THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OP CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 Ada Nisbet 
 
 ENGLISH READING ROOM
 
 JUL 1 7 1986
 
 THE CAXTONS.
 
 THE CAXTONS 
 
 A FAMILY PICTURE 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD BULWER \LYTTON 
 (LORD LYTTON) 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. 
 31 EAST I7TH ST. (UNION SQUARE)
 
 TUB MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
 RAHWAY, H. J.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 , 
 
 Ir it be the good fortune of this work to possess any interest for the 
 novel reader, that interest, perhaps, will be but little derived from the cus- 
 tomary elements of fiction. Thejtlot is extremely slight ; the incideuta-are 
 few, and, with the exception of those which involve the fate of Vivian, such 
 us may be found in the records of ordinary life. 
 
 Regarded as a novel, this attempt is an experiment somewhat apart from 
 the previous works of the author ; jt_is- -the-iust of- his writings ia which 
 humor has been employed less for the purpose of satire than in illustra- 
 tion of amiable characters ; it is the first, too, in which man has been viewed 
 less in his active relations with the world, than in his repose at his own 
 hearth in a word, the greater part of the canvas has been devoted to the 
 completion of a simple Family Picture. And thus, in. any appeal to the 
 "Sympathies of the human heart, the common household affections occupy" 
 the place of those livelier or larger passions which usually (and not unjustly) 
 arrogate the foreground in romantic composition. 
 
 In the hero whose autobiography connects the different characters and 
 events of the work, it has been the author's intention to imply the influences 
 of home upon the conduct and career of youth ; and in the ambition which 
 estranges Pisistiatus for a time from the sedentary occupations in which the 
 man of civilized life must usually serve his apprenticeship to fortune or to fame, 
 it is not designed to describe the fever of genius conscious of superior pow- 
 ers and aspiring to high destinies, but the natural tendencies of a fresh and 
 buoyant mind, rather vigorous than contemplative, and in which the desire 
 of action is but the symptom of health. 
 
 Pisistratus, in this respect (as he himself feels and implies), becomes the 
 specimen or type of a class the numbers of which are daily increasing in the 
 inevitable progress of modern civilization. He is one too many in the midst 
 of the crowd : he is the representative of the exuberant energies of youth, 
 turning, as with the instinct of nature, for space and development, from the 
 Old World to the New. That which may be called the interior meaning of 
 the wht>le is sought to be completed by the inference that, whatever our 
 wanderings, our happiness will always be found within a narrow compass, 
 and amidst the objects more immediately within our reach but that we are 
 seldom sensible of this truth (hackneyed though it be in the schools of all 
 philosophies) till our researches have spread over a wider area. To insure 
 the blessing of repose, we require a brisker excitement than a few turns up 
 and down our room. Content is like that humor in the crystal, on which 
 Claudian has lavished the wonder of a child and the fancies of a poet 
 
 " Vivis gemma tumescit ao"' -" 
 
 E. B. L. 
 October, 1849.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " SIR sir, it is a boy !" 
 
 " A boy," said my father, looking up from his book, and 
 evidently much puzzled ; "what is a boy ?" 
 
 Now my father did not mean by that interrogatory to chal- 
 lenge philosophical inquiry, nor to demand of the honest but 
 unenlightened woman who had just rushed into his study, a 
 solution of that mystery, physiological and psychological, 
 which has puzzled so many curious sages, and lies still involved 
 in the question, " What is man ? " For, as we need not look 
 further than Dr. Johnson's Dictionary to know that a boy is 
 "a male child," /. e., the male young of man ; so he who would 
 go to the depth of things, and know scientifically what is a 
 boy, must be able to ascertain " what is a man ? " But, for 
 aught I know, my father may have been satisfied with Buff on 
 on that score, or he may have sided with Monboddo. He may 
 have agreed with Bishop Berkeley ; he may have contented 
 himself with Professor Combe ; he may have regarded the 
 genus spiritually, like Zeno, or materially like Epicurus. 
 Grant that boy is the male young of man, and he would have 
 had plenty of definitions to chose from. He might have said, 
 
 Man is a stomach ; ergo, boy a male young stomach. Man 
 is a brain boy a male young brain. Man is a bundle of 
 habits boy a male young bundle of habits. Man is a 
 machine boy a male young machine. Man is a tailless 
 monkey boy a male young tailless monkey. Man is a com- 
 bination of gases boy a male young combination of gases. 
 Man is an appearance boy a male young appearance," etc. 
 etc., and etcetera, ad infinitum ! And if none of these defini- 
 tions had entirely satisfied my father, I am perfectly persuaded
 
 6 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 that he would never have come to Mrs. Primmins for a new 
 one. 
 
 But it so happened that my father was at that moment 
 engaged in the important consideration whether the Iliad was 
 written by one Homer, or was rather a collection of sundry 
 ballads, done into Greek by divers hands, and finally selected, 
 complied, and reduced into a whole by a Committee of Taste, 
 under that elegant old tyrant Pisistratus ; and the sudden 
 affirmation " It is a boy," did not seem to him pertinent to the 
 thread of the discussion. Therefore he asked : " What is a 
 boy ? vaguely, and, as it were, taken by surprise. 
 
 " Lord, sir !" said Mrs. Primmins, " what is a boy? Why, 
 the baby ! " 
 
 " The baby ! " repeated my father, rising. " What, you 
 don't mean to say that Mrs. Caxton is eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," said Mrs. Primmins, dropping a curtsey ; " and 
 as fine a little rogue as ever I set eyes upon." 
 
 " Poor, dear woman ! " said my father with great compassion. 
 " So soon, too so rapidly ! " he resumed in a tone of musing 
 surprise. " Why, it is but the other day we were married ! " 
 
 " Bless my heart, sir," said Mrs. Primmins, much scandalized, 
 " it is ten months and more." , 
 
 " Ten months ! " said my father with a sigh. " Ten months ! 
 and I have not finished fifty pages of my refutation of Wolfe's 
 monstrous theory ! In ten months a child ! and I'll be bound 
 complete hands, feet, eyes, ears, and nose ! and not like 
 this poor Infant of Mind (and my father pathetically placed 
 his hand on the treatise), of which nothing is formed and 
 shaped not even the first joint of the little finger ! Why, my 
 wife is a precious woman ! Well, keep her quiet. Heaven 
 preserve her, and send me strength to support this blessing ! " 
 
 " But your honor will look at the baby? come, sir ! " and 
 Mrs. Primmins laid hold of my father's sleeve coaxingly. 
 
 " Look at it to be sure," said my father kindly ; " look at 
 it, certainly ; it is but fair to poor Mrs. Caxton ; after taking 
 so much trouble, dear soul ! " 
 
 Therewith my father, drawing his dressing-robe round him 
 in more stately .folds, followed Mrs. Primmins upstairs into a 
 room very carefully darkened. 
 
 " How are you, my dear ? " said my father with compas- 
 sionate tenderness, as he groped his way to the bed. 
 
 A faint voice muttered : " Better now, and so happy ! " 
 And, at the same moment, Mrs. Primmins pulled my father 
 away, lifted a coverlid from a small cradle, and, holding a
 
 THE CAXTONS. 7 
 
 candle within an inch of an undeveloped nose, cried emphat- 
 ically : " There bless it ! " 
 
 " Of course, ma'am, I bless it," said my father rather peev- 
 ishly. " It is my duty to bless it ; BLESS IT ! And this, then, 
 is the way we come into the world ! red, very red blushing 
 for all the follies we are destined to commit." 
 
 My father sat down on the nurse's chair, the women grouped 
 round him. He continued to gaze on the contents of the 
 cradle, and at length said musingly : " And Homer was once 
 like this! " 
 
 At this moment and no wonder, considering the propinquity 
 of the candle to his visual organs Homer's infant likeness 
 commenced the first untutored melodies of nature. 
 
 " Homer improved greatly in singing as he grew older," 
 observed Mr. Squills, the accoucheur, who was engaged in some 
 mysteries in a corner of the room. 
 
 My father stopped his ears : " Little things can make a 
 great noise," said he philosophically ; " and the smaller the 
 thing the greater noise it can make." 
 
 So saying, he crept on tiptoe to the bed, and, clasping the 
 pale hand held out to him, whispered some words that no 
 doubt charmed and soothed the ear that heard them, for that 
 pale hand was suddenly drawn from his own and thrown ten- 
 derly round his neck. The sound of a gentle kiss was heard 
 through the stillness. 
 
 " Mr. Caxton, sir," cried Mr. Squills, in rebuke, " you agitate 
 my patient you must retire." 
 
 My father raised his mild face, looked round apologetically, 
 brushed his eyes with the back of his hand, stole to the door, 
 and vanished. 
 
 " I think," said a kind gossip seated at the other side of my 
 mother's bed, " I think, my dear, that Mr. Caxton might have 
 shown more joy more natural feeling, I may say at the 
 sight of the baby : and SUCH a baby ! But all men are just 
 the same, my dear brutes all brutes, depend upon it." 
 
 " Poor Austin ! " sighed my mother feebly " how little you 
 understand him ! " 
 
 " And now I shall clear the room," said Mr. Squills. " Go 
 to sleep, Mrs. Caxton." 
 
 " Mr. Squills," exclaimed my mother, and the bed-curtains 
 trembled, "pray see that Mr. Caxton does not set himself on 
 fire ; and, Mr. Squills, tell him not to be vexed and miss me 
 I shall be down very soon sha'n't I ? " 
 
 "If you keep yourself easy, you will, ma'am."
 
 8 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 "Pray, say so ; and, Primmins, " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Every one, I fear, is neglecting your master. Be sure 
 (and my mother's lips approached close to Mrs. Primmins' 
 ear) be sure that you air his nightcap yourself." 
 
 " Tender creatures those women," soliloquized Mr. Squills, 
 as, after clearing the room of all present, save Mrs. Primmins 
 and the nurse, he took his way towards my father's study. 
 Encountering the footman in the passage " John," said he, 
 " take supper into your master's room, and make us some 
 punch, will you ? stiffish ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " MR. CAXTON, how on earth did you ever come to marry? " 
 asked Mr. Squills abruptly, with his feet on the hob, while 
 stirring up his punch. 
 
 That was a home question, which many men might reason- 
 ably resent ; but my father scarcely knew what resentment 
 was. 
 
 " Squills," said he, turning round from his books, and laying 
 one finger on the surgeon's arm confidentially ; " Squills," 
 said he, " I myself should be glad to know how I came to be 
 married." 
 
 Mr. Squills was a jovial, good-hearted man stout, fat, and 
 with fine teeth, that made his laugh pleasant to look at as well 
 as to hear. Mr" Squills, moreover, was a bit of a philosopher 
 in his way studied human nature in curing its diseases and 
 was accustomed to say, that Mr. Caxton was a better book in 
 himself than all he had in his library. Mr. Squills laughed 
 and rubbed his hands. 
 
 My father resumed thoughtfully, and in the tone of one who 
 moralizes : 
 
 " There are three great events in life, sir birth, marriage, 
 and death. None know how they are born, few know how 
 they die. But I suspect that many can account for the inter- 
 mediate phenomenon I cannot." 
 
 " It was not for money, it must have been for love." observed 
 Mr. Squills ; " and your young wife is as pretty as she is 
 good." 
 
 " Ha ! " said my father, " I remember." 
 
 " Do you, sir ?" exclaimed Squills, highly amused. " How 
 was it ? " 
 
 My father, as was often the case with him, protracted his
 
 THE CAXTONS. 9 
 
 reply, and then seemed rather to commune with himself than 
 to answer Mr. Squills. 
 
 " The kindest, the best of men," he murmured " Abyssus 
 Eruditionis : and to think that he bestowed on me the only 
 fortune he had to leave, instead of to his own flesh and blood, 
 Jack and Kitty. All at least that I could grasp deficients 
 manu, of his Latin, his Greek, his Orientals. What do I not 
 owe to him ! " 
 
 " To whom ?" asked Squills. " Good Lord, what's the man 
 talking about ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said my father, rousing himself, "such was Giles 
 Tibbets, M.A., Sol Scientiarum, tutor to the humble scholar 
 you address, and father to poor Kitty. He left me his Elze- 
 virs ; he left me also his orphan daughter." 
 
 " Oh ! as a wife " 
 
 " No, as a ward. So she came to live in my house. I am 
 sure there was no harm in it. But my neighbors said there 
 was, and the Widow Weltraum told me the girl's character 
 would suffer. What could I do ? Oh yes, I recollect all now ! 
 I married her, that my old friend's child might have a roof to 
 her head, and come to no harm. You see I was forced to do 
 her that injury ; for, after all, poor young creature, it was a 
 sad lot for her. A dull book-worm like mecochlece vitam 
 agens, Mr. Squills leading the life of a snail. But my shell 
 was all I could offer to my poor friend's orphan." 
 
 " Mr. Caxton, I honor you," said Squills emphatically, 
 jumping up, and spilling half a tumblerful of scalding punch 
 over my father's legs. " You have a heart, sir ! and I under- 
 stand why your wife loves you. You seem a cold man ; but 
 you have tears in your eyes at this moment." 
 
 " I dare say I have," said my father, rubbing his shins ; "it 
 was boiling ! " 
 
 " And your son will be a comfort to you both," said Mr. 
 Squills, reseating himself, and, in his friendly emotion, wholly 
 abstracted from all consciousness of the suffering he had 
 inflicted. " He will be a dove of peace to your ark." 
 
 " I don't doubt it," said my father ruefully ; " only those 
 doves, when they are small, are a very noisy sort of birds non 
 talium avium cantus somnum reducent. However, it might 
 have been worse. Leda had twins." 
 
 " So had Mrs. Barnabas last week," rejoined the accoucheur. 
 " Who knows what may be in store for you yet? Here's a 
 health to Master Caxton, and lots of brothers and sisters to 
 him ! "
 
 10 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 "Brothers and sisters ! I am sure Mrs. Caxton will never 
 think of such a thing, sir," said my father almost indignantly. 
 " She's much too good a wife to behave so. Once, in a way, 
 it is all very well ; but twice and as it is, not a paper in its 
 place, nor a pen mended the last three days : I, too, who can 
 only write ' cuspide duriuscuid ' and the baker coming twice 
 to me for his bill too ! The Ilithyia; are troublesome deities, 
 Mr. Squills." 
 
 " Who are the Ilithyiae ? " asked the accoucheur. 
 
 " You ought to know," answered my father, smiling. " The 
 female daemons who presided over the Neogilos or New-born. 
 They take the name from Juno. See Homer, Book XI. By 
 the by, will my Neogilos be brought up like Hector or Astya- 
 nax videlicet, nourished by its mother or by a nurse ? " 
 
 "Which do you prefer, Mr. Caxton ?" asked Mr. Squills, 
 breaking the sugar in his tumbler. " In this I always deem it 
 my duty to consult the wishes of the gentleman." 
 
 " A nurse by all means, then," said my father. " And let 
 her carry him upo kolpo, next to her bosom. I know all that 
 has been said about mothers nursing their own infants, Mr. 
 Squills ; but poor Kitty is so sensitive, that I think a stout, 
 healthy peasant woman will be the best for the boy's future 
 nerves, and his mother's nerves, present and future too. 
 Heigh-ho ! I shall miss the dear woman very much ; when 
 will she be up, Mr. Squills ! " 
 
 " Oh, in less than a fortnight ! " 
 
 " And then the Neogilos shall go to school ! upo kolpo the 
 nurse with him, and all will be right again," said my father, 
 with a look of sly, mysterious humor, which was peculiar to him. 
 
 " School ! when he's just born ? " 
 
 " Can't begin too soon," said my father positively ; " that's 
 Helvetius' opinion, and it is mine too ! " 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THAT I was a very wonderful child, I take for granted ; 
 but, nevertheless, it was not of my own knowledge that I came 
 into possession of the circumstances set down in my former 
 chapters. But my father's conduct on the occasion of my 
 birth made a notable impression upon all who witnessed it ; 
 and Mr. Squills and Mrs. Primmins have related the facts to 
 me sufficiently often, to make me as well acquainted with them 
 as those worthy witnesses themselves. I fancy I see my father
 
 THE CAXTONS. tl 
 
 before me, in his dark-gray dressing-gown, and with his odd, 
 half sly, half innocent twitch of the mouth, and peculiar puz- 
 zling look, from two quiet, abstracted, indolently handsome 
 eyes, at the moment he agreed with Helvetius on the propriety 
 of sending me to school as soon as I was born. Nobody 
 knew exactly what to make of my father his wife excepted. 
 The people of Abdera sent for Hippocrates to cure the sup- 
 posed insanity of Democritus, "who at that time," saith Hip- 
 pocrates drily, " was seriously engaged in Philosophy." That 
 same people of Abdera would certainly have found very 
 alarming symptoms of madness in my poor father ; for, like 
 Democritus, "he esteemed as nothing the things, great or 
 small, in which the rest of the world were employed." Accord' 
 ingly, some set him down as a sage, some as a fool. The 
 neighboring clergy respected him as a scholar, " breathing 
 libraries"; the ladies despised him as an absent pedant, who 
 had no more gallantry than a stock or a stone. The poor 
 loved him for his charities, but laughed at him as a weak sort 
 of man, easily taken in. Yet the squires and fanners found 
 that, in their own matters of rural business, he had always a 
 fund of curious information to impart ; and whoever, young 
 or old, gentle or simple, learned or ignorant, asked his advice, 
 it was given with not more humility than wisdom. In the 
 common affairs of life, he seemed incapable of acting for him- 
 self ; he left all to my mother ; or, if taken unawares, was 
 pretty sure to be the dupe. But in those very affairs, if another 
 consulted him, his eye brightened, his brow cleared, the desire 
 of serving made him a new being : cautious, profound, prac- 
 tical. Too lazy or too languid where only his own interests 
 were at stake ; touch his benevolence and all the wheels of the 
 clockwork felt the impetus of the master-spring. No wonder 
 that, to others, the nut of such a character was hard to crack ! 
 But, in the eyes of my poor mother, Augustine (familiarly 
 Austin) Caxton was the best and the greatest of human beings ; 
 and she ought to have known him well, for she studied him 
 with her whole heart, knew every trick of his face, and, nine 
 times out of ten, divined what he was going to say before he 
 opened nir lips. Yet certainly there were deeps in his nature 
 which the plummet of her tender woman's wit had never 
 sounded ; and, certainly, it sometimes happened that, even in 
 his most domestic colloquialisms, my mother was in doubt 
 whether he was the simple, straightforward person he was 
 mostly taken for. There was, indeed, a kind of suppressed, 
 subtle irony about him, too unsubstantial to be popularly
 
 12 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 called humor, but dimly implying some sort of jest, which he 
 kept all to himself ; and this was only noticeable when he said 
 something that sounded very grave, or appeared to the grave 
 very silly and irrational. 
 
 That I did not go to school at least to what Mr. Squills 
 understood by the word school quite so soon as intended, I 
 need scarcely observe. In fact, my mother managed so well 
 my nursery, by means of double doors, was so placed out of 
 hearing that my father, for the most part, was privileged, if 
 he pleased, to forget my existence. He was once vaguely 
 recalled to it on the occasion of my christening. Now, my father 
 was a shy man, and he particularly hated all ceremonies and 
 public spectacles. He became uneasily aware that a great 
 ceremony, in which he might be called upon to play a promi- 
 nent part, was at hand. Abstracted as he was, and conve- 
 niently deaf at times, he had heard such significant whispers 
 about "taking advantage of the bishop's being in the neigh- 
 borhood," and " twelve new jelly-glasses being absolutely 
 wanted," as to assure him that some deadly festivity was in 
 the wind. And when the question of godmother and godfather 
 was fairly put to him, coupled with the remark that this was a 
 fine opportunity to return the civilities of the neighborhood, 
 he felt that a strong effort at escape was the only thing left. 
 Accordingly, having, seemingly without listening, heard the 
 day fixed, and seen, as they thought, without observing, the 
 chintz chairs in the best drawing-room uncovered (my dear 
 mother was the tidiest woman in the world), my father sud- 
 denly discovered that there was to be a great book sale twenty 
 miles off, which would last four days, and attend it he must. 
 My mother sighed ; but she never contradicted my father, 
 even when he was wrong, as he certainly was in this case. 
 She only dropped a timid intimation that she feared u It would 
 look odd, and the world might misconstrue my father's ab- 
 sence had not she better put off the christening?" 
 
 " My dear," answered my father, " it will be my duty, by and 
 by, to christen the boy a duty not done in a day. At present, 
 1 have no doubt that the bishop will do very well without me. 
 Let the day stand, or, if you put it off, upon my word and 
 honor I believe that the wicked auctioneer will put off the book 
 sale also. Of one thing I am quite sure, that the sale and the 
 christening will take place at the same time." 
 
 There was no getting over this ; but I am certain my dear 
 mother had much less heart than before in uncovering the 
 chintz chairs in the best drawing-room. Five years later this
 
 CAXfONS. 13 
 
 would not have happened. My mother would have kissed my 
 father, and said " Stay," and he would have stayed. But she 
 was then very young and timid ; and he, wild man, not of the 
 woods, but the cloisters, nor yet civilized into the tractabilities 
 of home. In short, the post-chaise was ordered and the car- 
 pet-bag packed. 
 
 " My love," said my mother, the night before this Hegira, 
 looking up from her work ; " My love, there is one thing you 
 have quite forgot to settle 1 beg pardon for disturbing you, 
 but it is important ! baby's name ; shant we call him Augus- 
 tine? " 
 
 " Augustine," said my father dreamily ; " why, that name's 
 mine." 
 
 " And you would like your boy's to be the same ? " 
 
 " No," said my father, rousing himself. " Nobody would 
 know which was which. I should catch myself learning the 
 Latin accidence or playing at marbles. I should never know 
 my own identity, and Mrs. Primmins would be giving me pap." 
 
 My mother smiled ; and putting her hand, which was a very 
 pretty one, on my father's shoulder, and looking at him 
 tenderly, she said : " There's no fear of mistaking you for any 
 other, even your son, dearest. Still, if you prefer another 
 name, what shall it be ? " 
 
 " Samuel," said my father. " Dr. Parr's name is Samuel." 
 
 " La, my love ! Samuel is the ugliest name " 
 
 My father did not hear the exclamation, he was again deep 
 in his books ; presently he started up : "Barnes says Homer 
 is Solomon. Read Omeros backwards, in the Hebrew 
 manner " 
 
 " Yes, my love," interrupted my mother. " But baby's 
 Christian name ? " 
 
 " Omeros Soremo Solemo Solomo ! " 
 
 " Solomo ! shocking," said my mother. 
 
 "Shocking, indeed," echoed my father; "an outrage to 
 common-sense." Then, after glancing again over his books, 
 he broke out musingly : " But, after all, it is nonsense to 
 suppose that Homer was not settled till his time." 
 
 " Whose ? " asked my mother mechanically. 
 
 My father lifted up his finger. 
 
 My mother continued, after a short pause : " Arthur is a 
 pretty name. Then there's William Henry Charles Rob- 
 ert. What shall it be, love ? " 
 
 " Pisistratus ?" said my father (who had hung fire till then), 
 in a tone of contempt " Pisistratus, indeed ! "
 
 14 THE 
 
 " Pisistratus ! a very fine name," said my mother joyfully 
 " Pisistratus Caxton. Thank you, my love. Pisistratus it 
 shall be." 
 
 " Do you contradict me ? Do you side with Wolfe and 
 Heyne, and that pragmatical fellow, Vico ? Do you mean to 
 say that the Rhapsodists " 
 
 " No, indeed," interrupted my mother. " My dear, you 
 frighten me." 
 
 My father sighed, and threw himself back in his chair. My 
 mother took courage and resumed: 
 
 " Pisistratus is a long name too ! Still some could call him 
 Sisty." 
 
 " Siste, Viator," muttered my father ; " that's trite ! " 
 
 " No, Sisty by itself short. Thank you, my dear." 
 
 Four days afterwards, on his return from the book sale, to 
 my father's inexpressible bewilderment, he was informed that 
 " Pisistratus was growing the very image of him." 
 
 When at length the good man was made thoroughly aware 
 of the fact that his son and heir boasted a name so memorable 
 in history as that borne by the enslaver of Athens, and the 
 disputed arranger of Homer and it was asserted to be a name 
 that he himself had suggested he was as angry as so mild a 
 man could be. " But it is infamous ! " he exclaimed. " Pisis- 
 tratus christened ! Pisistratus ! who lived six hundred years 
 before Christ was born. Good Heavens, madam ! you have 
 made me the father of an Anachronism." 
 
 My mother burst into tears. But the evil was irremediable. 
 An anachronism I was, and an anachronism J must continue 
 to the end of the chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " OF course, sir, you will begin soon to educate your so& 
 yourself ? " said Mr. Squills. 
 
 " Of course, sir," said my father, " you have read Martinus 
 Scriblerus ?" 
 
 " I don't understand you, Mr. Caxton." 
 " Then you have 0/read Martinus Scriblerus, Mr. Squills ! " 
 " Consider that I have read it, and what then ?" 
 " Why then, Squills," said my father familiarly, " you would 
 know, that though a scholar is often a fool, he is never a fool 
 so supreme, so superlative, as when he is defacing the first 
 .unsullied page of the human history, by entering into it the
 
 THE CAXTONS. 1$ 
 
 commonplaces of his own pedantry. A scholar, sir at least 
 one like me is of all persons the most unfit to teach young 
 children. A mother, sir a simple, natural, loving mother is 
 the infant's true guide to knowledge." 
 
 " Egad, Mr. Caxton, in spite of Helvetius, whom you quoted 
 the night the boy was born egad, I believe you are right." 
 
 " I am sure of it," said my father ; " at least as sure as a 
 poor mortal can be of anything. I agree with Helvetius, the 
 child should be educated from its birth ; but how ? there is 
 the rub : send him to school forthwith ! Certainly, he is at 
 school already with the two great teachers, Nature and Love. 
 Observe, that childhood and genius have the same master-organ 
 in common inquisitiveness. Let childhood have its way, and 
 as it began where genius begins, it may find what genius finds. 
 A certain Greek writer tells us of some man, who, in order to 
 save his bees a troublesome flight to Hymettus, cut their wings, 
 and placed before them the finest flowers he could select. 
 The poor bees made no honey. Now, sir, if I were to teach 
 my boy I should be cutting his wings, and giving him the 
 flowers he should find himself. Let us leave Nature alone for 
 the present, and Nature's loving proxy, the watchful mother." 
 
 Therewith my father pointed to his heir sprawling on the 
 grass, and plucking daisies on the lawn ; while the young 
 mother's voice rose merrily, laughing at the child's glee. 
 
 " I shall make but a poor bill out of your nursery, I see," 
 said Mr. Squills. 
 
 Agreeably to these doctrines, strange in so learned a father, 
 I thrived and flourished, and learned to spell, and make pot- 
 hooks, under the joint care of my mother and Dame Primmins. 
 This last was one of an old race fast dying away the race of 
 old faithful servants the race of old tale-telling nurses. She 
 had reared my mother before me ; but her affection put out 
 new flowers for the new generation. She was a Devonshire 
 woman, and Devonshire women, especially those who have 
 passed their youth near the seacoast, are generally superstitious. 
 She had a wonderful budget of fables. Before I was six years 
 old, I was erudite in that primitive literature, in which the 
 legends of all nations are traced to a common fountain " Puss 
 in Boots," " Tom Thumb," " Fortunio," " Fortunatus," " Jack 
 the Giant Killer," tales like proverbs, equally familiar, under 
 different versions, to the infant worshippers of Budh and the 
 hardier children of Thor. I may say, without vanity, that in 
 an examination in those venerable classics, I could have taken 
 honors !
 
 l6 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 My dear mother had some little misgivings as to the solid 
 benefit to be derived from such fantastic erudition, and timidly 
 consulted my father thereon. 
 
 " My love," answered my father, in that tone of voice which 
 always puzzled even my mother, to be sure whether he was in 
 jest or earnest, " in all these fables, certain philosophers could 
 easily discover symbolical significations of the highest morality. 
 I have myself written a treatise to prove that ' Puss in Boots' 
 is an allegory upon the progress of the human understanding, 
 having its origin in the mystical schools of the Egyptian 
 priests, and evidently an illustration of the worship rendered 
 at Thebes and Memphis to those feline quadrupeds, of which 
 they make both religious symbols and elaborate mummies." 
 
 " My dear Austin," said my mother, opening her blue eyes, 
 "you don't think that Sisty will discover all those fine things 
 in ' Puss in Boots ' ! " 
 
 " My dear Kitty," answered my father, " you don't think, 
 when you were good enough to take up with me, that you 
 found in me all the fine things I have learned from books. 
 You knew me only as a harmless creature, who was happy 
 enough to please your fancy. By and by you discovered that 
 I was no worse for all the quartos that have transmigrated 
 into ideas within me ideas that are mysteries even to myself. 
 If Sisty, as you call the child (plague on that unlucky anach- 
 ronism ! which you do well to abbreviate into a dissyllable), 
 if Sisty can't discover all the wisdom of Egypt in 'Puss in 
 Boots,' what then ? ' Puss in Boots' is harmless, and it pleases 
 his fancy. All that wakes curiosity is wisdom, if innocent ; all 
 that pleases the fancy now, turns hereafter to love or to knowl- 
 edge. And so, my dear, go back to the nursery." 
 
 But I should wrong thee, O best of fathers ! if I suffered 
 the reader to suppose, that because thou didst seem so indif- 
 ferent to my birth, and so careless as to my early teaching, 
 therefore thou wert, at heart, indifferent to thy troublesome 
 Neogilos. As I grew older, I became more sensibly aware 
 that a father's eye was upon me. I distinctly remember one 
 incident, that seems to me, in looking back, a crisis in my 
 infant life, as the first tangible link between my own heart and 
 that calm, great soul. 
 
 My father was seated on the lawn before the house, his 
 straw hat over his eyes (it was summer), and his book on his 
 lap. Suddenly a beautiful delf blue-and-white flower-pot, which 
 had been set on the window-sill of an upper story, fell to the 
 ground with a crash, and the fragments spluttered up round
 
 THE CAXTONS. tf 
 
 my father's legs. Sublime in his studies as Archimedes in 
 the siege, he continued to read : Impavidum ferient ruince ! 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " cried my mother, who was at work in the 
 porch, " my poor flower-pot that I prized so much ! Who 
 could have done this ? Primmins, Primmins ! " 
 
 Mrs. Primmins popped her head out of the fatal window, 
 nodded to the summons, and came down in a trice, pale and 
 breathless. 
 
 " Oh ! " said my mother mournfully, " I would rather have 
 lost all the plants in the greenhouse in the great blight last 
 May I would rather the best tea-set were broken ! The poor 
 geranium I reared myself, and the dear, dear flower-pot which 
 Mr. Caxton bought for me my last birthday ! That naughty 
 child must have done this ! " 
 
 Mrs. Primmins was dreadfully afraid of my father why, I 
 know not, except that very talkative, social persons are usually 
 afraid of very silent, shy ones. She cast a hasty glance at her 
 master, who was beginning to evince signs of attention, and 
 cried promptly : " No, ma'am, it was not the dear boy, bless 
 his flesh, it was I ! " 
 
 " You ? How could you be so careless ? And you knew 
 how I prized them both. O Primmins ! " 
 
 Primmins began to sob. 
 
 " Don't tell fibs, nursey," said a small, shrill voice ; and 
 Master Sisty (coming out of the house as bold as brass) con- 
 tinued rapidly : " Don't scold Primmins, mamma : it was I 
 who pushed out the flower-pot." 
 
 " Hush ! " said nurse, more frightened than ever, and 
 looking aghast towards my father, who had very deliberately 
 taken off his hat, and was regarding the scene with serious 
 eyes wide awake. 
 
 " Hush ! And if he did break it, ma'am, it was quite an acci- 
 dent; he was standing so, and he never meant it. Did you, Mas- 
 ter Sisty ? Speak ! (this in a whisper) or pa will be so angry." 
 
 " Well," said my mother, " I suppose it was an accident ; 
 take care in future, my child. You are sorry, I see, to have 
 grieved me. There's a kiss ; don't fret." 
 
 " No, mamma, you must not kiss me ; I don't deserve it. I 
 pushed out the flower-pot on purpose." 
 
 " Ha ! and why ? " said my father, walking up. 
 
 Mrs. Primmins trembled like a leaf. 
 
 " For fun ! " said I, hanging my head " just to see how 
 you'd look, papa ; and that's' the truth of it. Now beat me, 
 do beat me ! "
 
 l8 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 My father threw his book fifty yards off, stooped down, and 
 caught me to his breast. " Boy," he said, " you have done 
 wrong : you shall repair it by remembering all your life that 
 your father blessed God for giving him a son who spoke truth 
 in spite of fear ! Oh ! Mrs. Primmins, the next fable of this 
 kind you try to teach him, and we part forever ! " 
 
 From that time I first date the hour when I felt that I loved 
 my father, and knew that he loved me ; from that time, too, 
 he began to converse with me. He would no longer, if he met 
 me in the garden, pass by with a smile and nod ; he would 
 stop, put his book in his pocket, and though his talk was often 
 above my comprehension, still somehow I felt happier and 
 better, and less of an infant, when I thought over it, and 
 tried to puzzle out the meaning ; for he had a way of sug- 
 gesting, not teaching ; putting things into my head, and then 
 leaving them to work out their own problems. I remember a 
 special instance with respect to that same flower-pot and gera- 
 nium. Mr. Squills, who was a bachelor, and well to do in the 
 world, often made me little presents. Not long after the event 
 I have narrated, he gave me one far exceeding in value those 
 usually bestowed on children ; it was a beautiful, large 
 domino-box in cut ivory, painted and gilt. This domino- 
 box was my delight. I was never weary of playing at 
 dominoes with Mrs. Primmins, and I slept with the box under 
 my pillow. 
 
 " Ah ! " said my father one day when he found me ranging 
 the ivory parallelograms in the parlor, " Ah ! you like that 
 better than all your playthings, eh ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, papa." 
 
 " You would be very sorry if your mamma were to throw 
 that box out of the window, and break it for fun." I looked 
 beseechingly at my father, and made no answer. 
 
 " But perhaps you would be very glad," he resumed, " if 
 suddenly one of those good fairies you read of could change 
 the domino-box into a beautiful geranium in a beautiful blue- 
 and-white flower-pot, and you could have the pleasure of put- 
 ting it on your mamma's window-sill." 
 
 " Indeed I would ! " said I, half crying. 
 
 " My dear boy, I believe you ; but good wishes don't mend 
 bad actions good actions mend bad actions." 
 
 So saying, he shut the door and went out. I cannot tell 
 you how puzzled I was to make out what my father meant by 
 his aphorism. But I know that I played at dominoes no more 
 that day. The next morning my father found me seated by
 
 THE CAXtONS. IQ 
 
 myself under a tree in the garden ; he paused and looked at 
 me with his grave, bright eyes very steadily. 
 
 " My boy," said he, " I am going to walk to (a town 
 
 about two miles off), will you come? And, by the by, fetch 
 your domino-box : I should like to show it to a person there." 
 I ran in for the box, and, not a little proud of walking with my 
 father upon the high-road, we set out. 
 
 " Papa," said I by the way, "there are no fairies now." 
 
 " What then, my child ? " 
 
 " Why how then can my domino-box be changed into a 
 geranium and a blue-and-white flower-pot?" 
 
 " My dear," said my father, leaning his hand on my shoulder, 
 " everybody who is in earnest to be good, carries two fairies 
 about with him one here," and he touched my heart ; " and 
 one here," and he touched my forehead. 
 
 " I don't understand, papa." 
 
 " I can wait till you do, Pisistratus ! What a name ! " 
 
 My father stopped at a nursery gardener's, and, after look- 
 ing over the flowers, paused before a large double geranium. 
 ' Ah, this is finer than that which your mamma was so fond 
 of. What is the cost, sir ? " 
 
 " Only 75. 6d.," said the gardener. 
 
 My father buttoned up his pocket. " I can't afford it to- 
 day," said he gently, and we walked out. 
 
 On entering the town, we stopped again at a china-ware- 
 house. " Have you a flower-pot like that I bought some 
 months ago ? Ah, here is one, marked 35. 6d. Yes, that is 
 the price. Well, when your mamma's birthday comes again, 
 we must buy her another. That is some months to wait. And 
 we can wait, Master Sisty. For truth, that blooms all the year 
 round, is better than a poor geranium ; and a word that is 
 never broken, is better than a piece of delf." 
 
 My head, which had drooped before, rose again ; but the 
 rush of joy at my heart almost stifled me. 
 
 " I have called to pay your little bill," said my father, enter- 
 ing the shop of one of those fancy stationers common in coun- 
 try towns, and who sell all kinds of pretty toys and nicknacks. 
 " And by the way," he added, as the smiling shopman looked 
 over his books for the entry, " I think my little boy here can 
 show you a much handsomer specimen of French workman- 
 ship than that work-box which you enticed Mrs. Caxton into 
 raffling for, last winter. Show your domino-bcx, my dear." 
 
 I produced my treasure, and the shopman was liberal in his 
 commendations. " It is always well, my boy, to know what a
 
 20 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 thing is worth, incase one wishes to part with it. If my young 
 gentleman gets tired of his plaything, what will you give him 
 for it ? " 
 
 " Why, sir," said the shopman, " I fear we could not afford 
 to give more than eighteen shillings for it, unless the young 
 gentleman took some of these pretty things in exchange." 
 
 " Eighteen shillings ! " said my father ; " you would give 
 that sum. Well, my boy, whenever you do grow tired of your 
 box, you have my leave to sell it." 
 
 My father paid his bill and went out. I lingered behind a 
 few moments, and joined him at the end of the street. 
 
 " Papa, papa ! " I cried, clapping my hands, " we can buy 
 the geranium we can buy the flower-pot." And I pulled a 
 handful of silver from my pockets. 
 
 " Did I not say right ? " said my father, passing his handker- 
 chief over his eyes ; " You have found the two fairies ! " 
 
 Oh ! how proud, how overjoyed I was, when, after placing 
 vase and flower on the window-sill, I plucked my mother by 
 the gown, and made her follow me to the spot. 
 
 " It is his doing, and his money ! " said my father ; " good 
 actions have mended the bad." 
 
 " What ! " cried my mother, when she had learned all ; " and 
 your poor domino-box that you were so fond of. We will go 
 back to-morrow, and buy it back, if it costs us double." 
 
 " Shall we buy it back, Pisistratus ?" asked my father. 
 
 " Oh no no no ! It would spoil all," I cried, burying my 
 face on my father's breast. 
 
 " My wife," said my father solemnly, " this is my first lesson 
 to our child the sanctity and the happiness of self-sacrifice ; 
 undo not what it should teach to his dying day." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHEN I was between my seventh and my eighth year, a 
 change came over me, which may perhaps be familiar to the 
 notice of those parents who boast the anxious blessing of an 
 only child. The ordinary vivacity of childhood forsook me ; 
 I became quiet, sedate, and thoughtful. The absence of play- 
 fellows of my own age, the companionship of mature minds, 
 alternated only by complete solitude, gave something pre- 
 cocious, whether to my imagination or my reason. The wild 
 fables mutteied to me by the old nurse in the summer twilight, 
 or over the winter's hearth the effort made by my struggling
 
 THE CAXTONS. 21 
 
 intellect to comprehend the grave, sweet wisdom of my father's 
 suggested lessons tended to feed a passion for revery, in 
 which all my faculties strained and struggled, as in the dreams 
 that come when sleep is nearest waking. I had learned to 
 read with ease, and to write with some fluency, and I already 
 began to imitate, to reproduce. Strange tales, akin to those I 
 had gleaned from fairyland rude songs, modelled from such 
 verse-books as fell into my hands, began to mar the contents 
 of marble-covered pages, designed for the less ambitious pur- 
 poses of round text and multiplication. My mind was yet 
 more disturbed by the intensity of my home affections. My 
 love for both my parents had in it something morbid and 
 painful. I often wept to think how little I could do for those 
 I loved so well. My fondest fancies built up imaginary diffi- 
 culties for them, which my arm was to smooth. These 
 feelings, thus cherished, made my nerves over-susceptible and 
 acute. Nature began to affect me powerfully ; and from that 
 affection rose a restless curiosity to analyze the charms that so 
 mysteriously moved me to joy or awe, to smiles or tears. I 
 got my father to explain to me the elements of astronomy ; I 
 extracted from Squills, who was an ardent botanist, some of 
 the mysteries in the life of flowers. But music became my 
 darling passion. My mother (though the daughter of a great 
 scholar a scholar at whose name my father raised his hat if 
 it happened to be on his head) possessed, I must own it fairly, 
 less book-learning than many a humble tradesman's daughter 
 can boast in this more enlightened generation ; but she had 
 some natural gifts which had ripened, Heaven knows how ! 
 into womanly accomplishments. She drew with some elegance, 
 and painted flowers to exquisite perfection. She played on 
 more than one instrument with more than boarding-school skill ; 
 and though she sang in no language but her own, few could 
 hear her sweet voice without being deeply touched. Her music, 
 her songs, had a wondrous effect on me. Thus, altogether, a 
 kind of dreamy yet delightful melancholy seized upon my whole 
 being ; and this was the more remarkable, because contrary 
 to my early temperament, which was bold, active, and hilarious. 
 The change in my character began to act upon my form. 
 From a robust and vigorous infant, I grew into a pale and 
 slender boy. I began to ail and mope. Mr. Squills was 
 called in. 
 
 " Tonics ! " said Mr. Squills ; " and don't let him sit over 
 his book. Send him out in the air make him play. Come 
 here, my boy ; these organs are growing too large ; and Mr.
 
 22 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Squills, who was a phrenologist, placed his hand on my fore- 
 head. " Gad, sir, here's an ideality for you ; and, bless my 
 soul, what a constructiveness !" 
 
 My father pushed aside his papers, and walked to and fro 
 the room with his hands behind him ; but he did not say a 
 word till Mr. Squills was gone. 
 
 " My dear," then said he to my mother, on whose breast I 
 was leaning my aching ideality ; " My dear, Pisistratus must 
 go to school in good earnest." 
 
 Bless me, Austin ! at his age ? " 
 
 He is nearly eight years old." 
 
 But he is so forward." 
 
 It is for that reason he must go to school." 
 
 I don't quite understand you, my love. I know he is get- 
 ting past me ; but you who are so clever " 
 
 My father took my mother's hand : " We can teach him 
 nothing now, Kitty. We send him to school to be taught " 
 'By some schoolmaster who knows much less than you 
 do-" 
 
 " By little schoolboys, who will make him a boy again, "said 
 my father, almost sadly. " My dear, you remember that, when 
 our Kentish gardener planted those filbert-trees, and when 
 they were in their third year, and you began to calculate on 
 what they would bring in, you went out one morning, and 
 found he had cut them down to the ground. You were vexed, 
 and asked why. What did the gardener say ? ' To prevent 
 their bearing too soon.' There is no want of fruitfulness 
 here put back the hour of produce, that the plant may last." 
 " Let me go to school," said I, lifting my languid head, and 
 smiling on my father. I understood him at once, and it was as 
 if the voice of my life itself answered him. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A YEAR after the resolution thus come to, I was at home for 
 the holidays. 
 
 " I hope," said my mother, "that they are doing Sisty justice. 
 I do think he is not nearly so quick a child as he was before 
 he went to school. I wisn you would examine him, Austin." 
 
 " I have examined him, my dear. It is just as I expected ; 
 and I am quite satisfied." 
 
 " What ! you really think he has come on ? " said my mother 
 joyfully.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 23 
 
 " He does not care a button for botany now," said Mr. 
 Squills. 
 
 " And he used to be so fond of music, dear boy ! " observed 
 my mother, with a sigh. " Good gracious, what noise is that?" 
 
 " Your son's pop-gun against the window," said my father. 
 " It is lucky it is only the window ; it would have made a less 
 deafening noise, though, if it had been Mr. Squills' head, as it 
 was yesterday morning." 
 
 " The left ear," observed Squills ; " and a very sharp blow 
 it was, too. Yet you are satisfied, Mr. Caxton ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I think the boy is now as great a blockhead as most 
 boys of his age are," observed my father with great com- 
 placency. 
 
 " Dear me, Austin a great blockhead ! " 
 
 " What else did he go to school for ? " asked my father. 
 And observing a certain dismay in the face of his female 
 audience, and a certain surprise in that of his male, he rose 
 and stood on the hearth, with one hand in his waistcoat, as 
 was his wont when about to philosophize in more detail than 
 was usual to him. 
 
 " Mr. Squills," said he, " you have had great experience in 
 families." 
 
 "As good a practice as any in the county," said Mr. Squills 
 proudly ; "more than I can manage. I shall advertise for a 
 partner." 
 
 "And," resumed my father, "you must have observed 
 almost invariably that, in every family, there is what father, 
 mother, uncle, and aunt pronounce to be one wonderful child." 
 
 "One at least," said Mr. Squills, smiling. 
 
 "It is easy," continued my father, "to say this is parental 
 partiality, but it is not so. Examine that child as a stranger, 
 and it will startle yourself. You stand amazed at its eager 
 curiosity, its quick comprehension, its ready wit, its delicate 
 perception. Often, too, you will find some faculty strikingly 
 developed ; the child will have a turn for mechanics, perhaps, 
 and make you a model of a steamboat ; or it will have an ear 
 tuned to verse, and will write you a poem like that it has got 
 by heart from ' The Speaker'; or it will take to botany (like 
 Pisistratus), with the old maid its aunt ; or it will play a march 
 on its sister's pianoforte. In short, even you, Squills, will 
 . declare that it is really a wonderful child." 
 
 "Upon my word," said Mr. Squills thoughtfully, "there's a 
 great deal of truth in what you say. Little Tom Dobbs ts a 
 wonderful child ; so is Frank Stepington ; and as for Johnny
 
 24 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Styles, I must bring him here for you to near him prattle on 
 Natural History, and see how well he handles his pretty little 
 microscope." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " said my father. " And now let me pro- 
 ceed. These thauniata or wonders last till when, Mr. Squills ? 
 last till the boy goes to school, and then, somehow or other, 
 the thaumata vanish into thin air, like ghosts at the cockcrow. 
 A year after the prodigy has been at the academy, father and 
 mother, uncle and aunt, plague you no more with his doings 
 and sayings ; the extraordinary infant has become a very 
 ordinary little boy. Is it not so, Mr. Squills?" 
 
 " Indeed you are right, sir. How did you come to be so 
 observant ? You never seem to " 
 
 " Hush ! " interrupted my father ; and then, looking fondly 
 at my mother's anxious face, he said soothingly : " Be com- 
 forted : this is wisely ordained and it is for the best." 
 
 " It must be the fault of the school," said my mother, shak- 
 ing her head. 
 
 " It is the necessity of the school, and its virtue, my Kate. 
 Let any one of these wonderful children wonderful as you 
 thought Sisty himself stay at home, and you will see its head 
 grow bigger and bigger, and its body thinner and thinner eh, 
 Mr. Squills ? till the mind take all nourishment from the 
 frame, and the frame, in turn, stint or make sickly the mind. 
 You see that noble oak from the window. If the Chinese had 
 brought it up, it would have been a tree in miniature at five 
 years old, and at a hundred, you would have set it in a flower- 
 pot on your table, no bigger than it was at five a curiosity for 
 its maturity at one age, a show for its diminutiveness at the 
 other. No ! the ordeal for talent is school ; restore the stunted 
 mannikin to the growing child, and then let the child, if it can, 
 healthily, hardily, naturally, work its slow way up into great- 
 ness. If greatness be denied it, it will at least be a man, and 
 that is better than to be a little Johnny Styles all its life an 
 oak in a pill-box." 
 
 At that moment I rushed into the room, glowing and pant- 
 ing, health on my cheek, vigor in my limbs, all childhood at 
 my heart. " Oh, mamma, I have got up the kite so high ! 
 come and see. Do come, papa." 
 
 " Certainly," said my father ; "only don't cry so loud kites 
 make no noise in rising ; yet, you see how they soar above the 
 world. Come, Kate. Where is my hat ? Ah thank you, 
 my boy." 
 
 " Kitty," said my father, looking at the kite, which, attached
 
 THE CAXTONS. 25 
 
 by its string to the peg I had stuck into the ground, rested 
 calm in the sky, " never fear but what our kite shall fly as 
 high ; only, the human soul has stronger instincts to mount 
 upward than a few sheets of paper on a framework of lath. 
 But, observe, that to prevent its being lost in the freedom of 
 space, we must attach it lightly to earth ; and, observe again, 
 my dear, that the higher it soars, the more string we must 
 give it." 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHEN I had reached the age of twelve, I had got to the 
 head of the preparatory school to which I had been sent. And 
 having thus exhausted all the oxygen of learning in that little 
 receiver, my parents looked out for a wider range for my 
 inspirations. During the last two years in which I had been at 
 school, my love for study had returned ; but it was a vigorous, 
 wakeful, undreamy love, stimulated by competition, and ani- 
 mated by the practical desire to excel. 
 
 My father no longer sought to curb my intellectual aspir- 
 ings. He had too great a reverence for scholarship not to 
 wish me to become a scholar if possible ; though he more 
 then once said to me somewhat sadly : " Master books, but 
 do not let them master you. Read to live, not live to read. 
 One slave of the lamp is enough for a household : my servi- 
 tude must not be a hereditary bondage." 
 
 My father looked round for a suitable academy ; and the 
 fame of Dr. Herman's " Philhellenic Institute " came to his 
 ears. 
 
 Now, this Dr. Herman was the son of a German music- 
 master, who had settled in England. He had completed his 
 own education at the University of Bonn ; but finding learning 
 too common a drug in that market to bring the high price at 
 which he valued his own, and having some theories as to polit- 
 ical freedom which attached him to England, he resolved 
 upon setting up a school, which he designed as an " Era in the 
 History of the Human Mind." Dr. Herman was one of the 
 earliest of those new-fashioned authorities in education, who 
 have, more lately, spread pretty numerously amongst us, and
 
 26 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 would have given, perhaps, a dangerous shake to the found- 
 ations of our great classical seminaries, if those last had not 
 very wisely, though very cautiously, borrowed some of the 
 more sensible principles which lay mixed and adulterated 
 amongst the crotchets and chimeras of their innovating rivals 
 and assailants. 
 
 Dr. Herman had written a great many learned works against 
 every pre-existing method of instruction ; that which had made 
 the greatest noise was upon the infamous fiction of SPELLING 
 BOOKS : " A more lying, roundabout, puzzle-headed delusion 
 than that by which we CONFUSE the clear instincts of truth in 
 our accursed systems of spelling, was never concocted by the 
 father of falsehood." Such was the exordium of this famous 
 treatise. " For instance, take the monosyllable CAT. What 
 a brazen forehead you must have, when you say to an infant, 
 c, A, T, spell CAT ; that is, three sounds forming a totally 
 opposite compound opposite in every detail, opposite in the 
 whole compose a poor little monosyllable, which, if you 
 would but say the simple truth, the child will learn to spell 
 merely by looking at it ! How can three sounds, which run 
 thus to the ear, see eh tee, compose the sound cat? Don't 
 they rather compose the sound see-ch-te or cealy ? How can a 
 system of education flourish that begins by so monstrous a 
 falsehood, which the sense of hearing suffices to contradict ? 
 No wonder that the hornbook is the despair of mothers ! " 
 From this instance, the reader will perceive that Dr. Herman, 
 in his theory of education, began at the beginning ! he took 
 the bull fairly by the horns. As for the rest, upon a broad 
 principle of eclecticism, he had combined together every new 
 patent invention for youthful idea-shooting. He had taken 
 his trigger from Hofwyl ; he had bought his wadding from 
 Hamilton ; he had got his copper-caps from Bell and Lan- 
 caster. The youthful idea ! he had rammed it tight ! he had 
 rammed it loose ! he had rammed it with pictorial illustra- 
 trations ! he had rammed it with the monitorial system ! he 
 had rammed it in every conceivable way, and with every imag- 
 inable ramrod ; but I have mournful doubts whether he shot 
 the youthful idea an inch farther than it did under the old 
 mechanism of flint and steel ! Nevertheless, as Dr. Herman 
 really did teach a great many things too much neglected at 
 schools ; as, besides Latin and Greek, he taught a vast variety 
 in that vague infinite nowadays called " useful knowledge "; 
 as he engaged lecturers on chemistry, engineering, and natural 
 history ; as arithmetic and the elements of physical science
 
 THE CAXTONS. 2J 
 
 were enforced with zeal and care ; as all sorts of gymnastics 
 were entermingled with the sports of the play-ground so the 
 youthful idea, if it did not go farther, spread its shots in a 
 wider direction ; and a boy could not stay there five years 
 without learning something, which is more than can be said of all 
 schools ! He learned at least to use his eyes, and his ears, 
 and his limbs ; order, cleanliness, exercise, grew into habits ; 
 and the school pleased the ladies and satisfied the gentlemen ; 
 in a word, it thrived : and Dr. Herman, at the time I speak of, 
 numbered more than one hundred pupils. Now, when the 
 worthy man first commenced the task of tuition, he had pro- 
 claimed the humanest abhorrence to the barbarous system of 
 corporeal punishment. But, alas ! as his school increased in 
 numbers, he had proportionately recanted these honorable and 
 anti-birchen ideas. He had, reluctantly, perhaps, honestly, 
 no doubt, but with full determination come to the conclusion 
 that there are secret springs which can only be detected by 
 the twigs of the divining rod ; and having discovered with what 
 comparative ease the whole mechanism of his little government 
 could be carried on by the admission of the birch-regulator, so, 
 as he grew richer, and lazier, and fatter, the Philhellenic Institute 
 spun along as glibly as a top kept in vivacious movement by 
 the perpetual application of the lash. 
 
 I believe that the school did not suffer in reputation from 
 this sad apostasy on the part of the head-master ; on the con- 
 trary, it seemed more natural and English less outlandish 
 and heretical. And it was at the zenith of its renown, when, one 
 bright morning, with all my clothes nicely mended, and a large 
 plnmcake in my box, I was deposited at its hospitable gates. 
 
 Amongst Dr. Herman's various whimsicalities, there was one 
 to which he had adhered with more fidelity than to the anti- 
 corporeal punishment articles of his creed ; and, in fact, it was 
 upon this that he had caused those imposing words, " Philhel- 
 lenic Institute," to blaze in gilt capitals in front of his academy. 
 He belonged to that illustrious class of scholars who are now 
 waging war on our popular mythologies, and upsetting all the 
 associations which the Etonians and Harrovians connect with 
 the household names of ancient history. In a word, he sought 
 to restore to scholastic purity the mutilated orthography of 
 Greek appellatives. He was extremely indignant that little 
 boys should be brought up to confound Zeus with Jupiter, 
 Ares with Mars, Artemis with Diana the Greek deities with 
 the Roman ; and so rigidly did he inctilcate the doctrine that 
 these two sets of personages were to be kept constantly con-
 
 28 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Undistinguished from each other, that his cross-examinations 
 kept us in eternal confusion. 
 
 " Vat," he would exclaim, to some new boy fresh from some 
 grammar school on the Etonian system ; " Vat do you mean 
 by dranslating Zeus Jupiter ? Is dat amatory, irascible, cloud- 
 compelling god of Olympus, vid his eagle and his aegis, in the 
 smallest degree resembling de grave, formal, moral Jupiter 
 Optimus Maximus of the Roman Capitol ? a god, Master 
 Simpkins, who would have been perfectly shocked at the idea 
 of running after innocent Fraulein dressed up as a swan or a 
 bull ! I put dat question to you vonce for all, Master Simp- 
 kins." Master Simpkins took care to agree with the Doctor. 
 " And how could you," resumed Dr. Herman majestically, 
 turning to some other criminal alumnus " How could you 
 presume to dranslate de Ares of Homer, sir, by the audacious 
 vulgarism Mars ? Ares, Master Jones, who roared as loud as 
 ten thousand men when he was hurt ; or as you will roar if I 
 catch you calling him Mars again ! Arcs, who covered seven 
 plectra of ground ; confound Ares, the manslayer, with the 
 Mars or Mavors whom de Romans stole from de Sabines ! 
 Mars, de solemn and calm protector of Rome ! Master Jones, 
 Master Jones, you ought to be ashamed of yourself ! " And 
 then waxing enthusiastic, and warming more and more into 
 German gutturals and pronunciation, the good Doctor would 
 lift up his hands, with two great rings on his thumbs, and 
 exclaim: " Und du ! and dou, Aphrodite; dou, whose bert 
 de Seasons velcomed ! dou, who didst put Atonis into a coffer, 
 and den tid durn him into an anemone; dou, to be called 
 Venus by dat snivel-nosed little. Master Budderfield ! Venus, 
 who presided over Baumgartens and funerals, and nasty tink- 
 ing sewers ! Venus Cloacina O mein Gott ! Come here, 
 Master Budderfield ; I must flog you for dat ; I must indeed, 
 liddle boy ! " As our Philhellenic preceptor carried his 
 archaeological purism into all Greek proper names, it was not 
 likely that my unhappy baptismal would escape. The first 
 time I signed my exercise I wrote " Pisistratus Caxton " in my 
 best round-hand. " And dey call your baba a scholar ! " said 
 the doctor contemptuously. " Your name, sir, is Greek ; and, 
 as Greek, you vill be dood enough to write it, vith vat you call 
 an e and an o p, E, i, s, I, s, T, R, A, T, o, s. Vat can you 
 expect for to come to, Master Caxton, if you don't pay de care 
 dat is proper to your own dood name de e, and de o? Ach ! 
 let me see no more of your vile corruptions ! Mein Gott ! 
 Pi ! ven de name is Pei ! "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 29 
 
 The next time I wrote home to my father, modestly imply- 
 ing that I was short of cash, that a trap-bat would be accept- 
 able, and that the favorite goddess amongst the boys (whether 
 Greek or Roman was very immaterial) was Diva Moneta, I felt 
 a glow of classical pride in signing myself, " your affectionate 
 Peisistratos." The next post brought a sad damper to my 
 scholastic exultation. The letter ran thus : 
 
 " MY DEAR SON : 
 
 " I prefer my old acquaintances Thucydides and Pisistratus 
 to Thoukudides and Peisistratos. Horace is familiar to me, 
 but Horatius is only known to me as Codes. Pisistratus can 
 play at trap-ball ; but I find no authority in pure Greek to 
 allow me to suppose that that game was known to Peisistratos. 
 I should be happy to send you a drachma or so, but I have no 
 coins in my possession current at Athens at the time when 
 Pisistratus was spelt Peisistratos. Your affectionate father, 
 
 "A. CAXTON." 
 
 Verily, here indeed was the first practical embarrassment 
 produced by that melancholy anachronism which my father 
 had so prophetically deplored. However, nothing like expe- 
 rience to prove the value of compromise in this world ! Pei- 
 sistratos continued to write exercises, and a second letter from 
 Pisistratus was followed by the trap-bat. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I WAS somewhere about sixteen when, on going home for 
 the holidays, I found my mother's brother settled among the 
 household Lares. Uncle Jack, as he was familiarly called, 
 was a light-hearted, plausible, enthusiastic, talkative fellow, 
 who had spent three small fortunes in trying to make a large 
 one. 
 
 Uncle Jack was a great speculator ; but in all his specula- 
 tions he never affected to think of himself ; it was always the 
 good of his fellow-creatures that he had at heart, and in this 
 ungrateful world fellow-creatures are not to be relied upon ! 
 On coming of age, he inherited ^6000 from his maternal 
 grandfather. It seemed to him then that his fellow-creatures 
 were sadly imposed upon by their tailors. Those ninth parts 
 of humanity notoriously eked out their fractional existence by 
 asking nine times too much for the clothing which civilization, 
 and perhaps a change of climate, render more necessary to us
 
 30 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 than to our predecessors, the Picts. Out of pure philan- 
 thropy, Uncle Jack started a " Grand National Benevolent 
 Clothing Company," which undertook to supply the public 
 with inexpressibles of the best Saxon cloth at 75. 6d. a pair ; 
 coats, superfine, i i8s. ; and waistcoats at so much per 
 dozen. They were to be all worked off by steam. Thus the 
 rascally tailors were to be put down, humanity clad, and the 
 philanthropists rewarded (but that was a secondary considera- 
 tion) with a clear return of 30 per cent. In spite of the evi- 
 dent charitableness of this Christian design, and the irrefraga- 
 ble calculations upon which it was based, this company died a 
 victim to the ignorance and unthankfulness of our fellow- 
 creatures. And all that remained of Jack's ^6000 was a fifty- 
 fourth share in a small steam-engine, a large assortment of 
 ready-made pantaloons, and the liabilities of the directors. 
 
 Uncle Jack disappeared, and went on his travels. The 
 same spirit of philanthropy which characterized the speculations 
 of his purse attended the risks of his person. Uncle Jack 
 had a natural leaning towards all distressed communities : if 
 any tribe, race, or nation was down in the world, Uncle Jack 
 threw himself plump into the scale to redress the balance. 
 Poles, Greeks (the last were then fighting the Turks), Mexi- 
 cans, Spaniards Uncle Jack thrust his nose into all their 
 squabbles ! Heaven forbid I should mock thee, poor Uncle 
 Jack, for those generous predilections towards the unfortunate ; 
 only, whenever a nation is in a misfortune, there is always a 
 job going on ! The Polish cause, the Greek cause, the 
 Mexican cause, and the Spanish cause, are necessarily mixed 
 up with loans and subscriptions. These Continental patriots, 
 when they take up the sword with one hand, generally contrive 
 to thrust the other hand deep into their neighbors' breeches' 
 pockets. Uncle Jack went to Greece, thence he went to Spain, 
 thence to Mexico. No doubt he was of great service to those 
 afflicted populations, for he came back with unanswerable 
 proof of their gratitude, in the shape of ^3000. Shortly after 
 this appeared a prospectus of the " New, Grand, National, 
 Benevolent Insurance Company, for the Industrious Classes." 
 This invaluable document, after setting forth the immense 
 benefits to society arising from habits of providence, and the 
 introduction of insurance companies proving the infamous 
 rate of premiums exacted by the existent offices, and their 
 inapplicability to the wants of the honest artisan, and declar- 
 ing that nothing but the purest intentions of benefiting their 
 fellow-creatures, and raising the moral tone of society, had
 
 THE CAXTONS. 31 
 
 led the directors to institute a new society, founded on the 
 noblest principles and the most moderate calculations pro- 
 ceeded to demonstrate that twenty-four and a half per cent, 
 was the smallest possible return the shareholders could antici- 
 pate. The company began under the fairest auspices : an 
 archbishop was caught as president, on the condition always 
 that he should give nothing but his name to the society. 
 Uncle Jack more euphoniously designated as " the celebrated 
 philanthropist, John Jones Tibbets, Esquire " was honorary 
 secretary, and the capital stated at two millions. But such 
 was the obtuseness of the industrious classes, so little did they 
 perceive the benefits of subscribing one-and-ninepence a week 
 from the age of twenty-one to fifty, in order to secure at the 
 latter age the annuity of ^18, that the company dissolved into 
 thin air, and with it dissolved also Uncle Jack's ^3000. 
 Nothing more was then seen or heard of him for three years. 
 So obscure was his existence, that on the death of an aunt 
 who left him a small farm in Cornwall, it was necessary to 
 advertise that " If John Jones Tibbets, Esq., would apply to 
 Messrs. Blunt and -Tin, Lothbury, between the hours of ten 
 and four, he would hear of something to his advantage." 
 But, even as a conjuror declares that he will call the ace of 
 spades, and the ace of spades, that you thought you had safely 
 under your foot, turns up on the table so with this advertise- 
 ment suddenly turned up Uncle Jack. With inconceivable 
 satisfaction did the new landowner settle himself in his 
 comfortable homestead. The farm, which was about two 
 hundred acres, was in the best possible condition, and saving 
 one or two chemical preparations, v/hich cost Uncle Jack, 
 upon the most scientific principles, thirty acres of buckwheat, 
 the ears of which came up, poor things, all spotted and speckled, 
 as if they had been inoculated with the small-pox, Uncle Jack 
 for the first two years was a thriving man. Unluckily, how- 
 ever, one day Uncle Jack discovered a coal-mine in a beautiful 
 field of Swedish turnips ; in another week the house was full 
 of engineers and naturalists, and in another month appeared, 
 in my uncle's best style, much improved by practice, a pros- 
 pectus of the " Grand, National, anti-Monopoly Coal Company, 
 instituted on behalf of the poor householders of London, and 
 against the Monster Monopoly of the London Coal Wharfs. 
 
 " A vein of the finest coal has been discovered on the 
 estates of the celebrated philanthropist, John Jones Tibbets, 
 Esq. This new mine, the Molly Wheal, having been satisfac- 
 torily tested by that eminent engineer, Giles Compass, Esq.,
 
 32 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 promises an inexhaustible field to the energies of the benevo- 
 lent and the wealth of the capitalist. It is calculated that the 
 best coals may be delivered, screened, at the mouth of the 
 Thames, for i8s. per load, yielding a profit of not less than 
 forty-eight per cent, to the shareholders. Shares, 50, to be 
 paid in five instalments. Capital to be subscribed, one million. 
 For shares, early application must be made to Messrs. Blunt 
 and Tin, solicitors, Lothbury." 
 
 Here, then, was something tangible for fellow-creatures to 
 go on there was land, there was a mine, there was coal, and 
 there actually came shareholders and capital. Uncle Jack was 
 so persuaded that his fortune was now to be made, and had, 
 moreover, so great a desire to share the glory of ruining the 
 monster monopoly of the London wharfs, that he refused a 
 very large offer to dispose of the property altogether, re- 
 mained chief shareholder, and removed to London, where he 
 set up his carriage, and gave dinners to his fellow-directors. 
 For no less than three years did this company flourish, having 
 submitted the entire direction and working of the mines to 
 that eminent engineer, Giles Compass ; twenty per cent, was 
 paid regularly by that gentleman to the shareholders, and the 
 shares were at more than cent, per cent., when one bright 
 morning Giles Compass, Esq., unexpectedly removed himself 
 to that wider field for genius like his, the United States ; and 
 it was discovered that the mine had for more than a year run 
 itself into a great pit of water, and that Mr. Compass had been 
 paying the shareholders out of their own capital. My uncle 
 had the satisfaction this time of being ruined in very good 
 company ; three doctors of divinity, two county members, a 
 Scotch lord, and an East India director, were all in the same 
 boat that boat which went down with the coal-mine into the 
 great water-pit ! 
 
 It was just after this event that Uncle Jack, sanguine and 
 light-hearted as ever, suddenly recollected his sister, Mrs. 
 Caxton, and not knowing where else to dine, thought he would 
 repose his limbs under my father's trabes citrea, which the 
 ingenious W. S. Landor opines should be translated "mahog- 
 any." You never saw a more charming man than Uncle Jack. 
 All plump people are more popular than thin people. There 
 is something jovial and pleasant in the sight of a round face ! 
 What conspiracy could succeed when its head was a lean and 
 hungry-looking fellow, like Cassius? If the Roman patriots 
 had had Uncle Jack amongst them, perhaps they would never 
 have furnished a tragedy to Shakspeare. Uncle Jack was as
 
 THE CAXTONS. 33 
 
 plump as a partridge not unwieldy, not corpulent, not obese, 
 not " vastus" which Cicero objects to in an orator but every 
 crevice comfortably filled up. Like the ocean, "time wrote no 
 wrinkles on his glassy (or brassy) brow." His natural lines 
 were all upward curves, his smile most ingratiating, his eye so 
 frank, even his trick of rubbing his clean, well-fed, English- 
 looking hands, had something about it coaxing and debonnair, 
 -something that actually decoyed you into trusting your money 
 into hands so prepossessing. Indeed, to him might be fully ap- 
 plied the expression, " Sedem animse in extremis digitis habet " ; 
 " He had his soul's seat in his finger-ends." The critics ob- 
 serve that few men have ever united in equal perfection the 
 imaginative with the scientific faculties. " Happy he," ex- 
 claims Schiller, " who combines the enthusiast's warmth with 
 the worldly man's light " light and warmth, Uncle Jack had 
 them both. He was a perfect symphony of bewitching en- 
 thusiasm and convincing calculation. Dicaeopolis in the 
 " Acharnenses," in presenting a gentleman called Nicharchus 
 to the audience, observes : " He is small, I confess, but there 
 is nothing lost in him ; all is knave that is not fool." Parody- 
 ing the equivocal compliment, I may say that though Uncle 
 Jack was no giant, there was nothing lost in him. Whatever 
 was not philanthropy was arithmetic, and whatever was not 
 arithmetic was philanthropy. He would have been equally 
 dear to Howard and to Cocker. Uncle Jack was comely, too, 
 clear-skinned and florid, had a little mouth, with good teeth, 
 wore no whiskers, shaved his beard as close as if it were one 
 of his grand national companies ; his hair, once somewhat 
 sandy, was now rather grayish, which increased the respec- 
 tability of of his appearance ; and he wore it flat at the sides 
 and raised in a peak at the top : his organs of constructive- 
 ness and ideality were pronounced by Mr. Squills to be pro- 
 digious, and those freely developed bumps gave great breadth 
 to his forehead. Well-shaped, too, was Uncle Jack, about five 
 feet eight, the proper height for an active man of business. 
 He wore a black coat ; but to make the nap look the fresher, 
 he had given it the relief of gilt buttons, on which were wrought 
 a small crown and anchor ; at a distance this button looked 
 like the king's button, and gave him the air of one who has a 
 place about Court. He always wore a white neckcloth with- 
 out starch, a frill, and a diamond pin, which last furnished him 
 with observations upon certain mines of Mexico, which he had 
 a great, but hitherto unsatisfied, desire of seeing worked by a 
 grand National United Britons Company. His waistcoat of a
 
 34 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 morning was pale buff ; of an evening, embroidered velvet ; 
 wherewith were connected sundry schemes of an " association 
 for the improvement of native manufactures." His trousers, 
 matutinally, were of the color vulgarly called " blotting-paper," 
 and he never wore boots, which, he said, unfitted a man for 
 exercise, but short drab gaiters and square-toed shoes. His 
 watch-chain was garnished with a vast number of seals : each 
 seal, indeed, represented the device of some defunct company, 
 and they might be said to resemble the scalps of the slain, 
 worn by the aboriginal Iroquois concerning whom, indeed, 
 he had once entertained philanthropic designs, compounded of 
 conversion to Christianity on the principles of the English 
 Episcopal Church, and of an advantageous exchange of beaver- 
 skins for Bibles, brandy, and gunpowder. 
 
 That Uncle Jack should win my heart was no wonder ; my 
 mother's he had always won from her earliest recollection of 
 his having persuaded her to let her great doll (a present from 
 her godmother) be put up to a raffle for the benefit of the 
 chimney-sweepers. " So like him so good ! " she would often 
 say pensively ; " they paid sixpence apiece for the raffle 
 twenty tickets, and the doll cost ^2. Nobody was taken in, 
 and the doll, poor thing (it had such blue eyes !) went for a 
 quarter of its value. But Jack said nobody could guess what 
 good the ten shillings did to the chimney-sweepers." Naturally 
 enough, I say, my mother liked Uncle Jack ! but my father 
 liked him quite as well, and that was a strong proof of my 
 uncle's powers of captivation. However it is noticeable that 
 when some retired scholar is once interested in an active man 
 of the world, he is more inclined to admire him than others 
 are. Sympathy with such a companion gratifies at once his 
 curiosity and his indolence ; he can travel with him, scheme 
 with him, fight with him, go with him through all the adven- 
 tures of which his own books speak so eloquently, and all the 
 time never stir from his easy-chair. My father said " that it 
 was like listening to Ulysses to hear Uncle Jack ! " Uncle 
 Jack, too, had been in Greece and Asia Minor, gone over the 
 site of the siege of Troy, ate figs at Marathon, shot hares in 
 the Peloponnesus, and drank three pints of brown stout at the 
 top of the Great Pyramid. 
 
 Therefore, Uncle Jack was like a book of reference to my 
 father. Verily at times he looked on him as a book, and 
 took him down after dinner as he would a volume of Dodwell 
 or Pausanias. In fact, I believe that scholars who never move 
 from their cells are not the less an eminently curious, bustling,
 
 THE CAXTONS. 35 
 
 active race, rightly understood. Even as old Burton saith of 
 himself : " Though I live a collegiate student, and lead a 
 monastic life, sequestered from those tumults and troubles of 
 the world, I hear and see what is done abroad, how others 
 run, ride, turmoil, and macerate themselves in town and 
 country " : which citation sufficeth to show that scholars are 
 naturally the most active men of the world, only that while 
 their heads plot with Augustus, fight with Julius, sail with 
 Columbus, and change the face of the globe with Alexander, 
 Attila, or Mahomet, there is a certain mysterious attraction, 
 which our improved knowledge of mesmerism will doubtless 
 soon explain to the satisfaction of science, between that ex- 
 tremer and antipodal part of the human frame, called in the 
 vulgate "the seat of honor," and the stuffed leather of an 
 armed chair. Learning somehow or other sinks down to that 
 part into which it was first driven, and produces therein a 
 leaden heaviness and weight, which counteract those lively 
 emotions of the brain, that might otherwise render students 
 too mercurial and agile for the safety of established order. I 
 leave this conjecture to the consideration of experimentalists 
 in the physics. 
 
 I was still more delighted than my father with Uncle Jack. 
 He was full of amusing tricks, could conjure wonderfully, make 
 a bunch of keys dance a hornpipe, and if ever you gave him 
 half-a-crown, he was sure to turn it into a halfpenny. He was 
 only unsuccessful in turning my halfpennies into half-crowns. 
 
 We took long walks together, and in the midst of his most 
 diverting conversation my uncle was always an observer. He 
 would stop to examine the nature of the soil, fill my pockets 
 (not his own) with great lumps of clay, stones, and rubbish, to 
 analyze when he got home, by the help of some chemical 
 apparatus he had borrowed from Mr. Squills. He would stand 
 an hour at a cottage door, admiring the little girls who were 
 straw-platting, and then walk into the nearest farm-houses, to 
 suggest the feasibility of "a national straw-plat association." 
 All this fertility of intellect was, alas ! wasted in that " ingrata 
 terra" into which Uncle Jack had fallen. No squire could 
 be persuaded into the belief that his mother-stone was preg- 
 nant with minerals ; no farmer talked into weaving straw-plat 
 into a proprietary association. So, even as an ogre, having 
 devastated the surrounding country, begins to cast a hungry 
 eye on his own little ones, Uncle Jack's mouth, long defrauded 
 of juicier and more legitimate morsels, began to water for a 
 bite of my innocent father.
 
 36 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AT this time we were living in what may be called a very 
 respectable style for people who made no pretence to ostenta- 
 tion. On the skirts of a large village stood a square red brick 
 house, about the date of Queen Anne. Upon the top of the 
 house was a balustrade ; why, heaven knows for nobody, 
 except our great tom-cat Ralph, ever walked upon the leads 
 but so it was, and so it often is in houses from the time of 
 Elizabeth, yea, even to that of Victoria. This balustrade was 
 divided by low piers, on each of which was placed a round 
 ball. The centre of the house was distinguishable by an 
 architrave, in the shape of a triangle, under which was a niche, 
 probably meant for a figure, but the figure was not forthcom- 
 ing. Below this was the window (encased with carved pil- 
 asters) of my dear mother's little sitting-room ; and lower 
 still, raised on a flight of six steps, was a very handsome- 
 looking door, with a projecting porch. All the windows, with 
 smallish panes and largish frames, were relieved with stone 
 copings ; so that the house had an air of solidity, and well-to- 
 do-ness about it nothing tricky on the one hand, nothing 
 decayed on the other. The house stood a little back from the 
 garden gates, which were large, and set between two piers 
 surmounted with vases. Many might object, that in wet 
 weather you had to walk some way to your carriage ; but we 
 obviated that objection by not keeping a carriage. To the 
 right of the house the enclosure contained a little lawn, a 
 laurel hermitage, a square pond, a modest green-house, and 
 half-a-dozen plots of mignonette, heliotrope, roses, pinks, 
 sweetwilliam, etc. To the left spread the kitchen-garden, 
 lying screened by espaliers yielding the finest apples in the 
 neighborhood, and divided by three winding gravel walks, of 
 which the extremest was backed by a wall, whereon, as it lay 
 full south, peaches, pears, and nectarines sunned themselves 
 early into well-remembered flavor. This walk was appro- 
 priated to my father. Book in hand, he would, on fine days, 
 pace to and fro, often stopping, dear man, to jot down a 
 pencil-note, gesticulate, or soliloquize. And there, when not 
 in his study, my mother would be sure to find him. In these 
 deambulations, as he called them, he had generally a com- 
 panion so extraordinary, that I expect to be met with a hillalu 
 of incredulous contempt when I specify it. Nevertheless I 
 vow and protest that it is strictly true, and no invention of an
 
 THE CAXTONS. 37 
 
 exaggerating romancer. It happened one day that my mother 
 had coaxed Mr. Caxton to walk with her to market. By the 
 way they passed a sward of green, on which sundry little boys 
 were engaged upon the lapidation of a lame duck. It seemed 
 that the duck was to have been taken to market, when it was 
 discovered not only to be lame, but dyspeptic ; perhaps some 
 weed had disagreed with its ganglionic apparatus, poor thing. 
 However that be, the goodwife had declared that the duck 
 was good for nothing ; and upon the petition of her children, 
 it had been consigned to them for a little innocent amusement, 
 and to keep them out of harm's way. My mother declared 
 that she never before saw her lord and master roused to such 
 animation. He dispersed the urchins, released the duck, 
 carried it home, kept it in a basket by the fire, fed it and 
 physicked it till it recovered ; and then it was consigned to 
 the square pond. But lo ! the duck knew its benefactor ; and 
 whenever my father appeared outside his door, it would catch 
 sight of him, flap from the pond, gain the lawn, and hobble 
 after him (for it never quite recovered the use of its left leg), 
 till it reached the walk by the peaches ; and there sometimes 
 it would sit, gravely watching its master's deambulations ; 
 sometimes stroll by his side, and, at all events, never leave 
 him till, at his return home, he fed it with his own hands ; 
 and, quacking her peaceful adieus, the nymph then retired to 
 her natural element. 
 
 With the exception of my mother's favorite morning-room, the 
 principal sitting-rooms that is, the study, the dining-room, and 
 what was emphatically called ''the best drawing-room," which 
 was only occupied on great occasions looked south. Tall 
 beeches, firs, poplars, and a few oaks, backed the house, and 
 indeed surrounded it on all sides but the south ; so that it was 
 well sheltered from the winter cold and the summer heat. 
 Our principal domestic, in dignity and station, was Mrs. Prim- 
 mins, who was waiting gentlewoman, housekeeper, and tyran- 
 nical dictatrix of the whole establishment. Two other maids, 
 a gardener, and a footman, composed the rest of the serving 
 household. Save a few pasture-fields, which he let, my father 
 was not troubled with land. His income was derived from the 
 interest of about ^15,000, partly in the three per cents., partly 
 on mortgage ; and what with my mother and Mrs. Primmins, 
 this income always yielded enough to satisfy my father's single 
 hobby for books, pay for my education, and entertain our 
 neighbors, rarely, indeed, at dinner, but very often at tea. 
 My dear mother boasted that our society was very select. It
 
 38 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 consisted chiefly of the clergyman and his family, two old 
 maids who gave themselves great airs, a gentleman who had 
 been in the East India service, and who lived in a large white 
 house at the top of the hill ; some half-a-dozen squires and 
 their wives and children ; Mr. Squills, still a bachelor : and 
 once a year cards were exchanged and dinners too with 
 certain aristocrats, who inspired my mother with a great deal 
 of unnecessary awe ; since she declared they were the most 
 good-natured, easy people in the world, and always stuck their 
 cards in the most conspicuous part of the looking-glass frame 
 over the chimney-piece of the best drawing-room. Thus you 
 perceive that our natural position was one highly creditable to 
 us, proving the soundness of our finances and the gentility of 
 our pedigree of which last more hereafter. At present I 
 content myself with saying on that head, that even the proudest 
 of the neighboring squirearchs always spoke of us as a very 
 ancient family. But all my father ever said, to evince pride 
 of ancestry, was in honor of William Caxton, citizen and printer 
 in the reign of Edward IV. " Clarum et venerabile nomen ! " 
 an ancestor a man of letters might be justly vain of. 
 
 " Heus," said my father, stopping short, and lifting his eyes 
 from the Colloquies of Erasmus," salve multum, jucundis- 
 sime." 
 
 Uncle Jack was not much of a scholar, but he knew enough 
 Latin to answer, " Salve tantundem, mi frater." 
 
 My father smiled approvingly. " I see you comprehend 
 true urbanity, or politeness, as we phrase it. There is an ele- 
 gance in addressing the husband of your sister as brother. 
 Erasmus commends it in his opening chapter, under the head 
 of ' Salutandi formulae.' And, indeed," added my father 
 thoughtfully, " there is no great difference between politeness 
 and affection. My author here observes that it is polite to 
 express salutation in certain minor distresses of nature. One 
 should salute a gentleman in yawning, salute him in hiccuping, 
 salute him in sneezing, salute him in coughing ; and that evi- 
 dently because of your interest in his health ; for he may dis- 
 locate his jaw in yawning, and the hiccup is often a symptom 
 of grave disorder, and sneezing is perilous to the small blood- 
 vessels of the head, and coughing is either a tracheal, bron- 
 chial, pulmonary, or ganglionic affection." 
 
 "Very true. The Turks always salute in sneezing, and they 
 are a remarkably polite people," said Uncle Jack. " But, my 
 dear brother, I was just looking with admiration at these apple- 
 trees of yours. I never saw finer. I am a great judge of
 
 THE CAXTONS. 39 
 
 apples. I find, in talking with my sister, that you make very 
 little profit by them. That's a pity. One might establish a 
 cider orchard in this county. You can take your own fields 
 in hand ; you can hire more, so as to make the whole, say a 
 hundred acres. You can plant a very extensive apple-orchard 
 on a grand scale. I have just run through the calculations ; 
 they are quite startling. Take 40 trees per acre that's the 
 proper average at is. 6d. per tree; 4000 trees for 100 acres, 
 ^300; labor of digging, trenching, say 10 an acre total 
 lor 100 acres, ^1000. Pave the bottoms of the holes to pre- 
 vent the tap-root striking down into the bad soil oh, I am 
 very close and careful, you see, in all minutiae ! always was 
 pave 'em with rubbish and stones, 6d. a hole ; that for 4000 
 trees the 100 acres is ^100. Add the rent of the land, at 3os. 
 an acre, ^150. And how stands the total?" Here Uncle 
 Jack proceeded rapidly ticking off the items with his fingers : 
 "Trees, ,300; labor, ^jooo ; paving holes, ^100 ; rent, 
 ^150; Total, ^1550. That's your expense. Mark. Now to 
 the profit. Orchards in Kent realize ^100 an acre, some even 
 ^150 ; but let's be moderate, say only ^50 an acre, and your 
 gross profit per year, from a capital of ^1550, will be ^5000 
 ^5000 a year. Think of that, Brother Caxton. Deduct 10 per 
 cent., or ^500 a year, for gardeners' wages, manure, etc., and 
 the net product is ^4500. Your fortune's made, man it is 
 made I wish you joy ! " And Uncle Jack rubbed his hands. 
 
 " Bless me, father," said eagerly the young Pisistratus, who 
 had swallowed with ravished ears every syllable and figure of 
 this inviting calculation, " Why, we should be as rich as Squire 
 Rollick ; and then, you know, sir, you could keep a pack of 
 fox-hounds ! " 
 
 " And buy a large library," added Uncle Jack, with more 
 subtle knowledge of human nature as to its appropriate temp- 
 tations. " There's my friend the archbishop's collection to 
 be sold." 
 
 Slowly recovering his breath, my father gently turned his 
 eyes from one to the other ; and then, laying his left hand on 
 my head, while with the right he held up Erasmus rebukingly 
 to Uncle Jack, said : 
 
 " See how easily you can sow covetousness and avidity in 
 the youthful mind ! Ah, brother ! " 
 
 "You are too severe, sir. See how the dear boy hangs his 
 head ! Fie ! natural enthusiasm of his years ' gay hope by 
 fancy fed,' as the poet says. Why, for that fine boy's sake, 
 you ought not to lose so certain an occasion of wealth, I may
 
 40 THE CAXTOiNS. 
 
 say, untold. For, observe, you will form a nursery of crabs ; 
 each year you go on grafting and enlarging your plantation, 
 renting, nay, why not buying, more land? Gad, sir! in 
 twenty years you might cover half the county ; but say you 
 stop short at 2000 acres, why, the net profit is ^90,000 a year. 
 A duke's income a duke's and going a-begging as I may 
 say." 
 
 "But stop," said I modestly; "the trees don't grow in a 
 year. I know when our last apple-tree was planted it is five 
 years ago it was then three years old, and it only bore one 
 half-bushel last autumn." 
 
 " What an intelligent lad it is ! Good head there. Oh, 
 he'll do credit to his great fortune, brother," said Uncle Jack; 
 approvingly. " True, my boy. But in the mean while we 
 could fill the ground, as they do in Kent, with gooseberries 
 and currants, or onions and cabbages. Nevertheless, con- 
 sidering we are not great capitalists, I am afraid we must give 
 up a share of our profits to diminish our outlay. So, harkye, 
 Pisistratus (look at him, brother simple as he stands there, I 
 think he is born with a silver spoon in his mouth) harkye, 
 now to the mysteries of speculation. Your father shall quietly 
 buy the land, and then, presto! we will issue a prospectus, 
 and start a Company. Associations can wait five years for 
 a return. Every year, meanwhile, increases the value of the 
 shares. Your father takes, we say, fifty shares at ^50 each, 
 paying only an instalment of 2 a share. He sells thirty-five 
 shares at cent, per cent. He keeps the remaining fifteen, and 
 his fortune's made all the same ; only it is not quite so large 
 as if he had kept the whole concern in his own hands. What 
 say you now, Brother Caxton ? ' Visne edere pomum ? ' as we 
 used to say at school." 
 
 " I don't want a shilling more than I have got," said my 
 father resolutely. " My wife would not love me better ; my 
 food would not nourish me more ; my boy would not, in all 
 probability, be half so hardy, or a tenth part so industrious ; 
 and " 
 
 " But," interrupted Uncle Jack pertinaciously, and reserving 
 his grand argument for the last, "the good you would confer 
 on the community the progress given to the natural produc- 
 tions of your country, the wholesome beverage of cider, 
 brought within cheap reach of the laboring classes. If it was 
 only for your sake, should I have urged this question ? Should 
 I now ? Is it in my character ? But for the sake of the public ! 
 Mankind ! Of our fellow-creatures ! Why, sir, England
 
 THE CAXTONS. 41 
 
 could not get on if gentlemen like you had not a little philan. 
 thropy and speculation." 
 
 "Papse!" exclaimed my father, "to think that England 
 can't get on without turning Austin Caxion into an apple- 
 merchant ! My dear Jack, listen. You remind me of a col- 
 loquy in this book ; wait a bit here it is " Pamphagus and 
 Codes." Codes recognizes his friend, who had been absent 
 for many years, by his eminent and remarkable nose. Pam- 
 phagus says, rather irritably, that he is not ashamed of his 
 nose. ' Ashamed of it ! no, indeed,' says Codes : ' I never 
 saw a nose that could be put to so many uses ! ' ' Ha,' says 
 Pamphagus (whose curiosity is aroused), ' uses ! What uses ? ' 
 Vv'hereon (lepidissime f rater /) Codes, with eloquence as rapid 
 as yours, runs on with a countless list of the uses to which so 
 vast a development of the organ can be applied. ' If the cellar 
 was deep, it could sniff up the wine like an elephant's trunk ; 
 if the bellows were missing, it could blow the fire ; if the lamp 
 was too glaring, it could suffice for a shade ; it would serve as 
 a speaking-trumpet to a herald ; it could sound a signal of 
 battle in the field ; it would do for a wedge in wood-cutting, 
 a spade for digging, a scythe for mowing, an anchor in sailing ; 
 till Pamphagus cries out, ' Lucky dog that I am ! and I never 
 knew before what a useful piece of furniture I carried about 
 with me.' " My father paused and strove to whistle, but that 
 effort of harmony failed him, and he added, smiling : " So 
 much for my apple-trees, Brother John. Leave them to their 
 natural destination of filling tarts and dumplings." 
 
 Uncle Jack looked a little discomposed for a moment ; but 
 he then laughed with his usual heartiness, and saw that he had 
 not yet got to my father's blind side. I confess that my 
 revered parent rose in my estimation after that conference ; 
 and I began to see that a man may not be quite without com- 
 mon-sense, though he is a scholar. Indeed, whether it was 
 that Uncle Jack's visit acted as a gentle stimulant to his 
 relaxed faculties, or that I, now grown older and wiser, began 
 to see his character more clearly, I date from those summer 
 holidays the commencement of that familiar and endearing 
 intimacy which ever after existed between my father and 
 myself. Often I deserted the more extensive rambles of Uncle 
 Jack, or the greater allurements of a cricket-match in the vil- 
 lage, or a day's fishing in Squire Rollick's preserves, for a 
 quiet stroll with my father by the old peach-wall sometimes 
 silent, indeed, and already musing over the future, while he 
 was busy with the past, but amply rewarded when, suspending
 
 42 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 his lecture, he would pour forth hoards of varied learning, 
 rendered amusing by his quaint comments, and that Socratic 
 satire which only fell short of wit because it never passed into 
 malice. At some moments, indeed, the vein ran into elo- 
 quence ; and with some fine heroic sentiment in his old books, 
 his stooping form rose erect, his eye flashed ; and you saw 
 that he had not been originally formed and wholly meant for 
 the obscure seclusion in which his harmless days now wore 
 contentedly away. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " EGAD, sir, the county is going to the dogs ! Our senti- 
 ments are not represented in Parliament or out of it. The 
 County Mercury has ratted, and be hanged to it ! and now we 
 have not one newspaper in the whole shire to express the sen- 
 timents of the respectable part of the community ! " 
 
 This speech was made on the occasion of one of the rare 
 dinners given by Mr. and Mrs. Caxton to the grandees of 
 the neighborhood, and uttered by no less a person than 
 Squire Rollick, of Rollick Hall, chairman of the quarter- 
 sessions. 
 
 I confess that I (for I was permitted on that first occasion 
 not only to dine with the guests, but to out-stay the ladies, in 
 virtue of my growing years, and my promise to abstain from 
 the decanters) I confess, I say, that I, poor innocent, was 
 puzzled to conjecture what sudden interest in the county news- 
 paper could cause Uncle Jack to prick up his ears like a war- 
 horse at the sound of the drum, and rush so incontinently 
 across the interval between Squire Rollick and himself. But 
 the mind of that deep and truly knowing man was not to be 
 plumbed by a chit of my age. You could not fish for the shy 
 salmon in that pool with a crooked pin and a bobbin, as you 
 would for minnows ; or, to indulge in a more worthy illustra- 
 tion, you could not say of him, as St. Gregory saith of the 
 streams of Jordan, " A lamb could wade easily through that 
 ford." 
 
 " Not a county newspaper to advocate the rights of " here 
 my uncle stopped, as if at a loss, and whispered in my ear : 
 " What are his politics ? " " Don't know," answered I. Uncle 
 Jack intuitively took down from his memory the phrase most 
 readily at hand, and added, with a nasal intonation, "the 
 rights of our distressed fellow-creatures ! " 
 
 My father scratched his eyebrow with his forefinger, as he
 
 THE CAXTONS. 43 
 
 was apt to do when doubtful ; the rest of the company a 
 silent set looked up. 
 
 " Fellow-creatures ! " said Mr. Rollick " fellow-fiddle- 
 sticks ! " 
 
 Uncle Jack was clearly in the wrong box. He drew out of 
 it cautiously : " I mean," said he, " our respectable fellow-creat- 
 ures "; and then suddenly it occurred to him that a County 
 Mercury would naturally represent the agricultural interest, 
 and that if Mr. Rollick said that the " County Mercury ought to 
 be hanged," he was one of those politicians who had already 
 begun to call the agricultural interest " a Vampire." Flushed 
 with that fancied discovery, Uncle Jack rushed on, intending 
 to bear along with the stream, thus fortunately directed, all 
 the " rubbish " * subsequently shot into Covent Garden and 
 Hall of Commerce. 
 
 " Yes, respectable fellow-creatures, men of capital and en- 
 terprise ! For what are these country squires compared to 
 our wealthy merchants ? What is this agricultural interest 
 that professes to be the prop of the land ? " 
 
 " Professes ! " cried Squire Rollick " it is the prop of the 
 land ; and as for those manufacturing fellows who have bought 
 up the Mercury " 
 
 " Bought up the Mercury, have they, the villains ! " cried 
 Uncle Jack, interrupting the Squire, and now bursting into 
 full scent " Depend upon it, sir, it is a part of a diabolical 
 system of buying up, which must be exposed manfully. Yes, 
 as I was saying, what is that agricultural interest which they de- 
 sire to ruin? which they declare to be so bloated ? which they call 
 'a vampire'! they the true blood-suckers, the venomous mill- 
 ocrats ! Fellow-creatures, sir ! I may well call distressed fel- 
 low-creatures the members of that much-suffering class of which 
 you yourself are an ornament. What can be more deserving of 
 our best efforts for relief, than a country gentleman like your- 
 self, we'll say of a nominal ^5000 a year compelled to keep 
 up an establishment, pay for his fox-hounds, support the whole 
 population by contributions to the poor-rates, support the 
 whole church by tithes; all justice, jails, and prosecutions by 
 the county rates ; all thoroughfares by the highway rates ; 
 ground down by mortgages, Jews, or jointures ; having to 
 provide for younger children ; enormous expenses for cutting 
 his woods, manuring his model farm, and fattening huge oxen 
 till every pound of flesh costs him five pounds sterling in oil- 
 cake ; and then the lawsuits necessary to protect his rights ; 
 
 * " We talked sad rubbish when we first began," says Mr. Cobden in one of his speeches.
 
 44 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 plundered on all hands by poachers, sheep- stealers, dog-steat- 
 ers, churchwardens, overseers, gardeners, gamekeepers, and 
 that necessary rascal, his steward. If ever there was a dis- 
 tressed fellow-creature in the world, it is a country gentleman 
 with a great estate." 
 
 My father evidently thought this an exquisite piece of ban- 
 ter, for by the corner of his mouth I saw that he chuckled inly. 
 
 Squire Rollick, who had interrupted the speech by sundry 
 approving exclamations, particularly at the mention of poor- 
 Tales, tithes, county rates, mortgages, and poachers, here 
 pushed the bottle to Uncle Jack, and said civilly : " There's a 
 great deal of truth in what you say, Mr. Tibbets. The agri- 
 cultural interest is going to ruin ; and when it does, I would 
 not give that for Old England ! " and Mr. Rollick snapped his 
 finger and thumb. " But what is to be done done for the 
 county ? There's the rub." 
 
 " I was just coming to that," quoth Uncle Jack. " You say 
 that you have not a county paper that upholds your cause, and 
 denounces your enemies." 
 
 " Not since the Whigs bought the shire Mercury." 
 
 " Why, good Heavens ! Mr. Rollick, how can you suppose 
 that you will have justice done you, if at this time of day you 
 neglect the press ? The press, sir there it is : air we breathe ! 
 What you want is a great national no, not a national A 
 PROVINCIAL proprietary weekly journal, supported liberally 
 and steadily by that mighty party whose very existence is at 
 stake. Without such a paper, you are gone, you are dead, 
 extinct, defunct, buried ahve ; with such a paper, well con- 
 ducted, well edited by a man of the world, of education, of 
 practical experience in agriculture and human nature, mines, 
 corn, manure, insurances, acts of Parliament, cattle-shows, the 
 state of parties, and the best interests of society with such a 
 man and such a paper, you will carry all before you. But it 
 must be done by subscription, by association, by co-operation, 
 by a Grand Provincial Benevolent Agricultural Anti-innovat- 
 ing Society." 
 
 " Egad, sir, you are right !" said Mr. Rollick, slapping his 
 thigh ; "and I'll ride over to our Lord-Lieutenant to-morrow. 
 His eldest son ought to carry the county." 
 
 " And he will, if you encourage the press and set up a 
 journal," said Uncle Jack, rubbing his hands, and then gently 
 stretching them out, and drawing them gradually together, as 
 if he were already enclosing in that airy circle the unsuspect- 
 ing guineas of the unborn association.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 45 
 
 All happiness dwells more in the hope than the possess-jn ; 
 and at that moment, I dare be sworn that Uncle Jack felt a 
 livelier rapture, circum prtzcordta, warming his entrails, and 
 diffusing throughout his whole frame of five feet eight the 
 prophetic glow of the Magna Diva Moneta, than if he had 
 enjoyed for ten years the actual possession of King Croesus's 
 privy purse. 
 
 " I thought Uncle Jack was not a Tory," said I to my father 
 the next day. 
 
 My father, who cared nothing for politics, opened his eyes. 
 
 " Are you a Tory or a Whig, papa ? " 
 
 " Um," said my father " there's a great deal to be said on 
 both sides of the question. You see, my boy, that Mrs. Prim- 
 mins has a great many moulds for our butter-pats ; sometimes 
 they come up with a crown on them, sometimes with the more 
 popular impress of a cow. It is all very well for those who dish 
 up the butter to print it according to their taste, or in proof of 
 their abilities ; it is enough for us to butter our bread, say 
 grace, and pay for the dairy. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Not a bit, sir." 
 
 " Your namesake Pisistratus was wiser than you, then," said 
 my father. " And now let us feed the duck. Where's your 
 uncle ? " 
 
 " He has borrowed Mr. Squills's mare, sir, and gone with 
 Squire Rollick to the great lord they were talking of." 
 
 " Oho ! " said my father, " Brother Jack is going to print his 
 butter ! " 
 
 And indeed Uncle Jack played his cards so well on this 
 occasion, and set before the Lord-Lieutenant, with whom he 
 had a personal interview, so fine a prospectus, and so nice a 
 calculation, that before my holidays were over, he was installed 
 in a very handsome office in the county town, with private 
 apartments over it, and a salary of ^500 a year for advocat- 
 ing the cause of his distressed fellow-creatures, including 
 noblemen, squires, yeomanry, farmers, and all yearly sub- 
 scribers in the NEW PROPRIETARY AGRICULTURAL ANTI-INNO- 
 
 VATING SHIRE WEEKLY GAZETTE. At the head of his 
 
 newspaper Uncle Jack caused to be engraved a crown sup- 
 ported by a flail and a crook, with the motto : " Pro rege et 
 grege ": And that was the way in which Uncle Jack printed 
 his pats of butter.
 
 46 THE CAXTOXS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I SEEMED to myself to have made a leap in life when I 
 returned to school. I no longer felt as a boy. Uncle Jack, 
 out of his own purse, had presented me with my first pair of 
 Wellington boots ; my mother had been coaxed into allowing 
 me a small tail to jackets hitherto tailless ; my collars, which 
 had been wont, spaniel-like, to flap and fall about my neck, 
 now, terrier-wise, stood erect and rampant, encompassed with a 
 circumvallation of whalebone, buckram, and black silk. I was, 
 in truth, nearly seventeen, and I gave myself the airs of a man. 
 Now, be it observed, that that crisis in adolescent existence 
 wherein we first pass from Master Sisty into Mr. Pisistratus, 
 or Pisistratus Caxlon, Esq.; wherein we arrogate, and with 
 tacit concession from our elders, the long-envied title of " young 
 man " always seems a sudden and imprompt upshooting and 
 elevation. We do not mark the gradual preparations thereto ; 
 we remember only one distinct period in which all the signs 
 and symptoms burst and effloresced together ; Wellington 
 boots, coat-tail, cravat, down on the upper lip, thoughts on 
 razors, reveries on young ladies, and a new kind of sense of 
 poetry. 
 
 I began now to read steadily, to understand what I did read, 
 and to cast some anxious looks towards the future, with vague 
 notions that I had a place to win in the world, and that nothing 
 is to be won without perseverance and labor ; and so I went 
 on till I was seventeen, and at the head of the school, when I 
 received the two letters I subjoin. 
 
 I. FROM AUGUSTINE CAXTON, ESQ. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON : 
 
 " I have informed Dr. Herman that you will not return to him 
 after the approaching holidays. You are old enough now to 
 look forward to the embraces of our beloved Alma Mater, 
 and I think studious enough to hope for the honors she bestows 
 on her worthier sons. You are already entered at Trinity, 
 and in fancy I see my youth return to me in your image. 
 I see you wandering where the Cam steals its way through 
 those noble gardens ; and, confusing you with myself, I recall 
 the old dreams that haunted me when the chiming bells swung 
 over the placid waters. ' Verum secretumque mouseion, quam 
 multa dictatis, quam multa invenitis ! ' There at that illustri- 
 ous college, unless the race has indeed degenerated, you will
 
 Tin-: CAXTONS. 47 
 
 measure yourself with young giants. You will see those who, 
 in the Law, the Church, the State, or the still cloisters of 
 Learning, are destined to become the eminent leaders of your 
 age. To rank among them you are not forbidden to aspire ; 
 he who in youth ' can scorn delight, and love laborious days,' 
 should pitch high his ambition. 
 
 " Your Uncle Jack says he has done wonders with his news- 
 paper though Mr. Rollick grumbles, and declares that it is 
 full of theories, and that it puzzles the farmers. Uncle Jack, 
 in reply, contends that he creates an audience, not addresses 
 one, and sighs that his genius is thrown away in a provincial 
 town. In fact, he really is a very clever man, and might do 
 much in London, I dare say. He often comes over to dine 
 and sleep, returning the next morning. His energy is wonder- 
 ful, and contagious. Can you imagine that he has actually 
 stirred up the flame of my vanity, by constantly poking at the 
 bars? Metaphor apart I find myself collecting all my notes 
 and commonplaces, and wondering to see how easily they fall 
 into method, and take shape in chapters and books. I cannot 
 help smiling when I add, that I fancy I am going to become 
 an author ; and smiling more when I think that your Uncle 
 Jack should have provoked me into so egregious an ambition. 
 However, I have read some passages of my book to your 
 mother, and she says, ' it is vastly fine,' which is encouraging. 
 Your mother has great good sense, though I don't mean to 
 say that she has much learning which is a wonder, consider- 
 ing that Pic de la Mirandola was nothing to her father. Yet 
 he died, dear great man, and never printed a line, while I 
 positively I blush to think of my temerity ! 
 
 " Adieu, my son ; make the best of the time that remains 
 with you at the Philhellenic. A full mind is the true Pantheism, 
 plena Jovis. It is only in some corner of the brain which we 
 leave empty that Vice can obtain a lodging. When she knocks 
 at your door, my son, be able to say : ' No room for your lady- 
 ship pass on.' Your affectionate father, 
 
 " A. CAXTON." 
 
 II. FROM MRS. CAXTON. 
 " MY DEAREST SlSTY : 
 
 " You are coming home ! My heart is so full of that thought 
 that it seems to me as if I could not write anything else. 
 Dear child, you are coming home ; you have done with school, 
 you have done with strangers, you are our own, all our own 
 son again ! You are mine again, as you were in the cradle,
 
 48 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 the nursery, and the garden, Sisty, when we used to thro\f 
 daisies at each other ! You will laugh at me so, when I tell 
 you, that as soon as I heard you were coming home for good, 
 I crept away from the room, and went to my drawer where I 
 keep, you know, all my treasures. There was your little cap 
 that I worked myself, and your poor little nankeen jacket that 
 you were so proud to throw off oh ! and many other relics of 
 you when you were little Sisty, and I was not the cold, formal 
 1 Mother ' you call me now, but dear ' Mamma.' I kissed them, 
 Sisty, and said, ' My little child is coming back to me again ' ! 
 So foolish was I, I forgot all the long years that have passed, 
 and fancied I could carry you again in my arms, and that I 
 should again coax you to say ' God bless papa.' Well, well! 
 I write now between laughing and crying. You cannot be 
 what you were, but you are still my own dear son your 
 father's son dearer to me than all the world except that 
 father. 
 
 " I am so glad, too, that you will come so soon ; come while 
 your father is really warm with his book, and while you can 
 encourage and keep him to it. For why should he not be 
 great and famous ? Why should not all admire him as we do ? 
 You know how proud of him I always was ; but I do so long 
 to let the world know why I was so proud. And yet, after all, 
 it is not only because he is so wise and learned, but because he 
 is so good, and has such a large, noble heart. But the heart 
 must appear in the book, too, as well as the learning. For 
 though it is full of things I don't understand every now and 
 then there is something I do understand that seems as if that 
 heart spoke out to all the world. 
 
 " Your uncle has undertaken to get it published ; and your 
 father is going up to town with him about it, as soon as the 
 first volume is finished. 
 
 " All are quite well except poor Mrs. Jones, who has the 
 ague very bad indeed ; Primmins has made her wear a charm 
 for it, and Mrs. Jones actually declares she is already much 
 better. One can't deny that there may be a great deal in such 
 things, though it seems quite against the reason. Indeed your 
 father says, ' Why not ? A charm must be accompanied by a 
 strong wish on the part of the charmer that it may succeed 
 and what is magnetism but a wish ? ' I don't quite compre- 
 hend this ; but, like all your father says, it has more than 
 meets the eye, I am quite sure. 
 
 " Only three weeks to the holidays, and then no more school, 
 Sisty no more school ! I shall have your room all done
 
 THE CAXTONS. 49 
 
 freshly, and made so pretty ; they are coming about it to- 
 morrow. 
 
 " The duck is quite well, and I really don't think it is quite 
 as lame as it was. 
 
 " God bless you, dear, dear child ! Your affectionate happy 
 mother. K. C." 
 
 The interval between these letters and the morning on which 
 I was to return home seemed to me like one of those long, 
 restless, yet half-dreamy days which in some infant malady I had 
 passed in a sick-bed. I went through my taskwork mechan- 
 ically, composed a Greek ode in farewell to the Philhellenic, 
 which Dr. Herman pronounced a chef (Tceuvre, and my father, 
 to whom I sent it in triumph, returned a letter of false En- 
 glish with it, that parodied all my Hellenic barbarisms by imi- 
 tating them in my mother tongue. However, I swallowed the 
 leek, and consoled myself with the pleasing recollection that, 
 after spending six years in learning to write bad Greek, I 
 should never have any further occasion to avail myself of so 
 precious an accomplishment. 
 
 And so came the last day. Then alone, and in a kind of 
 delighted melancholy, I revisited each of the old haunts. The 
 robber's cave we had dug one winter, and maintained, six of 
 us, against all the police of the little kingdom. The place 
 near the pales where I had fought my first battle. The old 
 beech stump on which I sate to read letters from home ! 
 With my knife, rich in six blades (besides a corkscrew, a pen- 
 picker, and a button-hook), 1 carved my name in large capi- 
 tals over my desk. Then night came, and the bell rang, and 
 we went to our rooms. And I opened the window and looked 
 out. I saw all the stars, and wondered which was mine 
 which should light to fame and fortune the manhood about to 
 commence. Hope and Ambition were high within me ; and 
 yet, behind them stood Melancholy. Ah ! who amongst you, 
 readers, can now summon back all those thoughts, sweet and 
 sad ; all that untold, half-conscious regret for the past ; all 
 those vague longings for the future, which made a poet of the 
 dullest on the last night before leaving boyhood and school 
 forever !
 
 $0 THfc CAXTONS. 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT was a beautiful summer afternoon when the coach set me 
 down at my father's gate. Mrs. Primmins herself ran out to 
 welcome me : and I had scarcely escaped from the warm 
 clasp of her friendly hand, before I was in the arms of my 
 mother. 
 
 As soon as that tenderest of parents was convinced that I 
 was not famished, seeing that I had dined two hours ago at 
 Dr. Herman's, she led me gently across the garden towards 
 the arbor. " You will find your father so cheerful," said she, 
 wiping away a tear. " His brother is with him." 
 
 I stopped. His brother ! Will the reader believe it ? I 
 had never heard that he had a brother, so little were family 
 affairs ever discussed in my hearing. 
 
 " His brother ! " said I. " Have I then an Uncle Caxton as 
 well as an Uncle Jack ? " 
 
 " Yes, my love," said my mother. And then she added : 
 " Your father and he were not such good friends as they ought 
 to have been, and the Captain has been abroad. However, 
 thank Heaven ! they are now quite reconciled." 
 
 We had time for no more we were in the arbor. There, a 
 table was spread with wine and fruit the gentlemen were at 
 their dessert ; and those gentlemen were my father, Uncle 
 Jack, Mr. Squills, and tall, lean, buttoned-to-the-chin an 
 erect, martial, majestic, and imposing personage, who seemed 
 worthy of a place in my great ancestor's " Boke of Chivalrie." 
 
 All rose as I entered ; but my poor father, who was always 
 slow in his movements, had the last of me. Uncle Jack had 
 left the very powerful impression of his great seal-ring on my 
 fingers ; Mr. Squills had patted me on the shoulder, and pro- 
 nounced me '" wonderfully grown "; my new-found relative 
 had with great dignity said : "Nephew, your hand, sir I am 
 Captain de Caxton "; and even the tame duck had taken 
 her beak from her wing, and rubbed it gently between my 
 legs, which was her usual mode of salutation, before my father 
 placed his pale hand on my forehead, and looking at me for 
 a moment with unutterable sweetness, said : " More and 
 more like your mother God bless you ! "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 51 
 
 A chair had been kept vacant for me between my father and 
 his brother. I sat down in haste, and with a tingling color on 
 my cheeks and a rising at my throat, so much had the unusual 
 kindness of my father's greeting affected me ; ?nd then there 
 came over me a sense of my new position. I was no longer a 
 schoolboy at home for his brief holiday : I had returned 
 to the shelter of the roof-tree to become myself one of its 
 supports. I was at last a man, privileged to aid or solace 
 those dear ones who had ministered, as yet without return, to 
 me. That is a very strange crisis in our life when we come 
 home " for good" Home seems a different thing ; before one 
 has been but a sort of guest after all, only welcomed and 
 indulged, and little festivities held in honor of the released 
 and happy child. But to come \\omcfor good to have done 
 with school and boyhood is to be a guest, a child no more. 
 It is to share the everyday life of cares and duties ; it is to 
 enter into the confidences of home. Is it not so ? I could have 
 buried my face in my hands, and wept ! 
 
 My father, with all his abstraction and all his simplicity, had 
 a knack now and then of penetrating at once to the heart. I 
 verily believe he read all that was passing in mine 3s easily as 
 if it had been Greek. He stole his arm gently rounr- tiy waist 
 and whispered : " Hush ! " Then lifting his voice, i*e cried 
 aloud : " Brother Roland, you must not let Jack have the best 
 of the argument." 
 
 " Brother Austin," replied the Captain, very formally, " Mr. 
 Jack, if I may take the liberty so to call him " 
 
 " You may indeed," cried Uncle Jack. 
 
 " Sir," said the Captain, bowing, " it is a familiarity that 
 does me honor. I was about to say that Mr. Jack has retired 
 from the field." 
 
 "Far from it," said Squills, dropping an effervescing powder 
 into a chemical mixture which he had been preparing with 
 great attention, composed of sherry and lemon-juice " far 
 from it. Mr. Tibbets whose organ of combativeness is finely 
 developed, by the by was saying " 
 
 " That it is a rank sin and shame in the nineteenth century," 
 quoth Uncle Jack, "that a man like my friend Captain 
 Caxton " 
 
 " De Caxton, sir Mr. Jack." 
 
 " De Caxton of the highest military talents, of the most 
 illustrious descent a hero sprung from heroes should have 
 served so many years, and with such distinction, in his Majes- 
 ty's service, and should now be only a captain on half-pay.
 
 52 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 This, I say, comes of the infamous system of purchase, which 
 sets up the highest honors for sale as they did in the Roman 
 empire " 
 
 My father pricked up his ears ; but Uncle Jack pushed on 
 before my father could get ready the forces of his meditated 
 interruption. 
 
 "A system which a little effort, a little union, can so easily 
 terminate. Yes, sir," and Uncle Jack thumped the table, 
 and two cherries bobbed up and smote Captain de Caxton on 
 the nose " yes, sir, I will undertake to say that I could put 
 the army upon a very different footing. If the poorer and 
 more meritorious gentlemen, like Captain de Caxton, would, 
 as I was just observing, but unite in a grand anti-aristocratic 
 association, each paying a small sum quarterly, we could realize 
 a capital sufficient to outpurchase all these undeserving indi- 
 viduals, and every man of merit should have his fair chance of 
 promotion." 
 
 " Egad, sir," said Squills, " there is something grand in 
 that eh, Captain ? " 
 
 " No, sir," replied the Captain quite seriously ; "there is in 
 monarchies but one fountain of honor. It would be an inter- 
 ference with a soldier's first duty, his respect for his sovereign." 
 
 " On the contrary," said Mr. Squills, " it would still be to 
 the sovereigns that one would owe the promotion." 
 
 " Honor," pursued the Captain, coloring up, and unheeding 
 this witty interruption, " is the reward of a soldier. What do 
 I care that a young jackanapes buys his colonelcy over my 
 head ? Sir, he does not buy from me my wounds and my 
 services. Sir, he does not buy from me the medal I won at 
 Waterloo. He is a rich man, and I am a poor man ; he is 
 called colonel, because he paid money for the name. That 
 pleases him ; well and good. It would not please me : I had 
 rather remain a captain, and feel my dignity, not in my title, 
 but in the services by which it has been won. A beggarly, 
 rascally association of stockbrokers, for aught I know, buy me 
 a company ! I don't want to be uncivil, or I would say damn 
 'em, Mr. sir Jack ! " 
 
 A sort of thrill ran through the Captain's audience ; even 
 Uncle Jack seemed touched, for he stared very hard at the 
 grim veteran, and said nothing. The pause was awkward ; 
 Mr. Squills broke it. " I should like," quoth he, "to see your 
 Waterloo medal you have it not about you ? " 
 
 " Mr. Squills," answered the Captain, " it lies next to my 
 heart while I live. It shall be buried in my coffin, and I shall
 
 THE CAXTONS. 53 
 
 rise with it, at the v,ord of command, on the day of the Grand 
 Review ! " So saying, the Captain leisurely unbuttoned his 
 coat, and, detaching from a piece of striped ribbon as ugly a 
 specimen of the art of che silversmith (begging its pardon) as 
 ever rewarded merit at the expense of taste, placed the medal 
 on the table. 
 
 The medal passed round, without a word, from hand to 
 hand. 
 
 " It is strange," at last said my father, " how such trifles 
 can be made of such value how in one age a man sells his 
 life for what in the next age he would not give a button ! A 
 Greek esteemed beyond price a few leaves of olive twisted 
 into a circular shape, and set upon his head a very ridiculous 
 headgear we should now call it. An American Indian prefers 
 a decoration of human scalps, which, I apprehend, we should 
 all agree (save and except Mr. Squills, who is accustomed to 
 such things) to be a very disgusting addition to one's personal 
 attractions ; and my brother values this piece of silver, which 
 may be worth about five shillings, more than Jack does a gold 
 mine, or I do the library of the London Museum. A time 
 will come when people will think that as idle a decoration as 
 leaves and scalps." 
 
 " Brother," said the Captain, " there is nothing strange in 
 the matter. It is as plain as a pike-staff to a man who under- 
 stands the principles of honor." 
 
 " Possibly," said my father mildly. " I should like to hear 
 what you have to say upon honor. I am sure it would very 
 much edify us all." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 MY UNCLE ROLAND'S DISCOURSE UPON HONOR. 
 
 " GENTLEMEN," began the Captain, at the distinct appeal thus 
 made to him ; " Gentlemen, God made the earth, but man 
 made the garden. God made man, but man re-creates him- 
 self." 
 
 " True, by knowledge," said my father. 
 
 " By industry," said Uncle Jack. 
 
 " By the physical conditions of his bod}''," said Mr. Squills. 
 " He could not have made himself other than he was at first 
 in the woods and wilds if he had fins like a fish, or could only 
 chatter gibberish like a monkey. Hands and a tongue, sir ; 
 these are the instruments of progress."
 
 54 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Mr. Squills," said my father, nodding, " Anaxagoras said 
 very much the same thing before you, touching the hands." 
 
 " I can't help that," answered Mr. Squills ; "one could not 
 open one's lips, if one were bound to say what nobody else 
 had said. But, after all, our superiority is less in our hands 
 than the greatness of our thumbs." 
 
 " Albinus, de Sceleto, and our own learned William Law- 
 rence, have made a similar remark," again put in my father. 
 
 " Hang it, sir ! " exclaimed Squills, " what business have you 
 to know everything?" 
 
 "Everything! No; but thumbs furnish subjects of in- 
 vestigation to the simplest understanding 1 ," said my father 
 modestly. 
 
 "Gentlemen," recommenced my Uncle Roland, "thumbs 
 and hands are given to an Esquimaux, a? well as to scholars 
 and surgeons and what the deuce are they the wiser for 
 them ? Sirs, you cannot reduce us thus into mechanism. 
 Look within. Man, I say, recreates himself. How ? BY THE 
 PRINCIPLE OF HONOR. His first desire is to excel some one 
 else ; his first impulse is distinction above his fellows. Heaven 
 places in his sou!, as if it were a compass, a needle that always 
 points to one end, viz., to honor in that which those around 
 him consider honorable. Therefore, as man at first is ex- 
 posed to all dangers from wild beasts, and from men as 
 savage as himself, COURAGE becomes the first quality mankind 
 must honor : therefore the savage is courageous ; therefore 
 he covets the praise for courage ; therefore he decorates him- 
 self with the skins of the beasts he has subdued, or the scalps 
 of the foes he has slain. Sirs, don't tell me that the skins and 
 the scalps are only hide and leather ; they are trophies of honor. 
 Don't tell me that they are ridiculous and disgusting ; they 
 become glorious as proofs that the savage has emerged out of 
 the first brute-like egotism, and attached price to the praise 
 which men never give except for works that secure or advance 
 their welfare. By and by, sirs, our savages discover that they 
 cannot live in safety amongst themselves unless they agree to 
 speak the truth to each other : therefore TRUTH becomes 
 valued, and grows into a principle of honor ; so, Brother 
 Austin will tell us that, in the primitive times, truth was always 
 the attribute of a hero." 
 
 " Right," said my father : " Homer emphatically assigns it 
 to Achilles." 
 
 " Out of truth comes the necessity for some kind of rude 
 justice and law. Therefore men, after courage in the warrior,
 
 THE CAXTONS. 55 
 
 and truth in all, begin to attach honor to the elder, whom they 
 intrust with preserving justice amongst them. So, sirs, LAW 
 is born " 
 
 "But the first lawgivers were priests," quoth my father. 
 
 "Sirs, I am coming to that. Whence arises the desire of 
 honor, but from man's necessity of excelling in other words, 
 of improving his faculties for the benefit of others, though, 
 unconscious of that consequence, man only strives for their 
 praise ? But that desire for honor is unextinguishable, and 
 man is naturally anxious to carry its rewards beyond the grave. 
 Therefore, he who has slain most-lions or enemies is naturally 
 prone to believe that he shall have the best hunting fields in the 
 country beyond, and take the best place at the banquet. 
 Nature, in all its operations, impresses man with the idea of an 
 invisible Power ; and the principle of honor that is, the desire 
 of praise and reward makes him anxious for the approval 
 which that Power can bestow. Thence comes the first rude 
 idea of RELIGION ; and in the death-hymn at the stake, the 
 savage chants songs prophetic of the distinctions he is about 
 to receive. Society goes on ; hamlets are built ; property is 
 established. He who has more than another has more power 
 than another. Power is honored. Man covets the honor at- 
 tached to the power which is attached to possession. Thus 
 the soil is cultivated ; thus the rafts are constructed ; thus 
 tribe trades with tribe ; thus COMMERCE is founded, and 
 CIVILIZATION commenced. Sirs, all that seems least con- 
 nected with honor, as we approach the vulgar days of the 
 present, has its origin in honor, and is but an abuse of its 
 principles. If men nowadays are hucksters and traders if 
 even military honors are purchased, and a rogue buys his way 
 to a peerage still all arise from the desire for honor which 
 society, as it grows old, gives to the outward signs of titles 
 and gold, instead of, as once, to its inward essentials, courage, 
 truth, justice, enterprise. Therefore, I say, sirs, that honor is 
 the foundation of all improvement in mankind." 
 
 " You have argued like a schoolman, brother," said Mr. 
 Caxton admiringly ; "but still, as to this round piece of silver, 
 don't we go back to the most barbarous ages in estimating 
 so highly such things as have no real value in themselves as 
 could not give us one opportunity for instructing our minds ? 
 
 " Could not pay for a pair of boots," added Uncle Jack. 
 
 " Or," said Mr. Squills, "save you one twinge of the cursed 
 rheumatism you have got for life from that night's bivouac in 
 the Portuguese marshes to say nothing of the bullet in your
 
 56 THE CAX7ONS. 
 
 cranium, and that cork leg, which must much diminish the 
 salutary effects of your constitutional walk." 
 
 " Gentlemen," resumed the Captain, nothing abashed, " in 
 going back to those barbarous ages, I go back to the true 
 principles of honor. It is precisely because this round piece 
 of silver has no value in the market that it is priceless, for 
 thus it is only a proof of desert. Where would be the sense of 
 service in this medal, if it could buy back my leg, or if I could 
 bargain it away for forty thousand a year ? No, sirs, its value 
 is this : that when I wear it on my breast, men shall say, ' That 
 formal old fellow is not so useless as he seems. He was one 
 of those who saved England and freed Europe.' And even 
 when I conceal it here (and, devoutly kissing the medal, 
 Uncle Roland restored it to its ribbon and its resting-place), 
 and no eye sees it, its value is yet greater in the thought that 
 my country has not degraded the old and true principles of 
 honor, by paying the soldier who fought for her in the same 
 coin as that in which you, Mr. Jack, sir, pay your bootmaker's 
 bill. No, no, gentlemen. As courage was the first virtue that 
 honor called forth the first virtue from which all safety and 
 civilization proceed, so we do right to keep that one virtue at 
 least clear and unsullied from all the money-making, merce- 
 nary, pay-me-in-cash abomination, which are the vices, not the 
 virtues, of the civilization it has produced." 
 
 My Uncle Roland here came to a full stop ; and, filling 
 his glass, rose and said solemnly : " A last bumper, gentle- 
 men ' To the dead who died for England.' " 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "INDEED, my dear, you must take it. You certainly have 
 caught cold : you sneezed three times together." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, because I would take a pinch of Uncle 
 Roland's snuff, just to say that I had taken a pinch out of his 
 box the honor of the thing, you know." 
 
 " Ah, my dear ! what was that very clever remark you made 
 at the same time, which so pleased your father something 
 about Jews and the college ? " 
 
 " Jews and oh ! ' pulverem Olympicum collegisse juvat* my 
 dear mother which means, that it is a pleasure to take a 
 pinch out of a brave man's snuff-box. I say, mother, put 
 down the posset. Yes, I'll take it ; I will, indeed. Now, 
 then, sit here that's right and tell me all you know about
 
 THE CAXTONS. 57 
 
 this famous Old Captain. Imprimis, he is older than my 
 father ? " 
 
 "To be sure!" exclaimed my mother indignantly; "he 
 looks twenty years older ; but there is only five years' real 
 difference. Your father must always look young." 
 
 "And why does Uncle Roland put that absurd French de 
 before his name and why were my father and he not good 
 friends and is he married and has he any children ? " 
 
 Scene of this conference my own little room, new papered 
 on purpose for my return for good trellis-work paper, flowers 
 and birds all so fresh, and so new, and so clean, and so gay 
 with my books ranged in neat shelves, and a writing-table by 
 the window ; and, without the window, shines the still summer 
 moon. The window is a little open ; you scent the flowers and 
 the new-mown hay. Past eleven ; and the boy and his dear 
 mother are all alone. 
 
 " My dear, my dear ! you ask so many questions at once." 
 
 " Don't answer them, then. Begin at the beginning, as 
 Nurse Primmins does with her fairy tales : ' Once on a time.' " 
 
 "Once on a time, then," said my mother, kissing me be- 
 tween the eyes "once on a time, my love, there was a certain 
 clergyman in Cumberland who had two sons ; he had but a 
 small living, and the boys were to make their own way in the 
 world. But close to the parsonage, on the brow of a hill, rose 
 an old ruin, with one tower left, and this, with half the country 
 round it, had once belonged to the clergyman's family, but all 
 had been sold all gone piece by piece, you see, my dear, except 
 the presentation to the living (what they call the advowson 
 was sold too), which had been secured to the last of the 
 family. The elder of these sons was your Uncle Roland, the 
 younger was your father. Now I believe the first quarrel 
 arose from the absurdest thing possible, as your father says ; 
 but Roland was exceedingly touchy on all things connected 
 with his ancestors. He was always poring over the old pedi- 
 gree, or wandering amongst the ruins, or reading books of 
 knight-errantry. Well, where this pedigree began I know not, 
 but it seems that King Henry II. gave some lands in Cumber- 
 land to one Sir Adam de Caxton ; and from that time, you 
 see, the pedigree went regularly from father to son till Henry 
 V. ; then, apparently from the disorders produced, as your 
 father says, by the Wars of the Roses, there was a sad blank 
 left only one or two names, without dates or marriages, till 
 the time of Henry VII., except that, in the reign of Edward 
 IV., there was one insertion of a William Caxton (named in a
 
 58 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 deed). Now in the village church there was a beautiful brass 
 monument, to one Sir William de Caxton, who had been killed 
 at the battle of Bosworth, fighting for that wicked King Rich- 
 ard III. And about the same time there lived, as you know, 
 the great printer, William Caxton. Well, your father, happen- 
 ing to be in town on a visit to his aunt, took great trouble in 
 hunting up all the old papers he could find at the Herald's 
 College ; and sure enough he was overjoyed to satisfy himself 
 that he was descended, not from that poor Sir William, who 
 had been killed in so bad a cause, but from the great printer, 
 who was from a younger branch of the same family, and to 
 whose descendants the estate came, in the reign of Henry VIII. 
 It was upon this that your Uncle Roland quarrelled with him ; 
 and indeed I tremble to think that they may touch on that 
 matter again." 
 
 'Then, my dear mother, I must say my uncle was wrong 
 there, so far as common-sense is concerned ; but still, some- 
 how or other, I can understand it. Surely this was not the 
 only cause of estrangement ? " 
 
 My mother looked down, and moved one hand gently over 
 the other, which was her way when embarrassed. " What was 
 it, my own mother ? " said I coaxingly. 
 
 " I believe that is, I I think that they were both attached 
 to the same young lady." 
 
 " How ! you don't mean to say that my father was ever in 
 love with any one but you ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sisty yes, and deeply ! and," added my mother, 
 after a slight pause, and with a very low sigh, " he never was 
 in love with me ; and what is more, he had the frankness to 
 tell me so ! " 
 
 " And yet you " 
 
 " Married him yes ! " said my mother, raising the softest 
 and purest eyes that ever lover could have wished to read his 
 fate in ; " Yes, for the old love was hopeless. I knew that I 
 could make him happy. I knew that he would love me at last, 
 and he does so ! My son, your father loves me ! " 
 
 As she spoke, there came a blush as innocent as virgin ever 
 knew, to my mother's smooth cheek ; and she looked so fair, 
 so good, and still so young, all the while, that you would have 
 said that either Dusius, the Teuton fiend, or Nock, the 
 Scandinavian sea-imp, from whom the learned assure us we 
 derive our modern Daimones, " The Deuce," and Old Nick, 
 had indeed possessed my father, if he had not learned to love 
 such a creature.
 
 THE CAXTON& 59 
 
 I pressed her hand to my lips, but my heart was too fu!! to 
 speak for a moment or so ; and then I partially changed the 
 subject. 
 
 " Well, and this rivalry estranged them more ? And who 
 was the lady ? " 
 
 " Your father never told me, and I never asked," said my 
 mother simply. " But she was very different from me, I know. 
 Very accomplished, very beautiful, very high-born." 
 
 " For all that, my father was a lucky man to escape her. 
 Pass on. What did the Captain do ? " 
 
 " Why, about that time your grandfather died, and shortly 
 after an aunt, on the mother's side, who was rich and saving, 
 died, and unexpectedly left them each sixteen thousand pounds. 
 Your uncle, with his share, bought back, at an enormous price, 
 the old castle and some land round it, which they say does not 
 bring him in three hundred a year. With the little that 
 remained, he purchased a commission in the army ; and the 
 brothers met no more till last week, when Roland suddenly 
 arrived." 
 
 " He did not marry this accomplished young lady ? " 
 
 " No ! but he married another, and is a widower." 
 
 " Why, he was as inconstant as my father ; and I am sure 
 without so good an excuse. How was that ? " 
 
 " I don't know. He says nothing about it." 
 
 " Has he any children ? " 
 
 " Two, a son by the by, you must never speak about him. 
 Your uncle briefly said, when I asked him what was his fam- 
 ily : 'A girl, ma'am. I had a son, but ' 
 
 " ' He is dead,' cried your father, in his kind, pitying voice. 
 
 " ' Dead to me, brother and you will never mention his 
 name ! ' You should have seen how stern your uncle looked. 
 I was terrified." 
 
 " But the girl why did not he bring her here ? " 
 
 " She is still in France, but he talks of going over for her ; 
 and we have half promised to visit them both in Cumberland. 
 But bless me ! is that twelve ? And the posset quite cold ! " 
 
 " One word more, dearest mother one word. My father's 
 book is he still going on with it ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed ! " cried my mother, clasping her hands ; 
 " and he must read it to you, as he does to me you will under- 
 stand it so well. I have always been so anxious that the world 
 should know him, and be proud of him as we are so so 
 anxious ! for, perhaps, Sisty, if he had married that great 
 lady, he would have roused himself, been more ambitious
 
 Co THE CAXTONS. 
 
 and I could only make him happy, I could not make him 
 great ! " 
 
 " So he has listened to you at last ? " 
 
 " To me ! " said my mother, shaking her head and smiling 
 gently ; " No, rather to your Uncle Jack, who, I am happy to 
 say, has at length got a proper hold over him." 
 
 " A proper hold, my dear mother ! Pray beware of Uncle 
 Jack, or we shall be all swept into a coal-mine, or explode with 
 a grand national company for making gunpowder out of tea- 
 leaves ! " 
 
 " Wicked child ! " said my mother, laughing ; and then, as 
 she took up her candle and lingered a moment while I wound 
 my watch, she said musingly : " Yet Jack is very, very clever ; 
 and if for your sake we could make a fortune, Sisty ! " 
 
 " You frighten me out of my wits, mother ! You are not in 
 earnest?" 
 
 " And if my brother could be the means of raising him in the 
 world " 
 
 " Your brother would be enough to sink all the ships in the 
 Channel, ma'am," said I, quite irreverently. I was shocked 
 before the words were well out of my mouth ; and throwing 
 my arms round my mother's neck, I kissed away the pain I had 
 inflicted. 
 
 When I was left alone, and in my own little crib, in which 
 my slumber had ever been so soft and easy I might as well 
 Viave been lying upon cut straw. I tossed to and fro ; I could 
 not sleep. I rose, threw on my dressing-gown, lighted my 
 candle, and sat down by the table near the window. First I 
 thought of the unfinished outline of my father's youth, so sud- 
 denly sketched before me. I filled up the missing colors, and 
 fancied the picture explained all that had often perplexed my 
 conjectures. I comprehended, I suppose by some secret sym- 
 pathy in my own nature (for experience in mankind could 
 have taught me little enough), how an ardent, serious, inquir- 
 ing mind, struggling into passion under the load of knowledge, 
 had, with that stimulus, sadly and abruptly withdrawn, sunk 
 into the quiet of passive, aimless study. I comprehended 
 how, in the indolence of a happy but unimpassioned marriage, 
 with a companion so gentle, so provident and watchful, yet so 
 little formed to rouse, and task, and fire an intellect naturally 
 calm and meditative, years upon years had crept away in the 
 learned idleness of a solitary scholar. I comprehended, too, 
 how gradually and slowly, as my father entered that stage of 
 middle life, when all men are most prone to ambition, the long-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 6l 
 
 silenced whispers were heard again ; and the mind, at last 
 escaping from the listless weight which a baffled and disap- 
 pointed heart had laid upon it, saw once more, fair as in youth, 
 the only true mistress of Genius Fame. 
 
 Oh ! how I sympathized, too, in my mother's gentle triumph. 
 Looking over the past I could see, year after year, how she had 
 stolen more and more into my father's heart of hearts ; how 
 what had been kindness had grown into love ; how custom and 
 habit, and the countless links in the sweet charities of home, 
 had supplied that sympathy with the genial man which had 
 been missed at first by the lonely scholar. 
 
 Next I thought of the gray, eagle-eyed old soldier, with his 
 ruined tower and barren acres, and saw before me his proud, 
 prejudiced, chivalrous boyhood, gliding through the ruins or 
 poring over the mouldy pedigree. And this son, so disowned 
 for what dark offence ? an awe crept over me. And this 
 girl his ewe lamb his all was she fair ? Had she blue eyes 
 like my mother, or a high Roman nose and beetle brows like 
 Captain Roland ? I mused, and mused, and mused and the 
 candle went out, and the moonlight grew broader and stiller ; 
 till at last I was sailing in a balloon with Uncle Jack, and had 
 just tumbled into the Red Sea, when the well-known voice of 
 Nurse Primmins restored me to life with a " God bless my 
 heart ! the boy has not been in bed all this "varsal night ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 As soon as I was dressed I hastened downstairs, for I longed 
 to revisit my old haunts the little plot of garden I had sown 
 with anemones and cresses ; the walk by the peach wall ; the 
 pond wherein I had angled for roach and perch. 
 
 Entering the hall, I discovered my Uncle Roland in a great 
 state of embarrassment. The maid-servant was scrubbing the 
 stones at the hall-door ; she was naturally plump and it is 
 astonishing how much more plump a female becomes when she 
 is on all-fours! the maid-servant, then, was scrubbing the 
 stones, her face turned from the captain ; and the captain, evi- 
 dently meditating a sortie, stood ruefully gazing at the obsta- 
 cle before him and hemming aloud. Alas, the maid-servant 
 was deaf ! I stopped, curious to see how Uncle Roland would 
 extricate himself from the dilemma. 
 
 Finding that his hems were in vain, my uncle made himself 
 as small as he could, and glided close to the left of the wall :
 
 62 THE CAXTONS, 
 
 at that instant, the maid turned abruptly round towards the 
 right, and completely obstructed, by this manreuvre, the slight 
 crevice through which hope had dawned on her captive. My 
 uncle stood stockstill, and, to say the truth, he could not have 
 stirred an inch without coming into personal contact with the 
 rounded charms which blockaded his movements. My uncle 
 took off his hat and scratched his forehead in great perplexity. 
 Presently, by a slight turn of the flanks, the opposing party, 
 while leaving him an opportunity of return, entirely precluded 
 all chance of egress in that quarter. My uncle retreated in 
 haste, and now presented himself to the right wing of the ene- 
 my. He had scarcely done so when, without looking behind 
 her, the blockading party shoved aside the pail that crippled 
 the range of her operations, and so placed it that it formed a 
 formidable barricade, which my uncle's cork leg had no chance 
 of surmounting. Therewith Captain Roland lifted his eyes 
 appealingly to heaven, and I heard him distinctly ejaculate : 
 
 " Would to heaven she were a creature in breeches ! " 
 
 But happily at this moment the maid-servant turned her 
 head sharply round, and, seeing the captain, rose in an instant, 
 moved away the pail, and dropped a frightened curtsey. 
 
 My Uncle Roland touched his hat. " I beg you a thousand 
 pardons, my good girl," said he ; and, with a half bow, he slid 
 into the open air. 
 
 " You have a soldier's politeness, uncle," said I, tucking my 
 arm into Captain Roland's. 
 
 " Tush, my boy," said he, smiling seriously, and coloring up 
 to the temples ; " tush, say a gentleman's ! To us, sir, every 
 woman is a lady, in right of her sex." 
 
 Now, I had often occasion later to recall that aphorism of 
 my uncle's ; and it served to explain to me how a man, so prej- 
 udiced on the score of family pride, never seemed to con- 
 sider it an offence in my father to have married a woman whose 
 pedigree was as brief as my dear mother's. Had she been a 
 Montmorenci, my uncle could not have been more respectful 
 and gallant than he was to that meek descendant of the Tib- 
 betses. He held, indeed, which I never knew any other man, 
 vain of family, approve or support, a doctrine deduced from 
 the following syllogisms : first, That birth was not valuable in 
 itself, but as a transmission of certain qualities which descent 
 from a race of warriors should perpetuate, viz., truth, courage, 
 honor ; secondly, That, whereas from the woman's side we 
 derive our more intellectual faculties, from the man's we derive 
 our moral ; a clever and witty man generally has a clever and
 
 THE CAXTONS. 63 
 
 witty mother ; a brave and honorable man, a brave and hon- 
 orable father. Therefore, all the qualities which attention to 
 race should perpetuate are the manly qualities traceable only 
 from the father's side. Again, he held that while the aristoc- 
 racy have higher and more chivalrous notions, the people 
 generally have shrewder and livelier ideas. Therefore, to pre- 
 vent gentlemen from degenerating into complete dunderheads, 
 an admixture with the people, provided always it was on the 
 female side, was not only excusable, but expedient ; and, finally, 
 my uncle held, that, whereas a man is a rude, coarse, sensual 
 animal, and requires all manner of associations to dignify and 
 refine him, women are so naturally susceptible of every- 
 thing beautiful in sentiment, and generous in purpose, that 
 she who is a true woman is a fit peer for a king. Odd and 
 preposterous notions, no doubt, and capable of much contro- 
 versy, so far as the doctrine of race (if that be any way tenable) 
 is concerned ; but then the plain fact is, that my Uncle Roland 
 was as eccentric and contradictory a gentleman as as why, 
 as you and I are, if we once venture to think for ourselves. 
 
 "Well, sir, and what profession are you meant for?" asked 
 my uncle ; " not the army, I fear ? " 
 
 " I have never thought of the subject, uncle." 
 
 " Thank Heaven," said Captain Roland, " we have never 
 yet had a lawyer in the family ! nor a stockbroker, nor a trades- 
 man ahem ! " 
 
 I saw that my great ancestor the printer suddenly rose up in 
 that hem. 
 
 " Why, uncle, there are honorable men in all callings." 
 
 " Certainly, sir. But in all callings honor is not the first 
 principle of action." 
 
 " But it may be, sir, if a man of honor pursue it ! There 
 are some soldiers who have been great rascals ! " 
 
 My uncle looked posed, and his black brows met thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " You are right, boy, I dare say," he answered somewhat 
 mildly. " But do you think that it ought to give me as much 
 pleasure to look on my old ruined tower, if I knew it had been 
 bought by some herring-dealer, like the first ancestor of the 
 Poles, as I do now, when I know it was given to a knight and 
 gentleman (who traced his descent from an Anglo-Dane in the 
 time of King Alfred), for services done in Aquitaine and 
 Gascony, by Henry the Plantagenet ? And do you mean 
 to tell me that I should have been the same man if I had 
 not from a boy associated that old tower with all ideas of what
 
 64 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 its owners were, and should be, as knights and gentlemen ? 
 Sir, you would have made a different being of me, if at the 
 head of my pedigree you had clapped a herring-dealer ; though> 
 I dare say, the herring-dealer might have been as good a man 
 as ever the Anglo-Dane was ! God rest him ! " 
 
 " And for the same reason, I suppose, sir, that you think 
 my father never would have been quite the same being he is, 
 if he had not made that notable discovery touching our descent 
 from the great William Caxton, the printer ! " 
 
 My uncle bounded as if he had been shot ; bounded so 
 incautiously, considering the materials of which one leg was 
 composed, that he would have fallen into a strawberry-bed if 
 I had not caught him by the arm. 
 
 ",Why, you you you young jackanapes," cried the captain, 
 shaking me off as soon as he had regained his equilibrium. 
 " You do not mean to inherit that famous crotchet my brother 
 has got into his head ? You do not mean to exchange Sir 
 William de Caxton, who fought and fell at Bosworth, for the 
 mechanic who sold black-letter pamphlets in the Sanctuary at 
 Westminster? " 
 
 " That depends on the evidence, uncle ! " 
 
 " No, sir, like all noble truths, it depends uponfait/i. Men, 
 nowadays," continued my uncle, with a look of ineffable dis- 
 gust, "actually require that truths should be proved." 
 
 " It is a sad conceit on their part, no doubt, my dear uncle. 
 But till a truth is proved, how can we know that it is a truth?" 
 
 I thought that in that very sagacious question I had effectu- 
 ally caught my uncle. Not I. He slipped through it like 
 an eel. 
 
 " Sir," said he, " whatever, in Truth, makes a man's heart 
 warmer, and his soul purer, is a belief, not a knowledge. 
 Proof, sir, is a handcuff, belief is a wing ! Want proof as to 
 an ancestor in the reign of King Richard ! Sir, you cannot 
 even prove to the satisfaction of a logician that you are the 
 son of your own father. Sir, a religious man does not want 
 to reason about his religion religion is not mathematics. 
 Religion is to be felt, not proved. There are a great many 
 things in the religion of a good man which are not in the 
 catechism. Proof ! " continued my uncle, growing violent ; 
 " Proof, sir, is a low, vulgar, levelling, rascally Jacobin belief 
 is a loyal, generous, chivalrous gentleman ! No, no prove 
 what you please, you shall never rob me of one belief that has 
 made me " 
 
 " The finest-hearted creature that ever talked nonsense," said
 
 TII CAXTONS. 65 
 
 my father, who came up, like Horace's deity, at the right 
 moment. " What is it you must believe in, brother, no matter 
 what the proof against you ? " 
 
 My uncle was silent, and with great energy dug the point of 
 his cane into the gravel. 
 
 " He will not believe in our great ancestor the printer," said 
 I maliciously. 
 
 My father's calm brow was overcast in a moment. 
 
 " Brother," said the captain loftily, " you have a right to 
 your own ideas, but you should take care how they contami- 
 nate your child." 
 
 " Contaminate ! " said my father ; and for the first time I 
 saw an angry sparkle flash from his eyes, but he checked him- 
 self on the instant : " Change the word, my dear brother." 
 
 " No, sir, I will not change it ! To belie the records of the 
 family ! " 
 
 " Records ! A brass plate in a village church against all 
 the books of the College of Arms ! " 
 
 " To renounce your ancestor, a knight who died in the field ! " 
 
 " For the worst cause that man ever fought for ! " 
 
 <( On behalf of his king ! " 
 
 " Who had murdered his nephews ! " 
 
 " A knight ! with our crest on his helmet." 
 
 " And no brains underneath it, or he would never have had 
 them knocked out for so bloody a villain ! " 
 
 " A rascally, drudging, money-making printer ! " 
 
 " The wise and glorious introducer of the art that has 
 enlightened a world. Prefer for an ancestor, to one whom 
 scholar and sage never name but in homage, a worthless, ob- 
 scure, jolter-headed booby in mail, whose only record to men 
 is a brass plate in a church in a village ! " 
 
 My uncle turned round perfectly livid. " Enough, sir ! 
 enough ! I am insulted sufficiently. I ought to have expected 
 it. I wish you and your son a very good-day." 
 
 My father stood aghast. The captain was hobbling off to 
 the iron gate ; in another moment he would have been out of 
 our precincts. I ran up and hung upon him. " Uncle, it is 
 all my fault. Between you and me, I am quite of your side ; 
 pray, forgive us both. What could I have been thinking of, 
 to vex you so ? And my father, whom your visit has made so 
 happy ! " 
 
 My uncle paused, feeling for the latch of the gate. My 
 father had now come up, and caught his hand. " What are 
 all the printers that ever lived, and all the books they ever
 
 66 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 printed, to one wrong to thy fine heart, Brother Roland ? 
 Shame on me ! A bookman's weak point, you know ! It is 
 very true I should never have taught the boy one thing to 
 give you pain, Brother Roland ; though I don't remember," 
 continued my father, with a perplexed look, " that I eve did 
 teach it him either ! Pisistratus, as you value my blessing, 
 respect as your ancestor Sir William de Caxton, the hero of 
 Bosworth. Come, come, brother ! " 
 
 " I am an old fool," said Uncle Roland, " whichever way we 
 look at it. Ah, you young dog ! you are laughing at us both ! " 
 
 " I have ordered breakfast on the lawn," said my mother, 
 coming out from the porch, with her cheerful smile on her 
 lips ; " and I think the devil will be done to your liking to-day, 
 Brother Roland." 
 
 " We have had enough of the devil already, my love," said 
 my father, wiping his forehead. 
 
 So, while the birds sang overhead, or hopped familiarly 
 across the sward for the crumbs thrown forth to them, while 
 the sun was still cool in the east, and the leaves yet rustled 
 with the sweet air of morning, we all sat down to our table, 
 with hearts as reconciled to each other, and as peaceably dis- 
 posed to thank God for the fair world around us, as if the 
 river had never run red through the field of Bosworth, and 
 that excellent Mr. Caxton had never set all mankind by the 
 ears with an irritating invention, a thousand times more pro- 
 vocative of our combative tendencies than the blast of the 
 trumpet and the gleam of the banner ! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "BROTHER," said Mr. Caxton, " I will walk with you to the 
 Roman encampment." 
 
 The Captain felt that this proposal was meant as the great- 
 est peace-offering my father could think of ; for, first, it was 
 a very long walk, and my father detested long walks ; sec- 
 ondly, it was the sacrifice of a whole day's labor at the Great 
 Work. And yet, with that quick sensibility, which only the 
 generous possess, Uncle Roland accepted at once the proposal. 
 If he had not done so, my father would have had a heavier 
 heart for a month to come. And how could the Great Work 
 have got on while the author was every now and then dis- 
 turbed by a twinge of remorse ? 
 
 Hajf an hour after breakfast, the brothers set off arm-in-
 
 THE CAXiONS. 67 
 
 arm ; and I followed, a little apart, admiring how sturdily the 
 old soldier got over the ground, in spite of the cork leg. It 
 was pleasant enough to listen to their conversation, and notice 
 the contrasts between these two eccentric stamps from Dame 
 Nature's ever-variable mould Nature who casts nothing in 
 stereotype, for I do believe that not even two fleas can be 
 found identically the same. 
 
 My father was not a quick or minute observer of rural beau- 
 ties. He had so little of the organ of locality, that I suspect 
 he could have lost his way in his own garden. But the Cap- 
 tain was exquisitely alive to external impressions not a fea- 
 ture in the landscape escaped him. At every fantastic gnarled 
 pollard he halted to gaze ; his eye followed the lark soaring up 
 from his feet ; when a fresher air came from the hill-top, his 
 nostrils dilated, as if voluptuously to inhale its delight. My 
 father, with all his learning, and though his study had been in 
 the stores of all language, was very rarely eloquent. The 
 Captain had a glow and a passion in his words, which, what 
 with his deep, tremulous voice, and animated gestures, gave 
 something poetic to half of what he uttered. In every sen- 
 tence of Roland's, in every tone of his voice, and every play 
 of his face, there was some outbreak of pride : but, unless you 
 set him on his hobby of that great ancestor the printer, my 
 father had not as much pride as a homceopathist could have 
 put into a globule. He was not proud even of not being 
 proud. Chafe all his feathers, and still you could rouse but 
 the dove. My father was slow and mild, my uncle quick and 
 fiery ; my father reasoned, my uncle imagined ; my father was 
 very seldom wrong, my uncle never quite in the right ; but, as 
 my father once said of him : " Roland beats about the bush 
 till he sends out the very bird that we went to search for. He 
 is never in the wrong without suggesting to us what is the 
 right." All in my uncle was stern, rough, and angular ; all in 
 my father was sweet, polished, and rounded into a natural 
 grace. My uncle's character cast out a multiplicity of shadows, 
 like a Gothic pile in a northern sky. My father stood serene 
 in the light, like a Greek temple at mid-day in a southern 
 clime. Their persons corresponded with their natures. My 
 uncle's high, aquiline features, bronzed hue, rapid fire of eye, 
 and upper lip that always quivered, were a notable contrast to 
 my father's delicate profile, quiet, abstracted gaze, and the 
 steady sweetness that rested on his musing smile. Roland's 
 forehead was singularly high, and rose to a peak in the sum- 
 mit where phrenologists place the organ of veneration, but it
 
 68 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 was narrow, and deeply furrowed. Augustine's might be as 
 high, but then soft, silky hair waved carelessly over it, conceal- 
 ing its height, but not its vast breadth, on which not a wrinkle 
 was visible. And yet, withal, there was a great family likeness 
 between the two brothers. When some softer sentiment sub- 
 dued him, Roland caught the very look of Augustine ; when 
 some high emotion animated my father, you might have taken 
 him for Roland. I have often thought since, in the greater 
 experience of mankind which life has afforded me, that if, in 
 early years, their destinies had been exchanged if Roland had 
 taken to literature, and my father had been forced into action 
 that each would have had greater worldly success. For Ro- 
 land's passion and energy would have given immediate and 
 forcible effect to study ; he might have been a historian or a 
 poet. It is not study alone that produces a writer ; it is inten- 
 sity. In the mind, as in yonder chimney, to make the fire burn 
 hot and quick, you must narrow the draught. Whereas, had 
 my father been forced into the practical world, his calm depth 
 of comprehension, his clearness of reason, his general accuracy 
 in such notions as he once entertained and pondered over, 
 joined to a temper that crosses and losses could never ruffle, 
 an utter freedom from vanity and self-love, from prejudice and 
 passion, might have made him a very wise and enlightened 
 counsellor in the great affairs of life a lawyer, a diplomatist, 
 a statesman, for what I know, even a great general if his 
 tender humanity had no', stood in the way of his military 
 mathematics. 
 
 But, as it was with his slow puke never stimulated by 
 action, and too little stirred by even scholarly ambition my 
 father's mind went on widening and widening, till the circle 
 was lost in the great ocean of contemplation ; and Roland's 
 passionate energy, fretted into fever by every let and hin- 
 drance in the struggle with his kind, and narrowed more and 
 more as it was curbed within the channels of active discipline 
 and duty, missed its due career altogether ; and what might 
 have been the poet contracted into the humorist. 
 
 Yet, who that had ever known ye could have wished you 
 other than ye were ye guileless, affectionate, honest, simple 
 creatures ? simple both, in spite of all the learning of the one, 
 all the prejudices, whims, irritabilities, and crotchets of the 
 other ? There you are seated on the height of the old Roman 
 camp, with a volume of the Stratagems of Polycenus (or is it 
 Frontinus ?) open on my father's lap ; the sheep grazing in the 
 furrows of the circumvallations ; the curious steer gazing at
 
 THE CAXTONS. 69 
 
 you where it halts in the space whence the Roman cohorts 
 glittered forth. And your boy-biographer standing behind you 
 with folded arms ; and as the scholar read or the soldier 
 pointed his cane to each fancied post in the war filling up the 
 pastoral landscape with the eagles of Agricola and the scythed 
 cars of Boadicea ! 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "Ix is never the same two hours together in this country," 
 said my Uncle Roland, as after dinner, or rather after dessert, 
 we joined my mother in the drawing-room. 
 
 Indeed, a cold, drizzling rain had come on within the last 
 two hours ; and though it was July, it was as chilly as if it had 
 been October. My mother whispered to me, and I went out ; 
 in ten minutes more, the logs (for we lived in a wooded country) 
 blazed merrily in the grate. Why could not my my mother 
 have rung the bell, and ordered the servant to light a fire ? 
 My dear reader, Captain Roland was poor, and he made a 
 capital virtue of economy ! 
 
 The two brothers drew their chairs near to the hearth, my 
 father at the left, my uncle at the right ; and I and my mother 
 sat down to " Fox and geese." 
 
 Coffee came in one cup for the Captain, for the rest of the 
 party avoided that exciting beverage. And on that cup was a 
 picture of His Grace the Duke of Wellington ! 
 
 During our visit to the Roman camp, my mother had bor- 
 rowed Mr. Squills' chaise, and driven over to our market- 
 town, for the express purpose of greeting the Captain's eyes 
 with the face of his old chief. 
 
 My uncle changed color, rose, lifted my mother's hand to 
 his lips, and sat himself down again in silence. 
 
 " I have heard," said the Captain aftor a pause, " that the 
 Marquis of Hastings, who is every inch a soldier and a gentle- 
 man and that is saying not a little, for he measures seventy- 
 five inches from the crown to the sole when he received Louis 
 XVIII. (then an exile) at Donnington, fitted up his apartments 
 exactly like those his majesty had occupied at the Tuileries. 
 It was a kingly attention, (my Lord Hastings, you know, is 
 sprung from the Plantagenets) a kingly attention to a king. 
 It cost some money and made some noise. A woman can show 
 the same royal delicacy of heart in this bit of porcelain, and 
 so quietly, that we men all think it a matter of course, Brother 
 Austin."
 
 70 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " You are such a worshipper of women, Rofand, that it is 
 melancholy to see you single. You must marry again !" 
 
 My uncle first smiled, then frowned, and lastly sighed some- 
 what heavily. 
 
 " Your time will pass slowly in your old tower, poor brother," 
 continued my father, " with only your little girl for a com- 
 panion." 
 
 " And the past ! " said my uncle ; "the past, that mighty 
 world " 
 
 " Do you still read your old books of chivalry, Froissart and 
 the Chronicles, Palmerin of England and Amadisof Gaul ?" 
 
 " Why," said my uncle, reddening, " I have tried to improve 
 myself with studies a little more substantial. And (he added 
 with a sly smile) there will be your great book for many a long 
 winter to come." 
 
 " Urn ! " said my father bashfully. 
 
 " Do you know," quoth my uncle, " that Dame Primmins is 
 a very intelligent woman ; full of fancy, and a capital story- 
 teller ?" 
 
 " Is not she, uncle ?" cried I, leaving my fox in a corner. 
 " Oh, if you could hear her tell the tale of King Arthur and 
 the Enchanted Lake, or the Grim White Woman ! " 
 
 " I have already heard her tell both," said my uncle. 
 
 " The deuce you have, brother ! My dear, we must look to 
 this. These captains are dangerous gentleman in an orderly 
 household. Pray, where could you have had the opportunity 
 of such private communications with Mrs Primmins ?" 
 
 " Once," said my uncle readily, " when I went into her room, 
 while she mended my stock ; and once " he stopped short, and 
 looked down. 
 
 " Once when ? Out with it." 
 
 " When she was warming my bed," said my uncle, in a half- 
 whisper. 
 
 " Dear ! " said my mother innocently, 4< that's how the sheets 
 came by that bad hole in the middle. I thought it was the 
 warming-pan." 
 
 " I am quite shocked ! " faltered my uncle. 
 
 " You well may be," said my father. " A woman who has 
 been heretofore above all suspicion ! But come," he said, 
 seeing that my uncle looked sad, and was no doubt casting up 
 the probable price of twice six yards of Holland ; " But come, 
 you were always a famous rhapsodist or tale-teller yourself. 
 Come, Roland, let us have some story of your own ; something 
 which your experience has left strong in your impressions."
 
 HE CAXTONg. 7t 
 
 " Let us first have the candles," said my mother. 
 
 The candles were brought, the curtains let down, we all drew 
 our chairs to the hearth. But, in the interval, my uncle had 
 sunk into a gloomy revery ; and when we called upon him to 
 begin, he seemed to shake off with effort some recollections of 
 pain. 
 
 " You ask me," he said, " to tell you some tale which my 
 own experience has left deeply marked in my impressions I 
 will tell you one apart from my own life, but which has often 
 haunted me. It is sad and strange, ma'am." 
 
 " Ma'am, brother ? " said my mother reproachfully, letting 
 her small hand drop upon that which, large and sunburnt, the 
 Captain waved towards her as he spoke. 
 
 " Austin, you have married an angel ! " said my uncle ; and 
 he was, I believe, the only brother-in-law who ever made so 
 hazardous an assertion. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MY UNCLE ROLAND'S TALE. 
 
 " IT was in Spain, no matter where or how, that it was my 
 fortune to take prisoner a French officer of the same rank that 
 I then held a lieutenant ; and there was so much similarity 
 in our sentiments that we became intimate friends the most 
 intimate friend I ever had, sister, out of this dear circle. He 
 was a rough soldier, whom the world had not well treated ; 
 but he never railed at the world, and maintained that he had 
 had his deserts. Honor was his idol, and the sense of honor 
 paid him for the loss of all else. 
 
 " We were both at that time volunteers in a foreign service 
 in that worst of service, civil war he on one side, I the other ; 
 both, perhaps, disappointed in the cause we had severally 
 espoused. There was something similar, too, in our domestic 
 relationships. He had a son a boy who was all in life to 
 him, next to his country and his duty. I, too, had then such 
 a son, though of fewer years." (The Captain paused an 
 instant : we exchanged glances, and a stifling sensation of pain 
 and suspense was felt by all his listeners.) " We were accus- 
 tomed, brother, to talk of these children : to picture their 
 future, to compare our hopes and dreams. We hoped and 
 dreamed alike. A short time sufficed to establish this confi-
 
 72 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 dence. My prisoner was sent to headquarters, and soon after- 
 wards exchanged. 
 
 " We met no more till last year. Being then at Paris, I 
 inquired for my old friend, and learned that he was living at 
 
 R , a few miles from the capital. I went to visit him. I 
 
 found his house empty and deserted. That very day he had 
 been led to prison, charged with a terrible crime. I saw him 
 in that prison, and from his own lips learned his story. His 
 son had been brought up, as he fondly believed, in the habits 
 and principles of honorable men ; and, having finished his 
 
 education, came to reside with him at R . The young 
 
 man was accustomed to go frequently to Paris. A young 
 Frenchman loves pleasure, sister, and pleasure is found at Paris. 
 The father thought it natural, and stripped his age of some 
 comforts to supply luxuries to the son's youth. 
 
 " Shortly after the young man's arrival, my friend perceived 
 that he was robbed. Moneys kept in his bureau were 
 abstracted he knew not how, nor could guess by whom. It 
 must be done in the night. He concealed himself, and watched. 
 He saw a stealthy figure glide in, he saw a false key applied 
 to the lock ; he started forward, seized the felon, and recog- 
 nized his son. What should the father have done ? I do not 
 ask you, sister ! I ask these men ; son and father, I ask 
 you." 
 
 " Expelled him the house," cried I. 
 
 " Done his duty, and reformed the unhappy wretch," said 
 my father. " Nemo repente turpissimus sempel- fuit No man 
 is wholly bad all at once." 
 
 " The father did as you would have advised, brother. He 
 kept the youth ; he remonstrated with him ; he did more he 
 gave him the key of the bureau. ' Take what I have to give,' 
 said he : ' I would rather be a beggar than know my son a 
 thief.' " 
 
 " Right : and the youth repented, and became a good 
 man ? " exclaimed my father. 
 
 Captain Roland shook his head. " The youth promised 
 amendment, and seemed penitent. He spoke of the tempta- 
 tions of Paris, the gaming-table, and what not. He gave up 
 his daily visits to the capital. He seemed to apply to study. 
 Shortly after this, the neighborhood was alarmed by reports of 
 night robberies on the road. Men, masked and armed, plun- 
 dered travellers, and even broke into houses. 
 
 " The police were on the alert. One night an old brother 
 pfficer knocked at my friend's door. It was late : the veteran
 
 THE CAXTONS. 73 
 
 (he was a cripple, by the way, like myself strange coinci- 
 dence ! ) was in bed. He came down in haste, when his ser- 
 vant woke, and told him that his old friend, wounded and 
 bleeding, sought an asylum under his roof. The wound, 
 however, was slight. The guest had been attacked and robbed 
 on the road. The next morning the proper authority of the 
 town was sent for. The plundered man described his loss 
 some billets of five hundred francs in a pocket-book, on which 
 was embroidered his name and coronet (he was a vicomte). 
 The guest stayed to dinner. Late in the forenoon the son 
 looked in. The guest started to see him : my friend noticed 
 his paleness. Shortly after, on pretence of faintness, the guest 
 retired to his room, and sent for his host. ' My friend,' said 
 he, ' can you do me a favor ? Go to the magistrate and recall 
 the evidence I have given.' 
 
 " ' Impossible,' said the host. ' What crotchet is this ? ' 
 
 "The guest shuddered. 'Peste!' said he : ' I do not wish 
 in my old age to be hard on others. Who knows how the 
 robber may have been tempted, and who knows what relations 
 he may have honest men, whom his crime would degrade 
 forever ! Good heavens ! if detected, it is the galleys, the 
 galleys ! ' 
 
 " And what then ? The robber knew what he braved.' 
 
 " ' But did his father know it ? ' cried the guest. 
 
 " A light broke upon my unhappy comrade in arms : he 
 caught his friend by the hand : ' You turned pale at my son's 
 sight where did you ever see him before ? Speak ? ' 
 
 " ' Last night, on the road to Paris. The mask slipped 
 aside. Call back my evidence ! ' 
 
 " ' You are mistaken,' said my friend calmly. ' I saw my 
 son in his bed, and blessed him, before I went to my own.' 
 
 "'I will believe you,' said the guest; 'and never shall my 
 hasty suspicion pass my lips but call back the evidence.' 
 
 " The guest returned to Paris before dusk. The father 
 conversed with his son on the subject of his studies ; he 
 followed him to his room, waited till he was in bed, and was 
 then about to retire, when the youth said : ' Father, you have 
 forgotten your blessing.' 
 
 " The father went back, laid his hand on the boy's head and 
 prayed. He was credulous fathers are so ! He was per- 
 suaded that his friend had been deceived. He retired to rest, 
 and fell asleep. He woke suddenly in the middle of the night, 
 and felt (I here quote his words) ' I felt,' said he, ' as if a 
 voice had awakened me a voice that said " Rise and search."
 
 74 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 I arose at once, struck a light, and went to my son's room. 
 The door was locked. I knocked once, twice, thrice, no 
 answer. I dared not call aloud, lest I should rouse the ser- 
 vants. I went down the stairs I opened the back-door I 
 passed to the stables. My own horse was there, not my 
 son's. My horse neighed ; it was old, like myself my old 
 charger at Mount St. Jean ! I stole back, I crept into the 
 shadow of the wall by my son's door, and extinguished my 
 light. I felt as if I were a thief myself." ' 
 
 " Brother," interrupted my mother under her breath, " speak 
 in your own words, not in this wretched father's. I know not 
 why, but it would shock me less." 
 
 The Captain nodded. 
 
 "Before day-break, my friend heard the back-door open 
 gently ; a foot ascended the stair, a key grated in the door of 
 the room close at hand the father glided through the dark 
 into that chamber behind his unseen son. 
 
 " He heard the clink of the tinder-box ; a light was struck ; 
 it spread over the room, but he had time to place himself behind 
 the window-curtain, which was close at hand. The figure before 
 him stood a moment or so motionless, and seemed to listen, for 
 it turned to the right, to the left, its visage covered with the 
 black, hideous mask which is worn in carnivals. Slowly the 
 mask was removed ; could that be his son's face ? The son 
 of a brave man ? It was pale and ghastly with scoundrel 
 fears ; the base drops stood on the brow ; the eye was haggard 
 and bloodshot. He looked as a coward looks when death 
 stands before him. 
 
 " The youth walked, or rather skulked, to the secretaire, 
 unlocked it, opened a secret drawer ; placed within it the 
 contents of his pockets and his frightful mask : the father 
 approached softly, looked over his shoulder, and saw in the 
 drawer the pocket-book embroidered with his friend's name. 
 Meanwhile, the son took .out his pistols, uncocked them 
 cautiously, and was about also to secrete them when his father 
 arrested his arm. ' Robber, the use of these is yet to come.' 
 
 "The .son's knees knocked together, an exclamation for 
 mercy burst from his lips ; but when, recovering the mere 
 shock of his dastard nerves, he perceived it was not the gripe 
 of some hireling of the law, but a father's hand that had 
 clutched his arm, the vile audacity which knows fear only from 
 a bodily cause, none from the awe of shame, returned to him. 
 
 " ' Tush, sir,' he said, ' waste not time in reproaches, for, I 
 fear, the gens-d 'armes are on my track. It is well that you
 
 THE CAXTONS. 75 
 
 are here ; you can swear that I have spent the night at home. 
 Unhand me, old man I have these witnesses still to secrete,' 
 and he pointed to the garments wet and dabbled with the mud 
 of the roads. He had scarcely spoken when the walls shook ; 
 there was the heavy clatter of hoofs on the ringing pavement 
 without. 
 
 "'They come!' cried the son. 'Off, dotard! save your 
 son from the galleys.' 
 
 " ' The galleys, the galleys ! 'said the father staggering back ; 
 ' it is true he said " the galleys." ' 
 
 "There was a loud knocking at the gate. The gens-d'armes 
 surrounded the house. ' Open, in the name of the law.' No 
 answer came, no door was opened. Some of the gens-d'armes 
 rode to the rear of the house, in which was placed the stable- 
 yard. From the window of the son's room, the father saw the 
 sudden blaze of torches, the shadowy forms of the men- 
 hunters. He heard the clatter of arms as they swung them- 
 selves from their horses. He heard a voice cry : ' Yes, this is 
 the robber's gray horse see, it still reeks with sweat ! ' And 
 behind and in front, at either door, again came the knocking, 
 and again the shout : ' Open, in the name of the law.' 
 
 " Then lights began to gleam from the casements of the 
 neighboring houses ; then the space rilled rapidly with curious 
 wonderers startled from their sleep ; the world was astir, and 
 the crowd came round to know what crime or what shame had 
 entered the old soldier's home. 
 
 " Suddenly, within, there was heard the report of a firearm ; 
 and a minute or so afterwards the front door was opened, and 
 the soldier appeared. 
 
 " ' Enter,' he said to the gens-d'armes : ' what would you ? ' 
 
 " 'We seek a robber who is within your walls." 
 
 " ' I know it ; mount and find him : I will lead the way.' 
 
 " He ascended the stairs, he threw open his son's room ; the 
 officers of justice poured in, and on the floor lay the robber's 
 corpse. 
 
 " They looked at each other in amazement. ' Take what is 
 left you,' said the father. ' Take the dead man rescued from 
 the galleys ; take the living man on whose hands rests the 
 dead man's blood ! " 
 
 " I was present at my friend's trial. The facts had become 
 known beforehand. He stood there with his gray hair, and 
 his mutilated limbs, and the deep scar on his visage, and the 
 cross of the Legion of Honor on his breast ; and when he had 
 told his tale, he ended with these words : ' I have saved the
 
 76 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 son whom I reared for France from a doom that would have 
 spared the life to brand it with disgrace. Is this a crime? I 
 give you my life in exchange for my son's disgrace. Does my 
 country need a victim ! I have lived for my country's glory, 
 and I can die contented to satisfy its laws ; sure that, if you 
 blame me, you will not despise ; sure that the hands that give 
 me to the headsman will scatter flowers over my grave. Thus 
 I confess all. I, a soldier, look round amongst a nation of 
 soldiers ; and in the name of the star which glitters on my 
 breast, I dare the Fathers of France to condemn me ! ' 
 
 " They acquitted the soldier at least they gave a verdict 
 answering to what in our courts is called 'justifiable homicide.' 
 A shout rose in the court, which no ceremonial voice could 
 still ; the crowd would have borne him in triumph to his house, 
 but his look repelled such vanities. To his house he returned 
 indeed, and the day afterwards they found him dead, beside 
 the cradle in which his first prayer had been breathed over his 
 sinless child. Now, father and son, I ask you, do you condemn 
 that man ? " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MY father took three strides up and down the room, and 
 then, halting on his hearth, and facing his brother, he thus 
 spoke : " I condemn his deed, Roland ! At best he was but a 
 haughty egotist. I understand why Brutus should slay his 
 sons. By that sacrifice he saved his country ! What did this 
 poor dupe of an exaggeration save ? nothing but his own 
 name. He could not lift the crime from his son's soul, nor 
 the dishonor from his son's memory. He could but gratify 
 his own vain pride ; and, insensibly to himself, his act was 
 whispered to him by the fiend that ever whispers to the heart 
 of man : ' Dread men's opinions more than God's law ! ' Oh, 
 my dear brother, what minds like yours should guard against 
 the most is not the meanness of evil, it is the evil that takes 
 false nobility, by garbing itself in the royal magnificence of 
 good." My uncle walked to the window, opened it, looked 
 out a moment, as if to draw in fresh air, closed it gently, and 
 came back again to his seat ; but during the short time the 
 window had been left open, a moth flew in. 
 
 " Tales like these," renewed my father pityingly, " whether 
 told by some great tragedian, or in thy simple style, my 
 brother tales like these have their uses : they penetrate the 
 heart to make it wiser ; but all wisdom is meek, my Roland.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 7? 
 
 They invite us to put the question to ourselves that thou hast 
 asked : ' Can we condemn this man ? ' and reason answers, as 
 I have answered : ' We pity the man, we condemn the deed.' 
 We take care, my love ! that moth will be in the candle. 
 We whish ! whisk / " and my father stopped to drive away 
 the moth. My uncle turned, and taking his handkerchief 
 from the lower part of his face, of which he had wished to 
 conceal the workings, he flapped away the moth from the flame. 
 My mother moved the candles from the moth. I tried to catch 
 the moth in my father's straw-hat. The deuce was in the 
 moth ! It baffled us all ; now circling against the ceiling, now 
 sweeping down at the fatal lights. As if by a simultaneous 
 impulse, my father approached one candle, my uncle approached 
 the other ; and just as the moth was wheeling round and round, 
 irresolute which to choose for its funeral pyre, both candles 
 were put out. The fire had burned down low in the grate, 
 and in the sudden dimness my father's soft, sweet voice came 
 forth, as if from an invisible being : " We leave ourselves in 
 the dark to save a moth from the flame, brother ! shall we do 
 less for our fellow-men ? Extinguish, oh, humanely extinguish 
 the light of our reason, when the darkness more favors GUI' 
 mercy." Before the lights were relit, my uncle had left the 
 room. His brother followed him ; my mother and I drew 
 near to each other, and talked in whispers. 
 
 PART FOURTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I WAS always an early riser. Happy the man who is ! 
 Every morning, day comes to him with a virgin's love, full of 
 bloom, and purity, and freshness. The youth of Nature is 
 contagious, like the gladness of a happy child. I doubt if any 
 man can be called " old " so long as he is an early riser, and 
 an early walker. And oh, Youth ! take my word of it youth 
 in dressing-gown and slippers, dawdling over breakfast at 
 noon, is a very decrepit, ghastly image of that youth which sees 
 the sun blush over the mountains, and the dews sparkle upon 
 blossoming hedgerows. 
 
 Passing by my father's study, I was surprised to see the
 
 78 THE CAXTOMS. 
 
 windows unclosed surprised more, on looking in, to see him 
 bending over his books for I had never before known him 
 study till after the morning meal. Students are not usually 
 early risers, for students, alas ! whatever their age, are rarely 
 young. Yes ; the Great Book must be getting on in serious 
 earnest. It was no longer dalliance with learning : this was 
 work. 
 
 I passed through the gates into the road. A few of the cot- 
 tages were giving signs of returning life ; but it was not yet 
 the hour for labor, and no " Good-morning, sir," greeted me 
 on the road. Suddenly at a turn, which an overhanging beech- 
 tree had before concealed, I came full upon my Uncle 
 Roland. 
 
 " What ! you, sir ? So early ? Hark, the clock is striking 
 five ! " 
 
 " Not later ! I have walked well for a lame man. It must 
 be mere than four miles to and back." 
 
 " You have been to : not on business ? No soul would 
 
 be up." 
 
 " Yes, at inns, there is always some one up. Ostlers never 
 sleep ! I have been to order my humble chaise and pair. I 
 leave you to-day, nephew." 
 
 " Ah, uncle, we have offended you. It was my folly, that 
 cursed print " 
 
 " Pooh ! " said my uncle quickly. " Offended me, boy ! I 
 defy you ! " and he pressed my hand roughly. 
 
 " Yet this sudden determination ! It was but yesterday, at 
 the Roman Camp, that you planned an excursion with my 
 father, to C Castle." 
 
 " Never depend upon a whimsical man. I must be in Lon- 
 don to-night." 
 
 " And return to-morrow ? " 
 
 " I know not when," said my uncle gloomily ; and he was 
 silent for some moments. At length, leaning less lightly on 
 my arm, he continued : " Young man, you have pleased me. 
 I love that open, saucy brow of yours, on which Nature has 
 written * Trust me.' I love those clear eyes, that look one 
 manfully in the face. I must know more of you much of 
 you. You must come and see me some day or other in your 
 ancestors' ruined keep." 
 
 "Come! that I will. And you shall show me the old 
 tower " 
 
 " And the traces of the outworks ! " cried my uncle, flour- 
 ishing his stick.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 79 
 
 " And the pedigree " 
 
 " Ay, and your great-great-grandfather's armor, which he 
 wore at Marston Moor " 
 
 "Yes, and the brass plate in the church, uncle." 
 
 " The deuce is in the boy ! Come here, come here ; I've 
 three minds to break your head, sir ! " 
 
 " It is a pity somebody had not broken the rascally printer's, 
 before he had the impudence to disgrace us by having a family, 
 uncle." 
 
 Captain Roland tried hard to frown, but he could not. 
 " Pshaw ! " said he, stopping, and taking snuff. " The world 
 of the dead is wide ; why should the ghosts jostle us ? " 
 
 " We can never escape the ghosts, uncle. They haunt us 
 always. We cannot think or act, but the soul of some man, 
 who has lived before, points the way. The dead never die, 
 especially since " 
 
 " Since what, boy ? you speak well." 
 
 " Since our great ancestor introduced printing," said I ma- 
 jestically. 
 
 My uncle whistled " Malbrouk s'en va-t-en guerre." 
 
 I had not the heart to plague him further. 
 
 " Peace ! " said I, creeping cautiously within the circle of 
 the stick. 
 
 " No ! I forewarn you " 
 
 " Peace ! and describe to me my little cousin, your pretty 
 daughter for pretty I am sure she is." 
 
 " Peace," said my uncle, smiling. " But you must come and 
 judge for yourself." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 UNCLE ROLAND was gone. Before he went, he was closeted 
 for an hour with my father, who then accompanied him to the 
 gate ; and we all crowded round him as he stepped into his 
 chaise. When the Captain was gone, I tried to sound my 
 father as to the cause of so sudden a departure. But my 
 father was impenetrable in all that related to his brother's 
 secrets. Whether or not the Captain had ever confided to him 
 the cause of his displeasure with his son a mystery which 
 much haunted me my father was mute on that score, both to 
 my mother and myself. For two or three days, however, Mr. 
 Caxton was evidently unsettled. He did not even take to his 
 Great Work, but walked much alone, or accompanied only by 
 the duck, and without even a book in his hand. But by de-
 
 So THii CAXTONS. 
 
 grees the scholarly habits returned to him ; my mother mended 
 his pens, and the work went on. 
 
 For my part, left much to myself, especially in the mornings, 
 I began to muse restlessly over the future. Ungrateful that I 
 was, the happiness of home ceased to content me. I heard 
 afar the roar of the great world, and roved impatient by the 
 shore. 
 
 At length one evening, my father, with some modest hums 
 and ha's, and an unaffected blush on his fair forehead, grati- 
 fied a prayer frequently urged on him, and read me some 
 portions of the Great Work. I cannot express the feel- 
 ings this lecture created ; they were something akin to 
 awe. For the design of this book was so immense, and 
 towards its execution, a learning so vast and various had ad- 
 ministered, that it seemed to me as if a spirit had opened to 
 me a new world, which had always been before my feet, but 
 which my own human blindness had hitherto concealed from 
 me. The unspeakable patience with which all these materials 
 had been collected, year after year ; the ease with which now, 
 by the calm power of genius, they seemed of themselves to fall 
 into harmony and system ; the unconscious humility with 
 which the scholar exposed the stores of a laborious life all 
 combined to rebuke my own restlessness and ambition, while 
 they filled me with a pride in my father, which saved my wounded 
 egotism from a pang. Here, indeed, was one of those books 
 which embraces an existence ; like the Dictionary of Bayle, 
 or the History of Gibbon, or the Fasti Hellenici of Clinton, it 
 was a book to which thousands of books had contributed, only 
 to make the originality of the single mind more bold and clear. 
 Into the furnace all vessels of gold, of all ages, had been cast ; 
 but from the mould came the new coin, with its single stamp. 
 And happily, the subject of the work did not forbid to the 
 writer the indulgence of his naive, peculiar irony of humor so 
 quiet, yet so profound. My father's book was the " History 
 of Human Error." It was, therefore, the moral history of 
 mankind, told with truth and earnestness, yet with an arch, 
 unmalignant smile. Sometimes, indeed, the smile drew tears. 
 But in all true humor lies its germ, pathos. Oh ! by the god- 
 dess Moria or Folly, but he was at home in his theme '. He 
 viewed man first in the savage state, preferring in this the 
 positive accounts of voyagers and travellers, to the vague 
 myths of antiquity, and the dreams of speculators on our 
 pristine state. From Australia and Abyssinia he drew pictures 
 of mortality unadorned, as lively as if he had lived amongst
 
 THE CAXTONS. 8l 
 
 Bushmen and savages all his life. Then he crossed over the 
 Atlantic and brought before you the American Indian, with 
 his noble nature, struggling into the dawn of civilization, 
 when friend Penn cheated him out of his birthright, and the 
 Anglo Saxon drove him back into darkness. He showed both 
 analogy and contrast between this specimen of our kind, and 
 others equally apart from the extremes of the savage state 
 and the cultured. The Arab in his tent, the Teuton in his 
 forests, the Greenlander in his boat, the Fin in his reindeer 
 car. Up sprang the rude gods of the north, and the resusci- 
 tated Druidism, passing from its earliest templeless belief into 
 the later corruptions of crommell and idol. Up sprang, by 
 their side, the Saturn of the Phoenicians, the mystic Budh of 
 India, the elementary deities of the Pelasgian, the Naith and 
 Serapis of Egypt, the Ormuzd of Persia, the Bel of Babylon, 
 the winged genii of the graceful Etruria. How nature and life 
 shaped the religion ; how the religion shaped the manners ;how, 
 and by what influences, some tribes were formed for progress ; 
 how others were destined to remain stationary, or be swallowed 
 up in war and slavery by their brethren, was told with a pre- 
 cision clear and strong as the voice of Fate. Not only an anti- 
 quarian and philologist, but an anatomist and philosopher, 
 my father brought to bear on all these grave points the various 
 speculations involved in the distinction of races. He showed 
 how race in perfection is produced, up to a certain point, by 
 admixture ; how all mixed races have been the most intelligent ; 
 how, in proportion as local circumstances and religious 
 faith permitted the early fusion of different tribes, races 
 improved and quickened into the refinements of civiliza- 
 tion. He tracked the progress and dispersion of the Hel- 
 lenes, from their mythical cradle in Thessaly ; and showed 
 how those who settled near the seashores, and were compelled 
 into commerce and intercourse with strangers, gave to Greece 
 her marvellous accomplishments in arts and letters the flowers 
 of the ancient world. How others, like the Spartans, dwelling 
 evermore in a camp, on guard against their neighbors, and 
 rigidly preserving their Dorian purity of extraction, con- 
 tributed neither artists, nor poets, nor philosophers to the 
 golden treasure-house of mind. He took the old race of the 
 Celts, Cimry, or Cimmerians. He compared the Celt, who, as 
 in Wales, the Scotch Highlands, in Bretagne, and in uncom- 
 prehended Ireland, retains his old characteristics and purity of 
 breed, with the Celt, whose blood, mixed by a thousand chan- 
 nels, dictates from Paris the manners and revolutions of the
 
 82 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 world. He compared the Norman in his ancient Scandi- 
 navian home, with that wonder of intelligence and chivalry 
 into which he grew, fused imperceptibly with the Frank, the 
 Goth, and the Anglo-Saxon. He compared the Saxon, sta- 
 tionary in the land of Horsa, with the colonist and civilizer of 
 the globe, as he becomes, when he knows not through what 
 channels French, Flemish, Danish, Welch, Scotch, and Irish 
 he draws his sanguine blood. And out from all these spec- 
 ulations, to which, I do such hurried and scanty justice, he 
 drew the blessed truth, that carries hope to the land of the 
 Caffre, the hut of the Bushman that there is nothing in the 
 flattened skull and the ebon aspect that rejects God's law 
 improvement ; that by the same principle which raises the dog, 
 the lowest of the animals in its savage state, to the highest 
 after man, viz., admixture of race, you can elevate into nations 
 of majesty and power the outcasts of humanity, now your 
 compassion or your scorn. But when my father got into the 
 marrow of his theme when quitting these preliminary dis- 
 cussions, he fell pounce amongst the would-be wisdom of the 
 wise ; when he dealt with civilization itself, its schools, and 
 porticos, and academies ; when he bared the absurdities 
 couched beneath the colleges of the Egyptians, and the Sym- 
 posia of the Greeks ; when he showed that, even in their own 
 favorite pursuit of metaphysics, the Greeks were children ; 
 and, in their own more practical region of politics, the Romans 
 were visionaries and bunglers ; when, following the stream of 
 error through the Middle Ages, he quoted the puerilities of 
 Agrippa, the crudities of Cardan, and passed, with his calm 
 smile, into the salons of the chattering wits of Paris in the 
 eighteenth century, oh ! then his irony was that of Lucian, 
 sweetened by the gentle spirit of Erasmus. For not even 
 here was my father's satire of the cheerless and Mephistophe- 
 lian school. From this record of error he drew forth the 
 grand eras of truth. He showed how earnest men never think 
 in vain, though their thoughts may be errors. He proved how, 
 in vast cycles, age after age, the human mind marches on 
 like the ocean, receding here, but there advancing. How 
 from the speculations of the Greek sprang all true philosophy, 
 how from the institutions of the Roman rose all durable sys- 
 tems of government ; how from the robust follies of the north 
 came the glory of chivalry, and the modern delicacies of honor, 
 and the sweet harmonizing influences of woman. He tracked 
 the ancestry of our Sidneys and Bayards from the Hengists, 
 Genserics, and Attilas. Full of all curious and quaint anec
 
 THE CAXTONS. 83 
 
 dote, of original illustration, of those niceties of learning which 
 spring from a taste cultivated to the last exquisite polish the 
 book amused, and allured, and charmed ; and erudition lost 
 its pedantry now in the simplicity of Montaigne, now in the 
 penetration of La Bruyere. He lived in each time of which 
 he wrote, and -the time lived again in him. Ah ! what a writer 
 of romances he would have been, if if what ? If he had had 
 as sad an experience of men's passions, as he had the happy 
 intuition into their humors. But he who would see the 
 mirror of the shore, must look where it is cast on the river, 
 not the ocean. The narrow stream reflects the gnarled tree, 
 and the pausing herd, and the village spire, and the romance 
 of the landscape. But the sea reflects only the vast outline of 
 the headland, and the lights of the eternal heaven. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " IT is Lombard Street to a China orange," quoth Uncle 
 Jack. 
 
 " Are the odds in favor of fame against failure so great ? 
 You do not speak, I fear, from experience, Brother Jack," 
 answered my father, as he stooped down to tickle the duck 
 under the left ear. 
 
 " But Jack Tibbets is not Augustine Caxton. Jack Tibbets 
 is not a scholar, a genius, a wond " 
 
 " Stop," cried my father. 
 
 "After all," said Mr. Squills, "though I am no flatterer, 
 Mr. Tibbets is not so far out. That part of your book which 
 compares the crania or skulls of the different races is superb. 
 Lawrence or Dr. Prichard could not have done the thing more 
 neatly. Such a book must not be lost to the world ; and I 
 agree with Mr. Tibbets that you should publish as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 " It is one thing to write and another to publish," said my 
 father irresolutely. " When one considers all the great men 
 who have published ; when one thinks one is going to intrude 
 one's-self audaciously into the company of Aristotle and Bacon, 
 of Locke, of Herder of all the grave philosophers who bend 
 over Nature with brows weighty with thought one may well 
 pause, and " 
 
 " Pooh ! " interrupted Uncle Jack ; " Science is not a club, 
 it is an ocean. It is open to the cockboat as the frigate. 
 One man carries across it a freightage of ingots, another may
 
 84 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 fish there for herrings. Who can exhaust the sea ? Who say 
 to intellect, ' the deeps of philosophy are preoccupied ' ? " 
 
 " Admirable ! " cried Squills. 
 
 " So it is really your advice, my friends," said my father, 
 who seemed struck by Uncle Jack's eloquent illustrations, 
 "that I should desert my household gods, remove to London, 
 since my own library ceases to supply my wants ; take lodg- 
 ings near the British Museum, and finish off one volume, at 
 least, incontinently." 
 
 " It is a duty you owe to your country," said Uncle Jack 
 solemnly. 
 
 ' ; And to yourself," urged Squills. " One must attend to 
 the natural evacuations of the brain. Ah ! you may smile, 
 sir ; but I have observed that if a man has much in his head, 
 he must give it vent or it oppresses him ; the whole system 
 goes wrong. From being abstracted, he grows stupefied. 
 The weight of the pressure affects the nerves. I would not 
 even guarantee you from a stroke of paralysis." 
 
 " Oh, Austin ! " cried my mother tenderly, and throwing 
 her arms round my father's neck. 
 
 " Come, sir, you are conquered," said I. 
 
 " And what is to become of you, Sisty ? " asked my father. 
 " Do you go with us, and unsettle your mind for the uni- 
 versity ? " 
 
 " My uncle has invited me to his castle ; and in the mean- 
 while I will stay here, fag hard, and take care of the duck." 
 
 " All alone ? " said my mother. 
 
 " No. All alone ! Why, Uncle Jack will come here as often 
 as ever, I hope." 
 
 Uncle Jack shook his head. 
 
 " No, my boy ; I must go to town with your father. You 
 don't understand these things. I shall see the booksellers for 
 him. I know how these gentlemen are to be dealt with. I 
 shall prepare the literary circles for the appearance of the 
 book. In short it is a sacrifice of interest, 1 know. My Jour- 
 nal will suffer. But friendship and my country's good before 
 all things." 
 
 " Dear Jack ! " said my mother affectionately. 
 
 " I cannot suffer it," cried my father. " You are making a 
 good income. You are doing well where you are ; and as to 
 seeing the booksellers why, when the work is ready, you can 
 come to town for a week, and settle that affair." 
 
 " Poor, dear Austin," said Uncle Jack, with an air of supe- 
 riority and compassion. " A week ! Sir, the advent of a book
 
 THE CAXTONS. 85 
 
 that is to succeed requiries the preparation of months. 
 Pshaw ! I am no genius, but I am a practical man. J know 
 what's what. Leave me alone." 
 
 But my father continued obstinate, and Uncle Jack at last 
 ceased to urge the matter. The journey to fame and London 
 was now settled ; but my father would not hear of my staying 
 behind. 
 
 No ; Pisistratus must needs go also to town and see the 
 world ; the duck would take care of itself. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WE had taken the precaution to send the day before to 
 secure our due complement of places four in all (including 
 one for Mrs. Primmins) in, or upon, the fast family coach 
 called the Sun, which had lately been set up for the special 
 convenience of the neighborhood. 
 
 This luminary, rising in a town about seven miles distant 
 from us, described at first a very erratic orbit amidst the con- 
 tiguous villages, before it finally struck into the high-road of 
 enlightenment, and thence performed its journey, in the full 
 eyes of man, at the majestic pace of six miles and a half an 
 hour. My father, with his pockets full of books, and a quarto 
 of " Gebelin on the Primitive World " for light reading under 
 his arm ; my mother with a little basket, containing sandwiches, 
 and biscuits of her own baking ; Mrs. Primmins, with a new 
 umbrella, purchased for the occasion, and a birdcage contain- 
 ing a canary, endeared to her not more by song than age, and 
 a severe pip through which she had successfully nursed it, and 
 I myself, waited at the gates to welcome the celestial visitor. 
 The gardener, with a wheelbarrow full of boxes and portman- 
 teaus, stood a little in the van ; and the footman, who was to 
 follow when lodgings had been found, had gone to a rising 
 eminence to watch the dawning of the expected Sun, and ap- 
 prise us of its approach by the concerted signal of a handker- 
 chief fixed to a stick. 
 
 The quaint old house looked at us mournfully from all its 
 deserted windows. The litter before its threshhold, and in its 
 open hall ; wisps of straw or hay that had been used for pack- 
 ing ; baskets and boxes that had been examined and rejected ; 
 others, corded and piled, reserved to follow with the footman, 
 and the two heated and hurried serving-women left behind 
 standing half-way between house and garden-gate, whispering
 
 86 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 to each other, and looking as if they had not slept for weeks 
 gave to a scene, usually so trim and orderly, an aspect of 
 pathetic abandonment and desolation. The Genius of the 
 place seemed to reproach us. I felt the omens were against 
 us, and turned my earnest gaze from the haunts behind with a 
 sigh, as the coach now drew up "ith all its grandeur. An 
 important personage, who, despite the heat of the day, was 
 enveloped in a vast superfluity of belcher, in the midst of which 
 galloped a gilt fox, and who rejoiced in the name of " guard," 
 descended to inform us politely, that only three places, two 
 inside and one out, were at our disposal, the rest having been 
 pre-engaged a fortnight before our orders were received. 
 
 Now, as I knew that Mrs. Primmins was indispensable to 
 the comforts of my honored parents (the more so, as she had 
 once lived in London, and knew all its ways), I suggested that 
 she should take the outside seat, and that I should perform 
 the journey on foot a primitive mode of transport, which has 
 its charms to a young man with stout limbs and gay spirits. 
 The guard's outstretched arm left my mother little time to 
 oppose this proposition, to which my father assented with a 
 silent squeeze of the hand. And, having promised to join 
 them at a family hotel near the Strand, to which Mr. Squills 
 had recommended them as peculiarly genteel and quiet, and 
 waved my last farewell to my poor mother, who continued to 
 stretch her meek face out of the window till the coach was 
 whirled off in a cloud like one of the Homeric heroes, I 
 turned within, to put up a few necessary articles in a small 
 knapsack, which I remembered to have seen in the lumber- 
 room, and which had appertained to my maternal grandfather ; 
 and with that on my shoulder, and a strong staff in my hand, 
 I set off towards the great city at as brisk a pace as if I were 
 only bound to the next village. Accordingly, about noon I 
 was both tired and hungry ; and seeing by the wayside one of 
 those pretty inns yet peculiar to England, but which, thanks 
 to the railways, will soon be amongst the things before the 
 Flood, I sat down at a table under some clipped limes, 
 unbuckled my knapsack, and ordered my simple fare, with the 
 dignity of one who, for the first time in his life, bespeaks his 
 own dinner, and pays for it out of his own pocket. 
 
 While engaged on a rasher of bacon and a tankard of what 
 the landlord called " No mistake," two pedestrians, passing 
 the same road which I had traversed, paused, cast a simulta- 
 neous look at my occupation, and, induced no doubt by its 
 allurements, seated themselves under the same lime-trees,
 
 THE CAXTONS. 87 
 
 though at the farther end of the table. I surveyed the new- 
 comers with the curiosity natural to my years. 
 
 The elder of the two might have attained the age of thirty, 
 though sundry deep lines, and hues formerly florid and now 
 faded, speaking of fatigue, care, or dissipation, might have 
 made him look somewhat older than he was. There was 
 nothing very prepossessing in his appearance. He was dressed 
 with a pretension ill suited to the costume appropriate to a 
 foot-traveller. His coat was pinched and padded; two enor- 
 mous pins, connected by a chain, decorated a very stiff stock of 
 blue satin, dotted with yellow stars ; his hands were cased in 
 very dingy gloves, which had once been straw-colored, and the 
 said hands played with a whalebone cane surmounted by a 
 formidable knob, which gave it the appearance of a " life-pre- 
 server." As he took off a white, napless hat, which he wiped 
 with great care and affection with the sleeve of his right arm, 
 a profusion of stiff curls instantly betrayed the art of man. Like 
 my landlord's ale, in that wig there was "no mistake " ! it was 
 brought (after the fashion of the wigs we see in the popular 
 effigies of George IV. in his youth) low over his forehead and 
 was raised at the top. The wig had been oiled, and the oil 
 had imbibed no small quantity of dust ; oil and dust had alike 
 left their impression on the forehead and cheeks of the wig's 
 proprietor. For the rest, the expression of his face was some- 
 what impudent and reckless, but not without a certain drollery 
 in the corners of his eyes. 
 
 The younger man was apparently about my own age, a year 
 or two older, perhaps, judging rather from his set and sinewy 
 frame than his boyish countenance. And this last, boyish as 
 it was, could not fail to demand the attention even of the most 
 careless observer. It had not only the darkness, but the 
 character of the gypsy face, with large, brilliant eyes, raven 
 hair, long and wavy, but not curling ; the features were aqui- 
 line, but delicate, and when he spoke he showed teeth dazzling 
 as pearls. It was impossible not to admire the singular beauty 
 of the countenance ; and yet it had that expression at once 
 stealthy and fierce, which war with society has stamped upon 
 the lineaments of the race of which it reminded me. But, 
 withal, there was somewhat of the air of a gentleman in this 
 young wayfarer. His dress consisted of a black velveteen 
 shooting-jacket, or rather short frock, with a broad leathern 
 strap at the waist, loose white trousers, and a foraging cap, 
 which he threw carelessly on the table as he wiped his brow. 
 Turning round impatiently, and with some haughtiness, from
 
 88 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 his companion, he surveyed me with a quick, observant flash 
 of his piercing eyes, and then stretched himself at length on 
 the bench, and appeared either to doze or muse, till, in obedi- 
 ence to his companion's orders, the board was spread with all 
 the cold meats the larder could supply. 
 
 "Beef!" said his companion, screwing a pinchbeck glass 
 into his right eye. " Beef mottled, cowey humph. Lamb 
 oldish rawish muttony humph. Pie stalish. Veal ? no, 
 pork. Ah ! what will you have ?" 
 
 " Help yourself," replied the young man peevishly as he sat 
 up, looked disdainfully at the viands, and, after a long pause, 
 tasted first one, then the other, with many shrugs of the shoul- 
 ders and muttered exclamations of discontent. Suddenly he 
 looked up and called for brandy ; and, to my surprise, and I 
 fear admiration, he drank nearly half a tumblerful of that 
 poison undiluted, with a composure that spoke of habitual 
 use. 
 
 " Wrong ! " said his companion, drawing the bottle to him- 
 self, and mixing the alcohol in careful proportions with water. 
 " Wrong ! coats of stomach soon wear out with that kind of 
 clothes-brush. Better stick to the 'yeasty foam,' as sweet Will 
 says. That young gentleman sets you a good example," and 
 therewith the speaker nodded at me familiarly. Inexperienced 
 as I was, I surmised at once that it was his intention to make 
 acquaintance with the neighbor thus saluted. I was not de- 
 ceived. " Anything to tempt you, sir ?" asked this social per- 
 sonage after a short pause, and describing a semicircle with 
 the point of his knife. 
 
 " I thank you, sir, but I have dined." 
 
 " What then ? ' Break out into a second course of mischief,' 
 as the swan recommends swan of Avon, sir ! No ? ' Well, 
 then, I charge you with this cup of sack.' Are you going far, 
 if I may take the liberty to ask ? " 
 
 " To London." 
 
 " Oh ! " said the traveller, while his young companion lifted 
 his eyes ; and I was again struck with their remarkable pene- 
 tration and brilliancy. 
 
 " London is the best place in the world for a lad of spirit. 
 See life there ; ' glass of fashion and mould of form.' Fond 
 of the play, sir?" 
 
 "I never saw one." 
 
 " Possible ! " cried the gentleman, dropping the handle of 
 his knife, and bringing up the point horizontally : then, young 
 man," he added solemnly, " you have but J wont say what
 
 THE CAXTONS. 89 
 
 you have to see. I wont say no, not if you could cover this 
 table with golden guineas, and exclaim with the generous ardor 
 so engaging in youth, ' Mr. Peacock, these are yours, if you 
 will only say what I have to see ! ' ' 
 
 I laughed outright may I be forgiven for the boast, but I 
 had the reputation at school of a pleasant laugh. The young 
 man's face grew dark at the sound : he pushed back his plate 
 and sighed. 
 
 " Why," continued his friend, " my companion here, who, I 
 suppose, is about your own age, he could tell you what a play 
 is ! He could tell you what life is. He has viewed the man- 
 ners of the town : ' perused the traders," as the swan poetically 
 remarks. Have you not, my lad, eh ? " 
 
 Thus directly appealed to, the boy looked up with a smile 
 of scorn on his lips : 
 
 " Yes, I know what life is, and I say that life, like poverty, 
 has strange bed-fellows. Ask me what life is now, and I say 
 a melodrama ; ask me what it is twenty years hence, and I 
 shall say " 
 
 " A farce ? " put in his comrade. 
 
 " No, a tragedy or comedy as Moliere wrote it." 
 
 " And how is that ? " I asked, interested and somewhat sur- 
 prised at the tone of my contemporary. 
 
 " Where the play ends in the triumph of the wittiest rogue. 
 My friend here has no chance ! " 
 
 " ' Praise from Sir Hubert Stanley,' hem yes, Hal Peacock 
 may be witty, but he is no rogue." 
 
 " That was not exactly my meaning," said the boy drily. 
 
 '"A fico for your meaning," as the swan says. Hallo, you, 
 sir ! Bully Host, clear the table, fresh tumblers hot water 
 sugar lemon, and the bottle's out ! Smoke, sir ? " and 
 Mr. Peacock offered me a cigar. 
 
 Upon my refusal, he carefully twirled round a very uninvit- 
 ing specimen of some fabulous havanna, moistened it all over, 
 as a boa-constrictor may do the ox he prepares for degluti- 
 tion ; bit off one end, and lighting the other from a little ma- 
 chine for that purpose which he drew from his pocket, he was 
 soon absorbed in a vigorous effort (which the damp inherent in 
 the weed long resisted) to poison the surrounding atmosphere. 
 Therewith the young gentleman, either from emulation or 
 in self-defence, extracted from his own pouch a cigar-case 
 of notable elegance, being of velvet, embroidered appa- 
 rently by some fair hand, for " From Juliet " was very legibly 
 worked thereon ; selected a cigar of better appearance than
 
 90 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 that in favor with his comrade, and seemed quite as familiar 
 with the tobacco as he had been with the brandy. 
 
 "Fast, sir fast lad that ! " quoth Mr. Peacock, in the short 
 gasps which his resolute struggle with his uninviting victim 
 alone permitted "nothing but (puff, puff) your true 
 (suck, suck) syl syl sylva does for him. Out, by the 
 Lord! 'the jaws of darkness have devoured it up'"; and 
 again Mr. Peacock applied to his phosphoric machine. This 
 time patience and perseverance succeeded, and the heart of 
 the cigar responded by a dull, red spark (leaving the sides 
 wholly untouched) to the indefatigable ardor of its wooer. 
 
 This feat accomplished, Mr. Peacock exclaimed triumph- 
 antly : "And now, what say you, my lads, to a game at cards ? 
 Three of us whist and a dummy nothing better eh ? " As 
 he spoke he produced from his coat pocket a red silk hand- 
 kerchief, a bunch of keys, a nightcap, a toothbrush, a piece of 
 shaving-soap, four lumps of sugar, the remains of a bun, a 
 razor, and a pack of cards. Selecting the last, and returning 
 its motley accompaniments to the abyss whence they had 
 emerged, he turned up, with a jerk of his thumb and finger, 
 the knave of clubs, and placing it on the top of the rest, 
 slapped the cards emphatically on the table. 
 
 " You are very good, but I don't know whist," said I. 
 
 " Not know whist not been to a play not smoke ! Then 
 pray tell me, young man (said he majestically, and with a 
 frown), what on earth you do know ! " 
 
 Much consternated by this direct appeal, and greatly 
 ashamed of my ignorance of the cardinal points of erudition 
 in Mr. Peacock's estimation, I hung my head and looked 
 down. 
 
 " That is right," renewed Mr. Peacock more benignly ; 
 " you have the ingenuous shame of youth. It is promising, 
 sir ' lowliness is young ambition's ladder,' as the swan says. 
 Mount the first step, and learn whist sixpenny points to 
 begin with." 
 
 Notwithstanding any newness in actual life, I had had the 
 good fortune to learn a little of the way before me, by those 
 much-slandered guides called novels works which are often 
 to the inner world what maps are to the outer ; and sundry 
 recollections of " Gil Bias " and the " Vicar of Wakefield " 
 came athwart me. I had no wish to emulate the worthy Moses, 
 and felt that I might not have even the shagreen spectacles to 
 boast of, in my negotiations with this new Mr. Jenkinson. 
 Accordingly, shaking my head, I called for my bill. As I took
 
 THE CAXTONS. 91 
 
 out my purse knit by my mother with one gold piece in one 
 corner, and sundry silver ones in the other, I saw that the 
 eyes of Mr. Peacock twinkled. 
 
 " Poor spirit, sir ! poor spirit, young man ! ' This avarice 
 sticks deep,' as the swan beautifully observes. ' Nothing ven- 
 ture, nothing have.' " 
 
 " Nothing have, nothing venture," I returned, plucking up 
 spirit. 
 
 " Nothing have ! Young sir, do you doubt my solidity 
 my capital my ' golden joys ' ? " 
 
 " Sir, I spoke of myself. I am not rich enough to gamble." 
 
 "Gamble!" exclaimed Mr. Peacock, in virtuous indigna- 
 tion " Gamble, what do you mean, sir ? You insult me ! " 
 and he rose threateningly, and slapped his white hat on his 
 wig. 
 
 " Pshaw ! let him alone, Hal," said the boy contemptuously. 
 " Sir, if he is impertinent, thrash him." (This was to me.) 
 
 " Impertinent ! thrash ! " exclaimed Mr. Peacock, waxing 
 very red ; but catching the sneer on his companion's lip, he 
 sat down, and subsided into sullen silence. 
 
 Meanwhile I paid my bill. This duty, rarely a cheerful 
 one, performed, I looked round for my knapsack, and per- 
 ceived that it was in the boy's hands. He was very coolly 
 reading the address which, in case of accidents, I prudently 
 
 placed on it " Pisistratus Caxton, Esq., - Hotel, 
 
 Street, Strand." 
 
 I took my knapsack from him, more surprised at such a 
 breach of good manners in a young gentleman who knew life 
 so well, than I should have been at a similar error on the part 
 of Mr. Peacock. He made no apology, but nodded farewell, 
 and stretched himself at full length on the bench. Mr. Pea- 
 cock, now absorbed in a game of patience, vouchsafed no 
 return to my parting salutation, and in another moment I was 
 alone on the highroad. My thoughts turned long upon the 
 young man I had left : mixed with a sort of instinctive com- 
 passionate foreboding of an ill future for one with such habits, 
 and in such companionship, I felt an involuntary admiration, 
 less even for his good looks than his ease, audacity, and the 
 careless superiority he assumed over a comrade so much older 
 than himself. 
 
 The day was far gone when I saw the spires of a town at 
 which I intended to rest for the night. The horn of a coach 
 behind made me turn my head, and, as the vehicle passed me, 
 I saw on the outside Mr. Peacock, still struggling with a
 
 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 me and every one else. 
 
 92 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 cigar it could scarcely be the same and his young friend 
 stretched on the roof amongst the luggage, leaning his hand- 
 some head on his hand, and apparently unobservant both of 
 
 mo o r\r\ f*\Tf*r\r r\r\f* f*]cf* 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I AM apt judging egotistically perhaps, from my own 
 experience to measure a young man's chance of what is 
 termed practical success in life, by what may seem at first two 
 very vulgar qualities ; viz., his inquisitiveness and his animal 
 vivacity. A curiosity which springs forward to examine every- 
 thing new to his information ; a nervous activity, approaching 
 to restlessness, which rarely allows bodily fatigue to interfere 
 with some object in view, constitute, in my mind, very profit- 
 able stock in hand to begin the world with. 
 
 Tired as I was, after I had performed my ablutions, and 
 refreshed myself in the little coffee-room of the inn at which 
 I put up, with the pedestrian's best beverage, familiar and oft- 
 calumniated tea, I could not resist the temptation of the broad, 
 bustling street, which, lighted with gas, shone on me through 
 the dim windows of the coffee-room. I had never before seen 
 a large town, and the contrast of lamplit, busy night in the 
 streets, with sober, deserted night in the lanes and fields, 
 struck me forcibly. 
 
 I sauntered out, therefore, jostling and jostled, now gazing 
 at the windows, now hurried along the tide of life, till I found 
 myself before a cook-shop, round which clustered a small knot 
 of housewives, citizens, and hungry-looking children. While 
 contemplating this group, and marvelling how it comes to pass 
 that the staple business of earth's majority is how, when, and 
 where to eat, my ear was struck with "'In Troy there lies the 
 scene,' as the illustrious Will remarks." 
 
 Looking round, I perceived Mr. Peacock pointing his stick 
 towards an open doorway next to the cook-shop, the hall 
 beyond which was lighted with gas, while, painted in black 
 letters on a pane of glass over the door, was the word " Bil- 
 liards." 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, the speaker plunged at once 
 into the aperture and vanished. The boy companion was fol- 
 lowing more slowly, when his eye caught mine. A slight 
 blush came over his dark cheek ; he stopped, and leaning 
 against the door-jambs, gazed on me hard and long before he
 
 THE CAXTONS. 93 
 
 said : "Well met again, sir ! You find it hard to amuse your- 
 self in this dull place ; the nights are long out of London." 
 
 " Oh," said I ingenuously, " everything here amuses me ; 
 the lights, the shops, the crowd ; but, then, to me everything 
 is new." 
 
 The youth came from his lounging-place and moved on, as 
 if inviting me to walk ; while he answered, rather with bitter 
 sullenness, than the melancholy his words expressed : 
 
 " One thing, at least, cannot be new to you ; it is an old 
 truth with us before we leave the nursery : ' Whatever is worth 
 having must be bought ; ergo, he who cannot buy, has nothing 
 worth having.' " 
 
 "I don't think," said I wisely, "that the things best worth 
 having can be bought at all. You see that poor dropsical 
 jeweller standing before his shop-door his shop is the finest 
 in the street, and I dare say he would be very glad to give it to 
 you or me in return for our good health and strong legs. Oh 
 no ! I think with my father : ' All that are worth having are 
 given to all ; that is, nature and labor.' " 
 
 "Your father says that; and you go by what your father 
 says ! Of course, all fathers have preached that, and many 
 other good doctrines, since Adam preached to Cain ; but I 
 don't see that the fathers have found their sons very credulous 
 listeners." 
 
 " So much the worse for the sons," said I bluntly. 
 
 " Nature," continued my new acquaintance, without attend- 
 ing to my ejaculation " nature indeed does give us much, 
 and nature also orders each of us how to use her gifts. If 
 nature give you the propensity to drudge, you will drudge ; if 
 she give me the ambition to rise, and the contempt for work, 
 I may rise, but I certainly shall not work." 
 
 " Oh," said I, "you agree with Squills, I suppose, and fancy 
 we are all guided by the bumps on our foreheads ?" 
 
 "And the blood in our veins, and our mother's milk. We 
 inherit other things besides gout and consumption. So you 
 always do as your father tells you ! Good boy ! " 
 
 I was piqued. Why we should be ashamed of being taunted 
 for goodness, I never could understand ; but certainly I felt 
 humbled. However, I answered sturdily : " If you had as 
 good a father as I have, you would not think it so very extra- 
 ordinary to do as he tells you." 
 
 " Ah ! so he is a very good father, is he ? He must have a 
 great trust in your sobriety and steadiness to let you wander 
 about the world as he does."
 
 94 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 ' I am going to join him in London." 
 
 ' In London ! Oh, does he live there ? " 
 
 ' He is going to live there for some time." 
 
 ' Then, perhaps, we may meet. I, too, am going to town.** 
 
 ' Oh, we shall be sure to meet there ! " said I, with frank 
 gladness ; for my interest in the young man was not diminished 
 by his conversation, however much I disliked the sentiments 
 it expressed. 
 
 The lad laughed, and his laugh was peculiar. It was low, 
 musical, but hollow and artificial. 
 
 " Sure to meet ! London is a large place : where shall you 
 be found ? " 
 
 I gave him, without scruple, the address of the hotel at 
 which I expected to find my father ; although his deliberate 
 inspection of my knapsack must already have apprised him of 
 that address. He listened attentively, and repeated it twice 
 over, as if to impress it on his memory ; and we both walked 
 on in silence, till, turning up a small passage, we suddenly 
 found ourselves in a large churchyard a flagged path 
 stretched diagonally across it towards the market-place, on 
 which it bordered. In this churchyard, upon a gravestone, 
 sat a young Savoyard ; his hurdy-gurdy, or whatever else his 
 instrument might be called, was on his lap ; and he was gnaw- 
 ing his crust, and feeding some poor little white mice (stand- 
 ing on their hind-legs on the hurdy-gurdy) as merrily as if he 
 had chosen the gayest resting-place in the world. 
 
 We both stopped. The Savoyard, seeing us, put his arch 
 head on one side, showed all his white teeth in that happy 
 smile so peculiar to his race, and in which poverty seems to 
 beg so blithely, and gave the handle of his instrument a turn. 
 
 " Poor child ! " said I. 
 
 " Aha, you pity him! but why? According to your rule, 
 Mr. Caxton, he is not so much to be pitied ; the dropsical 
 jeweller would give him as much for his limbs and health as for 
 ours ! How is it answer me, son of so wise a father that no 
 one pities the dropsical jeweller, and all pity the healthy Savoy- 
 ard ? It is, sir, because there is a stern truth which is 
 stronger than all Spartan lessons Poverty is the master-ill of 
 the world. Look round. Does poverty leave its signs over 
 the graves ? Look at that large tomb fenced round; read that 
 long inscription : ' Virtue' ' best of husbands ' ' affectionate 
 father ' ' inconsolable grief ' sleeps in the joyful hope,' etc., 
 etc. Do you suppose these stoneless mounds hide no dust of 
 what were men just as good ? But no epitaph tells their
 
 THE CAXTONS. 95 
 
 virtues ; bespeaks their wives' grief ; or promises joyful hope 
 to them ! " 
 
 " Does it matter ? Does God care for the epitaph and 
 tombstone ?" 
 
 " Datemi qualche cosa ! " said the Savoyard, in his touching 
 patois, still smiling, and holding out his little hand ; therein I 
 dropped a small coin. The boy evinced his gratitude by a 
 new turn of the hurdy-gurdy. 
 
 " That is not labor," said my companion ; " and had you 
 found him at work, you had given him nothing. I too have 
 my instrument to play upon, and my mice to see after. 
 Adieu ! " 
 
 He waved his hand, and strode irreverently over the graves 
 back in the direction we had come. 
 
 I stood before the fine tomb with its fine epitaph ; the Savoy- 
 ard looked at me wistfully. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE Savoyard looked at me wistfully. I wished to enter 
 into conversation with him. That was not easy. However, 
 I began : 
 
 PISISTRATUS. "You must be often hungry enough, my 
 poor boy. Do the mice feed you ? " 
 
 SAVOYARD puts his head one side, shakes it, and strokes his 
 mice. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. " You are very fond of the mice ; they are 
 your only friends, I fear." 
 
 SAVOYARD, evidently understanding Pisistratus, rubs his 
 face gently against the mice, then puts them softly down on a 
 grave, and gives a turn to the hurdy-gurdy. The mice play 
 unconcernedly over the grave. 
 
 PISISTRATUS, pointing first to the beasts, then to the instru- 
 ment. " Which do you like best, the mice or the hurdy- 
 gurdy ?" 
 
 SAVOYARD shows his teeth considers stretches himself on 
 the grass plays with the mice and answers volubly. 
 
 PISISTRATUS, by the help of Latin comprehending that the 
 Savoyard says that the mice are alive, and the hurdy-gurdy is 
 not. " Yes, a live friend is better than a dead one. Mortua 
 est hurda-gurda !" 
 
 SAVOYARD shakes his head vehemently. " No no ! Eccel- 
 letiza, non e morta ! " and strikes up a lively air on the slan-
 
 90 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 dered instrument. The Savoyard's face brightens he looks 
 happy : the mice run from the grave into his bosom. 
 
 PISISTRATUS, affected, and putting the question in Latin. 
 " Have you a father ? " 
 
 SAVOYARD, with his face overcast. " No Eccellenza ! " 
 Then pausing a little, he says briskly, " Si si ! " and plays a 
 solemn air on the hurdy-gurdy stops rests one hand on the 
 instrument, and raises the other to heaven. 
 
 PISISTRATUS understands. The father is like the hurdy- 
 gurdy, at once dead and living. The mere form is a dead 
 thing, but the music lives. Pisistratus drops another small 
 piece of silver on the ground, and turns away. 
 
 God help and God bless thee, Savoyard. Thou hast done 
 Pisistratus all the good in the world. Thou hast corrected the 
 hard wisdom of the young gentleman in the velveteen jacket ; 
 Pisistratus is a better lad for having stopped to listen to thee. 
 
 I regained the entrance to the churchyard I looked back 
 there sat the Savoyard, still amidst men's graves, but under 
 God's sky. He was still looking at me wistfully ; and when he 
 caught my eye, he pressed his hand to his heart, and smiled. 
 God help and God bless thee, young Savoyard ! 
 
 PART FIFTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN setting off the next morning, the Boots, whose heart I 
 had won by an extra sixpence for calling me betimes, good- 
 naturedly informed me that I might save a mile of the journey, 
 and have a very pleasant walk into the bargain, if 1 took the 
 footpath through a gentleman's park, the lodge of which I 
 should see about seven miles from the town. 
 
 "And the grounds are showed too," said the Boots, "if so 
 be you has a mind to stay and see 'em. But don't you go to 
 the gardener, he'll want half-a-crown ; there's an old 'oman at 
 the lodge, who will show you all that's worth seeing the walks 
 and the big cascade for a tizzy. You may make use of my 
 name," he added proudly " Bob, boots at the Lion. She be 
 a //aunt o' mine, and she minds them that come from me per- 
 tiklerly." 
 
 Not doubting that the purest philanthropy actuated these
 
 THE CAXTONS. 97 
 
 counsels, I thanked my shockheaded friend, and asked care- 
 lessly to whom the park belonged. 
 
 " To Muster Trevanion, the great Parliament man," answered 
 the Boots. " You has heard o' him, I guess, sir?" 
 
 I shook my head, surprised every hour, more and more, to 
 find how very little there was in it. 
 
 " They takes in the Moderate Mans Journal at the Lamb ; 
 and they say in the tap there that he's one of the cleverest 
 chaps in the House o' Commons," continued the Boots in a 
 confidential whisper. " But we takes in the People's Thunder- 
 bolt at the Lion, and we knows better this Muster Trevanion : 
 he is but a trimmer milk and water no ^orator not the 
 right sort you understand ? " 
 
 Perfectly satisfied that I understood nothing about it, I 
 smiled, and said, " Oh yes"; and slipping on my knapsack, 
 commenced my adventures ; the Boots bawling after me : 
 " Mind, sir, you tells ^aunt I sent you ! " 
 
 The town was only languidly putting forth symptoms of 
 returning life, as I strode through the streets ; a pale, sickly, 
 unwholesome look on the face of the slothful Phoebus had 
 succeeded the feverish hectic of the past night ; the artisans 
 whom I met glided by me, haggard and dejected ; a few early 
 shops were alone open ; one or two drunken men, emerging 
 from the lanes, sallied homeward with broken pipes in their 
 mouths ; bills with large capitals, calling attention to " Best 
 family teas at 45. a Ib. "; "the arrival of Mr. Sloman's caravan 
 of wild beasts," and Dr. Do'em's " Paracelsian Pills of Immor- 
 tality," stared out dull and uncheering from the walls of tenant- 
 less, dilapidated houses, in that chill sunrise which favors no 
 illusion. I was glad when I had left the town behind me, and 
 saw the reapers in the corn-fields, and heard the chirp of the 
 birds. I arrived at the lodge of which the Boots had spoken ; 
 a pretty, rustic building half-concealed by a belt of plantations, 
 with two large iron gates for the owner's friends, and a small 
 turnstile for the public, who, by some strange neglect on his 
 part, or sad want of interest with the neighboring magistrates, 
 had still preserved a right to cross the rich man's domains, 
 and look on his grandeur, limited to compliance with a reason- 
 able request mildly stated on the notice-board, " to keep to 
 the paths." As it was not yet eight o'clock, I had plenty of 
 time before me to see the grounds, and, profiting by the eco- 
 nomical hint of the Boots, I entered the lodge, and inquired 
 for the old lady who was //aunt to Mr. Bob. A young woman, 
 who \vas busied in preparing breakfast, nodded with preat
 
 gS THE CAXTONS. 
 
 civility to this request, and, hastening to a bundle of clothes 
 which I then perceived in the corner, she cried : " Grand- 
 mother, here's a gentleman to see the cascade." 
 
 The bundle of clothes then turned round, and exhibited a 
 human countenance, which lighted up with great intelligence 
 as the granddaughter, turning to me, said with simplicity : 
 " She's old, honest cretur, but she still likes to earn a sixpence, 
 sir "; and taking a crutch-staff in her hand, while her grand- 
 daughter put a neat bonnet on her head, this industrious gentle- 
 woman sallied out at a pace which surprised me. 
 
 I attempted to enter into conversation with my guide ; but 
 she did not seem much inclined to be sociable, and the beauty 
 of the glades and groves which now spread before my eyes 
 reconciled me to silence. 
 
 I have seen many fine places since then, but I do not remem- 
 ber to have seen a landscape more beautiful in its peculiar 
 English character than that which I now gazed on. It had 
 none of the feudal characteristics of ancient parks, with giant 
 oaks, fantastic pollards, glens covered with fern, and deer 
 grouped upon the slopes ; on the contrary, in spite of some 
 fine trees, chiefly beech, the impression conveyed was that it 
 was a new place a made place. You might see ridges on the 
 lawns which showed where hedges had been removed ; the 
 pastures were parcelled out in divisions by new wire-fences ; 
 young plantations, planned with exquisite taste, but without 
 the venerable formality of avenues and quincunxes, by which 
 you knowthe parks that date from Elizabeth and James, diver- 
 sified the rich extent of verdure ; instead of deer, were short- 
 horned cattle of the finest breed ; sheep that would have won 
 the prize at an agricultural show. Everywhere there was the 
 evidence of improvement, energy, capital ; but capital clearly 
 not employed for the mere purpose of return. The ornamental 
 was too conspicuously predominant amidst the lucrative, not 
 to say eloquently : " The owner is willing to make the most of 
 his land, but not the most of his money." 
 
 But the old woman's eagerness to earn sixpence had impressed 
 me unfavorably as to the character of the master. " Here," 
 thought I, "are all the signs of riches ; and yet this poor old 
 woman, living on the very threshold of opulence, is in want of 
 a sixpence." 
 
 These surmises, in the indulgence of which I piqued myself 
 on my penetration, were strengthened into convictions by the 
 few sentences which I succeeded at last in eliciting from the 
 old woman.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 99 
 
 " Mr. Trevanion must be a rich man," said I. 
 
 " Oh, ay, rich eno' ! " grumbled my guide. 
 
 " And," said I, surveying the extent of shubbery or dressed 
 ground through which our way wound, now emerging into 
 lawns and glades, now belted by rare garden-trees, now (as 
 every inequality of the ground was turned to advantage in the 
 landscape) sinking into the dell, now climbing up the slopes, 
 and now confining the view to some object of graceful art or 
 enchanting nature ; " And," said I, " he must employ many 
 hands here plenty of work, eh ! " 
 
 " Ay, ay I don't say that he don't find work for those who 
 want it. But it aint the same place it wor in my day." 
 
 " You remember it in other hands, then ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay ! When the Hogtoris had it, honest folk ! My 
 good man was the gardener none of those set-up fine gentle- 
 men who can't put hand to a spade." 
 
 Poor, faithful old woman ! 
 
 I began to hate the unknown proprietor. Here clearly was 
 some mushroom usurper who had bought out the old, simple, 
 hospitable family, neglected its ancient servants, left them to 
 earn tizzies by showing waterfalls, and insulted their eyes by 
 his selfish wealth. 
 
 " There's the water all sp/Tt it warn't so in my day," said 
 the guide. 
 
 A rivulet, whose murmur I had long heard, now stole sud- 
 denly into view, and gave to the scene the crowning charm. 
 As, relapsing into silence, we tracked its sylvan course, under 
 dipping chestnuts and shady limes, the house itself emerged 
 on the opposite side a modern building of white stone, with 
 the noblest Corinthian portico I ever saw in this country. 
 
 " A fine house, indeed," said I. " Is Mr. Trevanion here 
 much ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay I don't mean to say that he goes away altogether, 
 but it aint as it wor in my day, when the Hogtons lived here 
 all the year round in their warm house, not that one." 
 
 Good old woman, and these poor, banished Hogtons ! 
 thought I : hateful parvenu ! I was pleased when a curve in 
 the shubberies shut out the house from view, though in reality 
 bringing us nearer to it. And the boasted cascade, whose 
 roar I had heard for some moments, came in sight. 
 
 Amidst the Alps, such a waterfall would have been insig- 
 nificant, but contrasting ground highly dressed, with no other 
 bold features, its effect as striking, and even grand. The 
 banks were here narrowed and compressed ; rocks, partly
 
 100 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 natural, partly no doubt artificial, gave a rough aspect to the 
 margin ; and the cascade fell from a considerable height into 
 rapid waters, which my guide mumbled out were " mortal deep." 
 
 " There wor a madman leapt over where you be standing," 
 said the old woman, " two years ago last June." 
 
 "A madman! Why," said I, observing, with an eye 
 practised in the gymnasium of the Hellenic Institute, the narrow 
 space of the banks over the gulf ; " Why, my good lady, it need 
 not be a madman to perform that leap." 
 
 And so saying, with one of those sudden impulses which it 
 would be wrong to ascribe to the noble quality of courage, I 
 drew back a few steps, and cleared the abyss. But when, from 
 the other side, I looked back at what I had done, and saw that 
 failure had been death, a sickness came over me, and I felt as 
 if I would not have re-leapt the gulf to become lord of the 
 domain. 
 
 " And how am I to get back ? " said I in a forlorn voice, to 
 the old woman, who stood staring at me on the other side. 
 " Ah ! I see there is a bridge below." 
 
 " But you can't go over the bridge ; there's a gate on it ; 
 master keeps the key himself. You are in the private grounds 
 now. Dear dear ! the squire would be so angry if he knew. 
 You must go back ; and they'll see you from the house ! 
 Dear me ! dear dear ! What shall I do ? Can't you leap 
 back again ? " 
 
 Moved by these piteous exclamations, and not wishing to 
 subject the poor old lady to the wrath of a master, evidently an 
 unfeeling tyrant, I resolved to pluck up courage and re-leap 
 the dangerous abyss. 
 
 " Oh yes never fear," said I, therefore. " What's been 
 done once ought to be done twice, if needful. Just get out of 
 my way, will you ? " 
 
 And I receded several paces over a ground much too rough 
 to favor my run for a spring. But my heart knocked against 
 my ribs. I felt that impulse can do wonders where preparation 
 fails. 
 
 " You had best be quick, then," said the old woman. 
 
 Horrid old woman ! I began to esteem her less. I set my 
 teeth, and was about to rush on, when a voice close beside me 
 said : 
 
 " Stay, young man ; I will let you through the gate." 
 
 I turned round sharply, and saw close by my side, in great 
 wonder that I had not seen him before, a man, whose homely 
 (but not working) dress seemed to intimate his station as that;
 
 THE CAXTONS. IOI 
 
 of the head gardener, of whom my guide had spoken. He 
 was seated on a stone under a chestnut-tree, with an ugly cur 
 at his feet, who snarled at me as I turned. 
 
 "Thank you, my man," said I joyfully. " I confess frankly 
 that I was very much afraid of that leap." 
 
 " Ho ! Yet you said, what can be done once can be done 
 twice." 
 
 " I did not say it could\>& done, but ought to be done." 
 
 " Humph ! That's better put." 
 
 Here the man rose the dog came and smelt my legs ; and 
 then, as if satisfied with my respectability, wagged the stump 
 of his tail. 
 
 I looked across the waterfall for the old woman, and to my 
 surprise, saw her hobbling back as fast as she could. 
 
 " Ah ! " said I, laughing, " the poor old thing is afraid you'll 
 tell tell her master for you're the head gardener, I suppose ? 
 But I am the only person to blame. Pray say that, if you 
 mention the circumstance at all ! " and I drew out half-a-crown, 
 which I proffered to my new conductor. 
 
 He put back the money with a low " Humph not amiss." 
 Then, in a louder voice : " No occasion to bribe me, young 
 man ; I saw it all." 
 
 " I fear your master is rather hard to the poor Hogtons' old 
 servants. 
 
 " Is he ? Oh ! humph my master. Mr. Trevanion you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, I dare say people say so. This is the way." And he 
 led me down a little glen away from the fall. 
 
 Everybody must have observed, that after he has incurred 
 or escaped a great danger, his spirits rise wonderfully, he is 
 in a state of pleasing excitement. So it was with me. I 
 talked to the gardener a cxur ouvert, as the French say : and 
 I did not observe that his short monosyllables in rejoinder all 
 served to draw out my little history my journey,- its destina- 
 tion ; my schooling under Dr. Herman, and my father's Great 
 Book. I was only made somewhat suddenly aware of the 
 familiarity that had sprung up between us, when, just as, 
 having performed a circuitous meander, we regained the 
 stream and stood before an iron gate, set in an arch of rock- 
 work, my companion said simply : " And your name, young 
 gentleman ? What's your name ? " 
 
 I hesitated a moment ; but having heard that such com- 
 munications were usually made by the visitors of show places,
 
 102 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 I answered : " Oh ! a very venerable one, if your master is 
 what they call a bibliomaniac Caxton." 
 
 " Caxton I " cried the gardener with some vivacity. " There 
 is a Cumberland family of that name " 
 
 " That's mine ; and my Uncle Roland is the head of that 
 family." 
 
 "And you are the son of Augustine Caxton ? " 
 . " I am. You have heard of my dear father, then ? " 
 
 " We will not pass by the gate now. Follow me this way "; 
 and my guide, turning abruptly round, strode up a narrow 
 path, and the house stood a hundred yards before me ere I 
 recovered my surprise. 
 
 " Pardon me," said I, " but where are we going, my good 
 friend ? " 
 
 " Good friend good friend ! Well said, sir. You are 
 going amongst good friends. I was at college with your father. 
 I loved him well. I knew a little of your uncle too. My 
 name is Trevanion." 
 
 Blind young fool that I was ! The moment my guide told 
 his name, I was struck with amazement at my unaccountable 
 mistake. The small, insignificant figure took instant dignity ; 
 the homely dress, of rough, dark broadcloth, was the natural 
 and becoming deshabille of a country gentleman in his own 
 demennen. Even the ugly cur became a Scotch terrier of the 
 rarest breed. 
 
 My guide smiled good-naturedly at my stupor ; and patting 
 me on the shoulder, said : 
 
 " It is the gardener you must apologize to, not me. He is a 
 very handsome fellow, six feet high." 
 
 I had not found my tongue before we had ascended abroad 
 flight of stairs under the portico ; passed a spacious hall, 
 adorned with statues and fragrant with large orange-trees ; 
 and, entering a small room, hung with pictures, in which were 
 arranged all the appliances for breakfast, my companion said 
 to a lady, who rose from behind the tea-urn : "My dear Elli- 
 nor, I introduce to you the son of our old friend Augustine 
 Caxton. Make him stay with us as long as he can. Young 
 gentleman, in Lady Ellinor Trevanion think that you see one 
 whom you ought to know well family friendships should 
 descend." 
 
 My host said these last words in an imposing tone, and then 
 pounced on a letter-bag on the table, drew forth an immense 
 heap of letters and newspapers, threw himself into an arm-chair, 
 and seemed perfectly forgetful of my existence.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 103 
 
 The lady stood a moment in mute surprise, and I saw that 
 she changed color from pale to red, and red to pale, before 
 she came forward with the enchanting grace of unaffected 
 kindness, took me by the hand, drew me to a seat next to her 
 own, and asked so cordially after my father, my uncle, my 
 whole family, that in five minutes I felt myself at home. 
 Lady Ellinor listened with a smile (though with moistened 
 eyes, which she wiped every now and then) to my artless de- 
 tails. At length she said : 
 
 " Have you never heard your father speak of me I mean of 
 us of the Trevanions ?" 
 
 " Never," said I bluntly ; " and that would puzzle me, only 
 my dear father, you know, is not a great talker." 
 
 " Indeed ! He was very animated when I knew him," said 
 Lady Ellinor, and she turned her head and sighed. 
 
 At this moment there entered a young lady, so fresh, so 
 blooming, so lovely, that every other thought vanished out of 
 my head at once. She came in singing, as gay as a bird, and 
 seeming to my adoring sight quite as native to the skies. 
 
 " Fanny," said Lady Ellinor, " shake hands with Mr. Cax^ 
 ton, the son of one whom I have not seen since I was HttU 
 older than you, but whom I remember as if it were but yester- 
 day." 
 
 Miss Fanny blushed and smiled, and held out her hand with 
 an easy frankness which I in vain endeavored to imitate. 
 During breakfast, Mr. Trevanion continued to read his letters 
 and glance over the papers, with an occasional ejaculation of 
 "Pish!" "Stuff!" between the intervals in which he 
 mechanically swallowed his tea, or some small morsels of dry 
 toast. Then rising with the suddenness which characterized 
 his movements, he stood on his hearth for a few moments 
 buried in thought ; and now that a large-brimmed hat was 
 removed from his brow, and the abruptness of his first move- 
 ment, with the sedateness of his after pause, arrested my curi- 
 ous attention, I was more than ever ashamed of my mistake. 
 It was a careworn, eager, and yet musing countenance, hollow- 
 eyed, and with deep lines ; but it was one of those faces which 
 take dignity and refinement from that mental cultivation which 
 distinguishes the true aristocrat, viz., the highly educated, 
 acutely intelligent man. Very handsome might that face have 
 been in youth, for the features, though small, were exquisitely 
 defined ; the brow, partially bald, was noble and massive, and 
 there was almost feminine delicacy in the curve of the lip. 
 The whole expression of the face was commanding, but sad.
 
 104 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Often, as my experience of life increased, have I thought to 
 trace upon that expressive visage the history of energetic 
 ambition curbed by a fastidious philosophy and a scrupulous con- 
 science ; but then all that I could see was a vague, dissatisfied 
 melancholy, which dejected me I knew not why. 
 
 Presently Trevanion returned to the table, collected his let- 
 ters, moved slowly towards the door, and vanished. 
 
 His wife's eyes followed him tenderly. Those eyes reminded 
 me of my mother's, as, I verily believe, did all eyes that 
 expressed affection. I crept nearer to her, and longed to press 
 the white hand that lay so listless before me. 
 
 " Will you walk out with us ? " said Miss Trevanion, turning 
 to me. I bowed, and in a few minutes I found myself alone. 
 While the ladies left me, for their shawls and bonnets, I took 
 up the newspapers which Mr. Trevanion had thrown on the 
 table, by way of something to do. My eye was caught by his 
 own name ; it occurred often, and in all the papers. There 
 was contemptuous abuse in one, high eulogy in another ; but 
 one passage, in a journal that seemed to aim at impartiality, 
 struck me so much as to remain in my memory ; and I am 
 sure that I can still quote the sense, though not the exact 
 words. The paragraph ran somewhat thus : 
 
 " In the present state of parties, our contemporaries have, 
 not unnaturally, devoted much space to the claims or demerits 
 of Mr. Trevanion. It is a name that stands unquestionably 
 high in the House of Commons ; but, as unquestionably, it 
 commands little sympathy in the country. Mr. Trevanion is 
 essentially and emphatically a member of Parliament. He is a 
 close and ready debater ; he is an admirable chairman in com- 
 mittees. Though never in office, his long experience of pub- 
 lic life, his gratuitous attention to public business, have ranked 
 him high among those practical politicians from whom minis- 
 ters are selected. A man of spotless character and excellent 
 intentions, no doubt, he must be considered ; and in him any 
 cabinet would gain an honest and a useful member. There 
 ends all we can say in his praise. As a speaker, he wants the 
 fire and enthusiasm which engage the popular sympathies. 
 He has the ear of the House, not the heart of the country. An 
 oracle on subjects of mere business, in the great questions of 
 policy he is comparatively a failure. He never embraces any 
 party heartily ; he never espouses any question as if wholly in 
 earnest. The moderation on which he is said to pique himself, 
 often exhibits itself in fastidious crotchets, and an attempt at 
 philosophical originality of candor, which has long obtained
 
 THE CAXTONS. 105 
 
 him, with his enemies, the reputation of a trimmer. Such a 
 man circumstances may throw into temporary power ; but can 
 he command lasting influence ? No : let Mr. Trevanion 
 remain in what nature and position assign as his proper post, 
 that of an upright, independent, able member of Parliament ; 
 conciliating sensible men on both sides, when party runs 
 into extremes. He is undone as a cabinet minister. His 
 scruples would break up any government ; and his want of 
 decision, when, as in all human affairs, some errors must 
 be conceded to obtain a great good, would shipwreck his own 
 fame." 
 
 I had just got to the end of this paragraph, when the ladies 
 returned. 
 
 My hostess observed the newspaper in my hand, and said, 
 with a constrained smile, " Some attack on Mr. Trevanion, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " No," said I awkwardly ; for, perhaps, the paragraph that 
 appeared to me so impartial was the most galling attack of all. 
 " No, not exactly." 
 
 " I never read the papers now, at least what are called the 
 leading articles it is too painful : and once they gave me so 
 much pleasure that was when the career began, and before 
 the fame was made." 
 
 Here Lady Ellinor opened the window which admitted on 
 the lawn, and in a few moments we were in that part of the 
 pleasure-grounds which the family reserved from the public 
 curiosity. We passed by rare shrubs and strange flowers, long 
 ranges of conservatories, in which bloomed and lived all the 
 marvellous vegetation of Africa and the Indies. 
 
 " Mr. Trevanion is fond of flowers ?" said I. 
 
 The fair Fanny laughed. " I don't think he knows one from 
 another." 
 
 " Nor I either," said I : " that is, when I fairly lose sight of 
 a rose or a hollyhock." 
 
 " The farm will interest you more," said Lady Ellinor. 
 
 We came to farm buildings recently erected, and no doubt 
 on the most improved principle. Lady Ellinor pointed out to 
 me machines and contrivances of the newest fashion, for 
 abridging labor, and perfecting the mechanical operations of 
 agriculture. 
 
 " Ah, then, Mr. Trevanion is fond of farming." 
 
 The pretty Fanny laughed again. 
 
 " My father is one of the great oracles in agriculture, one 
 of the great patrons of all its improvements ; but, as for being
 
 106 THE CAX7ONS. 
 
 fond of farming, I doubt if he knows his own fields when he 
 rides through them." 
 
 We returned to the house ; and Miss Trevanion, whose 
 frank kindness had already made too deep an impression upon 
 the youthful heart of Pisistratus the Second, offered to show 
 me the picture-gallery. The collection was confined to the 
 works of English artists ; and Miss Trevanion pointed out to 
 me the main attractions of the gallery. 
 
 " Well, at least Mr. Trevanion is fond of pictures ! " 
 
 " Wrong again," said Fanny, shaking her arch head. " My 
 father is sair1 to be an admirable judge ; but he only buys pic- 
 tures from a sense of duty to encourage our own painters. 
 A picture once bought, I am not sure that he ever looks at it 
 again ! " 
 
 "What does he then " I stopped short, for I felt my medi- 
 tated question was ill-bred. 
 
 " What does he like then ? you were about to say. Why, I 
 have known him, of course, since I could know anything ; but 
 I have never yet discovered what my father does like. No 
 not even politics, though he lives for politics alone. You look 
 puzzled ; you will know him better some day, 1 hope ; but you 
 will never solve the mystery what Mr. Trevanion likes." 
 
 " You are wrong," said Lady Ellinor, who had followed us 
 into the room, unheard by us. " I can tell you what your father 
 does more than like what he loves and serves every hour of 
 his noble life justice, beneficence, honor, and his country. 
 A man who loves these may be excused for indifference to the 
 last geranium or the newest plough, or even (though that 
 offend you more, Fanny) the freshest masterpiece by Land- 
 seer, or the latest fashion honored by Miss Trevanion." 
 
 " Mamma !" said Fanny, and the tears sprang to her eyes. 
 
 But Lady Ellinor looked to me sublime as she spoke, her 
 eyes kindled, her breast heaved. The wife taking the hus- 
 band's part against the child, and comprehending so well what 
 the child felt not, despite its experience of every day, and 
 what the world would never know, despite all the vigilance of 
 its praise and its blame, was a picture, to my taste, finer than 
 any in the collection. 
 
 Her face softened as she saw the tears in Fanny's bright 
 hazel eyes ; she held out her hand, which her child kissed ten- 
 derly : and whispering, " 'Tis not the giddy word you must go 
 by, mamma, or there will be something to forgive every min- 
 ute," Miss Trevanion glided from the room. 
 
 " Have you a sister ? " asked Lady Ellinor.
 
 THE CAXTONS 107 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And Trevanion has no son," she said mournfully. The 
 blood rushed to my cheeks. Oh, young fool, again ! We 
 were both silent, when the door was opened, and Mr. Trevan- 
 ion entered. 
 
 " Humph," said he, smiling as he saw me, and his smile was 
 charming though rare. " Humph, young sir, I came to seek 
 for you ; I have been rude, I fear : pardon it that thought 
 had only just occurred to me, so I left my Blue Books, and 
 my amanuensis hard at work on them, to ask you to come 
 out for half an hour just half an hour, it is all I can 
 give you a deputation at one! You dine and sleep here, 
 of course ? " 
 
 " Ah, sir ! my mother will be so uneasy if I am not in town 
 to-night." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said the member, " I'll send an express." 
 
 " Oh, no indeed ; thank you." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 I hesitated. " You see, sir, that my father and mother are 
 both new to London : and though I am new too, yet they may 
 want me I may be of use." Lady Ellinor put her hand on 
 my head, and sleeked down my hair as I spoke. 
 
 " Right, young man, right ; you will do in the world, wrong 
 as that is. I don't mean that you'll succeed, as the rogues say, 
 that's another question ; but, if you don't rise, you'll not fall. 
 Now, put on your hat and come with me ; we'll walk to the 
 lodge you will be in time for a coach." 
 
 I took my leave of Lady Ellinor, and longed to say some- 
 thing about ' compliments to Miss Fanny, ' but the words stuck 
 in my throat, and my host seemed impatient. 
 
 " We must see you soon again ! " said Lady Ellinor kindly, 
 as she followed us to the door. 
 
 Mr. Trevanion walked on briskly and in silence one hand 
 in his bosom, the other swinging carelessly a thick walking- 
 stick. 
 
 " But I must go round by the bridge," said I, " for I forgot 
 my knapsack. I threw it off when I made my leap, and the 
 old lady certainly never took charge of it." 
 
 " Come, then, this way. How old are you ? " 
 
 " Seventeen and a half." 
 
 " You know Latin and Greek as they know them at schools, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 " I think I know them pretty well, sir." 
 
 " Does your father say so ? "
 
 I08 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Why, my father is fastidious ; however, he owns that he is 
 satisfied on the whole." 
 
 " So am I, then. Mathematics ? " 
 
 " A little." 
 
 "Good." 
 
 Here the conversation dropped for some time. I had found 
 and restrapped the knapsack, and we were near the lodge, 
 when Mr. Trevanion said abruptly : " Talk, my young friend, 
 talk : I like to hear you talk it refreshes me. Nobody has 
 talked naturally to me these last ten years." 
 
 The request was a complete damper to my ingenuous elo- 
 quence : I could not have talked naturally now for the life 
 of me. 
 
 " I made a mistake, I see," said my companion good- 
 humoredly, noticing my embarrassment. " Here we are at the 
 lodge. The coach will be by in five minutes : you can spend 
 that time in hearing the old woman praise the Hogtons and 
 abuse me. And hark you, sir, never care three straws for 
 praise or blame leather and prunella ! praise and blame are 
 here ! " and he struck his hand upon his breast, with almost 
 passionate emphasis. " Take a specimen. These Hogtons 
 were the bane of the place ; uneducated and miserly ; their 
 land a wilderness, their village a pig-sty. I come, with capital 
 and intelligence ; I redeem the soil, I banish pauperism, I 
 civilize all around me ; no merit in me I am but a type of 
 capital guided by education a machine. And yet the old 
 woman is not the only one who will hint to you that the Hog- 
 tons were angels, and myself the usual antithesis to angels. 
 And, what is more, sir, because that old woman, who has ten 
 shillings a week from me, sets her heart upon earning her six- 
 pences and I give her that privileged luxury every visitor 
 she talks to goes away with the idea that I, the rich Mr. Tre- 
 vanion, lei her starve on what she can pick up from the sight- 
 seers. Now, does that signify a jot? Good-by. Tell your 
 father his old friend must see him ; profit by his calm wisdom; 
 his old friend is a fool sometimes, and sad at heart. When 
 you are settled, send me a line to St. James's Square, to say 
 where you are. Humph ! that's enough." 
 
 Mr. Trevanion wrung my hand and strode off. 
 
 I did not wait for the coach, but proceeded towards the turn- 
 stile, where the old woman (who had either seen, or scented from 
 <a distance, that tizzy of which I was the impersonation) 
 " Hushed in grim repose, did wait her morning prey." 
 
 Mv opinion as to her sufferings, and the virtues of the
 
 THE CAXTONS. lOQ 
 
 departed Hogtons, somewhat modified, I contented myself 
 with dropping into her open palm the exact sum virtually 
 agreed on. But that palm still remained open, and the fingers 
 of the other clawed hold of me as I stood, impounded in the 
 curve of the turnstile, like a cork in a patent cork-screw. 
 
 " And threepence for Nephy Bob," said the old lady. 
 
 "Threepence for Nephew Bob, and why?" 
 
 " 'Tis his parquisites when he recommends a gentleman. 
 You would not have me pay out of my own earnings : for he 
 '/'// have it or he'll ruin my bizziness. Poor folk must be paid 
 for their trouble." 
 
 Obdurate to this appeal, and mentally consigning Bob to a 
 master whose feet would be all the handsomer for boots, I 
 threaded the stile and escaped. 
 
 Towards evening I reached London. Who ever saw London 
 for the first time and was not disappointed ? Those long 
 suburbs melting indefinably away into the capital, forbid all 
 surprise. The gradual is a great disenchanter. I thought it 
 prudent to take a hackney-coach, and so jolted my way to 
 
 the hotel, the door of which was in a small street out of 
 
 the Strand, though the greater part of the building faced that 
 noisy thoroughfare. I found my father in a state of great 
 discomfort in a little room, which he paced up and down like 
 a lion new caught in his cage. My poor mother was full of 
 complaints for the first time in her life, I found her indisput- 
 ably crossish. It was an ill time to relate my adventures. I 
 had enough to do to listen. They had all day been hunting 
 for lodgings in vain. My father's pocket had been picked of 
 a new India handkerchief. Primmins, who ought to know 
 London so well, knew nothing about it, and declared it was 
 turned topsy-turvy, and all the streets had changed names. 
 The new silk umbrella, left for five minutes unguarded in the 
 hall, had been exchanged for an old gingham with three holes 
 in it. 
 
 It was not till my mother remembered, that if she did not 
 see herself that my bed was well aired, I should certainly lose 
 the use of my limbs, and therefore disappeared with Primmins 
 and a pert chambermaid, who seemed to think we gave more 
 trouble than we were worth that I told my father of my new 
 acquaintance with Mr. Trevanion. 
 
 He did not seem to listen to me till I got to the name 
 Trevanion. He then became very pale, and sat down quietly. 
 " Go on," said he, observing I stopped to look at him. 
 
 When I had told all, and given him the kind messages with
 
 IIO THE CAXTONS. 
 
 which I had been charged by husband and wife, he smiled 
 faintly : and then, shading his face with his hand, he seemed 
 to muse, not cheerfully, perhaps, for I heard him sigh once or 
 twice. 
 
 " And Ellinor," said he at last, without looking up. " Lady 
 Ellinor, I mean she is very, very 
 
 " Very what, sir?" 
 
 " Very handsome still ? " 
 
 " Handsome ! Yes, handsome, certainly ; but I thought 
 more of her manner than her face. And then Fanny, Miss 
 Fanny is so young ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " said my father, murmuring in Greek the celebrated 
 lines of which Pope's translation is familiar to all : 
 
 " Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, 
 Now green in youth, now withering on the ground." 
 
 " Well, so they wish to see me. Did Ellinor, Lady Ellinor, 
 say that, or her her husband ? " 
 
 11 Her husband certainly Lady Ellinor rather implied than 
 said it." 
 
 " We shall see," said my father. " Open the window, this 
 room is stifling." 
 
 I opened the window which looked on the Strand. The 
 noise, the voices, the trampling feet, the rolling wheels be- 
 came loudly audible. My father leant out for some moments, 
 and I stood by his side. He turned to me with a serene face. 
 " Every ant on the hill," said he, " carries its load, and its 
 home is but made by the burden that it bears. How happy 
 am I ! How I should bless God ! How light my burden ! 
 How secure my home ! " 
 
 My mother came in as he ceased. He went up to her, put 
 his arm round her waist, and kissed her. Such caresses with 
 him had not lost their tender charm by custom : my mother's 
 brow, before somewhat ruffled, grew smooth on the instant. 
 Yet she lifted her eyes to his in soft surprise. " I was but 
 thinking," said my father apologetically, " how much I owed 
 you, and how much I love you ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AND now behold us, three days after my arrival, settled in 
 all the state and grandeur of our own house in Russell Street, 
 Bloomsbury : the library of the Museum close at hand. My
 
 THE CAXTONS. in 
 
 father spends his mornings in those lata silentia, as Virgil calls 
 the world beyond the grave. And a world beyond the grave 
 we may well call that land of the ghosts, a book collection. 
 
 " Pisistratus," said my father, one evening as he arranged 
 his notes before him, and rubbed his spectacles. " Pisistratus, 
 a great library is an awful place ! There are interred all the 
 remains of men since the Flood." 
 
 " It is a burial-place ! " quoth my Uncle Roland, who had 
 that day found us out. 
 
 "It is an Heraclea ! " said my father. 
 
 " Please, not such hard words," said the captain, shaking his 
 head. 
 
 " Heraclea was the city of necromancers, in which they 
 raised the dead. Do I want to speak to Cicero ? I invoke 
 him. Do I want to chat in the Athenian market-place, and 
 hear news two thousand years old ? I write down my charm 
 on a slip of paper, and a grave magician calls me up Aristoph- 
 anes. And we owe all this to our ancest " 
 
 " Brother ! " 
 
 "Ancestors, who wrote books thank you." 
 
 Here Roland offered his snuff-box to my father, who, ab- 
 horring snuff, benignly imbibed a pinch, and sneezed five times 
 in consequence : an excuse for Uncle Roland to say, which he 
 did five times, with great unction : " God bless you, Brother 
 Austin ! " 
 
 As soon as my father had recovered himself, he proceeded, 
 with tears in his eyes, but calm as before the interruption, for 
 he was of the philosophy of the Stoics : 
 
 " But it is not that which is awful. It is the presuming to 
 vie with these ' spirits elect ' : to say to them, ' Make way, I 
 too claim place with the chosen I too would confer with the 
 living, centuries after the death that consumes my dust I 
 too' Ah, Pisistratus ! I wish Uncle Jack had been at Jericho 
 before he had brought me up to London, and placed me in the 
 midst of those rulers of the world ! " 
 
 I was busy, while my father spoke, in making some pendent 
 shelves for these "spirits elect"; for my mother, always 
 provident where my father's comforts were concerned, had 
 foreseen the necessity of some such accommodation in a hired 
 lodging-house, and had not only carefully brought up to town 
 my little box of tools, but gone out herself that morning to buy 
 the raw materials. Checking the plane in its progress over 
 the smooth deal : " My dear father," said I, " if at the Phil- 
 hellenic Institute I had looked with as much awe as you do on
 
 112 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 the big fellows that had gone before me, I should have stayed, 
 to all eternity, the lag of the Infant Division " 
 
 " Pisistratus, you are as great an agitator as your namesake," 
 cried my father, smiling. " And so, a fig for the big fellows ! " 
 
 And now my mother entered in her pretty evening cap, all 
 smiles and good humor, having just arranged a room for Uncle 
 Roland, concluded advantageous negotiations with the laun- 
 dress, held high council with Mrs. Primmins on the best mode 
 of defeating the extortions of London tradesmen ; and, pleased 
 with herself and all the world, she kissed my father's forehead 
 as it bent over his notes ; and came to the tea-table, which 
 only waited its presiding deity. My Uncle Roland, with his 
 usual gallantry, started up, kettle in hand (our own urn for 
 we had one not being yet unpacked), and having performed, 
 with soldier-like method, the chivalrous office thus volunteered, 
 he joined me at my employment, and said : 
 
 " There is a better steel for the hands of a well-born lad than 
 a carpenter's plane " 
 
 " Aha ! uncle that depends " 
 
 " Depends ! What on ? " 
 
 " On the use one makes of it. Peter the Great was better 
 employed in making ships than Charles XII. in cutting throats." 
 
 " Poor Charles XII. ! " said my uncle, sighing pathetically 
 " a very brave fellow ! " 
 
 " Pity he did not like the ladies a little better ! " 
 
 " No man is perfect ! " said my uncle sententiously. " But, 
 seriously, you are now the male hope of the family ; you are 
 now " my uncle stopped and his face darkened. I saw that 
 he thought of his son that mysterious son ! And, looking at 
 him tenderly, I observed that his deep lines had grown deeper, 
 his iron-gray hair more gray. There was the trace of recent 
 suffering on his face ; and though he had not spoken to us a 
 word of the business on which he had left us, it required no 
 penetration to perceive that it had come to no successful 
 issue. 
 
 My uncle resumed : " Time out of mind, every generation 
 of our house has given one soldier to his country. 1 look 
 round now : only one branch is budding yet on the old tree ; 
 and " 
 
 " Ah ! " uncle. But what would they say? Do you think I 
 should not like to be a soldier ? Don't tempt me ! " 
 
 My uncle had recourse to his snuff-box : and at that moment, 
 unfortunately, perhaps, for the laurels that might otherwise 
 have wreathed the brows of Pisistratus of England, private
 
 THE CAXTONS. 1 13 
 
 conversation was stopped by the sudden and noisy entrance 
 of Uncle Jack. No apparition could have been more unex- 
 pected. 
 
 " Here I am, my dear friends. How d'ye do how are you 
 all ? Captain de Caxton, yours heartily. Yes, I am released, 
 thank Heaven ! I have given up the drudgery of that pitiful 
 provincial paper. I was not made for it. An ocean in a tea- 
 cup ! I was indeed little, sordid, narrow interests and I, 
 whose heart embraces all humanity. You might as well turn 
 a circle into an isolated triangle." 
 
 " Isosceles ! " said my father, sighing as he pushed aside his 
 notes, and very slowly becoming aware of the eloquence that 
 destroyed all chance of further progress that night in the Great 
 Book. " Isosceles triangle, Jack Tibbets not isolated." 
 
 " Isosceles or isolated, it is all one," said Uncle Jack, as he 
 rapidly performed three evolutions, by no means consistent 
 with his favorite theory of " the greatest happiness of the 
 greatest number ": first, he emptied into the cup, which he took 
 from my mother's hands, half the thrifty contents of a London 
 cream-jug ; secondly, he reduced the circle of a muffin, by the 
 abstraction of three triangles, to as nearly an isosceles as pos- 
 sible ; and thirdly, striding towards the fire, lighted in consid- 
 eration of Captain de Caxton, and hooking his coat-tails under 
 his arms, while he sipped his tea, he permitted another circle 
 peculiar to humanity wholly to eclipse the luminary it ap- 
 proached. 
 
 " Isolated or isosceles, it is all the same thing. Man is made 
 for his fellow-creatures. I had long been disgusted with the 
 interference of those selfish Squirearchs. Your departure 
 decided me. I have concluded negotiations with a London 
 firm of spirit and capital, and extended views of philanthropy. 
 On Saturday last I retired from the service of the oligarchy. 
 I am now in my true capacity of protector of the million. My 
 prospectus is printed here it is in my pocket. Another cup 
 of tea, sister, a little more cream, and another muffin. Shall I 
 ring ? " Having disembarrassed himself of his cup and saucer, 
 Uncle Jack then drew forth from his pocket a damp sheet of 
 printed paper. In large capitals stood out " THE ANTI-MO- 
 NOPOLY GAZETTE, or POPULAR CHAMPION." He waved it tri- 
 umphantly before my father's eyes. 
 
 " Pisistratus," said my father, " look here. This is the way 
 your Uncle Jack now prints his pats of butter. A cap of lib- 
 erty growing out of an open book ! Good ! Jack good ! 
 good ! "
 
 CAXTONS. 
 
 " It is Jacobinical ! " exclaimed the Captain. 
 
 " Very likely," said my father ; " but knowledge and freedom 
 are the best devices in the world, to print upon pats of butter 
 intended for the market." 
 
 " Pats of butter ! I don't understand," said Uncle Jack. 
 
 " The less you understand, the better will the butter sell, 
 Jack," said my father, settling back to his notes. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 UNCLE JACK, had made up his mind to lodge with us, and 
 my mother found some difficulty in inducing him to compre- 
 hend that there was no bed to spare. 
 
 u That's unlucky," said he. " I had no sooner arrived in 
 town than I was pestered with invitations ; but I refused them 
 all, and kept myself for you." 
 
 " So kind in you ! So like you ! " said my mother ; " but 
 you see " 
 
 "Well, then, I must be off and find a room. Don't fret, you 
 know I can breakfast and dine with you, all the same ; that 
 is, when my other friends will let me. I shall be dreadfully 
 persecuted." So saying, Uncle Jack re-pocketed his pro- 
 spectus, and wished us good-night. 
 
 The clock had struck eleven ; my mother had retired ; when 
 my father looked up from his books, and returned his spec- 
 tacles to their case. I had finished my work, and was seated 
 over the fire, thinking now of Fanny Trevanion's hazel eyes, 
 now, with a heart that beat as high at the thought, of cam- 
 paigns, battle-fields, laurels, and glory ; while, with his arms 
 folded on his breast and his head drooping, Uncle Roland 
 gazed into the low, clear embers. My father cast his eyes 
 round the room, and, after surveying his brother for some 
 moments, he said, almost in a whisper : 
 
 " My son has seen the Trevanions. They remember us, 
 Roland." 
 
 The Captain sprang to his feet, and began whistling ; a habit 
 with him when he was much disturbed. 
 
 "And Trevanion wishes to see us. Pisistratus promised to 
 give him our address; shall he do so, Roland?" 
 
 "If you like it," answered the Captain, in a military attitude, 
 and drawing himself up till he looked seven feet high. 
 
 " I should like it," said my father mildly. " Twenty years 
 since we met."
 
 THE CAXTONS. 115 
 
 " More than twenty," said my uncle, with a stern smile ; 
 " and the season was -the fall of the leaf ! " 
 
 " Man renews the fibre and material of his body every seven 
 years," said my father ; " in three times seven years he has 
 time to renew the inner man. Can two passengers in yonder 
 street be more unlike each other than the soul is to the soul 
 after an interval of twenty years ? Brother, the plough does 
 not pass over the soil in vain, nor care over the human heart. 
 New crops change the character of the land ; and the plough 
 must go deep indeed before it stirs up the mother-stone." 
 
 " Let us see Trevanion," cried my uncle : then, turning to 
 me, he said abruptly, " What family has he ?" 
 
 "One daughter." 
 
 " No son?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " That must vex the poor, foolish, ambitious man. Oho ! 
 you admire this Mr. Trevanion much, eh ? Yes, that fire of 
 manner, his fine words, and bold thoughts, were made to daz- 
 zle youth." 
 
 " Fine words, my dear uncle ! fire ! I should have said, in 
 hearing Mr. Trevanion, that his style of conversation was so 
 homely, you would wonder how he could have won such fame 
 as a public speaker." 
 
 "Indeed !" 
 
 " The plough has passed there," said my father. 
 
 " But not the plough of care : rich, famous, Ellinor his wife, 
 and no son ! " 
 
 " It is because his heart is sometimes sad that he would see 
 us." 
 
 Roland started first at my father, next at me. " Then," 
 quoth my uncle heartily, " in God's name, let him come. I 
 can shake him by the hand, as I would a brother soldier. 
 Poor Trevanion ! Write to him at once, Sisty." 
 
 I sat down and obeyed. When I had sealed my letter, I 
 looked up, and saw that Roland was lighting his bed-candle at 
 my father's table ; and my father, taking his hand, said some- 
 thing to him in a low voice. I guessed it related to his son, 
 for he shook his head, and answered in a stern, hollow voice : 
 " Renew grief if you please, not shame. On that subject- 
 silence ! "
 
 Il6 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LEFT to myself in the earlier part of the day, I wandered, 
 wistful and lonely, through the vast wilderness of London. 
 By degrees I familiarized myself with that populous solitude. 
 I ceased to pine for the green fields. That active energy all 
 around, at first saddening, became soon exhilarating, and at 
 last contagious. To an industrious mind, nothing is so catch- 
 ing as industry. I began to grow weary of my golden holiday 
 of unlaborious childhood, to sigh for toil, to look around me 
 for a career. The University, which I had before anticipated 
 with pleasure, seemed now to fade into a dull monastic pros- 
 pect : after having trod the streets of London, to wander 
 through cloisters was to go back in life. Day by day, my mind 
 grew sensibly within me ; it came out from the rosy twilight 
 of boyhood ; it felt the doom of Cain, under the broad sun of 
 man. 
 
 Uncle Jack soon became absorbed in his new speculation 
 for the good of the human race, and, except at meals (whereat, 
 to do him justice, he was punctual enough, though he did not 
 keep us in ignorance of the sacrifices he made, and the invita- 
 tions he refused, for our sake), we seldom saw him. The Cap- 
 tain, too, generally vanished after breakfast, seldom dined 
 with us, and it was often late before he returned. He had the 
 latch-key of the house, and let himself in when he pleased. 
 Sometimes (for his chamber was next to mine) his step on the 
 stairs awoke me ; and sometimes I heard him pace his room 
 with perturbed strides, or fancied that I caught a low groan. 
 He became every day more careworn in appearance, and every 
 day the hair seemed more gray. Yet he talked to us all easily 
 and cheerfully ; and I thought that I was the only one in the 
 house who perceived the gnawing pangs over which the stout 
 old Spartan drew the decorous cloak. 
 
 Pity, blended with admiration, made me curious to learn 
 how these absent days, that brought nights so disturbed, were 
 consumed. I felt that, if I could master the Captain's secret, 
 I might win the right both to comfort and to aid. 
 
 I resolved at length, after many conscientious scruples, to 
 endeavor to satisfy a curiosity, excused by its motives. 
 
 Accordingly, one morning, after watching him from the 
 house, I stole in his track, and followed him at a distance. 
 
 And this was the outline of his day. He set off at first with 
 a firm stride, despite his lameness his gaunt figure erect, the
 
 THE CAXTONS. 1 17 
 
 soldierly chest well thrown out from the threadbare but speck- 
 less coat. First, he took his way towards the purlieus of 
 Leicester Square ; several times, to and fro, did he pace the 
 isthmus that leads from Piccadilly into that reservoir of 
 foreigners, and the lanes and courts that start thence towards 
 St. Martin's. After an hour or two so passed, the step became 
 more slow ; and often the sleek, napless hat was lifted up, and 
 the brow wiped. At length he bent his way towards the two 
 great theatres, paused before the play-bills, as if deliberating 
 seriously on the chances of entertainment they severally prof- 
 fered, wandered slowly through the small streets that surround 
 those temples of the Muse, and finally emerged into the Strand. 
 There he rested himself for an hour, at a small cook-shop, and, 
 as I passed the window and glanced within, I could see him 
 seated before the simple dinner, which he scarcely touched, and 
 poring over the advertisement columns of the Times. The 
 Times finished, and a few morsels distastefully swallowed, the 
 Captain put down his shilling in silence, receiving his pence in 
 exchange, and I had just time to slip aside as he reappeared 
 at the threshold. He looked round as he lingered, but I took 
 care he should not detect me ; and then struck off towards the 
 more fashionable quarters of the town. It was now the after- 
 noon, and, though not yet the season, the streets swarmed 
 with life. As he came into Waterloo Place, a slight but mus- 
 cular figure, buttoned up across the breast, like his own, can- 
 tered by on a handsome bay horse every eye was on that 
 figure. Uncle Roland stopped short, and lifted his hand to 
 his hat ; the rider touched his own with his forefinger, and 
 cantered on Uncle Roland turned round and gazed. 
 
 " Who," I asked, of a shop-boy just before me, also staring 
 with all his eyes, " who is that gentleman on horseback ? " 
 
 " Why, the Duke to be sure," said the boy contemptuously. 
 
 "The Duke?" 
 
 " Wellington stu-pid ! " 
 
 " Thank you," said I meekly. Uucle Roland had moved on 
 into Regent Street, but with a brisker step : the sight of the 
 old chief had done the old soldier good. Here again he paced 
 to and fro ; till I, watching him from the other side of the way, 
 was ready to drop with fatigue, stout walker though I was. 
 But the Captain's day was not half done. He took out his 
 watch, put it to his ear, and then, replacing it, passed into 
 Bond Street, and thence into Hyde Park. There, evidently 
 weaned out, he leant against the rails, near the bronze statue, 
 in an attitude that spoke despondency. I seated myself on
 
 Il8 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 the grass near the statue, and gazed at him : the park was 
 empty compared with the streets, but still there were some 
 equestrian idlers, and many foot-loungers. My uncle's eye 
 turned wistfully on each : once or twice, some gentleman of a 
 military aspect (which I had already learned to detect) stopped, 
 looked at him, approached, and spoke ; but the Captain seemed 
 as if ashamed of such greetings. He answered shortly, and 
 turned again. 
 
 The day waned, evening came on ; the Captain again looked 
 at his watch, shook his head, and made his way to a bench, 
 where he sat perfectly motionless ; his hat over his brows, his 
 arms folded ; till uprose the moon. I had tasted nothing since 
 breakfast ; I was famished, but I still kept my post like an 
 old Roman sentinel. 
 
 At length the Captain rose, and re-entered Piccadilly ; but 
 how different his mien and bearing ! Languid, stooping, his 
 chest sunk, his head inclined, his limbs dragging one after the 
 other, his lameness painfully perceptible. What a contrast in 
 the broken invalid at night from the stalwart veteran of the 
 morning ! 
 
 How I longed to spring forward to offer my arm ! but I did 
 not dare. 
 
 The Captain stopped near a cabstand. He put his hand in 
 his pocket ; he drew out his purse ; he passed his fingers over 
 the network ; the purse slipped again into the pocket, and, as 
 if with a heroic effort, my uncle drew up his head, and walked 
 on sturdily. 
 
 " Where next ? " thought I. " Surely home ! No, he is 
 pitiless ! " 
 
 The Captain stopped not till he arrived at one of the small 
 theatres in the Strand ; then he read the bill, and asked if 
 half-price was begun. " Just begun," was the answer, and the 
 Captain entered. I also took a ticket and followed. Passing 
 by the open doors of a refreshment-room, I fortified myself 
 with some biscuits and soda-water. And in another minute, 
 for the first time in my life, I beheld a play. But the play did 
 not fascinate me. It was the middle of some jocular after- 
 piece ; roars of laughter resounded round me. I could detect 
 nothing to laugh at, and sending my keen eyes into every 
 corner, I perceived at last, in the uppermost tier, one face as 
 saturnine as my own. Eureka ! It was the Captain's ! " Why 
 should he go to a play if he enjoys it so little ! " thought I ; 
 " better have spent a shilling on a cab, poor old fellow ! " 
 
 But soon came smart-looking men, and still smarter-looking
 
 THE CAXTONS. lig 
 
 ladies, around the solitary corner of the poor Captain. He 
 grew fidgety ; he rose ; he vanished. I left my place, and 
 stood without the box to watch for him. Downstairs he 
 slumped ; I recoiled into the shade ; and after standing a 
 moment or two, as in doubt, he entered boldly the refresh- 
 ment room or saloon. 
 
 Now, since I had left that saloon it had became crowded, and 
 I slipped in unobserved. Strange was it, grotesque, yet pathetic, 
 to mark the old soldier in the midst of that gay swarm. He 
 towered above all like a Homeric hero, a head taller than 
 the tallest ; and his appearance was so remarkable, that it 
 invited the instant attention of the fair. I, in my simplicity, 
 thought it was the natural tenderness of that amiable and 
 penetrating sex, ever quick to detect trouble and anxious to 
 relieve it, which induced three ladies, in silk attire one hav- 
 ing a hat and plume, the other two with a profusion of ring- 
 lets to leave a little knot of gentlemen with whom they were 
 conversing, and to plant themselves before my uncle. I 
 advanced through the press to hear what passed. 
 
 " You are looking for some one, I'm sure," quoth one 
 familiarly, tapping his arm with her fan. 
 
 The Captain started. " Ma'am, you are not wrong," said he. 
 
 " Can I do as well ? " said one of those compassionate angels, 
 with heavenly sweetness. 
 
 " You are very kind, I thank you ; no, no, ma'am," said the 
 Captain with his best bow. 
 
 " Do take a glass of negus," said another, as her friend gave 
 way to her. " You seem tired, and so am I. Here, this way "; 
 and she took hold of his arm to lead him to the table. The 
 Captain shcok his head mournfully ; and then, as if suddenly 
 aware of the nature of the attentions so lavished on him, he 
 looked down upon these fair Armidas with a look of such mild 
 reproach, such sweet compassion not shaking off the hand, 
 in his chivalrous devotion to the sex which extended even to 
 all its outcasts that each bold eye fell abashed. The hand 
 was timidly and involuntarily withdrawn from the arm, and my 
 uncle passed his way. 
 
 He threaded the crowd, passed out at the further door, and 
 I, guessing his intention, was in waiting for his steps in the 
 street. 
 
 " Now home at last, thank Heaven ! " thought I. Mistaken 
 still ! My uncle went first towards that popular haunt, which 
 I have since discovered is called " the Shades "; but he soon 
 re-emerged, and finally he knocked at the door of a private
 
 I2O THE CAXTONS. 
 
 house, in one of the streets out of St. James's. It was opened 
 jealously, and closed as he entered, leaving me without. What 
 could this house be ! As I stood and watched, some other 
 men approached ; again the low, single knock : again the jeal- 
 ous opening, and the stealthy entrance. 
 
 A policeman passed and repassed me. " Don't be tempted, 
 young man," said he, looking hard at me : " take my advice 
 and go home." 
 
 " What is that house, then ?" said I, with a sort of shudder 
 at this ominous warning. 
 
 "Oh, you know." 
 
 " Not I. I am new to London." 
 
 " It is a hell," said the policeman satisfied, by my frank 
 manner, that I spoke the truth. 
 
 " God bless me a what ! I could not have heard you 
 rightly ? " 
 
 " A hell ; a gambling-house ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " and I moved on. Could Captain Roland, the rigid, 
 the thrifty, the penurious, be a gambler ? The light broke on 
 me at once ; the unhappy father sought his son ! I leant 
 against the post, and tried hard not to sob. 
 
 By and by, I heard the door open : the Captain came out 
 and took the way homeward. I ran on before, and got in first, 
 to the inexpressible relief both of father and mother, who had 
 not seen me since breakfast, and who were in equal consterna- 
 tion at my absence. I submitted to be scolded with a good 
 grace. "I had been sight-seeing, and lost my way"; begged 
 for some supper, and slunk to bed ; and five minutes after- 
 wards the Captain's jaded step came wearily up the stairs. 
 
 PART SIXTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 -' I DON'T know that," said my father. 
 
 What is it my father does not know ? My father does not 
 know that "happiness is our being's end and aim." 
 
 And pertinent to what does my father reply, by words so 
 sceptical, to an assertion so seldom disputed ? 
 
 Reader, Mr. Trevanion has been half an hour seated in our
 
 THE CAXTONS. 121 
 
 little drawing-room. He has received two cups of tea from my 
 mother's fair hand ; he has made himself at home. With Mr. 
 Trevanion has come another old friend of my father's whom he 
 has not seen since he left college Sir Sedley Beaudesert. 
 
 Now, you must understand that it is a warm night, a little 
 after nine o'clock a night between departing summer and 
 approaching autumn. The windows are open ; we have a bal- 
 cony, which my mother has taken care to fill with flowers ; the 
 air, though we are in London, is sweet and fresh, the street 
 quiet, except that an occasional carriage or hackney cabriolet 
 rolls rapidly by ; a few stealthy passengers pass to and fro 
 noiselessly on their way homeward. We are on classic ground, 
 near that old and venerable Museum, the dark monastic pile 
 which the taste of the age had spared then, and the quiet of 
 the temple seems to hallow the precincts. Captain Roland is 
 seated by the fireplace, and, though there is no fire, he is 
 shading his face with a hand-screen ; my father and Mr. Tre- 
 vanion have drawn their chairs close to each other in the 
 middle of the room ; Sir Sedley Beaudesert leans against the 
 wall near the window, and behind my mother, who looks pret- 
 tier and more pleased than usual, since her Austin has his old 
 friends about him ; and I, leaning my elbow on the table, and 
 my chin upon my hand, am gazing with great admiration on 
 Sir Sedley Beaudesert. 
 
 O rare specimen of a race fast decaying ! specimen of the 
 true fine gentleman, ere the word dandy was known, and 
 before exquisite became a noun substantive let me here pause 
 to describe thee ! Sir Sedley Beaudesert was the contempo- 
 rary of Trevanion and my father ; but, without affecting to be 
 young, he still seemed so. Dress, tone, look, manner, all were 
 young, yet all had a certain dignity which does not belong to 
 youth. At the age of five-and-twenty he had won what would 
 have been fame to a French marquis of the old regime, viz., 
 the reputation of being " the most charming man of his day " 
 the most popular of our sex, the most favored, my dear 
 lady-reader, by yours. It is a mistake, I believe, to suppose 
 that it does not require talent to become the fashion ; at all 
 events Sir Sedley was the fashion, and he had talent. He had 
 travelled much, he had read much, especially in memoirs, 
 history, and belles-lettres ; he made verses with grace and a 
 certain originality of easy wit and courtly sentiment ; he con- 
 versed delightfully ; he was polished and urbane in manner ; 
 he was brave and honorable in conduct ; in words he could 
 flatter, in deeds he was sincere.
 
 122 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Sir Sedley Beaudesert had never married. Whatever his 
 years, he was still young enough in looks to be married for 
 love. He was high-born, he was rich ; he was, as I have said, 
 popular ; yet on his fair features there was an expression of 
 melancholy ; and on that forehead pure from the lines of 
 ambition, and free from the weight of study there was the 
 shadow of unmistakable regret. 
 
 " I don't know that," said my father ; " I have never yet 
 found in life one man who made happiness his end and aim. 
 One wants to gain a fortune, another to spend it ; one to get 
 a place, another to build a name ; but they all know very well 
 that it is not happiness they search for. No Utilitarian was 
 ever actuated by self-interest, poor man, when he sat down to 
 scribble his unpopular crotchets to prove self-interest universal. 
 And as to that notable distinction between self-interest vulgar 
 and self-interest enlightened, the more the self-interest is 
 enlightened, the less we are influenced by it. If you tell the 
 young man who has just written a fine book or made a fine 
 speech, that he will not be any happier, if he attain to the fame 
 of Milton or the power of Pitt, and that, for the sake of his 
 own happiness, he had much better cultivate a farm, live in the 
 country, and postpone to the last the days of dyspepsia and 
 gout, he will answer you fairly : ' I am quite as sensible of that 
 as you are. But I am not thinking whether or not I shall be 
 happy. I have made up my mind to be, if I can, a great 
 author or a prime minister.' So it is with all the active sons 
 of the world. To push on is the law of nature. And you can 
 no more say to men and to nations than to children : ' Sit still, 
 and don't wear out your shoes ! ' ' 
 
 " Then," said Trevanion, " if I tell you I am not happy, 
 your only answer is, that I obey an inevitable law." 
 
 " No ! I don't say that it is an inevitable law that man should 
 not be happy ; but it is an inevitable law that a man, in spite 
 of himself, should live for something higher than his own hap- 
 piness. He cannot live in himself or for himself, however ego- 
 tistical he may try to be. Every desire he has links him with 
 others. Man is not a machine, he is a part of one." 
 
 " True, brother, he is a soldier, not an army," said Captain 
 Roland. 
 
 " Life is a drama, not a monologue," pursued my father. 
 " Drama is derived from a Greek verb, signifying to do. Every 
 actor in the drama has something to do, which helps on the 
 progress of the whole : that is the object for which the Author 
 created him. Do your part, and let the Great Play get on."
 
 THE CAXTONS. 123 
 
 " Ah ! " said Trevanion briskly, " but to do the part is the 
 difficulty ! Every actor helps to the catastrophe, and yet must 
 do his part without knowing how all is to end. Shall he help 
 the curtain to fall on a tragedy or a comedy ? Come, I will 
 tell you the one secret of my public life that which explains 
 all its failure (for, in spite of my position, I have failed) and 
 its regrets / want conviction ! " 
 
 " Exactly," said my father ; " because to every question 
 there are two sides, and you look at them both." 
 
 " You have said it," answered Trevanion, smiling also. 
 " For public life a man should be one-sided ; he must act with 
 a party ; and a party insists that the shield is silver, when, if 
 it will take' the trouble to turn the corner, it will see that the 
 reverse of the shield is gold. Woe to the man who makes that 
 discovery alone, while his party are still swearing the shield is 
 silver, and that not once in his life, but every night ! " 
 
 " You have said quite enough to convince me that you ought 
 not to belong to a party, but not enough to convince me why 
 you should not be happy," said my father. 
 
 " Do you remember," said Sir Sedley Beandesert, " an anec- 
 dote of the first Duke of Portland ? He had a gallery in the 
 great stable of his villa in Holland, where a concert was given 
 once a week, to cheer and amuse his horses ! I have no doubt 
 the horses thrived all the better for it. What Trevanion wants 
 is a concert once a week. With him it is always saddle and 
 spur. Yet, after all, who would not envy him ? If life be a 
 drama, his name stands high in the playbill, and is printed in 
 Capitals on the walls." 
 
 " Envy me ! " cried Trevanion " ME ! no, you are the en- 
 viable man you who have only one grief in the world, and 
 that so absurd a one, that I will make you blush by disclosing 
 it. Hear, O sage Austin ! O sturdy Roland ! Olivares was 
 haunted by a spectre, and Sedley Beaudesert by the dread of 
 old age ! " 
 
 " Well," said my mother seriously, " I do think it requires a 
 great sense of religion, or, at all events, children of one's own, 
 in whom one is young again, to reconcile oneself to becoming 
 old." 
 
 " My dear ma'am," said Sir Sedley, who had slightly col- 
 ored at Trevanion's charge, but had now recovered his easy 
 self-possession, " you have spoken so admirably that you give 
 me courage to confess my weakness. I do dread to be old. 
 All the joys of my life have been the joys of youth. I have 
 had so exquisite a pleasure in the mere sense of living, that old
 
 124 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 age, as it comes near, terrifies me by its dull eyes and gray 
 hairs. I have lived the life of the butterfly. Summer is over, 
 and I see my flowers withering ; and my wings are chilled by 
 the first airs of winter. Yes, I envy Trevanion ; for, in public 
 life, no man is ever young ; and, while he can work, he is 
 never old." 
 
 " My dear Beaudesert," said my father, " when St. Amable, 
 patron saint of Riom, in Auvergne, went to Rome, the sun 
 waited upon him as a servant, carried his cloak and gloves for 
 him in the heat, and kept off the rain, if the weather changed, 
 like an umbrella. You want to put the sun to the same use ; 
 you are quite right ; but then, you see, you must first be a 
 saint before you can be sure of the sun as a servant." 
 
 Sir Sedley smiled charmingly ; but the smile changed to a 
 sigh as he added : " I don't think I should much mind being 
 a saint, if the sun would be my sentinel instead of my courier. 
 I want nothing of him but to stand still. You see he moved 
 even for St. Amable. My dear madam, you and I understand 
 each other ; and it is a very hard thing to grow old, do what 
 one will to keep young." 
 
 " What say you, Roland, of these two malcontents ? " asked 
 my father. The Captain turned uneasily in his chair, for the 
 rheumatism was gnawing his shoulder, and sharp pains were 
 shooting through his mutilated limb. 
 
 " I say," answered Roland, " that these men are wearied 
 with marching from Brentford to Windsor that they have 
 never known the bivouac and the battle." 
 
 Both the grumblers turned their eyes to the veteran : the 
 eyes rested first on the furrowed, careworn lines in his eagle 
 face, then they fell on the stiff, outstretched cork limb and 
 then they turned away. 
 
 Meanwhile my mother had softly risen, and under pretence 
 of looking for her work on the table near him, bent over the 
 old soldier and pressed his hand. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said my father, " I don't think my brother 
 ever heard of Nichocorus, the Greek comic writer ; yet he has 
 illustrated him very ably. Saith Nichocorus, ' The best cure 
 for drunkenness is a sudden calamity.' For chronic drunken- 
 ness, a continued course of real misfortune must be very salu- 
 tary ! " 
 
 No answer came from the two complainants ; and my father 
 took up a great book.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 125 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " MY friends," said my father, looking up from his book, and 
 addressing himself to his two visitors, " I know of one thing, 
 milder than calamity, that would do you both a great deal of 
 good." 
 
 " What is that ?" asked Sir Sedley. 
 
 " A saffron bag, worn at the pit of the stomach ! " 
 
 " Austin, my dear ! " said my mother reprovingly. 
 
 My father did not heed the interruption, but continued 
 gravely : " Nothing is better for the spirits ! Roland is in no 
 want of saffron, because he is a warrior ; and the desire of 
 fighting, and the hope of victory, infuse such a heat into the 
 spirits as is profitable for long life, and keeps up the system." 
 
 " Tut ! " said Trevanion. 
 
 " But gentlemen in your predicament must have recourse to 
 artificial means. Nitre in broth, for instance, about three 
 grains to ten (cattle fed upon nitre grow fat); or earthy odors, 
 such as exist in cucumbers and cabbage. A certain great lord 
 had a clod of fresh earth, laid in a napkin, put under his nose 
 every morning after sleep. Light anointing of the head with 
 oil, mixed with roses and salt, is not bad ; but, upon the whole, 
 I prescribe the saffron bag at the " 
 
 " Sisty, my dear, will you look for my scissors ? " said my 
 mother. 
 
 " What nonsense are you talking ! Question ! question ! " 
 cried Mr. Trevanion. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " exclaimed my father, opening his eyes ; " I am 
 giving you the advice of Lord Bacon. You want conviction 
 conviction comes from passion, passion from the spirits, spirits 
 from a saffron bag. You, Beaudesert, on the other hand, want 
 to keep youth. He keeps youth longest who lives longest. 
 Nothing more conduces to longevity than a saffron bag, pro- 
 vided always it is worn at the " 
 
 " Sisty, my thimble ! " said my mother. 
 
 "You laugh at us justly," said Beaudesert, smiling ; "and 
 the same remedy, I dare say, would cure us both ! " 
 
 " Yes," said my father, " there is no doubt of that. In the 
 pit of the stomach is that great central web of nerves called the 
 ganglions ; thence they affect the head and the heart ; Mr. 
 Squills proved that to us, Sisty." 
 
 " Yes," said I ; " but I never heard Mr. Squills talk of a 
 saffron bag."
 
 126 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Oh, foolish boy ! it is not the saffron bag, it is the belief 
 in the saffron bag. Apply BELIEF to the centre of the nerves, 
 and all will go well," said my father. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " BUT it is a devil of a thing to have too nice a conscience ! " 
 quoth the member of Parliament. 
 
 " And it is not an angel of a thing to lose one's front teeth ! " 
 sighed the fine gen.leman. 
 
 Therewith my father rose, and, putting his hand into his 
 waistcoat, more sue, delivered his famous 
 
 SERMON UPON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN FAITH AND 
 PURPOSE. 
 
 Famous it was in our domestic circle. But, as yet, it has 
 not gone beyond. And since the reader, I am sure, does not 
 turn to the Caxton Memoirs with the expectation of finding 
 sermons, so to that circle let its fame be circumscribed. All I 
 shall say about it is that it was a very fine sermon, and that it 
 proved indisputably, to me, at least, the salubrious effects of 
 a saffron bag applied to the great centre of the nervous sys- 
 tem. But the wise Ali saith, that " a fool doth not know what 
 rnaketh him look little, neither will he hearken to him that 
 adviseth him." I cannot assert that my father's friends were 
 fools, but they certainly came under this definition of Folly. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FOR therewith arose, not conviction, but discussion ; Tre- 
 vanion was logical, Beauclesert sentimental. My father held 
 firm to the saffron bag. When James the First dedicated 
 to the Duke of Buckingham his meditation on the Lord's 
 Prayer, he gave a very sensible reason for selecting his grace 
 for that honor : " For," saith the king, " it is made upon a 
 very short and plaine prayer, and, therefore, the fitter for a 
 courtier, for courtiers are for the most part thought neither to 
 have lust nor leisure to say long prayers ; liking best cotut-: 
 messe et long disncr." I suppose it was for a similar reason 
 that my father persisted in dedicating to the member of Parlia- 
 ment and the fine gentleman this " short and plaine " moral- 
 ity of his to wit, the saffron bag. He was evidently per- 
 suaded, if he could once get them to apply that, it was all that 
 was needful ; that they had neither lust nor leisure for longer 
 instructions. And this saffron bag it came down with such
 
 THE CAXTONS. 12"J 
 
 a whack, at every round of the argument . You would have 
 thought my father one of the old plebeian combatants in the 
 popular ordeal, who, forbidden to use sword and lance, fought 
 with a sandbag tied to a flail ; a very stunning weapon it was 
 when filled only with sand ; but a bag filled with saffron it was 
 irresistible ! Though my father had two to one against him, 
 they could stand such a deuce of a weapon. And after tuts 
 and pishes innumerable from Mr. Trevanion, and sundry bland 
 grimaces from Sir Sedley Beaudesert, they fairly gave in, 
 though they would not own they were beaten. 
 
 " Enough," said the member, " I see that you don't com- 
 prehend me ; I must continue to move by my own impulse." 
 
 My father's pet book was the Colloquies of Erasmus ; he 
 was wont to say that those Colloquies furnished life with illus- 
 trations in every page. Out of the Colloquies of Erasmus he 
 now answered the member : 
 
 " Rabirius, wanting his servant Syrus to get up," quoth my 
 father, " cried out to him to move. ' 1 do move,' said Syrus. 
 'I see you move,' replied Rabirius, 'but you move nothing.' 
 To return to the saffron bag " 
 
 " Confound the saffron bag ! " cried Trevanion, in a rage ; 
 and then softening his look as he drew on his gloves, he turned 
 to my mother, and said, with more politeness than was natural 
 to, or at least customary with him : 
 
 " By the way, my dear Mrs. Caxton, I should tell you that 
 Lady Ellinor comes to town to-morrow, on purpose to call on 
 you. We shall be here some little time, Austin ; and though 
 London is so empty, there are still more persons of note to 
 whom I should like to introduce you, and yours " 
 
 " Nay," said my father ; " your world and my world are not 
 the same. Books for me, and men for you. Neither Kitty 
 nor I can change our habits, even for friendship ; she has a 
 great piece of work to finish, and so have I. Mountains can- 
 not stir, especially when in labor ; but Mahomet can come to 
 the mountain as often as he likes." 
 
 Mr. Trevanion insisted, and Sir Sedley Beaudesert mildly 
 put in his own claims ; both boasted acquaintance with literary 
 men, whom my father would, at all events, be pleased to meet. 
 My father doubted whether he could meet any literary men 
 more eloquent than Cicero, or more amusing than Aristophanes; 
 and observed that, if such did exist, he would rather meet 
 them in their books than in a drawing-room. In fine, he was 
 immovable ; and so also, with less argument, was Captain 
 Roland.
 
 128 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Then Mr. Trevanion turned to me. 
 
 "Your son, at all events, should see something of the 
 world." 
 
 My mother's soft eye sparkled. 
 
 " My dear friend, I thank you," said my father, touched ; 
 "and Pisistratus and I will talk it over." 
 
 Our guests had departed. All four of us gathered to the 
 open window, and enjoyed in silence the cool air and the 
 moonlight. 
 
 " Austin," said my mother at last, " I fear it is for my sake 
 that you refuse going amongst your old friends : you knew I 
 should be frightened by such fine people, and " 
 
 " And we have been happy for more than eighteen years 
 without them, Kitty ! My poor friends are not happy, and 
 we are. To leave well alone is a golden rule worth all in 
 Pythagoras. The ladies of Bubastis, my dear, a place in 
 Egypt where the cat was worshipped, always kept rigidly 
 aloof from the gentlemen in Athribis, who adored the shrew- 
 mice. Cats are domestic animals, your shrew-mice are sad 
 gadabouts : you can't find a better model, my Kitty, than the 
 ladies of Bubastis ! " 
 
 " How Trevanion is altered ! " said Roland musingly " he 
 who was so lively and ardent ! " 
 
 " He ran too fast uphill at first, and has been out of breath 
 ever since," said my father. 
 
 " And Lady Ellinor," said Roland hesitatingly, " shall you 
 see her to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " said my father calmly. 
 
 As Captain Roland spoke, something in the tone of his 
 question seemed to flash a conviction on my mother's heart 
 the woman there was quick : she drew back, turning pale, even 
 in the moonlight, and fixed her eyes on my father, while I felt 
 her hand which had clasped mine tremble convulsively. 
 
 I understood her. Yes, this Lady Ellinor was the early 
 rival whose name till then she had not known. She fixed her 
 eyes on my father, and at his tranquil tone and quiet look she 
 breathed more freely, and, sliding her hand from mine, rested 
 it fondly on his shoulder. A few moments afterwards, I and 
 Captain Roland found ourselves standing alone by the 
 window. 
 
 " You are young, nephew," said the Captain ; " and you 
 have the name of a fallen family to raise. Your father does 
 well not to reject for you that opening into the great world 
 which Trevanion offers. As for me, my business in London
 
 THE CAXTONS. 129 
 
 seems over : I cannot find what I came to seek. I have sent 
 for my daughter ; when she arrives I shall return to my old 
 tower ; and the man and the ruin will crumble away together." 
 
 " Tush, uncle ! I must work hard and get money ; and 
 then we will repair the old tower, and buy back the old estate. 
 My father shall sell the red brick house ; we will fit him up 
 library in the keep ; and we will all live united, in peace, and 
 in state, as grand as our ancestors before us." 
 
 While I thus spoke, my uncle's eyes were fixed upon a corner 
 of the street, where a figure, half in shade, half in moonlight v 
 stood motionless : " Ah ! " said I, following his eye. " I have 
 observed that man, two or three times, pass up and down the 
 street on the other side of the way, and turn his head towards 
 our window. Our guests were with us then, and my father in 
 full discourse, or I should have " 
 
 Before I could finish the sentence, my uncle, stifling an 
 exclamation, broke away, hurried out of the room, stumped 
 down the stairs, and was in the street, while I was yet rooted 
 to the spot with surprise. I remained at the window, and my 
 eye rested on the figure. I saw the Captain, with his bare 
 head and his gray hair, cross the street ; the figure started, 
 turned the corner, and fled. 
 
 Then I followed my uncle, and arrived in time to save him 
 from falling : he leant his head on my breast, and I heard him 
 murmur : " It is he it is he ! He has watched us ! He 
 repents ! " 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE next day Lady Ellinor called ; but, to my great disap- 
 pointment, without Fanny. 
 
 Whether or not some joy at the incident of the previous 
 night had served to rejuvenate my uncle, I know not, but he 
 looked to me ten years younger when Lady Ellinor entered. 
 How carefully the buttoned-up coat was brushed ! How new 
 and glossy was the black stock ! The poor Captain was re- 
 stored to his pride, and mighty proud he looked ! With a glow 
 on his cheek, and a fire in his eye ; his head thrown back, and 
 his whole air composed, severe, Mavortian, and majestic, as if 
 awaiting the charge of the French cuirassiers at the head of 
 his detachment. 
 
 My father, on the contrary, was as usual (till dinner, when 
 he always dressed punctiliously, out of respect to his Kitty) in 
 his easy morning gown and slippers t and nothing but a cer- 
 tain compression in his lips, which had lasted all the morning,
 
 130 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 evinced his anticipation of the visit, or the emotion it caused 
 him. 
 
 Lady Ellinor behaved beautifully. She could not conceal 
 a nervous trepidation, when she first took the hand my father 
 extended ; and, in touching rebuke of the Captain's stately 
 bow, she held out to him the hand left disengaged, with a look 
 which brought Roland at once to her side. It was a desertion 
 of his colors, to which nothing, short of Ney's shameful con- 
 duct at Napoleon's return from Elba, affords a parallel in his- 
 tory. Then, without waiting for introduction, and before a 
 word indeed was said, Lady Ellinor came to my mother so 
 cordially, so caressingly she threw into her smile, voice, man- 
 ner, such winning sweetness, that I, intimately learned in my 
 poor mother's simple, loving heart, wondered how she refrained 
 from throwing her arms round Lady Ellinor'sneck and kissing 
 her outright. It must have been a great conquest over herself 
 not to do it ! My turn came next ; and talking to me, and 
 about me, soon set all parties at their ease at least, appa- 
 rently. 
 
 What was said I cannot remember ; I do not think one of 
 us could. But an hour slipped away, and there was no gap in 
 the conversation. 
 
 With curious interest, and a survey I strove to make impar- 
 tial, I compared Lady Ellinor with my mother. And I com- 
 prehend the fascination which the high-born lady must, in 
 their earlier youth, have exercised over both brothers, so dis- 
 similar to each other. For charm was the characteristic of 
 Lady Ellinor a charm indefinable. It was not the mere 
 grace of refined breeding, though that went a great way ; it 
 was a charm that seemed to spring from natural sympathy. 
 Whomsoever she addressed, that person appeared for the mo- 
 ment to engage all her attention, to interest her whole mind. 
 She had a gift of conversation very peculiar. She made what 
 she said like a continuation of what was said to her. She 
 seemed as if she had entered into your thoughts and talked 
 them aloud. Her mind was evidently cultivated with great 
 care, but she was perfectly void of pedantry. A hint, an allu- 
 sion, sufficed to show how much she knew, to one well instruct- 
 ed, without mortifying or perplexing the ignorant. Yes, 
 there probably was the only woman my father had ever 
 met who could be the companion to his mind, walk through 
 the garden of knowledge by his side, and trim the flowers 
 while he cleared the vistas. On the other hand, there was an 
 inborn nobility in Lady Ellinor's sentiments that must have
 
 THE CAXTONS, IJ1 
 
 struck the most susceptible chord in Roland's nature, and the 
 sentiments took eloquence from the look, the mien, the sweet 
 dignity of the very turn of the head. Yes, she must have been 
 a fitting Oriana to a young Amadis. It was not hard to see 
 that Lady Ellinor was ambitious ; that she had a love of fame, 
 for fame itself ; that she was proud ; that she set value (and 
 that morbidly) on the world's opinion. This was perceptible 
 when she spoke of her husband, even of her daughter. It 
 seemed to me as if she valued the intellect of the one, the 
 beauty of the other, by the gauge of the social distinction it 
 conferred. She took measure of the gift, as I was taught at 
 Dr. Herman's to take measure of the height of a tower, by the 
 length of the shadow it cast upon the ground. 
 
 My dear father ! with such a wife you would never have 
 lived eighteen years, shivering on the edge of a Great 
 Book. 
 
 My dear uncle, with such a wife you would never have been 
 contented with a cork leg and a Waterloo medal ! And I 
 understand why Mr. Trevanion, " eager and ardent " as ye 
 say he was in youth, with a heart bent on the practical suc- 
 cess of life, won the hand of the heiress. Well, you see Mr. 
 Trevanion has contrived not to be happy ! By the side of my 
 listening, admiring mother, with her blue eyes moist, and her 
 coral lips apart, Lady Ellinor looks faded. Was she ever as 
 pretty as my mother is now ? Never. But she was much 
 handsomer. What delicacy in the outline, and yet how de- 
 cided in spite of the delicacy ! The eyebrow so defined the 
 profile slightly aquiline, so clearly cut with the curved nostril, 
 which, if physiognomists are right, shows sensibility so keen ; 
 and the classic lip that, but for the neighboring dimple, would 
 be so haughty. But wear and tear are in that face. The 
 nervous, excitable temper has helped the fret and cark of 
 ambitious life. My dear uncle, I know not yet your private 
 life. But as for my father, I am sure that, though he might 
 have done more on earth, he would have been less fit for 
 heaven, if he had married Lady Ellinor. 
 
 At last this visit, dreaded, I am sure, by three of the party, 
 was over, but not before I had promised to dine at the 
 Trevanions' that day. 
 
 When we were again alone, my father threw off a long 
 breath, and, looking him cheerfully, said : " Since Pisistratus 
 deserts us, let us console ourselves for his absence send for 
 Brother Jack, and all four go down to Richmond to drink 
 tea."
 
 132 THE CAXTONS, 
 
 " Thank you, Austin," said Roland. " But I don't want it, 
 I assure you ! " 
 
 " Upon your honor?" said my father in a half-whisper. 
 
 " Upon my honor." 
 
 " Nor I either ! So, my dear Kitty, Roland and I will take 
 a walk, and be back in time to see if that young Anachronism 
 looks as handsome as his new London-made clothes will 
 allow him. Properly speaking, he ought to go with an apple 
 in his hand, and a dove in his bosom. But now I think of it, 
 that was luckily not the fashion with the Athenians till the 
 time of Alcibiades ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 You may judge of the effect that my dinner at Mr. Tre- 
 vanion's, with a long conversation after it with Lady Ellinor, 
 made upon my mind, when, on my return home, after having 
 satisfied all questions of parental curiosity, I said nervously, 
 and looking down : " My dear father I should like very 
 much, if you have no objection to to " 
 
 " What, my dear ?" asked my father kindly. 
 
 " Accept an offer Lady Ellinor has made me on the part of 
 Mr Trevanion. He wants a secretary. He is kind enough 
 to excuse my inexperience, and declares I shall do very well, 
 and can soon get into his ways. Lady Ellinor says (I continued 
 with dignity) that it will be a great opening in public life for 
 me ; and at all events, my dear father, I shall see much of the 
 world, and learn what I really think will be more useful to me 
 than anything they will teach me at college." 
 
 My mother looked anxiously at my father. " It will indeed 
 be a great thing for Sisty," said she timidly ; and then, taking 
 courage, she added : " And that is just the sort of life he is 
 formed for " 
 
 " Hem ! " said my uncle. 
 
 My father rubbed his spectacles thoughtfully, and replied, 
 after a long pause : 
 
 " You may be right, Kitty : I don't think Pisistratus is meant 
 for study ; action will suit him better. But what does this office 
 lead to ? " 
 
 " Public employment, sir," said I boldly ; " the service of 
 my country." 
 
 " If that be the case," quoth Roland, " I have not a word 
 to say. But I should have thought that for a lad of spirit, a 
 descendant of the old De Caxtons, the army would have "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 133 
 
 " The army ! " exclaimed my mother, clasping her hands, and 
 looking involuntarily at my uncle's cork leg. 
 
 " The army ! " repeated my father peevishly. " Bless my 
 soul, Roland, you seem to think man is made for nothing else 
 but to be shot at ! You would not like the army, Pisistratus ? " 
 
 " Why, sir, not if it pained you and my dear mother ; other- 
 wise, indeed " 
 
 " Papae ! " said my father, interrupting me. " This all comes 
 of your giving the boy that ambitious, uncomfortable name, 
 Mrs. Caxton ; what could a Pisistratus be but the plague of 
 one's life ? That idea of serving his country is Pisistratus 
 ipsissimus all over. If ever I have another son (Dii meliora!) 
 he has only got to be called Eratostratus, and then he will be 
 burning down St. Paul's ; which I believe was, by the way, 
 first made out of the stones of a temple to Diana ! Of the 
 two, certainly, you had better serve your country with a goose- 
 quill than by poking a bayonet into the ribs of some unfortu- 
 nate Indian ; I don't think there are any other people whom 
 the service of one's country makes it necessary to kill just at 
 present, eh, Roland ? " 
 
 " It is a very fine field, India, " said my uncle sententiously. 
 " It is the nursery of captains." 
 
 " Is it ? Those plants take up a great deal of ground, then, 
 that might be more profitably cultivated. And, indeed, con- 
 sidering that the tallest captains in the world will be ultimately 
 set into a box not above seven feet at the longest, it is aston- 
 ishing what a quanity of room that species of arbor mortis takes 
 in the growing ! However, Pisistratus, to return to your 
 request, I will think it over, and talk to Trevanion." 
 
 " Or rather to Lady Ellinor," said I imprudently : my mother 
 slightly shivered, and took her hand from mine. I felt cut to 
 the heart by the slip of my own tongue. 
 
 " That, I think, your mother could do best," said rny father 
 drily, " if she wants to be quite convinced that somebody will 
 see that your shirts are aired. For I suppose they mean you 
 to lodge at Trevanion's." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " cried my mother. " He might as well go to 
 college then. I thought he was to stay with us ; only go in 
 the morning, but of course, sleep here." 
 
 " If I know anything of Trevanion," said my father, " his 
 secretary will be expected to do without sleep. Poor boy ! you 
 don't know what it is you desire. And yet, at your age, I 
 my father stopped short. " No ! " he renewed abruptly after a 
 long silence, and as if soliloquizing, " No : man is never
 
 134 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 wrong while he lives for others. The philosopher who con- 
 templates from the rock is a less noble image than the sailor 
 who struggles with the storm. Why should there be two of 
 us ? And could he be an alter ego, even if I wished it ? Im- 
 possible ! " My father turned on his chair, and laying the left 
 leg on the right knee, said smilingly, as he bent down to look 
 me full in the face : " But, Pisistratus, will you promise me 
 always to wear the saffron bag ?" 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I NOW make a long stride in my narrative. I am domesti- 
 cated with the Trevanions. A very short conversation with 
 the statesman sufficed to decide my father ; and the pith of 
 it lay in this single sentence uttered by Trevanion : " I 
 promise you one thing he shall never be idle ! " 
 
 Looking back I am convinced that my father was right, and 
 that he understood my character, and the temptations to which 
 I was most prone, when he consented to let me resign college 
 and enter thus prematurely on the world of men. I was nat- 
 urally so joyous that 1 should have made college life a holiday, 
 and then, in repentance, worked myself into a phthisis. 
 
 And my father, too, was right, that, though I could study, I 
 was not meant for a student. 
 
 After all, the thing was an experiment. I had time to spare 
 if the experiment failed, a year's delay would not necessarily 
 be a year's loss. 
 
 I am ensconced, then, at Mr. Trevanion's. I have been there 
 some months it is late in the winter ; Parliament and the sea- 
 son have commenced. I work hard Heaven knows harder 
 than I should have worked at college. Take a day for 
 sample. 
 
 Trevanion gets up at eight o'clock, and in all weathers rides 
 an hour before breakfast ; at nine he takes that meal in his 
 wife's dressing-room ; at half-past nine he comes into his study. 
 By that time he expects to find done by his secretary the work 
 I am about to describe. 
 
 On coming home, or rather before going to bed, which is 
 usually after three o'clock, it is Mr. Trevanion's habit to leave 
 on the table of the said study a list of directions for the secre- 
 tary. The following, which I take at random from many I 
 have preserved, may show their multifarious nature : 
 
 I. Look out in the Reports (Committee House of Lords) for the last seven
 
 THE CAXTONS. 135 
 
 years all that is said about tlte growth of fbx mark the passages for me. 
 
 2 Do. do. " Irish Emigration." 
 
 3 Hunt out second volume of Kames's History of Man, passage con- 
 taining " Reid's Logic " don't know where the book is ! 
 
 4. How does the line beginning " Lumina conjurent, inter" something, 
 end ? Is it in Gray ? See ! 
 
 5. Fracastorius writes " Quantum hoc infecit vitium, quot adiverit 
 urbes. ' Query, ought it not, in strict grammar, to be infecerit instead of 
 infecit ? if you don't know, write to father. 
 
 6. Write the four letters in full from the notes I leave, i. e., about the 
 Ecclesiastical Courts. 
 
 7. Look out Population Returns strike average of last five years (be- 
 tween mortality and births) in Devonshire and Lancashire. 
 
 8. Answer these six begging letters ; "No" civilly. 
 
 9. The other six, to constituents " that I have no interest with Govern- 
 ment." 
 
 10. See, if you have time, whether any of the new books on the round 
 table are not trash. 
 
 11. I want to know ALL about Indian corn ? 
 
 12. Longinus says something, somewhere, in regret for uncongenial pur- 
 suits (public life, I suppose) what is it? N.B. Longinus is not in my 
 London Catalogue, but is here, I know I think in a box in the lumber- 
 room. 
 
 13. Set right the calculation I leave on the poor-rates. I have made a 
 blunder somewhere. Etc., etc. 
 
 Certainly my father knew Mr. Trevanion ; he never ex- 
 pected a secretary to sleep ! To get through the work 
 required of me by half-past nine, I get up by candle-light. 
 At half-past nine I am still hunting for Longinus, when Mr. 
 Trevanion comes in with a bundle of letters. 
 
 Answers to half the said letters fall to my share. Directions 
 verbal in a species of short-hand talk. While I write, Mr. 
 Trevanion reads the newspapers, examines what I have done, 
 makes notes therefrom, some for Parliament, some for con- 
 versation, some for correspondence ; skims over the Parlia- 
 mentary papers of the morning, and jots down directions for 
 extracting, abridging, and comparing them, with others, 
 perhaps twenty years old. At eleven he walks down to a 
 Committee of the House of Commons, leaving me plenty to 
 do, till half-past three, when he returns. At four, Fanny puts 
 her head into the room and I lose mine. Four days in the 
 week Mr. Trevanion then disappears for the rest of the day : 
 dines at Bellamy's or a club; expects me at the House at 
 eight o'clock, in case he thinks of something, wants a fact or 
 a quotation. He then releases me, generally with a fresh list 
 of instructions. But I have my holidays, nevertheless. On 
 Wednesdays and Saturdays Mr. Trevanion gives dinners, and 
 I meet the most eminent men of the day on both sides.
 
 136 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 For Trevanion is on both sides himself or no side at all, 
 which comes to the same thing. On Tuesdays, Lady Ellinor 
 gives me a ticket for the Opera, and I get there at least in time 
 for the ballet. I have already invitations enough to balls 
 and soirees, for I am regarded as an only son of great 
 expectations. I am treated as becomes a Caxton who has the 
 right, if he pleases, to put a De before his name. I have 
 grown very smart. I have taken a passion for dress natural 
 to eighteen. I like everything I do, and every one about me. 
 I am over head and ears in love with Fanny Trevanion who 
 breaks my heart, nevertheless ; for she flirts with two peers, a 
 life-guardsman, three old members of Parliament, Sir Sedley 
 Beaudesert, one ambassador, and all his attaches, and positively 
 (the audacious minx !) with a bishop, in full wig and apron, 
 who, people say, means to marry again. 
 
 Pisistratus has lost color and flesh. His mother says he is 
 very much improved that he takes to be the natural effect 
 produced by Stultz and Hoby. Uncle Jack says he is " fined 
 down." 
 
 His father looks at him and writes to Trevanion : 
 
 " Dear T. I refused a salary for my son. Give him a horse, 
 and two hours a day to ride it. Yours, A. C." 
 
 The next day I am master of a pretty bay mare, and riding 
 by the side of Fanny Trevanion. Alas ! alas ! 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I HAVE not mentioned my Uncle Roland. He is gone 
 abroad to fetch his daughter. He has stayed longer than was 
 expected. Does he seek his son still there as here ? My 
 father has finished the first portion of his work, in two great 
 volumes. Uncle Jack, who for some time has been looking 
 melancholy, and who now seldoms stirs out, except on Sundays 
 (on which days we all meet at my father's and dine together) 
 Uncle Jack, I say, has undertaken to sell it. 
 
 " Don't be over-sanguine," says Uncle Jack, as he locks up 
 the MS. in two red boxes with a slit in the lids,which belonged to 
 one of the defunct companies. " Don't be over-sanguine as to 
 the price. These publishers never venture much on a first ex- 
 periment. They must be talked even into looking the book." 
 
 " Oh ! " said my father " if they will publish it at all, and at 
 their own risk I should not stand out for any other terms. 
 ' Nothing great, said Dryden, ' ever came from a venal pen ! ' '
 
 THE CAXTONS. 137 
 
 " An uncommonly foolish observation of Dryden's," returned 
 Uncle Jack ; " he ought to have known better." 
 
 " So he did," said I, " for he used his pen to fill his pockets 
 poor man ! " 
 
 " But the pen was not venal, Master Anachronism," said my 
 father. " A baker is not to be called venal if he sells his 
 loaveshe is venal if he sells himself : Dryden only sold his 
 loaves." 
 
 " And we must sell yours," said Uncle Jack emphatically. 
 " A thousand pounds a volume will be about the mark, eh ?" 
 
 " A thousand pounds a volume ? " cried my father. " Gib- 
 bon, I fancy, did not receive more." 
 
 " Very likely ; Gibbon had not an Uncle Jack to look after 
 his interests," said Mr. Tibbets, laughing and rubbing those 
 smooth hands of his. " No ! two thousand pounds the two 
 volumes ! A sacrifice, but still I recommend moderation." 
 
 " I should be happy, indeed, if the book brought in any- 
 thing," said my father, evidently fascinated, " for that young 
 gentleman is rather expensive ; and you, my dear Jack per- 
 haps half the sum may be of use to you ! " 
 
 " To me ! my dear brother," cried Uncle Jack " to me ! 
 Why. when my new speculation has succeeded, I shall be a 
 millionnaire ! " 
 
 "Have you a new speculation, uncle? "said I anxiously. 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " Mum ! " said my uncle, putting his finger to his lip, and 
 looking all round the room " Mum ! ! Mum ! ! " 
 
 PISISTRATUS. A Grand National Company for blowing up 
 both Houses of Parliament ! 
 
 MR. CAXTON. Upon my life, I hope something newer 
 than that ; for they, to judge by the newspapers, don't want 
 Brother Jack's assistance to blow up each other ! 
 
 UNCLE JACK (mysteriously). Newspapers ! you don't 
 often read a newspaper, Austin Caxton ! 
 
 MR. CAXTON. Granted, John Tibbets ! 
 
 UNCLE JACK. But if my speculation make you read a 
 newspaper every day ? 
 
 MR. CAXTON (astounded). Make me read a newspaper 
 every day ! 
 
 UNCLE JACK (warming, and expanding his hands to the 
 fire). As big as the Times ! 
 
 MR. CAXTON (uneasily). Jack, you alarm me ! 
 
 UNCLE JACK. And make you write in it too a leader ! 
 
 MR. CAXTON, pushing back his chair, seizes the only weapon
 
 138 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 at his command, and hurls at Uncle Jack a great sentence of 
 Greek : Tov ? jtev yap sivai ^aAfTrof , ode nai av^pono- 
 (payeiv ! * 
 
 UNCLE JACK (nothing daunted) Ay, and put as much 
 Greek as you like into it ! 
 
 MR. CAXTON (relieved and softening). My dear Jack, you 
 are a great man let us hear you ! 
 
 Then Uncle Jack began. Now, perhaps my readers may 
 have remarked that this illustrious speculator was really for- 
 tunate in his ideas. His speculations in themselves always had 
 something sound in the kernel, considering how barren they 
 were in the fruit ; and this it was that made him so dangerous. 
 The idea Uncle Jack had now got hold of will, I am convinced, 
 make a man's fortune one of these days ; and I relate it with 
 a sigh, in thinking how much has gone out of the family. 
 Know, then, it was nothing less than setting up a daily paper 
 on the plan of the Times, but devoted entirely to Art, Litera- 
 ture, and Science Mental Progress, in short ; I say on the 
 plan of the Times, for it was to imitate the mighty machinery 
 of that diurnal illuminator. It was to be the Literary Salmo- 
 neus of the Political Jupiter ; and rattle its thunder over the 
 bridge of knowledge. It was to have correspondents in all 
 parts of the globe ; everything that related to the chronicle of 
 the mind, from the labor of the missionary in the South Sea 
 Islands, or the research of a traveller in pursuit of that mirage 
 called Timbtictoo, to the last new novel at Paris, or the last 
 great emendation of a Greek particle of a German university, 
 was to find a place in this focus of light. It was to amuse, to 
 instruct, to interest there was nothing it was not to do. Not 
 a man in the whole reading public, not only of the three king- 
 doms, not only of the British empire, but under the cope of 
 heaven, that it was not to touch somewhere, in head, in heart, 
 or in pocket. The most crotchety member of the intellectual 
 community might find his own hobby in ihose stables. 
 
 " Think," cried Uncle Jack " think of the march of mind ; 
 think of the passion for cheap knowledge ; think how little 
 quarterly, monthly, weekly journals can keep pace with the 
 main wants of the age. As well have a weekly journal on 
 politics, as a weekly journal on all the matters still more inter- 
 esting than politics to the mass of the public. My Literary 
 Times once started, people will wonder how they had ever lived 
 without it ! Sir, they have not lived without it ; they have 
 
 * " Some were so barbarous as to eat their own species." The sentence refers to the 
 Scythians, and is in Strabo. I mention the authority, for Strabo is not an author that any 
 man engaged on a less work than the History of Human Error is ejcoected to have by heart.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 139 
 
 vegetated ; they have lived in holes and caves, like the Trog- 
 gledikes." 
 
 "Troglodytes," said my father mildly "from trogle, a 
 cave and Jumi, to go under. They lived in Ethiopia, and 
 had their wives in common." 
 
 " As to the last point, I don't say that the public, poor creat- 
 ures, are as bad as that," said Uncle Jack candidly ; "but no 
 simile holds good in all its points. And the public are no less 
 Troggledummies, or whatever you call them, compared with 
 what they will be when living under the full light of my 
 Literary Times. Sir, it will be a revolution in the world. It 
 will bring literature out of the clouds into the parlor, the cot- 
 tage, the kitchen. The idlest dandy, the finest fine lady, will 
 find something to her taste ; the busiest man of the mart and 
 counter will find some acquisition to his practical knowledge. 
 The practical man will see the progress of divinity, medicine, 
 nay, even law. Sir, the Indian will read me under the banyan ; 
 I shall be in the seraglios of the East ; and over my sheets the 
 American Indian will smoke the calumet of peace. We shall 
 reduce politics to its proper level in the affairs of life, raise 
 literature to its due place in the thoughts and business of men. 
 It is a grand thought ; and my heart swells with pride while I 
 contemplate it ! " 
 
 " My dear Jack," said my father seriously, and rising with 
 emotion, " it is a grand thought, and I honor you for it. You 
 are quite right it would be a revolution ! It would educate 
 mankind insensibly. Upon my life, I should be proud to 
 write a leader, or a paragraph. Jack, you will immortalize 
 yourself ! " 
 
 " I believe I shall," said Uncle Jack modestly ; " but I have 
 not said a word yet on the greatest attraction of all " 
 
 " Ah ! and that " 
 
 " THE ADVERTISEMENTS ! " cried my uncle, spreading his 
 hands with all the fingers at angles, like the threads of a 
 spider's web. " The advertisements oh, think of them ! a 
 perfect El Dorado. The advertisements, sir, on the most mod- 
 erate calculation, will bring us in ^50,000 a year. My dear Pisis- 
 tratus, I shall never marry ; you are my heir. Embrace me ! " 
 
 So saying, my Uncle Jack threw himself upon me, and 
 squeezed out of breath the prudential demur that was rising 
 to my lips. 
 
 My poor mother, between laughing and sobbing, faltered 
 out : " And it is my brother who will pay back to his son all 
 all he gave up for me ! "
 
 140 THE CAXTOMS. 
 
 While my father walked to and fro the room, more excited 
 than ever I saw him before, muttering : " A sad, useless dog I 
 have been hitherto ! I should like to serve the world ! I 
 should indeed ! " 
 
 Uncle Jack had fairly done it this time. He had found out 
 the only bait in the world to catch so shy a carp as my father 
 " heeret lethalis arundo." I saw that the deadly hook was within 
 an inch of my father's nose, and that he was gazing at it with 
 a fixed determination to swallow. 
 
 But if it amused my father? Boy that I was, I saw no 
 further. I must own I myself was dazzled, and, perhaps, with 
 childlike malice, delighted at the perturbation of my betters. 
 The young carp was pleased to see the waters so playfully in 
 movement, when the old carp waved his tail, and swayed him- 
 self on his fins. 
 
 " Mum ! " said Uncle Jack, releasing me ; " not a word to 
 Mr. Trevanion, to any one." 
 
 " But why?" 
 
 " Why ? God bless my soul ! Why ? If my scheme gets 
 wind, do you suppose some one will not clap on sail to be 
 before me ? You frighten me out of my senses. Promise me 
 faithfully to be silent as the grave " 
 
 " I should like to hear Trevanion's opinion too " 
 
 " As well hear the town crier ! Sir, I have trusted to your 
 honor. Sir, at the domestic hearth all secrets are sacred. 
 Sir, I" 
 
 " My dear Uncle Jack, you have said quite enough. Not a 
 word will I breathe ! " 
 
 "I'm sure you may trust him, Jack," said my mother. 
 
 " And I do trust him with wealth untold," replied my 
 uncle. " May I ask you for a little water, with a trifle of 
 brandy in it, and a biscuit, or indeed a sandwich. This talk- 
 ing makes me quite hungry." 
 
 My eye fell upon Uncle Jack as he spoke. Poor Uncle 
 Jack, he had grown thin ! 
 
 PART SEVENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SAITH DR. Luther : " When I saw Dr. Code begin to tell 
 his puddings hanging in the chimney, I told him he would not 
 fcve long ! "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 14! 
 
 I wish I had copied that passage from " The Table Talk " 
 in large round hand, and se't it before my father at breakfast, 
 the morn preceding that fatal eve in which Uncle Jack per- 
 suaded him to tell his puddings. 
 
 Yet, now I think of it, Uncle Jack huug the puddings in 
 the chimney but he did not not persuade my father to tell 
 them. 
 
 Beyond a vague surmise that half the suspended " toma- 
 cula " would furnish a breakfast to Uncle Jack, and that the 
 youthful appetite of Pisistratus would despatch the rest, my 
 father did not give a thought to the nutritious properties of 
 the puddings in other words, to the two thousand pounds 
 which, thanks to Mr. Tibbets, dangled down the chimney. So 
 far as the Great Work was concerned, my father only cared for 
 its publication, not its profits. I will not say that he might not 
 hunger for praise, but I am quite sure that he did not care a 
 button for pudding. Nevertheless, it was an infaust and sinis- 
 ter augury for Austin Caxton, the very appearance, the very 
 suspension and danglement of any puddings whatsoever, right 
 over his ingle-nook, when those puddings were made by the 
 sleek hands of Uncle Jack ! None of the puddings which he, 
 p.oor man, had all his life been stringing, whether from his own 
 chimneys, or the chimneys of other people, had turned out to 
 be real puddings ; they had always been the eidola, the erschu'- 
 nungen, the phantoms and semblances of puddings. I ques- 
 tion if Uncle Jack knew much about Democritus of Abdera. 
 But he was certainly tainted with the philosophy of that fan- 
 ciful sage. He peopled the air with images of colossal stature, 
 which impressed all his dreams and divinations, and from 
 whose influences came his very sensations and thoughts. His 
 whole being, asleep or waking, was thus but the reflection of 
 great phantom puddings ! 
 
 As soon as Mr. Tibbets had possessed himself of the two 
 volumes of the " History of Human Error," he had necessarily 
 established that hold upon my father which hitherto those 
 lubricate hands of his had failed to effect. Be had found 
 what he had so long sighed for in vain, his point d'appui, 
 wherin to fix the Archimedian screw. He fixed it tight in 
 the " History of Human Error," and moved the Caxtonian 
 world. 
 
 A day or two after the conversation recorded in my last 
 chapter, I saw Uncle Jack coming out of the mahogany doors 
 of my father's banker ; and, from that time, there seemed no 
 reason why Mr. Tibbets should not visit his relations on week
 
 142 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 days as well as Sundays. Not a day, indeed, passed but what 
 he held long conversations with my father. He had much to 
 reoort of his interviews with the publishers. In these con- 
 versations he naturally recurred to that grand idea of the 
 Literary Times, which had so dazzled my poor father's imag- 
 ination ; and, having heated the iron, Uncle Jack was too 
 knowing a man not to strike while it was hot. 
 
 When I think of the simplicity my wise father exhibited in this 
 crisis of his life, I must own that I am less moved by pity than 
 admiration for that poor, great-hearted student. We have seen 
 that out of the learned indolence of twenty years, the ambi- 
 tion which is the instinct of a man of genius had emerged ; 
 the serious preparation of the Great Book for the perusal of 
 the world had insensibly restored the claims of that noisy 
 world on the silent individual. And therewith came a noble 
 remorse that he had hitherto done so little for his species. 
 Was it enough to write quartos upon the past history of 
 Human Error ? Was it not his duty, when the occasion was 
 fairly presented, to enter upon that present, daily, hourly war 
 with Error, which is the sworn chivalry of Knowledge ? St. 
 George did not dissect dead dragons, he fought the live one. 
 And London, with that magnetic atmosphere which in great 
 capitals fills the breath of life with stimulating particles, had 
 its share in quickening the slow pulse of the student. In 
 the country, he read but his old authors, and lived with 
 them through the gone ages. In the city, my father, dur- 
 ing the intervals of repose from the Great Book, and still 
 more now that the Great Book had come to a pause, inspected 
 the literature of his own time. It had a prodigious effect 
 upon him. He was unlike the ordinary run of scholars, 
 and, indeed, of readers for that matter, who, in their super- 
 stitious homage to the dead, are always willing enough to 
 sacrifice the living. He did justice to the marvellous fer- 
 tility of intellect which characterizes the authorship of the 
 present age. By the present age, I do not only mean the 
 present day, I commence with the century. " What," said my 
 father one day in dispute with Trevanion " what charac- 
 terizes the literature of our time is its human interest. It is 
 true that we do not see scholars addressing scholars, but men 
 addressing men ; not that scholars are fewer, but that the 
 reading public is more large. Authors in all ages address 
 themselves to what interests their readers ; the same things do 
 not interest a vast community which interested half a score of 
 monks or bookworms. The literary polls was once an oli-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 143 
 
 garchy, it is now a republic. It is the general brilliancy of the 
 atmosphere which prevents your noticing the size of any par- 
 ticular star. Do you not see that with the cultivation of the 
 masses has awakened the Literature of the affections ? Every 
 sentiment finds an expositor, every feeling an oracle. Like 
 Epimenides, I have been sleeping in a cave ; and, waking, I 
 see those whom I left children are bearded men ; and towns 
 have sprung up in the landscapes which I left as solitary 
 wastes." 
 
 Thence, the reader may perceive the causes of the change 
 which had come over my father. As Robert Hall says, I 
 think of Dr. Kippis, " he had laid so many books at the top 
 of his head, that the brains could not move." But the elec- 
 tricity had now penetrated the heart, and the quickened vigor 
 of that noble organ enabled the brain to stir. Meanwhile, I 
 leave my father to these influences, and to the continuous con- 
 versations of Uncle Jack, and proceed with the thread of my 
 own egotism. 
 
 Thanks to Mr. Trevanion, my habits were not those which 
 favor friendships with the idle, but I formed some acquaint- 
 ances amongst young men a few years older than myself, who 
 held subordinate situations in the public offices, or were keep- 
 ing their terms for the bar. There was no want of ability 
 amongst these gentlemen ; but they had not yet settled into 
 the stern prose of life. Their busy hours only made them 
 more disposed to enjoy the hours of relaxation. And when 
 we got together, a very gay, light-hearted set we were ! We 
 had neither money enough to be very extravagant, nor leisure 
 enough to be very dissipated ; but we amused ourselves not- 
 withstanding. My new friends were wonderfully erudite in all 
 matters connected with the theatres. From an opera to a 
 ballet, from Hamlet to the last farce from the French, they had 
 the literature of the stage at the finger-ends of their straw- 
 colored gloves. They had a pretty large acquaintance with 
 actors and actresses, and were perfect Walpoluli in the minor 
 scandals of the day. To do them justice, however, they were 
 not indifferent to the more masculine knowledge necessary in 
 " this wrong world." They talked as familiarly of the real 
 actors of life as of the sham ones. They could adjust to a 
 hair the rival pretensions of contending statesmen. They did 
 not profess to be deep in the mysteries of foreign cabinets 
 (with the exception of one young gentleman connected with 
 the Foreign Office, who prided himself on knowing exactly 
 what the Russians meant to do with India when they got
 
 144 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 it !) ; but, to make amends, the majority of them had pene- 
 trated the closest secrets of our own. It is true that, accord- 
 ing to a proper subdivision of labor, each took some particu- 
 lar member of the government for his special observation ; just 
 as the most skilful surgeons, however profoundly versed in the 
 general structure of our frame, rest their anatomical fame on 
 the light they throw on particular parts of it one man taking 
 the brain, another the duodenum, a third the spinal cord, while 
 a fourth, perhaps, is a master of all the symptoms indicated by 
 a pensile ringer. Accordingly, one of my friends appropriated 
 to himself the Home Department ; another the Colonies ; and 
 a third, whom we all regarded as a future Talleyrand (or a 
 De Retz at least), had devoted himself to the special study of 
 Sir Robert Peel, and knew, by the way in which that profound 
 and inscrutable statesman threw open his coat, every thought 
 that was passing in his breast ! Whether lawyers or officials, 
 they all had a great idea of themselves high notions of what 
 they were to be, rather than what they were to do, some day. 
 As the king of modern fine gentlemen said of himself, in para- 
 phrase of Voltaire, " they had letters in their pockets addressed 
 to Posterity, which the chances were, however, that they might 
 forget to deliver." Somewhat " priggish " most of them might 
 be ; but, on the whole, they were far more interesting than 
 mere idle men of pleasure. There was about them, as features 
 of a general family likeness, a redundant activity of life, a gay 
 exuberance of ambition, a light-hearted earnestness when at 
 work, a schoolboy's enjoyment of the hours of play. 
 
 A great contrast to these young men was Sir Sedley Beau- 
 desert, who was pointedly kind to me, and whose bachelor's 
 house was always open to me after noon ; Sir Sedley was visi- 
 ble to no one but his valet before that hour. A perfect bach- 
 elor's house it was, too, with its windows opening on the Park, 
 and sofas niched into the windows, on which you might loll at 
 your ease, like the philosopher in Lucretius : 
 
 " Despicere unde queas alios, passimque videre, 
 Errare " 
 
 and see the gay crowds ride to and fro Rotten Row without 
 the fatigue of joining them, especially if the wind was in the 
 east. 
 
 There was no affectation of costliness about the rooms, but 
 a wonderful accumulation of comfort. Every patent chair 
 that proffered a variety in the art of lounging found its place 
 there ; and near every chair a little table, on which you might
 
 THE CAXTONS. 145 
 
 deposit your book or your coffee-cup, without the trouble of 
 moving more than your hand. In winter, nothing warmer than 
 the quilted curtains and Axminster carpets can be conceived. 
 In summer nothing airier and cooler than the muslin draperies 
 and the Indian mattings. And I defy a man to know to what 
 perfection dinner may be brought unless he had dined with 
 Sir Sedley Beaudesert. Certainly, if that distinguished per- 
 sonage had but been an egotist, he had been the happiest of 
 men. But, unfortunately for him, he was singularly amiable 
 and kind-hearted. He had the bonne digestion, but not 
 the other requisite for worldly felicity, the mauvais cczur. 
 He felt a sincere pity for every one else who lived in rooms 
 without patent chairs and little coffee tables ; whose windows 
 did not look on the Park, with sofas niched into their recesses. 
 As Henry IV. wished every man to have his pot au feu, so Sir 
 Sedley Beaudesert, if he could have had his way, would have 
 every man served with an early cucumber for his fish, and a 
 caraffe of iced water by the side of his bread and cheese. He 
 thus evinced on politics a naive simplicity, which delightfully 
 contrasted his acuteness on matters of taste. I remember his 
 saying, in a discussion on the Beer Bill: "The poor ought 
 not to be allowed to drink beer, it is so particularly rheumatic ! 
 The best drink in hard work is dry champagne (not mousseuoc] 
 I found that out when I used to shoot on the moors." 
 
 Indolent as Sir Sedley was, he had contrived to open an 
 extraordinary number of drains on his wealth. 
 
 First, as a landed proprietor, there was no end to applica- 
 tions from distressed farmers, aged poor, benefit societies, and 
 poachers he had thrown out of employment by giving up his 
 preserves to please his tenants. 
 
 Next, as a man of pleasure, the whole race of womankind had 
 legitimate demands on him. From a distressed duchess, whose 
 picture lay perdu under a secret spring of his snuff-box, to a 
 decayed laundress, to whom he might have paid a compliment 
 on the perfect involutions of a frill, it was quite sufficient to be 
 a daughter of Eve to establish a just claim on Sir Sedley's 
 inheritance from Adam. 
 
 Again, as an amateur of art, and a respectful servant of 
 every muse, all whom the public had failed to patronize 
 painter, actor, poet, musician turned, like dying sunflowers 
 to the sun, towards the pitying smile of Sir Sedley Beaudesert. 
 Add to these the general miscellaneous multitude, who " had 
 heard of Sir Sedley's high character for benevolence, "and one 
 may well suppose what a very costly reputation he had set up.
 
 146 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 In fact, though Sir Sedley could not spend on what might 
 fairly be called " himself," a fifth part of his very handsome 
 income, I have no doubt that he found it difficult to make 
 both ends meet at the close of the year. That he did so, he 
 owed perhaps to two rules which his philosophy had peremp- 
 torily adopted. He never made debts, and he never gambled. 
 For both these admirable aberrations from the ordinary routine 
 of fine gentlemen, I believe he was indebted to the softness of 
 his disposition. He had a great compassion for a wretch who 
 was dunned. " Poor fellow ! " he would say, " it must be so 
 painful to him to pass his life in saying No." So little did he 
 know about that class of promisers as if a man dunned ever 
 said No. As Beau Brummell, when asked if he was fond of 
 vegetables, owned that he had once ate a pea, so Sir Sedley 
 Beaudesert owned that he had once played high at piquet. 
 " I was so unlucky as to win," said he, referring to that indis- 
 cretion, " and I shall never forget the anguish on the face of 
 the man who paid me. Unless I could always lose, it would be 
 a perfect purgatory to play." 
 
 Now nothing could be more different in their kinds of bene- 
 volence than Sir Sedley and Mr. Trevanion. Mr. Trevanion 
 had a great contempt for individual charity. He rarely put 
 his hand into his purse he drew a great check on his bankers. 
 Was a congregation without a church, or a village without a 
 school, or a river without a bridge, Mr. Trevanion set to work 
 on calculations, found out the exact sum required by an alge- 
 braic x -y, and paid it as he would have paid his butcher. It 
 must be owned that the distress of a man, whom he allowed 
 to be deserving, did not appeal to him in vain. But it is 
 astonishing how little he spent in that way. For it was hard, 
 indeed, to convince Mr, Trevanion that a deserving man ever 
 was in such distress as to want charity. 
 
 That Trevanion, nevertheless, did infinitely more real good 
 than Sir Sedley, I believe ; but he did it as a mental opera- 
 tion by no means as an impulse from the heart. I am sorry 
 to say that the main difference was this : distress always 
 seemed to accumulate round Sir Sedley, and vanish from the 
 presence of Trevanion. Where the last came, with his busy, 
 active, searching mind, energy woke, improvement sprang up. 
 Where the first came, with his warm, kind heart, a kind of tor- 
 por spread under its rays ; people lay down and basked in the 
 liberal sunshine. Nature in one broke forth like a brisk, sturdy 
 winter, in the other like a lazy Italian summer. Winter is an ex- 
 cellent invigorator, no doubt, but we all love summer better.
 
 THE CAXTON3. 147 
 
 Now, it is a proof how lovable Sir Sedley was, that I loved 
 him, and yet was jealous of him. Of all the satellites round 
 my fair Cynthia, Fanny Trevanion, I dreaded most this amia- 
 ble luminary. It was in vain for me to say with the insolence 
 of youth that Sir Sedley Beaudesert was of the same age as 
 Fanny's father ; to see them together, he might have passed 
 for Trevanion's son. No one amongst the younger genera- 
 tion was half so handsome as Sedley Beaudesert. He might 
 be eclipsed at first sight by the showy effect of more redun- 
 dant locks and more brilliant bloom. But he had but to speak, 
 to smile, in order to throw a whole cohort of dandies into the 
 shade. It was the expression of his countenance that was so 
 bewitching; there was something so kindly in its easy candor, 
 its benign good-nature. And he understood women so well! 
 He flattered their foibles so insensibly ; he commanded their 
 affection with so gracious a dignity. Above all, what with his 
 accomplishments, his peculiar reputation, his long celibacy, 
 and the soft melancholy of his sentiments, he always contrived 
 to interest them. There was not a charming woman by whom 
 this charming man did not seem just on the point of being 
 caught ! It was like the sight of a splendid trout in a trans- 
 parent stream, sailing pensively to and fro your fly, in a will 
 and a wont sort of way. Such a trout ! It would be a thousand 
 pities to leave him, when evidently so well disposed ! That 
 trout, fair maid, or gentle widow, would have kept you whip- 
 ping the stream and dragging the fly from morning to dewy 
 eve. Certainly I don't wish worse to my bitterest foe of five- 
 and-twenty than such a rival as Sedley Beaudesert at seven- 
 and-forty. 
 
 Fanny, indeed, perplexed me horribly. Sometimes I fancied 
 she liked me ; but the fancy scarce thrilled me with delight 
 before it vanished in the frost of a careless look, or the cold 
 beam of a sarcastic laugh. Spoiled darling of the world as 
 she was, she seemed so innocent in her exuberant happiness, 
 that one forgot all her faults in that atmosphere of joy which 
 she diffused around her. And, despite her pretty insolence, 
 she had so kind a woman's heart below the surface ! When 
 she once saw that she had pained you, she was so soft, so win- 
 ning, so humble, till she had healed the wound. But then, if 
 she saw she had pleased you too much, the little witch was 
 neve: easy till she had plagued you again. As heiress to so 
 rich a father, or rather perhaps mother (for the fortune came 
 from Lady Ellinor), she was naturally surrounded with admirers 
 not wholly disinterested. She did right to plague them but
 
 148 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 ME ! Poor boy that I was, why should I seem more disin- 
 terested than others ! How should she perceive all that lay hid 
 in my young, deep heart ? Was 1 not in all worldly pretensions 
 the least worthy of her admirers, and might 1 not seem, there- 
 fore, the most mercenary ? I who never thought of her for- 
 tune, or, if that thought did come across me, it was to make 
 me start and turn pale ! And then it vanished at her first 
 glance, as a ghost from the dawn. How hard it is to convince 
 youth, that sees all the world of the future before it, and covers 
 that future with golden palaces, of the inequalities of life ! In 
 my fantastic and sublime romance, I looked out into that 
 Great Beyond, saw myself orator, statesman, minister, ambas- 
 sador Heaven knows what laying laurels, which I mistook 
 for rent-rolls, at Fanny's feet. 
 
 Whatever Fanny might have discovered as to the state of 
 my heart, it seemed an abyss not worth prying into by either 
 T re van ion or Lady Ellinor. The first, indeed, as may be sup- 
 posed, was too busy to think of such trifles. And Lady Eliinor 
 treated me as a mere boy almost like a boy of her own, she 
 was so kind to me. But she did not notice much the things 
 that lay immediately around her. In brilliant conversation 
 with poets, wits, and statesmen ; in sympathy with the toils of 
 her husband, or proud schemes for his aggrandizement, Lady 
 Ellinor lived a life of excitement. Those large, eager, shining 
 eyes of hers, bright with some feverish discontent, looked far 
 abroad as if for new worlds to conquer the world at her feet 
 escaped from her vision. She loved her daughter, she was 
 proud of her, trusted in her with a superb repose she did not 
 watch over her. Lady Ellinor stood alone on a mountain, 
 and amidst a cloud. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ONE day the Trevanions had all gone into the country, on 
 a visit to a retired minister, distantly related to Lady Ellinor, 
 and who was one of the few persons Trevanion himself conde- 
 scended to consult. I had almost a holiday. I went to call 
 on Sir Sedley Beaudesert. I had always longed to sound him 
 on one subject, and had never dared. This time I resolved to 
 pluck up courage. 
 
 "Ah, my young friend ! "said he, rising from the contem- 
 plation of a villanous picture by a young artist, which he had 
 just benevolently purchased, " I was thinking of you this 
 morning. Wait a moment, Summers (this to the valet). Be
 
 THE CAXTONS. 149 
 
 so good as to take this picture, let it be packed up and go down 
 into the country. It is a sort of picture," he added, turning 
 to me, " that requires a large house. I have an old gallery 
 with little casements that let in no light. It is astonishing how 
 convenient I have found it ! " As soon as the picture was 
 gone, Sir Sedley drew a long breath, as if relieved ; and 
 resumed more gayly : 
 
 " Yes, I was thinking of you ; and if you will forgive any 
 interference in your affairs from your father's old ftiend I 
 should be greatly honored by your permission to ask Trevan- 
 ion what he supposes is to be the ultimate benefit of the hor- 
 rible labors he inflicts upon you " 
 
 " But, my dear Sir Sedley, I like the labors ; I am perfectly 
 contented " 
 
 " Not to remain always secretary to one who, if there were 
 no business to be done among men, would set about teaching 
 the ants to built hills upon better architectural principles ! My 
 dear sir, Trevanion is an awful man, a stupendous man one 
 catches fatigue if one is in the same room with him three min- 
 utes ! At your age, an age that ought to be so happy," con- 
 tinued Sir Sedley, with a compassion perfectly angelic, " it is 
 sad to see so little enjoyment ! " 
 
 " But, Sir Sedley, I assure you that you are mistaken. I 
 thoroughly enjoy myself ; and have I not heard even you con- 
 fess that one may be idle and not happy ? " 
 
 " I did not confess that till I was on the wrong side of 
 forty ! " said Sir Sedley, with a slight shade on his brow. 
 
 " Nobody would ever think you were on the wrong side of 
 forty ! " said I, with artful flattery, winding into my subject. 
 " Miss Trevanion, for instance ? " 
 
 I paused. Sir Sedley looked hard at me, from his bright, 
 dark-blue eyes. "Well, Miss Trevanion for instance? " 
 
 " Miss Trevanion, who has all the best-looking fellows in 
 London round her, evidently prefers you to any of them." 
 
 I said this with a great gulp. I was obstinately bent on 
 plumbing the depth of my own fears. 
 
 Sir Sedley rose ; he laid his hand kindly on mine, and said : 
 " Do not let Fanny Trevanion torment you even more than 
 her father does ! " 
 
 " I don't understand you, Sir Sedley ! " 
 
 " But if I understand you, that is more to the purpose. A 
 girl like Miss Trevanion is cruel till she discovers she has a 
 heart. It is not safe to risk one's own with any woman till she 
 has ceased to be a coquette. My dear young friend, if you
 
 150 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 took life less in earnest, I should spare you the pain of these 
 hints. Some men sow flowers, some plant trees you are 
 planting a tree under which you will soon find that no flower 
 will grow. Well and good, if the tree could last to bear fruit 
 and give shade ; but beware lest you have to tear it up one 
 day or other ; for then what then ? Why, you will find your 
 whole life plucked away with its roots ! " 
 
 Sir Sedley said these last words with so serious an emphasis 
 that I was startled from the confusion I had felt at the former 
 part of his address. He paused long, tapped his snuff-box, 
 inhaled a pinch slowly, and continued, with his more accus- 
 tomed sprightliness. 
 
 " Go as much as you can into the world again I say ' enjoy 
 yourself.' And again I ask, what is all this labor to do for 
 you ? On some men, far less eminent than Trevanion, it would 
 impose a duty to aid you in a practical career, to secure you 
 a public employment not so on him. He would not mort- 
 gage an inch of his independence by asking a favor from a 
 minister. He so thinks occupation the delight of life, that he 
 occupies you out of pure affection. He does not trouble his 
 head about your future. He supposes your father will pro- 
 vide for that, and does not consider that meanwhile your work 
 leads to nothing ! Think over all this. I have now bored 
 you enough." 
 
 I was bewildered I was dumb : these practical men of the 
 world, how they take us by surprise ! Here had I come to 
 sound Sir Sedley, and here was I plumbed, gauged, measured, 
 turned inside out, without having got an inch beyond the sur- 
 face of that smiling, debonair, unruffled ease. Yet with his 
 invariable delicacy, in spite of all this horrible frankness, Sir 
 Sedley had not said a word to wound what he might think the 
 more sensitive part of my amour propre not a word as to the 
 inadequacy of my pretensions to think seriously of Fanny 
 Trevanion. Had we been the Celadon and Chloe of a country 
 village, he could not have regarded us as more equal, so far as 
 the world went. And for the rest, he rather insinuated that 
 poor Fanny, the great heiress, was not worthy of me, than that 
 I was not worthy of Fanny. 
 
 I felt that there was no wisdom in stammering and blushing 
 out denials and equivocations ; so I stretched my hand to Sir 
 Sedley, took up my hat, and went. Instinctively I bent my 
 way to my father's house. I had not been there for many 
 days. Not only had I had a great deal to do in the way of 
 business, but I am ashamed to say that pleasure itself had so
 
 THE CAXTONS. 15! 
 
 entangled my leisure hours, and Miss Trevanion especially so 
 absorbed them, that, without even uneasy foreboding, I had 
 left my father fluttering his wings more feebly and feebly in 
 the web of Uncle Jack. When I arrived in Russell Street, I 
 found the fly and the spider cheek-by-jowl together. Uncle 
 Jack sprang up at my entrance, and cried : " Congratulate 
 your father. Congratulate him! no; congratulate the 
 world ! " 
 
 " What, uncle ! " said I, with a dismal effort at sympathizing 
 liveliness, "is the Literary Times launched at last ? " 
 
 " Oh, that is all settled settled long since. Here's a speci- 
 men of the type we have chosen for the leaders." And Uncle 
 Jack, whose pocket was never without a wet sheet of some 
 kind or other, drew forth a steaming papyral monster, which 
 in point of size was to the political Times as a mammoth may 
 be to an elephant. " That is all settled. We are only prepar- 
 ing our contributors, and shall put out our programme next 
 week or the week after. No, Pisistratus, I mean the Great 
 Work." 
 
 " My dear father, I am so glad. What ! it is really sold 
 then ? " 
 
 " Hum ! " said my father. 
 
 " Sold ! " burst forth Uncle Jack. " Sold no, sir, we 
 would not sell it ! No : if all the booksellers fell down on 
 their knees to us, as they will some day, that book should not 
 be sold ! Sir, that book is a revolution it is an era it is the 
 emancipator of genius from mercenary thraldom THAT 
 BOOK ! " 
 
 I looked inquiringly from uncle to father, and mentally re- 
 tracted my congratulations. Then Mr. Caxton, slightly blush- 
 ing, and shyly rubbing his spectables, said : "You see, Pisi- 
 stratus, that though poor Jack has devoted uncommon pains 
 to induce the publishers to recognize the merit he has discov- 
 ered in the ' History of Human Error,' he has failed to 
 do so." 
 
 " Not a bit of it ; they all acknowledge its miraculous learn- 
 ing its " 
 
 " Very true ; but they don't think it will sell, and therefore 
 most selfishly refuse to buy it. One bookseller, indeed, of- 
 fered to treat for it if I would leave out all about the Hotter 
 tots and Caffres, the Greek philosophers and Egyptian priests, 
 and confining myself solely to polite society, entitle the work 
 * Anecdotes of the Courts of Europe, ancient and modern.' " 
 
 " The wretnh. 1 " groaned Uncle Jack.
 
 152 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Another thought it might be cut up into little essays, 
 leaving out the quotations, entitled ' Men and Manners.' A 
 third was kind enough to observe, that though this particular 
 work was quite unsalable, yet, as I appeared to have some his- 
 torical information, he should be happy to undertake a his- 
 torical romance from 'my graphic pen ' that was the phrase, 
 was it not, Jack ? " 
 
 Jack was too full to speak. 
 
 "Provided I would introduce a proper love-plot, and 
 make it into three volumes post octavo, twenty-three lines in 
 a page, neither more nor less. One honest fellow at last was 
 found, who seemed to me a very respectable and indeed enter- 
 prising person. And after going through a list of calcula- 
 tions, which showed that no possible profit could arise, he 
 generously offered to give me half of those no-profits, pro- 
 vided I would guarantee half the very visible expenses. I 
 was just meditating the prudence of accepting this proposal 
 when your uncle was seized with a sublime idea, which has 
 whisked up my book in a whirlwind of expectation." 
 
 " And that idea?" said I despondently. 
 
 " That idea," quoth Uncle Jack, recovering himself, " is 
 simply and shortly this. From time immemorial, authors have 
 been the prey of the publishers. Sir, authors have lived in 
 garrets, nay, have been choked in the street by an unexpected 
 crumb of bread, like the man who wrote the play, poor 
 fellow ! " 
 
 " Otway," said my father. " The story is not true no 
 matter." 
 
 " Milton, sir, as everybody knows, sold ' Paradise Lost' for ten 
 pounds ten pounds, sir ! In short, instances of a like nature 
 are too numerous to quote. But the booksellers, sir they are 
 leviathans they roll in seas of gold. They subsist upon au- 
 thors as vampires upon little children. But at last endurance 
 has reached its limit ; the fiat has gone forth ; the tocsin of 
 liberty has resounded authors have burst their fetters. And 
 we have just inaugurated the institution of ' THE GRAND 
 ANTI-PUBLISHER CONFEDERATE AUTHORS' SOCIETY,' by 
 which, Pisistratus by which, mark you, every author is to be 
 his own publisher ; that is, every author who joins the Society. 
 No more submission of immortal works to mercenary calcula- 
 tors, to sordid tastes ! No more hard bargains and broken 
 hearts ! No more crumbs of bread choking great tragic 
 poets in the streets ! No more ' Paradise Lost ' sold at 
 ;io apiece ! The author brings his book to a select com-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 153 
 
 mittee appointed for the purpose ; men of delicacy, educa- 
 tion, and refinement authors themselves ; they read it, the 
 Society publish ; and after a modest deduction, which goes 
 toward the funds of the Society, the Treasurer hands over the 
 profits to the author." 
 
 " So that in fact, uncle, every author who can't find a pub- 
 lisher anywhere else, will of course come to the Society. The 
 fraternity will be numerous." 
 
 " It will indeed." 
 
 " And the speculation ruinous." 
 
 " Ruinous, why ? " 
 
 " Because, in all mercantile negotiations, it is ruinous to in- 
 vest capital in supplies which fail to demand. You undertake 
 to publish books that booksellers will not publish why ? Be- 
 cause booksellers can't sell them ! It is just probable that 
 you'll not sell them any better than the booksellers. Ergo, the 
 more your business, the larger your deficit. And the more nu- 
 merous your society, the more disastrous your condition. 
 Q.E.D." 
 
 " Pooh ! The select committee will decide what books are 
 to be published." 
 
 " Then, where the deuce is the advantage to the authors ! I 
 would as lief submit my work to a publisher as I would to a 
 select committee of authors. At all events, the publisher is 
 not my rival ; and I suspect he is the best judge, after all, of 
 a book an an accoucheur ought to be of a baby." 
 
 " Upon my word, nephew, you pay a bad compliment to 
 your father's Great Work, which the booksellers will have 
 nothing to do with." 
 
 That was artfully said, and I was posed ; when Mr. Caxton 
 observed, with an apologetic smile : 
 
 " The fact is, my dear Pisistratus, that I want my book pub- 
 lished without diminishing the little fortune I keep for you 
 some day. Uncle Jack starts a society so to publish it. 
 Health and long life to Uncle Jack's society ! One can't look 
 a gift horse in the mouth." 
 
 Here my mother entered, rosy from a shopping expedition 
 with Mrs. Primmins ; and in her joy at hearing that I could 
 stay dinner, all else was forgotten. By a wonder, which I 
 did not regret, Uncle Jack really was engaged to dine out. 
 He had other irons in the fire besides the Literary Times and 
 the " Confederate Authors' Society " ; he was deep in a scheme 
 for making house-tops of felt ( which, under other hands, 
 has, I believe, since succeeded); and he had found a rich
 
 154 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 man ( I suppose a hatter ) who seemed well inclined to the proj- 
 ect, and had actually asked him to dine and expound his 
 views. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HERE we three are seated round the open window, after 
 dinner, familiar as in the old happy time, and my mother is 
 talking low that she may not disturb my father, who seems in 
 thought. 
 
 Cr-cr-crrr-cr-cr-! I feel it I have it. Where ! What ! 
 Where ! Knock it down brush it off ! For Heaven's sake, 
 see to it ! Crrrr-crrrrr there here in my hair in my 
 sleeve in my ear. Cr-cr. 
 
 I say solemnly, and on the word of a Christian, that, as I sat 
 down to begin this chapter, being somewhat in a brown study, 
 the pen insensibly slipped from my hand, and leaning back in 
 my chair, I fell to gazing into the fire. It is the end of June, 
 and a remarkable cold evening, even for that time of year. 
 And while I was so gazing, I felt something crawling, just by 
 the nape of the neck, ma'am. Instinctively and mechanically, 
 and still musing, I put my hand there, and drew forth What? 
 That what it is which perplexes me. It was a thing a dark 
 thing a much bigger thing than I had expected. And the sight 
 took me so by surprise, that I gave my hand a violent shake, and 
 the thing went where I know not. The what and the where 
 are the knotty points in the whole question ! No sooner had 
 it gone than I was seized with repentance not to have 
 examined it more closely, not to have ascertained what the 
 creature was. It might have been an earwig a very large, 
 motherly earwig an earwig far gone in that way in which 
 earwigs wish to be who love their lords. I have a profound 
 horror of earwigs I firmly believe that they do get into the 
 ear. That is a subject on which it is useless to argue with me 
 upon philosophical grounds. I have a vivid recollection of a 
 story told me by Mrs. Primmins How a lady for many years 
 suffered under the most excruciating headaches ; how, as the 
 tombstones say, "physicians were in vain"; how she died; 
 and how her head was opened, and how such a nest of ear- 
 wigs ma'am such a nest ! Earwigs are the prolifickest 
 thing, and so fond of their offspring ! They sit on their eggs 
 like hens, and the young, as soon as they are born, creep 
 under them for protection quite touchingly ! Imagine such 
 an establishment domesticated at one's tympanum !
 
 THE CAXTONS. 155 
 
 But the creature was certainly larger than an earwig. It 
 might have been one of that genus in the family of Forficulidae, 
 called Labidoura monsters whose antennae have thirty joints ! 
 There is a species of this creature in England, but to the great 
 grief of naturalists, and to the great honor of Providence, very 
 rarely found, infinitely larger than the common earwig or 
 Forficulida auriculana. Could it have been an early hornet? 
 It had certainly a black head, and great feelers. I have a 
 greater horror of hornets, if possible, than I have of earwigs. 
 Two hornets will kill a man, and three a carriage-horse sixteen 
 hands high. However, the creature was gone. Yes, but 
 where ? Where had I so rashly thrown it ? It might have got 
 into a fold of my dressing-gown or into my slippers or, in 
 short, anywhere, in the various recesses for earwigs and horn- 
 ets which a gentleman's habiliments afford. I satisfy myself 
 at last, as far as I can, seeing that lam not alone in the room 
 that it is not upon me. I look upon the carper, the rug, the 
 chair, under the fender. It is non inventus. I barbarously 
 hope it is frizzing behind that great black coal in the grate. 
 I pluck up courage ; I prudently remove to the other end 
 of the room. I take up my pen I begin my chapter very 
 nicely, too, I think upon the whole. lam just getting into 
 my subject, when cr-cr-cr-cr-cr-crawl-crawl-crawl-creep 
 creep creep. Exactly, my dear ma'am, in the same place 
 it was before ! Oh, by the Powers ! I forgot all my scientific 
 regrets at not having scrutinized its genus before, whether 
 Forficulida or Labidoura. I made a desperate lunge with 
 both hands something between thrust and cut, ma'am. The 
 beast is gone. Yes, but again where ? I say that that where is a 
 very horrible question. Having come twice, in spite of all 
 my precautions and exactly on the same spot, too it shows 
 a confirmed disposition to habituate itself to its quarters, to 
 effect a parochial settlement upon me ; there is something 
 awful and preternatural in it. I assure you that there is not a 
 part of me that has not gone cr-cr-cr ! that has not 
 crept, and crawled, and forficulated ever since ; and I put it to 
 you what- sort of a chapter I can make after such a My good 
 little girl, will you just take the candle, and look carefully 
 under the table ? that's a dear ! Yes, my love, very black 
 indeed, with two horns, and inclined to be corpulent. Gentle- 
 men and ladies who have cultivated an acquaintance with the 
 Phoenician language, are aware that Belzebub, examined ety- 
 mologically and entomologically, is nothing more nor less than 
 Baalzebub " the Jupiter-fly " an emblem of the Destroying
 
 156 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Attribute, which attribute, indeed, is found in all the insect 
 tribes more or less. Wherefore, as Mr. Payne Knight, in his 
 " Inquiry into Symbolical Languages," hath observed, the 
 Egyptian priests shaved their whole bodies, even to their eye- 
 brows, lest unaware they should harbor any of the minor 
 Zebubs of the great Baal. If I were the least bit more per- 
 suaded that that black cr-cr were about me still, and that the 
 sacrifice of my eyebrows would deprive him of shelter, by the 
 souls of the Ptolemies ! I would and I will too. Ring the 
 bell, my little dear ! John, my my cigar-box ! There is not 
 a cr in the world that can abide the fumes of the Havanna ! 
 Pshaw ! sir, I am not the only man who lets his first thoughts 
 upon cold steel end, like this chapter, in Pff pff pff ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EVERYTHING in this world is of use, even a black thing 
 crawling over the nape of one's neck ! Grim unknown ! I 
 shall make of thee a simile ! 
 
 I think, ma'am, you will allow that if an accident such as I 
 have described had befallen yourself, and you had a proper 
 and lady-like horror of earwigs (however motherly and fond of 
 their offspring), and also of early hornets and indeed of all 
 unknown things of the insect tribe with black heads and two 
 great horns, or feelers, or forceps, just by your ear I think, 
 ma'am, you will allow that you would find it difficult to settle 
 back to your former placidity of mood and innocent stitch- 
 work. You would feel a something that grated on youf nerves, 
 and cr'd-cr'd "all over you like," as the children say. And 
 the worst is, that you would be ashamed to say it. You would 
 feel obliged to look pleased and join in the conversation, and 
 not fidget too much, nor always be shaking your flounces, and 
 looking into a dark corner of your apron. Thus it is with 
 many other things in life besides black insects. One has 
 a secret care an abstraction a something between the 
 memory and the feeling, of a dark, crawling cr, which one has 
 never dared to analyze. So I sat by my mother, trying to 
 smile and talk as in the old time, but longing to move about 
 and look around, and escape to my own solitude, and take the 
 clothes off my mind, and see what it was that had so troubled 
 and terrified me for trouble and terror were upon me. And 
 my mother, who was always (Heaven bless her !) inquisitive 
 enough in all that concerned her darling Anachronism, was 
 especially inquisitive that evening. She made me say where I
 
 THE CAXTONS. 157 
 
 had been, and what I had done, and how I had spent my time' 
 and Fanny Trevanion (whom she had seen, by the way, three 
 or four times, and whom she thought the prettiest person in 
 the world) oh, she must know exactly what I thought of 
 Fanny Trevanion ! 
 
 And all this while my father seemed in thought ; and so, 
 with my arm over my mother's chair, and my hand in hers, I 
 answered my mother's questions sometimes by a stammer, 
 sometimes by a violent effort at volubility ; when at some in- 
 terrogatory that went tingling right to my heart, I turned 
 uneasily, and there were my father's eyes fixed on mine. 
 Fixed as they had been when, and none knew why, I pined 
 and languished, and my father said " he must go to school." 
 Fixed, with quiet, watchful tenderness. Ah, no ! his thoughts 
 had not been on the Great Work he had been deep in the 
 pages of that less worthy one for which he had yet more an 
 author's paternal care. I met those eyes, and yearned to throw 
 myself on his heart and tell him all. Tell him what ? Ma'am, 
 I no more knew what to tell him, than I know what that black 
 thing was which has so worried me all this blessed evening ! 
 
 " Pisistratus," said my father softly, "I fear you have for- 
 gotten the saffron bag." 
 
 " No, indeed, sir," said I, smiling. 
 
 " He," resumed my father " he who wears the saffron 
 bag has more cheerful, settled spirits than you seem to have, 
 my boy." 
 
 " My dear Austin, his spirits are very good, I think," said my 
 mother anxiously. 
 
 My father shook his head then he took two or three turns 
 about the room. 
 
 " Shall I ring for candles, sir? It is getting dark : you will 
 wish to read ? " 
 
 " No, Pisistratus, it is you who shall read, and this hour of 
 twilight best suits the book I am about to open to you." 
 
 So saying, he drew a chair between me and my mother, and 
 seated himself gravely, looking down a long time in silence, 
 then turning his eyes to each of us alternately. 
 
 " My dear wife," said he at length, almost solemnly, " I am 
 going to speak of myself as 1 was before I knew you." 
 
 Even in the twilight I saw that my mother's countenance 
 changed. 
 
 " You have respected my secrets, Katherine, tenderly, hon- 
 estly. Now the time is come when I can tell them to you and 
 to our son."
 
 158 THE CAXTONSo 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MY FATHER S FIRST LOVE 
 
 " I LOST my mother early ; my father (a good man, but who 
 was so indolent that he rarely stirred from his chair, and who 
 often passed whole days without speaking, like an Indian der- 
 vish) left Roland and myself to educate ourselves much ac- 
 cording to our own tastes. Roland shot, and hunted, and 
 fished ; read all the poetry and books of chivalry to be found 
 in my father's collection, which was rich in such matters, and 
 made a great many copies of the old pedigree the only thing 
 in which my father ever evinced much vital interest. Early in 
 life I conceived a passion for graver studies, and by good luck 
 I found a tutor in Mr. Tibbets, who, but for his modesty, Kitty, 
 would have rivalled Person. He was a second Budaeus for 
 industry, and by the way, he said exactly the same thing that 
 Budseus did, viz., ' that the only lost day in his life was that in 
 which he was married ; for on that day he had only had six 
 hours for reading ! ' Under such a master I could not fail to 
 be a scholar. I came from the university with such distinc- 
 tion as led me to look sanguinely on my career in the world. 
 
 " I returned to my father's quiet rectory to pause and consider 
 what path I should take to fame. The rectory was just at the 
 foot of the hill, on the brow of which were the ruins of the castle 
 Roland has since purchased. And though I did not feel for 
 the ruins the same romantic veneration as my dear brother (for 
 my day-dreams were more colored by classic than feudal rec- 
 ollections), I yet loved to climb the hill, book in hand, and 
 built my castles in the air amidst the wrecks of that which 
 time had shattered on the earth. 
 
 " One day, entering the old, weed-grown court, I saw a lady 
 seated on my favorite spot, sketching the ruins. The lady 
 was young more beautiful than any woman I had yet seen, 
 at least to my eyes. In a word, I was fascinated, and, as 
 the trite phrase goes, 'spellbound.' I seated myself at a 
 little distance, and contemplated her without desiring to 
 speak. By and by, from another part of the ruins, which were 
 then uninhabited, came a tall, imposing, elderly gentleman, 
 with a benignant aspect ; and a little dog. The dog ran up 
 to me barking. This drew the attention of both lady and 
 gentleman to me. The gentleman approached, called off 
 the dog, and apologized with much politeness. Survey- 
 ing me somewhat curiously, he then began to ask ques-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 159 
 
 tions about the old place and the family it had belonged to, 
 with the name and the antecedents of which he was well 
 acquainted. By degrees it came out that I was the descend- 
 ant of that family, and younger son of the humble rector 
 who was now its representative. The gentleman then introduced 
 himself to me as the Earl of Rainsforth, the principal proprietor 
 in the neighborhood, but who had so rarely visited the county 
 during my childhood and earlier youth that I had never before 
 seen him. His only son, however, a young man of great 
 promise, had been at the same college with me in my first year 
 at the university. The young lord was a reading man and a 
 scholar ; and we had become slightly acquainted when he left 
 for his travels. 
 
 " Now, on hearing my name, Lord Rainsforth took my hand 
 cordially, and, leading me to his daughter, said: 'Think, 
 Ellinor, how fortunate ! This is the Mr. Caxton whom your 
 brother so often spoke of.' 
 
 " In short, my dear Pisistratus, the ice was broken, the 
 acquaintance made, and Lord Rainsforth, saying he was come 
 to atone for his long absence from the county, and to reside 
 at Compton the greater part of the year, pressed me to visit 
 him. I did so. Lord Rainsforth's liking to me increased ; I 
 went there often." 
 
 My father paused, and seeing my mother had fixed her 
 eyes upon him with a sort of mournful earnestness, and had 
 pressed her hands very tightly together, he bent down and 
 kissed her forehead. 
 
 " There is no cause, my child ! " said he. It was the only 
 time I ever heard him address my mother so parentally. But 
 then I never heard him before so grave and solemn not a 
 quotation, too it was incredible : it was not my father speak- 
 ing, it was another man. " Yes, I went there often. Lord 
 Rainsforth was a remarkable person. Shyness that was 
 wholly without pride (which is rare), and a love for quiet liter- 
 ary pursuits, had prevented his taking that personal part in 
 public life for which he was richly qualified ; but his reputa- 
 tion for sense and honor, and his personal popularity, had 
 given him no inconsiderable influence even, I believe, in the 
 formation of cabinets, and he had once been prevailed upon 
 to fill a high diplomatic situation abroad, in which I have no 
 doubt that he was as miserable as a good man can be under 
 any infliction. He was now pleased to retire from the world, 
 and look at it through the loopholes of retreat. Lord Rains- 
 forth had a great respect for talent, and a warm interest in
 
 IOO THE CAXTONS. 
 
 such of the young as seemed to him to possess it. By talent, 
 indeed, his family had risen, and were strikingly characterized. 
 His ancester, the first peer, had been a distinguished lawyer ; 
 his father had been celebrated for scientific attainments ; his 
 children, Ellinor and Lord Pendarvis, were highly accom- 
 plished. Thus the family identified themselves with the aris- 
 tocracy of intellect, and seemed unconscious of their claims to 
 the lower aristocracy of rank. You must bear this in mind 
 throughout my story. 
 
 " Lady Ellinor shared her father's tastes and habits of 
 thought (she was not then an heiress). Lord Rainsforth talked 
 to me of my career. It was a time when the French Revolu- 
 tion had made statesmen look round with some anxiety to 
 strengthen the existing order of things, by alliance with all in 
 the rising generation who evinced such ability as might 
 influence their contemporaries. 
 
 " University distinction is, or was formerly, among the pop- 
 ular passports to public life. By degrees, Lord Rainsforth 
 liked me so well as to suggest to me a seat in the House of 
 Commons. A member of Parliament might rise to anything, 
 and Lord Rainsforth had sufficient influence to effect my 
 return. Dazzling prospect this to a young scholar fresh from 
 Thucydides, and with Demosthenes fresh at his tongue's end. 
 My dear boy, I was not then, you see, quite what I am now ; 
 in a word, I loved Ellinor Compton, and therefore I was 
 ambitious. You know how ambitious she is still. But I could 
 not mould my ambition to hers. I could not contemplate 
 entering the senate of my country as a dependent on a party 
 or a patron as a man who must make his fortune there as a 
 man who, in every vote, must consider how much nearer he 
 advanced himself to emolument. I was not even certain that 
 Lord Rainsforth's views on politics were the same as mine 
 would be. How could the politics of an experienced man of 
 the world be those of an ardent young student ? But had they 
 been identical, I felt that I could not so creep into equality 
 with a patron's daughter. No ! I was ready to abandon my 
 own more scholastic predilections ; to strain every energy at 
 the bar ; to carve or force my own way to fortune and if I 
 arrived at independence, then what then ? Why, the right to 
 speak of love, and aim at power. This was not the view of 
 Ellinor Compton. The law seemed to her a tedious, needless 
 drudgery : there was nothing in it to captivate her imagination. 
 She listened to me with that charm which she yet retains, and 
 by which she seems to identify herself with those who speak to
 
 THE CAXTONS. l6l 
 
 her. She would turn to me with a pleading look when her 
 father dilated on the brilliant prospects of a parliamentary suc- 
 cess ; for he (not having gained it, yet having lived with those 
 who had) overvalued it, and seemed ever to wish to enjoy it 
 through some other. But when I, in turn, spoke of independence, 
 of the bar, Ellinor's face grew overcast. The world the world 
 was with her, and the ambition of the world, which is always 
 for power or effect ! A part of the house lay exposed to the 
 east wind. ' Plant half-way down the hill,' said I one day. 
 4 Plant ! ' cried Lady Ellinor ' it will be twenty years before 
 the trees grow up. No, my dear father, build a wall, and 
 cover it with creepers ! ' That was an illustration of her whole 
 character. She could not wait till trees had time to grow ; a 
 dead wall would be so much more quickly thrown up, and 
 parasite creepers would give it a prettier effect. Nevertheless, 
 she was a grand and noble creature. And I in love ! Not 
 so discouraged as you may suppose ; for Lord Rainsforth often 
 hinted encouragement, which even I could scarcely misconstrue. 
 Not caring for rank, and not wishing for fortune beyond com- 
 petence for his daughter, he saw in me all he required a gen- 
 tleman of ancient birth, and one in whom his own active mind 
 could prosecute that kind of mental ambition which overflowed 
 in him, and yet had never had its vent. And Ellinor ! 
 Heaven forbid I should say she loved me, but something made 
 me think she could do so. Under these notions, suppressing 
 all my hopes, I made a bold effort to master the influences 
 round me, and to adopt that career I thought worthiest of us 
 all. I went to London to read for the bar." 
 
 " The bar ! Is it possible ? " cried I. My father smiled 
 sadly. 
 
 " Everything seemed possible to me then. I read some 
 months. I began to see my way even in that short time ; 
 began to comprehend what would be the difficulties before me, 
 and to feel there was that within me which could master them. 
 I took a holiday and returned to Cumberland. I found Ro- 
 land there on my return. Always of a roving, adventurous 
 temper, though he had not then entered the army, he had, for 
 more than two years, been wandering over Great Britain and 
 Ireland on foot. It was a young knight-errant whom I 
 embraced, and who overwhelmed me with reproaches that I 
 should be reading for the law. There had never been a lawyer 
 in the family ! It was about that time, I think, that I petrified 
 him with the discovery of the printer ! I knew not exactly 
 wherefore, whether from jealousy, fear, foreboding but itcer-
 
 162 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 tainly was a pain that seized me, when I learned from Roland 
 that he had become intimate at Compton Hall. Roland and 
 Lord Rainsforth had met at the house of a neighboring gentle- 
 man, and Lord Rainsforth had welcomed his acquaintance, at 
 first, perhaps, for my sake, afterwards for his own. 
 
 " I could not for the life of me," continned my father, " ask 
 Roland if he admired Ellinor ; but when I found that he did 
 not put that question to me, I trembled ! 
 
 " We went to Compton together, speaking little by the way. 
 We stayed there some days." 
 
 My father here thrust his hand into his waistcoat all men 
 have their little ways, which denote much ; and when my father 
 thrust his hand into his waistcoat, it was always a sign of some 
 mental effort he was going to prove, or to argue, to moralize, 
 or to preach. Therefore, though I was listening before with 
 all my ears, I believe I had, speaking magnetically and mes- 
 merically, an extra pair of ears, a new sense supplied to me, 
 when my father put his hand into his waistcoat. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHEREIN MY FATHER CONTINUES HIS STORY. 
 
 " THERE is not a mystical creation, type, symbol, or poetical 
 invention for meanings abstruse, recondite, and incompre- 
 hensible, which is not represented by the female gender," said 
 my father, having his hand quite buried in his waistcoat. 
 " For instance, the Sphynx and Isis, whose veil no man had 
 ever lifted, were both ladies, Kitty ! And so was Persephone, 
 who must be always either in heaven or hell and Hecate, 
 who was one thing by night and another by day. The Sibyls 
 were females ; and so were the Gorgons, the Harpies, the 
 Furies, the Fates, and the Teutonic Valkyrs, Nornies, and 
 Hela herself : in short, all representations of ideas, obscure, 
 inscrutable, and portentous, are nouns feminine." 
 
 Heaven bless my father ! Augustine Caxton was himself 
 again ! I began to fear that the story had slipped away from 
 him, lost in that labyrinth of learning. But, luckily, as he 
 paused for breath, his look fell on those limpid blue eyes of 
 my mother's, and that honest open brow of hers, which had 
 certainly nothing in common with Sphynges, Fates, Furies, or 
 Valkyrs ; and, whether his heart smote him, or his reason 
 made him own that he had fallen into a very disingenuous and 
 unsound train of assertion, I know not, but his front relaxed, 
 and with a smile he resumed. " Ellinor was the last person
 
 THE CAXTONS. 163 
 
 in the world to deceive any one willingly. Did she deceive me 
 and Roland that we both, though not conceited men, fancied 
 that, if we had dared to speak openly of love, we had not so 
 dared in vain ? Or do you think, Kitty, that a woman really 
 can love (not much, perhaps, but somewhat) two or three, or 
 half-a-dozen at a time ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! " cried my mother. " And as for this Lady 
 Ellinor, I am shocked at her I don't know what to call it ! " 
 
 " Nor I either, my dear," said my father, slowly taking his 
 hand from his waistcoat, as if the effort were too much for him, 
 and the problem were insoluble. " But this, begging your 
 pardon, I do think, that before a young woman does really, 
 truly, and cordially centre her affections on one object, she 
 suffers fancy, imagination, the desire of power, curiosity, or 
 Heaven knows what, to simulate, even to her own mind, pale 
 reflections of the luminary not yet risen parhelia that pre- 
 cede the sun. Don't judge of Roland as you see him now, 
 Pisistratus grim, and gray, and formal ; imagine a nature 
 soaring high amongst daring thoughts, or exuberant with the 
 nameless poetry of youthful life, with a frame matchless for 
 bounding elasticity, an eye bright with haughty fire, a heart 
 from which noble sentiments sprang like sparks from an anvil. 
 Lady Ellinor had an ardent, inquisitive imagination. This 
 bold, fiery nature must have moved her interest. On the 
 other hand, she had an instructed, full, and eager mind. Am 
 I vain if I say, now after the lapse of so many years, that in 
 my mind her intellect felt companionship ? When a woman 
 loves, and marries, and settles, why then she becomes a one 
 whole, a completed being. But a girl like Ellinor has in her 
 many women. Various herself, all varieties please her. I do 
 believe that, if either of us had spoken the word boldly, Lady 
 Ellinor would have shrunk back to her own heart examined 
 it, tasked it, and given a frank and generous answer. And he 
 who had spoken first might have had the better chance not to 
 receive a ' No.' But neither of us spoke. And perhaps she 
 was rather curious to know if she had made an impression, 
 than anxious to create it. It was not that she willingly 
 deceived us, but her whole atmosphere was delusion. Mists 
 come before the sunrise. However this be, Roland and I 
 were not long in detecting each other. And hence arose, first 
 coldness, then jealousy, then quarrel." 
 
 " Oh, my father, your love must have been indeed powerful, 
 to have made a breach between the hearts of two such 
 brothers ! "
 
 164 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Yes," said my father ; " it was amidst the old ruins of the 
 castle, there, where I had first seen Ellinor, that, winding my 
 arm round Roland's neck, as I found him seated amongst the 
 weeds and stones, his face buried in his hands it was there 
 that I said : ' Brother, we both love this woman ! My nature 
 is the calmer of the two, shall feel the loss less. Brother, 
 shake hands, and God speed you, for I go ! ' ' 
 
 " Austin ! " murmured my mother, sinking her head on my 
 father's breast. 
 
 "And therewith we quarrelled. For it was Roland who in- 
 sisted, while the tears rolled down his eyes, and he stamped his 
 foot on the ground, that he was the intruder, the interloper ; 
 that he had no hope ; that he had been a fool and a madman ; 
 and that it was for him to go ! Now, while we were disput- 
 ing, and words began to run high, my father's old servant 
 entered the desolate place, with a note from Lady Ellinor to 
 me, asking for the loan of some book I had praised. Roland 
 saw the handwriting, and while I turned the note over and over 
 irresolutely, before I broke the seal, he vanished. 
 
 " He did not return to my father's house. We did not know 
 what had become of him. But I, thinking over that impulsive, 
 volcanic nature, took quick alarm. And I went in search of 
 him ; came on his track at last ; and, after many days, found 
 him in a miserable cottage amongst the most dreary of the 
 dreary wastes which form so large a part of Cumberland. He 
 was so altered I scarcely knew him. To be brief, we came at 
 last to a compromise. We would go back to Compton. 
 This suspense was intolerable. One of us at least should take 
 courage and learn his fate. But who should speak first ? We 
 drew lots, and the lot fell on me. 
 
 " And now that I was really to pass the Rubicon now that 
 I was to impart that secret hope which had animated me so 
 long been to me a new life what were my sensations ? My 
 dear boy, depend on it that that age is the happiest, when such 
 feelings as I felt then can agitate us no more. They are mis- 
 takes in the serene order of that majestic life which heaven 
 meant for thoughtful man. Our souls should be as stars on 
 earth, not as meteors and tortured comets. What could I offer 
 to Ellinor to her father? What but a future of patient labor ? 
 And in either answer, what alternative of misery ! my own 
 existence shattered, or Roland's noble heart ! 
 
 "Well, we went to Compton. In our former visits we had 
 been almost the only guests. Lord Rainsforth did not much 
 affect the intercourse of country squires, less educated then
 
 THE CAXTONS. 165 
 
 than now. And in excuse for Ellinor ana for us, we were 
 almost the only men of our own age she had seen in that large, 
 dull house. But now the London season had broken up, the 
 house was filled ; there was no longer that familiar and con- 
 stant approach to the mistress of the Hall which had made us 
 like one family. Great ladies, fine people, were round her ; a 
 look, a smile, a passing word were as much as I had a right to 
 expect. And the talk, too, how different ! Before, I could 
 speak on books I was at home there ! Roland could pour 
 forth his dreams, his chivalrous love for the past, his bold defi- 
 ance of the unknown future. And Ellinor, cultivated and 
 fanciful, could sympathize with both. And her father, scholar 
 and gentleman, could sympathize too. But now " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WHEREIN MY FATHER BRINGS OUT HIS DENOUEMENT. 
 
 " IT is no use in the world," said my father, " to know all 
 the languages expounded in grammars and splintered up into 
 lexicons, if we don't learn the language of the world. It is a 
 talk apart, Kitty," cried my father, warming up. "It is an 
 ANAGLYPH a spoken anaglyph, my dear ! If all the hiero- 
 glyphs of the Egyptians had been ABC to you, still if you 
 did not know the anaglyph, you would know nothing of the 
 true mysteries of the priests.* 
 
 " Neither Roland nor I knew one symbol letter of the 
 anaglyph. Talk, talk talk on persons we never heard of, 
 things we never cared for. All we thought of importance, 
 puerile or pedantic trifles all we thought so trite and childish, 
 the grand momentous business of life ! If you found a little 
 schoolboy, on his half-holiday, fishing for minnows with a 
 crooked pin, and you began to tell him of all the wonders of 
 the deep, the laws of the tides, and the antediluvian relics of 
 iguanodon and ichthyosaurus nay, if you spoke but of pearl 
 fisheries, and coral banks, or water-kelpies and naiads, would 
 not the little boy cry out peevishly : ' Don't tease me with all 
 that nonsense ! Let me fish in peace for my minnows.' I 
 think the little boy is right after his own way it was to fish 
 for minnows that he came out, poor child, not to hear about 
 iguanodons and water-kelpies ! 
 
 " So the company fished for minnows, and not a word could 
 we say about our pearl fisheries and coral banks ! And as for 
 
 * The anaglyph was peculiar to the Egyptian priests the hieroglyph generally known 
 to the well educated.
 
 l66 THE CAXTON9. 
 
 fishing for minnows ourselves, my dear boy, we should have 
 been less bewildered if you had asked us to fish for a mer- 
 maid ! Do you see, now, one reason why I have let you go 
 thus early into the world ? Well, but amongst these minnow- 
 fishers there was one who fished with an air that made the 
 minnows look larger than salmons. 
 
 " Trevanion had been at Cambridge with me. We were 
 even intimate. He was a young man like myself, with his way 
 to make in the world. Poor as I of a family upon a par with 
 mine old enough, but decayed. There was, however, this 
 difference between us. He had connections in the great 
 world, I had none. Like me, his chief pecuniary resource was 
 a college fellowship. Now, Trevanion had established a high 
 reputation at the University ; but less as a scholar, though a 
 pretty fair one, than as a man to rise in life. Every faculty 
 he had was an energy. He aimed at everything lost some 
 things, gained others. He was a great speaker in a debating 
 society, a member of some politico-economical club. He was 
 an eternal talker brilliant, various, paradoxical, florid 
 different from what he is now. For, dreading fancy, his 
 career since has been one effort to curb it. But all his 
 mind attached itself to something that we Englishmen call 
 solid : it was a large mind not, my dear Kitty, like a fine 
 whale sailing through knowledge from the pleasure of sailing, 
 but like a polypus, that puts forth all its feelers for the purpose 
 of catching hold of something. Trevanion had gone at once 
 to London from the University : his reputation and his talk 
 dazzled his connections, not unjustly. They made an effort ; 
 they got him into Parliament : he had spoken, he had suc- 
 ceeded. He came to Compton in the flush of his virgin fame. 
 I cannot convey to you who know him now with his careworn 
 face, and abrupt, dry manner, reduced by perpetual gladiator- 
 ship to the skin and bone of his former self what that man 
 was when he first stepped into the arena of life. 
 
 " You see, my listeners, that you have to recollect that we 
 middle-aged folks were young then that is to say, we were as 
 different from what we are now, as the green bough of summer 
 is from the dry wood, out of which we make a ship or a gate- 
 post. Neither man nor wood comes to the uses of life till the 
 green leaves are stripped and the sap gone. And then the 
 uses of life transform us into strange things with other names : 
 the tree is a tree no more it is a gate or a ship ; the youth is 
 a youth no more, but a one-legged soldier ; a hollow-eyed 
 statesman ; a scholar spectacled and slippered ! When Micyl-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 167 
 
 lus (here the hand slides into the waistcoat again !) when 
 Micyllus," said my father, " asked the cock that had once been 
 Pythagoras,* if the affair of Troy was really as Homer told it, 
 the cock replied scornfully : ' How could Homer know any- 
 thing about it ? At that time he was a camel in Bactria.' 
 Pisistratus, according to the doctrine of metempsychosis, you 
 might have been a Bactrian camel, when that which to my life 
 was the siege of Troy saw Roland and Trevanion before the 
 walls. 
 
 " Handsome you can see that Trevanion has been ; but the 
 beauty of his countenance then was in its perpetual play, its 
 intellectual eagerness ; and his conversation was so discursive, 
 so various, so animated, and, above all, so full of the things of 
 the day ! If he had been a priest of Serapis for fifty years, 
 he could not have known the anaglyph better ! Therefore he 
 filled up every crevice and pore of that hollow society with his 
 broken, inquisitive, petulant light. Therefore he was admired, 
 talked of, listened to ; and everybody said : ' Trevanion is a 
 rising man.' 
 
 " Yet I did not do him then the justice I have done since- 
 for we students and abstract thinkers are apt too much, in our 
 first youth, to look to the depth of a man's mind or knowledge, 
 and not enough to the surface it may cover. There may be 
 more water in a flowing stream, only four feet deep, and cer- 
 tainly more force and more health, than in a sullen pool, thirty 
 yards to the bottom. I did not do Trevanion justice. I did 
 not see how naturally he realized Lady Ellinor's ideal. 1 have 
 said that she was like many women in one. Trevanion was a 
 thousand men in one. He had learning to please her mind, 
 eloquence to dazzle her fancy, beauty to please her eye, reputa- 
 tion precisely of the kind to allure her vanity, honor and con- 
 scientious purpose to satisfy her judgment. And, above all, 
 he was ambitious. Ambitious not as I not as Roland was, 
 but ambitious as Ellinor was : ambitious, not to realize some 
 grand ideal in the silent heart, but to grasp the practical, 
 positive substances that lay without. 
 
 " Eliinor was a child of the great world, and so was he. 
 
 " I saw not all this, nor did Roland ; and Trevanion seemed 
 to pay no particular court to Ellinor. 
 
 " But the time approached when I ought to speak. The 
 house began to thin. Lord Rainsforth had leisure to resume 
 his easy conferences with me ; and one day, walking in his gar- 
 den, he gave me the opportunity. For I need not say, Pisi- 
 
 * Lucian " The Dream of Micyllus."
 
 l68 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 stratus," said my father, looking at me earnestly, " that before 
 any man of honor, if of inferior worldly pretensions, will open 
 his heart seriously to the daughter, it is his duty to speak first 
 to the parent, whose confidence has imposed that trust." I 
 bowed my head and colored. 
 
 "I know not how it was," continued my father, "but Lord 
 Rainsforth turned the conversation on Ellinor. After speak- 
 ing of his expectations in his son, who was returning home, he 
 said : ' But he will of course enter public life will, I trust, 
 soon marry, have a separate establishment, and I shall see but 
 little of him. My Ellinor ! I cannot bear the thought of 
 parting wholly with her. And that, to say the selfish truth, is 
 one reason why I have never wished her to marry a rich man, 
 and so leave me forever. I could hope that she will give her- 
 self to one who may be contented to reside at least great part 
 of the year with me who may bless me with another son, not 
 steal from me a daughter. I do not mean that he should waste 
 his life in the country ; his occupations would probably lead 
 him to London. I care not where my house is all I want is 
 to keep my home. You know (he added, with a smile that I 
 thought meaning) how often I have implied to you that I 
 have no vulgar ambition for Ellinor. Her portion must be 
 very small, for my estate is strictly entailed, and I have lived 
 too much up to my income all my life to hope to save much 
 now. But her tastes do not require expense, and while I live, 
 at least, there need be no change. She can only prefer a man 
 whose talents, congenial to hers, will win their own career, and 
 ere I die that career maybe made.' Lord Rainsforth paused ; 
 and then how, in what words I know not but out all burst ! 
 my long-suppressed, timid, anxious, doubtful, fearful love. 
 The strange energy it had given to a nature till then so retir- 
 ing and calm ! My recent devotion to the law ; my confidence 
 that, with such a prize, I could succeed it was but a transfer 
 of labor from one study to another. Labor could conquer all 
 things, and custom sweeten them in the conquest. The bar 
 was a less brilliant career than the senate. But the first aim 
 of the poor man should be independence. In short, Pisistra- 
 tus, wretched egotist that I was, I forgot Roland in that 
 moment ; and I spoke as one who felt his life was in his words. 
 
 " Lord Rainsforth looked at me, when I had done, with a 
 countenance full of affection, but it was not cheerful. 
 
 " ' My dear Caxton,' said he tremulously, ' I own that I once 
 wished this wished it from the hour I knew you ; but why 
 did you so long I never suspected that nor, I am sure, did
 
 THE CAXTONS. 169 
 
 Ellinor.' He stopped short, and added quickly : ' However, 
 go and speak, as you have spoken to me, to Ellinor. Go, it 
 may not yet be too late. And yet but go.' 
 
 " Too late ! What meant those words ? Lord Rainsforth 
 had turned hastily down another walk, and left me alone, to 
 ponder over an answer which concealed a riddle. Slowly I 
 took my way towards the house, and sought Lady Ellinor, half 
 hoping, half dreading to find her alone. There was a little 
 room communicating with a conservatory, where she usually 
 sat in the morning, Thither I took my course. 
 
 " That room, I see it still ! the walls covered with pictures 
 from her own hand, many were sketches of the haunts we had 
 visited together ; the simple ornaments, womanly but not 
 effeminate ; the very books on the table, that had been made 
 familiar by dear associations. Yes ; there, the Tasso in which 
 we had read together the episode of Clorinda ; there, the 
 sEschyhis in which I translated to her the Prometheus. Pedan- 
 tries these might seem to some ; pedantries, perhaps, they 
 were ; but they were proofs of that congeniality which had knit 
 the man of books to the daughter of the world. That room, it 
 was the home of my heart. Such, in my vanity of spirit, 
 methought would be the air round a home to come. I looked 
 about me, troubled and confused, and, halting timidly, I saw 
 Ellinor before me, leaning her face on her hand, her cheek 
 more flushed than usual, and tears in her eyes. I approached 
 in silence, and, as I drew my chair to the table, my eye fell on 
 a glove on the floor. It was a man's glove. Do you know," 
 said my father, " that once, when I was very young, I saw a 
 Dutch picture called The Glove, and the subject was of murder. 
 There was a weed-grown, marshy pool, a desolate, dismal land- 
 scape, that of itself inspired thoughts of ill deeds and terror. 
 And two men, as if walking by chance, came to this pool ; the 
 finger of one pointed to a blood-stained glove, and the eyes of 
 both were fixed on each other, as if there were no need of 
 words. That glove told its tale ! The picture had long haunted 
 me in my boyhood, but it never gave me so uneasy and fearful 
 a feeling as did that real glove upon the floor. Why? My 
 dear Pisistratus, the theory of forebodings involves one of 
 those questions on which we may ask ' why ' forever. More 
 chilled than I had been in speaking to her father, I took heart 
 at last, and spoke to Ellinor " 
 
 My father stopped short, the moon had risen, and was shin- 
 ing full into the room and on his face. And by that light the 
 face was changed ; young emotions had brought back youth
 
 17 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 my father looked a young man. But what pain was there ! 
 If the memory alone could raise what, after all, was but the 
 ghost of suffering, what had been its living reality ! Involun- 
 tatily I seized his hand ; my father pressed it convulsively, and 
 said, with a deep breath : " It was too late ; Trevanion was Lady 
 Ellinor's accepted, plighted, happy lover. My dear Katherine, 
 I do not envy him now ; look up, sweet wife ! look up ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " ELLINOR (let me do her justice) was shocked at my silent 
 emotion. No human lip could utter more tender sympathy, 
 more noble self-reproach ; but that was no balm to my wound. 
 So I left the house ; so I never returned to the law ; so all 
 impetus, all motive for exertion, seemed taken from my being ; 
 so I went back into books. And so, a moping, despondent, 
 worthless mourner I might have been to the end of my days, 
 but that Heaven, in its mercy, sent thy mother, Pisistratus, 
 across my path ; and day and night I bless God and her, for I 
 have been, and am oh, indeed, I am, a happy man ! " 
 
 My mother threw herself on my father's breast, sobbing 
 violently, and then turned from the room without a word my 
 father's eye, swimming in tears, followed her ; and then, after 
 pacing the room for some moments in silence, he came up to 
 me, and leaning his arm on my shoulder, whispered, " Can you 
 guess why I have now told you all this, my son ? " 
 
 " Yes, partly : thank you, father," I faltered, and sat down, 
 for I felt faint. 
 
 " Some sons," said my father, seating himself beside me, 
 would find in their father's follies and errors an excuse for 
 their own ; not so will you, Pisistratus." 
 
 " I see no folly, no error, sir ; only nature and sorrow." 
 
 " Pause ere you thus think," said my father. " Great was 
 the folly, and great the error, of indulging imagination that had 
 no basis of linking the whole usefulness of my life to the will 
 of a human creature like myself. Heaven did not design the 
 passion of love to be this tyrant ; nor is it so with the mass 
 and multitude of human life. We dreamers, solitary students 
 like me, or half-poets like poor Roland, make our own disease. 
 How many years, even after I had regained serenity, as your 
 mother gave me a home long not appreciated, have I wasted ! 
 The mainspring of my existence was snapped ; I took no note 
 of time. And therefore now, you see, late in life, Nemesis 
 wakes. I look back with regret at powers neglected, opportu-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 171 
 
 nities gone. Galvanically, I brace up energies half-palsied by 
 disuse ; and you see me, rather than rest quiet and good for 
 nothing, talked into what, I daresay, are sad follies, by an Uncle 
 Jack ! And now I behold Ellinor again ; and I say in wonder, 
 ' All this all this all this agony, all this torpor, for that hag- 
 gard face, that worldly spirit ! ' So is it ever in life. Mortal 
 things fade ; immortal things spring 'more freshly with every 
 step to the tomb. 
 
 "Ah ! " continued my father, with a sigh, " it would not have 
 been so, if at your age I had found out the secret of the saf- 
 fron bag ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " AND Roland, sir," said I " how did he take it ? " 
 " With all the indignation of a proud, unreasonable man. 
 More indignant, poor fellow, for me than himself. And so 
 did he wound and gall me by what he said of Ellinor, and so 
 did he rage against me because I would not share his rage, 
 that again we quarrelled. We parted, and did not meet for 
 many years. We came into sudden possession of our little 
 fortunes. His he devoted (as you may know) to the purchase 
 of the old ruins, and the commission in the army, which had 
 always been his dream and so went his way, wrathful. My 
 share gave me an excuse for indolence : it satisfied all my 
 wants ; and when my old tutor died, and his young child 
 became my ward, and somehow or other, from my ward my 
 wife, it allowed me to resign my fellowship, and live amongst 
 my books still as a book myself. One comfort, somewhat 
 before my marriage, I had conceived ; and that, too, Roland 
 has since said was comfort to him. Ellinor became an heiress. 
 Her poor brother died ; and all of the estate that did not pass 
 in the male line devolved on her. That fortune made a gulf 
 between us almost as wide as her marriage. For Ellinor, poor 
 and portionless, in spite of her rank, I could have worked, 
 striven, slaved. But Ellinor RICH ! it would have crushed me. 
 This was a comfort. But still, still the past that perpetual 
 aching sense of something that had seemed the essential of 
 life withdrawn from life, evermore, evermore ! What was left 
 was not sorrow, it was a void. Had I lived more with men, 
 and less with dreams and books, I should have made my 
 nature large enough to bear the loss of a single passion. But 
 in solitude we shrink up. No plant so much as man needs the 
 sun and the air. I comprehend now why most of our best 
 and wisest men have lived in capitals ; and therefore again I
 
 172 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 say, that one scholar in a family is enough. Confiding in 
 your sound heart and strong honor, I turn you thus betimes 
 on the world. Have I done wrong ? Prove that I have not, 
 my child. Do you know what a very good man has said ? 
 Listen and follow my precept, not example. 
 
 " ' The state of the W9rld is such, and so much depends on 
 action, that everything seems to say aloud to every man, ' Do 
 something do it do it ! ' " * 
 
 I was profoundly touched, and I rose refreshed and hopeful, 
 when suddenly the door opened, and who or what in the world 
 should come in ; but certainly he, she, it, or they, shall not 
 come into this chapter ! On that point I am resolved. No, 
 my dear young lady, I am extremely flattered ; I feel for your 
 curiosity ; but really not a peep not one ! And yet well 
 then, if you will have it, and look so coaxingly who or what, 
 I say, should come in abrupt, unexpected taking away one's 
 breath, not giving one time to say " By your leave, or with 
 your leave," but making one's mouth stand open with surprise, 
 and one's eyes fix in a big, round, stupid stare, but 
 
 THE END OF THE CHAPTER. 
 
 PART EIGHTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THERE entered, in the front drawing-room of my father's 
 house in Russell Street an Elf ! ! ! clad in white small, deli- 
 cate, with curls of jet over her shoulders ; with eyes so large 
 .and so lustrous that they shone through the room, as no eyes 
 merely human could possibly shine. The Elf approached, and 
 stood facing us. The sight was so unexpected, and the appa- 
 rition so strange, that we remained for some moments in 
 startled silence. At length my father, as the bolder and wiser 
 man of the two, and the more fitted to deal with the eerie 
 things of another world, had the audacity to step close up to 
 the little creature, and, bending down to examine its face, said : 
 " What do you want, my pretty child ? " 
 
 Pretty child ! was it only a pretty child after all ? Alas, it 
 would be well if all we mistake for fairies at the first glance 
 could resolve themselves only into pretty children ! 
 
 * " Remains of the Rev. Richard Cecil," p. 349.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 173 
 
 "Come," answered the child, with a foreign accent, and tak-. 
 ing my father by the lappet of his coat, "come, poor papa is so 
 ill ! I am frightened ! Come and save him " 
 
 " Certainly," exclaimed my father quickly : " Where's my 
 hat, Sisty ? Certainly, my child, we will go and save papa." 
 
 " But who is papa ? " asked Pisistratus a question that 
 would never have occurred to my father. He never asked who 
 or what the sick papas of poor children were, when the chil- 
 dren pulled him by the lappet of his coat " Who is papa ? " 
 
 The child looked hard at me, and the big tears rolled from 
 those large luminous eyes, but quite silently. At this moment 
 a full-grown figure filled up the threshold, and, emerging from 
 the shadow, presented to us the aspect of a stout, well-favored 
 young woman. She dropped a curtsey, and then said, minc- 
 ingly : 
 
 " Oh, miss, you ought to have waited for me, and not alarmed 
 the gentlefolks by running upstairs in that way. If you please, 
 sir, I was settling with the cabman, and he was so imperent : 
 them low fellows always are, when they have only us poor 
 women to deal with, sir, and " 
 
 " But what is the matter ? " cried I, for my father had taken 
 the child in his arms, soothingly, and she was now weeping on 
 his breast. 
 
 " Why, you see, sir (another curtsey), the gent only arrived 
 last night at our hotel, sir The Lamb, close by Lunnun 
 Bridge and he was taken ill and he's not quite in his right 
 mind like ; so we sent for the doctor, and the doctor looked 
 at the brass plate on the gent's carpet-bag, sir, and then he 
 looked into the Court Guide, and he -said: 'There is a Mr. 
 Caxton in Great Russell Street, is he any relation ? ' and this 
 young lady said : ' That's my papa's brother, and we were 
 going there.' And so, sir, as the Boots was out, I got into a 
 cab, and miss would come with me, and " 
 
 " Roland Roland ill ! Quick quick, quick ! " cried my 
 father, and, with the child still in his arms, he ran down the 
 stairs. I followed with his hat, which of course he had forgot- 
 ten. A cab, by good luck, was passing our very door ; but the 
 chambermaid would not let us enter it till she had satisfied 
 herself that it was not the same she had dismissed. This pre- 
 liminary investigation completed, we entered, and drove to 
 The Lamb. 
 
 The chambermaid, who sate opposite, passed the time in 
 ineffectual overtures to relieve my father of the little girl, who 
 still clung nestling to his breast ; in a long epic, much broken
 
 174 THE CAX70NS. 
 
 into episodes, of the causes which had led to her dismissal of 
 the late cabman, who, to swell his fare, had thought proper to 
 take a "circumbendibus ! " and with occasional tugs at her cap, 
 and smoothings down of her gown, and apologies for being 
 such a figure, especially when her eyes rested on my satin 
 cravat, or drooped on my shining boots. 
 
 Arrived at The Lamb, the chambermaid, with conscious 
 dignity, led us up a large staircase, which seemed interminable. 
 As she mounted the region above the third story, she paused 
 to take breath, and inform us apologetically, that the house 
 was full, but that, if the " gent " stayed over Friday, he would 
 be moved into No. 54, "with a lookout and a chimbly." My 
 little cousin now slipped from my father's arms, and running 
 up the stairs, beckoned to us to follow. We did so, and were 
 led to a door, at which the child stopped and listened ; then, 
 taking off her shoes, she stole in on tip-toe. We entered after 
 her. 
 
 By the light of a single candle we saw my poor uncle's face : 
 it was flushed with fever, and the eyes had that bright, vacant 
 stare which it is so terrible to meet. Less terrible is it to find 
 the body wasted, the features sharp with the great life-strug- 
 gle, than to look on the face from which the mind is gone the 
 eyes in which there is no recognition. Such a sight is a start- 
 ling shock to that unconscious habitual materialism with which 
 we are apt familiarly to regard those we love : for, in thus 
 missing the mind, the heart, the affection that sprang to ours, 
 we are suddenly made aware that it was the something within 
 the form, and not the form itself, that was so dear to us. The 
 form itself is still, perhaps, little altered ; but that lip which 
 smiles no welcome, that eye which wanders over us as strang- 
 ers, that ear which distinguishes no more our voices the friend 
 we sought is not there ! Even our own love is chilled back, 
 grows a kind of vague, superstitious terror. Yes, it was not 
 the matter still present to us, which had conciliated all those 
 subtle nameless sentiments which are classed and fused in the 
 word " affection " it was the airy, intangible, electric something, 
 the absence of which now appals us. 
 
 I stood speechless ; my father crept on, and took the hand 
 that returned no pressure ; the child only did not seem to share 
 our emotions, but, clambering on the bed, laid her cheek on 
 the breast, and was still. 
 
 " Pisistratus," whispered my father at last, and I stole near, 
 hushing my breath ; " Pisistratus, if your mother were here ! " 
 
 " I nodded ; the same thought had struck us both. His
 
 THE CAXTONS. 75 
 
 deep wisdom, my active youth, both felt their nothingness, then 
 and there. In the sick chamber, both turned helplessly to 
 miss the woman. 
 
 So I stole out, descended the stairs, and stood in the open 
 air in a sort of stunned amaze. Then the tramp of feet, and 
 the roll of wheels, and the great London roar, revived me. 
 That contagion of practical life which lulls the heart and stim- 
 ulates the brain what an intellectual mystery there is in its 
 common atmosphere ! In another moment I had singled out, 
 like an inspiration, from a long file of those ministrants of our 
 Trivia, the cab of the lightest shape and with the strongest 
 horse, and was on my way, not to my mother's, but to Dr. 
 M II , Manchester Square, whom I knew as the medi- 
 cal adviser to the Trevanions. Fortunately, that kind and 
 able physician was at home, and he promised to be with the 
 sufferer before I myself could join him. I then drove to Rus- 
 sell Street, and broke to my mother, as cautiously as I could, 
 the intelligence with which I was charged. 
 
 When we arrived at The Lamb, we found the doctor already 
 writing his prescription and injunctions : the activity of the 
 treatment announced the danger. I flew for the surgeon who 
 had been before called in. Happy those who are strange to 
 that indescribable, silent bustle which the sick-room at times 
 presents : that conflict which seems almost hand to hand be- 
 tween life and death when all the poor, unresisting, uncon- 
 scious frame is given up to the war against its terrible enemy ; 
 the dark blood flowing flowing ; the hand on the pulse, the 
 hushed suspense, every look on the physician's bended brow ; 
 then the sinaplasms to the feet and the ice to the head ; and 
 now and then through the lull or the low whispers, the inco- 
 herent voice of the sufferer, babbling, perhaps, of green fields 
 and fairyland, while your hearts are breaking ! Then, at 
 length, the sleep in that sleep, perhaps, the crisis the 
 breathless watch, the slow waking, the first sane words the 
 old smile again, only fainter your gushing tears, your low, 
 " Thank God ! Thank God ! " 
 
 Picture all this ; it is past : Roland has spoken his sense 
 has returned my mother is leaning over him his child's 
 small hands are clasped round his neck the surgeon, who 
 has been there six hours, has taken up his hat, and smiles gayly 
 as he nods farewell and my father is leaning against the wall, 
 his face covered with his hands.
 
 176 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ALL this had been so sudden that, to use the trite phrase 
 for no other is so expressive it was like a dream. I felt an 
 absolute, an imperious want of solitude, of the open air. The 
 swell of gratitude almost stifled me the room did not seem 
 large enough for my big heart. In early youth, if we find it 
 difficult to control our feelings, so we find it difficult to vent 
 them in the presence of others. On the spring side of twenty, 
 if anything affects us, we rush to lock ourselves up in our 
 room, or get away into the streets or the fields ; in our earlier 
 years we are still the savages of Nature, and we do as the poor 
 brute does the wounded stag leaves the herd, and, if there is 
 anything on a dog's faithful heart, he slinks away into a 
 corner. 
 
 Accordingly, I stole out of the hotel, and wandered through 
 the streets, which were quite deserted. It was about the first 
 hour of dawn, the most comfortless hour there is, especially in 
 London ! But I only felt freshness in the raw air, and sooth- 
 ing in the desolate stillness. The love my uncle inspired was 
 very remarkable in its nature : it was not like that quiet affec- 
 tion with which those advanced in life must usually content 
 themselves, but connected with the more vivid interest that 
 youth awakens. There was in him still so much of vivacity 
 and fire, in his errors and crotchets so much of the self-delu- 
 sion of youth, that one could scarce fancy him other than 
 young. Those Quixotic, exaggerated notions of honor, that 
 romance of sentiment, which no hardship, care, grief, disap- 
 pointment, could wear away (singular in a period when, at 
 two-and-twenty, young men declare themselves blasts!} seemed 
 to leave him all the charm of boyhood. A season in London 
 had made me more a man of the world, older in heart than he 
 was. Then, the sorrow that gnawed him with such silent stern- 
 ness. No, Captain Roland was one of those men who seize 
 hold of your thoughts, who mix themselves up with your lives. 
 The idea that Roland should die die with the load at his 
 heart unlightened was one that seemed to take a spring out 
 of the wheels of nature, an object out of the aims of life of 
 my life at least. For I had made it one of the ends of my 
 existence to bring back the son to the father, and restore the 
 smile that must have been gay once, to the downward curve of 
 that iron lip. But Roland was now out of danger and yet, 
 like one. who has escaped shipwreck, I trembled to look back
 
 fE CAXTONS. 177 
 
 on the danger past ; the voice of the devouring deep still 
 boomed in my ears. While rapt in my reveries, I stopped 
 mechanically to hear a clock strike four ; and, looking round, 
 I perceived that I had wandered from the heart of the city, 
 and was in one of the streets that lead out of the Strand. 
 Immediately before me, on the doorsteps of a large shop 
 whose closed shutters wore as obstinate a stillness as if they 
 had guarded the secrets of seventeen centuries in a street in 
 Pompeii, reclined a form fast asleep ; the arm propped on the 
 hard stone supporting the head, and the limbs uneasily strewn 
 over the stairs. The dress of the slumberer was travel-stained, 
 tattered, yet with the remains of a certain pretence : an air of 
 faded, shabby, penniless gentility made poverty more painful, 
 because it seemed to indicate unfitness to grapple with it. 
 The face of this person was hollow and pale, but its expres- 
 sion, even in sleep, was fierce and hard. I drew near and 
 nearer ; I recognized the countenance, the regular features, 
 the raven hair, even a peculiar gracefulness of posture : the 
 young man whom I had met at the inn by the wayside, and 
 who had left me alone with the Savoyard and his mice in the 
 churchyard, was before me. I remained behind the shadow 
 of one of the columns of the porch, leaning against the area 
 rails, and irresolute whether or not so slight an acquaintance 
 justified me in waking the sleeper, when a policeman, suddenly 
 emerging from an angle in the street, terminated my delibera- 
 tions with the decision of his practical profession ; for he laid 
 hold of the young man's arm and shook it roughly : " You 
 must not lie here ; get up and go home ! " The sleeper woke 
 with a quick start, rubbed his eyes, looked round, and fixed 
 them upon the policeman so haughtily, that that discriminat- 
 ing functionary probably thought that it was not from sheer 
 necessity that so improper a couch had been selected, and with 
 an air of greater respect he said : " You have been drinking, 
 young man can you find your way home ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the youth, resettling himself, " you see I have 
 found it ! " 
 
 " By the Lord Harry ! " muttered the policeman, " if he 
 ben't going to sleep again ! Come, come, walk on, or I must 
 walk you off." 
 
 My old acquaintance turned round. "Policeman," said he,with 
 a strange sort of smile, "what do you think this lodging is worth ? 
 I don't say for the night, for you see that is over, but for the 
 next two hours ? The lodging is primitive, but it suits me ; I 
 should think a shilling would be a fair price for it eh ?"
 
 i;B THE CAXTONS. 
 
 "You love your joke, sir," said the policeman, with a brow 
 much relaxed, and opening his hand mechanically. 
 
 " Say a shilling, then it is a bargain ! I hire it of you 
 upon credit. Good-night, and call me at six o'clock." 
 
 With that the young man settled himself so resolutely, and 
 the policeman's face exhibited such bewilderment, that I burst 
 out laughing, and came from my hiding-place. 
 
 The policeman looked at me. " Do you know this this " 
 
 " This gentleman ? " said I gravely. " Yes, you may leave 
 him to me "; and I slipped the price of the lodging into the 
 policeman's hand. He looked at the shilling he looked at 
 me he looked up the street and down the street shook his 
 head, and walked off. I then approached the youth, touched 
 him, and said : " Can you remember me, sir ; and what have 
 you done with Mr. Peacock ? " 
 
 STRANGER (after a pause). I remember you ; your name 
 is Caxton." 
 
 PISISTRATUS. And yours ? 
 
 STRANGER. Poor-devil, if you ask my pockets pockets, 
 which are the symbols of man ; Dare-devil, if you ask my 
 heart. (Surveying me from head to foot) The world seems 
 to have smiled on you, Mr. Caxton ! Are you not ashamed 
 to speak to a wretch lying on the stones ? but, to be sure, no 
 one sees you. 
 
 PISISTRATUS (sententiously). Had I lived in the last 
 century, I might have found Samuel Johnson lying on the 
 stones. 
 
 STRANGER (rising). You have spoilt my sleep ; you had 
 a right, since you paid for the lodging. Let me walk with 
 you a few paces ; you need not fear I do not pick pockets 
 yet ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. You say the world has smiled on me ; I 
 fear it has frowned on you. I don't say " courage," for you 
 seem to have enough of that ; but I say "patience" which is 
 the rarer quality of the two. 
 
 STRANGER. Hem ! (again looking at me keenly) Why 
 is it that you stop to speak to me one of whom you know 
 nothing, or worse than nothing ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Because I have often thought of you ; be- 
 cause you interest me ; because pardon me I would help 
 you if I can that is if you want help. 
 
 STRANGER. Want ! I am one want ! I want sleep ; I 
 want food ; I want the patience you recommend patience to 
 starve and rot. I have travelled from Paris to Boulogne on
 
 THE CAXTONS. fj^ 
 
 foot, with twelve sous in my pocket. Out of those twelve sous 
 in my pocket I saved four ; with the four I went to a billiard- 
 room at Boulogne ; I won just enough to pay my passage and 
 buy three rolls. You see I only require capital in order to 
 make a fortune. If with four sous I can win ten francs in a 
 night, what could I win with a capital of four sovereigns, and 
 in the course of a year ? that is an application of the Rule of 
 Three, which my head aches too much to calculate just at 
 present. Well, those three rolls have lasted me three days ; 
 the last crumb went for supper last night. Therefore, take 
 care how you offer me money (for that is what men mean by 
 help). You see I have no option but to take it. But I warn 
 you, don't expect gratitude ! I have none in me ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. You are not so bad as you paint yourself. 
 I would do something more for you, if I can, than lend you 
 the little I have to offer. Will you be frank with me ? 
 
 STRANGER. That depends I have been frank enough 
 hitherto, I think. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. True ; so I proceed without scruple. Don't 
 tell me your name or your condition, if you object to such con- 
 fidence ; but tell me if you have relations to whom you can 
 apply? You shake your head ? well, then, are you willing to 
 work for yourself ? Or is it only at the billiard-table (pardon 
 me) that you can try to make four sous produce ten francs ? 
 
 STRANGER (musing). I understand you. I have never 
 worked yet I abhor work. But I have no objection to try if 
 it is in me. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. It is in you : a man who can walk from 
 Paris to Boulogne with twelve sous in his pocket, and save four 
 for a purpose ; who can stake those four on the cool confi- 
 dence in his own skill, even at billiards; who can subsist 
 for three days on three rolls, and who, on the fourth day, can 
 wake from the stones of a capital with an eye and a spirit as 
 proud as yours, has in him all the requisites to subdue fortune. 
 
 STRANGER. Do you work ? you ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Yes and hard. 
 
 STRANGER. I am ready to work, then. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Good. Now, what can you do ? 
 
 STRANGER (with his odd smile). Many things useful., 
 I can split a bullet on a penknife ; I know the secret tierce of 
 Coulon, the fencing-master ; I can speak two languages (be- 
 sides English) like a native, even to their slang : I know every 
 game in the cards : I can act comedy, tragedy, farce : I can 
 drink down Bacchus himself. I can make any woman I please
 
 l8o THE CAXTONS. 
 
 in love with me that is, any woman good for nothing. Can 
 I earn a handsome livelihood out of all this wear kid gloves 
 and set up a cabriolet ? You see my wishes are modest ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. You speak two languages, you say, like a 
 native French, I suppose, is one of them ? 
 
 STRANGER. Yes. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Will you teach it ? 
 
 STRANGER (haughtily). No. Je suis gentilhomme^ which 
 means more or less than a gentleman. Gentilhomme means 
 well born, because free-born teachers are slaves ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS (unconsciously imitating Mr. Trevanion ). 
 Stuff ! 
 
 STRANGER (looks angry, and then laughs). Very true ; 
 stilts don't suit shoes like these ! But I cannot teach : Heaven 
 help those / should teach ! Anything else ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Anything else ! you leave me a wide mar- 
 gin. You know French thoroughly to write as well as speak ? 
 That is much. Give me some address where I can find you 
 or will you call on me ? 
 
 STRANGER. No ! Any evening at dusk I will meet you. 
 I have no address to give ; and I cannot show these rags at 
 another man's door. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. At nine in the evening, then, and here in 
 the Strand, on Thursday next. I may then have found some- 
 thing that will suit you. Meanwhile (slides his purse into the 
 Stranger's hand. N. B. Purse not very full). 
 
 Stranger, with the air of one conferring a favor, pockets the 
 purse ; and there is something so striking in the very absence 
 of all emotion at so accidental a rescue from starvation, that 
 Pisistratus exclaims : 
 
 " I don't know why I should have taken this fancy to you, 
 Mr. Daredevil, if that be the name that pleases you best. The 
 wood you are made of seems cross-grained, and full of knots ; 
 and yet, in the hands of a skilful carver, I think it would be 
 'worth much. 
 
 STRANGER (startled). Do you ? Do you ? None, I be- 
 lieve, ever thought that before. But the same wood, I suppose, 
 that makes the gibbet, could make the mast of a man-of-war. 
 I tell you, however, why you have taken this fancy to me the 
 strong sympathize with the strong. You, too, could subdue 
 fortune ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Stop; if so if there is congeniality between 
 us, then liking should be reciprocal. Come, say that ; for half 
 my chance of helping you is in my power to touch your heart.
 
 THE CAXTONS. l8l 
 
 STRANGER (evidently softened). If I were as great a 
 rogue as I ought to be, my answer would be easy enough. As 
 it is, I delay it. Adieu. On Thursday. 
 
 Stranger vanishes in the labyrinth of alleys round Leicester 
 Square. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ON my return to The Lamb, I found that my uncle was in a 
 soft sleep ; and after a morning visit from the surgeon, and his 
 assurance that the fever was fast subsiding, and all cause for 
 alarm was gone, I thought it necessary to go back to Tre- 
 vanion's house, and explain the reason for my night's absence. 
 But the family had not returned from the country. Trevanion 
 himself came up for a few hours in the afternoon, and seemed 
 to feel much for my poor uncle's illness. Though, as usual, 
 very busy, he accompanied me to The Lamb, to see my father, 
 and cheer him up. Roland still continued to mend, as the 
 surgeon phrased it ; and as we went back to St. James's 
 Square, Trevanion had the consideration to release me from 
 my oar in his galley for the next few days. My mind, relieved 
 from my anxiety for Roland, now turned to my new friend. 
 It had not been without an object that I had questioned the 
 young man as to his knowledge of French. Trevanion had a 
 large correspondence in foreign countries which was carried 
 on in that language, and here I could be but of little help to 
 him. He himself, though he spoke and wrote French with 
 fluency and grammatical correctness, wanted that intimate 
 knowledge of the most delicate and diplomatic of all languages 
 to satisfy his classical purism. For Trevanion was a terrible 
 word-weigher. His taste was the plague of my life and his 
 own. His prepared speeches (or rather perorations) were the 
 most finished pieces of cold diction that could be conceived 
 under the marble portico of the Stoics so filed and turned, 
 trimmed and tamed, that they never admitted a sentence that 
 could warm the heart, or one that could offend the ear. He 
 had so great a horror of a vulgarism that, like Canning, he 
 would have made a periphrasis of a couple of lines to avoid 
 using the word " cat." It was only in extempore speaking 
 that a ray of his real genius could indiscreetly betray itself. 
 One may judge what labor such a super-refinement of taste 
 would inflict upon a man writing in a language not his own to 
 some distinguished statesman, or some literary institution, 
 knowing that language just well enough to recognize all the 
 native elegances he failed to attain. Trevanion, at that very
 
 182 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 moment, was employed upon a statistical document, intended 
 as a communication to a society at Copenhagen, of which he 
 was an honorary member. It had been for three weeks the 
 torment of the whole house, especially of poor Fanny (whose 
 French was the best at our joint disposal). But Trevanion 
 had found her phraseology too mincing, too effeminate, too 
 much that of the boudoir. Here, then, was an opportunity to 
 introduce my new friend, and test the capacities that I fancied 
 he possessed. I therefore, though with some hesitation, led 
 the subject to " Remarks on the Mineral Treasures of Great 
 Britain and Ireland" (such was the title of the work intended 
 to enlighten the savans of Denmark) ; and, by certain ingenious 
 circumlocutions, know to all able applicants, I introduced my 
 acquaintance with a young gentleman who possessed the most 
 familiar and intimate knowledge of French, and who might be 
 of use in revising the manuscript. I knew enough of Tre- 
 vanion to feel that I could not revealthe circumstances under 
 which I had formed that acquaintance, for he was much too 
 practical a man not to have been frightened out of his wits at 
 the idea of submitting so classical a performance to so dis- 
 reputable a scapegrace. As it was, however, Trevanion, whose 
 mind at that moment was full of a thousand other things, 
 caught at my suggestion, with very little cross-questioning on 
 the subject, and before he left London consigned the manu- 
 script to my charge. 
 
 " My friend is poor," said I, timidly. 
 
 " Oh ! as to that," cried Trevanion hastily, " if it be a mat- 
 ter of charity, I put my purse in your hands ; but don't put 
 my manuscript in his ! If it be a matter of business, it is 
 another affair ; and I must judge of his work before I can say 
 how much it is worth perhaps nothing ! " 
 
 So ungracious was this excellent man in his very virtues ! 
 
 " Nay," said I, " it is a matter of business, and so we will 
 consider it." 
 
 " In that case," said Trevanion, concluding the matter, and 
 buttoning his pockets, " if I dislike his work, nothing ; if I like 
 it, twenty guineas. Where are the evening papers ? " and in 
 another moment the member of Parliament had forgotten the 
 statist, and was pishing and tutting over the Globe or the Sun. 
 
 On Thursday, my uncle was well enough to be moved into 
 our house ; and on the same evening, I went forth to keep my 
 appointment with the stranger, The clock struck nine as we 
 met. The palm of punctuality might be divided between us. 
 He had profited by the interval, since our last meeting, to
 
 THE CAXTONS. 183 
 
 repair the more obvious deficiencies of his wardrobe ; and 
 though there was something still wild, dissolute, outlandish, 
 about his whole appearance, yet in the elastic energy of his 
 step, and the resolute assurance of his bearing, there was that 
 which Nature gives to her own aristocracy ; for, as far as my 
 observation goes, what has been called the " grand air " (and 
 which is wholly distinct from the polish of manner, or the urbane 
 grace of high breeding) is always accompanied, and perhaps 
 produced, by two qualities courage, and the desire of com- 
 mand. It is more common to a half-savage nature than to one 
 wholly civilized. The Arab has it, so has the American 
 Indian : and I suspect that it was more frequent among the 
 knights and barons of the Middle Ages than it is among the 
 polished gentlemen of the modern drawing-room. 
 
 We shook hands, and walked on a few moments in silence ; 
 at length thus commenced the STRANGER : 
 
 " You have found it more difficult, I fear, than you imag- 
 ined, to make the empty sack stand upright. Considering 
 that at least one-third of those born to work cannot find it, 
 why should I ? " 
 
 PISISTRATUS. I am hard-hearted enough to believe that 
 work never fails to those who seek it in good earnest. It was 
 said of some man, famous for keeping his word, that " if he 
 had promised you an acorn, and all the oaks in England failed 
 to produce one, he would have sent to Norway for an acorn." 
 If I wanted work, and there was none to be had in the Old 
 World, I would find my way to the New. But, to the point : 
 I have found something for you, which I do not think your 
 taste will oppose, and which may open to you the means of an 
 honorable independence. But I cannot well explain it in the 
 streets : where shall we go ? 
 
 STRANGER (after some hesitation). I have a lodging 
 near here, which I need not blush to take you to I mean that 
 it is not among rogues and castaways. 
 
 PISISTRATUS (much pleased, and taking the stranger's 
 arm). Come then. 
 
 Pisistratus and the stranger pass over Waterloo Bridge, and 
 pause before a small house of respectable appearance. Stran- 
 ger admits them both with a latch-key, leads the way to the 
 third story, strikes a light, and does the honors to a small cham- 
 ber, clean and orderly. Pisistratus explains the task to be 
 done, and opens the manuscript. The stranger draws his chair 
 deliberately towards the light, and runs his eye rapidly over 
 the pages. Pisistratus trembles to see him pause before a
 
 184 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 long array of figures and calculations. Certainly it does not 
 look inviting ; but, pshaw ! it is scarcely a part of the task, 
 which limits itself to the mere correction of words. 
 
 STRANGER (briefly). There must be a mistake here - 
 stay ! I see (He turns back a few pages, and corrects 
 with rapid precision an error in a somewhat complicated and 
 abstruse calculation.) 
 
 PISISTRATUS (surprised). You seem a notable arithmeti- 
 cian. 
 
 STRANGER. Did I not tell you that I was skilful in all 
 games of mingled skill and chance ? It requires an arithmeti- 
 cal head for that : a first-rate card-player is a financier spoilt. 
 I am certain that you never could find a man fortunate on the 
 turf, or at the gaming-table, who had not an excellent head 
 for figures. Well, this French is good enough apparently ; 
 there are but a few idioms, here and there, that, strictly speak- 
 ing, are more English than French. But the whole is a work 
 scarce worth paying for ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. The work of the head fetches a price not 
 proportioned to the quantity, but the quality. When shall I 
 call for this ? 
 
 STRANGER. To-morrow. (And he puts the manuscript 
 away in a drawer.) 
 
 We then conversed on various matters for nearly an hour ; 
 and my impression of this young man's natural ability was 
 confirmed and heightened. But it was an ability as wrong and 
 perverse in its directions or instincts as a French novelist's. 
 He seemed to have, to a high degree, the harder portion of 
 the reasoning faculty, but to be almost wholly without that arch 
 beautifier of character, that sweet purifier of mere intellect 
 thf imagination. For, though we are too much taught to be 
 on our guard against imagination, I hold it, with Captain 
 Roland, to be the divinest kind ot reason we possess, and the 
 one that leads us the least astray. In youth, indeed, it 
 occasions errors, but they are not of a sordid or debasing 
 nature. Newton says that one final effect of the comets is to 
 recruit the seas and the planets by a condensation of the vapors 
 and exhalations therein ; and so even the erratic flashes of an 
 imagination really healthful and vigorous deepen our knowl- 
 edge and brighten our lights ; they recruit our seas and our 
 stars. Of such flashes my new friend was as innocent as the 
 sternest matter-of-fact person could desire. Fancies he had 
 in profusion, and very bad ones ; but of imagination not a 
 scintilla ! His mind was one of those which live in a prison
 
 THE CAXTONS. 185 
 
 of logic, and cannot, or will not, see beyond the bars : such a 
 nature is at once positive and sceptical. This boy had thought 
 proper to decide at once on the numberless complexities of 
 the social world from his own harsh experience. With him the 
 whole system was a war and a cheat. If the universe were 
 entirely composed of knaves, he would be sure to have made 
 his way. Now this bias of mind, alike shrewd and unamiable, 
 might be safe enough if accompanied by a lethargic temper ; 
 but it threatened to become terrible and dangerous in one who, 
 in default of imagination, possessed abundance of passion : 
 and this was the case with the young outcast. Passion, in him, 
 comprehended many of the worst emotions which militate 
 against human happiness. You could not contradict him, but 
 you raised quick cholei ; you could not speak of wealth, but 
 the cheek palec. with gnawing envy. The astonishing natural 
 advantages of this poor boy his beauty, his readiness, the dar- 
 ing spirit that breathed around him like a fiery atmosphere 
 had raised his constitutional self-confidence into an arrogance 
 that turned his very claims to admiration into prejudices against 
 him. Irascible, envious, arrogant bad enough, but not the 
 worst, for these salient angles were all varnished over with a 
 cold, repellent cynicism his passions vented themselves in 
 sneers. There seemed in him no moral susceptibility ; and 
 what was more remarkable in a proud nature, little or nothing 
 of the true point of honor. He had, to a morbid excess, that 
 desire to rise which is vulgarly called ambition, but no appa- 
 rent wish for fame, or esteem, or the love of his species ; only 
 the hard wish to succeed, not shine, not serve succeed, that 
 he might have the right to despise a world which galled his 
 self-conceit, and enjoy the pleasures which the redundant nerv- 
 ous life in him seemed to crave. Such were the more patent 
 attributes of a character that, ominous as it was, yet interested 
 me, and yet appeared to me to be redeemable nay, to have in it 
 the rude elements of a certain greatness. Ought we not to 
 make something great out of a youth under twenty, who has, 
 in the highest degree, quickness to conceive and courage to 
 execute ? On the other hand, all faculties that can make great- 
 ness contain those that can attain goodness. In the savage 
 Scandinavian, or the ruthless Frank, lay the germs of a Sidney 
 or a Bayard. What would the best of us be, if he were sud- 
 denly placed at war with the whole world ? And this fierce 
 spirit wassA. war with the whole world a war self-sought, per- 
 haps, but it was war not the less. You must surround the sav- 
 age with peace, if you want the virtues of peace.
 
 1 86 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 I cannot say that it was in a single interview and conference 
 that I came to these convictions ; but I am rather summing up 
 the impressions which I received as I saw more of this person, 
 whose destiny I presumed to take under my charge. 
 
 In going away, I said : " But, at all events, you have a name 
 in your lodgings : whom am I to ask for when I call to-mor- 
 row ? " 
 
 " Oh, you may know my name now," said he, smiling : " it is 
 Vivian Francis Vivian." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I REMEMBER one morning, when a boy, loitering by an old 
 wall, to watch the operations of a garden spider, whose wtb 
 seemed to be in great request. When I first stopped, she was 
 engaged very quietly with a fly of the domestic species, whom 
 she managed with ease and dignity. But just when she was 
 most interested in that absorbing employment, came a couple 
 of May-flies, and then a gnat, and then a blue-bottle all at 
 different angles of the web. Never was a poor spider so dis- 
 tracted by her good fortune ! She evidently did not know 
 which godsend to take first. The aboriginal victim being 
 released, she slid half-way towards the May-flies ; then one of 
 her eight eyes caught sight of the blue-bottle ! and she shot 
 off in that direction when the hum of the gnat again diverted 
 her ; and in the middle of this perplexity, pounce came a young 
 wasp in a violent passion ! Then the spider evidently lost her 
 presence of mind ; she became clean demented ; and after 
 standing, stupid and stock-still, in the middle of her meshes, 
 for a minute or two, she ran off to her hole as fast as she could 
 run, and left her guests to shift for themselves. I confess 
 that I am somewhat in the dilemma of the attractive and ami- 
 able insect I have just described. I got on well enough while 
 I had only my domestic fly to see after. But now that there 
 is something fluttering at every end of my net (and especially 
 since the advent of that passionate young wasp, who is fuming 
 and buzzing in the nearest corner !) I am fairly at a loss which 
 I should first grapple with and, alas ! unlike the spider, I 
 have no hole where I can hide myself, and let the web do the 
 weaver's work. But I will imitate the spider as far as I can ; 
 and while the rest hum and struggle away their impatient, 
 unnoticed hour, I will retreat into the inner labyrinth of my 
 own life. 
 
 The illness of my uncle, and my renewed acquaintance with
 
 THE CAXTONS. 187 
 
 Vivian, had naturally sufficed to draw my thoughts from the 
 rash and unpropitous love I had conceived for Fanny Tre- 
 vanion. During the absence of the family from London (and 
 they stayed some time longer than had been expected), I had 
 leisure, however, to recall my father's touching history, and 
 the moral it had so obviously preached to me ; and I formed 
 so many good resolutions, that it was with an untrembling 
 hand that I welcomed Miss Trevanion at last to London, and 
 with a firm heart that I avoided, as much as possible, the fatal 
 charm of her society. The slow convalescence of my uncle 
 gave me a just excuse to discontinue our rides. What time 
 Trevanion spared me, it was natural that I should spend with 
 my family. I went to no balls nor parties. I even absented 
 myself from Trevanion's periodical dinners. Miss Trevanion 
 at first rallied me on my seclusion, with her usual lively malice. 
 But I continued worthily to complete my martyrdom. I took 
 care that no reproachful look at the gayety that wrung my 
 soul should betray my secret. Then Fanny seemed either hurt 
 or disdainful, and avoided altogether entering her father's 
 study ; all at once, she changed her tactics, and was seized 
 with a strange desire for knowledge, which brought her into 
 the room to look for a book, or ask a question, ten times a 
 day. I was proof to all. But, to speak truth, I was pro- 
 foundly wretched. Looking back now, I am dismayed at the 
 remembrance of my own sufferings ; my health became seri- 
 ously affected ; I dreaded alike the trial of the day and the 
 anguish of the night. My only distractions were in my visits 
 to Vivian, and my escape to the dear circle of home. And 
 that home was my safeguard and preservative in that crisis of 
 my life : its atmosphere of unpretending honor and serene 
 virtue strengthened all my resolutions ; it braced me for my 
 struggles against the strongest passion which youth admits, 
 and counteracted the evil vapors of that air in which Vivian's 
 envenomed spirit breathed and moved. Without the influence 
 of such a home, if I had succeeded in the conduct that probity 
 enjoined towards those in whose house I was a trusted guest, 
 I do not think 1 could have resisted the contagion of that 
 malign and morbid bitterness against fate and the world, 
 which love, thwarted by fortune, is too inclined of itself to 
 conceive, and in the expression of which Vivian was not with- 
 out the eloquence that belongs to earnestness, whether in 
 truth or falsehood. But, somehow or other, I never left the 
 little room that contained the grand suffering in the face of 
 the veteran soldier, whose lip, often quivering with anguish,
 
 l88 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 was never heard to murmur ; and the tranquil wisdom which 
 had succeeded my father's early trials (trials like my own), 
 and the loving smile on my mother's tender face, and the 
 innocent childhood of Blanche (by which name the Elf had 
 familiarized herself to us), whom I already loved as a sister 
 without feeling that those four walls contained enough to 
 sweeten the world, had it been filled to its capacious brim with 
 gall and hyssop. 
 
 Trevanion had been more than satisfied with Vivian's per- 
 formance he had been struck with it. For though the cor- 
 rections in the mere phraseology had been very limited, they 
 went beyond verbal amendments they suggested such words 
 as improved the thoughts ; and, besides that notable correction 
 of an arithmetical error, which Trevanion's mind was formed 
 to over-appreciate, one or two brief annotations on the margin 
 were boldly hazarded, prompting some stronger link in a 
 chain of reasoning, or indicating the necessity for some further 
 evidence in the assertion of a statement. And all this from 
 the mere natural and naked logic of an acute mind, unaided 
 by the smallest knowledge of the subject treated of ! Trevan- 
 ion threw quite enough work into Vivian's hands, and at a 
 remuneration sufficiently liberal to realize my promise of an 
 independence. And more than once he asked me to introduce 
 to him my friend. But this I continued to elude heaven 
 knows, not from jealousy, but simply because I feared that 
 Vivian's manner and way of talk would singularly displease 
 one who detested presumption, and understood no eccentrici- 
 ties but his own. 
 
 Still Vivian, whose industry was of a strong wing, but only 
 for short flights, had not enough to employ more than a few 
 hours of his day, and I dreaded lest he should, from very idle- 
 ness, fall back into old habits, and reseek old friendships. 
 His cynical candor allowed that both were sufficiently disrep- 
 utable to justify grave apprehensions of such a result ; accord- 
 ingly, I contrived to find leisure in my evenings to lessen his 
 ennui, by accompanying him in rambles through the gas-lit 
 streets, or occasionally, for an hour or so, to one of the 
 theatres. 
 
 Vivian's first care, on finding himself rich enough, had been 
 bestowed on his person ; and those two faculties of observa- 
 tion and imitation which minds so ready always eminently 
 possess, had enabled him to achieve that graceful neatness 
 of costume peculiar to the English gentleman. For the first 
 few days of his metamorphosis, traces indeed of a constitu-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 189 
 
 tional love of show, or vulgar companionship, were noticeable ; 
 but one by one they disappeared. First went a gaudy neck- 
 cloth, with collars turned down ; then a pair of spurs van- 
 ished ; and lastly, a diabolical instrument that he called a 
 cane, but which, by means of a running bullet, could serve as 
 a bludgeon at one end, and concealed a dagger in the other, 
 subsided into the ordinary walking-stick adapted to our peace- 
 able metropolis. A similar change, though in a less degree, 
 gradually took place in his manner and his conversation. 
 He grew less abrupt in the one, and more calm, perhaps more 
 cheerful, in the other. It was evident that he was not insensi- 
 ble to the elevated pleasure of providing for himself by praise- 
 worthy exertion of feeling for the first time that his intellect 
 was of use to him, creditably. A new world, though still dim 
 seen through mist and fog began to dawn upon him. 
 
 Such is the vanity of us poor mortals, that my interest in 
 Vivian was probably increased, and my aversion to much in 
 him materially softened, by observing that I had gained a sort 
 of ascendency over his savage nature. When we had first met 
 by the roadside, and afterwards conversed in the churchyard, 
 the ascendency was certainly not on my side. But I now came 
 from a larger sphere of society than that in which he had yet 
 moved. I had seen and listened to the first men in England. 
 What had then dazzled me only, now moved my pity. On the 
 other hand, his active mind could not but observe the change 
 in me ; and, whether from envy or a better feeling, he was 
 willing to learn from me how to eclipse me, and resume his 
 earlier superiority not to be superior chafed him. Thus he 
 listened to me with docility when I pointed out the books 
 which connected themselves with the various subjects inci- 
 dental to the miscellaneous matters on which he was employed. 
 Though he had less of the literary turn of mind than any one 
 equally clever I had ever met, and had read little, considering 
 the quantity of thought he had acquired, and the show he 
 made of the few works with which he had voluntarily made 
 himself familiar, he yet resolutely sate himself down to study ; 
 and though it was clearly against the grain, I augured the 
 more favorably from tokens of a determination to do what was 
 at the present irksome for a purpose in the future. Yet, 
 whether I should have approved the purpose, had I thoroughly 
 understood it, is another question ! There were abysses, both 
 in his past life and in his character, which I could not pene- 
 trate. There was in him both a reckless frankness and a 
 vigilant reserve : his frankness was apparent in his talk on all
 
 190 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 matters immediately before us ; in the utter absence of all 
 effort to make himself seem better than he was. His reserve 
 was equally shown in the ingenious evasion of every species 
 of confidence that could admit me into such secrets of his life 
 as he chose to conceal : where he had been born, reared, and 
 educated ; how he came to be thrown on his own resources ; 
 how he had contrived, ho\v he had subsisted, were all matters 
 on which he had seemed to take an oath to Harpocrates, the 
 god of silence. And yet he was full of anecdotes of what he 
 had seen, of strange companions, whom he never named, but 
 with whom he had been thrown. And, to do him justice, I 
 remarked that, though his precocious experience seemed. to 
 have been gathered from the holes and corners, the sewers and 
 drains of life, and though he seemed wholly without dislike to 
 dishonesty, and to regard virtue or vice with as serene an 
 indifference as some grand poet who views them both merely 
 as ministrants to his art, yet he never betrayed any positive 
 breach of honesty in himself. He could laugh over the story 
 of some ingenious fraud that he had witnessed, and seem 
 insensible to its turpitude ; but he spoke of it in the tone of an 
 approving witness, not of an actual accomplice. As we grew 
 more intimate, he felt gradually, however, that/dfor, or instinc- 
 tive shame, which the contact with minds habituated to the dis- 
 tinctions between wrong and right unconsciously produces, and 
 such stories ceased. He never but once mentioned his family, 
 and that was in the following odd and abrupt manner : 
 
 " Ah ! " cried he one day, stopping suddenly before a print- 
 shop, " how that reminds me of my dear, dear mother." 
 
 " Which ?" said I eagerly, puzzled between an engraving 
 of Raffaelle's " Madonna," and another of " The Brigand's 
 Wife." 
 
 Vivian did not satisfy my curiosity, but drew me on in spite 
 of my reluctance. 
 
 " You loved your mother, then ? " said I, after a pause. 
 
 "Yes, as a whelp may a tigress." 
 
 " That's a strange comparison." 
 
 " Or a bull-dog may the prize-fighter, his master ! Do you 
 like that better ? " 
 
 " Not much ; is it a comparison your mother would like ? " 
 
 " Like ? she is dead ! " said he, rather falteringly. 
 
 I pressed his arm closer to mine. 
 
 " I understand you," said he, with his cynic, repellent smile. 
 " But you do wrong to feel for my loss. I feel for it ; but no 
 one who cares for me should sympathize with my grief."
 
 THE CAXTONS. igi 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because my mother was not what the world would call a 
 good woman. I did not love her the less for that. And now 
 let us change the subject." 
 
 " Nay ; since you have said so much, Vivian, let me coax 
 you to say on. Is not your father living ? " 
 
 " Is not the Monument standing ? " 
 
 " I suppose so ; what of that ? " 
 
 " Why, it matters very little to either of us ; and my question 
 answers yours ! " 
 
 I could not get on after this, and I never did get on a step 
 farther. I must own that if Vivian did not impart his con- 
 fidence liberally, neither did he seek confidence inquisitively 
 from me. He listened with interest if I spoke of Trevankm 
 (for I told him frankly of my connection with that personage, 
 though you may be sure that I said nothing of Fanny), and of 
 the brilliant world that my residence with one so distinguished 
 opened to me. But if ever, in the fulness of my heart, I be- 
 gan to speak of my parents, of my home, he evinced either so 
 impertinent an ennui, or assumed so chilling a sneer, that I 
 usually hurried away from him, as well as the subject, in 
 indignant disgust. Once especially, when I asked him to let 
 me introduce him to my father a point on which I was really 
 anxious, for I thought it impossible but that the devil within 
 him would be softened by that contact he said, with his low, 
 scornful laugh : 
 
 " My dear Caxton, when I was a child, I was so bored with 
 * Telemachus,' that, in order to endure it, 1 turned it into 
 travesty." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Are you not afraid that the same wicked disposition might 
 make a caricature of your Ulysses ? " 
 
 I did hot see Mr. Vivian for three days after that speech, 
 and I should not have seen him then, only we met, by acci- 
 dent, under the Colonnade of the Opera House. Vivian was 
 leaning against one of the columns,. and watching the long 
 procession which swept to the only temple in vogue that Art 
 has retained in the English Babel. Coaches and chariots, 
 blazoned with arms and coronets ; cabriolets (the brougham 
 had not then replaced them) of sober hue, but exquisite 
 appointment, with gigantic horses and pigmy " tigers," 
 dashed on, and rolled off before him. Fair women and gay 
 dresses, stars and ribbons the rank and the beauty of the 
 patrician world passed him by. And I could not resist the
 
 192 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 compassion with which this lonely, friendless, eager, discon- 
 tented spirit inspired me, gazing on that gorgeous existence 
 in which it fancied itself formed to shine, with the ardor of 
 desire and the despair of exclusion. By one glimpse of that 
 dark countenance, I read what was passing within the yet 
 darker heart. The emotion might not be amiable, nor the 
 thoughts wise, yet, were they unnatural ? I had experienced 
 something of them, not at the sight of gay-dressed people, of 
 wealth and idleness, pleasure and fashion ; but when, at the 
 doors of Parliament, men who have won noble names, and 
 whose word had weight on the destinies of glorious England, 
 brushed heedlessly by to their grand arena ; or when, amidst 
 the holiday growd of ignoble pomp, I had heard the murmur 
 of fame buzz and gather round some lordly laborer in art or 
 letters. That contrast between glory so near, and yet so far, 
 and one's own obscurity, of course I had felt it who has not ? 
 Alas ! many a youth not fated to be a Themistocles will yet feel 
 that the trophies of a Miltiades will not suffer him to sleep ! 
 So I went up to Vivian and laid my hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "Ah ! " said he, more gently than usual, " I am glad to see 
 you and to apologize I offended you the other day. But 
 you would not get very gracious answers from souls in Pur- 
 gatory, if you talked to them of the happiness of heaven. 
 Never speak to me about homes and fathers ! Enough, I see 
 you forgive me. Why are you not going to the opera ? You 
 can ? " 
 
 " And you, too, if you so please. A ticket is shamefully dear, 
 to be sure ; still, if you are fond of music, it is a luxury you 
 can afford." 
 
 " Oh, you flatter me if you fancy the prudence of saving 
 withholds me ! I did go the other night, but I shall not go 
 again. Music ! when you go to the opera, is it for the 
 music ? " 
 
 " Only partially, I own : the lights, the scene, the pageant, 
 attract me quite as much. But I do not think the opera a 
 very profitable pleasure for either of us. For rich, idle people, 
 I dare say, it may be as innocent an amusement as any other, 
 but I find it a sad enervator." 
 
 " And I just the reverse a horrible stimulant ! Caxton, 
 do you know that, ungracious as it will sound to you, I am 
 growing impatient of this ' honorable independence ' ! What 
 does it lead to ? board, clothes, and lodging can it ever 
 bring me anything more ? " 
 
 " At first, Vivian, you limited your aspirations to kid gloves
 
 THE CAXTONS. 193 
 
 and a cabriolet : it has brought the kid gloves already ; by 
 and by it will bring the cabriolet ! " 
 
 " Our wishes grow by what they feed on. You live in the 
 great world ; you can have excitement if you please it ; I want 
 excitement, I want the world, I want room for my mind, man ! 
 Do you understand me ? " 
 
 " Perfectly and sympathize with you, my poor Vivian ; but 
 it will all come. Patience, as I preached to you while dawn 
 rose so comfortless over the streets of London. You are not 
 losing time ; fill your mind ; read, study, fit yourself for am- 
 bition. Why wish to fly till you have got your wings ? Live 
 in books now : after all, they are splendid palaces, and open 
 to us all, rich and poor." 
 
 " Books, books ! Ah, you are the son of a bookman ! It 
 is not by books that men get on in the world, and enjoy life in 
 the mean while." 
 
 " I don't know that ; but, my good fellow, you want to do 
 both get on in the world as fast as labor can, and enjoy life 
 as pleasantly as indolence may. You want to live like the 
 butterfly, and yet have all the honey of the bee ; and, what 
 is the very deuce of the whole, even as the butterfly, you 
 ask every flower to grow up in a moment ; and, as a bee, the 
 whole hive must be stored in a quarter of an hour ! Patience, 
 patience, patience." 
 
 Vivian sighed a fierce sigh. " I suppose," said he, after an 
 unquiet pause, " that the vagrant and the outlaw are strong 
 in me, for I long to run back to my old existence, which was 
 all action, and therefore allowed no thought." 
 
 While he thus said, we had wandered round the Colonnade, 
 and were in that narrow passage in which is situated the more 
 private entrance to the opera : close by the doors of that 
 entrance, two or three young men were lounging. As Vivian 
 ceased, the voice of one of these loungers came laughingly to 
 our ears. 
 
 " Oh ! " it said, apparently in answer to some question, " I 
 have a much quicker way to fortune than that ; I mean to 
 marry an heiress ! " 
 
 Vivian started, and looked at the speaker. He was a very 
 good-looking fellow. Vivian continued to look at him, and 
 deliberately, from head to foot ; he then turned away with a 
 satisfied and thoughtful smile. 
 
 " Certainly," said I gravely (construing the smile), " you 
 are right there ; you are even better-looking than that heiress- 
 hunter ! "
 
 194 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Vivian colored ; but before he could answer, one of the 
 loungers, as the group recovered from the gay laugh which 
 their companion's easy coxcombry had excited, said : 
 
 " Then, by the way, if you want an heiress, here comes one 
 of the greatest in England ; but instead of being a younger 
 son, with three good lives between you and an Irish peerage, 
 one ought to be an earl at least to aspire to Fanny Trevanion ! " 
 
 The name thrilled through me I felt myself tremble and, 
 looking up, I saw Lady Ellinor and Miss Trevanion, as they 
 hurried from their carriage towards the entrance of the opera. 
 They both recognized me, and Fanny cried : 
 
 " You here ! How fortunate ! You must see us into the 
 box, even if you run away the moment after." 
 
 " But I am not dressed for the opera," said I, embarrassed. 
 
 "And why not ?" asked Miss Trevanion; then, dropping 
 her voice, she added : " Why do you desert us so wilfully ? " 
 and, leaning her hand on my arm, I was drawn irresistibly 
 into the lobby. The young loungers at the door made way 
 for us, and eyed me, no doubt, with envy. 
 
 " Nay ! " said I, affecting to laugh, as I saw Miss Trevan- 
 ion waited for my reply. " You forget how little time I have 
 for such amusements now and my uncle " 
 
 " Oh, but mamma and I have been to see your uncle to-day, 
 and he is nearly well is he not, mamma ? I cannot tell you 
 how I like and admire him. He is just what I fancy a Doug- 
 las of the old day. But mamma is impatient. Well, you 
 must dine with us to-morrow promise ! not adieu but au 
 revoir" and Fanny glided to her mother's arm. Lady Ellinor, 
 always kind and courteous to me, had good-naturedly lingered 
 till this dialogue, or rather monologue, was over. 
 
 On returning to the passage, 1 found Vivian walking to and 
 fro ; he had lighted his cigar, and was smoking energetically. 
 
 " So this great heiress," said he, smiling, " who, as far as I 
 could see under her hood seems no less fair than rich, is 
 the daughter, I presume, of the Mr. Trevanion whose effusions 
 you so kindly submit to me. He is very rich, then? You 
 never said so, yet I ought to have known it : but you see I 
 know nothing of your beau monde not even that Miss Tre- 
 vanion is one of the greatest heiresses in England." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Trevanion is rich," said I, repressing a sigh 
 " very rich." 
 
 " And you are his secretary ! My dear friend, you may 
 well offer me patience, for a large stock of yours will, I hope, 
 be superfluous to you."
 
 THE CAXTONS. IQ5 
 
 " I don't understand you." 
 
 "Yet you heard that young gentleman, as well as myself ; 
 and you are in the same house as the heiress." 
 
 " Vivian .' " 
 
 " Well, what have I said so monstrous ? " 
 
 " Pooh ! since you refer to that young gentleman, you 
 heard, too, what his companion told him ' one ought to be 
 an earl, at least, to aspire to Fanny Trevanion ! ' ' 
 
 " Tut ! as well say that one ought to be a millionnaire to 
 aspire to a million ! yet I believe those who make millions 
 generally begin with pence." 
 
 " That belief should be a comfort and encouragement to 
 you, Vivian. And, now, good-night ; I have much to do." 
 
 " Good-night, then," said Vivian, and we parted.' 
 
 I made my way to Mr. Trevanion 's house, and to the study. 
 There was a formidable arrear of business waiting for me, and 
 I sate down to it at first resolutely ; but, by degrees, I found 
 my thoughts wandering from the eternal blue-books, and the 
 pen slipped from my hand, in the midst of an extract from a 
 Report on Sierra Leone. My pulse beat loud and quick ; I 
 was in that state of nervous fever which only emotion can 
 occasion. The sweet voice of Fanny rang in my ears ; her 
 eyes, as I had last met them, unusually gentle, almost beseech- 
 ing, gazed upon me wherever I turned: and then, as in mock- 
 ery, I heard again those words : " One ought to be an earl, at 
 least, to aspire to " Oh ! did I aspire ? Was I vain fool so 
 frantic? Household traitor so consummate ? No, no ! Then 
 what did I under the same roof ? Why stay to imbibe this 
 sweet poison, that was corroding the very springs of my life ? 
 At that self-question, which, had I been but a year or two 
 older, I should have asked long before, a mortal terror seized 
 me ; the blood rushed from my heart, and left me cold icy cold. 
 To leave the house ! Leave Fanny ! Never again to see 
 those eyes never to hear that voice ! better die of the sweet 
 poison than of the desolate exile ! I rose I opened the win- 
 dows I walked to and fro the room : I could decide nothing, 
 think of nothing ; all my mind was in an uproar. With a violent 
 effort at self-mastery, I approached the table again. I resolved 
 to force myself to my task, if it were only to re-collect my facul- 
 ties, and enable them to bear my own torture. I turned over the 
 books impatiently, when, lo ! buried amongst them, what met 
 my eye archly, yet reproachfully the face of Fanny herself ! 
 Her miniature was there. It had been, I knew, taken a few 
 days before, by a young artist whom Trevanion patronized. I
 
 196 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 suppose he had carried it into his study to examine it, and se 
 left it there carelessly. The painter had seized her peculiar ex- 
 pression her ineffable smile so charming, so malicious ; even 
 her favorite posture the small head turned over the rounded 
 Hebe-like shoulder, the eye glancing up from under the hair. 
 I know not what change in my madness came over me ; but I 
 sank on my knees, and, kissing the miniature again and again, 
 burst into tears. Such tears ! I did not hear the door open, 
 1 did not see the shadow steal over the floor : a light hand 
 rested on my shoulder, trembling as it rested I started. 
 Fanny herself was bending over me ! 
 
 "What is the matter? "she asked tenderly. " What has 
 happened ? Your uncle your family all well ? Why are 
 you weeping ? " 
 
 I could not answer ; but I kept my hands clasped over the 
 miniature, that she might not see what they contained. 
 
 " Will you not answer ? Am I not your friend ? almost 
 your sister ? Come, shall I call mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes yes ; go go." 
 
 " No, I will not go yet. What have you there ? What are 
 you hiding? " 
 
 And innocently, and sister-like, those hands took mine ; and 
 so and so the picture became visible ! There was a dead 
 silence. I looked up through my tears. Fanny had recoiled 
 some steps, and her cheek was very flushed, her eyes downcast. 
 I felt as if I had committed a crime as if dishonor clung to 
 me ; and yet I repressed yes, thank Heaven ! I repressed 
 the cry that swelled from my heart, that rushed to my lips : 
 " Pity me, for I love you ! " I repressed it, and only a groan 
 escaped me the wail of my lost happiness ! Then, rising, I 
 laid the miniature on the tiible, and said, in a voice that I 
 believe was firm : 
 
 " Miss Trevanion, you have been as kind as a sister to me, 
 and therefore I was bidding a brother's farewell to your like- 
 ness ; it is so like you this ! " 
 
 " Farewell ! " echoed Fanny, still not looking up. 
 
 "Farewell sister! There, I have boldly said the word; 
 for for " I hurried to the door, and, there turning, added, 
 with what I meant to be a smile " for they say at home that 
 I I am not well ; too much for me this ; you know mothers 
 will be foolish ; and and I am to speak to your father to- 
 morrow ; and good-night God bless you, Miss Trevanion ! "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 197 
 
 PART NINTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AND my father pushed aside his books. 
 
 O young reader, whoever thou art, or reader, at least, who 
 hast been young canst thou not remember some time when, 
 with thy wild troubles and sorrows as yet borne in secret, thou 
 hast come back from that hard, stern world which opens on 
 thee when thou puttest thy foot out of the threshold of home 
 come back to the four quiet walls, wherein thine elders sit in 
 peace, and seen, with a sort of sad amaze, ho\v calm and undis- 
 turbed all is there ? That generation which has gone before 
 thee in the path of the passions the generation of thy 
 parents (not so many years, perchance, remote from thine 
 own) how immovably far off, in its still repose, it seems from 
 thy turbulent youth ! It has in it a stillness as of a classic 
 age, antique as the statues of the Greeks. That tranquil 
 monotony of routine into which those lives that preceded thee 
 have merged, the occupations that they have found sufficing 
 for their happiness, by the fireside in the arm-chair and 
 corner appropriated to each how strangely they contrast 
 thine own feverish excitement ! And they make room for 
 thee, and bid thee welcome, and then resettle to their hushed 
 pursuits, as if nothing had happened ! Nothing had hap- 
 pened ! while in thy heart, perhaps, the whole world seems to 
 have shot from its axis, all the elements to be at war ! And 
 you sit down, crushed by that quiet happiness which you can 
 share no more, and smile mechanically, and look into the fire ; 
 and, ten to one, you say nothing till the time comes for bed, 
 and you take up your candle, and creep miserably to your 
 lonely room. 
 
 Now, if in a stage-coach in the depth of winter, when three 
 passengers are warm and snug, a fourth, all besnowed and 
 frozen, descends from the outside and takes place amongst 
 them, straightway all the three passengers shift their places, 
 uneasily pull up their cloak collars, re-arrange their " com- 
 forters," feel indignantly a sensible loss of caloric the intruder 
 has at least made a sensation. But if you had all the snows 
 of the Grampians in your heart, you might enter unnoticed ; 
 take care not to tread on the toes of your opposite neighbor, 
 and not a soul is disturbed, not a "comforter" stirs an inch J
 
 198 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 I had not slept a wink, I had not even lain down all that 
 night the night in which I had said farewell to Fanny Tre- 
 vanion and the next morning, when the sun rose, I wandered 
 out, where I know not. I have a dim recollection of long, 
 gray, solitary streets, of the river that seemed flowing in dull, 
 sullen silence, away, far away, into some invisible eternity ; 
 trees and turf, and the gay voices of children. I must have 
 gone from one end of the great Babel to the other : but my 
 memory only became clear and distinct when I knocked, some- 
 where before noon, at the door of my father's house, and, pass- 
 ing heavily up the stairs, came into the drawing-room, which 
 was the rendezvous of the little family ; for, since we had been 
 in London, my father had ceased to have his study apart, and 
 contented himself with what he called " a corner " a corner 
 wide enough to contain two tables and a dumb waiter, with 
 chairs a discretion all littered with books. On the opposite 
 side of this capacious corner sat my uncle, now nearly con- 
 valescent, and he was jotting down, in his stiff, military hand, 
 certain figures in a little red account-book for you know 
 already that my Uncle Roland was, in his expenses, the most 
 methodical of men. 
 
 My father's face was more benign than usual, for before him 
 lay a proof the first proof of his first work his one work 
 the Great Book ! Yes ! it had positively found a press. And 
 the first proof of your first work ask any author what tJiat is ! 
 My mother was out, with the faithful Mrs. Primmins, shopping 
 or marketing, no doubt ; so, while the brothers were thus 
 engaged, it was natural that my entrance should not make as 
 much noise as if it had been a bomb, or a singer, or a clap of 
 thunder, or the last "great novel of the season," or anything 
 else that made a noise in those days. For what makes a noise 
 now? Now, when the most astonishing thing of all is our 
 easy familiarity with things astounding : when we say listlessly, 
 " Another revolution at Paris," or, " By the by, there is the 
 deuce to do at Vienna ! " when De Joinville is catching fish in 
 the ponds at Claremont, and you hardly turn back to look at 
 Metternich on the pier at Brighton ! 
 
 My uncle nodded and growled indistinctly ; my father 
 " Put aside his books; you have told us that already." 
 Sir, you are very much mistaken ; it was not then that he 
 put aside his books, for he was not then engaged in them 
 he was reading his proof. And he smiled, and pointed to it 
 (the proof I mean) pathetically, and with a kind of humor, as 
 much as to say : " What can you expect, Pisistratus ? my
 
 CAXTONS. 199 
 
 new baby in short clothes or long primer, which is all the 
 same thing ! " 
 
 I took a chair between the two, and looked first at one, then 
 at the other. Heaven forgive me ! I felt a rebellious, un- 
 grateful spite against both. The bitterness of my soul must 
 have been deep indeed, to have overflowed in that direction, 
 but it did. The grief of youth is an abominable egotist, and 
 that is the truth. I got up from the chair and walked towards 
 the window ; it was open, and outside the window was Mrs. 
 Primmins' canary, in its cage. London air had agreed with it, 
 and it was singing lustily. Now, when the canary saw me 
 standing opposite to its cage, and regarding it seriously, and, 
 I have no doubt, with a very sombre aspect, the creature stopped 
 short, and hung its head on one side, looking at me obliquely 
 and suspiciously. Finding that I did it no harm, it began to 
 hazard a few broken notes, timidly and interrogatively, as it 
 were, pausing between each ; and at length, as I made no 
 reply, it evidently thought it had solved the doubt, and ascer- 
 tained that I was more to be pitied than feared, for it stole 
 gradually into so soft and silvery a strain that, I verily believe, 
 it did it on purpose to comfort me ! me, its old friend, whom 
 it had unjustly suspected. Never did any music touch me so 
 home as did that long, plaintive cadence. And when the bird 
 ceased, it perched itself close to the bars of the cage, and 
 looked at me steadily with its bright, intelligent eyes. I felt 
 mine water, and I turned back and stood in the centre of 
 the room, irresolute what to do, where to go. My father 
 had done with the proof, and was deep in his folios. Roland 
 had clasped his red account book, restored it to his pocket, 
 wiped his pen carefully, and now watched me from under his 
 great beetle-brows. Suddenly he rose, and, stamping on the 
 hearth with his cork leg, exclaimed : " Look up from those 
 cursed books, Brother Austin ! What is there in your son's 
 face ? Construe that if you can ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AND my father pushed aside his books, and rose hastily. 
 He took off his spectacles, and rubbed them mechanically, but 
 he said nothing ; and my uncle, staring at him for a moment 
 in surprise at his silence, burst out : 
 
 " Oh ! I see ; he has been getting into some scrape, and you 
 are angry. Fie ! young blood will have its way, Austin it
 
 200 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 will. I don't blame that it is only when come here, Sisty. 
 Zounds ! man, come here." 
 
 My father gently brushed off the Captain's hand, and, ad- 
 vancing towards me, opened his arms. The next moment I 
 was sobbing on his breast. 
 
 " But what is the matter ?" cried Captain Roland: "Will 
 nobody say what is the matter ? Money, I suppose money, 
 you confounded extravagant young dog. Luckily you have 
 got an uncle who has more than he knows what to do with. 
 How much? Fifty? A hundred ? Two hundred ? How can 
 I write the check, if you'll not speak ? " 
 
 " Hush, brother ! it is no money you can give that will set 
 this right. My poor boy ! Have I guessed truly ? Did I 
 guess truly the other evening, when " 
 
 " Yes, sir, yes ! I have been so wretched. But I am better 
 now I can tell you all." 
 
 My uncle moved slowly towards the door : his fine sense of 
 delicacy made him think that even he was out of place in the 
 confidence between son and father. 
 
 "No, uncle," I said, holding out my hand to him, "stay; 
 you too can advise me strengthen me. I have kept my honor 
 yet help me to keep it still." 
 
 At the sound of the word honor, Captain Roland stood mute, 
 and raised his head quickly. 
 
 So I told all incoherently enough at first, but clearly and 
 manfully as I went on. Now I know that it is not the custom 
 of lovers to confide in fathers and uncles. Judging by those 
 mirrors of life, plays and novels, they choose better valets 
 and chambermaids, and friends whom they have picked up in 
 the street, as I had picked up poor Francis Vivian to these 
 they make clean breasts of their troubles. But fathers and 
 uncles to them they are close, impregnable, "buttoned to the 
 chin." The Caxtons were an eccentric family, and never did 
 anything like other people. When I had ended, I lifted up 
 my eyes, and said pleadingly : " Now, tell me, is there no 
 hope none?" 
 
 " Why should there be none ? " cried Captain Roland hastily ; 
 " The De Caxtons are as good a family as the Trevanions ; 
 and as for yourself, all I will say is, that the young lady might 
 choose worse for her own happiness." 
 
 I wrung my uncle's hand, and turned to my father in anxious 
 fear, for I knew that, in spite of his secluded habits, few men 
 ever formed a sounder judgment on worldly matters, when he 
 was fairly drawn to look at them. A thing wonderful is that
 
 THE CAXTONS. 2O1 
 
 plain wisdom which scholars and poets often have for others, 
 though they rarely deign to use it for themselves. And how 
 on earth do they get at it ? I looked at my father, and the 
 vague hope Roland had excited fell as I looked. 
 
 " Brother," said he slowly, and shaking his head, " the 
 world, which gives codes and laws to those who live in it, does 
 not care much for a pedigree, unless it goes with a title-deed 
 to estates," 
 
 " Trevanion was not richer than Pisistratus when he married 
 Lady Ellinor," said my uncle. 
 
 " True ; but Lady Ellinor was not then an heiress, and her 
 father viewed these matters as no other peer in England per- 
 haps would. As for Trevanion himself, I dare say he has no 
 prejudices about station, but he is strong in common-sense. 
 He values himself on being a practical man. It would be 
 folly to talk to him of love, and the affections of youth. He 
 would see in the son of Austin Caxton, living on the interest 
 of some fifteen or sixteen thousand pounds, such a match for 
 his daughter as no prudent man in his position could approve. 
 And as for Lady Ellinor " 
 
 " She owes us much, Austin ! " exclaimed Roland, his face 
 darkening. 
 
 " Lady Etlinor is now what, if we had known her better, she 
 promised always to be the ambitious, brilliant, scheming 
 woman of the world. Is it not so, Pisistratus ? " 
 
 I said nothing, I felt too much. 
 
 " And does the girl like you ? but I think it is clear she 
 does ! " exclaimed Roland. " Fate fate ; it has been a fatal 
 family to us ! Zounds ! Austin, it was your fault. Why 
 did you let him go there ? " 
 
 " My son is now a man at least in heart, if not in years ; 
 can man be shut from danger and trial ? They found me in 
 the old parsonage, brother ! " said my father mildly. 
 
 My uncle walked, or rather stumped, three times up and 
 down the room ; and he then stopped short, folded his arms, 
 and came to a decision : 
 
 " If the girl likes you, your duty is doubly clear you can't 
 take advantage of it. You have done right to leave the house, 
 for the temptation might be too strong." 
 
 " But what excuse shall I make to Mr. Trevanion ? " said I 
 feebly " What story can I invent? So careless as he is while 
 he trusts, so penetrating if he once suspects, he will see through 
 all my subterfuges, and and " 
 
 " It is as plain as a pikestaff," said my uncle abruptly 1
 
 202 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " and there need be no subterfuge in the matter. ' I must 
 leave you, Mr. Trevanion.' ' Why ?' says he. ' Don't ask me.' 
 He insists. ' Well then, sir, if you must know, I love your 
 daughter. I have nothing, she is a great heiress. You will 
 not approve of that love, and therefore I leave you ! ' That 
 is the course that becomes an English gentleman. Eh, Austin ? " 
 
 " You are never wrong when your instincts speak, Roland," 
 said my father. " Can you say this, Pisistratus, or shall I say 
 it for you ? " 
 
 " Let him say it himself," said Roland ; " and let him judge 
 himself of the answer. He is young, he is clever, he may 
 make a figure in the world. Trevanion may answer : ' Win 
 the lady after you have won the laurel, like the knights of old.' 
 At all events, you will hear the worst." 
 
 " I will go," said I firmly ; and I took my hat and left the 
 room. As I was passing the landing-place, a light step stole 
 down the upper flight of stairs, and a little hand seized my 
 own. I turned quickly, and met the full, dark, seriously sweet 
 eyes of my Cousin Blanche. 
 
 " Don't go away yet, Sisty," said she coaxingly. " I have 
 been waiting for you, for I heard your voice, and did not like 
 to come in and disturb you." 
 
 " And why did you wait for me, my little Blanche ? " 
 
 " Why ! only to see you. But your eyes are red. Oh, 
 cousin ! " and, before I was aware of her childish impulse, 
 she had sprung to my neck and kissed me. Now Blanche 
 was not like most children, and was very sparing of her 
 caresses. So it was out of the deeps of a kind heart that that 
 kiss came. I returned it without a word ; and, putting her 
 down gently, descended the stairs, and was in the streets. 
 But I had not got far before I heard my father's voice ; and 
 he came up, and hooking his arm into mine, said: "Are 
 there not two of us that suffer ? let us be together ! " I 
 pressed his arm, and we walked on in silence. But when we 
 were near Trevanion's house, I said hesitatingly : " Would it 
 not be better, sir, that I went in alone. If there is to be an 
 explanation between Mr. Trevanion and myself, would it not 
 seem as if your presence implied either a request to him that 
 would lower us both, or a doubt of me that " 
 
 " You will go in alone, of course : I will wait for you " 
 
 " Not in the streets oh, no ! father," cried I, touched inex- 
 pressibly. For all this was so unlike my father's habits, that 
 I felt remorse to have so communicated my young griefs to 
 the calm dignity of his serene life.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 203 
 
 " My son, you do not know how I love you. I have only 
 known it myself lately. Look you, I am living in you now, 
 my first-born ; not in my other son the Great Book : I must 
 have my way. Go in ; that is the door, is it not ? " 
 
 I pressed my father's hand, and I felt then, that while that 
 hand could reply to mine, even the loss of Fanny Trevanion 
 could not leave the world a blank. How much we have before 
 us in life, while we retain our parents ! How much to strive 
 and to hope for ! What a motive in the conquest of our sor- 
 row that they may not sorrow with us ! 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I ENTERED Trevanion's study. It was an hour in which he 
 was rarely at home, but I had not thought of that ; and I saw 
 without surprise that, contrary to his custom, he was in his 
 arm-chair, reading one of his favorite classic authors, 
 instead of being in some committee-room of the House of 
 Commons. 
 
 "A pretty fellow you are," said he, looking up, "to leave 
 me all the morning, without rhyme or reason ! And my com- 
 mittee is postponed chairman ill ; people who get ill should 
 not go into the House of Commons. So here I am looking 
 into Propertius : Parr is right ; not so elegant a writer as 
 Tibullus. But what the deuce are you about ? Why don't 
 you sit down ? Humph ! you look grave you have something 
 to say say it ! " 
 
 And, putting down Propertius, the acute, sharp face of 
 Trevanion instantly became earnest and attentive. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Trevanion," said I with as much steadiness 
 as I could assume, " you have been most kind to me ; and out 
 of my own family there is no man I love and respect more." 
 
 TREVANION. Humph ! What's all this ? (In an under- 
 tone). Am I going to be taken in ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Do not think me ungrateful, then, when I 
 say I come to resign my office to leave the house where I 
 have been so happy. 
 
 TREVANION. Leave the house ! Pooh ! I have overtasked 
 you. I will be more merciful in future. You must forgive a 
 political economist ; it is the fault of my sect to look upon 
 men as machines. 
 
 PISISTRATUS (smiling faintly). No, indeed ; that is not it ! 
 I have nothing to complain of ; nothing I could wish altered 
 could I stay.
 
 204 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 TREVANION (examining me thoughtfully). And does your 
 father approve of your leaving me thus ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Yes fully. 
 
 TREVANION (musing a moment). I see, he would send you 
 to the University, make you a book-worm like himself : pooh ! 
 that will not do you will never become wholly a man of books, 
 it is not in you. Young man, though I may seem careless, I 
 read characters, when I please it, pretty quickly. You do 
 wrong to leave me ; you are made for the great world I can 
 open to you a high career. I wish to do so ! Lady Ellinor 
 wishes it nay, insists on.it for your father's sake as well 
 as yours. I never ask a favor from ministers, and I never 
 will. But (here Trevanion rose suddenly, and, with an erect 
 mien and a quick gesture of his arm, he added) but a minis- 
 ter can dispose as he pleases of his patronage. Look you, it 
 is a secret yet, and I trust to your honor. But, before the 
 year is out, I must be in the cabinet. Stay with me, I guaran- 
 tee your fortunes three months ago I would not have said 
 that. By and by I will open Parliament for you you are not 
 of age yet work till then. And now sit down and write my 
 letters a sad arrear ! 
 
 " My dear, dear Mr. Trevanion ! " said I, so affected that I 
 could scarcely speak, and seizing his hand, which I pressed 
 between both mine " I dare not thank you I cannot ! But 
 you don't know my heart it is not ambition. No ! if I could 
 but stay here on the same terms forever here " looking rue- 
 fully on that spot where Fanny had stood the night before. 
 "But it is impossible ! If you knew all, you would be the first 
 to bid me go ! " 
 
 " You are in debt," said the man of the world coldly. " Bad, 
 very bad still " 
 
 " No, sir ; no ! worse " 
 
 " Hardly possible to be worse, young man hardly ! But, 
 just as you will ; you leave me, and will not say why. Good- 
 by. Why do you linger ? " Shake hands, and go ! " 
 
 " I cannot leave you thus : I I sir, the truth shall out. I 
 am rash and mad enough not to see Miss Trevanion without 
 forgetting that I am poor, and " 
 
 " Ha ! " interrupted Trevanion softly, and growing pale, 
 "this is a misfortune, indeed! And I, who talked of read- 
 ing characters ! Truly, truly, we would-be practical men 
 are fools fools ! And you have made love to my daugh- 
 ter ! " 
 
 " Sir ? Mr. Trevanion ! no never, never so base { In
 
 THE CAXTONS. 265 
 
 your house, trusted by you how could you think it ? I dared, 
 it may be, to love at all events, to feel that I could not be 
 insensible to a temptation too strong for me. But to say it 
 to your heiress to ask love in return I would as soon have 
 broken open your desk ! Frankly I tell you my folly : it is a 
 folly, not a disgrace." 
 
 Trevanion came up to me abruptly, as I leant against the 
 book-case, and, grasping my hand with a cordial kindness, 
 said : " Pardon me ! You have behaved as your father's son 
 should I envy him such a son ! Now, listen to me I cannot 
 give you my daughter " 
 
 " Believe me, sir, I never " 
 
 " Tut, listen ! I cannot give you my daughter. I say noth- 
 ing of inequality all gentlemen are equal ; and if not, any 
 impertinent affectation of superiority, in such a case, would 
 come ill from one who owes his own fortune to his wife ! But, 
 as it is, I have a stake in the world, won not by fortune only, 
 but the labor of a life, the suppression of half my nature the 
 drudging, squaring, taming down all that made the glory and 
 joy of my youth to be that hard, matter-of-fact thing which 
 the English world expect in a statesman! This station has 
 gradually opened into its natural result power ! I tell you I 
 shall soon have high office in the administration : I hope to 
 render great services to England, for we English politicians, 
 whatever the mob and the press say of us, are not selfish place- 
 hunters. I refused office, as high as I look for now, ten years 
 ago. We believe in our opinions, and we hail the power that 
 may carry them into effect. In this cabinet I shall have 
 enemies. Oh, don't think we leave jealousy behind us, at the 
 doors of Downing Street ! I shall be one of a minority. I 
 know well what must happen : like all men in power, I must 
 strengthen myself by other heads and hands than my own. 
 My daughter shall bring to me the alliance of that house in 
 England which is most necessary to me. My life falls to the 
 ground, like a child's pyramid of cards, if I waste I do not 
 say on you, but on men of ten times your fortune (whatever 
 that be), the means of strength which are at my disposal in 
 the hand of Fanny Trevanion. To this end I have looked ; 
 but to this end her mother has schemed for these household 
 matters are within a man's hopes, but belong to a woman's 
 policy. So much for us. But to you, my dear, and frank, and 
 high-souled young friend to you, if I were not Fanny's 
 father if I were your nearest relation, and Fanny could be had 
 for the asking, with all her princely dower (for it is princely)
 
 20 THE CAXTONS'. 
 
 to you I should say, fly from a load upon the heart, on the 
 genius, the energy, the pride, and the spirit, which not one 
 man in ten thousand can bear ; fly from the curse of owing 
 everything to a wife ! It is a reversal of all natural position, 
 it is a blow to all the manhood within us. You know not 
 what it is ; I do ! My wife's fortune came not till after mar- 
 riage so far, so well ; it saved my reputation from the charge 
 of fortune-hunting. But, I tell you, fairly, that if it had never 
 come at all, I should be a prouder, and a greater, and a happier 
 man than I have ever been, or ever can be, with all its advan- 
 tages ; it has been a millstone round my neck. And yet 
 Ellinor has never breathed a word that could wound my pride. 
 Would her daughter be as forbearing? Much as I love 
 Fanny, I doubt if she has the great heart of her mother. You 
 look incredulous naturally. Oh, you think I shall sacrifice 
 my child's happiness to a politician's ambition. Folly of youth ! 
 Fanny would be wretched with you. She might not think so 
 now; she would five years hence! Fanny will make an 
 admirable duchess, countess, great lady ; but wife to a man 
 who owes all to her! No, no, don't dream it ! I shall not 
 sacrifice her happiness, depend on it. I speak plainly, as man 
 to man man of the world to a man just entering it but still 
 man to man ! What say you ? " 
 
 " I will think over all you tell me. I know that you are 
 speaking to me most generously as a father would. Now let 
 me go, and may God keep you and yours ! " 
 
 " Go I return your blessing go ! I don't insult you now 
 with offers of service ; but, remember, you have a right to 
 command them in all ways, in all times. Stop ! Take this 
 comfort away with you a sorry comfort now, a great one 
 hereafter. In a position that might have moved anger, scorn, 
 pity, you have made a barren-hearted man honor and admire 
 you. You, a boy, have made me, with my gray hairs, think 
 better of the whole world : tell your father that." 
 
 I closed the door, and stole out softly softly. But when I 
 got into the hall, Fanny suddenly opened the door of the 
 breakfast parlor, and seemed, by her look, her gesture, to 
 invite me in. Her face was very pale, and there were traces 
 of tears on the heavy lids. 
 
 I stood still a moment, and my heart beat violently. I then 
 muttered something inarticulately, and, bowing low, hastened 
 to the door. 
 
 I thought, but my ears might deceive me, that I heard my 
 name pronounced ; but fortunately the tall porter started from
 
 THE CAXTONS. 207 
 
 his newspaper and his leathern chair, and the entrance stood 
 open. I joined my father. 
 
 " It is all over," said I, with a resolute smile. " And now, 
 my dear father, I feel how grateful I should be for all that 
 your lessons your life have taught me ; for, believe me, I 
 am not unhappy." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WE came back to my father's house, and on the stairs we 
 met my mother, whom Roland's grave looks, and her Austin's 
 strange absence, had alarmed. My father quietly led the way 
 to a little room, which my mother had appropriated to Blanche 
 and herself ; and then, placing my hand in that which had 
 helped his own steps from the stony path down the quiet vales 
 of life, he said to me : "Nature gives you here the soother"; 
 and, so saying, he left the room. 
 
 And it was true, O my mother ! that in thy simple, loving 
 breast nature did place the deep wells of comfort ! We come 
 to men for philosophy, to women for consolation. And the 
 thousand weaknesses and regrets the sharp sands of the 
 minutiae that make up sorrow all these, which I could have 
 betrayed to no man not even to him, the dearest and tenderest 
 of all men I showed without shame to thee ! And thy tears, 
 that fell on my cheek, had the balm of Araby ; and my heart, 
 at length, lay lulled and soothed under thy moist, gentle eyes. 
 
 I made an effort, and joined the little circle at dinner ; and 
 I felt grateful that no violent attempt was made to raise my 
 spirits nothing but affection, more subdued, and soft, and 
 tranquil. Even little Blanche, as if by the intuition of sym- 
 pathy, ceased her babble, and seemed to hush her footstep as 
 she crept to my side. But after dinner, when we had reas- 
 sembled in the drawing-room, and the lights shone bright, and 
 the curtains were let down, and only the quick roll of some 
 passing wheels reminded us that there was a world without, 
 my father began to talk. He had laid aside all his work ; the 
 younger but less perishable child was forgotten and my 
 father began to talk. 
 
 " It is," said he musingly, " a well-known thing that particu- 
 lar drugs or herbs suit the body according to its particular 
 diseases. When we are ill, we don't open our medicine-chest 
 at random, and take out any powder or phial that comes to 
 hand. The skilful doctor is he who adjusts the dose to the 
 malady."
 
 208 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Of that there can be no doubt," quoth Captain Roland. 
 " I remember a notable instance of the justice of what you say. 
 When I was in Spain, both my horse and I fell ill at the same 
 time ; a dose was sent for each ; and, by some infernal mis- 
 take, I swallowed the horse's physic, and the horse, poor thing, 
 swallowed mine ! " 
 
 " And what was the result ?" asked my father. 
 
 " The horse died ! " answered Roland mournfully " a valu- 
 able beast bright bay, with a star ! " 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 " Why, the doctor said it ought to have killed me ; but it 
 took a great deal more than a paltry bottle of physic to kill a 
 man in my regiment." 
 
 " Nevertheless we arrive at the same conclusion," pursued 
 my father, " I with my theory, you with your experience that 
 the physic we take must not be chosen haphazard ; and that a 
 mistake in the bottle may kill a horse. But when we come to 
 the medicine for the mind, how little do we think of the golden 
 rule which common-sense applies to the body ! " 
 
 " Anan," said the Captain, " what medicine is there for the 
 mind ? Shakspeare has said something on that subject, which, 
 if I recollect right, implies that there is no ministering to a 
 mind diseased." 
 
 "I think not, brother ; he only said physic (meaning boluses 
 and black draughts) would not do it. And Shakspeare was 
 the last man to find fault with his own art ; for, verily, he has 
 been a great physician to the mind." 
 
 " Ah ! I take you now, brother books again ! So you 
 think that, when a man breaks his heart, or loses his fortune, 
 or his daughter (Blanche, child, come here) that you have 
 only to clap a plaster of print on the sore place, and all is well. 
 I wish you would find me such a cure." 
 
 " Will you try it ? " 
 
 " If it is not Greek," said my uncle. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MY FATHER'S CROTCHET ON THE HYGIENIC CHEMISTRY OP 
 
 BOOKS. 
 
 " IF," said rny father and here his hand was deep in his 
 waistcoat : " If we accept the authority of Diodorus, as to the 
 inscription on the great Egyptian library and I don't see 
 why Diodorus should not be as near the mark as any one 
 else? " added my father interrogatively, turning round.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 260 
 
 My mother thought herself the person addressed, and nod- 
 ded her gracious assent to the authority of Diodorus. His 
 opinion thus fortified, my father continued : " If, I say, we 
 accept the authority of Diodorus, the inscription on the Egyp- 
 tian library was: 'The Medicine of the Mind.' Now, that 
 phrase has become notoriously trite and hackneyed, and people 
 repeat vaguely that books are the medicine of the mind. 
 Yes ; but to apply the medicine is the thing ! " 
 
 " So you have told us at least twice before, brother," quoted 
 the Captain bluffly. " And what Diodorus has to do with it, 
 I know no more than the man of the moon." 
 
 " I shall never get on at this rate," said my father, in a 
 tone between reproach and entreaty. 
 
 " Be good children, Roland and Blanche both," said my 
 mother, stopping from her work, and holding up her needle 
 threateningly and indeed inflicting a slight puncture upon 
 the Captain's shoulder. 
 
 " Rem acu tetigisti, my dear," said my father, borrowing 
 Cicero's pun on the occasion.* " And now we shall go upon 
 velvet. I say, then, that books, taken indiscriminately, are no 
 cure to the diseases and afflictions of the mind. There is a 
 world of science necessary in the taking them. I have known 
 some people in great sorrow fly to a novel, or the last light 
 book in fashion. One might as well take a rose-draught for 
 the plague ! Light reading does not do when the heart is 
 really heavy. I am told that Goethe, when he lost his son, 
 took to study a science that was new to him. Ah ! Goethe 
 was a physician who knew what he was about. In a great 
 grief like that, you cannot tickle and divert the mind ; you 
 must wrench it away, abstract, absorb bury it in an abyss, 
 hurry it into a labyrinth. Therefore, for the immediate sor- 
 rows of middle life and old age, I recommend a strict chronic 
 course of science and hard reasoning counter-irritation. 
 Bring the brain to act upon the heart! If science is too 
 much against the grain (for we have not all got mathematical 
 heads), something in the reach of the humblest understand- 
 ing, but sufficiently searching to the highest a new language 
 Greek, Arabic, Scandinavian, Chinese, or Welch ! For the 
 loss of fortune, the dose should be applied less directly to the 
 understanding. I would administer something elegant and 
 cordial. For as the heart is crushed and lacerated by a loss 
 in the affections, so it is rather the head that aches and suffers 
 
 * Cicero's joke on a senator who was the son of a tailor " Thou hast touched the thing 
 sharply" (or with a needle acu).
 
 210 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 by the loss of money. Here we find the higher class of poets 
 a very valuable remedy. For observe that poets of the grander 
 and more comprehensive kind of genius have in them two 
 separate men, quite distinct from each other : the imaginative 
 man, and the practical, circumstantial man ; and it is the happy 
 mixture of these that suits diseases of the mind, half imagina- 
 tive and half practical. There is Homer, now lost with the 
 gods, now at home with the homeliest, the very 'poet of cir- 
 cumstance,' as Gray has finely called him ; and yet with 
 imagination enough to seduce and coax the dullest into for- 
 getting, for a while, that little spot on his desk which his 
 banker's book can cover. There is Virgil, far below him, 
 indeed 
 
 ' Virgil the wise. 
 Whose verse walks highest, but not flies,' 
 
 as Cowley expresses it. But Virgil still has genius enough to 
 be two men to lead you into the fields, not only to listen to 
 the pastoral reed, and to hear the bees hum, but to note how 
 you can make the most of the glebe and the vineyard. There 
 is Horace, charming man of the world, who will condole with 
 you feelingly on the loss of your fortune, and by no means 
 undervalue the good things of this life ; but who will yet show 
 you that a man may be happy with a vile modicum or parva 
 rur.a. There is Shakespeare, who, .above all poets, is the 
 mysterious dual of hard sense and empyreal fancy and a 
 great many more, whom I need not name ; but who, if you 
 take to them gently and quietly, will not, like your mere phi- 
 losopher, your unreasonable stoic, tell you that you have lost 
 nothing ; but who will insensibly steal you out of this world, 
 with its losses and crosses, and slip you into another world, 
 before you know where you are ! a world where you are just 
 as welcome, though you carry no more earth of your lost acres 
 with you than covers the sole of your shoe. Then, for 
 hypochondria and satiety, what is better than a brisk alter- 
 ative course of travels especially early, out-of-the-way, mar- 
 vellous, legendary travels ! How they freshen up the spirits ! 
 How they take you out of the humdrum, yawning state you 
 are in. See, with Herodotus, young Greece spring up into 
 life ; or note with him how already the wondrous old Orient 
 world is crumbling into giant decay ; or go with Carpini and 
 Rubruquis to Tartary, meet 'the carts of Zagathai laden with 
 houses, and think that a great city is travelling towards you.' * 
 Gaze on that vast wild empire, of the Tartar, where the de- 
 
 * Rubruquis, sect. xii.
 
 THE CAXTONS. ilt 
 
 scendants of Jenghis ' multiply and disperse over the immense 
 waste desert, which is as boundless as the ocean.' Sail with 
 the early northern discoverers, and penetrate to the heart of 
 winter, among sea-serpents and bears, and tusked morses, with 
 the faces of men. Then, what think you of Columbus, and 
 the stern soul of Cortes, and the kingdom of Mexico, and the 
 strange gold city of the Peruvians, with that audacious brute 
 Pizarro ? And the Polynesians, just for all the world like the 
 ancient Britons ? And the American Indians, and the South- 
 Sea Islanders? How petulant, and young, and adventurous, 
 and frisky your hypochondriac must get upon a regimen like 
 that ! Then, for that vice of the mind which I call sec- 
 tarianism not in the religious sense of the word, but little, 
 narrow prejudices, that make you hate your next-door neigh- 
 bor, because he has his eggs roasted when you have yours 
 boiled ; and gossiping and prying into people's affairs, and 
 backbiting, and thinking heaven and earth are coming together, 
 if some broom touch a cobweb that you have let grow over 
 the window-sill of your brains what like a large and generous, 
 mildly aperient (I beg your pardon, my dear) course of 
 history ! How it clears away all the fumes of the head ! 
 better than the hellebore with which the old leeches of the 
 middle ages purged the cerebellum. There, amidst all that 
 great whirl and sturmbad. (stormbath), as the Germans say, of 
 kingdoms and empires, and races and ages, how your mind 
 enlarges beyond that little, feverish animosity to John Styles ; 
 or that unfortunate prepossession of yours, that all the world 
 is interested in your grievances against Tom Stokes and his 
 wife ! 
 
 " I can only touch, you see, on a few ingredients in this 
 magnificent pharmacy : its resources are boundless, but 
 require the nicest discretion. I remember to have cured a 
 disconsolate widower, who obstinately refused every other 
 medicament, by a strict course of geology. I dipped him deep 
 into gneiss and mica schist. Amidst the first strata, I suffered 
 the watery action to expend itself upon cooling crystallized 
 masses ; and, by the time I had got him into the tertiary 
 period, amongst the transition chalks of Maestricht, and the 
 conchiferous marls of Gosau, he was ready for a new wife. 
 Kitty, my dear ! it is no laughing matter. I made no less 
 notable a cure of a young scholar at Cambridge, who was 
 meant for the church, when he suddenly caught a cold fit of 
 free-thinking, with great shiverings, from wading out of his 
 depth in Spinosa. None of the divines, whom I first tried,
 
 212 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 did him the least good in that state ; so I turned over a new 
 leaf, and doctored him gently upon the chapters of faith in 
 Abraham Tucker's book (you should read it, Sisty) ; then I 
 threw in strong doses of Fichte ; after that I put him on the 
 Scotch metaphysicians, with plunge-baths into certain German 
 transcendentalists ; and having convinced him that faith is not 
 an unphilosophical state of mind, and that he might believe 
 without compromising his understanding for he was mightily 
 conceited on that score I threw in my divines, which he was 
 now fit to digest ; and his theological constitution, since then, 
 has become so robust, that he has eaten up two livings and a 
 deanery! In fact, I have a plan for a library that, instead of 
 heading its compartments, ' Philology, Natural Science, Poetry,' 
 etc., one shall head them according to the diseases for which 
 they are severally good, bodily and mental up from a dire 
 calamity, or the pangs of the gout, down to a fit of the spleen 
 or a slight catarrh ; for which last your light-reading comes in 
 with a whey-posset and barley-water. But," continued my 
 father, more gravely, " when some one sorrow, that is yet 
 reparable, gets hold of your mind like a monomania ; when 
 you think, because Heaven has denied you this or that, on 
 which you had set your heart, that all your life must be a 
 blank oh ! then diet yourself well on biography the biogra- 
 phy of good and great men. See how little a space one sor- 
 row really makes in life. See scarce a page, perhaps, given to 
 some grief similar to your own ; and how triumphantly the life 
 sails on beyond it ! You thought the wing was broken ! Tut 
 tut it was but a bruised feather ! See what life leaves 
 behind it when all is done ! a summary of positive facts far 
 out of the region of sorrow and suffering, linking themselves 
 with the being of the world. Yes, biography is the medicine 
 here ! Roland, you said you would try my prescription here 
 it is," and my father took up a book, and reached it to the 
 Captain. 
 
 My uncle looked over it: "Life of the Reverend Robert 
 Hall." " Brother, he was a Dissenter, and, thank Heaven ! I 
 am a church-and-state man, to the backbone ! " 
 
 " Robert Hall was a brave man, and a true soldier under the 
 Great Commander," said my father artfully. 
 
 The Captain mechanically carried his forefinger to his fore- 
 head in military fashion, and saluted the book respectfully. 
 
 " I have another copy for you, Pisistratus that is mine 
 which I have lent Roland. This, which I bought for you 
 to-day, you will keep."
 
 THE CAXTONS. 213 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said I listlessly, not seeing what great 
 good the " Life of Robert Hall " could do me, or why the 
 same medicine should suit the old, weather-beaten uncle, and 
 the nephew yet in his teens. 
 
 " I have said nothing," resumed my father, slightly bowing 
 his broad temples, "of the Book of Books, for that is the lignum 
 vitce, the cardinal medicine for all. These are but the sub- 
 sidiaries : for, as you may remember, my dear Kitty, that I 
 have said before we can never keep the system quite right 
 unless we place just in the centre of the great ganglionic sys- 
 tem, whence the nerves carry its influence gently and smoothly 
 through the whole frame THE SAFFRON BAG ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AFTER breakfast the next morning, I took my hat to got out, 
 when my father, looking at me, and seeing by my countenance 
 that I had not slept, said gently : 
 
 ' My dear Pisistratus, you have not tried my medicine yet." 
 
 ' What medicine, sir? " 
 
 Robert Hall." 
 
 4 No, indeed, not yet," said I, smiling. 
 
 ' Do so, my son, before you go out ; depend on it, you will 
 enjoy your walk more." 
 
 I confess that it was with some reluctance I obeyed. I went 
 back to my ovyn room, and sate resolutely down to my task. 
 Are there any of you, my readers, who have not read the " Life 
 of Robert Hall " ? If so, in the words of the great Captain 
 Cuttle, " When found, make a note of it." Never mind what 
 your theological opinion is Episcopalian, Presbyterian, 
 Baptist, Paedobaptist, Independent, Quaker, Unitarian, Phi- 
 losopher, Free-thinker send for Robert Hall ! Yea, if there 
 exist yet on earth descendants of the arch-heresies, which made 
 such a noise in their day men who believe with Saturninus that 
 the world was made by seven angels ; or with Basilides, that 
 there are as many heavens as there are days in the year ; or 
 with the Nicolaitanes, that men ought to have their wives in 
 common (plenty of that sect still, especially in the Red Repub- 
 lic) ; or with their successors, the Gnostics, who believed in 
 Jaldaboath ; or with the Carpacratians, that the world was 
 made by the devil ; or with the Cerinthians, and Ebionites, 
 and Nazarites (which last discovered that the name of Noah's 
 wife was Ouria, and that she set the ark on fire) ; or with the 
 Valentinians, who taught that there were thirty JEones, ages,
 
 214 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 or worlds, born out of Profundity (Bathos), male, and Silence, 
 female ; or with the Marcites, Colarbasii, and Heracleonites 
 (who still kept up that bother about ^Eones, Mr. Profundity 
 and Mrs. Silence) ; or with the Ophites, who are said to have 
 worshipped the serpent ; or the Cainites, who ingeniously 
 found out a reason for honoring Judas, because he foresaw 
 what good would come to men by betraying our Saviour ; or 
 with the Sethites, who made Seth a part of the divine sub- 
 stance ; or with the Archonticks, Ascothyptse, Cerdonians, 
 Marcionites, the disciples of Apelles, and Severus (the last was 
 a teetotaller, and said wine was begot by Satan), or of Tatian, 
 who thought all the descendants of Adam were irretrievably 
 damned except themselves (some of those Tatiani are certainly 
 extant), or the Cataphrygians, who were also called Tasco- 
 dragitae, because they thrust their forefingers up their nostrils 
 to show their devotion ; or the Pepuzians, Quintilians, and 
 Artotyrites ; or but no matter. If I go through all the follies 
 of men in search of the truth, I shall never get to the end of 
 my chapter, or back to Robert Hall : whatever, then, thou art, 
 orthodox or heterodox, send for the " Life of Robert Hall." 
 It is the life of a man that it does good to manhood itself to 
 contemplate. 
 
 I had finished the biography, which is not long, and was 
 musing over it, when I heard the Captain's cork-leg upon the 
 stairs. I opened the door for him, and he entered, book in 
 hand, as I, also, book in hand, stood ready to receive him. 
 
 "Well, sir," said Roland, seating himself, "has the prescrip- 
 tion done you any good ? " 
 
 " Yes, uncle great." 
 
 "And me too. By Jupiter, Sisty, that same Hall was a fine 
 fellow ! I wonder if the medicine has gone through the same 
 channels in both ? Tell me, first, how it has affected you." 
 
 " Imprimis^ then, my dear uncle, I fancy that a book like 
 this must do good to all who live in the world in the ordinary 
 manner, by admitting us into a circle of life of which I suspect 
 we think but little. Here is a man connecting himself directly 
 with a heavenly purpose, and cultivating considerable faculties 
 to that one end ; seeking to accomplish his soul as far as he 
 can, that he may do most good on earth, and take a higher 
 existence up to heaven ; a man intent upon a sublime and 
 spiritual duty : in short, living as it were in it, and so filled 
 with the consciousness of immortality, and so strong in the 
 link between God and man, that, without any affected stoicism, 
 without being insensible to pain rather, oerhaps, from a nerv-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 215 
 
 ous temperament, acutely feeling it he yet has a happiness 
 wholly independent of it. It is impossible not to be thrilled 
 with an admiration that elevates while it awes you, in reading 1 
 that solemn ' Dedication of himself to God.' This offering of 
 'soul and body, time, health, reputation, talents,' to the divine 
 and invisible Principle of Good, calls us suddenly to contem- 
 plate the selfishness of our own views and hopes, and awakens 
 us from the egotism that exacts all and resigns nothing. 
 
 " But this book has mostly struck upon the chord in my 
 own heart, in that characteristic which my father indicated as 
 belonging to all biography. Here is a life of remarkable ful- 
 ness, great study, great thought, and great action ; and yet," 
 said I, coloring, "how small a place those feelings, which have 
 tyrannized over me, and made all else seem blank and void, 
 hold in that life. It is not as if the man were a cold and hard 
 ascetic ; it is easy to see in him not only remarkable tender- 
 ness and warm affections, but strong self-will, and the passion 
 of all vigorous natures. Yes ! I understand better now what 
 existence in a true man should be." 
 
 " All that is very well said," quoth the Captain, "but it did 
 not strike me. What I have seen in this book is courage. 
 Here is a poor creature rolling on the carpet with agony ; 
 from childhood to death tortured by a mysterous, incurable 
 malady a malady that is described as ' an internal apparatus 
 of torture,' and who does, by his heroism, more than bear it 
 he puts it out of power to affect him ; and though (here is the 
 passage) ' his appointment by day and by night was incessant 
 pain, yet high enjoyment was, notwithstanding, the law of his 
 existence.' Robert Hall reads me a lesson me, an old soldier, 
 who thought myself above taking lessons in courage, at least. 
 And, as I came to that passage when, in the sharp paroxysms 
 before death, he says : ' I have not complained, have I, sir ? 
 and I won't complain ! ' when I came to that passage I started 
 up, and cried, ' Roland de Caxton, thou hast been a coward ! 
 and, an thou hadst had thy deserts, thou hadst been cashiered, 
 broken, and drummed out of the regiment long ago ! ' ' 
 
 " After all, then, my father was not so wrong he placed his 
 guns right, and fired a good shot." 
 
 " He must have been from 6 to 9 above the crest of the 
 parapet," said my uncle thoughtfully, " which, I take it, is 
 the best elevation, both for shot and shells, in enfilading a 
 work." 
 
 " What say you, then, Captain ? Up with our knapsacks, 
 and on with the march ! "
 
 210 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Right about face ! " cried my uncle, as erect as a 
 column. 
 
 " No looking back, if we can help it." 
 
 " Full in the front of the enemy. ' Up, guards, and at 
 'em!'" 
 
 " ' England expects every man to do his duty !' ' 
 
 " Cypress or laurel ! " cried my uncle, waving the book over 
 his head. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I WENT out and to see Francis Vivian ; for, on leaving 
 Mr. Trevanion, I was not without anxiety for my new friend's 
 future provision. But Vivian was from home, and I strolled 
 from his lodgings into the suburbs on the other side of the 
 river, and began to meditate seriously on the best course now 
 to pursue. In quitting my present occupations, I resigned 
 prospects far more brilliant, and fortunes far more rapid, than 
 I could ever hope to realize in any other entrance into life. 
 But I felt the necessity, if I desired to keep steadfast to that 
 more healthful frame of mind I had obtained, of some manly 
 and continuous labor, some earnest employment. My thoughts 
 flew back to the university ; and the quiet of its cloisters, 
 which, until I had been blinded by the glare of the London 
 world, and grief had somewhat dulled the edge of my quick 
 desires and hopes, had seemed tome cheerless and unaltering, 
 took an inviting aspect. It presented what I needed most, a 
 new scene, a new arena, a partial return into boyhood ; repose 
 for passions prematurely raised ; activity for the reasoning 
 powers in fresh directions. I had not lost my time in Lon- 
 don : I had kept up, if not studies purely classical, at least 
 the habits of application ; I had sharpened my general 
 comprehension, and augmented my resources. Accordingly, 
 when I returned home, I resolved to speak to my father. But 
 I found he had forestalled me ; and, on entering, my mother 
 drew me upstairs into her room, with a smile kindled by my 
 smile, and told me that she and her Austin had been thinking 
 that it was best that I should leave London as soon as possi- 
 ble ; that my father found he could now dispense with 
 the library 6f the Museum for some months ; that the time for 
 which they had taken their lodgings would be up in a few 
 days ; that the summer was far advanced, town odious, the 
 country beautiful in a word, we were to go home. There I 
 could prepare myself for Cambridge, till the long vacation was 
 over ; and, my mother added hesitatingly, and with a ptet-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 2l7 
 
 atory caution to spare my health, that my father, whose 
 income could ill afford the requisite allowance to me, counted 
 on my soon lightening his burden, by getting a scholarship. 
 I felt how much provident kindness there was in all this, even 
 in that hint of a scholarship, which was meant to rouse my 
 faculties, and spur me, by affectionate incentives, to a new 
 ambition. I was not less delighted than grateful. 
 
 " But poor Roland," said I, "and little Blanche will they 
 come with us ? " 
 
 " I fear not," said my mother, " for Roland is anxious to 
 get back to his tower ; and in a day or two, he will be well 
 enough to move." 
 
 " Do you not think, my dear mother, that, somehow or other, 
 this lost son of his had something to do with Roland's illness 
 that the illness was as much mental as physicial ?" 
 
 " I have no doubt of it, Sisty. What a sad, bad heart that 
 young man must have ! " 
 
 " My uncle seems to have abandoned all hope of finding him 
 in London ; otherwise, ill as he has been, I am sure we could 
 not have kept him at home. So he goes back to the old tower. 
 Poor man, he must be dull enough there ! We must contrive 
 to pay him a visit. Does Blanche ever speak of her brother ? " 
 
 " No; for it seems they were not brought up much together 
 at all events, she does not remember him. How lovely she is ! 
 Her mother must surely have been very handsome." 
 
 " She is a pretty child, certainly, though in a strange style of 
 beauty such immense eyes ! and affectionate, and loves 
 Roland as she ought." 
 
 And here the conversation dropped. 
 
 Our plans being thus decided, it was necessary that I should 
 lose no time in seeing Vivian, and making some arrangement 
 for the future. His manner had lost so much of its abruptness, 
 that I thought I could venture to recommend him personally 
 to Trevanion ; and I knew, after what had passed, that Tre- 
 vanion would make a point to oblige me. I resolved to con- 
 sult my father about it. As yet, I had either never found, or 
 never made the opportunity to talk to my father on the sub- 
 ject, he had been so occupied ; and, if he had proposed to see 
 my new friend, what answer could I have made, in the teeth 
 of Vivian's cynic objections ? However, as we were now going 
 away, that last consideration ceased to be of importance ; and, 
 for the first, the student had not yet entirely settled back to 
 his books. I therefore watched the time when my father 
 walked down to the Museum, and, slipping my arm in his, I
 
 2l8 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 told him, briefly and rapidly, as we went along, how I had 
 formed this strange acquaintance, and how I was now situated. 
 The story did not interest my father quite so much as I 
 expected, and he did not understand all the complexities of 
 Vivian's character how could he ? for he answered briefly : 
 " I should think that, for a young man, apparently without a 
 sixpence, and whose education seems so imperfect, any resource 
 in Trevanion must be most temporary and uncertain. Speak 
 to your Uncle Jack ; he can find him some place, I have no 
 doubt perhaps a readership in a printer's office, or a reporter's 
 place on some journal, if he is fit for it. But if you want to 
 steady him, let it be something regular." 
 
 Therewith my father dismissed the matter, and vanished 
 through the gates of the Museum. Readership to a printer 
 reportership on a journal for a young gentleman with the high 
 notions and arrogant vanity of Francis Vivian, his ambition 
 already soaring far beyond kid gloves and a cabriolet! The idea 
 was hopeless ; and, perplexed and doubtful, I took my way to 
 Vivian's lodgings. I found him at home, and unemployed, 
 standing by his window, with folded arms, and in a state of 
 such revery that he was not aware of my entrance till I had 
 touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 " Ha ! " said he then, with one of his short, quick, impatient 
 sighs, " I thought you had given me up, and forgotten me 
 but you look pale and harassed. I could almost think you had 
 grown thinner within the last few days." 
 
 " Oh ! never mind me, Vivian : I have come to speak of 
 yourself. I have left Trevanion ; it is settled that I should go 
 to the university and we all quit town in a few days." 
 
 " In a few days ! All ! who are all? " 
 
 " My family father, mother, uncle, cousin, and myself. 
 But, my dear fellow, now let us think seriously what is best to 
 be done for you. I can present you to Trevanion." 
 
 " Ha ! " 
 
 " But Trevanion is a hard, though an excellent man ; and, 
 moreover, as he is always changing the subjects that engross 
 him, in a month or so he may have nothing to give you. You 
 said you would work will you consent not to complain if the 
 work cannot be done in kid gloves ? Young men who have 
 risen high in the world have begun, it is well known, as re- 
 porters to the press. It is a situation of respectability, and in 
 request, and not easy to obtain, I fancy ; but still " 
 
 Vivian interrupted me hastily : 
 
 " Thank you a thousand times ! but what you say confirms
 
 THE CAXTONS. 219 
 
 a resolution I had taken before you came. I shall make it up 
 with my family, and return home." 
 
 " Oh ! I am so really glad. How wise in you ! " 
 
 Vivian turned away his head abruptly : 
 
 " Your pictures of family life and domestic peace, you see," 
 he said, " seduced me more than you thought. When do you 
 leave town ? " 
 
 " Why, I believe, early next week. " 
 
 " So soon," said Vivian thoughtfully. " Well, perhaps I 
 may ask you to introduce me to Mr. Trevanion ; for who 
 knows ? my family and I may fall out again. But I will con- 
 sider. I think I have heard you say that this Trevanion is 
 a very old friend of your father's or uncle's ? " 
 
 " He, or rather Lady Ellinor, is an old friend of both." 
 
 "And therefore would listen to your recommendations of me. 
 But perhaps I may not need them. So you have left left of 
 your own accord a situation that seemed more enjoyable, I 
 should think, than rooms in a college left why did you 
 leave ? " 
 
 And Vivian fixed his bright eyes full and piercingly on mine. 
 
 " It was only for a time, for a trial, that I was there," said 
 I evasively; "out at nurse, as it were, till the Alma Mater 
 opened her arms alma indeed she ought to be to my father's 
 son." 
 
 Vivian looked unsatisfied with my explanation, but did not 
 question me farther. He himself was the first to turn the 
 conversation, and he did this with more affectionate cordiality 
 than was common to him. He inquired into our general plans, 
 into the probabilities of our return to town, and drew from 
 me a description of our rural Tusculum. He was quiet and 
 subdued ; and once or twice I thought there was a moisture 
 in those luminous eyes. We parted with more of the unreserve 
 and fondness of youthful friendship, at least on my part, and 
 seemingly on his, than had yet endeared our singular intimacy ; 
 for the cement of cordial attachment had been wanting to an 
 intercourse in which one party refused all confidence, and the 
 other mingled distrust and fear with keen interest and com- 
 passionate admiration. 
 
 That evening, before lights were brought in, my father, 
 turning to me, abruptly asked if I had seen my friend, and 
 what he was about to do. 
 
 " He thinks of returning to his family," said I. 
 
 Roland, who had seemed dozing, winced uneasily. 
 
 " Who returns to his family ? " asked the Captain.
 
 22O THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Why, you must know," said my father, " that Sisty has 
 fished up a friend of whom he can give no account that would 
 satisfy a policeman, and whose fortunes he thinks himself 
 under the necessity of protecting. You are very lucky that 
 he has not picked your pockets, Sisty ; but I dare say he has ? 
 What's his name? " 
 
 " Vivian," said I " Francis Vivian." 
 
 "A good name, and a Cornish," said my father. " Some 
 derive it from the Romans Vivianus ; others from a Celtic 
 word, which means " 
 
 " Vivian ! " interrupted Roland " Vivian ! I wonder if it 
 be the son of Colonel Vivian ? " 
 
 " He is certainly a gentleman's son," said I ; "but he never 
 told me what his family and connections were." 
 
 " Vivian," repeated my uncle " poor Colonel Vivian ! So 
 the young man is going to his father. I have no doubt it is 
 the same." Ah ! " 
 
 " What do you know of Colonel Vivian, or his son ? " said 
 I. " Pray, tell me, I am so interested in this young man." 
 
 " I know nothing of -either, except by gossip," said my 
 uncle moodily. " I did hear that Colonel Vivian, an excellent 
 officer and honorable man, had been in in (Roland's voice 
 faltered) in great grief about his son, whom, a mere boy, he 
 had prevented from some improper marriage, and who had 
 run away and left him it was supposed for America. The 
 story affected me at the time," added my uncle, trying to speak 
 calmly. 
 
 We were all silent, for we felt why Roland was so disturbed, 
 and why Colonel Vivian's grief should have touched him 
 home. Similarity in affliction makes us brothers even to the 
 unknown. 
 
 "You say he is going home to his family I am heartily 
 glad of it ! " said the envying old soldier gallantly. 
 
 The lights came in then, and, two minutes after, Uncle 
 Roland and I were nestled close to each other, side by side ; 
 and I was reading over his shoulder, and his finger was silently 
 resting on that passage that had so struck him : " I have not 
 complained have I, sir ? and I wont complain ! "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 221 
 
 PART TENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MY uncle's conjecture as to the parentage of Francis Vivian 
 seemed to me a positive discovery. Nothing more likely than 
 that this wilful boy had formed some headstrong attachment 
 which no father would sanction, and so, thwarted and irritated, 
 thrown himself on the world. Such an explanation was the 
 more agreeable to me, as it cleared up much that had ap- 
 peared discreditable in the mystery that surrounded Vivian. 
 I could never bear to think that he had done anything mean 
 and criminal, however I might believe he had been rash and 
 faulty. It was natural that the unfriended wanderer should 
 have been thrown into a society, the equivocal character of 
 which had failed to revolt the audacity of an inquisitive mind 
 and adventurous temper; but it was natural, also, that the 
 habits of gentle birth, and that silent education which English 
 gentlemen commonly receive from their very cradle, should 
 have preserved his honor, at least, intact through all. Cer- 
 tainly the pride, the notions, the very faults of the wellborn 
 had remained in full force why not the better qualities, 
 however smothered for the time ? I felt thankful for the 
 thought that Vivian was returning to an element in which he 
 might repurify his mind, refit himself for that sphere to which 
 he belonged ; thankful that we might yet meet, and our pres- 
 ent half intimacy mature, perhaps, into healthful friendship. 
 
 It was with such thoughts that I took up my hat the next 
 morning to seek Vivian, and judge if we had gained the right 
 clue, when we were startled by what was a rare sound at our 
 door the postman's knock. My father was at the Museum ; 
 my mother in high conference, or close preparation for our 
 approaching departure, with Mrs. Primmins ; Roland, I, and 
 Blanche had the room to ourselves. 
 
 " The letter is not for me," said Pisistratus. 
 
 " Nor for me, I am sure," said the Captain, when the servant 
 entered and confuted him for the letter was for him. He 
 took it up wonderingly and suspiciously, as Glumdalclitch 
 took up Gulliver, or as (if naturalists) we take up an unknown 
 creature, that we are not quite sure will not bite and sting us. 
 Ah ! it has stung or bit you, Captain Roland ! for you start
 
 222 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 and change color yon suppress a cry as you break the seal 
 you breathe hard as you read and the letter seems short, but 
 it takes time in the reading, for you go over it again and 
 again. Then you fold it up, crumple it, thrust it into your 
 breast-pocket, and look round like a man waking from a 
 dream. Is it a dream of pain or of pleasure ? Verily, I cannot 
 guess, for nothing is on that eagle face either of pain or 
 pleasure, but rather of fear, agitation, bewilderment. Yet the 
 eyes are bright, too, and there is a smile on that iron lip. 
 
 My uncle looked round, I say, and called hastily for his 
 cane and his hat, and then began buttoning his coat across 
 his broad breast, though the day was hot enough to have 
 unbuttoned every breast in the metropolis. 
 
 " You are not going out, uncle ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes." 
 
 " But are you strong enough yet ? Let me go with you ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; no. Blanche, come here." He took the child 
 in his arms, surveyed her wistfully, and kissed her. " You 
 have never given me pain, Blanche : say, ' God bless and 
 prosper you, father' ! " 
 
 " God bless and prosper my dear, dear papa ! " said Blanche, 
 putting her little hands together, as if in prayer. 
 
 " There that should bring me luck, Blanche," said the 
 Captain gayly, and setting her down. Then seizing his cane 
 from the servant, and putting on his hat with a determined 
 air, he walked stoutly forth ; and I saw him, from the window, 
 march along the streets as cheerfully as if he had been besieg- 
 ing Badajoz. 
 
 " God prosper thee, too ! " said I involuntarily. 
 
 And Blanche took hold of my hand, and said in her prettiest 
 way (and her pretty ways were many), " I wish you would 
 come with us, Cousin Sisty, and help me to love papa. Poor 
 papa ! he wants us both he wants all the love we can give 
 him ! " 
 
 " That he does, my dear Blanche ; and I think it a great 
 mistake that we don't all live together. Your papa ought not 
 to go to that tower of his, at the world's end, but come to our 
 snug, pretty house, with a garden full of flowers, for you to be 
 Queen of the May from May to November, to say nothing 
 of a duck that is more sagacious than any creature in the 
 Fables I gave you the other day." 
 
 Blanche laughed and clapped her hands : " Oh, that 
 would be so nice! But" and she stopped gravely, and 
 added " but then, you see, there would not be the Tower to
 
 THE CAXTONS. 223 
 
 love papa ; and I am sure that the Tower must love him very 
 much, for he loves it dearly." 
 
 It was my turn to laugh now. " I see how it is, you little 
 witch ! " said I ; " you would coax us to come and live with 
 you and the owls ! With all my heart, so far as I am con- 
 cerned." 
 
 " Sisty," said Blanche, with an appalling solemnity on her 
 face, "do you know what I've been thinking?" 
 
 " Not I, miss what ? Something very deep, I can see 
 very horrible, indeed, I fear you look so serious." 
 
 " Why, I've been thinking, continued Blanche, not relaxing 
 a muscle, and without the least bit of a blush, "I've been 
 thinking that I'll be your little wife ; and then, of course, we 
 shall all live together." 
 
 Blanche did not blush, but I did. " Ask me that ten years 
 hence, if you dare, you impudent little thing ; and now, run 
 away to Mrs. Primmins, and tell her to keep you out of mis- 
 chief, for I must say good-morning." 
 
 But Blanche did not run away, and her dignity seemed 
 exceedingly hurt at my mode of taking her alarming proposi- 
 tion, for she retired into a corner pouting, and sat down with 
 great majesty. So there I left her, and went my way to 
 Vivian. He was out ; but, seeing books on his table, and 
 having nothing to do, I resolved to wait for his return. I had 
 enough of my father in me to turn at once to the books for 
 company ; and, by the side of some graver works which I had 
 recommended, I found certain novels in French, that Vivian 
 had got from a circulating library. I had a curiosity to read 
 these, for, except the old classic novels of France, this mighty 
 branch of its popular literature was then new to me. I soon 
 got interested, but what an interest ! the interest that a night- 
 mare might excite, if one caught it out of one's sleep, and set 
 to work to examine it. By the side of what dazzling shrewd- 
 ness, what deep knowledge of those holes and corners in the 
 human system, of which Goethe must have spoken when he 
 said somewhere (if I recollect right, and don't misquote him, 
 which I'll not answer for), " There is something in every 
 man's heart which, if we could know, would make us hate 
 him " by the side of all this, and of much more that showed 
 prodigious boldness and energy of intellect, what strange 
 exaggerations, what mock nobility of sentiment, what incon- 
 ceivable perversion of reasoning, what damnable demoraliza- 
 tion ! The true artist, whether in Romance or the Drama, 
 will often necessarily interest us in a vicious or criminal
 
 224 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 character, but he does not the less leave clear to our reproba- 
 tion the vice or the crime. But here I found myself called 
 upon not only to feel interest in the villain (which would be 
 perfectly allowable I am very much interested in Macbeth 
 and Lovelace), but to admire and sympathize with the villany 
 itself. Nor was it the confusion of all wrong and right in 
 individual character that shocked me the most, but rather the 
 view of society altogether, painted in colors so hideous that, if 
 true, instead of a revolution, it would draw down a deluge ; it 
 was the hatred, carefully instilled, of the poor against the rich ; 
 it was the war breathed between class and class ; it was that 
 envy of all superiorities, which loves to show itself by allowing 
 virtue only to a blouse, and asserting that a man must be a 
 rogue if he belong to that rank of society in which, from the 
 very gifts of education, from the necessary associations of cir- 
 cumstance, roguery is the last thing probable or natural. It 
 was all this, and things a thousand times worse, that set my 
 head in a whirl, as hour after hour slipped on, and I still 
 gazed, spellbound, on these Chimaeras and Typhons these 
 symbols of the Destroying Principle. " Poor Vivian ! " said 
 I, as I rose at last, " if thou readest these books with pleasure, 
 or from habit, no wonder that thou seemest to me so obtuse 
 about right and wrong, and to have a great cavity where thy 
 brain should have the bump of 'conscientiousness' in fuh 1 
 salience ! " 
 
 Nevertheless, to do those demoniacs justice, I had got 
 through time imperceptibly by their pestilent help ; and I was 
 startled to see, by my watch, how late it was. I had just 
 resolved to leave a line fixing an appointment for the morrow, 
 and so depart, when I heard Vivian's knock a knock that 
 had great character in it haughty, impatient, irregular ; not 
 a neat, symmetrical, harmonious, unpretending knock, but a 
 knock that seemed to set the whole house and street at defi- 
 ance ; it was a knock bullying a knock ostentatious a knock 
 irritating and offensive " impiger" and " iracundus" 
 
 But the step that came up the stairs did not suit the knock ! 
 It was a step light, yet firm ; slow, yet elastic. 
 
 The maid-servant who had opened the door had, no doubt, 
 informed Vivian of my visit, for he did not seem surprised to 
 see me ; but he cast that hurried, suspicious look round the 
 room which a man is apt to cast when he has left his papers 
 about, and finds some idler, on whose trustworthiness he by 
 no means depends, seated in the midst of the unguarded secrets. 
 The look was not flattering ; but my conscience was so unre-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 225 
 
 proachful that I laid all the blame upon the general suspicious- 
 ness of Vivian's character. 
 
 " Three hours, at least, have I been here ! " said I mali- 
 ciously. 
 
 " Three hours ! " again the look. 
 
 " And this is the worst secret I have discovered," and I 
 pointed to those literary Manicheans. 
 
 " Oh ! " said he carelessly, " French novels ! I don't 
 wonder you stayed so long. I can't read your English novels 
 flat and insipid : there are truth and life here." 
 
 " Truth and life ! " cried I, every hair on my head erect 
 with astonishment ; " Then hurrah for falsehood and 
 death ! " 
 
 " They don't please you ; no accounting for tastes." 
 
 " I beg your pardon I account for yours, if you really take 
 for truth and life monsters so nefast and flagitious. For 
 heaven's sake, my dear fellow, don't suppose that any man 
 could get on in England get anywhere but to the Old Bailey 
 or Norfolk Island, if he squared his conduct to such topsy- 
 turvy notions of the world as I find here." 
 
 " How many years are you my senior ? " asked Vivian sneer- 
 ingly, " that you should play the mentor, and correct my igno- 
 rance of the world ?" 
 
 " Vivian, it is not age and experience that speak here, it is 
 something far wiser than they the instinct of a man's heart, 
 and a gentleman's honor." 
 
 " Well, well," said Vivian, rather discomposed, " let the poor 
 books alone ; you know my creed that books influence us lit- 
 tle one way or the other." 
 
 " By the great Egyptian library,and the soul of Diodorus ! 
 I wish you could hear my father upon that point. Come," 
 added I, with sublime compassion ; " Come, it is not too late 
 do let me introduce you to my father. I will consent to read 
 French novels all my life, if a single chat with Austin Caxton 
 does not send you home with a happier face and a lighter 
 heart. Come, let me take you back to dine with us to-day." 
 
 " I cannot," said Vivian, with some confusion ; " I cannot, 
 for this day I leave London. Some other time perhaps for," 
 he added, but not heartily, " we may meet again." 
 
 " I hope so," said I, wringing his hand, "and that is likely ; 
 since, in spite of yourself, I have guessed your secret your 
 birth and parentage." 
 
 " How ! " cried Vivian, turning pale, and gnawing his lip ; 
 " What do you mean ? speak."
 
 226 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Well then, are you not the lost, runaway son of Colonel 
 Vivian ? Come, say the truth ; let us be confidants." 
 
 Vivian threw off a succession of his abrupt sighs ; and then, 
 seating himself, leant his face on the table, confused, no doubt, 
 to find himself discovered. 
 
 " You are near the mark," said he at last, " but do not ask 
 me farther yet. Some day," heeded impetuously, and spring- 
 ing suddenly to his feet ; " Some day you shall know all : yes ; 
 some day, if I live, when that name shall be high in the world ; 
 yes, when the world is at my feet ! " He stretched his right 
 hand as if to grasp the space, and his whole face was lighted 
 with a fierce enthusiasm. The glow died away, and with a 
 slight return of his scornful smile, he said : " Dreams yet ; 
 dreams ! And now, look at this paper." And he drew out a 
 memoranda, scrawled over with figures. 
 
 " This, I think, is my pecuniary debt to you ; in a few days, 
 I shall discharge it. Give me your address." 
 
 " Oh !" said I, pained, " can you speak to me of money, 
 Vivian ? " 
 
 " It is one of those instincts of honor you cite so often," 
 answered he, coloring. " Pardon me." 
 
 " That is my address," said I, stooping to write, in order to 
 conceal my wounded feelings. " You will avail yourself of it, 
 I hope, often, and tell me that you are well and happy." 
 
 " When I am happy you shall know." 
 
 " You do not require any introduction to Trevanion ?" 
 
 Vivian hesitated : " No, I think not. If ever I do, I will 
 write for it." 
 
 I took up my hat, and was about to go, for I was still chilled 
 and mortified, when, as if by an irresistible impulse, Vivian 
 came to me hastily, flung his arms round my neck, and kissed 
 me as a boy kisses his brother. 
 
 " Bear with me ! " he cried in a faltering voice : " I did 
 not think to love any one as you have made me love you, 
 though sadly against the grain. If you are not my good 
 angel, it is that nature and habit are too strong for you. Cer- 
 tainly, some day we shall meet again. I shall have time, in 
 the mean while, to see if the world can be indeed ' mine oyster, 
 which I with sword can open.' I would be aut Casar aut 
 nullus ! Very little other Latin know I to quote from ! If 
 Caesar, men will forgive me all the means to the end ; if nullus y 
 London has a river, and in every street one may buy a cord ! " 
 
 " Vivian ! Vivian ! " 
 
 " Now go, my dear friend, while my heart is softened go,
 
 THE CAXTONS. 227 
 
 before I shock you with some return of the native Adam. 
 Go go ! " 
 
 And taking me gently by the arm, Francis Vivian drew me 
 from the room, and, re-entering, locked his door. 
 
 Ah ! if I could have left him Robert Hall, instead of those 
 execrable Typhons ! But would that medicine have suited 
 his case, or must grim Experience write sterner prescriptions 
 with iron hand ? 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHEN I got back, just in time for dinner, Roland had not 
 returned, nor did he return till late in the evening. All our 
 eyes were directed towards him, as we rose with one accord to 
 give him welcome ; but his face was like a mask it was 
 locked, and rigid, and unreadable. 
 
 Shutting the door carefully after him, he came to the hearth, 
 stood on it, upright and calm, for a few moments, and then 
 asked : 
 
 " Has Blanche gone to bed ? " 
 
 " Yes," said my mother, " but not to sleep, I am sure ; she 
 made me promise to tell her when you came back." 
 
 Roland's brow relaxed. 
 
 " To-morrow, sister," said he slowly, " will you see that she 
 has the proper mourning made for her ? My son is dead." 
 
 " Dead ! " we cried with one voice, and surrounding him 
 with one impulse. 
 
 " Dead ? Impossible you could not say it so calmly. 
 Dead how do you know ? You may be deceived. Who told 
 you ? Why do you think so ? " 
 
 " I have seen his remains," said my uncle, with the same 
 gloomy calm. " We will all mourn for him. Pisistratus, you 
 are heir to my name now, as to your father's. Good-night ; 
 excuse me, all all you dear and kind ones ; I am worn out." 
 
 Roland lighted his candle and went away, leaving us thun- 
 der-struck ; but he came back again looked round took up 
 his book, open in the favorite passage nodded again, and 
 again vanished. We looked at each other as if we had seen a 
 ghost. Then my father rose and went out of the room, and 
 remained in Roland's till the night was well nigh-gone ! We 
 sat up my mother and I till he returned. His benign face 
 looked profoundly sad. 
 
 " How is it, sir ? Can you tell us more ? " 
 
 My father shook his head.
 
 228 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Roland prays that you may preserve the same forebearance 
 you have shown hitherto, and never mention his son's name to 
 him. Peace be to the living, as to the dead. Kitty, this 
 changes our plans ; we must all go to Cumberland we cannot 
 leave Roland thus ! " 
 
 " Poor, poor Roland ! " said my mother through her tears. 
 " And to think that father and son were not reconciled. But 
 Roland forgives him now oh yes ; now ! " 
 
 " It is not Roland we can censure," said my father, almost 
 fiercely ; " it is but enough. We must hurry out of town as 
 soon as we can : Roland will recover in the native air of his 
 old ruins." 
 
 We went up to bed mournfully. " And so," thought I, " ends 
 one grand object of my life ! I had hoped to have brought 
 those two together. But, alas ! what peacemaker like the 
 grave ! " 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MY uncle did not leave his room for three days, but he was 
 much closeted with a lawyer ; and my father dropped some 
 words which seemed to imply that the deceased had incurred 
 debts, and that the poor Captain was making some charge on 
 his small property. As Roland had said that he had seen the 
 remains of his son, I took it, at first, for granted that we should 
 attend a funeral, but no word of this was said. On the fourth 
 day, Roland, in deep mourning, entered a hackney coach with 
 the lawyer, and was absent about two hours. I did not doubt 
 that he had thus quietly fulfilled the last mournful offices. On 
 his return, he shut himself up again for the rest of the day, 
 and would not see even my father. But the next morning he 
 made his appearance as usual, and I even thought that he 
 seemed more cheerful than I had yet known him whether he 
 played a part, or whether the worst was now over, and the 
 grave was less cruel than uncertainty. On the following day, 
 we all set out for Cumberland. 
 
 In the interval, Uncle Jack had been almost constantly at 
 the house, and, to do him justice, he had seemed unaffectedly 
 shocked at the calamity that had befallen Roland. There was, 
 indeed, no want of heart in Uncle Jack, whenever you went 
 straight at it ; but it was had to find if you took a circuitous 
 route towards it through the pockets. The worthy speculator 
 had indeed much business to transact with my father before he 
 left town. The Anti-Publisher Society had been set up, and
 
 THE CAXTONS. 229 
 
 it was through the obstetric aid of that fraternity that the Great 
 Book was to be ushered into the world. The new journal, the 
 Literary Times, was also far advanced not yet out, but my 
 father was fairly in for it. There were preparations for its 
 debut on a vast scale, and two or three gentlemen in black 
 one of whom looked like a lawyer, and another like a printer, 
 and a third uncommonly like a Jew called twice, with papers 
 of a very formidable aspect. All these preliminaries settled, 
 the last thing I heard Uncle Jack say, with a slap on my 
 father's back, was : " Fame and fortune both made now ! 
 you may go to sleep in safety, for you leave me wide awake. 
 Jack Tibbets never sleeps! " 
 
 I had thought it strange that, since my abrupt exodus from 
 Trevanion's house, no notice had been taken of any of us by 
 himself or Lady Ellinor. But on the very eve of our depart- 
 ure, came a kind note from Trevanion to me, dated from his 
 favorite country seat (accompanied by a present of some rare 
 books to my father), in which he said briefly that there had 
 been illness in his family, which had obliged him to leave town 
 for a change of air, but that Lady Ellinor expected to call on 
 my mother the next week. He had found amongst his books 
 some curious works of the Middle Ages, amongst others a 
 complete set of Cardan, which he knew my father would like 
 to have, and so sent them. There was no allusion to what had 
 passed between us. 
 
 In reply to this note, after due thanks on my father's part, 
 who seized upon the Cardan (Lyons edition, 1663, ten volumes 
 folio) as a silkworm does upon a mulberry-leaf, I expressed 
 our joint regrets that there was no hope of our seeing Lady 
 Ellinor, as we were just leaving town. I should have added 
 something on the loss my uncle had sustained, but my father 
 thought that, since Roland shrank from any mention of his 
 son, even by his nearest kindred, it would be his obvious wish 
 not to parade his affliction beyond that circle. 
 
 And there had been illness in Trevanion's family ! On 
 whom had it fallen? I could not rest satisfied with that 
 general expression, and I took my answer myself to Tre- 
 vanion's house, instead of sending it by the post. In reply to 
 my inquiries, the porter said that all the family were expected 
 at the end of the week ; that he had heard both Lady Ellinor 
 and Miss Trevanion had been rather poorly, but that they were 
 now better. I left my note with orders to forward it ; and my 
 wounds bled afresh as I came away. 
 
 We had the whole coach to ourselves in our journey, and a
 
 230 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 silent journey it was, till we arrived at a little town about eight 
 miles from my uncle's residence, to which we could only get 
 through a cross-road. My uncle insisted on preceding us that 
 night, and, though he had written, before we started, to 
 announce our coming, he was fidgety lest the poor tower should 
 not make the best figure it could ; so he went alone, and we 
 took our ease at our inn. 
 
 Betimes the next day we hired a fly-coach for a chaise 
 could never have held us and my father's books and jogged 
 through a labyrinth of villanous lanes, which no Marshal Wade 
 had ever reformed from their primal chaos. But poor Mrs. 
 Primmins and the canary-bird alone seemed sensible of the 
 jolts ; the former, who sat opposite to us, wedged amidst a 
 medley of packages, all marked " Care, to be kept top upper- 
 most " (why I know not, for they were but books, and whether 
 they lay top or bottom it could not materially affect their value), 
 the former, I say, contrived to extend her arms over those 
 disjecta membra, and, griping a window-sill with the right hand, 
 and a window-sill with the left, kept her seat rampant, like the 
 split eagle of the Austrian Empire in fact, it would be well, 
 nowadays, if the split eagle were as firm as Mrs. Primmins ! 
 As for the canary, it never failed to respond, by an astonished 
 chirp, to every " Gracious me ! " and " Lord save us ! " which 
 the delve into a rut, or the bump out of it, sent forth from Mrs. 
 Primmins's lips, with all the emphatic dolor of the Ai, ai, 
 in a Greek chorus. 
 
 But my father, with his broad hat over his brows, was in 
 deep thought. The scenes of his youth were rising before 
 him, and his memory went, smooth as a spirit's wing, over 
 delve and bump. And my mother, who sat next him, had her 
 arm on his shoulder, and was watching his face jealously. Did 
 she think that, in that thoughtful face, there was regret for the 
 old love ? Blanche, who had been very sad, and had wept 
 much and quietly since they put on her the mourning, and told 
 her that she had no brother (though she had no remembrance 
 of the lost), began now to evince infantine curiosity and eager- 
 ness to catch the first peep of her father's beloved tower. 
 And Blanche sat on my knee, and I shared her impatience. 
 At last there came in view a church spire a church a plain, 
 square building near it, the parsonage (my father's old home) 
 a long straggling street of cottages and rude shops, with a 
 better kind of house here and there and in the hinder ground, 
 a gray, deformed mass of wall and ruin, placed on one of those 
 eminences on which the Danes loved to pitch camp or build
 
 THE CAXTONS. 23! 
 
 fort, with one high, rude, Anglo-Norman tower rising from the 
 midst. Few trees were round it, and those either poplars or 
 firs, save, as we approached, one mighty oak integral and 
 unscathed. The road now wound behind the parsonage, and 
 up a steep ascent. Such a road ! the whole parish ought to 
 have been flogged for it ! If I had sent up a road like that, 
 even on a map, to Dr. Herman, I should not have sat down in 
 comfort for a week to come ! 
 
 The fly-coach came to a full stop. 
 
 " Let us get out," cried I, opening the door, and springing 
 to the ground to set the example. 
 
 Blanche followed, and my respected parents came next. 
 But when Mrs. Primmins was about to heave herself into 
 movement, 
 
 " Papa ! " said my father. " I think, Mrs. Primmins, you 
 must remain in, to keep the books steady." 
 
 " Lord love you ! " cried Mrs. Primmins, aghast. 
 
 " The subtraction of such a mass, or moles supple and 
 elastic as all flesh is, and fitting into the hard corners of the 
 inert matter such a subtraction, Mrs. Primmins, would leave 
 a vacuum which no natural system, certainly no artificial 
 organization, could sustain. There would be a regular dance 
 of atoms, Mrs. Primmins ; my books would fly here, there, on 
 the floor, out of the window ! 
 
 "Corporis officium est quoniam omnia deorsum." 
 
 The business of a body like yours, Mrs. Primmins, is to press 
 all things down to keep them tight, as you will know one of 
 these days that is, if you will do me the favor to read 
 Lucretius, and master that material philosophy, of which I 
 may say, without flattery, my dear Mrs. Primmins, that you 
 are a living illustration." 
 
 These, the first words my father had spoken since we set 
 out from the inn, seemed to assure my mother that she need 
 have no apprehension as to the character of his thoughts, for 
 her brow cleared, and she said, laughing : 
 
 " Only look at poor Primmins, and then at that hill ! " 
 
 " You may subtract Primmins, if you will be answerable for 
 the remnant, Kitty. Only, I warn you, that it is against all 
 the laws of physics." 
 
 So saying, he sprang lightly forward, and, taking hold of 
 my arm, paused and looked round, and drew .the loud, free 
 breath with which we draw native air. 
 
 " And yet," said my father, after that grateful and affec-
 
 232 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 tionate inspiration : " And yet, it must be owned, that a more 
 ugly country one cannot see out of Cambridgeshire." * 
 
 " Nay," said I, "it is bold and large ; it has a beauty of its 
 own. Those immense, undulating, uncultivated, treeless tracts 
 have surely their charm of wildness and solitude ! And how 
 they suit the character of the ruin ! All is feudal there ! I 
 understand Roland better now." 
 
 " I hope to Heaven Cardan will come to no harm ! " cried 
 my father ; " he is very handsomely bound ; and he fitted 
 beautifully just into the fleshiest part of that fidgety Prim- 
 mins." 
 
 Blanche, meanwhile, had run far before us, and I followed 
 fast. There were still the remains of that deep trench (sur- 
 rounding the ruins on three sides, leaving a ragged hill-top at 
 the fourth) which made the favorite fortification of all the 
 Teutonic tribes. A causeway, raised on brick arches, now, 
 however, supplied the place of the drawbridge, and the outer 
 gate was but a mass of picturesque ruin. Entering into the 
 courtyard or bailey, the old castle mound, from which justice 
 had been dispensed, was in full view, rising higher than the 
 broken walls around it, and partially overgrown with brambles. 
 And there stood, comparatively whole, the Tower or Keep, 
 and from its portals emerged the veteran owner. 
 
 His ancestors might have received us in more state, but 
 certainly they could not have given us a warmer greeting. In 
 fact, in his own domain, Roland appeared another man. His 
 stiffness, which was a little repulsive to those who did not 
 understand it, was all gone. He seemed less proud, precisely 
 because he and his pride, on that ground, were on good terms 
 with each other. How gallantly he extended not his arm, in 
 our modern Jack-and-Jill sort of fashion but his right hand 
 to my mother ; how carefully he led her over " brake, bush, 
 and scaur," through the low vaulted door, where a tall servant, 
 who, it was easy to see, had been a soldier in the precise 
 livery, no doubt, warranted by the heraldic colors (his stock- 
 ings were red !) stood upright as a sentry. And, coming 
 into the hall, it looked absolutely cheerful it took us by 
 surprise. There was a great fireplace, and, though it was still 
 summer, a great fire ! It did not seem a bit too much, for the 
 walls were stone, the lofty roof open to the rafters, while the 
 windows were small and narrow, and so high and so deep 
 sunk that one seemed in a vault. Nevertheless, 1 say the 
 
 * This certainly cannot be said of Cumberland generally, one of the most beautiful 
 counties in Great Britain. But the immediate district to which Mr. Caxton's exclamation 
 refers, if not ugly, is at least savage, bare, and rude.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 33 
 
 room looked sociable and cheerful, thanks principally to the 
 fire, and partly to a very ingenious medley of old tapestry at 
 one end, and matting at the other, fastened to the lower part, 
 of the walls, seconded by an arrangement of furniture which 
 did credit to my uncle's taste for the picturesque. After we 
 had looked about and admired to our heart's content, Roland 
 took us not up one of those noble staircases you see in the 
 latter manorial residences, but a little winding stone stair, 
 into the 'rooms he had appropriated to his guests. There was 
 first a small chamber, which he called my father's study ; in 
 truth, it would have done for any philosopher or saint who 
 wished to shut out the world, and might have passed for the 
 interior of such a column as the Stylites inhabited ; for you 
 must have climbed a ladder to have looked out of the window, 
 and then the vision o'f no short-sighted man could have got 
 over the interval in the wall made by the narrow casement, 
 which, after all, gave no other prospect than a Cumberland 
 sky, with an occasional rook in it. But my father, I think I 
 have said before, did not much care for scenery, and he looked 
 round with great satisfaction upon the retreat assigned him. 
 
 "We can knock up shelves for your books in no time," said 
 my uncle, rubbing his hands. 
 
 " It would be a charity," quoth my father, " for they have 
 been very long in a recumbent position, and would like to 
 stretch themselves, poor things. My dear Roland, this room 
 is made for books so round and so deep. I shall sit here like 
 Truth in a well." 
 
 " And there is a room for you, sister, just out of it," said my 
 uncle, opening a little, low, prison-like door into a charming 
 room, for its window was low, and it had an iron balcony ; 
 " and out of that is the bedroom. For you, Pisistratus, my 
 boy, I am afraid that it is soldier's quarters, indeed, with which 
 you will have to put up. But never mind ; in a day or two 
 we shall make all worthy a general of your illustrious name 
 for he was a great general, Pisistratus the First, was he not, 
 brother ? " 
 
 " All tyrants are," said my father : " the knack of soldiering 
 is indispensable to them." 
 
 " Oh, you may say what you please here ! " said Roland, in 
 high good-humor, as he drew me downstairs, still apologizing 
 for my quarters, and so earnestly that I made up my mind 
 that I was to be put into an oubliette. Nor were my suspicions 
 much dispelled on seeing that we had to leave the keep, 
 and pick our way into what seemed to me a mere heap of rub-
 
 234 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 bish, on the dexter side of the court. But I was agreeably 
 surprised to find, amidst these wrecks, a room with a noble 
 casement, commanding the whole country, and placed imme- 
 diately over a plot of ground cultivated as a garden. The 
 furniture was ample, though homely ; the floors and walls well 
 matted ; and, altogether, despite the inconvenience of having 
 to cross the courtyard to get to the rest of the house, and being 
 wholly without the modern luxury of a bell, I thought that I 
 could not be better lodged. 
 
 " But this is a perfect bower, my dear uncle ! Depend on it, 
 it was the bower-chamber of the Dames de Caxton heaven 
 rest them ! " 
 
 " No," said my uncle gravely ; " I suspect it must have been 
 the chaplain's room, for the chapel was to the right of you. 
 An earlier chapel, indeed, formerly existed in the keep tower 
 for, indeed, it is scarcely a true keep without chapel, well, and 
 hall. I can show you part of the roof of the first, and the two 
 last are entire ; the well is very curious, formed in the sub- 
 stance of the wall at one angle of the hall. In Charles the 
 First's time, our ancestor lowered his only son down in a 
 bucket, and kept him there six hours, while a Malignant mob 
 was storming the tower. I need not say that our ancestor 
 himself scorned to hide from such a rabble, for he was a grown 
 man. The boy lived to be a sad spendthrift, and used the 
 well for cooling his wine. He drank up a great many good 
 acres." 
 
 " I should scratch him out of the pedigree, if I were you. 
 But, pray, have you not discovered the proper chamber of 
 that great Sir William, about whom my father is so shamefully 
 skeptical ? " 
 
 " To tell you a secret," answered the Captain, giving me a 
 sly poke in the ribs, " I have put your father into it ! There 
 are the initial letters W. C. let into the cusp of the York rose, 
 and the date, three years before the battle of Bosworth, over 
 the chimneypiece." 
 
 I could not help joining my uncle's grim, low laugh at this 
 characteristic pleasantry ; and after I had complimented him 
 him on so judicious a mode of proving his point, I asked him 
 how he could possibly have contrived to fit up the ruin so well, 
 especially as he had scarcely visited it since his purchase. 
 
 " Why," said he, " some years ago, that poor fellow you now 
 see as my servant, and who is gardener, bailiff, seneschal, 
 butler, and anything else you can put him to, was sent out of 
 the army on the invalid list. So I placed him here ; and as
 
 THE CAXTONS. 235 
 
 he is a capital carpenter, and has had a very fair education, I 
 told him what I wanted, and put by a small sum every year 
 for repairs and furnishing. It is astonishing how little it costs 
 me ; for Bolt, poor fellow (that is his name), caught the right 
 spirit of the thing, and most of the furniture (which you see is 
 ancient and suitable) he picked up at different cottages and 
 farmhouses in the neighborhood. At it is, however, we have 
 plenty more rooms here and there only, of late," continued 
 my uncle, slightly changing color, " I had no money to spare. 
 But come," he resumed, with an evident effort "come and see 
 my barrack : it is on the other side of the hall, and made out 
 of what no doubt were the butteries." 
 
 We reached the yard and found the fly-coach had just 
 crawled to the door. My father's head was buried deep in 
 the vehicle he was gathering up his packages, and sending 
 out, oracle-like, various muttered objurgations and anathemas 
 upon Mrs. Primmins and her vacuum ; which Mrs. Primmins, 
 standing by and making a lap with her apron to receive the 
 packages and anathemas simultaneously, bore with the mild- 
 ness of an angel, lifting up her eyes to heaven and murmuring 
 something about " poor old bones." Though, as for Mrs. 
 Primmins's bones, they had been myths these twenty years, 
 and you might as soon have found a Plesiosaurus in the flat 
 lands of Romney Marsh as a bone amidst those layers of flesh 
 in which my poor father thought he had so carefully cottoned 
 up his Cardan. 
 
 Leaving these parties to adjust matters between them, we 
 stepped under the low doorway, and entered Roland's room. 
 Oh, certainly Bolt had caught the spirit of the thing ! cer- 
 tainly he had penetrated down to the pathos that lay within 
 the deeps of Roland's character. Buffon says " the style is 
 the man "; there, the room was the man. That nameless, 
 inexpressible, soldier-like, methodical neatness which belonged 
 to Roland that was the first thing that struck one that was 
 the general character of the whole. Then, in details, there, in 
 stout oak shelves, were the books on which my father loved to 
 jest his more imaginative brother there they were, Froissart, 
 Barante, Joinville, the " Mort d'Arthur," " Amadis of Gaul," 
 Spenser's " Fairy Queen," a noble copy of Strutt's " Horda," 
 Mallet's " Northern Antiquities," Percy's " Reliques," Pope's 
 " Homer," books on gunnery, archery, hawking, fortification 
 old chivalry and modern war together cheek -by-jowl. 
 
 Old chivalry and modern war ! look to that tilting helmet 
 with the tall Caxton crest, and look to that trophy near it, a
 
 236 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 French cuirass and that old banner (a knight's pennon) 
 surmounting those crossed bayonets. And over the chimney- 
 piece there, bright, clean, and, I warrant you, dusted daily, 
 are Roland's own sword, his holsters and pistols, yea, the 
 saddle, pierced and lacerated, from which he had reeled when 
 that leg I gasped I felt it all at a glance, and I stole softly 
 to the spot, and, had Roland not been there, I could have 
 kissed that sword as reverently as if it had been a Bayard's or 
 a Sidney's. 
 
 My uncle was too modest to guess my emotion ; he rather 
 thought I had turned my face to conceal a smile at his vanity, 
 and said, in a deprecating tone of apology : " It was all Bolt's 
 doing, foolish fellow." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OUR host regaled us with a hospitality that notably con- 
 trasted his economical, thrifty habits in London. To be sure 
 Bolt had caught the great pike which headed the feast ; and 
 Bolt, no doubt, had helped to rear those fine chickens ab ovo ; 
 Bolt, I have no doubt, made that excellent Spanish omelette ; 
 and, for the rest, the products of the sheepwalk and the 
 garden came in as volunteer auxiliaries very different from 
 the mercenary recruits by which those metropolitan Condottieri, 
 the butcher and greengrocer, hasten the ruin of that melan- 
 choly commonwealth called " genteel poverty." 
 
 Our evening passed cheerfully ; and Roland, contrary to 
 his custom, was talker in chief. It was eleven o'clock before 
 Bolt appeared with a lantern to conduct me through the court- 
 yard to my dormitory among the ruins a ceremony which, 
 every night, shine or dark, he insisted upon punctiliously 
 performing. 
 
 It was long before I could sleep before I could believe 
 that but so few days had elapsed since Roland heard of his 
 son's death that son whose fate had so long tortured him ; 
 and yet, never had Roland appeared so free from sorrow '. 
 Was it natural was it effort ? Several days passed before 1 
 could answer that question, and then not wholly to my satis- 
 faction. Effort there was, or rather resolute, systematic 
 determination. At moments Roland's head drooped, his 
 brows met, and the whole man seemed to sink. Yet these 
 were only moments ; he would rouse himself up, like a dozing 
 charger at the sound of a trumpet, and shake off the creeping 
 weight. But whether from the vigor of his determination, or
 
 THE CAXTONS. 237 
 
 from some aid in other trains of reflection, I could not but 
 perceive that Roland's sadness really was less grave and bitter 
 than it had been, or than it was natural to suppose. He 
 seemed to transfer daily, more and more, his affections from 
 the dead to those around him, especially to Blanche and myself. 
 He let it be seen that he looked on me now as his lawful 
 successor, as the future supporter of his name : he was fond 
 of confiding to me all his little plans, and consulting me on 
 them. He would walk with me around his domains (of which 
 I shall say more hereafter), point out, from every eminence 
 we climbed, where the broad lands which his forefathers had 
 owned stretched away to the horizon ; unfold with tender 
 hand the mouldering pedigree, and rest lingeringly on those 
 of his ancestors who had held martial post, or had died on 
 the field. There was a crusader who had followed Richard to 
 Ascalon ; there was a knight who had fought at Agincourt ; 
 there was a cavalier (whose picture was still extant), with fair 
 love-locks, who had fallen at Worcester no doubt the same 
 who had cooled his son in that well which the son devoted to 
 more agreeable associations. But of all these worthies there was 
 none whom my uncle, perhaps from the spirit of contradiction, 
 valued like that apocryphal Sir William : and why ? Because, 
 when the apostate Stanley turned the fortunes of the field at 
 Bosworth, and when that cry of despair, " Treason ! treason ! " 
 burst from the lips of the last Plantagenet, " amongst the 
 faithless," this true soldier, " faithful found ! " had fallen in 
 that lion-rush which Richard made at his foe. " Your father 
 tells me that Richard was a murderer and usurper," quoth my 
 uncle. " Sir, that might be true or not ; but it was not on 
 the field of battle that his followers were to reason on the 
 character of the master who trusted them, especially when a 
 legion of foreign hirelings stood opposed to them. I would 
 not have descended from that turncoat Stanley to be lord of 
 all the lands the Earls of Derby can boast of. Sir, in loyalty, 
 men fight and die for a grand principle and a lofty passion ; 
 and this brave Sir William was paying back to the last Plan- 
 tagenet the benefits he had received from the first ! " 
 
 " And yet it may be doubted," said I maliciously, " whether 
 William Caxton the printer did not " 
 
 " Plague, pestilence, and fire seize William Caxton the 
 printer, and his invention too ! " cried my uncle barbarously. 
 " When there were only a few books, at least they were good 
 ones ; and now they are so plentiful, all they do is to confound 
 the judgment, unsettle the reason, drive the good books out
 
 238 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 of cultivation, and draw a ploughshare of innovation over 
 every ancient landmark ; seduce the women, womanize the 
 men, upset states, thrones, and churches ; rear a race of chat- 
 tering, conceited coxcombs, who can always find books in 
 p?enty to excuse them from doing their duty ; make the poor 
 discontented, the rich crotchety and whimsical, refine away the 
 stout old virtues into quibbles and sentiments ! All imagina- 
 tion formerly was expended in noble action, adventure, enter- 
 prise, high deeds and aspirations ; now a man can but be 
 imaginative by feeding on the false excitement of passions he 
 never felt, dangers he never shared ; and he fritters away all 
 there is of life to spare in him upon the fictitious love- 
 sorrows of Bond Street and St. James's. Sir, chivalry ceased 
 when the press rose ! And to fasten upon me, as a forefather, 
 out of all men who ever lived and sinned, the very man who 
 has most destroyed what I most valued who, by the Lord ! 
 with his cursed invention has well-nigh got rid of respect for 
 forefathers altogether is a cruelty of which my brother had 
 never been capable, if that printer's devil had not got hold of 
 him ! " 
 
 That a man in this blessed nineteenth century should be 
 such a Vandal ! And that my Uncle Roland should talk in a 
 strain that Totila would have been ashamed of, within so 
 short a time after my father's scientific and erudite oration on 
 the Hygeiana of Books, was enough to make one despair of 
 the progress of intellect and the perfectibility of our species. 
 And I have no manner of doubt that, all the while, my uncle 
 had a brace of books in his pockets, Robert Hall one of them ! 
 In truth he had talked himself into a passion, and did not 
 know what nonsense he was saying. But this explosion of 
 Captain Roland's has shattered the thread of my matter. 
 Pouff ! I must take breath and begin again ! 
 
 Yes, in spite of my sauciness, the old soldier evidently 
 took to me more and more. And besides our critical examina- 
 tion of the property and the pedigree, he carried me with him 
 on long excursions to distant villages, where some memorial of 
 a defunct Caxton, a coat of arms, or an epitaph on a tomb- 
 stone, might be still seen. And he made me pore over topo- 
 graphical works and county histories (forgetful, Goth that he 
 was, that for those very authorities he was indebted to the 
 repudiated printer !) to find some anecdote of his beloved 
 dead ! In truth, the county for miles round bore the vestigia 
 of those old Caxtons ; their handwriting was on many a broken 
 wall. And, obscure as they all were compared to that great
 
 THE CAXTON5. 2J0 
 
 Operative of the Sanctuary at Westminster, whom my father 
 clung to still, that the yesterdays that had lighted them the 
 way to dusty death had cast no glare on dishonored scutcheons 
 seemed clear, from the popular respect and traditional affec- 
 tion in which I found that the name was still held in hamlet 
 and homestead. It was pleasant to see the veneration with 
 which this small hidalgo of some three hundred a year was 
 held, and the patriarchal affection with which he returned it. 
 Roland was a man who would walk into a cottage, rest his 
 cork leg on the hearth, and talk for the hour together upon all 
 that lay nearest to the hearts of the owners. There is a 
 peculiar spirit of aristocracy amongst agricultural peasants : 
 they like old names and families ; they identify themselves 
 with the honors of a house, as if of its clan. They do not care 
 so much for wealth as townsfolk and the middle class do ; 
 they have a pity, but a respectful one, for well-born poverty. 
 And then this Roland, too who would go and dine in a cook- 
 shop, and receive change for a shilling, and shun the ruinous 
 luxury of a hack cabriolet could be positively extravagant in 
 his liberalities to those around him. He was altogether another 
 being in his paternal acres. The shabby-genteel, half-pay cap- 
 tain, lost in the whirl of London, here luxuriated into a digni- 
 fied ease of manner that Chesterfield might have admired. 
 And, if to please is the true sign of politeness, I wish you 
 could have seen the faces that smiled upon Captain Roland, as 
 he walked down the village, nodding from side to side. 
 
 One day a frank, hearty old woman, who had known Roland 
 as a boy, seeing him lean on my arm, stopped us, as she said 
 bluffly, to take a " geud luik " at me. 
 
 Fortunately I was stalwart enough to pass muster, even in 
 the eyes of a Cumberland matron ; and after a compliment at 
 which Roland seemed much pleased, she said to me, but point- 
 ing to the Captain : 
 
 " Hegh, sir, now you ha the bra time before you ; you maun 
 een try and be as geud as he. And if life last, ye wull too 
 for there never waur a bad ane of that stock. Wi' heads kindly 
 stup'd to the least, and lifted manfu' oop to the heighest that 
 ye all war' sin ye came from the Ark. Blessin's on the ould 
 name though little pelf goes with it it sounds on the peur 
 man's ear like a bit of gould ! " 
 
 " Do you not see now," said Roland, as we turned away, 
 " what we owe to a name, and what to our forefathers ? Do 
 you not see why the remotest ancestor has a right to our re- 
 spect and consideration for he was a parent ? ' Honor your
 
 246 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 parents ' the law does not say, ' Honor your children ?' If 
 a child disgrace us, and the dead, and the sanctity of this great 
 heritage of their virtues, the name if he does " Roland 
 stopped short, and added fervently : " But you are my heir 
 now I have no fear ! What matter one foolish old man's 
 sorrows ? The name, that property of generations, is saved, 
 thank Heaven the name ! " 
 
 Now the riddle was solved, and I understood why, amidst 
 -all his natural grief for a son's loss, that proud father was con- 
 soled. For he was less himself a father than a son son to the 
 long dead. From every grave where a progenitor slept, he 
 had heard a parent's voice. He could bear to be bereaved, if 
 the forefathers were not dishonored. Roland was more than 
 half a Roman the son might still cling to his household affec- 
 tions, but the lares were a part of his religion. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BUT I ought to be hard at work, preparing myself for Cam- 
 bridge. The deuce ! how can I ? The point in academical 
 education on which I require most preparation is Greek com- 
 position. I come to my father, who, one might think, was at 
 home enough in this. But rare indeed is it to find a great 
 scholar who is a good teacher. 
 
 My dear father ! if one is content to take you in your own 
 way, there never was a more admirable instructor for the 
 heart, the head, the principles, or the taste when you have 
 discovered that there is some one sore to be healed, one defect 
 to be repaired : and you have rubbed your spectacles, and got 
 your hand fairly into that recess between your frill and your 
 waistcoat. But to go to you, cut and dry, monotonously, reg- 
 ularly, book and exercise in hand, to see the mournful patience 
 with which you tear yourself from that great volume of Car- 
 dan in the very honeymoon of possession, and then to note 
 those mild eyebrows gradually distend themselves into per- 
 plexed diagnosis, over some false quantity or some barbarous 
 collocation, till there steal forth that horrible " Papae ! " which 
 means more on your lips than I am sure it ever did when Latin 
 was a live language, and " Papae ! " a natural and unpedantic 
 ejaculation ! no, I would sooner blunder through the dark 
 by myself a thousand times, than light my rushlight at the 
 lamp of that Phlegethonian " Papae ! " 
 
 And then my father would wisely and kindly, but wondrous
 
 THE CAXTONS. 241 
 
 slowly, erase three-fourths of one's pet verses, and intercalate 
 others that one saw were exquisite, but could not exactly see 
 why. And then one asked why ; and my father shook his 
 head in despair, and said : " But you ought to feel why ! " 
 
 In short, scholarship to him was like poetry : he could no 
 more teach it you than Pindar could have taught you how to 
 make an ode. You breathed the aroma, but you could no 
 more seize and analyze it, than, with the opening of your naked 
 hand, you could carry off the scent of a rose. I soon left my 
 father in peace to Cardan, and to the Great Book, which last, 
 by the way, advanced but slowly. For Uncle Jack had now 
 insisted on its being published in quarto, with illustrative 
 plates ; and those plates took an immense time, and were to 
 cost an immense sum but that cost was the affair of the Anti- 
 Publisher Society. But how can I settle to work by myself ? 
 No sooner have I got into my room penitus ab orbe divisus, 
 as I rashly think than there is a tap at the door. Now it is 
 my mother, who is benevolently engaged upon making curtains 
 to all the windows (a trifling superfluity that Bolt had forgotten 
 or disdained), and who wants to know how the draperies are 
 fashioned at Mr. Trevanion's : a pretence to have me near her, 
 and see with her own eyes that I am not fretting ; the moment 
 she hears I have shut myself up in my room, she is sure that 
 it is for sorrow. Now it is Bolt, who is making book-shelves 
 for my father, and desires to consult me at every turn, espe- 
 cially as I have given him a Gothic design, which pleases him 
 hugely. Now it is Blanche, whom, in an evil hour, I under- 
 took to teach to draw, and who comes in on tiptoe, vowing 
 she'll not disturb me, and sits so quiet that she fidgets me out 
 of all patience. Now, and much more often, it is the Captain, 
 who wants me to walk, to ride, to fish. And, by St. Hubert 
 (saint of the chase) ! bright August comes, and there is moor- 
 game on those barren wolds, and my uncle has given me the 
 gun he shot with at my age single-barrelled, flint lock but 
 you would not have laughed at it if you had seen the strange 
 feats it did in Roland's hands while in mine, I could always 
 lay the blame on the flint lock ! Time, in short, passed 
 rapidly ; and if Roland and I had our dark hours, we chased 
 them away before they could settle shot them on the wing as 
 they got up. 
 
 Then, too, though the immediate scenery around my uncle's 
 was so bleak and desolate, the country within a few miles was 
 so full of objects of interest, of landscapes so poetically grand 
 or lovely ; and occasionally we coaxed my father from the
 
 242 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Cardan, and spent whole clays by the margin of some glorious 
 lake. 
 
 Amongst these excursions, I made one by myself to that 
 house in which my father had known the bliss and the pangs 
 of that stern first-love which still left its scars fresh on my 
 own memory. The house, large and imposing, was shut up 
 the Trevanions had not been there for years the pleasure- 
 grounds had been contracted into the smallest possible space. 
 There was no positive decay or ruin that Trevanion would 
 never have allowed ; but there was the dreary look of absentee- 
 ship everywhere. I penetrated into the house with the help 
 of my card and half-a-crown. I saw that memorable boudoir ; 
 I could fancy the very spot in which my father had heard the 
 sentence that had changed the current of his life. And when 
 I returned home I looked with new tenderness on my father's 
 placid brow, and blessed anew that tender helpmate, who, in 
 her patient love, had chased from it every shadow. 
 
 I had received one letter from Vivian a few days after our 
 arrival. It had been re-directed from my father's house, at 
 which I had given him my address. It was short, but seemed 
 cheerful. He said that he believed he had at last hit on the 
 right way, and should keep to it ; that he and the world were 
 better friends than they had been ; that the only way to keep 
 friends with the world was to treat it as a tamed tiger, and 
 have one hand on a crowbar while one fondled the beast with 
 the other. He enclosed me a banknote, which somewhat more 
 than covered his debt to me, and bade me pay him the surplus 
 when he should claim it as a millionnaire. He gave me no 
 address in his letter, but it bore the postmark of Godalming. 
 I had the impertinent curiosity to look into an old topographi- 
 cal work upon Surrey, and in a supplemental itinerary I found 
 this passage : " To the left of the beech-wood, three miles 
 from Godalming, you catch a glimpse of the elegant seat of 
 Francis Vivian, Esq." To judge by the date of the work, the 
 said Francis Vivian might be the grandfather of my friend, his 
 namesake. There could no longer be any doubt as to the 
 parentage of this prodigal son. 
 
 The long vacation was now nearly over, and all his guests 
 were to leave the poor Captain. In fact, we had made a con- 
 siderable tresspass on his hospitality. It was settled that I 
 was to accompany my father and mother to their long-neg- 
 lected penales, and start thence for Cambridge. 
 
 Our parting was sorrowful even Mrs. Primmins wept as 
 she shook hands with Bolt. But Bolt, an old soldier, was of
 
 THE CAXTONS. 243 
 
 course a lady's man. The brothers did not shake hands only ; 
 they fondly embraced, as brothers of that time of life rarely 
 do nowadays, except on the stage. And Blanche, with one 
 arm round my mother's neck and one round mine, sobbed in 
 my ear : " But I will be your little wife, I will." Finally, the 
 fly-coach once more received us all all but poor Blanche, and 
 we looked round and missed her. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ALMA MATER ! Alma Mater ! New-fashioned folks, with 
 their large theories of education, may find fault with thee. 
 But a true Spartan mother thou art hard and stern as the 
 old matron who bricked up her son Pausanias, bringing the 
 first stone to immure him ; hard and stern, I say, to the worth- 
 less, but full of majestic tenderness to the worthy. 
 
 For a young man to go up to Cambridge (I say nothing of 
 Oxford, knowing nothing thereof) merely as routine work, to 
 lounge through three years to a degree among the 01 noXkoi 
 for such an one, Oxford Street herself, whom the immortal 
 Opium-Eater hath so direly apostrophized, is not a more care- 
 less and stony-hearted mother. But for him who will read, 
 who will work, who will seize the rare advantages proffered, 
 who will select his friends judiciously yea, out of that vast 
 ferment of young idea in its lusty vigor, choose the good and 
 reject the bad there is plenty to make those three years rich 
 with fruit imperishable three years nobly spent, even though 
 one must pass over the Ass's Bridge to get into the Temple 
 of Honor. 
 
 Important changes in the Academical system have been 
 recently announced, and honors are henceforth to be accorded 
 to the successful disciples in moral and natural sciences. By 
 the side of the old throne of Mathesis, they have placed two 
 very useful fauteuils a la Voltaire. I have no objection ; but, 
 in those three years of life, it is not so much the thing learned, 
 as the steady perseverance in learning something that is 
 excellent. 
 
 It was fortunate, in one respect, for me that I had seen a 
 little of the real world, the metropolitan, before I came to that 
 mimic one, the cloistral. For what were called pleasures in 
 the last, and which might have allured me, had I come fresh 
 from school, had no charm for me now. Hard drinking and 
 high play, a certain mixture of coarseness and extravagance, 
 made the fashion among the idle when I was at the university,
 
 244 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 consule Planco when Wordsworth was master of Trinity : it 
 may be altered now. 
 
 But I had already outlived such temptations, and so, natu- 
 rally, I was thrown out of the society of the idle, and somewhat 
 into that of the laborious. 
 
 Still, to speak frankly, I had no longer the old pleasure in 
 books. If my acquaintance with the great world had de- 
 stroyed the temptation to puerile excesses, it had also increased 
 my constitutional tendency to practical action. And, alas ! 
 in spite of all the benefit I had derived from Robert Hall, 
 there were times when memory was so poignant that I had no 
 choice but to rush from the lonely room haunted by tempting 
 phantoms too dangerously fair, and sober down the fever of 
 the heart by some violent bodily fatigue. The ardor which 
 belongs to early youth, and which it best dictates to knowl- 
 edge, had been charmed prematurely to shrines less severely 
 sacred. Therefore though I labored, it was with that full 
 sense of labor which (as I found at a much later period of life) 
 the truly triumphant student never knows. Learning that 
 marble image warms into life, not at the toil of the chisel, 
 but the worship of the sculptor. The mechanical workman 
 finds but the voiceless stone. 
 
 At my uncle's such a thing as a newspaper rarely made its 
 appearance. At Cambridge, even among reading men, the 
 newspapers had their due importance. Politics ran high ; and 
 I had not been three days at Cambridge before I heard Tre- 
 vanion's name. Newspapers, therefore, had their charms for 
 me. Trevanion's prophecy about himself seemed about to be 
 fulfilled. There were rumors of changes in the Cabinet. 
 Trevanion's name was bandied to and fro, struck from praise 
 to blame, high and low, as a shuttlecock. Still the changes 
 were not made, and the Cabinet held firm. Not a word in the 
 Morning Post under the head of " fashionable intelligence," as 
 to rumors that would have agitated me more than the rise and 
 fall of governments ; no hint of " the speedy nuptials of the 
 daughter and sole heiress of a distinguished and wealthy com- 
 moner "; only now and then, in enumerating the circle of 
 brilliant guests at the house of some party chief, I gulped 
 back the heart that rushed to my lips, when I saw the names 
 of Lady Ellinor and Miss Trevanion. 
 
 But amongst all that prolific progeny of the periodical 
 press remote offspring of my great namesake and ancestor 
 (for I hold the faith of my father) where was the Literary 
 Times ? What had so long retarded its promised blossoms ?
 
 THE CAXTONS. 245 
 
 Not a leaf in the shape of advertisements had yet emerged 
 from its mother earth. I hoped from my heart that the whole 
 thing was abandoned, and would not mention it in my letters 
 home, lest I should revive the mere idea of it. But, in default 
 of the Literary Times, there did appear a new journal, a daily 
 journal, too ; a tall, slender, and meagre stripling, with a vast 
 head, by way of prospectus, which protruded itself for three 
 weeks successively at the top of the leading article ; with a 
 fine and subtle body of paragraphs ; and the smallest legs, in 
 the way of advertisements, that any poor newspaper ever 
 stood upon ! And yet this attenuated journal had a plump 
 and plethoric title a title that smacked of turtle and venison ; 
 an aldermanic, portly, grandiose, Falstaffian title it was 
 called THE CAPITALIST. And all those fine, subtle para- 
 graphs were larded out with recipes how to make money. 
 There was an El Dorado in every sentence. To believe that 
 paper, you would think no man had ever yet found a proper 
 return for his pounds, shillings, and pence. You would turn 
 up your nose at twenty per cent. There was a great deal 
 about Ireland not her wrongs, thank Heaven ! but her 
 fisheries ; a long inquiry what had become of the pearls for 
 which Britain was once so famous ; a learned disquisition upon 
 certain lost gold mines now happily rediscovered ; a very 
 ingenious proposition to turn London smoke into manure, by 
 a new chemical process ; recommendations to the poor to 
 hatch chickens in ovens like the ancient Egyptians ; agricul- 
 tural schemes for sowing the waste lands in England with 
 onions, upon the system adopted near Bedford net produce 
 one hundred pounds an acre. In short, according to that 
 paper, every rood of ground might well maintain its man, and 
 every shilling be like Hobson's money-bag, "the fruitful 
 parent of a hundred more." For three days, at the newspaper 
 room of the Union Club, men talked of this journal ; some 
 pished, some sneered, some wondered : till an ill-natured 
 mathematician, who had just taken his degree, and had spare 
 time on his hands, sent a long letter to the Morning Chronicle, 
 showing up more blunders, in some article to which the editor 
 of The Capitalist had specially invited attention, than would 
 have paved the whole island of Laputa. After that time not 
 a soul read The Capitalist. How long it dragged on its 
 existence I know not ; but it certainly did not die of a maladie 
 de langueur. 
 
 Little thought I, when I joined in the laugh against The 
 Capitalist, that I ought rather to have followed it to its grave,
 
 246 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 in black crape and weepers unfeeling wretch that I was ! 
 But, like a poet, O Capitalist ! thou wert not discovered, and 
 appreciated, and prized, and mourned, till thou wert dead and 
 buried, and the bill came in for thy monument ! 
 
 The first term of my college life was just expiring, when I 
 received a letter from my mother, so agitated, so alarming, at 
 first reading so unintelligible, that I could only see that some 
 great misfortune had befallen us ; and I stopped short and 
 dropped on my knees to pray for the life and health of those 
 whom that misfortune more specially seemed to menace ; and 
 then and then, towards the end of the last blurred sentence, 
 read twice, thrice, over, I could cry : " Thank Heaven, thank 
 Heaven ! it is only, then, money, after all." 
 
 PART ELEVENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE next day, on the outside of the Cambridge Telegraph, 
 there was one passenger who ought to have impressed his 
 fellow-travellers with a very respectful idea of his lore in the 
 dead languages ; for not a single syllable, in a live one, did he 
 vouchsafe to utter from the moment he ascended that " bad 
 eminence," to the moment in which he regained his mother 
 earth. " Sleep," says honest Sancho, "covers a man better 
 than a cloak." I am ashamed of thee, honest Sancho ! thou 
 art a sad plagiarist ; for Tibullus said pretty nearly the same 
 thing before thee : 
 
 " Te somnus fusco velavit amictu." * 
 
 But is it not silence as good a cloak as sleep ? Does it not 
 wrap a man round with as offusc and impervious a fold ? 
 Silence what a world it covers ! What busy schemes what 
 bright hopes and dark fears what ambition, or what despair ! 
 Do you ever see a man in any society sitting mute for hours, 
 and not feel an uneasy curiosity to penetrate the wall he thus 
 builds up between others and himself ? Does he not interest 
 you far more than the brilliant talker at your left, the airy wit 
 at your right, whose shafts fall in vain on the sullen barrier of 
 the silent man ! Silence, dark sister of Nox and Erebus, how, 
 
 * Tibullus, iii. 4, 55.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 247 
 
 layer upon layer, shadow upon shadow, blackness upon black- 
 ness, thou stretchest thyself from hell to heaven, over thy two 
 chosen haunts man's heart and the grave ! 
 
 So, then, wrapped in my greatcoat and my silence, I per- 
 formed my journey ; and on the evening of the second day I 
 reached the old-fashioned brick house. How shrill on my ears 
 sounded the bell ! How strange and ominous to my im- 
 patience seemed the light gleaming across the windows of the 
 hall ! How my heart beat as I watched the face of the servant 
 who opened the gate to my summons ! 
 
 "All well? "cried I. 
 
 " All well, sir," answered the servant cheerfully. " Mr. 
 Squills, indeed, is with master, but I don't think there is any- 
 thing the matter." 
 
 But now my mother appeared at the threshold, and I was in 
 her arms. 
 
 " Sisty, Sisty ! my dear, dear son ! beggared, perhaps 
 and my fault mine." 
 
 " Yours ! Come into this room, out of hearing your 
 fault?" 
 
 " Yes yes ! for if I had had no brother, or if I had not 
 been led away if I had, as I ought, entreated poor Austin 
 not to " 
 
 " My dear, dearest mother, you accuse yourself for what, it 
 seems, was my uncle's misfortune I am sure not even his 
 fault ! (I made a gulp there.') No, lay the fault on the right 
 shoulders the defunct shoulders of that horrible progenitor, 
 William Caxton the printer, for, though I don't yet know the 
 particulars of what has happened, I will lay a wager it is con- 
 nected with that fatal invention of printing. Come, come 
 my father is well, is he not?" 
 
 " Yes, thank Heaven." 
 
 " And I too, and Roland, and little Blanche ! Why, then, 
 you are right to thank Heaven, for your true treasures are 
 untouched. But sit down and explain, pray." 
 
 " I cannot explain. I do not understand anything more 
 than he, my brother mine ! has involved Austin in in " 
 (a fresh burst of tears). 
 
 I comforted, scolded, laughed, preached, and adjured in a 
 breath ; and then, drawing my mother gently on, entered my 
 father's study. 
 
 At the table was seated Mr. Squills, pen in hand, and a 
 glass of his favorite punch by his side. My father was stand- 
 ing on the hearth, a shade more pale, but with a resolute expres-
 
 248 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 sion on his countenance, which was new to its indolent, thought- 
 ful mildness. He lifted his eyes as the door opened, and then, 
 putting his finger to his lips, as he glanced towards my mother, 
 he said gayly : " No great harm done. Don't believe her ! 
 Women always exaggerate, and make realities of their own 
 bugbears : it is the vice of their lively imaginations, as Wierus 
 has clearly shown in accounting for the marks, moles, and 
 hare-lips which they inflict upon their innocent infants before 
 they are even born. My dear boy," added my father, as I here 
 kissed him and smiled in his face, " I thank you for that smile ! 
 God bless you ! " he wrung my hand, and turned a little 
 aside. 
 
 " It is a great comfort," renewed my father, after a short 
 pause, " to know, when a misfortune happens, that it could 
 not be helped. Squills has just discovered that I have no bump 
 of cautiousness ; so that, craniologically speaking, if I had 
 escaped one imprudence, I should certainly have run my head 
 against another." 
 
 " A man with your development is made to be taken in," 
 said Mr. Squills consolingly. 
 
 " Do you hear that, my own Kitty ? And have you the heart 
 to blame Jack any longer a poor creature cursed with a bump 
 that would take in the Stock Exchange ? And can any one 
 resist his bump, Squills ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! " said the surgeon authoritatively. 
 
 " Sooner or latter it must involve him in its airy meshes 
 eh, Squills ? entrap him into its fatal cerebral cell. There his 
 fate waits him, like the ant-lion in its pit." 
 
 " Too true," quoth Squills. " What a phrenological lecturer 
 you would have made ! " 
 
 " Go, then, my love," said my father, " and lay no blame but 
 on this melancholy cavity of mine, where cautiousness is not! 
 Go, and let Sisty have some supper ; for Squills says that he 
 has a fine development of the mathematical organs, and we 
 want his help. We are hard at work on figures, Pisistratus." 
 
 My mother looked broken-hearted, and, obeying submissively, 
 stole to the door without a word. But as she reached the 
 threshold she turned round, and beckoned to me to follow her. 
 
 I whispered my father, and went out. My mother was stand- 
 ing in the hall, and I saw by the lamp that she had dried her 
 tears, and that her face, though very sad, was more composed. 
 
 " Sisty," she said, in a low voice which struggled to be firm, 
 " promise me that you will tell me all the worst, Sisty. They 
 keep it from me, and that is my hardest punishment ; for when
 
 THE CAXTONS. . 249 
 
 I don't know all that he that Austin suffers, it seems to me as if 
 I had lost his heart. Oh, Sisty ! my child, my child, don't fear 
 me ! I shall be happy whatever befalls us, if I once get back 
 my privilege my privilege, Sisty, to comfort, to share ! Do 
 you understand me? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, my mother ! And with your good sense, and 
 clear woman's wit, if you will but feel how much we want them, 
 you will be the best counsellor we could have. So never fear ; 
 you and I will have no secrets." 
 
 My mother kissed me, and went away with a less heavy step. 
 
 As I re-entered, my father came across the room and 
 embraced me. 
 
 " My son," he said in a faltering voice, " if your modest 
 prospects in life are ruined " 
 
 " Father, father, can you think of me at such a moment ! 
 Me ! Is it possible to ruin the young, and strong, and healthy ! 
 Ruin me, with these thews and sinews ! Ruin me, with the 
 education you have given me thews and sinews of the mind ! 
 Oh no ! there, Fortune is harmless ! And you forget, sir the 
 saffron bag ! " 
 
 Squills leapt up, and, wiping his eyes with one hand, gave 
 me a sounding slap on the shoulder with the other. 
 
 " I am proud of the care I took of your infancy, Master 
 Caxton. That comes of strengthening the digestive organs in 
 early childhood. Such sentiments are a proof of magnificent 
 ganglions in a perfect state of order. When a man's tongue 
 is as smooth as I am sure yours is, he slips through misfortune 
 like an eel." 
 
 I laughed outright, my father smiled faintly : and, seating 
 myself, I drew towards me a paper filled with Squills' memo- 
 randa, and said, " Now to find the unknown quantity. What 
 on earth is this ? ' Supposed value of books, ^750.' Oh, 
 father ! this is impossible. I was prepared for anything but 
 that. Your books they are your life ! " 
 
 " Nay," said my father ; " after all, they are the offending 
 party in thjs case, and so ought to be the principal victims. 
 Besides, I believe I know most of them by heart. But, in 
 truth, we are only entering all our effects, to be sure (added 
 my father proudly) that, come what may, we are not dis- 
 honored.' 
 
 " Humor him," whispered Squills ; " we will save the books." 
 Then he added aloud, as he laid finger and thumb on my 
 pulse : " One, two, three, about seventy capital pulse soft 
 and full he can bear the whole let us administer it."
 
 250 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 My father nodded : " Certainly. But, Pisistratus, we must 
 manage your dear mother. Why she should think of blaming 
 herself, because poor Jack took wrong ways to enrich us, I 
 cannot understand. But as I have had occasion before to 
 remark, Sphinx is a noun feminine." 
 
 My poor father ! that was a vain struggle for thy wonted 
 innocent humor. The lips quivered. 
 
 Then the story came out. It seems that, when it was 
 resolved to undertake the publication of the Literary Times, a 
 certain number of shareholders had been got together by the 
 indefatigable energies of Uncle Jack ; and in the deed of 
 association and partnership, my father's name figured con- 
 spicuously as the holder of a fourth of this joint property. If 
 in this my father had committed some imprudence, he had at 
 least done nothing that, according to the ordinary calculations 
 of a secluded student, could become ruinous. But, just at the 
 time when we were in the hurry of leaving town, Jack had 
 represented to my father that it might be necessary to alter a 
 little the plan of the paper ; and, in order to allure a larger 
 circle of readers, touch somewhat on the more vulgar news and 
 interests of the day. A change of plan might involve a change 
 of title ; and he suggested to my father the expediency of leav- 
 ing the smooth hands of Mr. Tibbets altogether unfettered, as 
 to the technical name and precise form of the publication. To 
 this my father had unwittingly assented, on hearing that the 
 other shareholders would do the same. Mr. Peck, a printer of 
 considerable opulence, and highly respectable name, had been 
 found to advance the sum necessary for the publication of the 
 earlier numbers, upon the guarantee of the said act of partner- 
 ship and the additional security of my father's signature to a 
 document, authorizing Mr. Tibbets to make any change in the 
 form or title of the periodical that might be judged advisable, 
 concurrent with the consent of the other shareholders. 
 
 Now it seems that Mr. Peck had, in his previous conferences 
 with Mr. Tibbets, thrown much cold water on the idea of the 
 Literary Times, and had suggested something that should 
 " catch the moneyed public " the fact being, as was after- 
 wards discovered, that the printer, whose spirit of enterprise 
 was congenial to Uncle Jack's, had shares in three or four 
 speculations, to which he was naturally glad of an opportunity 
 to invite the attention of the public. In a word, no sooner 
 was my poor father's back turned, than the Literary Times was 
 dropped incontinently, and Mr. Peck and Mr. Tibbets began 
 to concentrate their luminous notions into that brilliant and
 
 THE CAXTONS. 251 
 
 comet-like apparition which ultimately blazed forth under the 
 title of The Capitalist. 
 
 From this change of enterprise the more prudent and 
 responsible of the original shareholders had altogether with- 
 drawn. A majority, indeed, were left ; but the greater part 
 of those were shareholders of that kind most amenable to the 
 influences of Uncle Jack, and willing to be shareholders in 
 anything, since as yet they were possessors of nothing. 
 
 Assured of my father's responsibility, the adventurous Peck 
 put plenty of spirit into the first launch of The Capitalist. All 
 the walls were placarded with its announcements ; circular 
 advertisements ran from one end of the kingdom to the other. 
 Agents were engaged, correspondents levied en masse. The 
 invasion of Xerxes on the Greeks was not more munificently 
 provided for than that of The Capitalist upon the credulity and 
 avarice of mankind. 
 
 But as Providence bestows upon fishes the instrument of 
 fins, whereby they balance and direct their movements, how- 
 ever rapid and erratic, through the pathless deeps ; so to the 
 cold-blooded creatures of our own species, that may be classed 
 under the genus MONEY-MAKERS, the same protective power 
 accords the fin-like properties of prudence and caution, where- 
 with your true money-getter buoys and guides himself majes- 
 tically through the great seas of speculation. In short, the 
 fishes the net was cast for were all scared from the surface at 
 the first splash. They came round and smelt at the mesh 
 with their sharp bottle-noses, and then, plying those invaluable 
 fins, made off as fast as they could plunging into the mud, 
 hiding themselves under rocks and coral banks. Metaphor 
 apart, the capitalists buttoned up their pockets, and would 
 have nothing to say to their namesake. 
 
 Not a word of this change, so abhorrent to all the notions 
 of poor Augustine Caxton, had been breathed to him by Peck 
 or Tibbets. He ate, and slept, and worked at the Great Book, 
 occasionally wondering why he had not heard of the advent 
 of the Literary Times, unconscious of all the awful responsi- 
 bilities which The Capitalist was entailing on him knowing no 
 more of The Capitalist than he did of the last loan of the 
 Rothschilds. 
 
 Difficult was it for all other human nature, save my father's, 
 not to breathe an indignant anathema on the scheming head 
 of the brother-in-law who had thus violated the most sacred 
 obligations of trust and kindred, and so entangled an unsus- 
 pecting recluse. But, to give even Jack Tibbets his due, he
 
 252 THE CAXTON3. 
 
 had firmly convinced himself that The Capitalist would make 
 my father's fortune ; and if he did not announce to him the 
 strange and anomalous development into which the original 
 sleeping chrysalis of the Literary Times had taken portentous 
 wing, it was purely and wholly in the knowledge that my 
 father's " prejudices," as he termed them, would stand in the 
 way of his becoming a Croesus. And, in fact, Uncle Jack had 
 believed so heartily in his own project, that he had put himself 
 thoroughly into Mr. Peck's power, signed bills in his own 
 name to some fabulous amount, and was actually now in the 
 Fleet, whence his penitential and despairing confession was 
 dated, arriving simultaneously with a short letter from Mr. 
 Peck, wherein that respectable printer apprised my father that 
 he had continued, at his own risk, the publication of The 
 Capitalist, as far as a prudent care for his family would permit ; 
 that he need not say that a new daily journal was a very vast 
 experiment ; that the expense of such a paper as The Capitalist 
 was immeasurably greater than that of a mere literary peri- 
 odical, as originally suggested ; and that now, being con- 
 strained to come upon the shareholders for the sums he had 
 advanced, amounting to several thousands, he requested my 
 father to settle with him immediately delicately implying 
 that Mr. Caxton himself might settle as he could with the 
 other shareholders, most of whom, he grieved to add, he had 
 been misled by Mr. Tibbets into believing to be men of sub- 
 stance, when in reality they were men of straw. 
 
 Nor was this all the evil. The "Great Anti-Bookseller 
 Publishing Society," which had maintained a struggling exist- 
 ence, evinced by advertisements of sundry forthcoming works 
 of solid interest and enduring nature, wherein, out of a long 
 list, amidst a pompous array of " Poems "; " Dramas not 
 intended for the Stage "; Essays by Phileutheros, Philanthro- 
 pes, Philopolis, Philodemus, and Philalethes," stood prom- 
 inently forth, " The History of Human Error, Vols. I. and 
 II., quarto, with illustrations," the "Anti-Bookseller Soci- 
 ety," I say, that had hitherto evinced nascent and budding 
 life by these exfoliations from its slender stem, died of a sud- 
 den blight, the moment its sun, in the shape of Uncle Jack, 
 set in the Cimmerian regions of the Fleet ; and a polite letter 
 from another printer (O William Caxton, William Caxton ! 
 fatal progenitor ! ) informing my father of this event, stated 
 complimentarily that it was to him, "as the most respectable 
 member of the Association," that the said printer would be 
 compelled to look for expenses incurred, not only in the very
 
 THE CAXTONS. 253 
 
 costly edition of the " History of Human Error," but for those 
 incurred in the print and paper devoted to " Poems," 
 " Dramas not intended for the Stage," " Essays by Phileu- 
 theros, Philanthropes, Philopolis, Philodemus. and Philalethes," 
 with sundry other works, no doubt of a very valuable nature, 
 but in which a considerable loss, in a pecuniary point of view, 
 must be necessarily expected. 
 
 I own that, as soon as I had mastered the above agreeable 
 facts, and ascertained from Mr. Squills that my father really 
 did seem to have rendered himself legally liable to these 
 demands, I leant back in my chair, stunned and bewildered. 
 
 " So you see," said my father, " that as yet we are contend- 
 ing with monsters in the dark in the dark all monsters look 
 larger and uglier. Even Augustus Caesar, though certainly he 
 had never scrupled to make as many ghosts as suited his con- 
 venience, did not like the chance of a visit from them, and 
 never sat alone in tenebris. What the amount of the sums 
 claimed from me may be, we know not ; what may be gained 
 from the other shareholders is equally obscure and undefined. 
 But the first thing to do is to get poor Jack out of prison." 
 
 " Uncle Jack out of prison ! " exclaimed I : " surely, sir, 
 that is carrying forgiveness too far." 
 
 " Why, he would not have been in prison if I had not been 
 so blindly forgetful of his weakness, poor man ! I ought to 
 have known better. But my vanity misled me ; I must needs 
 publish a great book, as if (said Mr. Caxton, looking round 
 the shelves) there were not great books enough in the world ! 
 I must needs, too, think of advancing and circulating knowl- 
 edge in the form of a journal I, who had not knowledge 
 enough of the character of my own brother-in law to -keep 
 myself from ruin ! Come what will, I should think myself the 
 meanest of men to let that poor creature, whom I ought to have 
 considered as a monomaniac, rot in prison, because I, Austin 
 Caxton, wanted common-sense. And (concluded my father 
 resolutely) he is your mother's brother, Pisistratus. I should 
 have gone to town at once ; but, hearing that my wife had 
 written to you, I waited till I could leave her to the com- 
 panionship of hope and comfort two blessings that smile 
 upon every mother in the face of a son like you. To-morrow 
 I go." 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said Mr. Squills firmly ; " as your medi- 
 cal adviser, I forbid you to leave the house for the next six 
 days."
 
 254 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " SIR," continued Mr. Squills, biting off the end of a cigar 
 which he pulled from his pocket, " you concede to me that it 
 is a very important business on which you propose to go to 
 London." 
 
 " Of that there is no doubt," replied my father. 
 
 "And the doing of business well or ill entirely depends 
 upon the habit of body ! " cried Mr. Squills triumphantly. 
 " Do you know, Mr. Caxton, that while you are looking so 
 calm, and talking so quietly, just on purpose to sustain your 
 son and delude your wife do you know that your pulse, 
 which is naturally little more than sixty, is nearly a hundred ? 
 Do you know, sir, that your mucous membranes are in a state 
 of high irritation, apparent by \.\\z papilla at the tip of your 
 tongue ? And if, with a pulse like this, and a tongue like 
 that, you think of settling money matters with a set of sharp- 
 witted tradesmen, all I can say is, that you are a ruined man." 
 
 " But " began my father. 
 
 " Did not Squire Rollick," pursued Mr. Squills " Squire 
 Rollick, the hardest head at a bargain I know of did not 
 Squire Rollick sell that pretty little farm of his, Scranny Holt, 
 for thirty per cent, below its value ? And what was the cause, 
 sir? the whole county was in amaze ! what was the cause, 
 but an incipient, simmering attack of the yellow jaundice, 
 which made him take a gloomy view of human life, and the 
 agricultural interest ? On the other hand, did not Lawyer 
 Cool, the most prudent man in the three kingdoms Lawyer 
 Cool, who was so methodical, that all the clocks in the country 
 were set by his watch plunge one morning head over heels 
 into a frantic speculation for cultivating the bogs in Ireland 
 (his watch did not go right for the next three months, which 
 made our whole shire an hour in advance of the rest of En- 
 gland) ! And what was the cause of that nobody knew, till I 
 was called in, and found the cerebral membrane in a state of 
 acute irritation, probably just in the region of his acquisitive- 
 ness and ideality. No, Mr. Caxton, you will stay at home, 
 and take a soothing preparation I shall send you, of lettuce 
 leaves and marsh-mallows. But I," continued Squills, light- 
 ing his cigar, and taking two determined whiffs " but / will 
 go up to town and settle the business for you, and take with 
 me this young gentleman, whose digestive functions are just 
 in a state to deal safely with those horrible elements of dys- 
 pepsia the L. S. D."
 
 THE CAXTONS. 255 
 
 As he spoke, Mr. Squills set his foot significantly upon 
 mine. 
 
 " But," resumed my father mildly, " though I thank you 
 very much, Squills, for your kind offer, I do not recognize the 
 necessity of accepting it. I am not so bad a philosopher as 
 you seem to imagine ; and the blow I have received has not 
 so deranged my physical organization as to render me unfit to 
 transact my affar.rs." 
 
 " Hum ! " grunted Squills, starting up and seizing my 
 father's pulse ; " ninety-six ninety-six if a beat ! And the 
 tongue, sir ! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " quoth my father, "you have not even seen my 
 tongue ! " 
 
 " No need of that, I know what it is by the state of the eye- 
 lids tip scarlet, sides rough as a nutmeg-grater ! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " again said my father, this time impatiently. 
 
 " Well," said Squills solemnly, " it is my duty to say (here 
 my mother entered, to tell me that supper was ready), and I 
 say it to you, Mrs. Caxton, and to Mr. Pisistratus Caxton, as 
 the parties most nearly interested, that if you, sir, go to Lon- 
 don upon this matter, I'll not answer for the consequences." 
 
 "Oh ! Austin, Austin," cried my mother, running up and 
 throwing her arms round my father's neck ; while I, little less 
 alarmed by Squills's serious tone and aspect, represented 
 strongly the inutility of Mr. Caxton's personal interference at 
 the present moment. All he could do on arriving in town 
 would be to put the matter into the hands of a good lawyer, 
 and that we could do for him ; it would be time enough to 
 send for him when the extent of the mischief done was more 
 clearly ascertained. Meanwhile Squills griped my father's 
 pulse, and my mother hung on his neck. 
 
 " Ninety-six ninety-seven ! " groaned Squills in a hollow 
 voice. 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " cried my father, almost in a passion 
 " never better nor cooler in my life." 
 
 " And the tongue look at his tongue, Mrs. Caxton a 
 tongue, ma'am, so bright that you could see to read by it ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Austin, Austin ! " 
 
 " My dear, it is not my tongue that is in fault, I assure you," 
 said my father, speaking through his teeth ; " and the man 
 knows no more of my tongue than he does of the Mysteries 
 of Eleusis." 
 
 " Put it out then," exclaimed Squills, " and if it be not as I 
 say, you have my leave to go to London, and throw your
 
 256 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 whole fortune into the two great pits you have dug for it. 
 Put it out ! " 
 
 " Mr. Squills ! " said my father, coloring " Mr. Squills, for 
 shame ! " 
 
 " Dear, dear, Austin ! your hand is so hot you are feverish, 
 I am sure." 
 
 " Not a bit of it." 
 
 " But, sir, only just gratify Mr. Squills," said I coaxingly. 
 
 " There, there ! ' said my father, fairly baited into submis- 
 sion, and shyly exhibiting for a moment the extremest end of 
 the vanquished organ of eloquence. 
 
 Squills darted forward his lynx-like eyes. " Red as a lob- 
 ster, and rough as a gooseberry-bush ! " cried Squills, in a 
 tone of savage joy. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 How was it possible for one poor tongue, so reviled and 
 persecuted, so humbled, insulted, and triumphed over, to resist 
 three tongues in league against it? 
 
 Finally, my father yielded, and Squills, in high spirits, 
 declared that he would go to supper with me, to see that I ate 
 nothing that could tend to discredit his reliance on my system. 
 Leaving my mother still with her Austin, the good surgeon 
 then took my arm, and, as soon as we were in the next room, 
 shut the door carefully, wiped his forehead, and said : " I 
 think we have saved him !" 
 
 "Would it really, then, have injured my father so much?" 
 
 " So much ! Why, yoa foolish young man, don't you see 
 that, with his ignorance of business, where he himself is con- 
 cerned though, for any other one's business, neither Rollick 
 nor Cool has a better judgment and with his d d Quixotic 
 spirit of honor worked up into a state of excitement, he would 
 have rushed to Mr. Tibbets, and exclaimed : ' How much do 
 you owe ? There it is ! ' settled in the same way with these 
 printers, and come back without a sixpence ; whereas you and 
 I can look coolly about us, and reduce the inflammation to the 
 minimum ! " 
 
 "I see, and thank you heartily, Squills." 
 
 " Besides," said the surgeon, with more feeling, " your 
 father has really been making a noble effort over himself. 
 He suffers more than you would think not for himself (for I 
 do believe that, if he were alone in the world, he would be 
 quite contented if he could save fifty pounds a year and his
 
 THE CAXTONS. 257 
 
 books), but for your mother and yourself ; and a fresh access 
 of emotional excitement, all the nervous anxiety of a journey 
 to London on such a business, might have ended in a paralytic 
 or epileptic affection. Now we have him here snug ; and the 
 worst news we can give him will be better than what he will 
 make up his mind for. But you don't eat." 
 
 " Eat ! How can I ? My poor father ! " 
 
 " The effect of grief upon the gastric juices, through the 
 nervous system, is very remarkable," said Mr. Squills philo- 
 sophically, and helping himself to a broiled bone : " it 
 increases the thirst, while it takes away hunger. No don't 
 touch port ! heating ! Sherry and water." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE house-door had closed upon Mr. Squills that gentle- 
 man having promised to breakfast with me the next morning, 
 so that we might take the coach from our gate and I 
 remained alone, seated by the supper-table, and revolving all 
 I had heard, when my father walked in. 
 
 " Pisistratus," said he gravel}', and looking round him, 
 " your mother ! suppose the worst your first care, then, must 
 be to try and secure something for her. You and I are men 
 we can -never want, while we have health of mind and body ; 
 but a woman and if anything happens to me " 
 
 My father's lip writhed as it uttered these brief sentences. 
 
 " My dear, dear father ! " said I, suppressing my tears with 
 difficulty, " all evils, as you yourself said, look worse by antici- 
 pation. It is impossible that your whole fortune can be 
 involved. The newspaper did not run many weeks ; and only 
 the first volume of your work is printed. Besides, there must 
 be other shareholders who will pay their quota. Believe me, I 
 feel sanguine as to the result of my embassy. As for my poor 
 mother, it is not the loss of fortune that will wound her ; 
 depend on it, she thinks very little of that ; it is the loss of 
 your confidence." 
 
 " My confidence ! " 
 
 " Ah yes ! tell her all your fears, as your hopes. Do not 
 let your affectionate pity exclude her from one corner of your 
 heart." 
 
 " It is that it is that, Austin my husband my joy my 
 pride my soul my all ! " cried a soft, broken voice. * 
 
 My mother had crept in, unobserved by us. 
 
 My father looked at us both, and the tears which had before
 
 258 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 stood in his eyes forced their way. Then opening his arms 
 into which his Kitty threw herself joyfully he lifted those 
 moist eyes upward, and, by the movement of his lips, I saw 
 that he thanked God. 
 
 I stole out of the room. I felt that those two hearts should 
 be left to beat and to blend alone. And from that hour I am 
 convinced that Augustine Caxton acquired a stouter philosophy 
 than that of the stoics. The fortitude that concealed pain was 
 no longer needed, for the pain was no longer felt. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MR. SQUILLS and I performed our journey without adven- 
 ture, and, as we were not alone on the coach, with little con- 
 versation. We put up at a small inn at the city, and the next 
 morning I sallied forth to see Trevanion for we agreed that 
 he would be the best person to advise us. But, on arriving 
 at St. James's Square, I had the disappointment of hearing 
 that the whole family had gone to Paris three days before, and 
 were not expected to return till the meeting of Parliament. 
 
 This was a sad discouragement, for I had counted much 
 on Trevanion's clear head, and that extraordinary range of 
 accomplishment in all matters of business all that related to 
 practical life which my old patron pre-eminently possessed. 
 The next thing would be to find Trevanion's lawyer (for Tre- 
 vanion was one of those men whose solicitors are sure to be 
 able and active). But the fact was that he left so little to law- 
 yers, that he had never had occasion to communicate with one 
 since I had known him ; and I was therefore in ignorance of 
 the very name of his solicitor ; nor could the porter, who was 
 left in charge of the house, enlighten me. Luckily, I be- 
 thought myself of Sir Sedley Beaudesert, who could scarcely 
 fail to give me the information required, and who, at all 
 events, might recommend to me some other lawyer. So to 
 him I went. 
 
 I found Sir Sedley at breakfast with a young gentleman who 
 seemed about twenty. The good baronet was delighted to see 
 me ; but I thought it was with a little confusion, rare to his 
 cordial ease, that he presented me to his cousin, Lord Castle- 
 ton. It was a name familiar to me, though I had never before 
 met its patrician owner. 
 
 The Marquis of Castleton was indeed a subject of envy to 
 young idlers, and afforded a theme of interest to graybeard 
 politicians, Often had I heard, of " that lucky fellow Castle,'
 
 THE CAXTONS. 259 
 
 ton," who, when of age, would step into one of those colossal 
 fortunes which would realize the dreams of Aladdin a fortune 
 that had been out to nurse since his minority. Often had I 
 heard graver gossips wonder whether Castleton would take 
 any active part in public life whether he would keep up the 
 family influence. His mother (still alive) was a superior 
 woman, and had devoted herself, from his childhood, to supply 
 a father's loss, and fit him for his great position. It was said 
 that he was clever ; had been educated by a tutor of great 
 academic distinction, and was reading for a double first class at 
 Oxford. This young marquis was indeed the head of one of 
 those few houses still left in England that retain feudal im- 
 portance. He was important, not only from his rank and his 
 vast fortune, but from an immense circle of powerful connec- 
 tions ; from the ability of his two predecessors, who had been 
 keen politicians and cabinet ministers ; from the prestige they 
 had bequeathed to his name ; from the peculiar nature of his 
 property, which gave him the returning interest in no less than 
 six parliamentary seats in Great Britain and Ireland besides 
 the indirect ascendency which the head of the Castletons had 
 always exercised over many powerful and noble allies of that 
 princely house. I was not aware that he was related to Sir 
 Sedley, whose world of action was so remote from politics ; 
 and it was with some surprise that I now heard that announce- 
 ment, and certainly with some interest that I, perhaps from 
 the verge of poverty, gazed on this young heir of fabulous El 
 Dorados. 
 
 It was easy to see that Lord Castleton had been brought up 
 with a careful knowledge of his future greatness, and its serious 
 responsibilities. He stood immeasurably aloof from all the 
 affectations common to the youth of minor patricians. He 
 had not been taught to value himself on the cut of a coat, or 
 the shape of a hat. His world was far above St. James's 
 Street and the clubs. He was dressed plainly, though in a 
 style peculiar to himself a white neckcloth (which was not at 
 that day quite so uncommon for morning use as it is now), 
 trousers without straps, thin shoes and gaiters. In his manner 
 there was nothing of the supercilious apathy which character- 
 izes the dandy introduced to some one whom he doubts if he 
 can nod to from the bow-window at White's none of such 
 vulgar coxcombries had Lord Castleton ; and yet a young gen- 
 tleman more emphatically coxcomb it was impossible to see. 
 He had been told, no doubt, that, as the head of a house 
 which was almost in itself a party in the state, he should be
 
 260 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 bland and civil to all men ; and this duty being grafted upon 
 a nature singularly cold and unsocial, gave to his politeness 
 something so stiff, yet so condescending, that it brought the 
 blood to one's cheek, though the momentary anger was coun- 
 terbalanced by a sense of the almost ludicrous contrast between 
 this gracious majesty of deportment, and the insignificant 
 figure, with the boyish, beardless face, by which it was assumed. 
 Lord Castleton did not content himself with a mere bow at 
 our introduction. Much to my wonder how he came by the 
 information he displayed, he made me a little speech after the 
 manner of Louis XIV. to a provincial noble studiously 
 modelled upon that royal maxim of urbane policy which 
 instructs a king that he should know something of the birth, 
 parentage, and family of his meanest gentleman. It was a 
 little speech, in which my father's learning, and my uncle's 
 services, and the amiable qualities of your humble servant, 
 were neatly interwoven delivered in a falsetto tone, as if 
 learned by heart, though it must have been necessarily im- 
 promptu ; and then, reseating himself, he made a gracious 
 motion of the head and hand, as if to authorize me to do the 
 same. 
 
 Conversation succeeded, by galvanic jerks and spasmodic 
 starts a conversation that Lord Castleton contrived to tug 
 so completely out of poor Sir Sedley's ordinary course of 
 small and polished small-talk, that that charming personage, 
 accustomed, as he well deserved, to be Coryphaeus at his 
 own table, was completely silenced. With his light reading, 
 his rich stores of anecdote, his good-humored knowledge of 
 the drawing-room world, he had scarce a word that would 
 fit into the great, rough, serious matters which Lord Castleton 
 threw upon the table, as he nibbled his toast. Nothing but 
 the most grave and practical subjects of human interest seemed 
 to attract this future leader of mankind. The fact is that 
 Lord Castleton had been taught everything that relates to prop- 
 erty (a knowledge which embraces a very wide circumference). 
 It had been said to him : " You will be an immense proprie- 
 tor knowledge is essential to your self-preservation. You 
 wfil be puzzled, bubbled, ridiculed, duped every day of your 
 life, if you do not make yourself acquainted with all by which 
 property is assailed or defended, impoverished or increased. 
 You have a vast stake in the country ; you must learn all the 
 interests of Europe nay, of the civilized world for those 
 interests react on the country, and the interests of the country 
 arc of the greatest possible consequence to the interests of
 
 THE CAXTONS. 261 
 
 the Marquis of Castleton." Thus the state of the Continent ; 
 the policy of Metternich ; the condition of the Papacy ; the 
 growth of Dissent ; the proper mode of dealing with the gen- 
 eral spirit of Democracy, which was the epidemic of Euro- 
 pean monarchies ; the relative proportions of the agricultural 
 and manufacturing population corn-laws, currency, and the 
 laws that regulate wages ; a criticism on the leading speakers 
 of the House of Commons, with some discursive observations 
 on the importance of fattening cattle ; the introduction of 
 flax into Ireland ; emigration ; the condition of the poor ; the 
 doctrines of Mr. Owen ; the pathology of potatoes; the con- 
 nection between potatoes, pauperism, and patriotism ; these, 
 and such-like stupendous subjects for reflection all branch- 
 ing more or less intricately from the single idea of the Castle- 
 ton property the young lord discussed and disposed of in 
 half-a-dozen prim, poised sentences, evincing, I must say in 
 justice, no inconsiderable information, and a mighty solemn 
 turn of mind. The oddity was, that the subjects so selected 
 and treated should not come rather from some young barris- 
 ter, or mature political economist, than from so gorgeous a 
 lily of the field. Of a man less elevated in rank one would 
 certainly have said, "Cleverish, but a prig " ; but there really 
 was something so respectable in a personage born to such for- 
 tunes, and having nothing to do but to bask in the sunshine, 
 voluntarily taking such pains with himself, and condescend- 
 ing to identify his own interests the interests of the Castle- 
 ton property with the concerns of his lesser fellow-mortals, 
 that one felt the young marquis had in him the stuff to become 
 a very considerable man. 
 
 Poor Sir Sedley, to whom all these matters were as un- 
 familiar as the theology of the Talmud, after some vain efforts 
 to slide the conversation into easier grooves, fairly gave in, 
 and, with a compassionate smile on his handsome countenance, 
 took refuge in his easy-chair and the contemplation of his 
 snuff-box. 
 
 At last, to our great relief, the servant announced Lord 
 Castleton's carriage ; and with another speech of overpower- 
 ing affability to me, and a cold shake of the hand to Sir 
 Sedley, Lord Castleton went his way. 
 
 The breakfast parlor looked on the street, and I turned 
 mechanically to the window as Sir Sedley followed his guest 
 out of the room. A travelling carriage, with four post-horses, 
 was at the door ; and a servant, who looked like a foreigner, 
 was in waiting with his master's cloak. As I saw Lord Castle-
 
 262 THE OAXTONS. 
 
 ton step into the street, and wrap himself in his costly mantle 
 lined with sables, I observed, more than I had while he was in 
 the room, the enervate slightness of his frail form, and the 
 more than paleness of his thin, joyless face ; and then, instead 
 of envy, I felt compassion for the owner of all this pomp and 
 grandeur felt that I would not have exchanged my hardy 
 health, and easy humor, and vivid capacities of enjoyment in 
 things the slightest and most within the reach of all men, for 
 the wealth and greatness which that poor youth perhaps 
 deserved the more for putting them so little to the service of 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Well," said Sir Sedley, "and what do you think of him ! " 
 
 " He is just the sort of man Trevanion would like," said I 
 evasively. 
 
 " That is true," answered Sir Sedley, in a serious tone of 
 voice, and looking at me somewhat earnestly. " Have you 
 heard ? but no, you cannot have heard yet." 
 
 "Heard what?" 
 
 " My dear young friend," said the kindest and most delicate 
 of all fine gentlemen, sauntering away that he might not 
 observe the emotion he caused, " Lord Castleton is going to 
 Paris to join the Trevanions. The object Lady Ellinor has 
 had at heart for many a long year is won, and our pretty 
 Fanny will be Marchioness of Castleton when her betrothed is 
 of age that is, in six months. The two mothers have settled 
 it all between them ! " 
 
 I made no answer, but continued to look out of the window. 
 
 "This alliance," resumed Sir Sedley, "was all that was 
 wanting to assure Trevanion's position. When Parliament 
 meets, he will have some great office. Poor man ! how I shall 
 pity him ! It is extraordinary to me," continued Sir Sedley, 
 benevolently going on, that I might have full time to recover 
 myself, " how contagious that disease called ' business ' is in 
 our foggy England ! Not only Trevanion, you see, has the 
 complaint in its very worst and most complicated form, but 
 that poor dear cousin of mine, who is so young (here Sir Sed- 
 ley sighed), and might enjoy himself so much, is worse than 
 you were when Trevanion was fagging you to death. But, to 
 be sure, a great name and position, like Castleton's, must be 
 a very heavy affliction to a conscientious mind. You see how 
 the sense of its responsibilities has aged him already positively, 
 two great wrinkles under his eyes. Well, after all, I admire 
 him and respect his tutor : a soil naturally very thin, I suspect, 
 has been most carefully cultivated ; and Castleton, with Tre-
 
 THE CAXTONis. 263 
 
 ranion's help, will be the first man in the peerage prime 
 minister some day, I dare say. And when I think of it, how 
 grateful I ought to feel to his father and mother, who pro. 
 duced him quite in their old age ; for, if he had not been born, 
 I should have been the most miserable of men yes, positively, 
 that horrible marquisate would have come to me ! I never 
 think over Horace Walpole's regrets, when he got the earl- 
 dom of Orford, without the deepest sympathy, and without a 
 shudder at the thought of what my dear Lady Castleton was 
 kind enough to save me from all owing to the Ems waters, 
 after twenty years' marriage ! Well, my young friend, and 
 how are all at home ?" 
 
 As when, some notable performer not having yet arrived 
 behind the scenes, or having to change his dress, or not hav- 
 ing yet quite recovered an unlucky extra tumbler of exciting 
 fluids and the green curtain has therefore unduly delayed its 
 ascent you perceive that the thorough-bass in the orchestra 
 charitably devotes himself to a prelude of astonishing prolixity 
 calling in Lodoiska or Der Freischutz to beguile the time, and 
 allow the procrastinating histrio leisure sufficient to draw on 
 his flesh-colored pantaloons, and give himself the proper com- 
 plexion for a Coriolanus or Macbeth even so had Sir Sedley 
 made that long speech, requiring no rejoinder, till he saw the 
 time had arrived when he could artfully close with the flourish 
 of a final interrogative, in order to give poor Pisistratus Cax- 
 ton all preparation to compose himself and step forward. 
 There is certainly somethingof exquisite kindness, and thought- 
 ful benevolence, in that rarest of gifts, fine breeding; and 
 when now, remanned and resolute, I turned round and saw Sir 
 Sedley's soft blue eye shyly, but benignantly, turned to me, 
 while, with a grace no other snuff-taker ever had since the 
 days of Pope, he gently proceeded to refresh himself by a 
 pinch of the celebrated Beaudesert mixture, I felt my heart as 
 gratefully moved towards him as if he had conferred on me 
 some colossal obligation. And this crowning question : " And 
 how are all at home ? " restored me entirely to my self-pos- 
 session, and for the moment distracted the bitter current of 
 my thoughts. 
 
 I replied by a brief statement of my father's involvement, 
 disguising our apprehensions as to its extent, speaking of it 
 rather as an annoyance than a possible cause of ruin, and 
 ended by asking Sir Sedley to give me the address of Tre- 
 vanion's lawyer. 
 
 The good baronet listened with great attention ; and that
 
 264 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 quick penetration which belongs to a man of the world enabled 
 him to detect, that 1 had smoothed over matters more than 
 became a faithful narrator. 
 
 He shook his head, and, seating himself on the sofa, mo- 
 tioned me to come to his side ; then, leaning his arm over my 
 shoulder, he said in his seductive, winning way : 
 
 " We two young fellows should understand each other when 
 we talk of money matters. I can say to you what I could not 
 say to my respectable senior by three years ; your excellent 
 father. Frankly, then, I suspect this is a bad business. I 
 know little about newspapers, except that I have to subscribe 
 to one in my county, which costs me a small income ; but I 
 know that a London daily paper might ruin a man in a few 
 weeks. And as for shareholders, my dear Caxton, I was once 
 teased into being a shareholder in a canal that ran through 
 my property, and ultimately ran off with ^30,000 of it ! The 
 other shareholders were all drowned in the canal, like Pharaoh 
 and his host in the Red Sea. But your father is a great 
 scholar, and must not be plagued with such matters. I owe 
 him a great deal. He was very kind to me at Cambridge, and 
 gave me the taste for reading to which I owe the pleasantest 
 hours of my life. So, when you and the lawyers have found 
 out what the extent of the mischief is, you and I must see 
 how we can best settle it. What the deuce ! my young friend, 
 I have no ' encumbrances,' as the servants, with great want of 
 politeness, call wives and children. And lam not a miserable 
 great landed millionnaire, like that poor dear Castleton, who 
 owes so many duties to society fhat he can't spend a shilling, 
 except in a grand way, and purely to benefit the public. So 
 go, my boy, to Trevanion's lawyer : he is mine too. Clever 
 fellow sharp as a needle, Mr. Pike, in Great Ormond Street 
 name on a brass plate ; and when he has settled the amount, 
 we young scapegraces will help each other, without a word to 
 the old folks." 
 
 What good it does to a man, throughout life, to meet kind- 
 ness and generosity like this in his youth ! 
 
 I need not say that I was too faithful a representative of 
 my father's scholarly pride, and susceptible independence of 
 spirit, to accept this proposal ; and probably Sir Sedley, rich 
 and liberal as he was, did not dream of the extent to which 
 his proposal might involve him. But I expressed my grati- 
 tude so as to please and move this last relic of the De Cover- 
 leys, and went from his house straight to Mr. Pike's office, 
 with a little note of introduction from Sir Sedley. I found
 
 THE CAXTONS. 265 
 
 Mr. Pike exactly the man I had anticipated from Trevanion's 
 character short, quick, intelligent, in question and answer ; 
 imposing, and somewhat domineering, in manner ; not over- 
 crowded with business, but with enough for experience and 
 respectability ; neither young nor old ; neither a pedantic 
 machine of parchment, nor a jaunty, off-hand coxcomb of 
 West End manners. 
 
 " It is an ugly affair," said he, " but one that requires man- 
 agement. Leave it all in my hands for three days. Don't go 
 near Mr. Tibbets, nor Mr. Peck : and on Saturday next, at 
 two o'clock, if you will call here, you shall know my opinion 
 of the whole matter." With that Mr. Pike glanced at the 
 clock, and I took up my hat and went. 
 
 There is no place more delightful than a great capital, if 
 you are comfortably settled in it have arranged the method- 
 ical disposal of your time, and know how to take business and 
 pleasure in due proportions. But a flying visit to a great 
 capital, in an unsettled, unsatisfactory way at an inn an inn 
 in the City, too with a great worrying load of business on 
 your mind, of which you are to hear no more for three days ; 
 and an aching, jealous, miserable sorrow at the heart, such as 
 I had leaving you no labor to pursue, and no pleasure that 
 you have the heart to share in oh, a great capital then is 
 indeed forlorn, wearisome, and oppressive ! It is the Castle 
 of Indolence, not as Thomson built it, but as Beckford drew 
 in his Hall of Eblis a wandering up and down, to and fro ; 
 a great, awful space with your hand pressed to your heart ; 
 and oh for a rush on some half-tamed horse, through the 
 measureless green wastes of Australia! That is the place for 
 a man who has no home in the Babel, and whose hand is ever 
 pressing to his heart, with its dull, burning pain. 
 
 Mr. Squills decoyed me the second evening into one of the 
 small theatres ; and very heartily did Mr. Squills enjoy all he 
 saw, and all he heard. And while, with a convulsive effort of the 
 jaws, I was trying to laugh, too. suddenly in one of the actors, 
 who was performing the worshipful part of a parish beadle, 
 I recognized a face that I had seen before. Five minutes 
 afterwards I had disappeared from the side of Squills, and was 
 amidst that strange world BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 My beadle was much too busy and important to allow me a 
 good opportunity to accost him, till the piece was over. I 
 then seized hold of him, as he was amicably sharing a pot of 
 porter with a gentleman in black shorts and a laced waistcoat, 
 who was to play the part of a broken-hearted father in the
 
 266 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Domestic Drama in Three Acts, that would conclude the 
 amusements of the evening. 
 
 " Excuse me," said I apologetically ; " but as the Swan per- 
 tinently observes : 'Should auld acquaintance be forgot'?" 
 
 "The Swan, sir," cried the beadle aghast " the Swan never 
 demeaned himself by such d d broad Scotch as that ! " 
 
 " The Tweed has its swans as well as the Avon, Mr. Pea- 
 cock." 
 
 " St st hush hush h-u-s-h ! " whispered the beadle in 
 great alarm, and eyeing me, with savage observation, under 
 his corked eyebrows. Then, taking me by the arm, he jerked 
 me away. When he had got as far as the narrow limits of that 
 little stage would allow, Mr. Peacock said : 
 
 " Sir, you have the advantage of me ; I don't remember 
 you. Ah ! you need not look ! by gad, sir, I am not to be 
 bullied, it was all fair play. If you will play with gentlemen, 
 sir, you must run the consequences." 
 
 I hastened to appease the worthy man. 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Peacock, if you remember, I refused to play 
 with you ; and, so far from wishing to offend you, I now come on 
 purpose to compliment you on your excellent acting, and to 
 inquire if you have heard anything lately of your young friend 
 Mr. Vivian." 
 
 " Vivian ? never heard the name, sir. Vivian J Pooh, you 
 are trying to hoax me ; very good ! " 
 
 " I assure you, Mr. Peac " 
 
 " St st How the deuce did you know that I was once 
 called Peac that is people called me Peac A friendly nick- 
 name, no more drop it, sir, or you ' touch me with noble 
 anger ' ! " 
 
 " Well, well ; ' the rose by any name will smell as sweet,' as 
 the Swan, this time at least judiciously, observes. But, Mr. 
 Vivian, too, seems to have other names at his disposal. I 
 mean a young, dark, handsome man or rather boy with 
 whom I met you in company by the roadside, one morning." 
 
 " O-h," said Mr. Peacock, looking much relieved, " I know 
 whom you mean, though I don't remember to have had the 
 pleasure of seeing you before. No ; I have not heard any- 
 thing of the young man lately. I wish I did know something 
 of him. He was a ' gentleman in my own way.' Sweet Will 
 has hit him off to a hair ! 
 
 ' The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword.' 
 
 Such a hand with a cue ! you should have seen him seek the
 
 THE CAXTONS. 267 
 
 ' bubble reputation at the cannon 's mouth.' I may say," con- 
 tinued Mr. Peacock emphatically, " that he was a regular 
 trump trump ! " he reiterated with a start, as if the word had 
 stung him " trump ! he was a BRICK ! " 
 
 Then fixing his eyes on me, dropping his arms, interlacing 
 his fingers, in the manner recorded of Talma in the celebrated 
 " Qu'en dis-tu ? " he resumed in a hollow voice, slow and dis- 
 tinct : 
 
 " When saw you him, young m-m-a-n-nnn ? " 
 Finding the tables thus turned on myself, and not willing to 
 give Mr. Peac any clue to poor Vivian (who thus appeared, 
 to my great satisfaction, to have finally dropped an acquaint- 
 ance more versatile than reputable), I contrived, by a few 
 evasive sentences, to keep Mr. Peac 's curiosity at a distance, 
 tili he was summoned in haste to change his attire for the 
 domestic drama. And so we parted. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I HATE law details as cordially as my readers can, and there- 
 fore I shall content myself with stating that Mr. Pike's 
 management, at the end, not of three days, but of two weeks, 
 was so admirable, that Uncle Jack was drawn out of prison, 
 and my father extracted from all his liabilities, by a sum two- 
 thirds less than was first startlingly submitted to our indignant 
 horror ; and that, too, in a manner that would have satisfied 
 the conscience of the most punctilious formalist, whose contri- 
 bution to the national fund, for an omitted payment to the 
 Income Tax, the Chancellor of the Exchequer ever had the 
 honor to acknowledge. Still the sum was very large in pro- 
 portion to my poor father's income ; and what with Jack's 
 debts, the claims of the Anti-Publisher Society's printer 
 including the very expensive plates that had been so lavishly 
 bespoken, and in great part completed, for the " History of 
 Human Error " and, above all, the liabilities incurred on The 
 Capitalist j what with the plant, as Mr. Peck technically phrased 
 a great upas-tree of a total, branching out into types, cases, 
 printing-presses, engines, etc., all now to be resold at a third 
 of their value ; what with advertisements and bills, that had 
 covered all the dead walls by which rubbish might be shot, 
 throughout the three kingdoms ; what with the dues of report- 
 ers, and salaries of writers, who had been engaged for a year 
 at least to The Capitalist, and whose claims survived the 
 wretch they had killed and buried ; what, in short, with all
 
 *68 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 that the combined ingenuity of Uncle Jack and Printer Peck 
 could supply for the utter ruin of the Caxton family even 
 after all 'deductions, curtailments, and after all that one could 
 extract in the way of just contribution from the least unsub- 
 stantial of those shadows called the shareholders my father's 
 fortune was reduced to a sum of between seven and eight 
 thousand pounds, which being placed at mortgage at 4 per 
 cent., yielded just ^372 IDS. a year enough for my father to 
 live upon, but not enough to afford also his son Pisistratus the 
 advantages of education at Trinity College, Cambridge. The 
 blow fell rather upon me than my father, and my young 
 shoulders bore it without much wincing. 
 
 This settled, to our universal satisfaction, I went to pay my 
 farewell visit to Sir Sedley Beaudesert. He had made much 
 of me, during my stay in London. I had breakfasted and 
 dined with him pretty often ; I had presented Squills to him, 
 who no sooner set eyes upon that splendid conformation, than 
 he described his character with the nicest accuracy, as the 
 necessary consequence of such a development for the rosy 
 pleasures of life. We had never once retouched on the sub- 
 ject of Fanny's marriage, and both of us tacitly avoided even 
 mentioning the Trevanions. But in this last visit, though he 
 maintained the same reserve as to Fanny, he referred without 
 scruple to her father. 
 
 " Well, my young Athenian," said he, after congratulating 
 me on the result of the negotiations, and endeavoring again in 
 vain to bear at least some share in my father's losses ; " well, 
 I see I cannot press this farther ; but at least I can press on 
 you any little interest I may have, in obtaining some appoint- 
 ment for yourself in one of the public offices. Trevanion 
 could of course be more useful, but I can understand that he 
 is not the kind of man you would like to apply to." 
 
 " Shall I own to you, my dear Sir Sedley, that I have no 
 taste for official employment ? I am too fond of my liberty. 
 Since I have been at my uncle's old Tower, I account for half 
 my character by the Borderer's blood that is in me. I doubt 
 if I am meant for the life of cities ; and I have odd floating 
 notions in my head, that will serve to amuse me when I get 
 home, and may settle into schemes. And now to change the 
 subject, may I ask what kind of person has succeeded me as 
 Mr. Trevanion's secretary ? " 
 
 " Why, he has got a broad-shouldered, stooping fellow, in 
 spectacles and cotton stockings, who has written upon ' Rent,' 
 I believe an imaginative treatise in his case, I fear, for rent
 
 CAXTONS. 269 
 
 Is a thing he could never have received, and not often been 
 trusted to pay. However, he is one of your political econo- 
 mists, and wants Trevanion to sell his pictures, as ' unproduc- 
 tive capital.' Less mild than Pope's Narcissa, ' to make a 
 wash,' he would certainly ' stew a child." Besides this official 
 secretary, Trevanion trusts, however, a good deal to a clever, 
 good-looking young gentleman, who is a great favorite with 
 him." 
 
 " What is his name ? " 
 
 " His name ? oh, Gower ; a natural son, I believe, of one of 
 the Gower family." 
 
 Here two of Sir Sedley's fellow fine gentlemen lounged in, 
 and my visit ended. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " I SWEAR," cried my uncle, " that it shall be so." And 
 with a big frown, and a truculent air, he seized the fatal instru- 
 ment. 
 
 " Indeed, brother, it must not," said my father, laying one 
 pale, scholar-like hand mildly on Captain Roland's brown, belli- 
 cose, and bony fist ; and with the other, outstretched, protect- 
 ing the menaced, palpitating victim. 
 
 Not a word had my uncle heard of our losses, until they had 
 been adjusted, and the sum paid ; for we all knew that the 
 old Tower would have been gone sold to some neighboring 
 squire or jobbing attorney at the first impetuous impulse of 
 Uncle Roland's affectionate generosity. Austin endangered ! 
 Austin ruined ! he would never have rested till he came, cash 
 in hand, to his deliverance. Therefore. I say, not till all was 
 settled did I write to the Captain, and tell him gayly what had 
 chanced. And, however light I made of our misfortunes, the 
 letter brought the Captain to the red brick house the same 
 evening on which I myself reached it, and about an hour later. 
 My uncle had not sold the Tower, but he came prepared to 
 carry us off to it vi etarmis. We must live with him, and on 
 him ; let or sell the brick house, and put out the remnant of 
 my father's income to nurse and accumulate. And it was on 
 finding my father's resistance stubborn, and that hitherto he 
 had made no way, that my uncle, stepping back into the hall, 
 in which he had left his carpet-bag, etc., returned with an old 
 oak case, and, touching a spring roller, out flew the Caxton 
 pedigree. 
 
 Out it flew covering all the table, and undulating, Nile-like,
 
 4"jO THK CAXTONS. 
 
 till it had spread over books, papers, my mother's work-box, 
 and the tea-service (for the table was large and compendious, 
 emblematic of its owner's mind), and then, flowing on the car- 
 pet, dragged its slow length along, till it was stopped by the 
 fender. 
 
 " Now," said my uncle solemnly, " there never have been 
 but two causes of difference between you and me, Austin. 
 One is over ; why should the other last ? Aha ! I know why 
 you hang back ; you think we may quarrel about it ! " 
 
 " About what, Roland ? " 
 
 " About it, I say and I'll be d d if we do ! " cried my 
 uncle, reddening. "And I have been thinking a great deal 
 upon the matter, and I have no doubt you are right. So I 
 brought the old parchment with me, and you shall see me fill 
 up the blank, just as you would have it. Now, then, you will 
 come and live with me, and we can never quarrel any more." 
 
 Thus saying, Uncle Roland looked round for pen and ink ; 
 and, having found them not without difficulty, for they had 
 been submerged under the overflow of the pedigree he was 
 about to fill up the lacuna, or hiatus, which had given rise to 
 such memorable controversy, with the name of " William Cax- 
 ton, printer in the Sanctuary," when my father, slowly recover- 
 ing his breath, and aware of his brother's purpose, intervened. 
 It would have done your heart good to hear them so com- 
 pletely, in the inconsistency of human nature, had they changed 
 sides upon the question my father now all for Sir William de 
 Caxton, the hero of Bosworth ; my uncle all for the immor- 
 tal printer. And in this discussion they grew animated : their 
 eyes sparkled, their voices rose Roland's voice deep and 
 thunderous, Austin's sharp and piercing. Mr. Squills stopped 
 his ears. Thus it arrived at that point, when my uncle 
 doggedly came to the end of all argumentation : " I swear 
 that it shall be so "; and my father, trying the last resource 
 of pathos, looked pleadingly into Roland's eyes, and said, with 
 a tone soft as mercy : " Indeed, brother, it must not." Mean- 
 while the dry parchment crisped, creaked, and trembled in 
 every pore of its yellow skin. 
 
 " But," said I, coming in opportunely, like the Horatian deity, 
 " I don't see that either of you gentlemen has a right so to 
 dispose of my ancestry. It is quite clear that a man has no 
 possession in posterity. Posterity may possess him ; but 
 deuce a bit will he ever be the better for his great-great-grand- 
 children ! " 
 
 SQUILLS. Hear, hear !
 
 THE CAXTONS. 271 
 
 PISISTRATUS (warming). But a man's ancestry is a positive 
 property to him. How much, not only of acres, but of his con- 
 stitution, his temper, his conduct, character, and nature, he 
 may inherit from some progenitor ten times removed ! Nay, 
 without that progenitor would he ever have been born would 
 a Squills ever have introduced him into the world, or a nurse 
 ever have carried him upo kolpo ? 
 
 SQUILLS. Hear, hear ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS (with dignified emotion). No man, therefore, 
 has a right to rob another of a forefather, with a stroke of his 
 pen, from any motives, howsoever amiable. In the present 
 instance, you will say, perhaps, that the ancestor in question is 
 apocryphal it may be the printer, it may be the knight. 
 Granted ; but here, where history is in fault, shall a mere 
 sentiment decide ? While both are doubtful, my imagination 
 appropriates both. At one time I can reverence industry and 
 learning in the printer ; at another, valor and devotion in the 
 knight. This kindly doubt gives me two great forefathers ; 
 and, through them, two trains of idea that influence my con- 
 duct under different circumstances. I will not permit you, 
 Captain Roland, to rob me of either forefather, either train of 
 idea. Leave, then, this sacred void unfilled, unprofaned ; and 
 accept this compromise of chivalrous courtesy while my 
 father lives with the Captain, we will believe in the printer ; 
 when away from the Captain, we will stand firm to the knight. 
 
 " Good ! " cried "Uncle Roland, as I paused, a little out of 
 breath. 
 
 " And," said my mother softly, " I do think, Austin, there is 
 a way of settling the matter which will please all parties. It is 
 quite sad to think that poor Roland, and dear little Blanche, 
 should be all alone in the Tower ; and I am sure that we 
 should be much happier all together." 
 
 " There ! " cried Roland triumphantly. " If you are not 
 the most obstinate, hard hearted, unfeeling brute in the world 
 which I don't take you to be, Brother Austin, after that really 
 beautiful speech of your wife's, there is not a word to be said 
 further." 
 
 " But we have not yet heard Kitty to the end, Roland." 
 
 " I beg your pardon a thousand times, ma'am sister," said 
 the Captain, bowing. 
 
 " Well, I was going to add," said my mother, " that we will 
 go and live with you, Roland, and club our little fortunes 
 together. Blanche and I will take care of the house, and we 
 shall be just twice as rich together as we are separately."
 
 272 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Pretty sort of hospitality that ! " grunted the Captain. " I 
 did not expect you to throw me over in that way. No, no 
 you must lay by for the boy there what's to become of him? " 
 
 " But we shall all lay by for him," said my mother simply ; 
 " you as well as Austin. We shall have more to save, if we 
 have more to spend." 
 
 "Ah, save ! that is easily said : there would be a pleasure 
 in saving, then," said the Captain mournfully. 
 
 "And what's to become of me ?" cried Squills, very petu- 
 lantly. " Am I to be left here in my old age not a rational 
 soul to speak to, and no other place in the village where 
 there's a drop of decent punch to be had ! ' A plague on both 
 your houses ! ' as the chap said at the theatre the other night." 
 
 " There's room for a doctor in our neighborhood, Mr. 
 Squills," said the Captain. " The gentleman in your profes- 
 sion who does for us wants, I know, to sell the business." 
 
 " Humph," said Squills " a horribly healthy neighborhood, 
 I suspect ! " 
 
 "Why, it has that misfortune, Mr. Squills ; but with your 
 help," said my uncle slyly, " a great alteration for the better 
 may be effected in that respect." 
 
 Mr. Squills was about to reply, when ring a-ting ring 
 ting ! there came such a brisk, impatient, make-one's-self-at- 
 home kind of tintinnabular alarum at the great gate, that we 
 all started up and looked at each other in surprise. Who 
 could it possibly be ? We were not kept long in suspense ; 
 for in another moment, Uncle Jack's voice, which was always 
 very clear and distinct, pealed through the hall ; and we were 
 still staring at each other when Mr. Tibbets, with a brand-new 
 muffler round his neck, and a peculiarly comfortable great- 
 coat best double Saxony, equally new dashed into the room, 
 bringing with him a very considerable quantity of cold air, 
 which he hastened to thaw, first in my father's arms, next in 
 my mother's. He then made a rush at the Captain, who en- 
 sconced himself behind the dumb waiter with a " Hem ! Mr. 
 sir Jack sir hem, hem ! " - Failing there, Mr. Tibbets 
 rubbed off the remaining frost upon his double Saxony against 
 your humble servant ; patted Squills affectionately on the 
 back, and then proceeded to occupy his favorite position be- 
 fore the fire." 
 
 " Took you by surprise, eh ? " said Uncle Jack, unpeeling 
 himself by the hearth-rug. " But no not by surprise ; you 
 must have known Jack's heart : you at least, Austin Caxton, 
 who know everything you must have seen that it overflowed
 
 THE CAXTONS. 273 
 
 with the tenderest and most brotherly emotions ; that once 
 delivered from that cursed Fleet (you have no idea what a 
 place it is, sir), I could not rest, night or day, till I had flown 
 here here, to the dear family nest poor wounded dove that 
 I am ! " added Uncle Jack pathetically, and taking out his 
 pocket-handkerchief from the double Saxony, which he had 
 now flung over my father's arm-chair. 
 
 Not a word replied to this eloquent address, with its touch- 
 ing peroration. My mother hung down her pretty head, and 
 looked ashamed. My uncle retreated quite into the corner, 
 and drew the dumb waiter after him, so as to establish a com- 
 plete fortification. Mr. Squills seized the pen that Roland had 
 thrown down, and began mending it furiously that is, cutting 
 it into slivers thereby denoting, symbolically, how he would 
 like to do with Uncle Jack, could he once get him safe and 
 snug under his manipular operations. I bent over the pedi- 
 gree, and my father rubbed his spectacles. 
 
 The silence would have been appalling to another man : 
 nothing appalled Uncle Jack. 
 
 Uncle Jack turned to the fire, and warmed first one foot, 
 then the other. This comfortable ceremony performed, he 
 again faced the company, and resumed, musingly, and as if 
 answering some imaginary observations : 
 
 " Yes, yes you are right there ; and a deuced unlucky 
 speculation it proved too. But I was overruled by that fellow 
 Peck. Says 1 to him, says I : ' Capitalist ! pshaw no popu- 
 lar interest there it don't address the great public ! Very 
 confined class the capitalists ; better throw ourselves boldly 
 on the people. Yes,' said I, ' call it the ^////-Capitalist.' By 
 Jove ! sir, we should have carried all before us ! but I was 
 overruled. The Anti-Capitalist! what an idea! Address 
 the whole reading world there, sir : everybody hates the capi- 
 talist everybody would have his neighbor's money. The 
 Anti-Capitalist / sir, we should have gone off, in the manu- 
 facturing towns, like wildfire. But what could I do ? 
 
 " John Tibbets," said my father solemnly, " Capitalist or 
 Anti-Capitalist, thou hadst a right to follow thine own bent in 
 either but always provided it had been with thine own money. 
 Thou seest not the thing, John Tibbets, in the right point of 
 view ; and a little repentance in the face of those thou hast 
 wronged, would not have misbecome thy father's son, and thy 
 sister's brother ! " 
 
 Never had so severe a rebuke issued from the mild lips of 
 Austin Caxton ; and I raised my eyes with a compassionate
 
 274 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 thrill, expecting to see John Tibbets gradually sink and dis- 
 appear through the carpet. 
 
 " Repentance ! " cried Uncle Jack, bounding up, as if he 
 had been shot. " And do you think I have a heart of stone, 
 of pummystone ! Do you think I don't repent ? I have done 
 nothing but repent I shall repent to my dying day." 
 
 " Then there is no more to be said, Jack," cried my father, 
 softening, and holding out his hand. 
 
 " Yes ! " cried Mr. Tibbets, seizing the hand, and pressing 
 it to the heart he had thus defended from the suspicion of 
 being pummy " yes that I should have trusted that dunder- 
 headed, rascally, curmudgeon Peck : that I should have let 
 him call it The Capitalist, despite all my convictions, when the 
 Anti " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " interrupted my father, drawing away his hand. 
 
 "John," said my mother gravely, and with tears in her voice, 
 " you forget who delivered you from prison you forget whom 
 you have nearly consigned to prison yourself you forg " 
 
 " Hush, hush," said my father, " this will never do ; and it 
 is you who forget, my dear, the obligations I owe to Jack. 
 He has reduced my fortune one-half, it is true ; but I verily 
 think he has made the three hearts, in which lie my real treas- 
 ures, twice as large as they were before. Pisistratus, my boy, 
 ring the bell." 
 
 " My dear Kitty," cried Jack whimperingly, and stealing up 
 to my mother, " don't be so hard on me ; I thought to make 
 all your fortunes I did, indeed." 
 
 Here the servant entered. 
 
 " See that Mr. Tibbets's things are taken up to his room, and 
 that there is a good fire," said my father. 
 
 " And," continued Jack loftily, " I will make all your for- 
 tunes yet. I have it here ! " and he struck his head. 
 
 " Stay a moment ! " said my father to the servant, who had 
 got back to the door. " Stay a moment," said my father, 
 looking extremely frightened ; " perhaps Mr. Tibbets may 
 prefer the inn ! " 
 
 " Austin," said Uncle Jack, with emotion, " if I were a dog, 
 with no home but a dog-kennel, and you came to me for shel- 
 ter, I would turn out to give you the best of the straw ! " 
 
 My father was thoroughly melted this time. 
 
 " Primmins will be sure to see everything is made comfort- 
 able for Mr. Tibbets," said he, waving his hand to the servant. 
 " Something nice for supper, Kitty, my dear and the largest 
 punch-bowl. You like punch, Jack ? "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 275 
 
 " Punch, Austin ! " said Uncle Jack, putting his handker- 
 chief to his eyes. 
 
 The Captain pushed aside the dumb waiter, strode across 
 the room, and shook hands with Uncle Jack ; my mother 
 buried her face in her apron, and fairly ran off ; and Squills 
 said in my ear : " It all comes of the biliary secretions. No- 
 body could account for this, who did not know the peculiarly 
 fine organization of your father's liver ! " 
 
 PART TWELFTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE Hegira is completed ; we have all taken roost in the 
 old Tower. My father's books have arrived by the wagon, 
 and have settled themselves quietly in their new abode filling 
 up the apartment dedicated to their owner, including the bed- 
 chamber and two lobbies. The duck also has arrived, under 
 wing of Mrs. Primmins, and has reconciled herself to the old 
 stew-pond ; by the side of which my father has found a walk 
 that compensates for the peach wall especially as he has 
 made acquaintance with sundry respectable carps, who permit 
 him to feed them after he has fed the duck a privilege of which 
 (since, if any one else approaches, the carps are off in an 
 instant) my father is naturally vain. All privileges are valu- 
 able in proportion to the exclusiveness of their enjoyment. 
 
 Now, from the moment the first carp had eaten the bread 
 my father threw to it, Mr. Caxton had mentally resolved, that 
 a race so confiding should never be sacrificed to Ceres and 
 Primmins. But all the fishes on my uncle's property were under 
 the special care of that Proteus, Bolt, and Bolt was not a man 
 likely to suffer the carps to earn their bread without contribut- 
 ing their full share to the wants of the community. But, like 
 master, like man ! Bolt was an aristocrat fit to be hung iSt la 
 lanterne. He out-Rolanded Roland in the respect he enter- 
 tained for sounding names and old families ; and by that bait 
 my father caught him with such skill, that you might see that, 
 if Austin Caxton had been an angler of fishes, he could have 
 filled his basket full any day, shine or rain. 
 
 " You observe, Bolt," said my father, beginning artfully, 
 " that those fishes, dull as you may think them, are creatures
 
 276 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 capable of a syllogism ; and if they saw that, in proportion to 
 their civility to me, they were depopulated by you, they would 
 put two and two together, and renounce my acquaintance." 
 
 " Is that what you call being silly Jems, sir ?" said Bolt : 
 " faith, there is many a good Christian not half so wise ! " 
 
 " Man," answered my father thoughtfully, '' is an animal 
 less syllogistical, or more silly-Jemical, than many creatures 
 popularly esteemed his inferiors. Yes, let but one of those 
 Cyprinidae, with his fine sense of logic, see that, if his fellow- 
 fishes eat bread, they are suddenly jerked out of their element, 
 and vanish forever ; and though you broke a quartern loaf 
 into crumbs, he would snap his tail at you with enlightened 
 contempt. If," said my father, soliloquizing, " I had been as 
 syllogistic as those scaly logicians, I should never have swal- 
 lowed that hook, which hum ! there least said soonest 
 mended. But, Mr. Bolt, to return to the Cyprinidae." 
 
 " What's the hard name you call them 'ere carp, your 
 honor?" asked Bolt. 
 
 " Cyprinidse, a family of the section Malacoptergii Ab- 
 dominales," replied Mr. Caxton ; "their teeth are generally 
 confined to the Pharyngeans, and their branchiostegous rays 
 are but few marks of distinction from fishes vulgar and 
 voracious." 
 
 " Sir," said Bolt, glancing to the stewpond, " if I had known 
 they had been a family of such importance, I am sure I should 
 have treated them with more respect." 
 
 " They are a very old family, Bolt, and have been settled in 
 England since the fourteenth century. A younger branch of 
 the family has established itself in a pond in the gardens of 
 Peterhoff (the celebrated palace of Peter the Great, Bolt an 
 emperor highly respected by my brother, for he killed a great 
 many people very gloriously in battle, beside those whom he 
 sabred for his own private amusement). And there is an 
 officer or servant of the Imperial Household, whose task it is to 
 summon those Russian Cyprinidae to dinner, by ringing a bell, 
 shortly after which, you may see the emperor and empress, 
 with all their waiting ladies and gentlemen, coming down in 
 their carriages to see the Cyprinidae eat in state. So you per- 
 ceive, Bolt, that it would be a republican, Jacobinical proceed- 
 ing to stew members of a family so intimately associated with 
 royalty." 
 
 " Dear me, sir ! " said Bolt, " I am very glad you told me. 
 I ought to have known they were genteel fish, they are so 
 mighty shy as all your real quality are."
 
 THE CAXTONS. 277 
 
 My father smiled and rubbed his hands gently ; he had 
 carried his point, and henceforth the Cyprinidae of the section 
 Malacoptergii Abdominales were as sacred in Bolt's eyes as 
 cats and ichneumons were in those of a priest in Thebes. 
 
 My poor father ! with what true and unostentatious philos- 
 ophy thou didst accommodate thyself to the greatest change 
 thy quiet, harmless life had known, since it had passed out of 
 the brief burning cycle of the passions. Lost was the home, 
 endeared to thee by so many noiseless victories of the mind, 
 so many mute histories of the heart for only the scholar 
 knoweth how deep a charm lies in monotony, in the old as- 
 sociations, the old ways, and habitual clockwork of peaceful 
 vime. Yet, the home may be replaced thy heart built its 
 home round itself everywhere and the old Tower might 
 supply the loss of the brick house, and the walk by the stew- 
 pond become as dear as the haunts by the sunny peach wall. 
 But what shall replace to thee the bright dream of thine inno- 
 cent ambition that angel-wing which had glittered across thy 
 manhood, in the hour between its noon and its setting? What 
 replace to thee the Magnum Opus the Great Book ! fair 
 and broadspreading tree lone amidst the sameness of the 
 landscape now plucked up by the roots ! The oxygen was 
 subtracted from the air of thy life. For be it known to you, 
 O my compassionate readers, that with the death of the Anti- 
 Publisher Society the blood-streams of the Great Book stood 
 still ; its pulse was arrested ; its full heart beat no more. 
 Three thousand copies of the first seven sheets in quarto, with 
 sundry unfinished plates, anatomical, architectural, and graphic, 
 depicting various developments of the human skull (that 
 temple of Human Error), from the Hottentot to the Greek ; 
 sketches of ancient buildings, Cyclopean and Pelasgic ; Pyra- 
 mids, and Pur-tors, all signs of races whose handwriting was 
 on their walls ; landscapes to display the influence of Nature 
 upon the customs, creeds, and philosophy of men here show- 
 ing how the broad Chaldean wastes led to the contemplation of 
 the stars ; and illustrations of the Zodiac, in elucidation of the 
 mysteries of symbol worship ; fantastic vagaries of earth fresh 
 from the Deluge, tending to impress on early superstition the 
 awful sense of the rude powers of Nature ; views of the rocky 
 defiles of Laconia ; Sparta, neighbored by the " silent Amy- 
 clae," explaining as it were, geographically, the iron customs 
 of the warrior colony (arch Tories, amidst the shift and roar 
 of Hellenic democracies), contrasted by the seas, and coasts, 
 and creeks of Athens and Ionia, tempting to adventure, com-
 
 278 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 merce, and change. Yea, my father, in his suggestions to the 
 artist of those few imperfect plates, had thrown as much light 
 on the infancy of earth and its tribes as by the "shining 
 words " that flowed from his calm, starry knowledge ! Plates 
 and copies, all rested now in peace and dust " housed with 
 darkness and with death," en the sepulchral shelves of the 
 lobby to which they were consigned rays intercepted worlds 
 incompleted. The Prometheus was bound, and the fire he 
 had stolen from heaven lay imbedded in the flints of his rock. 
 For so costly was the mould in which Uncle Jack and the 
 Anti-Publisher Society had contrived to cast this Exposition 
 of Human Error, that every bookseller shyed at its very sight, 
 as an owl blinks at daylight, or human error at truth. In vain 
 Squills and I, before we left London, had carried a gigantic 
 specimen of the Magnum Opus into the back parlors of firms 
 the most opulent and adventurous. Publisher after publisher 
 started, as if we had held a blunderbuss to his ear. All Pater- 
 noster Row uttered a " Lord deliver us ! " Human Error found 
 no man so egregiously its victim as to complete those two quar- 
 tos, with the prospect of two others, at his own expense. Now, I 
 had earnestly hoped that my father, for the sake of mankind, 
 would be persuaded to risk some portion and that, I own, 
 not a small one of his remaining capital on the conclusion 
 of an undertaking so elaborately begun. But there my 
 father was obdurate. No big words about mankind, and 
 the advantage to unborn generations, could stir him an 
 inch. " Stuff !" said Mr. Caxton peevishly. " A man's duties 
 to mankind and posterity begin with his own son ; and 
 having wasted half your patrimony, I will not take another 
 huge slice out of the poor remainder to gratify my vanity, for 
 that is the plain truth of it. Man must atone for sin by 
 expiation. By the book I have sinned, and the book must 
 expiate it. Pile the sheets up in the lobby, so that at least one 
 man may be wiser and humbler by the sight of Human Error, 
 every time he walks by so stupendous a monument of it." 
 
 Verily, I know not how my father could bear to look at 
 those dumb fragments of himself strata of the Caxtonian 
 conformation lying layer upon layer, as if packed up and dis- 
 posed for the inquisitive genius of some moral Murchison or 
 Mantell. But for my part, I never glanced at their repose in 
 the dark lobby, without thinking : " Courage, Pisistratus ! 
 courage ! there's something worth living for ; work hard, grow 
 \ich, and the Great Book shall come out at last." 
 
 Meanwhile, I wandered over the country, and made acquaint-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 279 
 
 ance with the farmers, and with Trevanion's steward an able 
 man, and a great agriculturist and I learned from them a 
 better notion of the nature of my uncle's domains. Those 
 domains covered an immense acreage, which, save a small 
 farm, was of no value at present. But land of the same sort 
 had been lately redeemed by a simple kind of draining, now 
 well known in Cumberland ; and, with capital, Roland's barren 
 moors might become a noble property. But capital, where 
 was that to come from ? Nature gives us all except the means 
 to turn her into marketable account. As old Plautus saith so 
 wittily: "Day, night, water, sun, and moon, are to be had 
 gratis, for everything else down with your dust ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 NOTHING has been heard of Uncle Jack. Before we left 
 the brick house, the captain gave him an invitation to the 
 Tower, more, I suspect, out of compliment to my mother than 
 from the unbidden impulse of his own inclinations. But Mr. 
 Tibbets politely declined it. During his stay at the brick 
 house, he had received and written a vast number of letters ; 
 some of those he received, indeed, were left at the village post- 
 office, under the alphabetical addresses of A B or X Y. For 
 no misfortune ever paralyzed the energies of Uncle Jack. In 
 the winter of adversity he vanished, it is true, but even in van- 
 ishing he vegetated still. He resembled those algae, termed 
 the Protococcus nivales, which give a rose color to the Polar 
 snows that conceal them, and flourish unsuspected amidst the 
 general dissolution of Nature. Uncle Jack, then, was as lively 
 and sanguine as ever, though he began to let fall vague hints 
 of intentions to abandon the general cause of his fellow-creat- 
 ures, and to set up business henceforth purely on his own 
 account ; wherewith my father to the great shock of my 
 belief in his philanthropy expressed himself much pleased. 
 And I strongly suspect that, when Uncle Jack wrapped him- 
 self up in his new double Saxony, and went off at last, he car- 
 ried with him something more than my father's good wishes 
 in aid of his conversion to egotistical philosophy. 
 
 " That man will do yet," said my father, as the last glimpse 
 was caught of Uncle Jack standing up on the stage-coach box 
 beside the driver partly to wave his hand to us as we stood 
 at the gate, and partly to array himself more commodiously in 
 a box-coat, with six capes, which the coachman had lent him. 
 
 "Do you think so, sir?" said I doubtfully. "May I ask why?"
 
 2So THE CAXTONS. 
 
 MR. CAXTON. On the cat principle that he tumbles so 
 lightly. You may throw him down from St. Paul's, and the 
 next time you see him he will be scrambling atop of the Mon- 
 ument. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Lut a cat the most viparious is limited to 
 nine lives ; and Uncle Jack must be now far gone in his eighth. 
 
 MR. CAXTON (not heeding that answer, for he has got his 
 hand in his waistcoat). The earth, according to Apuleius, in 
 his " Treatise on the Philosophy of Plato," was produced from 
 right-angled triangles ; but fire and air from the scalene tri- 
 angle, the angles of which, I need not say, are very different 
 from those of a right-angled triangle. Now I think there are 
 people in the world of whom one can only judge rightly ac- 
 cording to those mathematical principles applied to their 
 original construction : for, if air or fire predominates in our 
 natures, we are scalene triangles ; if earth, right-angled. Now, 
 as air is so notably manifested in Jack's conformation, he is, 
 nolens volens, produced in conformity with his preponderating 
 element. He is a scalene triangle, and must be judged, accord- 
 ingly, upon irregular, lop-sided principles ; whereas you and I, 
 commonplace mortals, are produced, like the earth, which is our 
 preponderating element, with our triangles all right-angled, 
 comfortable and complete for which blessing let us thank 
 Providence, and be charitable to those who are necessarily 
 windy and gaseous, from that unlucky scalene triangle upon 
 which they have had the misfortune to be constructed, and 
 which, you perceive, is quite at variance with the mathematical 
 constitution of the earth ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Sir, I am very happy to hear so simple, easy, 
 and intelligible an explanation of Uncle Jack's peculiarities ; 
 and I only hope that, for the future, the sides of his scalene 
 triangle may never be produced to our rectangular conforma- 
 tions. 
 
 MR. CAXTON (descending from his stilts, with an air as 
 mildly reproachful as if I had been cavilling at the virtues of 
 Socrates). You don't do your uncle justice, Pisistratus ; he 
 is a very clever man ; and I am sure that, in spite of his scalene 
 misfortune, he would be an honest one that is (added Mr. 
 Caxton, correcting himself), not romantically or heroically 
 honest, but honest as men go if he could but keep his head 
 long enough above water ; but, you see, when the best man in 
 the world is engaged in the process of sinking, he catches hold 
 of whatever comes in his way, and drowns the very friend who 
 is swimming to save him.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 281 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Perfectly true, sir ; but Uncle Jack makes 
 it his business to be always sinking ! 
 
 MR. CAXTON (with naivetS). And how could it be other- 
 wise, when he has been carrying all his fellow-creatures in his 
 breeches' pockets ! Now he has got rid of that dead weight, 
 I should not be surprised if he swam like a cork. 
 
 PISISTRATUS (who, since the Capitalist, has become a strong 
 Anti-Jackian). But if, sir, you really think Uncle Jack's love 
 for his fellow-creatures is genuine, that is surely not the worst 
 part of him. 
 
 MR. CAXTON. O literal ratiocinator, and dull to the true 
 logic of Attic irony ! can't you comprehend that an affection 
 may be genuine as felt by the man, yet its nature be spurious 
 in relation to others ? A" man may genuinely believe he loves his 
 fellow-creatures, when he roasts them alive like Torquemada, or 
 guillotines them like St. Just! Happily Jack's scalene triangle, 
 being more produced from air than from fire, does not give 
 to his philanthropy the inflammatory character which distin- 
 guishes the benevolence of inquisitors and revolutionists. The 
 philanthropy, therefore, takes a more flatulent and innocent 
 form, and expends its strength in mounting paper balloons, 
 out of which Jack pitches himself, with all the fellow-creatures 
 he can coax into sailing with him. No doubt Uncle Jack's 
 philanthropy is sincere, when he cuts the string and soars up 
 out of sight ; but the sincerity will not much mend their bruises 
 when himself and fellow-creatures come tumbling down neck 
 and heels. It must be a very wide heart that can take in all 
 mankind and of a very strong fibre to bear so much stretch- 
 ing. Such hearts there are, Heaven be thanked ! and all 
 praise to them ! Jack's is not of that quality. He is a scalene 
 triangle. He is not a circle ! And yet, if he would but let it 
 rest, it is a good heart a very good heart," continued my 
 father, warming into a tenderness quite infantine, all things 
 considered. " Poor Jack ! that was prettily said of him : ' That 
 if he were a dog, and he had no home but a dog-kennel, he 
 would turn out to give me the best of the straw ! ' Poor brother 
 Jack ! " 
 
 So the discussion was dropped ; and, in the mean while, 
 Uncle Jack, like the short-faced gentleman in the " Spectator," 
 " distinguished himself by a profound silence."
 
 283 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BLANCHE has contrived to associate herself, if not with my 
 more active diversions in running over the country, and mak- 
 ing friends with the farmers still in all my more leisurely and 
 domestic pursuits. There is about her a silent charm that it 
 is very hard to define, but it seems to arise from a kind of in- 
 nate sympathy with the moods and humors of those she loves. 
 If one is gay, there is a cheerful ring in her silver laugh that 
 seems gladness itself ; if one is sad, and creeps away into a 
 corner to bury one's head in one's hands, and muse, by-and- 
 by, and just at the right moment, when one has mused one's 
 fill, and the heart wants something to. refresh and restore it, 
 one feels two innocent arms round one's neck looks up and 
 lo ! Blanche's soft eyes, full of wistful, compassionate kind- 
 ness ; though she has the tact not to question ; it is enough 
 for her to sorrow with your sorrow she cares not to know 
 more. A strange child ! fearless, and yet seemingly fond of 
 things that inspire children with fear ; fond of tales of fay, 
 sprite, and ghost, which Mrs. Primmins draws fresh and new 
 from her memory, as a conjuror draws pancakes hot and hot 
 from a hat. And yet so sure is Blanche of her own innocence 
 that they never trouble her dreams in her lone little room, full 
 of caliginous corners and nooks, with the winds moaning round 
 the desolate ruins, and the casements rattling hoarse in the 
 dungeon-like wall. She would have no dread to walk through 
 the ghostly keep in the dark, or cross the churchyard, what 
 time, 
 
 " By the moon's doubtful and malignant light," 
 
 the gravestones look so spectral, and the shade from the yew- 
 trees lies so still on the sward. When the brows of Roland are 
 gloomiest, and the compression of his lips makes sorrow look 
 sternest, be sure that Blanche is couched at his feet, waiting 
 the moment when, with some heavy sigh, the muscles relax, 
 and she is sure of the smile if she climbs to his knee. It is 
 pretty to chance on her gliding up broken turret stairs, or 
 standing hushed in the recess of shattered casements, and you 
 wonder what thoughts of vague awe and solemn pleasure can 
 be at work under that still little brow. 
 
 She has a quick comprehension of all that is taught to her , 
 she already tasks to the full my mother's educational arts. 
 My father has had to rummage his library for books, to feed 
 (or extinguish) her desire for " farther information"; and has
 
 THE CAXTONS. 283 
 
 promised lessons in French and Italian, at some golden time in 
 the shadowy " By-and-By," which are received so gratefully 
 that one might think Blanche mistook " Te'le'maque " and " No- 
 velle Morali " for baby-houses and dolls. Heaven sent her 
 through French and Italian with better success than attended 
 Mr. Caxton's lessons in Greek to Pisistratus ! She has an ear 
 for music, which my mother, who is no bad judge, declares to 
 be exquisite. Luckily there is an old Italian settled in a town 
 ten miles off, who is said to be an excellent music-master, and 
 who comes the round of the neighboring squirearchy twice a 
 week. I have taught her to draw an accomplishment in 
 which I am not without skill and she has already taken a 
 sketch from nature, which, barring the perspective, is not so 
 amiss ; indeed, she has caught the notion of " idealizing " 
 (which promises future originality) from her own natural in- 
 stincts, and given to the old witch-elm, that hangs over the 
 stream, just the bough that it wanted to dip into the water, 
 and soften off the hard lines. My only fear is, that Blanche 
 should become too dreamy and thoughtful. Poor child, she 
 has no one to play with ! So I look out, and get her a dog, 
 frisky and young, who abhors sedentary occupations a span- 
 iel, small and coal-black, with ears sweeping the ground. I 
 baptize him " Juba," in honor of Addison's Cato, and in con- 
 sideration of his sable curls and Mauritanian complexion. 
 Blanche does not seem so eerie and elf-like while gliding 
 through the ruins, when Juba barks by her side, and scares 
 the birds from the ivy. 
 
 One day I had been pacing to and fro the hall, which was 
 deserted ; and the sight of the armor and portraits dumb 
 evidences of the active and adventurous lives of the old inhab- 
 itants, which seemed to reprove my own inactive obscurity . 
 had set me off on one of those Pegase"an hobbies on which 
 youth mounts to the skies delivering maidens on rocks, and 
 killing Gorgons and monsters when Juba bounded in, and 
 Blanche came after him, her straw hat in her hand. 
 
 BLANCHE. I thought you were here, Sisty : may I stay ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Why, my dear child, the day is so fine that, 
 instead of losing it indoors, you ought to be running in the 
 fields with Juba. 
 
 JUBA. Bow wow. 
 
 BLANCHE. Will you come too ? If Sisty stays in, Blanche 
 does not care for the butterflies' 
 
 Pisistratus, seeing that the thread of his day-dreams is 
 broken, consents with an air of resignation. Just as they gain
 
 284 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 the door, Blanche pauses, and looks as if there were something 
 on her mind. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. What now, Blanche ? Why are you making 
 knots in that ribbon, and writing invisible characters on the 
 floor with the point of that busy little foot ? 
 
 BLANCHE (mysteriously). I have found a new room, Sisty. 
 Do you think we may look into it ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Certainly ; unless any Bluebeard of your 
 acquaintance told you not. Where is it ? 
 
 BLANCHE. Upstairs to the left. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. That little old door, going down two stone 
 steps, which is always kept locked ? 
 
 BLANCHE. Yes ! it is not locked to-day. The door was 
 ajar, and I peeped in ; but I would not do more till I came and 
 asked you if you thought it would not be wrong. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Very good in you, my discreet little cousin. 
 I have no doubt it is a ghost-trap ; however, with Juba's pro- 
 tection, I think we might veture together. 
 
 Pisistratus, Blanche, and Juba ascend the stairs, and turn 
 off down a dark passage to the left, away from the rooms in 
 use. We reach the arch-pointed door of oak planks nailed 
 roughly together, we push it open, and perceive that a small 
 stair winds down from the room ; it is just over Roland's 
 chamber. 
 
 The room has a damp smell, and has probably been left 
 open to be aired, for the wind comes through the unbarred 
 casement, and a billet burns on the hearth. The place has 
 that attractive, fascinating air, \\hich belongs to a lumber- 
 room, than which I know nothing that so captivates the interest 
 and fancy of young people. What treasures, .to them, often 
 lie hid in those quaint odds and ends which the elder genera- 
 tions have discarded as rubbish ! All children are by nature 
 antiquarians and relic-hunters. Still there is an order and 
 precision with which the articles in that room are stowed away 
 that belies the true notion of lumber none of the mildew and 
 dust which give such mournful interest to things abandoned 
 to decay. 
 
 In one corner are piled up cases, and military-looking trunks 
 of outlandish aspect, with R. D. C. in brass nails on their 
 sides. From these we turn with involuntary respect, and call 
 off Juba, who has wedged himself behind in pursuit of some 
 imaginary mouse. But in the other corner is what seems to 
 me a child's cradle not an English one evidently : it is of 
 wood, seemingly Spanish rosewood, with a railwork at the
 
 THE CAXTONS. 285 
 
 back, of twisted columns ; and I should scarcely have known 
 it to be a cradle but for the fairy-like quilt and the tiny pillows, 
 which proclaimed its uses. 
 
 On the wall above the cradle were arranged sundry little 
 articles, that had, perhaps, once made the joy of a child's 
 heart broken toys with the paint rubbed off, a tin sword and 
 trumpet, and a few tattered books, mostly in Spanish, by their 
 shape and look, doubtless children's books. Near these stood, 
 on the floor, a picture with its face to the wall. Juba had 
 chased the mouse that his fancy still insisted on creating, 
 behind this picture, and, as he abruptly drew back, the picture 
 fell into the hands I stretched forth to receive it. I turned 
 the face to the light, and was surprised to see merely an old 
 family portrait ; it was that of a gentleman in the flowered 
 vest and stiff ruff which referred the date of his existence to 
 the reign of Elizabeth a man with a bold and noble counte- 
 nance. On the corner was placed a faded coat of arms, beneath 
 which was inscribed : " HERBERT DE CAXTON, EQ : AUR : 
 ;TAT : 35." 
 
 On the back of the canvas I observed, as I now replaced 
 the picture against the wall, a label in Roland's handwriting, 
 though in a younger and more running hand than he now 
 wrote. The words were these : " The best and bravest of 
 our line. He charged by Sidney's side on the field of Zutphen ; 
 he fought in Drake's ship against the armament of Spain. If 
 ever I have a " The rest of the label seemed to have been 
 torn off. 
 
 I turned away, and felt a remorseful shame that I had so 
 far gratified my curiosity, if by so harsh a name the powerful 
 interest that had absorbed me must be called. I looked round 
 for Blanche ; she had retreated from my side to the door, and, 
 with her hands before her eyes, was weeping. As I stole 
 towards her, my glance fell on a book that lay on a chair near 
 the casement, and beside those relics of an infancy once pure 
 and serene. By the old-fashioned silver clasps, I recognized 
 Roland's Bible. I felt as if I had been almost guilty of prof- 
 anation in my thoughtless intrusion. I drew away Blanche, 
 and we descended the stairs noiselessly ; and not till we were 
 on our favorite spot, amidst a heap of ruins on the feudal jus- 
 tice-hill, did I seek to kiss away her tears and ask the cause. 
 
 " My poor brother ! " sobbed Blanche, " they must have 
 been his and we shall never, never see him again ! and poor 
 papa's Bible, which he reads when he is very, very sad ! I did 
 not weep enough when my brother died. I know better what
 
 286 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 death is now ! Poor papa ! poor papa ! Don't die, too, 
 Si sty ! " 
 
 There was no running after butterflies that morning ; and 
 it was long before I could soothe Blanche. Indeed, she bore 
 the traces of dejection in her soft looks for many, many days ; 
 and she often asked me, sighingly : " Don't you think it was 
 very wrong in me to take you there ? " Poor little Blanche, 
 true daughter of Eve, she would not let me bear my due share 
 of the blame ; she would have it all in Adam's primitive way 
 of justice : " The woman tempted me, and I did eat." And 
 since then Blanche had seemed more fond than ever of Roland, 
 and comparatively deserts me to nestle close to him, and 
 closer, till he looks up and says : " My child, you are pale ; 
 go and run after the butterflies "; and she says now to him, 
 not to me : " Come too ! " drawing him out into the sunshine 
 with a hand that will not loose its hold. 
 
 Of all Roland's line, this Herbert de Caxton was " the best 
 and bravest ! " Yet he had never named that ancestor to me 
 never put any forefather in comparison with the dubious and 
 mythical Sir William. I now remembered once, that, in going 
 over the pedigree, I had been struck by the name of Herbert 
 the only Herbert in the scroll and had asked : " What of 
 him, uncle?" and Roland had muttered something inaudible, 
 and turned away. And I remembered, also, that in Roland's 
 room there was the mark in the wall where a picture of that 
 size had once hung. The picture had been removed thence 
 before we first came, but must have hung there for years to 
 have left that mark on the wall perhaps suspended by Bolt, 
 during Roland's long continental absence. " If ever I have 
 a ' What were the missing words ? Alas ! did they not 
 relate to the son missed forever, evidently not forgotten 
 still ? 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MY uncle sat on one side the fireplace, my mother on the 
 other ; and I, at a small table between them, prepared to note 
 down the results of their conference ; for they had met in high 
 council, to assess their joint fortunes determine what should 
 be brought into the common stock, and set apart for the Civil 
 List, and what should be laid aside as a Sinking-Fund. Now 
 my mother, true woman as she was, had a womanly love of 
 show in her own quiet way of making " a genteel figure " in 
 the eyes of the neighborhood of seeing that sixpence not only
 
 THE CAXTONS. 287 
 
 went as far as sixpence ought to go, but that, in the going, it 
 should emit a mild but imposing splendor not, indeed, a 
 gaudy flash, a startling Borealian coruscation, which is scarcely 
 within the modest and placid idiosyncrasies of sixpence, but a 
 gleam of gentle and benign light, just to show where a six- 
 pence had been, and allow you time to say " Behold ! " before 
 
 " The jaws of darkness did devour it up." 
 
 Thus, as I once before took occasion to apprise the reader, 
 we had always held a very respectable position in the neigh- 
 borhood round our square brick house ; been as sociable as 
 my father's habits would permit ; given our little tea-parties, 
 and our occasional dinners, and without attempting to vie with 
 our richer associates, there had always been so exquisite a 
 neatness, so notable a housekeeping, so thoughtful a disposition, 
 in short, of all the properties indigenous to a well-spent six- 
 pence, in my mother's management, that there was not an old 
 maid within seven miles of us who did not pronounce our tea- 
 parties to be perfect; and the great Mrs. Rollick, who gave 
 forty guineas a year to a professed cook and housekeeper, used 
 regularly, whenever we dined at Rollick Hall, to call across 
 the table to my mother (who therewith blushed up to her ears), 
 to apologize for the strawberry jelly. It is true, that when, on 
 returning home, my mother adverted to that flattering and 
 delicate compliment, in a tone that revealed the self-conceit of 
 the human heart, my father, whether to sober his Kitty's vanity 
 into a proper and Christian mortification of spirit, or from 
 that strange shrewdness which belonged to him, would remark 
 that Mrs. Rollick was of a querulous nature ; that the compli- 
 ment was meant not to please my mother, but to spite the pro- 
 fessed cook and housekeeper, to whom the butler would be 
 sure to repeat the invidious apology. 
 
 In settling at the Tower, and assuming the head of its es- 
 tablishment, my mother was naturally anxious that, poor bat- 
 tered invalid though the Tower was, it should still put its best 
 leg foremost. Sundry cards, despite the thinness of the neigh- 
 borhood, had been left at the door ; various invitations, which 
 my uncle had hitherto declined, had greeted his occupation 
 of the ancestral ruin, and had become more numerous since 
 the news of our arrival had gone abroad ; so that my mother 
 saw before her a very suitable field for her hospitable accom- 
 plishments a reasonable ground for her ambition that the 
 Tower should hold up its head, as became a Tower that held 
 the head of the family.
 
 388 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 But not to wrong thee, dear mother ! as thou sittest there 
 opposite the grim Captain, so fair and so neat, with thine 
 apron as white, and thy hair as trim and as sheen, and thy 
 morning cap, with its ribbons of blue, as coquettishly arranged 
 as if thou hadst a fear that the least negligence on thy part 
 might lose thee the heart of thine Austin not to wrong thee 
 by setting down to frivolous motives alone thy feminine visions 
 of the social amenities of life, I know that thine heart, in its 
 provident tenderness, was quite as much interested as ever thy 
 vanities could be, in the hospitable thoughts on which thou 
 wert intent. For, first and foremost, it was the wish of thy 
 soul that thine Austin might, as little as possible, be reminded 
 of the change in his fortunes might miss as little as possible 
 those interruptions to his abstracted scholarly moods, at which, 
 it is true, he used to fret and to pshaw and to cry Papae ! but 
 which nevertheless always did him good, and freshened up the 
 stream of his thoughts. And, next, it was the conviction of 
 thine understanding that a little society and boon companion- 
 ship, and the proud pleasure of showing his ruins, and presid- 
 ing at the hall of his forefathers, would take Roland out of 
 those gloomy reveries into which he still fell at times. And, 
 thirdly, for us young people ought not Blanche to find com- 
 panions in children of her own sex and age ? Already in those 
 large black eyes there was something melancholy and brood- 
 ing, as there is in the eyes of all children who live only with 
 their elders ; and for Pisistratus, with his altered prospects, 
 and the one great gnawing memory at his heart which he 
 tried to conceal from himself, but which a mother (and a 
 mother who had loved) saw at a glance what could be better 
 than such union and interchange with the world around us, 
 small though that world might be, as woman, sweet binder and 
 blender of all social links, might artfully effect ? So that thou 
 didst not go, like the awful Florentine, 
 
 " Sopra lor vanita che par persona," 
 
 ' over thin shadows that mocked the substance of real forms,' 
 but rather it was the real forms that appeared as shadows "or 
 vanita. 
 
 What a digression ! can I never tell my story in a plain, 
 straightforward way ? Certainly I was born under Cancer, 
 and all my movements are circumlocutory, sideways, and crab- 
 like.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 289 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " I THINK, Roland," said my mother, " that the establish, 
 ment is settled. Bolt, who is equal to three men at least ; 
 Primmins, cook and housekeeper ; Molly, a good stirring girl, 
 and willing (though I've had some difficulty in persuading her 
 to submit not to be called Anna Maria ! ) Their wages are 
 but a small item, my dear Roland." 
 
 " Hem ! " said Roland, " since we can't do with fewer ser- 
 vants at less wages, I suppose we must call it small." 
 
 " It is so," said my mother, with mild positiveness. " And, 
 indeed, what with the game and fish, and the garden and 
 poultry-yard, and your own mutton, our housekeeping will be 
 next to nothing." 
 
 " Hem ! " again said the thrifty Roland, with a slight inflec- 
 tion of the beetle brows. <l It may be next to nothing, 
 ma'am sister just as a butcher's shop maybe next to North- 
 umberland House, but there is a vast deal between nothing 
 and that next neighbor you have given it." 
 
 This speech was so like one of my father's so naive an 
 imitation of that subtle reasoner's use of the rhetorical figure 
 called ANTANACLASIS (or repetition of the same words in a 
 different sense), that I laughed and my mother smiled. But 
 she smiled reverently, not thinking of the ANTANACLASIS, as, 
 laying her hand on Roland's arm, she replied in the yet more 
 formidable figure of speech called EPIPHONEMA (or exclama- 
 tion) : " Yet, with all your economy, you would have had 
 us " 
 
 "Tut !" cried my uncle, parrying the EPIPHONEMA with a 
 masterly APOSIOPESIS (or breaking off) ; " Tut ! if you had 
 done what I wished, I should have had more pleasure for my 
 money ! " 
 
 My poor mother's rhetorical armory supplied no weapon to 
 meet that artful APOSIOPESIS ; so she dropped the rhetoric 
 altogether, and went on with that " unadorned eloquence " 
 natural to her, as to other great financial reformers : " Well, 
 Roland, but 1 am a good housewife, I assure you, and don't 
 scold ; -but that you never do I mean, don't look as if you 
 would like to scold ; the fact is, that, even after setting aside 
 ;ioo a year for our little parties " 
 
 '' Little parties ! a hundred a year ! " cried the Captain 
 aghast. 
 
 My mother pursued her way "remorselessly : "Which we
 
 2yO THE CAXTONS. 
 
 can well afford ; and v/ithout counting your half-pay, which 
 you must keep for pocket-money and your wardrobe and 
 Blanche's, I calculate that we can allow Pisistratus 150 a 
 year, which, with the scholarship he is to get, will keep him at 
 Cambridge " (at that, seeing the scholarship was as yet amidst 
 the Pleasures of Hope, I shook my head doubtfully) ; " and," 
 continued my mother, not heeding that sign of dissent, " we 
 shall still have something to lay by." 
 
 The Captain's face assumed a ludicrous expression of com- 
 passion and horror ; he evidently thought my mother's mis- 
 fortunes had turned her head. 
 
 His tormentor continued. 
 
 " For," said my mother, with a pretty, calculating shake of 
 her head, and a movement of the right forefinger towards the 
 five fingers of the left hand, " ^370 the interest of Austin's 
 fortune and ^50 that we may reckon for the rent of our 
 house, make ^420 a year. Add your ^330 a year from the 
 farm, sheep-walk, and cottages that you let, and the total is 
 750. Now, with all we get for nothing for our housekeep- 
 ing, as I said before, we can do very well with ^500 a year, 
 and indeed make a handsome figure. So, after allowing Sisty 
 ^150, we still have 100 to lay by for Blanche." 
 
 " Stop, stop, stop ! " cried the Captain in great agitation ; 
 " who told you that I had ^330 a year? " 
 
 " Why, Bolt don't be angry with him." 
 
 " Bolt is a blockhead. From ^330 a year take ^200, and 
 the remainder is all my income, besides my half-pay." 
 
 My mother opened her eyes, and so did I. 
 
 " To that ^130 add, if you please, ^130 of your own. All 
 that you have over, my dear sister, is yours or Austin's, or your 
 boy's ; but not a shilling can go to give luxuries to a miserly, 
 battered old soldier. Do you understand me ? " 
 
 " No, Roland," said my mother, " I don't understand you at 
 aJ J . Does not your property bring in ^330 a year ? " 
 
 " Yes, but it has a debt of ^200 a year on it," said the Cap- 
 cain gloomily and reluctantly. 
 
 " Oh, Roland ! " cried my mother tenderly, and approach- 
 ing so near that, had my father been in the room, I am sure 
 she would have been bold enough to kiss the stern Captain, 
 though I never saw him look sterner and less kissable. " Oh, 
 Roland ! " cried my mother, concluding that famous EPIPHO- 
 NEMA which my uncle's APOSIOPESIS had before nipped in the 
 bud, ' and yet you would have made us, who are twice as rich 
 rob you of this little all ! "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 29! 
 
 " Ah I " said Roland, trying to smile. " but I should have 
 had my own way then, and starved you shockingly. No talk 
 then of ' little parties,' and such-iike. But you must not now 
 turn the tables against me, nor bring your ^420 a year as a 
 set-off to my ^130." 
 
 " Why," said my mother generously, " you forget the money's 
 worth that you contribute all that your grounds supply, and 
 all that we save by it. I am sure that that's worth a yearly 
 ^300 at the least." 
 
 "Madam sister," said the Captain, " I'm sure you don't 
 want to hurt my feelings. All I have to say is, that, if you add 
 to what I bring an equal sum to keep up the poor old ruin 
 it is the utmost that I can allow, and the rest is not more than 
 Pisistratus can spend." 
 
 So saying, the Captain rose, bowed, and, before either of us 
 could stop him, hobbled out of the room. 
 
 " Dear, me, Sisty ! " said my mother, wringing her hands, 
 " I have certainly displeased him. How could I guess he had 
 so large a debt on the property ?" 
 
 " Did not he pay his son's debts ? Is not that the reason 
 that 
 
 " Ah ! " interrupted my mother, almost crying, " and it was 
 that which ruffled him, and I not to guess it ? What shall I 
 do ? " 
 
 " Set to work at a new calculation, dear mother, and let him 
 have his own way." 
 
 " But then," said my mother, " your uncle will mope himself 
 to death, and your father will have no relaxation, while you see 
 that he has lost his former object in his books. And Blanche 
 and you too. If we were only to contribute what dear Roland 
 does, I do not see how, with ^260 a year, we could ever bring 
 our neighbors round us ! I wonder what Austin would say ! 
 I have half a mind no, I'll go and look over the week-books 
 with Primmins." 
 
 My mother went her way sorrowfully, and I was left alone. 
 
 Then I looked on the stately old hall, grand in its forlorn 
 decay. And the dreams I had begun to cherish at my heart 
 swept over me, and hurried me along, far, far away into the 
 golden land, whither Hope beckons youth. To restore my 
 father's fortunes re-weave the links of that broken ambition 
 which had knit his genius with the world rebuild those fallen 
 walls cultivate those barren moors revive the ancient name 
 glad the old soldier's age and be to both the brothers what 
 Roland had }pst a son ! These were my dreams ; and when
 
 292 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 I woke from them, lo ! they had left behind an intense pur- 
 pose, a resolute object. Dream, O youth ! dream manfully 
 and nobly, and thy dreams shall be prophets ! 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LETTER FROM PISISTRATUS CAXTON, TO ALBERT TREVANION, 
 
 ESQ., M.P. 
 
 (The confession of a youth who in the Old World finds himself one too 
 
 many.) 
 
 " MY DEAR MR. TREVANION : 
 
 " I thank you cordially, and so we do all, for your reply to 
 my letter, informing you of the villanous traps through which 
 we have passed not indeed with whole skins, but still whole 
 in life and limb which, considering that the traps were three, 
 and the teeth sharp, was more than we could reasonably ex- 
 pect. We have taken to the wastes, like wise foxes as we are, 
 and I donot think a bait can be found that will again snare the 
 fox paternal. As for the fox filial, it is different, and I am 
 about to prove to you that he is burning to redeem the family 
 disgrace. Ah ! my dear Mr. Trevanion, if you are busy with 
 4 blue-books ' when this letter reaches you, stop here, and put 
 it aside for some rare moment of leisure. I am about to open 
 my heart to you, and ask you, who know the world so well, to 
 aid me in an escape from those flammantia mcenia, wherewith 
 I find that world begirt and enclosed. For look you, sir, you 
 and my father were right when you both agreed that the mere 
 book-life was not meant for me. And yet what is not book- 
 life, to a young man who would make his way through the or- 
 dinary and conventional paths to fortune ? All the professions 
 are so book-lined, book-hemmed, book-choked, that wherever 
 these strong hands of mine stretch towards action, they find 
 themselves met by octavo ramparts, flanked with quarto cren- 
 ellations. For first, this college life, opening to scholarships, 
 and ending, perchance, as you political economists would de- 
 sire, in Malthusian fellowships premiums for celibacy con- 
 sider what manner of thing it is ! 
 
 "Three years, book upon book a great Dead Sea before 
 one, three years long, and all the apples that grow on the 
 shore full of the ashes of pica and primer ! Those three years 
 ended, the fellowship, it may be won still books books if 
 the whole world does not close at the college gates. Do I, 
 from scholar, effloresce into literary man, author by profes- 
 sion ? books books ! Do I go into the law ? books books.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 293 
 
 Ars longa, vita b reins, which, paraphrased, means that it is 
 slow work before one fags one's way to a brief ! Do I turn 
 doctor? Why, what but books can kill time, until, at the age 
 of forty, a lucky chance may permit me to kill something else ? 
 The church (for which, indeed, I don't profess to be good 
 enough) that is book-life par excellence, whether, inglorious 
 and poor, I wander through long lines of divines and fathers ; 
 or, ambitious of bishoprics. I amend the corruptions, not of 
 the human heart, but of a Greek text, and through defiles of 
 scholiasts and commentators win my way to the See. In short, 
 barring the noble profession of arms, which you know, after 
 all, is not precisely the road to fortune, can you tell me any 
 means by which one may escape these eternal books, this 
 mental clockwork, and corporeal lethargy ? Where can this 
 passion for life that runs riot through my veins find its vent ? 
 Where can these stalwart limbs, and this broad chest, grow of 
 value and worth, in this hot-bed of cerebral inflammation and 
 dyspeptic intellect? I know what is in me; I know I have 
 the qualities that should go with stalwart limbs and broad 
 chest. I have some plain common-sense, some promptitude 
 and keenness, some pleasure in hardy danger, some fortitude 
 in bearing pain qualities for which I bless Heaven, for they 
 are qualities good and useful in private life. But in the forum 
 of men, in the market of fortune, are they not flocci, nauci, 
 nihilil 
 
 " In a word, dear sir and friend, in this crowded Old World, 
 there is not the same room that our bold forefathers found for 
 men to walk about, and jostle their neighbors. No ; they 
 must sit down like boys at their form, and work out their tasks, 
 with rounded shoulders and aching ringers. There has been 
 a pastoral age, and a hunting age, and a fighting age. Now 
 we have arrived at the age sedentar)'. Men who sit longest 
 carry all before them ; puny, delicate fellows, with hands just 
 strong enough to wield a pen, eyes so bleared by the midnight 
 lamp that they see no joy in that buxom sun (which draws me 
 forth into the fields, as life draws the living), and digestive 
 organs worn and macerated by the relentless flagellation of 
 the brain. Certainly, if this is to be the Reign of Mind, it is 
 idle to repine, and kick against the pricks ; but is it true that 
 all these qualities of action that are within me are to go 
 for nothing? If I were rich and happy in mind and circum- 
 stance, well and good ; I should shoot, hunt, farm, travel, 
 enjoy life, and snap my fingers at ambition. If I were so poor 
 and so humbly bred that I could turn gamekeeper or whipper-
 
 2Q4 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 in, as pauper gentlemen virtually did of old, well and good 
 too ; I should exhaust this troublesome vitality of mine, by 
 nightly. battles with poachers, and leaps over double dykes and 
 stone walls. If I were so depressed of spirit that I could live 
 without remorse on my father's small means, and exclaim with 
 Claudian : 'The earth gives me feasts that cost nothing,' well 
 and good too ; it were a life to suit a vegetable, or a very 
 minor poet. But as it is ! here I open another leaf of my 
 heart to you ! To say that, being poor, I want to make a for- 
 tune, is to say that I am an Englishman. To attach ourselves 
 to a thing positive, belongs to our practical race. Even in our 
 dreams, if we build castles in the air, they are not Castles of 
 Indolence indeed they have very little of the castle about 
 them, and look much more like Hoare's Bank on the east side 
 of Temple Bar ! I desire, then, to make a fortune. But I 
 differ from my countrymen, first, by desiring only what you 
 rich men would call but a small fortune ; secondly, in wishing 
 that I may not spend rny whole life in that fortune-making. 
 Just see, now, how I am placed. 
 
 " Under ordinary circumstances, I must begin by taking 
 from my father a large slice of an income that will ill spare 
 paring. According to my calculation, my parents and my 
 uncle want all they have got ; and the subtraction of the yearly 
 sum on which Pisistratus is to live, till he can live by his own 
 labors, would be so much taken from the decent comforts of 
 his kindred. If I return to Cambridge, with all economy, I 
 must thus narrow still more the res angttsta domi ; and when 
 Cambridge is over, and I am turned loose upon the world 
 failing, as is likely enough, of the support of a fellowship ' 
 how many years must I work, or rather, alas ! not work, at the 
 bar (which, after all, seems my best calling) before I can in 
 my turn provide for those who, till then, rob themselves for 
 me? till I have arrived at middle life, and they are old and 
 worn out till the chink of the golden bowl sounds but hol- 
 low at the ebbing well ! I would wish that, if I can make 
 money, those I love best may enjoy it while enjoyment is yet 
 left to them ; that my father shall see " The History of Human 
 Error " complete, bound in russia on his shelves ; that my 
 mother shall have the innocent pleasures that content her, 
 before age steals the light from her happy smile ; that before 
 Roland's hair is snow-white (alas ! the snows there thicken 
 fast), he shall lean on my arm, while we settle together where 
 the ruin shall be repaired or where left to the owls ; and where 
 the dreary bleak waste around shall laugh with the gleam of
 
 THE CAXTONS. 29$ 
 
 corn for you know the nature of this CumLer'ai.d soil you, 
 who possess much of it, and have won so many fair acres from 
 the wild you know that my uncle's land, now (save a single 
 farm) scarce worth a shilling an acre, needs but capital to 
 become an estate more lucrative than ever his ancestors owned. 
 You know that, for you have applied your capital to the same 
 kind of land, and, in doing so, what blessings which you 
 scarcely think of in your London Hbrary you have effected ! 
 What mouths you feed, what hands you employ ! I have cal- 
 culated that my uncle's moors, wnich now scarce maintain two 
 or three shepherds, could, manured by money, maintain two 
 hundred families by their labor. All this is worth trying for ! 
 Therefore Pisistratus wants to make money. Not so much ! 
 he does not require millions a few spare thousand pounds 
 would go a long way ; and with a modest capital to begin 
 with, Roland should become a true Squire, a real landowner, 
 not the mere lord of a desert. Now then, dear sir, advise me 
 how I may, with such qualities as I possess, arrive at that 
 capital, ay, and before it is too late, so that money-making 
 may not last till my grave. 
 
 " Turning in despair from this civilized world of ours, I 
 have cast my eyes to a world far older and yet more to a 
 world in its giant childhood. India here Australia there ! 
 What say you, sir you who will see dispassionately those 
 things that float before my eyes through a golden haze, loom- 
 ing large in the distance ? Such is my confidence in your 
 judgment, that you have but to say. ' Fool, give up thine El 
 Dorados and stay at home ; stick to the books and the desk ; 
 annihilate that redundance of animal life that is in thee ; grow 
 a mental machine ; thy physical gifts are of no avail to thee ; 
 take thy place among the slaves of the Lamp' and I will 
 obey without a murmur. But if I am right if I have in me 
 attributes that here find no market ; if my repinings are but 
 the instincts of nature, that, out of this decrepit civilization, 
 desire vent for growth in the young stir of some more rude 
 and vigorous social system then give me, I pray, that advice 
 which may clothe my idea in some practical and tangible 
 embodiments. Have I made myself understood ? 
 
 " We take no newspaper here, but occasionally one finds 
 its way from the parsonage ; and I have lately rejoiced at a 
 paragraph that spoke of your speedy entrance into the admin- 
 istration as a thing certain. I write to you before you are a 
 minister ; and you see what I seek is not in the way of official 
 patronage : a niche in an office ! oh, to me that were worse
 
 296 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 than all. Yet I did labor hard with you, but that was differ, 
 ent ! I write to you thus frankly, knowing your warm, noble 
 heart and as if you were my father. Allow me to add my 
 humble but earnest congratulations on Miss Trevanion's 
 approaching marriage with one worthy, if not of her, at least 
 of her station. I do so as becomes one whom you have 
 allowed to retain the right to pray for the happiness of you 
 and yours. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Trevanion, this is a long letter, and I dare 
 not even read it over, lest, if I do, I should not send it. Take 
 it with all its faults, and judge of it with that kindness with 
 which you have judged ever, 
 
 " Your grateful and devoted servant, 
 
 " PISISTRATUS CAXTON." 
 
 LETTER FROM ALBERT TREVANION, ESQ., M.P., TO PISISTRATUS 
 
 CAXTON. 
 
 Library of the House of Commons, 
 
 Tuesday night. 
 " MY DEAR PISISTRATUS : 
 
 " is up ! We are in for it for two mortal hours. I take 
 
 flight to the library, and devote those hours to you. Don't be 
 conceited, but that picture of yourself which you have placed 
 before me has struck me with all the force of an original. 
 The state of mind which you describe so vividly must be a 
 very common one, in our era of civilization, ) r et I have never 
 before seen it made so prominent and life-like. You have 
 been in my thoughts all day. Yes, how many young men 
 must there be like you, in this Old World, able, intelligent, 
 active, and persevering enough, yet not adapted for success in 
 any of our conventional professions ' mute, inglorious 
 Raleighs.' Your letter, young artist, is an illustration of the 
 philosophy of colonizing. I comprehend better, after reading 
 it, the old Greek colonization the sending out not only the 
 paupers, the refuse of an over-populated state, but a large 
 proportion of a better class : fellows full of pith and sap, and 
 exuberant vitality, like yourself, blending, in those wise 
 cleruchia, a certain portion of the aristocratic with the more 
 democratic element ; not turning a rabble loose upon a new 
 soil, but planting in the foreign allotments all the rudiments 
 of a harmonious state, analogous to that in the mother coun- 
 try ; not only getting rid of hungry, craving mouths, but 
 furnishing vent for a waste surplus of intelligence and courage,
 
 THE CAXTONS. 297 
 
 which at home is really not needed, and more often comes to 
 ill than to good here only menaces our artificial embank- 
 ments, but there, carried off in an aqueduct, might give life to 
 a desert. 
 
 " For my part, in my ideal of colonization, I should like 
 that each exportation of human beings had, as of old, its 
 leaders and chiefs, not so appointed from the mere quality of 
 rank ; often, indeed, taken from the humbler classes ; but still 
 men to whom a certain degree of education should give 
 promptitude, quickness, adaptability men in whom their fol- 
 lowers can confide. The Greeks understood that. Nay, as 
 the colony makes progress ; as its principal town rises into 
 the dignity of a capital zpolis that needs a polity I some- 
 times think it might be wise to go still farther, and not only 
 transplant to it a high standard of civilization, but draw it 
 more closely into connection with the parent state, and render 
 the passage of spare intellect, education, and civility, to and 
 fro, more facile, by drafting off thither the spare scions of 
 royalty itself. I know that many of my more ' liberal' friends 
 would pooh-pooh this notion ; but I am sure that the colony 
 altogether, when arrived to a state that would bear the impor- 
 tation, would thrive all the better for it. And when the day 
 shall come (as to all healthful colonies it must come sooner or 
 later) in which the settlement has grown an independent state, 
 we may thereby have laid the seeds of a constitution and a 
 civilization similar to our own, with self-developed forms of 
 monarchy and aristocracy, though of a simpler growth than 
 old societies accept, and not left a strange, motley chaos of 
 struggling democracy an uncouth, livid giant, at which the 
 Frankenstein may well tremble, not because it is a giant, but 
 because it is a giant half completed.* Depend on it, the New 
 World will be friendly or hostile to the Old, not in proportion 
 to the kinship of race, but in proportion to the similarity of man- 
 ners and institutions a mighty truth to which we colonizers 
 have been blind. 
 
 " Passing from these more distant speculations to this posi- 
 tive present before us, you see already, from what I have said, 
 that I sympathize with your aspirations ; that I construe them 
 as you would have me ; looking to your nature and to your 
 objects, I give you my advice in a word EMIGRATE ! 
 
 * These pages were sent to press_ before the author had seen Mr. Wakefield's recent 
 work on Colonization, wherein the views here expressed are enforced with great earnest- 
 ness and conspicuous sagacity. The author is not the less pleased at this coincidence of 
 opinion, because he has the misfortune to dissent from certain other parts of Mr. Wake- 
 field's elaborate theory.
 
 298 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " My advice is, however, founded on one hypothesis, viz., 
 that you are perfectly sincere you will be contented with a 
 rough life, and with a moderate fortune at the end of your 
 probation. Don't dream of emigrating if you want to make 
 a million, or the tenth part of a million. Don't dream of 
 emigrating, unless you can enjoy its hardships to bear them 
 is not enough ! 
 
 "Australia is the land for you, as you seem to surmise. 
 Australia is the land for two classes of emigrants: First, The 
 man who has nothing but his wits, and plenty of them ; 
 Secondly, The man who has a small capital, and who is con- 
 tented to spend ten years in trebling it. I assume that you 
 belong to the latter class. Take out ^3000, and, before you 
 are thirty years old, you may return with ^10,000 or ^12,000. 
 If that satisfies you, think seriously of Australia. By coach, 
 to-morrow, I will send you down all the best books and 
 reports on the subject ; and I will get you what detailed in- 
 formation I can from the Colonial Office. Having read these, 
 and thought over them dispassionately, spend some months 
 yet among the sheep-walks of Cumberland; learn all you 
 can from all the shepherds you can find from Thyrsis to 
 Menalcas. Do more ; fit yourself in every way for a life in 
 the Bush, where the philosophy of the division of labor is not 
 yet arrived at. Learn to turn your hand to everything. Be 
 something of a smith, something of a carpenter do the best 
 you can with the fewest tools ; make yourself an excellent 
 shot ; break in all the wild horses and ponies you can borrow 
 and beg. Even if you want to do none of these things when 
 in your settlement, the having learned to do them will fit you 
 for many other things not now foreseen. De-fine-gentlewanize 
 yourself from the crown of your head to the sole of your foot, 
 and become the greater aristocrat for so doing ; for he is 
 more than an aristocrat, he is a king, who suffices in all things 
 for himself ; who is his own master, because he wants no 
 valetaille. I think Seneca has expressed that thought before 
 me ; and I would quote the passage, but the book, I fear, is 
 not in the library of the House of Commons. But now 
 
 (cheers, by Jove ! I suppose is down ! Ah ! it is so ; and 
 
 C is up, and that cheer followed a sharp hit at me. How 
 
 I wish I were your age, and going to Australia with you !) 
 But now to resume my suspended period but now to the 
 important point capital. You must take that, unless you go 
 as a shepherd, and then good-by to the idea of ; 10,000 in ten 
 years. So, you see, it appears at the first blush that you must
 
 THE CAXTONS. 299 
 
 still come to your father ; but, you will say, with this difference, 
 that you borrow the capital with every chance of repaying it 
 instead of frittering away the income year after year till you 
 are eight-and-thirty or forty at least. Still, Pisistratus, you 
 don't, in this, gain your object at a leap ; and my dear old 
 friend ought not to lose his son and his money too. You say 
 you write to me as to your own father. You know I hate 
 professions ; and if you did not mean what you say, you have 
 offended me mortally. As a father, then, I take a father's 
 rights, and speak plainly. A friend of mine, Mr. Holding, a 
 clergyman, has a son a wild fellow, who is likely to get into 
 all sorts of scrapes in England, but with plenty of good in him, 
 notwithstanding frank, bold, not wanting in talent, but rather 
 in prudence, easily tempted and led away into extravagance. He 
 would make a capital colonist (no such temptations in the 
 Bush !) if tied to a youth like you. Now I propose, with your 
 leave, that his father shall advance him ^1500, which shall not, 
 however, be placed in his hands, but in yours, as head partner 
 in the firm. You, on your side, shall advance the same sum 
 of ^1500, which you shall borrow from me, for three years 
 without interest. At the end of that time interest shall 
 commence, and the capital, with the interest on the said first 
 three years, shall be repaid to me, or my executors, on your 
 return. After you have been a year or two in the Bush, and 
 felt your way, and learned your business, you may then safely 
 borrow ^1500 more from your father; and, in the mean while, 
 you and your partner will have had together the full sum of 
 ^3000 to commence with. You see in this proposal I make you 
 no gift, and I run no risk, even by your death. If you die in- 
 solvent, I will promise to come on your father, poor fellow ! 
 for small joy and small care will he have then in what may be 
 left of his fortune. There I have said all ; and I will never 
 forgive you if you reject an aid that will serve you so much, 
 and cost me so little. 
 
 " I accept your congratulations on Fanny's engagement 
 with Lord Castleton. When you return from Australia you 
 will still be a young man, she (though about your own years) 
 almost a middle-aged woman, with her head full of pomps and 
 vanities. All girls have a short period of girlhood in com- 
 mon ; but when they enter womanhood, the woman becomes 
 the woman of her class. As for me, and the office assigned to 
 me by report, you know what I said when we parted, and 
 
 but here J comes, and tells me that ' I am expected to 
 
 speak, and answer N , who is just up, brimful of malice/
 
 300 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 the House crowded, and hungering for personalities. So I, 
 the man of the Old World, gird up my loins, and leave you 
 with a sigh, to the fresh youth of the New 
 
 ' Ne tibi sit duros acuisse in prcelia dentes.' 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " ALBERT TREVANION." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 So, reader, thou art now at the secret of my heart. 
 
 Wonder not that I, a bookman's son, and, at certain periods 
 of my life, a bookman myself, though of lowly grade in that 
 venerable class wonder not that I should thus, in that 
 transition stage between youth and manhood, have turned 
 impatiently from books. Most students, at one time or other 
 in their existence, have felt the imperious demand of that 
 restless principle in man's nature, which calls upon each son 
 of Adam to contribute his share to the vast treasury of human 
 deeds. And though great scholars are not necessarily, nor 
 usually, men of action, yet the men of action whom History 
 presents to our survey have rarely been without a certain 
 degree of scholarly nurture. For the ideas which books quicken, 
 books cannot always satisfy. And though the royal pupil of 
 Aristotle slept with Homer under his pillow, it was not that he 
 might dream of composing epics, but of conquering new Ilions 
 in the East. Many a man, how little soever resembling Alex- 
 ander, may still have the conqueror's aim in an object that 
 action only can achieve, and the book under his pillow may be 
 the strongest antidote to his repose. And how the stern 
 Destinies that shall govern the man weave their first delicate 
 tissues amidst the earliest associations of the child ! Those idle 
 tales with which the old credulous nurse had beguiled my 
 infancy tales of wonder, knight-errantry, and adventure 
 had left behind them seeds long latent seeds that might 
 never have sprung up above the soil, but that my boyhood 
 was so early put under the burning-glass, and in the quick 
 forcing-house, of the London world. There, even amidst 
 books and study, lively observation and petulant ambition 
 broke forth from the lush foliage of romance, that fruitless 
 leafiness of poetic youth ! And their passion, which is a revo- 
 lution in all the elements of individual man, had called a new 
 state of being, turbulent and eager, out of the old habits and 
 conventional forms it had buried ashes that speak where the
 
 THE CAXTONS. 301 
 
 fire has been. Far from me, as from any mind of some manli- 
 ness, be the attempt to create interest by dwelling at length 
 on the struggles against a rash and misplaced attachment, 
 which it was my duty to overcome ; but all such love, as I 
 have before implied, is a terrible unsettler : 
 
 " Where once such fairies dance, no grass doth ever grow." 
 
 To re-enter boyhood, go with meek docility through its dis- 
 ciplined routine how hard had I found that return, amidst 
 the cloistered monotony of college ! My love for my father, 
 and my submission to his wish, had indeed given some anima- 
 tion to objects otherwise distasteful ; but, now that my return 
 to the University must be attended with positive privation to 
 those at home, the idea became utterly hateful and repugnant. 
 Under pretence that I found myself, on trial, not yet sufficiently 
 prepared to do credit to my father's name, I had easily obtained 
 leave to lose the ensuing college term, and pursue my studies 
 at home. This gave me time to prepare my plans, and bring 
 round how shall I ever bring round to my adventurous views 
 those whom I propose to desert ? Hard it is to get on in the 
 world very hard ! But the most painful step in the way is 
 that which starts from the threshold of a beloved home. 
 
 How ah, how, indeed ! " No, Blanche, you cannot join 
 me to-day ; I am going out for many hours. So it will be late 
 before I can be home." 
 
 Home ! the word chokes me ! Juba slinks back to his 
 young mistress, disconsolate ; Blanche gazes at me ruefully 
 from our favorite hill-top, and the flowers she has been gather- 
 ing fall unheeded from her basket. I hear my mother's voice 
 singing low, as she sits at work by her open casement. How 
 ah, how, indeed ! 
 
 PART THIRTEENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ST. CHRYSOSTOM, in his work on The Priesthood, defends 
 deceit, if for a good purpose, by many Scriptural examples ; 
 ends his first book by asserting that it is often necessary, and 
 that much benefit may arise from it ; and begins his second
 
 *<52 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 book by saying that it ought not to be called deceit, but 
 "good management." * 
 
 Good management, then, let me call the innocent arts by 
 which I now sought to insinuate my project into favor and 
 assent with my unsuspecting family. At first I began with 
 Roland. I easily induced him to read some of the books, full 
 of the charm of Australian life, which Trevanion had sent me ; 
 and, so happily did those descriptions suit his own erratic 
 tastes, and the free, half-savage man that lay rough and large 
 within that soldierly nature, that he himself, as it were, seemed 
 to suggest my own ardent desire sighed, as the careworn 
 Trevanion had done, that " he was not my age," and blew the 
 flame that consumed me with his own willing breath. So that 
 when at last wandering one day over the wild moors I said, 
 knowing his hatred of law and lawyers : 
 
 " Alas, uncle, that nothing should be left for me but the 
 bar ! " 
 
 Captain Roland struck his cane into the peat, and exclaimed : 
 " Zounds, sir ! the bar and lying, with truth and a world fresh 
 from God before you ! " 
 
 " Your hand, uncle we understand each other. Now help 
 me with those two quiet hearts at home ! " 
 
 " Plague on my tongue ! what have I done ?" said the Cap- 
 tain, looking aghast. Then, after musing a little time, he 
 turned his dark eye on me, and growled out : " I suspect, 
 young sir, you have been laying a trap for me ; and I have 
 fallen into it, like an old fool as I am." 
 
 " Oh, sir, if you prefer the bar ! " 
 
 " Rogue ! " 
 
 " Or, indeed, I might perhaps get a clerkship in a mer- 
 chant's office ? " 
 
 " If you do, I will scratch you out of the pedigree !" 
 
 " Huzza, then, for Australasia ! " 
 
 " Well, well, well," said my uncle, 
 
 " With a smile on his lip, and a tear in his eye " ; 
 
 "the old sea-king's blood will force its way a soldier or a 
 rover, there is no other choice for you. We shall mourn and 
 miss you ; but who can chain the young eagles to the eyrie?" 
 I had a harder task with my father, who at first seemed to 
 listen to me as if I had been talking of an excursion to the 
 moon. But I threw in a dexterous dose of the old Greek 
 Cleruchix cited by Trevanion which set him off full trot on 
 
 * Hohler's Translation.
 
 tfcfc CAX.TONS. 303 
 
 his hobby, till after a short excursion to Euboea and the Cher- 
 sonese, he was fairly lost amidst the Ionian colonies of Asia 
 Minor. I then gradually and artfully decoyed him into his 
 favorite science of Ethnology ; and, while he was speculating 
 on the origin of the American savages, and considering the 
 rival claims of Cimmerians, Israelites, and Scandinavians, I 
 said quietly : " And you, sir, who think that all human im- 
 provement depends on the mixture of races you, whose whole 
 theory is an absolute sermon upon emigration, and the trans- 
 planting and interpolity of our species you, sir, should be the 
 last man to chain your son, your elder son, to the soil, while 
 your younger is the very missionary of rovers." 
 
 " Pisistratus," said my father, " you reason by synecdoche 
 ornamental but illogical "; and therewith, resolved to hear no 
 more, my father rose and retreated into his study. 
 
 But his observation, now quickened, began from that day to 
 follow my moods and humors ; then he himself grew silent 
 and thoughtful, and finally he took to long conferences with 
 Roland. The result was, that one evening in spring, as I lay 
 listless amidst the weeds and fern that sprang up through the 
 melancholy ruins, I felt a hand on my shoulder ; and my 
 father, seating himself beside me on a fragment of stone, said 
 earnestly : " Pisistratus, let us talk I had hoped better things 
 from your study of Robert Hall." 
 
 " Nay, dear father, the medicine did me great good : I have 
 not repined since, and I look steadfastly and cheerfully on 
 life. But Robert Hall fulfilled his mission, and I would fulfil 
 mine." 
 
 " Is there no mission in thy native land, O planeticose and 
 exallotriote spirit ? " * asked my father, with compassionate 
 rebuke. 
 
 " Alas, yes ! But what the impulse of genius is to the great, 
 the instinct of vocation is to the mediocre. In every man 
 there is a magnet ; in that thing which the man can do best 
 there is a loadstone." 
 
 " Papse ! " said my father, opening his eyes ; " and are no 
 loadstones to be found for you nearer than the Great Austral- 
 asian Bight ? " 
 
 " Ah, sir, if you resort to irony I can say no more ! " My 
 father looked down on me tenderly, as I hung my head, moody 
 and abashed. 
 
 " Son," said he, " do you think that there is any real jest at 
 
 * Words coined by Mr. Caxton from irXaVTfTtKdf , disposed to roaming, an 
 to export, to alienate.
 
 304 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 my heart, when the matter discussed is whether you are to put 
 wide seas and long years between us ? " I pressed nearer to his 
 side, and made no answer. 
 
 " But I have noted you of late," continued my father, " and 
 I have observed that your old studies are grown distasteful to 
 you ; and I have talked with Roland, and I see that your 
 desire is deeper than a boy's mere whim. And then I have 
 asked myself what prospect I can hold out at home to induce 
 you to be contented here, and I see none ; and therefore I 
 should say to you, ' Go thy ways, and God shield thee ' but 
 Pisistratus, your mother ! " 
 
 " Ah, sir, that is indeed the question ! and there indeed I 
 shrink. But, after all, whatever I were whether toiling at 
 the bar, or in some public office I should be still so much from 
 home and her. And then you, sir she loves you so entirely, 
 that" 
 
 " No," interrupted my father ; " you can advance no argu- 
 ments like these to touch a mother's heart. There is but one 
 argument that comes home there is it for your good to leave 
 her ? If so, there will be no need of further words. But let 
 us not decide that question hastily ; let you and I be together 
 the next two months. Bring your books and sit with me ; 
 when you want to go out, tap me on the shoulder, and say 
 ' Come.' At the end of those two months I will say to you 
 ' Go,' or ' Stay.' And you will trust rne ; and if I say the last, 
 you will submit?" 
 
 " Oh yes, sir yes ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THIS compact made, my father roused himself from all his 
 studies devoted his whole thoughts to me sought with all 
 his gentle wisdom to wean me imperceptibly from my one fixed, 
 tyrannical idea, ranged through his wide pharmacy of books 
 for such medicaments as might alter the system of my thoughts. 
 And little thought he that his very tenderness and wisdom 
 worked against him, for at each new instance of either my 
 heart called aloud : " Is it not that thy tenderness may be 
 repaid, and thy wisdom be known abroad, that I go from thee 
 into the strange land, O my father ! " 
 
 And the two months expired, and my father saw that the 
 magnet had turned unalterably to the loadstone in the great 
 Australasian Bight ; and he said to me : " Go, and comfort
 
 THE CAXTONS. 305 
 
 your mother. I have told her your wish, and authorized it by 
 my consent, for I believe now that it is for your good." 
 
 I found my mother in the little room she had appropriated 
 to herself next my father's study. And in that room there was 
 a pathos which I have no words to express ; for my mother's 
 meek, gentle, womanly soul spoke there, so that it was the 
 Home of Home. The care with which she had transplanted 
 from the brick house, and lovingly arranged, all the humble 
 memorials of old times, dear to her affections the black sil- 
 houette of my father's profile cut in paper, in the full pomp of 
 academics, cap and gown (how had he ever consented to sit 
 for it !), framed and glazed in the place of honor over the little 
 hearth ; and boyish sketches of mine at the Hellenic Institute, 
 first essays in sepia and Indian ink, to animate the walls, and 
 bring her back, when she sat there in the twilight musing alone, 
 to sunny hours, when Sisty and the young mother threw daisies 
 at each other ; and, covered with a great glass shade, and 
 dusted each day with her own hand, the flower-pot Sisty had 
 bought with the proceeds of the domino-box, on that memo- 
 rable occasion on which he had learned " how bad deeds are 
 repaired with good." There, in one corner, stood the little 
 cottage piano, which I remembered all my life old-fashioned, 
 and with the jingling voice of approaching decrepitude, but 
 still associated with such melodies as, after childhood, we hear 
 never more ! And in the modest hanging shelves, which 
 looked so gay with ribbons, and tassels, and silken cords, my 
 mother's own library, saying more to the heart than all the 
 cold, wise poets whose souls my father invoked in his grand 
 Heraclea. The Bible over which, with eyes yet untaught to 
 read, I had hung in vague awe and love, as it lay open on my 
 mother's lap, while her sweet voice, then only serious, was 
 made the oracle of its truths. And my first lesson-books were 
 there, all hoarded. And bound in blue and gold, but elabo- 
 rately papered up, " Cowper's Poems " a gift from my father 
 in the days of courtship sacred treasure, which not even I 
 had the privilege to touch ; and which my mother took out 
 only in the great crosses and trials of conjugal life, whenever 
 some words less kind than usual had dropped unawares from 
 her scholar's absent lips. Ah ! all these poor household gods, 
 all seemed to look on me with mild anger ; and from all came a 
 voice to my soul : "Cruel, dost thou forsake us ! And amongst 
 them sat my mother, desolate as Rachel, and weeping silently. 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! " I cried, falling on her neck, " forgive 
 me it is past I cannot leave you ! "
 
 306 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 No no it is for your good Austin says so. Go it is 
 but the first shock." 
 
 Then to my mother I opened the sluices of that deep I had 
 concealed from scholar and soldier. To her I poured all the 
 wild, restless thoughts which wandered through the ruins of 
 love destroyed to her I confessed what to myself I had 
 scarcely before avowed. And when the picture of that, the 
 darker, side of my mind, was shown, it was with a prouder 
 face, and less broken voice, that I spoke of the manlier hopes 
 and nobler aims that gleamed across the wrecks and the desert, 
 and showed me my escape. 
 
 " Did you not once say, mother, that you had felt it like a 
 remorse, that my father's genius passed so noiselessly away 
 half accusing the happiness you gave him for the c^ath of his 
 ambition in the content of his mind ? Did you not feel a new 
 object in life when the ambition revived at last, and you 
 thought you heard the applause of the world murmuring round 
 your scholar's cell ? Did you not share in the day-dreams 
 your brother conjured up, and exclaim : ' If my brother could 
 be the means of raising him in the world ! ' and when you 
 thought we had found the way to fame and fortune, did you 
 not sob out from your full heart : ' And it is my brother who 
 will pay back to his son all all he gave up for me ' ? " 
 
 " I cannot bear this, Sisty ! cease, cease ! " 
 
 " No ; for you do not yet understand me ? Will it not be 
 better still, if your son yours restore to your Austin all that 
 he lost, no matter how ? If through your son, mother, you do 
 indeed make the world hear of your husband's genius restore 
 the spring to his mind, the glory to his pursuits if you rebuild 
 even that vaunted ancestral name, which is glory to our poor 
 sonle. av . Roland if your son can restore the decay of genera- 
 tions, and reconstruct from the dust the whole house into which 
 you have entered, its meek presiding angel ? ah, mother ! if 
 this can be done it will be your work ; for unless you can 
 share my ambition, unless you can dry those eyes, and smile 
 in my face, and bid me go, with a cheerful voice all my cour- 
 age melts from my heart, and again I say, I cannot leave 
 you ! " 
 
 Then my mother folded her arms round me, and we both 
 wept, and could not speak but we were both happy.
 
 THE CAXTONS. $07 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Now the worst was over, and my mother was the most 
 heroic of us all. So I began to prepare myself in good earnest, 
 and I followed Trevanion's instructions with a perseverance 
 which I had never, at that young day, have thrown into the 
 dead life of books. I was in a good school, amongst our 
 Cumberland sheep-walks, to learn those simple elements of 
 rural art which belong to the pastoral state. Mr. Sidney, in 
 his admirable " Australian Hand-Book," recommends young 
 gentlemen who think of becoming settlers in the Bush to 
 bivouac for three months on Salisbury Plain. That book was 
 not then written, or I might have taken the advice ; meanwhile 
 I think, with due respect to such authority, that I went through 
 a preparatory training quite as useful in seasoning the future 
 emigrant. I associated readily with the kindly peasants and 
 craftsmen, who became my teachers. With what pride I pre- 
 sented my father with a desk, and my mother with a work-box, 
 fashioned by my own hands ! I made Bolt a lock for his plate- 
 chest, and (that last was my magnum opus, my great master- 
 piece) I repaired and absolutely set going an old turret-clock 
 in the tower, that had stood at 2 P.M. since the memory of 
 man. I loved to think, each time the hour sounded, that those 
 who heard its deep chime would remember me. But the 
 flocks were my main care. The sheep that I tended and helped 
 to shear, and the lamb that I hooked out of the great marsh, 
 and the three venerable ewes that I nursed through a myste- 
 rious sort of murrain, which puzzled all the neighborhood are 
 they not written in thy loving chronicles, O House of Caxton ! 
 And now, since much of the success of my experiment must 
 depend on the friendly terms I could establish with my intended 
 partner, I wrote to Trevanion, begging him to get the young 
 gentleman who was to join me, and whose capital I was to 
 administer, to come and visit us. Trevanion complied, and 
 there arrived a tall fellow, somewhat more than six feet high, 
 answering to the name of Guy Bolding, in a cutaway sporting- 
 coat, with a dog-whistle tied to the button-hole ; drab shorts 
 and gaiters, and a waistcoat with all manner of strange, furtive 
 pockets. Guy Bolding had lived a year and a half at Oxford 
 as a "fast man"; so ''fast" had he lived that there v-a* 
 scarcely a tradesman at Oxford into whose books he had no* 
 contrived to run. 
 
 His father was compelled to withdraw him from tbff vM-
 
 305 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 versity, at which he had already had the honor of being 
 plucked for "the little go"; and the young gentleman, on 
 being asked for what profession he was fit, had replied with 
 conscious pride, " That he could tool a coach ! " In despair, 
 the sire, who owed his living to Trevanion, had asked the 
 statesman's advice, and the advice had fixed me with a partner 
 in expatriation. 
 
 My first feeling, in greeting the "fast " man, was certainly 
 that of deep disappointment and strong repugnance. But I was 
 determined not to be too fastidious ; and, having a lucky 
 knack of suiting myself pretty well to all tempers (without 
 which a man had better not think of loadstones in the great 
 Australiasian Bight), I contrived before the first week was 
 out to establish so many points of connection betwen us, that 
 we became the best friends in the world. Indeed, it would 
 have been my fault if we had not, for Guy Bolding, with all his 
 faults, was one of those excellent creatures who are nobody's 
 enemies but their own. His good-humor was inexhaustible. 
 Not a hardship or privation came amiss to him. He had a 
 phrase " Such fun ! " that always rushed laughingly to his lips 
 when another man would have cursed and groaned. If we lost 
 our way in the great trackless moors, missed our dinner, and 
 were half-famished, Guy rubbed hands that would have felled 
 an ox, and chuckled out " Such fun ! " If we stuck in a bog, 
 if we were caught in a thunderstorm, if we were pitched head- 
 over-heels by the wild colts we undertook to break in, Guy 
 Bolding's sole elegy was " Such fun ! " That grand shibboleth 
 of philosophy only forsook him at the sight of an open book. 
 I don't think that, at that time, he could have found " fun " 
 even in Don Quixote. This hilarious temperament had no 
 insensibility ; a kinder heart never beat but, to be sure, it 
 beat to a strange, restless, tarantula sort of measure, which 
 kept it in a perpetual dance. It made him one of those offi- 
 ciously good fellows, who are never quiet themselves, and never 
 let any one else be quiet if they can help it. But Guy's great 
 fault, in this prudent world, was his absolute incontinence of 
 money. If you had turned a Euphrates of gold into his 
 pockets at morning, it would have been as dry as the great 
 Sahara by twelve at noon. What he did with the money was a 
 mystery as much to himself as to every one else. His father 
 said, in a letter to me, that " he had seen him shying at spar- 
 rows with half-crowns ! " That such a young man could come 
 to no good in England seemed perfectly clear. Still, it is 
 recorded of many great men, who did not end their days in a
 
 THE CAXTONS. 309 
 
 workhouse, that they were equally non-retentive of money. 
 Schiller, when he had nothing else to give away, gave the 
 clothes from his back, and Goldsmith the blankets from his 
 bed. Tender hands found it necessary to pick Beethoven's 
 pockets at home before he walked out. Great heroes, who 
 have made no scruple of robbing the whole world, have been 
 just as lavish as poor poets and musicians. Alexander, in 
 parcelling out his spoils, left himself "hope"! And as for 
 Julius Caesar, he was two millions in debt when he shied his 
 last half-crown at the sparrows in Gaul. Encouraged by these 
 illustrious examples, I had hopes of Guy Holding ; and the 
 more as he was so aware of his own infirmity that he was per- 
 fectly contented with the arrangement which made me treas- 
 urer of his capital, and even besought me, on no account, let 
 him beg ever so hard, to permit his own money to come in his 
 own way. In fact, I contrived to gain a great ascendency 
 over his simple, generous, thoughtless nature ; and by artful 
 appeals to his affections to all he owed to his father for many 
 bootless sacrifices, and to the duty of providing a little dower 
 for his infant sister, whose meditated portion had half gone to 
 pay his college debts I at last succeeded in fixing into his 
 mind an object to save for. 
 
 Three other companions did I select for our Cleruchia. The 
 first was the son of our old shepherd, who had lately married, 
 but was not yet encumbered with children a good shepherd, 
 and an intelligent, steady fellow. The second was a very dif- 
 ferent character ; he had been the dread of the whole squire- 
 archy. A more bold and dexterous poacher did not exist. 
 Now my acquaintance with this latter person, named Will 
 Peterson, and more popularly " Will o' the Wisp," had com- 
 menced thus : Bolt had managed to rear in a small copse 
 about a mile from the house, and which was the only bit of 
 ground in my uncle's domains that might by courtesy be called 
 "a wood," a young colony of pheasants, that he dignified by 
 the title of a " preserve." This colony was audaciously de- 
 spoiled and grievously depopulated, in spite of two watchers, 
 who, with Bolt, guarded for seven nights successively the 
 slumbers of the infant settlement. So insolent was the assault 
 that bang, bang went the felonious gun behind, before 
 within but a few yards of the sentinels and the gunner was 
 off, and the prey seized, before they could rush to the spot. 
 The boldness and skill of the enemy soon proclaimed him, to 
 the experienced watchers, to be Will o' the Wisp : and so great 
 was their dread of this fellow's strength and courage, and so
 
 310 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 complete their despair of being a match for his swiftness and 
 cunning, that after the seventh night the watchers refused to 
 go out any longer ; and poor Bolt himself was confined to his 
 bed by an attack of what the doctor would have called rheum- 
 atism, and a moralist, rage. My indignation and sympathy 
 were greatly excited by this mortifying failure, and my inter- 
 est romantically aroused by the anecdotes I had heard of Will 
 o' the Wisp ; accordingly, armed with a thick bludgeon, I 
 stole out at night, and took my way to the copse. The leaves 
 were not off the trees, and how the poacher contrived to see 
 his victims I know not ; but five shots did he fire, and not in 
 vain, without allowing me to catch a glimpse of him. I then 
 retreated to the outskirts of the copse, and waited patiently 
 by an angle, which commanded two sides of the wood. Just 
 as the dawn began to peep, I saw my man emerge within 
 twenty yards of me. I held my breath, suffered him to get a 
 few steps from the wood, crept on so as to intercept his retreat, 
 and then pounce such a bound ! My hand was on his 
 shoulder prr, prr, no eel was ever more lubricate. He slid 
 from me like a thing immaterial, and was off over the moors 
 with a swiftness which might well have baffled any clod-hop- 
 per a race whose calves are generally absorbed in the soles 
 of their hobnail shoes. But the Hellenic Institute, with its 
 classical gymnasia, had trained its pupils in all bodily exer- 
 cises ; and though the Will o' the Wisp was swift for a clod- 
 hopper, he was no match at running for any youth who had 
 spent his boyhood in the discipline of cricket, prisoner's bar, 
 and hunt-the-hare. I reached him at length and brought him 
 to bay. 
 
 " Stand back ! " said he, panting, and taking aim with his 
 gun : "it is loaded." 
 
 " Yes," said I ; " but though you're a brave poacher, you dare 
 not fire at your fellow-man. Give up the gun this instant." 
 
 My address took him by surprise ; he did not fire. I struck 
 up the barrel and closed on him. We grappled pretty tightly, 
 and in the wrestle the gun went off. The man loosened his 
 hold. " Lord ha' mercy ! I have not hurt you ? " he said fal- 
 teringly. 
 
 " My good fellow no," said I ; " and now let us throw 
 aside gun and bludgeon, and fight it out like Englishmen, or 
 else let us sit down and talk over it like friends." 
 
 The Will o' the Wisp scratched its head and laughed. 
 
 "Well, you're a queer one ! "quoth it. And the poacher 
 dropped the gun and sat down.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 311 
 
 We did talk it over, and I obtained Peterson's promise to 
 respect the preserve henceforth ; and we thereon grew so cor- 
 dial that he walked home with me, and even presented me, 
 shyly and apologetically, with the five pheasants he had shot. 
 From that time I sought him out. He was a young fellow 
 not four and twenty, who had taken to poaching from the wild 
 sport of the thing, and from some confused notions that he 
 had a license from Nature to poach. I soon found out that 
 he was meant for better things than to spend six months of 
 the twelve in prison, and finish his life on the gallows after 
 killing a gamekeeper. That seemed to me his most probable 
 destiny in the Old World, so I talked him into a burning 
 desire for the New one : and a most valuable aid in the Bush 
 he proved too. 
 
 My third selection was in a personage who could bring little 
 physical strength to help us, but who had more mind (though 
 with a wrong twist in it) than both the others put together. 
 
 A worthy couple in the village had a son, who being slight 
 and puny, compared to the Cumberland breed, was shouldered 
 out of the market of agricultural labor, and went off, yet a 
 boy, to a manufacturing town. Now about the age of thirty, 
 this mechanic, disabled for his work by a long illness, came 
 home to recover ; and in a short time we heard of nothing but 
 the pestilential doctrines with which he was either shocking or 
 infecting our primitive villagers. According to report, Cor- 
 cyra itself never engendered a democrat more awful. The 
 poor man was really very ill, and his parents very poor ; but 
 his unfortunate doctrines dried up all the streams of charity 
 that usually flowed through our kindly hamlet. The clergy- 
 man (an excellent man, but of the old school) walked by the 
 house as if it were tabooed. The apothecary said : " Miles 
 Square ought to have wine"; but he did not send him any. 
 The farmers held his name in execration, for he had incited 
 all their laborers to strike for another shilling a week. And 
 but for the old Tower, Miles Square would soon have found 
 his way to the only republic in which he could obtain that 
 democratic fraternization for which he s*ighed the grave 
 being, I suspect, the sole commonwealth which attains that 
 dead flat of social equality, that life in its every principle so 
 heartily abhors. 
 
 My uncle went to see Miles Square, and came back the 
 color of purple. Miles Square had preached him a long 
 sermon on the unholiness of war. " Even in defence of your 
 king and country!" had roared the Captain: and Miles
 
 312 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Square had replied with a remark upon kings in general, that 
 the Captain could not have repeated without expecting to see 
 the old Tower fail about his ears ; and with an observation 
 about the country in particular, to the effect that " the country 
 would be much better off if it were conquered ! " On hearing 
 the report of these loyal and patriotic replies, my father said, 
 " Papae ! " and, roused out of his usual philosophical indif- 
 ference, went himself to visit Miles Square. My father re- 
 turned as pale as my uncle had been purple. " And to think," 
 said he mournfully, " that in the town whence this man comes, 
 there are, he tells me, ten thousand other of God's creatures 
 who speed the work of civilization while execrating its laws ! " 
 But neither father nor uncle made any opposition when, 
 with a basket laden with wine and arrow-root, and a neat little 
 Bible, bound in brown, my mother took her way to the excom- 
 municated cottage. Her visit was as signal a failure as those 
 that preceded it. Miles Square refused the basket ; " he was 
 not going to accept alms, and eat the bread of charity "; and 
 on my mother meekly suggesting that, " if Mr. Miles Square 
 would condescend to look into the Bible, he would see that 
 even charity was no sin in giver or recipient," Mr. Miles 
 Square had undertaken to prove " that, according to the Bible, 
 he had as much a right to my mother's property as she had ; 
 that all things should be in common ; and when things were 
 in common, what became of charity ? No ; he could not 
 eat my uncle's arrow-root, and drink his wine, while my 
 uncle was improperly withholding from him and his fel- 
 low-creatures so many unprofitable acres : the land belonged 
 to the people." It was now the turn of Pisistratus to go. He 
 went once, and he went often. Miles Square and Pisistratus 
 wrangled and argued argued and wrangled and ended by 
 taking a fancy to each other ; for this poor Miles Square was 
 not half so bad as his doctrines. His errors arose from intense 
 sympathy with the sufferings he had witnessed, amidst the 
 misery which accompanies the reign of millocratism, and from 
 the vague aspirations of a half-taught, impassioned, earnest 
 nature. By degrees, I persuaded him to drink the wine and 
 eat the arrow-root, en attendant that millennium which was to 
 restore the land to the people. And then my mother came 
 again and softened his heart, and, for the first time in his life, 
 let into its cold crotchets the warm light of human gratitude. 
 I lent him some books, amongst others a few volumes on 
 Australia. A passage in one of the latter, in which it was 
 said " that an intelligent mechanic usually made his way in the
 
 THE CAXTONS. 313 
 
 tolony, even as a shepherd, better than a dull agricultural 
 laborer," caught hold of his fancy, and seduced his aspirations 
 into a healthful direction. Finally, as he recovered, he en- 
 treated me to let him accompany me. And as I may not have 
 to return to Miles Square, I think it right here to state, that 
 he did go with me to Australia, and did succeed, first as a 
 shepherd, next as a superintendant, and finally, on saving 
 money, as a landowner ; and that, in spite of his opinions of 
 the unholiness of war, he was no sooner in possession of a 
 comfortable log homestead, than he defended it with uncom- 
 mon gallantry against an attack of the aborigines, whose right 
 to the soil was, to say the least of it, as good as his claim to 
 my uncle's acres ; that he commemorated his subsequent 
 acquisition of a fresh allotment, with the stock on it, by a little 
 pamphlet, published at Sydney, on the " Sanctity of the Rights 
 of Property"; and that, when I left the colony, having been 
 much pestered by two refractory " helps " that he had added to 
 his establishment, he had just distinguished himself by a very 
 anti-levelling lecture upon the duties of servants to their 
 employers. What would the Old World have done for this 
 man ! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I HAD not been in haste to conclude my arrangements, for, 
 independently of my wish to render myself acquainted with the 
 small useful crafts that might be necessary to me in a life that 
 makes the individual man a state in himself, I naturally desired 
 to habituate my kindred to the idea of our separation, and to 
 plan and provide for them all such substitutes or distractions, 
 in compensation for my ioss, as my fertile imagination could 
 suggest. At first, for the sake of Blanche, Roland, and my 
 mother, I talked the Captain into reluctant sanction of his 
 sister-in-law's proposal, to unite their incomes and share alike, 
 without considering which party brought the larger proportion 
 into the firm. I represented to him that, unless he made that 
 sacrifice of his pride, my mother would be wholly without those 
 little notable uses and objects those small household plea- 
 sures so dear to woman ; that all society in the neighbor- 
 hood would be impossible, and that my mother's time would 
 hang so heavily on her hands, that her only resource would be 
 to muse on the absent one and fret. Nay, if he persisted in 
 so false a pride, I told him, fairly, that I should urge my father 
 to leave the Tower. These representations succeeded, and 
 hospitality had commenced in the old hall, and a knot of
 
 314 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 gossips had centred round my mother ; groups of laughing 
 children had relaxed the still brow of Blanche, and the Captain 
 himself was a more cheerful and social man. My next point 
 was to engage my father in the completion of the Great Book. 
 " Ah, sir," said I, "give me an inducement to toil, a reward 
 for my industry. Let me think, in each tempting pleasure, 
 each costly vice ' No, no ; I will save for the Great Book ! 
 and the memory of the father shall still keep the son from 
 error.' Ah, look you, sir ! Mr. Trevanion offered me the loan 
 of the ^1500 necessary to commence with ; but you gener- 
 ously and at once said : ' No ; you must not begin life under 
 the load of debt.' And I knew you were right and yielded 
 yielded the more gratefully that I could not but forfeit some- 
 thing of the just pride of manhood in incurring such an obliga- 
 tion to the father of Miss Trevanion. Therefore I have 
 taken that sum from you a sum that would almost have suf- 
 ficed to establish your younger and worthier child in the world 
 forever. To that child let me repay it, otherwise I will not 
 take it. Let me hold it as a trust for the Great Book ; and 
 promise me that the Great Book shall be ready when your 
 wanderer returns, and accounts for the missing talent." 
 
 And my father pished a little, and rubbed off the dew that 
 had gathered on his spectacles. But I would not leave him in 
 peace till he had given me his word that the Great Book should 
 go on a pas du geant nay, till I had seen him sit down to it 
 with good heart, and the wheel went round again in the quiet 
 mechanism of that gentle life. 
 
 Finally, and as the culminating acme of my diplomacy, I ef- 
 fected the purchase of the neighboring apothecary's practice and 
 good-will for Squills, upon terms which he willingly subscribed 
 to ; for the poor man had pined at the loss of his favorite 
 patients, though, Heaven knows, they did not add much to his 
 income. And as for my father, there was no man who diverted 
 him more than Squills, though he accused him of being a 
 materialist, and set his whole spiritual pack of sages to worry 
 and bark at him from Plato and Zeno to Reid and Abraham 
 Tucker. 
 
 Thus, although I have very loosely intimated the flight of 
 time, more than a whole year elapsed from the date of our 
 settlement at the Tower and that fixed for my departure. 
 
 In the mean while, despite the rarity amongst us of that 
 phenomenon, a newspaper, we were not so utterly cut off from 
 the sounds of the far-booming world beyond, but what the 
 intelligence of a change in the administration, and the appoint-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 3*5 
 
 ment of Mr. Trevanion to one of the great offices of stair, 
 reached our ears. I had kept up no correspondence with 
 Trevanion subsequent to the letter that occasioned Guy 
 Bolding's visit ; I wrote now to congratulate him : his reply 
 was short and hurried. 
 
 An intelligence that startled me more, and more deeply 
 moved my heart, was conveyed to me, some three months or 
 so before my departure, by Trevanion's steward. The ill 
 health of Lord Castleton had deferred his marriage, intended 
 originally to be celebrated as soon as he arrived of age. He 
 left the university with the honors of "a double first class " ; 
 and his constitution appeared to rally from the effects of 
 studies more severe to him than they might have been to a 
 man of quicker and more brilliant capacities when a feverish 
 cold, caught at a county meeting, in which his first public 
 appearance was so creditable as fully to justify the warmest 
 hopes of his party, produced inflammation of the lungs, and 
 ended fatally. The startling contrast forced on my mind 
 here, sudden death and cold clay, there, youth in its first 
 flower, princely rank, boundless wealth, the sanguine expecta- 
 tion of a.l illustrious career, and the prospect of that happi- 
 ness which smiled from the eyes of Fanny that contrast 
 impressed me with a strange awe : death seems so near to us 
 when it strikes those whom life most flatters and caresses. 
 Whence is that curious sympathy that we all have with the 
 possessors of worldly greatness, when the hour-glass is shaken 
 and the scythe descends ? If the famous meeting between 
 Diogenes and Alexander had taken place not before, but after, 
 the achievements which gave to Alexander the name of Great, 
 the cynic would not, perhaps, have envied the hero his pleas- 
 ures nor his splendors neither the charms of Statira nor the 
 tiara of the Mede ; but if, the day after, a cry had gone forth, 
 " Alexander the Great is dead ! " verily I believe that Diogenes 
 would have coiled himself up in his tub, and felt that, with the 
 shadow of the stately hero, something of glory and of warmth 
 had gone from that sun, which it should darken never more. 
 In the nature of man, the humblest or the hardest, there is 
 a something that lives in all of the Beautiful or the Fortunate, 
 which hope and desire have appropriated, even in the vanities 
 of a childish dream.
 
 316 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " WHY are you here all alone, cousin ? How cold and still 
 it is amongst the graves ! " 
 
 " Sit down beside me, Blanche ; it is not colder in the 
 churchyard than on the village green." 
 
 And Blanche sat down beside me, nestled close to me, and 
 leant her head upon my shoulder. We were both long silent. 
 It was an evening in the early spring, clear and serene the 
 roseate streaks were fading gradually from the dark gray of 
 long, narrow, fantastic clouds. Tall, leafless poplars, that 
 stood in orderly, level line, on the lowland between the church- 
 yard and the hill, with its crown of ruins, left their sharp sum- 
 mits distinct against the sky. But the shadows coiled dull and 
 heavy round the evergreens that skirted the churchyard, so 
 that their outline was vague and confused ; and there was a 
 depth in that lonely stillness, broken only when the thrush flew 
 out from the lower bushes, and the thick laurel leaves stirred 
 reluctantly, and again were rigid in repose. There is a certain 
 melancholy in the evenings of early spring, which is among 
 those influences of Nature the most universally recognized, the 
 most difficult to explain. The silent stir of reviving life, 
 which does not yet betray signs in the bud and blossom only 
 in a softer clearness in the air, a more lingering pause in the 
 slowly lengthening day ; a more delicate freshness and balm 
 in the twilight atmosphere ; a more lively, yet still unquiet, 
 note from the birds, settling down into their coverts ; the vague 
 sense under all that hush, which still outwardly wears the 
 bleak sterility of winter, of the busy change, hourly, momently, 
 at work, renewing the youth of the world, reclothing with 
 vigorous bloom the skeletons of things all these messages 
 from the heart of Nature to the heart of Man may well affect 
 and move us. But why with melancholy ? No thought on 
 our part connects and construes the low, gentle voices. It is 
 not thought that replies and reasons : it is feeling that hears 
 and dreams. Examine not, O child of man ! examine not 
 that mysterious melancholy with the hard eyes of thy reason ; 
 thou canst not impale it on the spikes of thy thorny logic, nor 
 describe its enchanted circle by problems conned from thy 
 schools. Borderer thyself of two worlds the Dead and the 
 Living give thine ear to the tones, bow thy soul to the 
 shadows, that steal, in the Season of Change, from the dim 
 Border Land.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 317 
 
 BLANCHE (in a whisper). What are you thinking of ? Speak, 
 pray! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. I was not thinking, Blanche ; or, if I were, 
 the thought is gone at the mere effort to seize or detain it. 
 
 BLANCHE (after a pause). I know what you mean. It is 
 the same with me often so often, when I am sitting by my- 
 self, quite still. It is just like the story Primmins was telling 
 us the other evening, " how there was a woman in her village 
 who saw things and people in a piece of crystal, not bigger 
 than my hand : * they passed along as large as life, but they 
 were only pictures in the crystal." Since I heard the story, 
 when aunt asks me what am I thinking of, I long to say : 
 " I'm not thinking ! I am seeing pictures in the crystal ! " 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Tell my father that ; it will please him. 
 There is more philosophy in it than you are aware of, Blanche. 
 There are wise men who have thought the whole world, its 
 "pride, pomp, and circumstance," only a phantom image a 
 picture in the crystal. 
 
 BLANCHE. And I shall see you see us both, as we are sit- 
 ting here and that star which has just risen yonder see it 
 all in my crystal when you are gone ! gone, cousin ! (And 
 Blanche's head drooped.) 
 
 There was something so quiet and deep in the tenderness 
 of this poor motherless child, that it did not affect one super- 
 ficially, like a child's loud momentary affection, in which we 
 know that the first toy will replace us. I kissed my little 
 cousin's pale face, and said: "And I too, Blanche, have my 
 crystal ; and when I consult it, I shall be very angry if I see 
 you sad and fretting, or seated alone. For you must know, 
 Blanche, that that is all selfishness. God made us, not to 
 indulge only in crystal pictures, weave idle fancies, pine alone, 
 and mourn over what we cannot help, but to be alert and 
 active givers of happiness. Now, Blanche, see what a trust 
 I am going to bequeath you. You are to supply my place to 
 all whom I leave. You are to bring sunshine wherever you 
 glide with that shy, soft step whether to your father, when 
 you see his brows knit and his arms crossed (that, indeed, you 
 always do), or to mine, when the volume drops from his hand ; 
 
 * In primitive villages, in the west of England, the belief that the absent may be seen 
 in a piece of crystal is, or was, not many years ago, by no means an uncommon superstition. 
 I have seen more than one of these magic mirrors, which Spenser, by the way, has beauti- 
 fully described. They are about the size and shape of a swan's egg. It is not every one, 
 however, who can be a crystal-seer ; like second-sight, it is a special gift. N.B. Since 
 the above note (appended to the first edition of this work) was written, crystals and 
 crystal-seers have become very familiar to those who interest themselves in speculations 
 upon the disputed phenomena ascribed to Mesmerical Clairvoyance.
 
 318 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 when he walks to and fro the room, restless, and murmuring 
 to himself then you are to steal up to him, put your hand 
 in his, lead him back to his books, and whisper : ' What will 
 Sisly say if his younger brother, the Great Book, is not grown 
 up when he comes back ?' And my poor mother, Blanche ! 
 ah, how can I counsel you there how tell you where to find 
 comfort for her ? Only, Blanche, steal into her heart and be 
 her daughter. And, to fulfil this threefold trust, you must not 
 content yourself with seeing pictures in the crystal do you 
 understand me ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Blanche, raising her eyes, while the tears 
 rolled from them, and folding her arms resolutely on her 
 breast. 
 
 " And so," said I, "as we two, sitting in this quiet burial- 
 ground, take new heart for the duties and cares of life, so see, 
 Blanche, how the stars come out, one by one, to smile upon 
 us ; for they, too, glorious orbs as they are, perform their 
 appointed tasks. Things seem to approximate to God in pro- 
 portion to their vitality and movement. Of all things, least 
 inert and sullen should be the soul of man. How the grass 
 grows up over the very graves quickly it grows and greenly 
 but neither so quick nor so green, my Blanche, as hope and 
 comfort from human sorrows." 
 
 PART FOURTEENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THERE is a beautiful and singular passage in Dante (which 
 has not perhaps attracted the attention ii deserves), wherein 
 the stern Florentine defends Fortune from the popular accusa- 
 tions against her. According to him, she is an angelic power 
 appointed by the Supreme Being to direct and order the course 
 of human splendors ; she obeys the will of God ; she is blessed, 
 and, hearing not those who blaspheme her, calm and aloft 
 amongst the other angelic powers, revolves her spheral course, 
 and rejoices in her beatitude.* 
 
 This is a conception very different from the popular notion 
 which Aristophanes, in his true instinct of things popular 
 
 _ul poe 
 Beautiful.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 319 
 
 expresses by the sullen lips of his Plutus. That deity accounts 
 for his blindness by saying, that " when a boy, he had indis- 
 creetly promised to visit only the good," and Jupiter was so 
 envious of the good that he blinded the poor money-god. 
 Whereon Chremylus asks him, whether, " if he recovered his 
 sight, he would frequent the company of the good ? " " Cer- 
 tainly," quoth Plutus, "for I have not seen them ever so long." 
 " Nor I either," rejoins Chremylus pithily, " for all I can see 
 out of both eyes." 
 
 But that misanthropical answer of Chremylus is neither here 
 nor there, and only diverts us from the real question, and that 
 is : " Whether Fortune be a heavenly, Christian angel, or a 
 blind, blundering, old heathen deity ?" For my part, I hold 
 with Dante for which, if I were so pleased, or if, at this 
 period of my memoirs, I had half a dozen pages to spare, I 
 could give many good reasons. One thing, however, is quite 
 clear : that, whether Fortune be more like Plutus or an angel, 
 it is no use abusing her one may as well throw stones at a 
 star. And I think, if one looked narrowly at her operations, 
 one might perceive that she gives every man a chance, at least 
 once in his life ; if he take and make the best of it, she will 
 renew her visits ; if not, itur ad astro, ! And therewith I am 
 reminded of an incident quaintly narrated by Mariana in his 
 " History of Spain," how the army of the Spanish kings got 
 out of a sad hobble among the mountains at the Pass of Losa, 
 by the help of a shepherd, who showed them the way. " But," 
 saith Mariana parenthetically, " some do say the shepherd was 
 an angel ; for, after he had shown the way, he was never seen 
 more." That is, the angelic nature of the guide was proved 
 by being only once seen, and, after having got the army out 
 of the hobble, leaving it to fight or run away, as it had most 
 mind to. Now I look upon that shepherd or angel, as a very 
 good type of my fortune at least. The apparition showed me 
 my way in the rocks to the great " Battle of Life " ; after 
 that hold fast and strike hard ! 
 
 Behold me in London with Uncle Roland. My poor parents 
 naturally wished to accompany me, and take the last glimpse 
 of the adventurer on board ship ; but I, knowing that the 
 parting would seem less dreadful to them by the hearth-stone, 
 and while they could say : " He is with Roland ; he is not yet 
 gone from the land" insisted on their staying behind ; and 
 thus the farewell was spoken. But Roland, the old soldier, 
 had so many practical instructions to give could so help 
 me in the choice of the outfit, and the preparations for the
 
 320 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 voyage, that I could not refuse his companionship to the last, 
 Guy Bolding, who had gone to take leave of his father, was to 
 join me in town, as well as my humbler Cumberland col- 
 leagues. 
 
 As my uncle and I were both of one mind upon the question 
 of economy, we took up our quarters at a lodging-house in 
 the City ; and there it was that I first made acquaintance with 
 a part of London, of which few of my politer readers even pre- 
 tend to be cognizant. I do not mean any sneer at the City 
 itself, my dear alderman ; that jest is worn out. I am not 
 alluding to streets, courts, and lanes ; what I mean may be 
 seen at the West End not so well as at the East, but still seen 
 very fairly ; I mean THE HOUSE-TOPS ! 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BEING A CHAPTER ON HOUSE-TOPS. 
 
 THE HOUSE-TOPS ! what a soberizing effect that prospect 
 produces on the mind. But a great many requisites go towards 
 the selection of the right point of survey. It is not enough to 
 secure a lodging in the attic ; you must not be fobbed off with 
 a front attic that faces the street. First, your attic must be 
 unequivocally a back attic ; secondly, the house in which it is 
 located must be slightly elevated above its neighbors ; thirdly, 
 the window must not lie slant on the roof, as is common with 
 attics in which case you only catch a peep of that leaden 
 canopy which infatuated Londoners call the sky but must be 
 a window perpendicular, and not half blocked up by the para- 
 pets of that fosse called the gutter; and lastly, the sight must 
 be so humored that you cannot catch a glimpse of the pave- 
 ments : if you once see the world beneath, the whole charm of 
 that world above is destroyed. Taking it for granted that 
 you have secured these requisites, open your window, lean 
 your chin on both hands, the elbows propped commodiously 
 on the sill, and contemplate the extraordinary scene which 
 spreads before you. You find it difficult to believe life can be 
 so tranquil on high, while it is so noisy and turbulent below. 
 What astonishing stillness ! Eliot Warburton (seductive 
 enchanter !) recommends you to sail down the Nile if you 
 want to lull the vexed spirit. It is easier and cheaper to hire 
 an attic in Holborn ! You don't have the crocodiles, but you 
 have animals no less hallowed in Egypt the cats ! And how 
 harmoniously the tranquil creatures blend with the prospect
 
 THK CAXTONS. 32 1 
 
 how noiselessly they glide along at the distance, pause, peer 
 about, and disappear. It is only from the attic that you can 
 appreciate the picturesque which belongs to our domesticated 
 tigerkin ! The goat should be seen on the Alps, and the cat 
 on the house-top. 
 
 By degrees the curious eye takes the scenery in detail : and 
 first, what fantastic variety in the heights and shapes of the 
 chimney-pots ! Some all level in a row, uniform and respect- 
 able, but quite uninteresting ; others, again, rising out of all 
 proportion, and imperatively tasking the reason to conjecture 
 why they are so aspiring. Reason answers that it is but a 
 homely expedient to give freer vent to the smoke ; wherewith 
 Imagination steps in and represents to you all the fretting, 
 and fuming, and worry, and care, which the owners of that 
 chimney, now the tallest of all, endured, before, by building it 
 higher, they got rid of the vapors. You see the distress of the 
 cook, when the sooty invader rushed down, " like a wolf on 
 the fold," full spring on the Sunday joint. You hear the 
 exclamations of the mistress (perhaps a bride house newly 
 furnished) when, with white apron and cap, she ventured into 
 the drawing-room, and was straightway saluted by a joyous 
 dance of those monads, called vulgarly smuts. You feel manly 
 indignation at the brute of a bridegroom, who rushes out from 
 the door, with the smuts dancing after him, and swears, 
 " Smoked out again ! By the Arch-smoker himself ! I'll go 
 and dine at the club." All this might well have been, till the 
 chimney-pot was raised a few feet nearer heaven ; and now 
 perhaps that long-suffering family owns the happiest home in 
 the Row. Such contrivances to get rid of the smoke ! It is 
 not every one who merely heightens his chimney ; others clap 
 on the hollow tormentor all sorts of odd headgear and cowls. 
 Here, patent contrivances act the purpose of weathercocks, 
 swaying to and fro with the wind ; there, others stand as fixed 
 as if, by a " sic jubeo" they had settled the business. But of 
 all those houses that, in the street, one passes by, unsuspicious 
 of what's the matter within, there is not one in a hundred but 
 what there has been the devil to do, to cure the chimneys of 
 smoking ! At that reflection, Philosophy dismisses the sub- 
 ject ; and decides that, whether one lives in a hut or a palace, 
 the first thing to do is to look to the hearth and get rid of 
 the vapors. 
 
 New beauties demand us. What endless undulations in the 
 various declivities and ascents ; here a slant, there a zigzag ! 
 With what majestic disdain yon roof rises up to the left !
 
 322 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Doubtless, a paface of Genii or Gin (which last is the proper 
 Arabic word for those builders of halls out of nothing, em- 
 ployed by Aladdin). Seeing only the roof of that palace boldly 
 breaking the skyline how serene your contemplations ! Per- 
 haps a star twinkles over it, and you muse on soft eyes far 
 away ; while below, at the threshold No, phantoms ! we see 
 you not from our attic. Note, yonder, that precipitous fall 
 how ragged and jagged the roof-scene descends in a gorge ! 
 He who would travel on foot through the pass of that defile, 
 of which we see but the picturesque summits, stops his nose, 
 averts his eyes, guards his pockets, and hurries along through 
 the squalor of the grim London lazzaroni. But, seen above, 
 what a noble break in the skyline ! It would be sacrilege to 
 exchange that fine gorge for a dead flat of dull roof-tops. 
 Look here how delightful ! that desolate house with no roof 
 at all gutted and skinned by the last London fire ! You can 
 see the poor green-and-white paper still clinging to the walls, 
 and the chasm that once was a cupboard, and the shad- 
 ows gathering black on the aperture that once was a hearth ! 
 Seen below, how quickly you would cross over the way ! 
 That great crack forebodes an avalanche ; you hold your 
 breath, not to bring it down on your head. But, seen above, 
 what a compassionate, inquisitive charm in the skeleton ruin ! 
 How your fancy runs riot repeopling the chambers, hearing 
 the last cheerful good-night of that destined Pompeii, creep- 
 ing on tiptoe with the mother, when she gives her farewell 
 look to the baby. Now all is midnight and silence ; then the 
 red, crawling serpent comes out. Lo ! his breath ; hark ! 
 his hiss. Now, spire after spire he winds and he coils ; now 
 he soars up erect crest superb, and forked tongue the beau- 
 tiful horror ! Then the start from the sleep, and the doubt- 
 ful awaking, and the run here and there, and the mother's 
 rush to the cradle ; the cry from the window, and the knock 
 at the door, and the spring of those on high towards the stair 
 that leads to safety below, and the smoke rushing up like the 
 surge of a hell ! And they run back stifled and blinded, and 
 the floor heaves beneath them like a bark on the sea. Hark ! 
 the grating wheels thundering low ; near and nearer comes 
 the engine. Fix the ladders ! there ! there ! at the window, 
 where the mother stands with the babe ! Splash and hiss 
 comes the water ; pales, then flares out, the fire : foe defies 
 foe ; element, element. How sublime is the war ! But the 
 ladder, the ladder ! there, at the window ! All else are saved : 
 the clerk and his books ; the lawyer with that tin box of title-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 323 
 
 deeds ; the landlord, with his policy of insurance ; the miser, 
 with his banknotes and gold : all are saved all, but the babe 
 and the mother. What a crowd in the streets ! How the 
 light crimsons over the gazers, hundreds on hundreds ! All 
 those faces seem as one face, with fear. Not a man mounts 
 the ladder. Yes, there gallant fellow ! God inspires God 
 shall speed thee ! How plainly I see him ! His eyes are 
 closed, his teeth set. The serpent leaps up, the forked tongue 
 darts upon him, and the reek of the breath wraps him round. 
 The crowd has ebbed back like a sea, and the smoke rushes 
 over them all. Ha ! what dim forms are those on the ladder ? 
 Near and nearer crash come the roof-tiles. Alas, and alas ! 
 no ! a cry of joy a " Thank Heaven ! " and the women force 
 their way through the men to come round the child and the 
 mother. All is gone save that skeleton ruin. But the ruin is 
 seen from above, O Art ! study life from the roof-tops ! 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I WAS again foiled in seeing Trevanion. It was the Easter 
 recess, and he was at the house of one of his brother ministers, 
 somewhere in the north of England. But Lady Ellinor was 
 in London, and I was ushered into her presence. Nothing 
 could be more cordial than her manner, though she was evi- 
 dently much depressed in spirits, and looked wan and care- 
 worn. 
 
 After the kindest inquiries relative to my parents and the 
 Captain, she entered with much sympathy into my schemes 
 and plans, which she said Trevanion had confided to her. The 
 sterling kindness that belonged to my old patron (despite his 
 affected anger at my not accepting his proffered loan) had not 
 only saved me and my fellow-adventurer all trouble as to 
 allotment orders, but procured advice as to choice of site and 
 soil, from the best practical experience, which we found after- 
 wards exceedingly useful. And as Lady Ellinor gave me the 
 little packet of papers, with Trevanion's shrewd notes on the 
 margin, she said with a half-sigh : " Albert bids me say 
 that he wishes he were as sanguine of his success in the cab- 
 inet as of yours in the Bush." She then turned to her hus- 
 band's rise and prospects, and her face began to change. Her 
 eyes sparkled, the color came to her cheeks : " But you are 
 one of the few who know him," she said, interrupting herself 
 suddenly : " you know how he sacrifices all things joy, leisure, 
 health to his country. There is not one selfish thought in
 
 324 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 his nature. And yet such envy such obstacles still ! and 
 (her eyes dropped on her dress, and I perceived that she was 
 in mourning, though the mourning was not deep) and," she 
 added, " it has pleased Heaven to withdraw from his side one 
 who would have been worthy his alliance." 
 
 I felt for the proud woman, though her emotion seemed 
 more that of pride than sorrow. And perhaps Lord Cas- 
 tleton's highest merit in her eyes had been that of minis- 
 tering to her husband's power and her own ambition. I bowed 
 my head in silence and thought of Fanny. Did she, too, pine 
 for the lost rank, or rather mourn the lost lover ? 
 
 After a time, I said hesitatingly : " I scarcely presume to 
 condole with you, Lady Ellinor ! yet believe me, few things 
 ever shocked me like the death you allude to. I trust Miss 
 Trevanion's health has not much suffered. Shall I not see 
 her before I leave England ? " 
 
 Lady Ellinor fixed her keen, bright eyes searchingly on my 
 countenance, and perhaps the gaze satisfied her, for she held 
 out her hand to me with a frankness almost tender, and said : 
 " Had I had a son, the dearest wish of my heart had been to 
 see you wedded to rny daughter." 
 
 I started up the blood rushed to my cheeks, and then left 
 me pale as death. I looked reproachfully at Lady Ellinor, 
 and the word " cruel ! " faltered on my lips. 
 
 " Yes," continued Lady Ellinor mournfully, " that was my 
 real thought, my impulse of regret, when 1 first saw you. 
 But, as it is, do not think me too hard and worldly, if I quote 
 the lofty old French proverb, Noblesse oblige. Listen to me, 
 my young friend we may never meet again, and I would not 
 have your father's son think unkindly of me, with all my faults. 
 From my first childhood I was ambitious not as women 
 usually are, of mere wealth and rank but ambitious as noble 
 men are, of power and fame. A woman can only indulge 
 such ambition by investing it in another. It was not wealth, 
 it was not rank, that attracted me to Albert Trevanion : it was 
 the nature that dispenses with the wealth, and commands the 
 rank. Nay," continued Lady Ellinor, in a voice that slightly 
 trembled, " I may have seen in my youth, before I knew 
 Trevanion, one (she paused a moment, and went on hur- 
 riedly) one who wanted but ambition to have realized my 
 ideal. Perhaps, even when I married and it was said for 
 love I loved less with my whole heart than with my whole 
 mind. I may say this now, for now every beat of this pulse is 
 wholly and only true to him with whom I have schemed,
 
 THE CAXTONS. 325 
 
 and toiled, and aspired ; with whom I have grown as one ; 
 with whom I have shared the struggle, and now partake the 
 triumph, realizing the visions of my youth." 
 
 Again the light broke from the dark eyes of this grand 
 daughter of the world, who was so superb a type of that moral 
 contradiction an ambitious woman. 
 
 " I cannot tell you," resumed Lady Ellinor, softening, 
 " how pleased I was when you came to live with us. Your 
 father has perhaps spoken to you of me, and of our first 
 acquaintance ! " 
 
 Lady Ellinor paused abruptly, and surveyed me as she 
 paused. I was silent. 
 
 " Perhaps, too, he has blamed me? "she resumed, with a 
 heightened color. 
 
 " He never blamed you, Lady Ellinor ! " 
 
 " He had a right to do so though I doubt if he would have 
 blamed me on the true ground. Yet no ; he never could have 
 done me the wrong that your uncle did, when, long years ago, 
 Mr. De Caxton in a letter the very bitterness of which dis- 
 armed all anger accused me of having trifled with Austin 
 nay, with himself ! And he, at least, had no right to reproach 
 me," continued Lady Ellinor warmly, and with a curve of her 
 haughty lip ; " for if I felt interest in his wild thirst for some 
 romantic glory, it was but in the hope that what made the one 
 brother so restless might awake the other to the ambition that 
 would have become his intellect, and aroused his energies. But 
 these are old tales of follies and delusions now no more : only 
 this will I say, that I have ever felt, in thinking of your father, 
 and even of your sterner uncle, as if my conscience reminded me 
 of a debt which I had longed to discharge if not to them, to 
 their children. So, when we knew you, believe me, that your' 
 interests, your career, instantly became to me an object. But 
 mistaking you when I saw your ardent industry bent on se- 
 rious objects, and accompanied by a mind so fresh and buoy- 
 ant ; and, absorbed as I was in schemes or projects far beyond 
 a woman's ordinary province of hearth and home I never 
 dreamed, while you were our guest never dreamed of danger 
 to you or Fanny. I wound you pardon me ; but I must vin- 
 dicate myself. I repeat that, if we had a son to inherit our name, 
 to bear the burthen which the world lays upon those who are 
 born to influence the world's destinies, there is no one to whom 
 Trevanion and myself would sooner have entrusted the happi- 
 ness of a daughter. But my daughter is the sole representa- 
 tive of the mother's line, of the father's name : it is not her
 
 326 THE CAXTON3. 
 
 happiness alone that I have to consult, it is her duty duty to 
 her birthright, to the career of the noblest of England's 
 patriots duty, I may say, without exaggeration, to the coun- 
 try for the sake of which that career is run !"" 
 
 " Say no more, Lady Ellinor ; say no more. I understand 
 you. I have no hope I never had hope : it was a madness 
 it is over. It is but as a friend that I ask again, if I may see 
 Miss Trevanion in your presence, before before I go alone 
 into this long exile, to leave, perhaps, my dust in a stranger's 
 soil ! Ay, look in my face you cannot fear my resolution, 
 my honor, my truth. But once, Lady Ellinor but once more, 
 Do I ask in vain ? " 
 
 Lady Ellinor was evidently much moved. I bent down 
 almost in the attitude of kneeling ; and, brushing away her 
 tears with one hand, she laid the other on my head tenderly, 
 and said in a very low voice : 
 
 " I entreat you not to ask me ; I entreat you not to see my 
 daughter. You have shown that you are not selfish conquer 
 yourself still. What if such an interview, however guarded 
 you might be, were but to agitate, unnerve my child, unsettle 
 her peace, prey upon " 
 
 " Oh, do not speak thus she did not share my feelings ! " 
 
 " Could her mother own it if she did ? Come, come, remem- 
 ber how young you both are. When you return all these 
 dreams will be forgotten ; then we can meet as before ; then 
 I will be your second mother, and again your career shall be 
 my care ; for do not think that we shall leave you so long in 
 this exile as you seem to forebode. No, no ; it is but an 
 absence an excursion not a search after fortune. Your 
 fortune leave that to us when you return ! " 
 
 " And I am to see her no more ! " I murmured, as I rose, 
 and went silently towards the window to conceal my face. The 
 great struggles in life are limited to moments. In the droop- 
 ing of the head upon the bosom, in the pressure of the hand 
 upon the brow, we may scarcely consume a second in our 
 threescore years and ten ; but what revolutions of our whole 
 being may pass within us, while that single sand drops noise- 
 less down to the bottom of the hour-glass. 
 
 I came back with firm step to Lady Ellinor, and said calmly : 
 " My reason tells me that you are right, and I submit. For- 
 give me ! and do not think me ungrateful and over-proud, if 
 I add, that you must leave me still the object in life that con- 
 soles and encourages me through all." 
 
 " What object is that ? " asked Lady Ellinor hesitatingly.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 327 
 
 " Independence for myself, and ease to those for whom life 
 is still sweet. This is my twofold object ; and the means to 
 effect it must be my own heart and my own hands. And now, 
 convey all my thanks to your noble husband, and accept my 
 warm prayers for yourself and her whom I will not name. 
 Farewell, Lady Ellinor." 
 
 " No, do not leave me so hastily ; I have many things to 
 discuss with you at least to ask ol you. Tell me how your 
 father bears his reverse ? tell me, at least, if there be aught 
 he will suffer us to do for him ? There are many appoint- 
 ments in Trevanion's range of influence that would suit even 
 the wilful indolence of a man of letters. Come, be frank with 
 me ! " 
 
 I could not resist so much kindness ; so I sat down, and, as 
 collectedly as I could, replied to Lady Ellinor's questions, and 
 sought to convince her that my father only felt his losses so 
 far as they affected me, and that nothing in Trevanion's power 
 was likely to tempt him from his retreat, or calculated to com- 
 pensate for a change in his habits. Turning at last from my 
 parents, Lady Ellinor inquired for Roland, and, on learning 
 that he was with me in town, expressed a strong desire to see 
 him. I told her I would communicate her wish, and she then 
 said thoughtfully : 
 
 " He has a son, I think, and I have heard that there is some 
 unhappy dissension between them." 
 
 " Who could have told you that ? " I asked in surprise, 
 knowing how closely Roland had kept the secret of his family 
 afflictions. 
 
 " Oh, I heard so from some one who knew Captain Roland 
 I forget when and where I heard it but is it not the fact ? " 
 
 " My Uncle Roland has no son." 
 
 " How ! " 
 
 " His son is dead." 
 
 " How such a loss must grieve him." 
 
 I did not speak. 
 
 . " But is he sure that his son is dead ? What joy if he were 
 mistaken if the son yet lived ! " 
 
 " Nay, my uncle has a brave heart, and he is resigned ; but, 
 pardon me, have you heard anything of that son ? " 
 
 " I ! What should I hear ? I would fain learn, however, 
 from your uncle himself, what he might like to tell me of his 
 sorrows ; or if, indeed, there be any chance that " 
 
 " That what ? " 
 
 * That that his son still survives."
 
 328 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " I think not," said I ; " and I doubt whether you will learn 
 much from my uncle. Still there is something in your words 
 that belies their apparent meaning, and makes me suspect that 
 you know more than you will say." 
 
 " Diplomatist ! " said Lady Ellinor, half smiling ; but then, 
 her face settling into a seriousness almost severe, she added : 
 " It is terrible to think that a father should hate his son ! " 
 
 " Hate ! Roland hate his son ! What calumny is this ? " 
 
 " He does not do so, then ! Assure me of that ; I shall be 
 so glad to know that I have been misinformed." 
 
 " I can tell you this, and no more for no more do I know 
 that if ever the soul of a father were wrapt up in a son fear, 
 hope, gladness, sorrow, all reflected back on a father's heart 
 from the shadows on a son's life Roland was that father while 
 the son lived still." 
 
 " I cannot disbelieve you ! " exclaimed Lady Ellinor, though 
 in a tone of surprise. " Well, do let me see your uncle." 
 
 " I will do my best to induce him to visit you, and learn all 
 that you evidently conceal from me." 
 
 Lady Ellinor evasively replied to this insinuation, and shortly 
 afterwards I left that house in which I had known the happiness 
 that brings the folly, and the grief that bequeaths the wisdom. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I HAD always felt a warm and almost filial affection for 
 Lady Ellinor, independently of her relationship to Fanny, and 
 of the gratitude with which her kindness inspired me : for 
 there is an affection very peculiar in its nature, and very high 
 in its degree, which results from the blending of two senti- 
 ments not often allied, viz., pity and admiration. It was 
 impossible not to admire the rare gifts and great qualities of 
 Lady Ellinor, and not to feel pity for the cares, anxieties, and 
 sorrows which tormented one who, with all the sensitiveness 
 of woman, went forth into the rough world of man. 
 
 My father's confession had somewhat impaired my esteem 
 for Lady Ellinor, and had left on my mind the uneasy impres- 
 sion that she had trifled with his deep, and Roland's impetuous, 
 heart. The conversation that had just passed allowed me to 
 judge her with more justice allowed me to see that she had 
 really shared the affection she had inspired in the student, but 
 that ambition had been stronger than love an ambition, it 
 might be, irregular, and not strictly feminine, but still of no 
 vulgar nor sordid kind. I gathered, too, from her hints and
 
 THE CAXTONS. 329' 
 
 allusions, her true excuse for Roland's misconception of her 
 apparent interest in himself : she had but seen, in the wild 
 energies of the elder brother, some agency by which to arouse 
 the serener faculties of the younger. She had but sought, in 
 the strange comet that flashed before her, to fix a lever that 
 might move the star. Nor could I withhold my reverence 
 from the woman who, not being married precisely from love, 
 had no sooner linked her nature to one worthy of it, than her 
 whole life became as fondly devoted to her husband's as if he 
 had been the object of her first romance and her earliest affec- 
 tions. If even her child was so secondary to her husband if 
 the fate of that child was but regarded by her as one to be 
 rendered subservient to the grand destinies of Trevanion 
 still it was impossible to recognize the error of that conjugal 
 devotion without admiring the wife, though one might con- 
 demn the mother. Turning from these meditations, I felt a 
 lover's thrill of selfish joy, amidst all the mournful sorrow 
 comprised in the thought that I should see Fanny no more. 
 Was it true, as Lady Ellinor implied, though delicately, that 
 Fanny still cherished a remembrance of me, which a brief in- 
 terview, a last farewell, might reawaken too dangerously for 
 hei peace ? Well, that was a thought that it became me not 
 to indulge. 
 
 What could Lady Ellinor have heard of Roland and his son ? 
 Was it possible that the lost lived still ? Asking myself these 
 questions, I arrived at our lodgings, and saw the Captain him- 
 self before me, busied with the inspection of sundry specimens 
 of the rude necessaries an Australian adventurer requires. 
 There stood the old soldier, by the window, examining nar- 
 rowly into the temper of hand-saw and tenon-saw, broad axe 
 and drawing-knife ; and as I came up to him, he looked at 
 me from under his black brows, with gruff compassion, and 
 said peevishly : 
 
 " Fine weapons these for the son of a gentleman ! One bit 
 of steel in the shape of a sword were worth them all." 
 
 " Any weapon that conquers fate is noble in the hands of a 
 brave man, uncle.'' 
 
 " The boy has an answer for everything," quoth the Cap- 
 tain, smiling, as he took out his purse and paid the shopman. 
 
 When we were alone I said to him : " Uncle, you must go 
 and see Lady Ellinor ; she desires me to tell you so." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " 
 
 "You will not?" 
 
 No ! "
 
 33 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Uncle, I think that she has something to say to you with 
 regard to to pardon me ! to my cousin." 
 
 " To Blanche ? " 
 
 " No, no the cousin I never saw." 
 
 Roland turned pale, and sinking down on a chair, faltered 
 out : " To him to my son ? " 
 
 "Yes ; but I do not think it is news to afflict you. Uncle, 
 are you sure that my cousin is dead ?" 
 
 " What ! how dare you ! who doubts it ? Dead dead to 
 me forever ! Boy, would you have him live to dishonor these 
 gray hairs ? " 
 
 " Sir, sir, forgive me uncle, forgive me : but pray, go to 
 see Lady Ellinor ; for whatever she has to say, I repeat that I 
 am sure it will be nothing to wound you." 
 
 " Nothing to wound me yet relate to him ! " 
 
 It is impossible to convey to the reader the despair that was 
 in those words. 
 
 " Perhaps," said I, after a long pause, and in a low voice, 
 for I was awe-stricken " perhaps if he be dead he may 
 have repented of all offence to you before he died." 
 
 " Repented ha, ha ! " 
 
 " Or, if he be not dead " 
 
 " Hush, boy hush ! " 
 
 "While there is life, there is hope of repentance." 
 
 " Look you, nephew," said the Captain, rising and folding 
 his arms resolutely on his breast " look you, I desired that 
 that name might never be breathed I have not cursed my 
 son yet ; could he come to life the curse might fall ! You 
 do not know what torture your words have given me, just when 
 I had opened my heart to another son, and found that son in 
 you. With respect to the lost, I have now but one prayer, and 
 you know it the heart-broken prayer that his name never 
 more may come to my ears ! " 
 
 As he closed these words, to which I ventured no reply, the 
 Captain took long, disordered strides across the room ; and sud- 
 denly, as if the space imprisoned, or the air stifled him, he seized 
 his hat, and hastened into the streets. Recovering my surprise 
 and dismay, I ran after him ; but he commanded me to leave 
 him to his own thoughts, in a voice so stern, yet so sad, that I 
 had no choice but to obey. I knew, by my own experience, 
 how necessary is solitude in the moments when grief is strong- 
 est and thought most troubled.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 331 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOURS elapsed, and the Captain had not returned home. I 
 began to feel uneasy, and went forth in search of him, though I 
 knew not whither to direct my steps. I thought it however, at 
 least probable that he had not been able to resist visiting Lady 
 Ellinor, so I went first to St. James's Square. My suspicions 
 were correct ; the Captain had been there two hours before. 
 Lady Ellinor herself had gone out shortly after the Captain 
 left. While the porter was giving me this information, a car- 
 riage stopped at the door, and a footman, stepping up, gave 
 the porter a note and a small parcel, seemingly of books, say- 
 ing simply, " From the Marquis of Castleton." At the sound 
 of that name I turned hastily, and recognized Sir Sedley 
 Beaudesert seated in the carriage, and looking out of the 
 window with a dejected, moody expression of countenance, 
 very different from his ordinary aspect, except when the rare 
 sight of a gray hair or a twinge of the toothache reminded 
 him that he was ho longer twenty-five. Indeed, the change 
 was so great that I exclaimed dubiously : " Is that Sir Sedley 
 Beaudesert?" The footman looked at me, and touching his 
 hat said, with a condescending smile : " Yes, sir now the 
 Marquis of Castleton." 
 
 Then, for the first time since the young lord's death, I re- 
 membered Sir Sedley 's expressions of gratitude to Lady Cas- 
 tleton, and the waters of Ems, for having saved him from 
 " that horrible marquisate." Meanwhile my old friend had 
 perceived me, exclaiming : 
 
 " What ! Mr. Caxton ! I am delighted to see you. Open 
 the door, Thomas. Pray come in, come in." 
 
 I obeyed ; and the new Lord Castleton made room for me 
 by his side. 
 
 " Are you in a hurry ? " said he ; " if so, shall I take you 
 anywhere ? If not, give me half an hour of your time, while I 
 drive to the City." 
 
 As I knew not now in what direction, more than another, 
 to prosecute my search for the Captain, and as I thought I 
 might as well call at our lodgings to inquire if he had not re- 
 turned, I answered that I should be very happy to accompany 
 his lordship ; " though the City," and I, smiling, " sounds to 
 me strange upon the lips of Sir Sedley I beg pardon, I 
 should say of Lord " 
 
 " Don't say any such thing ; let me once more hear the
 
 332 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 grateful sound of Sedley Beaudesert. Shut the door, Thomas ; 
 to Gracechurch Street Messrs. Fudge and Fidget." 
 
 The carriage drove on. 
 
 " A sad affliction has befallen me," said the marquis, " and 
 none sympathize with me ! " 
 
 " Yet all, even unacquainted with the late lord, must have 
 felt shocked at the death of one so young, and so full of 
 promise." 
 
 " So fitted in every way to bear the burthen of the great 
 Castleton name and property and yet you see it killed him ! 
 Ah ! if he had been but a simple gentleman, or if he had had a 
 less conscientious desire to do his duties, he would have lived 
 to a good old age. I know what it is already. Oh, if 
 you saw the piles of letters on my table ! I positively dread 
 the post. Such colossal improvement on the property which 
 the poor boy had begun, for me to finish. What do you 
 think takes me to Fudge and Fidget's ? Sir, they are the 
 agents for an infernal coal-mine which my cousin had re- 
 opened in Durham, to plague my life out with another 
 thirty thousand pounds a year ! How am I to spend the 
 money? how am I to spend it? There's a cold-blooded 
 head steward, who says that charity is the greatest crime a 
 man in high station can commit ; it demoralizes the poor. 
 Then, because some half a dozen farmers sent me a round- 
 robin, to the effect that their rents were too high, and I wrote 
 them word that the rents should be lowered, there was such a 
 hullabaloo you would have thought heaven and earth were 
 coming together. ' If a man in the position of the Marquis of 
 Castleton set the example of letting land below its value, how 
 could the poorer squires in the country exist ? or, if they did 
 exist, what injustice to expose them to the charge that they 
 were grasping landlords, vampires, and bloodsuckers ! Clearly 
 if Lord Castleton lowered his rents (they were too low already), 
 he struck a mortal blow at the property of his neighbors, if 
 they followed his example : or at their characters, if they did 
 not.' No man can tell how hard it is to do good, unless for- 
 tune gives him a hundred thousand pounds a year, and says : 
 4 Now, do good with it ! ' Sedley Beaudesert might follow his 
 whims, and all that would be said against him was, 'good- 
 natured, simple fellow ! ' But if Lord Castleton follow his 
 whims, you would think he was a second Catiline unsettling 
 the peace, and undermining the prosperity, of the entire 
 nation ! " Here the wretched man paused, and sighed heavily ; 
 then, as his thoughts wandered into a new channel of woe, he
 
 tHE CAXTONS. 333 
 
 fesumed : " Ah ! if you could but see the forlorn great house 
 I am expected to inhabit, cooped up between dead walls, 
 instead of my pretty rooms, with the windows full on the Park ; 
 and the balls I am expected to give, and the parliamentary 
 interest I am to keep up ; and the villanous proposal made to 
 me to become a lord steward or lord chamberlain, because it 
 suits my rank to be a sort of a servant. Oh, Pisistratus ! you 
 lucky dog not twenty-one, and with, I dare say, not two 
 hundred pounds a year in the world ! " 
 
 Thus bemoaning and bewailing his sad fortunes, the poor 
 marquis ran on, till at last he exclaimed, in a tone of yet deeper 
 despair : 
 
 " And everybody says I must marry, too ! that the Castleton 
 line must not be extinct ! The Beaudeserts are a good old 
 family eno' as old, for what I know, as the Castletons ; but 
 the British empire would suffer no loss if they sunk into the 
 tomb of the Capulets. But that the Castleton peerage should 
 expire, is a thought of crime and woe, at which all the mothers 
 of England rise in a phalanx ! And so, instead of visiting the 
 sins of the fathers on the sons, it is the father that is to be 
 sacrificed for the benefit of the third and fourth generation ! " 
 
 Despite my causes for seriousness, I could not help laugh- 
 ing ; my companion turned on me a look of reproach. 
 
 " At least," said I, composing my countenance, " Lord Cas- 
 tleton has one comfort in his afflictions if he must marry, he 
 may choose as he pleases." 
 
 " That is precisely what Sedley Beaudesert could, and Lord 
 Castleton cannot do," said the Marquis gravely. " The rank 
 of Sir Sedley Beaudesert was a quiet and comfortable rank 
 he might marry a curate's daughter, or a duke's and please 
 his eye or grieve his heart as the caprice took him. But Lord 
 Castleton must marry, not for a wife, but for a marchioness 
 marry some one who will wear his rank for him, take the 
 trouble of splendor off his hands, and allow him to retire into 
 a corner, and dream that he is Sedley Beaudesert once more ! 
 Yes, it must be so the crowning sacrifice must be completed 
 at the altar. But a truce to my complaints. Trevanion 
 informs me you are going to Australia, can that be true ? " 
 
 " Perfectly true." 
 
 " They say there is a sad want of ladies there." 
 
 " So much the better, I shall be all the more steady." 
 
 "Well, there's something in that. Have you seen Lady 
 Ellinor?" 
 
 " Yes, this morning."
 
 334 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Poor woman ! a great blow to her we have tried to con- 
 sole each other. Fanny, you know, is staying at Oxton, in 
 Surrey, with Lady Castleton the poor lady is so fond of her 
 and no one has comforted her like Fanny." 
 
 " I was not aware that Miss Trevanion was out of town." 
 
 " Only for a few days, and then she and Lady Ellinor join 
 
 Trevanion in the north you know he is with Lord N , 
 
 settling measures on which but alas ! they consult me now 
 on those matters force their secrets on me. I have, Heaven 
 knows how many votes ! Poor me ! Upon my word, if Lady 
 Ellinor was a widow, I should certainly make up to her ; very 
 clever woman, nothing bores her." (The Marquis yawned 
 Sir Sedley Beaudesert never yawned.) " Trevanion has pro- 
 vided for his Scotch secretary, and is about to get a place in 
 the Foreign Office for that young fellow Gower, whom, between 
 you and me, I don't like. But he has bewitched Trevanion ! " 
 
 " What sort of a person is this Mr. Gower ? I remember 
 you said that he was clever, and good-looking." 
 
 " He is both, but it is not the cleverness of youth ; he is as 
 hard and sarcastic as if he had been cheated fifty times, and 
 jilted a hundred ! Neither are his good looks that letter of 
 recommendation which a handsome face is said to be. He 
 has an expression of countenance very much like that of Lord 
 Hertford's pet bloodhound, when a stranger comes into the 
 room. Very sleek, handsome dog, the bloodhound is, cer- 
 tainly well-mannered, and I dare say exceedingly tame ; but 
 still you have but to look at the corner of the eye, to know 
 that it is only the habit of the drawing-room that suppresses 
 the creature's constitutional tendency to seize you by the 
 throat, instead of giving you a paw. Still this Mr. Gower has 
 a very striking head something about it Moorish or Spanish, 
 like a picture by Murillo : I half suspect that he is less a Gower 
 than a gypsy ! " 
 
 " What ! " I cried, as I listened with rapt and breathless 
 Attention to this description. " He is then very dark, with 
 high, narrow forehead, features slightly aquiline, but very 
 delicate, and teeth so dazzling that the whole face seems to 
 sparkle when he smiles though it is only the lip that smiles, 
 pot the eye." 
 
 " Exactly as you say ; you have seen him, then ? " 
 
 " Why, I am not sure, since you say his name is Gower." 
 
 "He says his name is Gower," returned Lord Castleton 
 dryly, as he inhaled the Beaudesert mixture. 
 
 f< And where is he now ? with Mr. Trevanion ? "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 335 
 
 u Yes, I believe so. Ah ! here we are Fudge and Fidget ! 
 But, perhaps," added Lord Castleton, with a gleam of hope in 
 his blue eye " perhaps they are not at home ! " 
 
 Alas ! that was an illusive " imagining," as the poets of the 
 nineteenth century unaffectedly express themselves. Messrs. 
 Fudge and Fidget were never out to such clients as the Mar- 
 quis of Castleton : with a deep sigh, and an altered expression 
 of face, the Victim of Fortune slowly descended the steps of 
 the carriage. 
 
 " I can't ask you to wait for me," said he : " Heaven only 
 knows how long I shall be kept ! Take the carriage where you 
 will, and send it back to me." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, my dear lord, I would rather walk 
 but you will let me call on you before I leave town." 
 
 " Let you ! I insist on it. I am still at the old quarters 
 under pretence," said the Marquis, with a sly twinkle of the 
 eyelid, "that Castleton House wants painting ! " 
 
 " At twelve to-morrow, then ? " 
 
 " Twelve to-morrow. Alas ! that's just the hour at which 
 Mr. Screw, the agent for the London property (two squares, 
 seven streets, and a lane !) is to call." 
 
 " Perhaps two o'clock will suit you better?" 
 
 " Two ! just the hour at which Mr. Plausible, one of the 
 Castleton members, insists upon telling me why his conscience 
 will not let him vote with Trevanion ! " 
 
 "Three o'clock?" 
 
 " Three ! just the hour at which I am to see the Secretary 
 of the Treasury, who has promised to relieve Mr. Plausible's 
 conscience ! But come and dine with me you will meet the 
 executors to the will ! " 
 
 " Nay, Sir Sedley that is, my dear lord I will take my 
 chance, and look in after dinner." 
 
 " Do so ; my guests are not lively ! What a firm step the 
 rogue has ! Only twenty, I think twenty ! and not an acre 
 of property to plague him ! " So saying, the Marquis dolor- 
 ously shook his head, and vanished through the noiseless 
 mahogany doors, behind which Messrs. Fudge and Fidget 
 awaited the unhappy man, with the accounts of the Great 
 Castleton coal-mine. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ON my way towards our lodgings, I resolved to look in at a 
 humble tavern in the coffee-room of which the Captain and
 
 336 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 myself habitually dined. It was now about the usual hour in 
 which we took that meal, and he might be there waiting for 
 me. I had just gained the steps of this tavern when a stage- 
 coach came rattling along the pavement, and drew up at an 
 inn of more pretensions than that which we favored, situated 
 within a few doors of the latter. As the coach stopped, my 
 eye was caught by the Trevanion livery, which was very pecu- 
 liar. Thinking I must be deceived, I drew near to the wearer 
 of the livery, who had just descended from the roof, and while 
 he paid the coachman, gave his orders to a waiter who emerged 
 from the inn " Half-and-half, cold without ! " The tone of 
 the voice struck me as familiar, and, the man now looking up, 
 I beheld the features of Mr. Peacock. Yes, unquestionably it 
 was he. The whiskers were shaved ; there were traces of 
 powder in the hair or the wig the livery of the Trevanions (ay, 
 the very livery crest-button, and all) upon that portly figure, 
 which I had last seen in the more august robes of a beadle. 
 But Mr. Peacock it was Peacock travestied, but Peacock 
 still. Before I had recovered my amaze, a woman got out of 
 a cabriolet, that seemed to have been in waiting for the ar- 
 rival of the coach, and hurrying up to Mr. Peacock, said in 
 the loud, impatient tone common to the fairest of the fair sex, 
 when in haste : " How late you are ! I was just going. I 
 must get back to Oxton to-night." 
 
 Oxton Miss Trevanion was staying at Oxton ! I was now 
 close behind the pair I listened with my heart in my ear. 
 
 " So you shall, my dear so you shall ; just come in, will 
 you." 
 
 " No, no ; I have only ten minutes to catch the coach. 
 Have you any letter for me from Mr. Gower ? How can I 
 be sure, if I don't see it under his own hand, that " 
 
 " Hush ! " said Peacock, sinking his voice so low that I 
 could only catch the words, "no names letter, pooh, I'll tell 
 you." He then drew her apart, and whispered to her for some 
 moments. I watched the woman's face, which was bent towards 
 her companion's, and it seemed to show quick intelligence. 
 She nodded her head more than once, as if in impatient assent 
 to what was said ; and, after a shaking of hands, hurried off 
 to the cab ; then, as if a thought struck her, she ran back, and 
 said : 
 
 " But in case my lady should not go if there's any change 
 of plan." 
 
 " There'll be no change, you may be sure positively to- 
 morrow not too early ; you understand ? "
 
 THE CAXTOK'S 337 
 
 " Yes, yes ; good-by " and the woman, who was dressed 
 with a quiet neatness that seemed to stamp her profession as 
 that of an abigail (black cloak, with long cape of that peculiar 
 silk which seems spun on purpose for ladies'-maids bonnets 
 to match, with red and black ribbons), hastened once more 
 away, and in another moment the cab drove off furiously. 
 
 What could all this mean ? By this time the waiter brought 
 Mr. Peacock the half-and-half. He despatched it hastily, and 
 then strode on towards a neighboring stand of cabriolets. I 
 followed him ; and just as, after beckoning one. of the vehicles 
 from the stand, he had ensconced himself therein, I sprang up 
 the steps and placed myself by his side. " Now, Mr. Pea- 
 cock," said I, "you will tell me at once how you come to wear 
 that livery, or I shall order the cabman to drive to Lady Elli- 
 nor Trevanion's and ask her that question myself." 
 
 " And who the devil ! Ah, you're the young gentleman that 
 came to me behind the scenes I remember." 
 
 " Where to, sir ? " asked the cabman. 
 
 " To to London Bridge," said Mr. Peacock. 
 
 The man mounted the box, and drove on. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Peacock, I wait your answer. I guess by your 
 face that you are about to tell me a lie ; I advise you to speak 
 the truth." 
 
 " I don't know what business you have to question me," 
 said Mr. Peacook sullenly ; and raising his glance from his own 
 clenched fists, he suffered it to wander over my form with so 
 vindictive a significance that I interrupted the survey by say- 
 ing : " ' Will you encounter the house ? ' as the Swan interrog- 
 atively puts it shall I order the cabman to drive to St. James's 
 Square ? " 
 
 " Oh, you know my weak point, sir ; any man who can quote 
 Will sweet Will has me on the hip," rejoined Mr. Peacock, 
 smoothing his countenance, and spreading his palms on his 
 knees. " But if a man does fall in the world, and after keep- 
 ing servants of his own, is obliged to be himself a servant, 
 
 ' I will not shame 
 To tell you what I am.' " 
 
 " The Swan says, ' To tell you what I was,' Mr. Peacock. 
 But enough of this trifling ; who placed you with Mr. Tre- 
 vanion ? " 
 
 Mr. Peacock looked down for a moment, and then, fixing his 
 eyes on me, said : " Well, I'll tell you : you asked me, when 
 we met last, about a young gentleman Mr. Mr. Vivian," 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Proceed.
 
 338 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 PEACOCK. I know you don't want to harm him. Besides, 
 " He hath a prosperous art," and one day or other mark my 
 words, or rather my friend Will's 
 
 " He will bestride this narrow world 
 Like a Colossus." 
 
 Upon my life he will like a Colossus, 
 
 " And we petty men " 
 
 PISISTRATUS (savagely). Go on with your story. 
 PEACOCK (snappishly). I am going on with it ! You put 
 me out ; where was I oh ah yes. I had just been sold 
 up not a penny in my pocket ; and if you could have seen 
 my coat yet that was better than the small-clothes ! Well, it 
 was in Oxford Street no, it was in the Strand, near the 
 Lowther 
 
 " The sun was in the heavens ; and the proud day 
 Attended, with the pleasures of the world." 
 
 PISISTRATUS (lowering the glass). To St. James's Square ? 
 PEACOCK. No, no ; to London Bridge. 
 
 " How use doth breed a habit in a man ! " 
 
 I will go on honor bright. So I met Mr. Vivian, and as he 
 had known me in better days, and has a good heart of his own, 
 he says 
 
 " Horatio, or I do forget myself." 
 
 Pisistratus puts his hand on the check-string. 
 
 PEACOCK (correcting himself). I mean Why, Johnson, 
 my good fellow. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Johnson ! oh, that's your name not Pea- 
 cock. 
 
 PEACOCK. Johnson and Peacock both (with dignity). 
 When you know the world as I do, sir, you will find that it is 
 ill travelling this " naughty world " without a change of names 
 in your portmanteau. 
 
 " Johnson," says he, " my good fellow," and he pulled out 
 his purse. "Sir," said I, "if, 'exempt from public haunt,' I 
 could get something to do when this dross is gone. In London 
 there are sermons in stones, certainly, but not ' good in every- 
 thing,' an observation I should take the liberty of making to 
 the Swan, if he were not now, alas ! ' the baseless fabric of a 
 vision.' " 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Take care ! 
 
 PEACOCK (hurriedly). Then says Mr. Vivian : " If you don't 
 mind wearing a livery, till I can provide for you more suitably, 
 my old friend, there's a vacancy in the establishment of Mr.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 339 
 
 Trevaniort." Sir, I accepted the proposal, and that's why I 
 wear this livery. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. And pray, what business had you with that 
 young woman, whom I take to be Miss Trevanion's maid ? 
 And why should she come from Oxton to see you ? 
 
 I had expected that these questions would confound Mr. 
 Peacock ; but if there really were anything in them to cause 
 embarrassment, the ci-devant actor was too practised in his 
 profession to exhibit it. He merely smiled, and, smoothing 
 jauntily a very tumbled shirt-front, he said : " Oh, sir, fie ! 
 
 ' Of this matter, 
 Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made.' 
 
 If you must know my love affairs, that young woman is, as the 
 vulgar say, my sweetheart." 
 
 " Your sweetheart ! " I exclaimed, greatly relieved, and 
 acknowledging at once the probability of the statement. 
 " Yet," I added suspiciously " yet, if so, why should she 
 expect Mr. Gower to write to her ? " 
 
 " You're quick of hearing, sir ; but though 
 
 ' All adoration, duty, and observance : 
 All humbleness, and patience, and impatience,' 
 
 the young woman won't marry a livery servant proud 
 creature ! very proud ! and Mr. Gower, you see, knowing 
 how it was, felt for me, and told her, if I may take such liberty 
 with the Swan, that she should 
 
 ' Never lie by Johnson's side 
 With an unquiet soul,' 
 
 /or that he would get me a place in the Stamps. The silly girl 
 said she would have it in black and white as if Mr. Gower 
 would write to her ! 
 
 " And now, sir," continued Mr. Peacock, with a simpler 
 gravity, " you are at liberty, of course, to say what you please 
 to my lady, but I hope you'll not try to take the bread out of 
 my mouth because I wear a livery, and am fool enough to be 
 in love with a waiting-woman I, sir, who could have married 
 ladies who have played the first parts in life on the metro- 
 politan stage." 
 
 I had nothing to say to these representations they seemed 
 plausible ; and though, at first, I had suspected that the man 
 had only resorted to the buffoonery of his quotations in order 
 to gain time for invention, or to divert my notice from any 
 flaw in his narrative, yet at the close, as the narrative seemed 
 probable, so I was willing to believe the buffoonery was
 
 34d THE CAXTONS. 
 
 merely characteristic. I contented myself, therefore, with 
 asking : 
 
 " Where do you come from now ? " 
 
 " From Mr. Trevanion, in the country, with letters to Lady 
 Ellinor." 
 
 "Oh ! and so the young woman knew you were coming to 
 town ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; Mr. Trevanion told me, some days ago, the day 
 I should have to start." 
 
 " And what do you and the young woman propose doing 
 to-morrow, if there is no change of plan ? " 
 
 Here I certainly thought there was a slight, scarce percept- 
 ible, alteration in Mr. Peacock's countenence, but he answered 
 readily: "Tomorrow, a little assignation, if we can both 
 get out 
 
 ' Woo me, now I am in a holiday humor. 
 And like enough to consent.' 
 
 Swan again, sir." 
 
 " Humph ! so then, Mr. Gower and Mr. Vivian are the same 
 person ? " 
 
 Peacock hesitated. " That's not my secret, sir ; 'I am 
 combined by a sacred vow.' You are too much the gentleman 
 to peep through the blanket of the dark, and to ask me, who 
 wear the whip, and stripes I mean the plush small-clothes 
 and shoulderknots the secrets of another gent, to whom ' my 
 services are bound.' ' 
 
 How a man past thirty foils a man scarcely twenty ! What 
 superiority the mere fact of living-on gives to the dullest dog ! 
 I bit my lip and was silent. 
 
 " And," pursued Mr. Peacock, " if you knew how the Mr. 
 Vivian you inquired after loves you ! When I told him inci- 
 dentally, how a young gentleman had come behind the scenes 
 to inquire after him, he made me describe you, and then said, 
 quite mournfully : ' If ever I am what I hope to become, how 
 happy I shall be to shake that kind hand once more,' very 
 words, sir ! honor bright ! 
 
 ' I think there's ne'er a man in Christendom 
 Can lesser hide his hate or love than he.' 
 
 And if Mr. Vivian has some reason to keep himself concealed 
 still if his fortune or ruin depend on your not divulging his 
 secret for a while I can't think you are the man he need fear. 
 'Pon my life, 
 
 ' I wish I was as sure of a good dinner,' 
 
 as the Swan touchingly exclaims. I dare swear that was 4
 
 THE CAXTONS. 341 
 
 wish often on the Swan's lips in the privacy of his domestic 
 life ! " 
 
 My heart was softened, not by the pathos of the much pro- 
 faned and desecrated Swan, but by Mr. Peacock's unadorned 
 repetition of Vivian's words ; I turned my face from the sharp 
 eyes of my companion the cab now stopped at the foot of 
 London Bridge. 
 
 I had no more to ask, yet still there was some uneasy curi- 
 osity in my mind, which I could hardly define to myself, was 
 it .not jealousy? Vivian so handsome and so daring he at 
 least might see the great heiress ; Lady Ellinor perhaps 
 thought of no danger there. But I I was a lover still, 
 and nay, such thoughts were folly indeed ! 
 
 " My man," said I to the ex-comedian, " I neither wish to 
 harm Mr. Vivian (if I am so to call him), nor you who imitate 
 him in the variety of your names. But I tell you fairly, that I 
 do not like your being in Mr. Trevanion's employment, and I 
 advise you to get out of it as soon as possible. I say nothing 
 more as yet, for I shall take time to consider well what you 
 have told me." 
 
 With that I hastened away, and Mr. Peacock continued his 
 solitary journey over London Bridge. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AMIDST all that lacerated my heart, or tormented my 
 thoughts, that eventful day, I felt at least one joyous emotion, 
 when, on entering our little drawing-room, I found my uncle 
 seated there. 
 
 The Captain had placed before him on the table a large 
 Bible, borrowed from the landlady. He never travelled, to be 
 sure, without his own Bible, but the print of that was small, 
 and the Captain's eyes began to fail him at night. So this 
 was a Bible with large type ; and a candle was placed on either 
 side of it ; and the Captain leant his elbows on the table, and 
 both his hands were tightly clasped upon his forehead tightly, 
 as if to shut out the tempter, and force his whole soul upon 
 the page. 
 
 He sat the image of iron courage ; in every line of that 
 rigid form there was resolution. " I will not listen to my 
 heart ; I will read the Book, and learn to suffer as becomes a 
 Christian man." 
 
 There was such a pathos in the stern sufferer's attitude,
 
 342 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 that it spoke those words as plainly as if his lips had said 
 them. 
 
 Old soldier ! thou hast done a soldier's part in many a 
 bloody field ; but if I could make visible to the world thy brave 
 soldier's soul, I would paint thee as I saw thee then ! Out on 
 this tyro's hand ! 
 
 At the movement I made, the Captain looked up, and the 
 strife he had gone through was written upon his face. 
 
 " It has done me good," said he simply, and he closed the 
 book. 
 
 I drew my chair near to him, and hung my arm over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " No cheering news, then ? " asked I in a whisper. 
 
 Roland shook his head, and gently laid his finger on his lips. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IT was impossible for me to intrude upon Roland's thoughts, 
 whatever their nature, with a detail of those circumstances 
 which had roused in me a keen and anxious interest in things 
 apart from his sorrow. 
 
 Yet as " restless I roll'd around my weary bed," and revolved 
 the renewal of Vivian's connection with a man of character so 
 equivocal as Peacock, the establishment of an able and un- 
 scrupulous tool of his own in the service of Trevanion, the 
 care with which he had concealed from me his change of name, 
 and his intimacy at the very house to which I had frankly 
 offered to present him ; the familiarity which his creature had 
 contrived to effect with Miss Trevanion's maid, the words that 
 had passed between them plausibly accounted for, it is true, 
 yet still suspicious and, above all, my painful recollections of 
 Vivian's reckless ambition and unprincipled sentiments nay, 
 the effect that a few random words upon Fanny's fortune, and 
 the luck of winning an heiress, had sufficed to produce upon 
 his heated fancy and audacious temper : when all these 
 thoughts came upon me, strong and vivid, in the darkness of 
 night, I longed for some confidant, more experienced in the 
 world than myself, to advise me as to the course I ought to 
 pursue. Should I warn Lady Ellinor? But of what ? The 
 character of a servant, or the designs of the fictitious Gower ? 
 Against the first I could say, if nothing very positive, still 
 enough to make it prudent to dismiss him. But of Gower or 
 Vivian, what could I say without not indeed betraying his 
 confidence, for that he had never given me, but without bely.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 343 
 
 Ing the professions of friendship that I myself had lavishly 
 made to him ? Perhaps, after all, he might have disclosed 
 whatever were his real secrets to Trevanion ; and if not I 
 might indeed ruin his prospects by revealing the aliases he 
 assumed. But wherefore reveal, and wherefore warn ? Be- 
 cause of suspicions that I could not myself analyze suspicions 
 founded on circumstances most of which had already been 
 seemingly explained away. Still, when morning came, I was 
 irresolute what to do ; and after watching Roland's counte- 
 nance, and seeing on his brow so great a weight of care, that 
 I had no option but to postpone the confidence I pined to 
 place in his strong understanding and unerring sense of honor, 
 I wandered out, hoping that in the fresh air I might recollect 
 my thoughts, and solve the problem that perplexed me. I had 
 enough to do in sundry small orders for my voyage, and com- 
 missions for Bolding, to occupy me some hours. And, this 
 business done, I found myself moving westward : mechanically 
 as it were, I had come to a kind of half-and-half resolution to 
 call upon Lady Ehmor, and question her, carelessly and inci- 
 dentally, both about Gower and the new servant admitted to 
 the household. 
 
 Thus I found myself in Regent Street, when a carriage, 
 borne by post-horses, whirled rapidly over the pavement 
 scattering to the right and left all humbler equipages and 
 hurried, as if on an errand of life and death, up the broad 
 thoroughfare leading into Portland Place. But, rapidly as 
 the wheels dashed by, I had seen distinctly the face of Fanny 
 Trevanion in the carriage, and that face wore a strange expres- 
 sion, which seemed to me to speak of anxiety and grief; and, 
 by her side was not that the woman I had seen with Peacock ? 
 I did not see the face of the woman, but I thought I recognized 
 the cloak, the bonnet, and peculiar turn of the head. If I 
 could be mistaken there, I was not mistaken, at least, as to the 
 servant on the seat behind. Looking back at a butcher's boy 
 who had just escaped being run over, and was revenging him- 
 self by all the imprecations the Dirse of London slang could 
 suggest, the face of Mr. Peacock was exposed in full to my 
 gaze. 
 
 My first impulse, on recovering my surprise, was to spring 
 after the carriage; in the haste of that impulse, I cried " Stop! " 
 But the carriage was out of sight in a moment, and my word 
 was lost in air. Full of presentiments of some evil I knew 
 not what I then altered my course, and stopped not, till I 
 found myself, panting and out of breath, in St. James's Square,
 
 344 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 at the door of Trevanion's house in the hall. The porter had 
 a newspaper in his hand as he admitted me. 
 
 "Where is Lady Ellinor? I must see her instantly." 
 
 " No worse news of master, I hope, sir?" 
 
 " Worse news of what ? Of whom ? Of Mr. Trevanion ?" 
 
 " Did you not know he was suddenly taken ill, sir ; that a 
 servant came express to say so last night ? Lady Ellinor went 
 off at ten o'clock to join him." 
 
 " At ten o'clock last night ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; the servant's account alarmed her ladyship so 
 much." 
 
 " The new servant, who had been recommended by Mr. 
 Gower ?." 
 
 " Yes, sir Henry," answered the porter, staring at me. 
 " Please, sir, here is an account of master's attack in the paper. 
 I suppose Henry took it to the office before he came here, 
 which was very wrong in him ; but I am afraid he's a very 
 foolish fellow." 
 
 " Never mind that. Miss Trevanion I saw her just now 
 she did not go with her mother : where was she going, then ? " 
 
 " Why, sir but pray step into the parlor." 
 
 " No, no speak ! " 
 
 " Why, sir, before Lady Ellinor set out, she was afraid that 
 there might be something in the papers to alarm Miss Fanny, 
 and so she sent Henry down to Lady Castleton's to beg her 
 ladyship to make as light of it as she could ; but it seems that 
 Henry blabbed the worst to Mrs. Mole." 
 
 " Who is Mrs. Mole ? " 
 
 " Miss Trevanion's maid, sir a new maid ; and Mrs. Mole 
 blabbed to my young lady, and so she took fright, and insisted 
 on coming to town. And Lady Castleton, who is ill herself 
 in bed, could not keep her, I suppose, especially as Henry 
 said, though he ought to have known better, ' that she would 
 be in time to arrive before my lady set off.' Poor Miss Tre- 
 vanion was so disappointed when she found her mamma gone. 
 And then she would order fresh horses, and would go on, 
 though Mrs. Bates (the housekeeper, you know, sir) was very 
 angry with Mrs. Mole, who encouraged Miss ; and " 
 
 " Good Heavens ! Why did not Mrs. Bates go with her ? " 
 
 " Why, sir, you know how old Mrs. Bates is, and my young 
 lady is always so kind that she would not hear of it, as she is 
 going to travel night and day ; and Mrs. Mole said she had 
 gone all over the world with her last lady, and that " 
 
 " I see it all. Where is Mr. Gower ? "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 345 
 
 " Mr. Gower, sir ! " 
 
 " Yes ! Can't you answer ?" 
 
 " Why, with Mr. Trevanion, I believe, sir." 
 
 '' In the north what is the address ? " 
 
 " Lord N , C Hall, near W ." 
 
 I heard no more. 
 
 The conviction of some villanous snare struck me as with 
 the swiftness and force of lightning. Why, if Trevanion were 
 really ill, had the false servant concealed it from me ? Why 
 suffered me to waste his time, instead of hastening to Lady 
 Ellinor ? How, if Mr. Trevanion's sudden illness had brought 
 the man to London how had he known so long beforehand 
 (as he himself told me, and his appointment with the wait- 
 ing-woman proved) the day he should arrive ? Why now, 
 if there was no design of which Miss Trevanion was the 
 object why so frustrate the provident foresight of her mother, 
 and take advantage of the natural yearning of affection, the 
 quick impulse of youth, to hurry off a girl whose very station 
 forbade her to take such a journey without suitable protec- 
 tion against what must be the wish, and what clearly were 
 the instructions, of Lady Ellinor? Alone, worse than alone ! 
 Fanny Trevanion was then in the hands of two servants, who 
 were the instruments and confidants of an adventurer like 
 Vivian ; and that conference between those servants those 
 broken references to the morrow, coupled with the name 
 Vivian had assumed : needed the unerring instincts of love 
 more cause for terror ? terror the darker, because the exact 
 shape it should assume was obscure and indistinct. 
 
 I sprang from the house. 
 
 I hastened into the Haymarket, summoned a cabriolet, 
 drove home as fast as I could (for I had no money about me 
 for the journey I meditated) ; sent the servant of the lodging 
 to engage a chaise-and-four, rushed into the room where 
 Roland fortunately still was, and exclaimed : " Uncle, come 
 with me ! take money, plenty of money ! some villany I 
 know, though I can't explain it, has been practised on the 
 Trevanions. We may defeat it yet. I will tell you all by the 
 way come, come ! " 
 
 " Certainly. But villany ! and to people of such a station 
 pooh ! collect yourself. Who is the villain ? " 
 
 " Oh, the man I had loved as a friend the man whom I 
 myself helped to make known to Trevanion Vivian Vivian ! " 
 
 " Vivian ! ah, the youth I have heard you speak of. But 
 how ? Villany to whom to Trevanion ? "
 
 346 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 "You torture me with your questions. Listen this Vivian 
 (I know him) he has introduced into the house, as a servant, 
 an agent capable of any trick and fraud ; that servant has aided 
 him to win over her maid Fanny's Miss Trevanion's. Miss 
 Trevanion is an heiress, Vivian an adventurer. My head 
 swims round, I cannot explain now. Ha ! I will write a line 
 to Lord Castleton tel) him my fears and suspicions he will 
 follow us, I know, or do what is best." 
 
 I drew ink and paper towards me, and wrote hastily. My 
 uncle came round and looked over my shoulder. 
 
 Suddenly he exclaimed, seizing my arm : " Gower, Gower ! 
 What name is this ? You said ' Vivian. 1 " 
 
 " Vivian or Gower the same person." 
 
 My uncle hurried out of the room. It was natural that he 
 should leave me to make our joint and brief preparations for 
 departure. 
 
 I finished my letter, sealed it, and when, five minutes after- 
 wards, the chaise came to the door, I gave it to the ostler who 
 accompanied the horses, with injunctions to deliver it forth- 
 with to Lord Castleton himself. 
 
 My uncle now descended, and stepped from the threshold 
 with a firm stride. " Comfort yourself," he said, as he entered 
 the chaise, into which I had already thrown myself. " We 
 may be mistaken yet." 
 
 " Mistaken ! You do not know this young man. He has 
 every quality that could entangle a girl like Fanny, and not, I 
 fear, one sentiment of honor, that would stand in the way of 
 his ambition. I judge him now as by a revelation too late 
 oh Heavens, if it be too late ! " 
 
 A groan broke from Roland's lips. I heard in it a proof of 
 his sympathy with my emotion, and grasped his hand ; it was 
 as cold as the hand of the dead. 
 
 PART FIFTEENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THERE would have been nothing in what had chanced to 
 justify the suspicions that tortured me, but for my impressions 
 as to the character of Vivian. 
 
 Reader, hast thou not, in the easy, careless sociability of
 
 THE CAXTONS. 347 
 
 youth, formed acquaintance with some one, in whose more 
 engaging or brilliant qualities thou hast not lost that dislike 
 to defects or vices which is natural to an age when, even while 
 we err, we adore what is good, and glow with enthusiasm for 
 the ennobling sentiment and the virtuous deed no, happily, 
 not lost dislike to what is bad, nor thy quick sense of it but 
 conceived a keen interest in the struggle between the bad that 
 revolted, and the good that attracted thee, in thy companion? 
 Then, perhaps, thou hast lost sight of him for a time ; sud- 
 denly thou hearest that he has done something out of the way 
 of ordinary good or commonplace evil ; and, in either the 
 good or the evil thy mind runs rapidly back over its old 
 reminiscences, and of either thou sayest : " How natural ! 
 only So-and-so could have done this thing ! " 
 
 Thus I felt respecting Vivian. The most remarkable quali- 
 ties in his character were his keen power of calculation, and 
 his unhesitating audacity qualities that lead to fame or to 
 infamy, according to the cultivation of the moral sense and the 
 direction of the passions. Had I recognized those qualities 
 in some agency apparently of good and it seemed yet doubt- 
 ful if Vivian were the agent I should have cried : " It is he ! 
 and the better angel has triumphed !" With the same (alas! 
 with a yet more impulsive) quickness, when the agency was of 
 evil, and the agent equally dubious, I felt that the qualities 
 revealed the man, and that the demon had prevailed. 
 
 Mile after mile, stage after stage, were passed, on the dreary, 
 interminable, high north road. I narrated to my companion, 
 more intelligibly than I had yet done, my causes for apprehen- 
 sion. The Captain at first listened eagerly, then checked me 
 on the sudden. " There may be nothing in all this ! " he 
 cried. " Sir, we must be men here have our heads cool, our 
 reason clear ; stop ! " And, leaning back in the chaise, Roland 
 refused farther conversation, and, as the night advanced, 
 seemed to sleep. I took pity on his fatigue, and devoured my 
 heart in silence. At each stage we heard of the party of which 
 we were in pursuit. At the first stage or two we were less 
 than an hour behind ; gradually, as we advanced, we lost 
 ground, despite the most lavish liberality to the post-boys. I 
 supposed, at length, that the mere circumstance of changing, 
 at each relay, the chaise as well as the horses, was the cause 
 of our comparative slowness ; and, on saying this to Roland, 
 as we were changing horses, somewhere about midnight, he at 
 once called up the master of the inn, and gave him his own 
 price for permission to retain the chaise till the journey's end.
 
 348 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 This was so unlike Roland's ordinary thrift, whether dealing 
 with my money or his own so unjustified by the fortune of 
 either that I could not help muttering something in apology. 
 
 " Can you guess why I was a miser ? " said Roland calmly. 
 
 " A miser ! anything but that ! Only prudent military 
 men often are so." 
 
 " I was a miser," repeated the Captain, with emphasis. " I 
 began the habit first when my son was but a child. I thought 
 him high-spirited, and with a taste for extravagance. ' Well,' 
 said I to myself, ' I will save for him ; boys will be boys.' 
 Then, afterwards, when he was no more a child (at least he 
 began to have the vices of a man !), I said to myself : 
 ' Patience, he may reform still ; if not, I will save money, that 
 1 may have power over his self-interest, since I have none 
 over his heart. I will bribe him into honor ! ' And then 
 and then God saw that I was very proud, and I was pun- 
 ished. Tell them to drive faster faster why, this is a snail's 
 pace ! " 
 
 All that night, all the next day, till towards the evening, we 
 pursued our journey without pause, or other food than a crust 
 of bread and a glass of wine. But we now picked up the 
 ground we had lost, and gained upon the carriage. The night 
 had closed in when we arrived at the stage at which the route 
 
 to Lord N 's branched from the direct north road. And 
 
 here, making our usual inquiry, my worst suspicions were con- 
 firmed. The carriage we pursued had changed horses an hour 
 before, but had not taken the way to Lord N 's ; continu- 
 ing the direct road into Scotland. The people of the inn had 
 not seen the lady in the carriage, for it was already dark, but 
 the man-servant (whose livery they described) had ordered the 
 horses. 
 
 The last hope that, in spite of appearances, no treachery 
 had been designed, here vanished. The Captain, at first, 
 seemed more dismayed than myself, but he recovered more 
 quickly. " We will continue the journey on horseback," he 
 said ; and hurried to the stables. All objections vanished at 
 the sight of his gold. In five minutes we were in the saddle, 
 with a postilion, also mounted, to accompany us. We did the 
 next stage in little more than two-thirds of the time which we 
 should have occupied in our former mode of travel indeed, I 
 found it hard to keep pace with Roland. We remounted ; we 
 were only twenty-five minutes behind the carriage. We felt 
 confident that we should overtake it before it could reach the 
 next town the moon was up we could see far before us
 
 THE CAXTONS. 349 
 
 we rode at full speed. Milestone after milestone glided by -,. 
 the carriage was not visible. We arrived at the post-town, or 
 rather village ; it contained but one posting-house. We were 
 long in knocking up the ostlers no carriage had arrived just 
 before us ; no carriage had passed the place since noon. 
 
 What mystery was this ? 
 
 " Back, back, boy ! " said Roland, with a soldier's quick wit, 
 and spurring his jaded horse from the yard. " They will have 
 taken a cross-road or by-lane. We shall track them by the 
 hoofs of the horses, or the print of the wheels." 
 
 Our postilion grumbled, and pointed to the panting sides of 
 our horses. For answer, Roland opened his hand full of 
 gold. Away we went back through the dull, sleeping village, 
 back into the broad, moonlit thoroughfare. We came to a 
 cross-road to the right, but the track we pursued still led us 
 straight on. We had measured back nearly half the way to 
 the post-town at which we had last changed, when lo ! there 
 emerged from a by-lane two postilions and their horses ! 
 
 At that sight, our companion, shouting loud, pushed on 
 before us and hailed his fellows. A few words gave us the 
 information we sought. A wheel had come off the carriage 
 just by the turn of the road, and the young lady and her ser- 
 vants had taken refuge in a small inn not many yards down 
 the lane. The man-servant had dismissed the postboys after 
 they had baited their horses, saying they were to come again in 
 the morning, and bring a blacksmith to repair the wheel. 
 
 " How came the wheel off ? " asked Roland sternly. 
 
 " Why, sir, the linch-pin was all rotted away, I suppose, and 
 came out." 
 
 " Did the servant get off the dickey after you set out, and 
 before the accident happened ? " 
 
 " Why, yes. He said the wheels were catching fire, that 
 they had not the patent axles, and he had forgot to have them 
 oiled." 
 
 " And he looked at the wheels, and shortly afterwards the 
 linch-pin came out ? Eh ? " 
 
 " Anan, sir ! " said the postboy, staring ; " why, and indeed 
 so it was ! " 
 
 " Come on, Pisistratus, we are in time ; but pray God pray 
 God that " the Captain dashed his spur into the horse's 
 sides, and the rest of his words was lost to me. 
 
 A few yards back from the causeway, a broad patch of green 
 before it, stood the inn a sullen, old-fashioned building of 
 cold gray stone, looking livid in the moonlight, with black
 
 350 THE CAXTONS. ' 
 
 firs at one side, throwing over half of it a dismal shadow. So 
 solitary ! not a house, not a hut near it. If they who kept the 
 inn were such that villany might reckon on their connivance, 
 and innocence despair of their aid there was no neighbor- 
 hood to alarm, no refuge at hand. The spot was well chosen. 
 
 The doors of the inn were closed ; there was a light in the 
 room below ; but the outside shutters were drawn over the 
 windows on the first floor. My uncle paused a moment, and 
 said to the postilion : 
 
 " Do you know the back way to the premises ? " 
 
 " No, sir : I doesn't often come by this way, and they be 
 new folks that have taken the house and I hear it don't, 
 prosper over much." 
 
 " Knock at the door ; we will stand a little aside while you 
 do so. If any one ask what you want, merely say you would 
 speak to the servant that you have found a purse here, hold 
 up mine." 
 
 Roland and I had dismounted, and my uncle drew me close 
 to the wall by the door. Observing that my impatience ill 
 submitted to what seemed to me idle preliminaries 
 
 " Hist ! " whispered he ; " if there be anything to conceal 
 within, they will not answer the door till some one has recon- 
 noitred ; were they to see us, they would refuse to open. But 
 seeing only the postboy, whom they will suppose at first to be 
 one of those who brought the carriage, they will have no sus- 
 picion. Be ready to rush in the moment the door is unbarred." 
 
 My uncle's veteran experience did not deceive him. There 
 was a long silence before any reply was made to the postboy's 
 summons ; the light passed to and fro rapidly across the win- 
 dow, as if persons were moving within. Roland made sign to 
 the postboy to knock again ; he did so twice thrice and at 
 last, from an attic window in the roof, a head obtruded, and a 
 voice cried : " Who are you ? What do you want ? " 
 
 " I'm the postboy at the Red Lion ; I want to see the ser- 
 vant with the brown carriage : I have found this purse ! " 
 
 " Oh, that's all wait a bit." 
 
 The head disappeared ; we crept along under the projecting 
 eaves of the house ; we heard the bar lifted from the door ; 
 the door itself cautiously opened ; one spring, and I stood 
 within, and set my back to the door to admit Roland. 
 
 " Ho, help ! thieves ! help ! " cried a loud voice, and I 
 felt a hand gripe at my throat. I struck at random in the 
 dark, and with effect, for my blow was followed by a groan 
 and a curse.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 351 
 
 Roland, meanwhile, had detected a ray through the chinks 
 of a door in the hall, and, guided by it, found his way into the 
 room at the window of which we had seen the light pass and 
 go, while without. As he threw the door open, I bounded 
 after him, and saw, in a kind of parlor, two females the one 
 a stranger, no doubt the hostess, the other the treacherous 
 abigail. Their faces evinced their terror. 
 
 " Woman," I said, seizing the last, " where is Miss Tre- 
 Vanion ? " Instead of replying, the woman set up a loud 
 shriek. Another light now gleamed from the staircase which 
 immediately faced the door ; and I heard a voice, that I 
 recognized as Peacock's, cry out : " Who's there ? What's the 
 matter ? " 
 
 I made a rush at the stairs. A burly form (that of the 
 landlord, who had recovered from my blow) obstructed my 
 way for a moment, to measure its length on the floor at the 
 next. I was at the top of the stairs ; Peacock recognized me, 
 recoiled, and extinguished the light. Oaths, cries, and shrieks 
 now resounded through the dark. Amidst them all, I sud- 
 denly heard a voice exclaim, " Here, here ! help ! " It was 
 the voice of Fanny. I made my way to the right, whence the 
 voice came, and received a violent blow. Fortunately, it fell 
 on the arm which I extended, as men do who feel their way 
 through the dark. It was not the right arm, and I seized and 
 closed on my assailant. Roland now came up, a candle in his 
 hand, and at that sight my antagonist, who was no other than 
 Peacock, slipped from me, and made a rush at the stairs. But 
 the Captain caught him with his grasp of iron. Fearing noth- 
 ing for Roland in a contest with any single foe, and all my 
 thoughts bent on the rescue of her whose voice again broke on 
 my ear, I had already (before the light of the candle which 
 Roland held went out in the struggle between himself and 
 Peacock) caught sight of a door at the end of the passage f 
 and thrown myself against it : it was locked, but it shook and 
 groaned to my pressure. 
 
 " Hold back, whoever you are ! " cried a voice from ? 
 room within, far different from that wail of distress which 
 had guided my steps. " Hold back, at the peril of your 
 life ! " 
 
 The voice, the threat, redoubled my strength ; the door flew 
 from its fastenings. I stood in the room. I saw Fanny at my 
 feet, clasping my hands ; then, raising herself, she hung on 
 my shoulder and murmured " Saved ! " Opposite to me, his 
 face deformed by passion, his eyes literally blazing with
 
 352 THE CAXTON3. 
 
 savage fire, his nostrils distended, his lips apart, stood the 
 man I have called Francis Vivian. 
 
 " Fanny Miss Trevanion what outrage what villany is 
 this ? You have not met this man at your free choice oh, 
 speak ! " Vivian sprang forward. 
 
 " Question no one but me. Unhand that lady, she is my 
 betrothed shall be my wife ! " 
 
 " No, no, no, don't believe him," cried Fanny ; " I have 
 been betrayed by my own servants brought here, I know 
 not how ! I heard my father was ill ; I was on my way to 
 him : that man met me here, and dared to " 
 
 " Miss Trevanion yes, I dared to say I loved you." 
 
 " Protect me from him ! you will protect me from 
 him ! " 
 
 " No, madam ! " said a voice behind me, in a deep tone, " it 
 is I who claim the right to protect you from that man ; it is I 
 who now draw around you the arm of one sacred, even to him ; 
 it is I who, from this spot, launch upon his head a father's 
 curse. Violator of the hearth ! Baffled ravisher ! go thy 
 way to the doom which thou hast chosen for thyself. God 
 will be merciful to me yet, and give me a grave before thy 
 course find its close in the hulks or at the gallows ! " 
 
 A sickness came over me a terror froze my veins I reeled 
 back, and leant for support against the wall. Roland had 
 passed his arm round Fanny, and she, frail and trembling, 
 clung to his broad breast, looking fearfully up to his face. 
 And never in that face, ploughed by deep emotions, and dark 
 with unutterable sorrows, had I seen an expression so grand 
 in its wrath, so sublime in its despair. Following the direction 
 of his eye, stern and fixed as the look of one who prophesies a 
 destiny and denounces a doom, I shivered as I gazed upon 
 the son. His whole frame seemed collapsed and shrinking, as 
 if already withered by the curse ; a ghastly whiteness over- 
 spread the cheek, usually glowing with the dark bloom of 
 oriental youth ; the knees knocked together ; and, at last, with 
 a faint exclamation of pain, like the cry of one who receives a 
 deathblow, he bowed his face over his clasped hands, and so 
 remained still, but cowering. 
 
 Instinctively I advanced, and placed myself between the 
 father and the son, murmuring : " Spare him ; see, his own 
 heart crushes him down." Then stealing towards the son, I 
 whispered : " Go, go ; the crime was not committed, the curse 
 can be recalled." But my words touched a wrong chord in 
 that dark and rebellious nature. The young man withdrew
 
 THE CAXTONS. 353 
 
 his hands hastily from his face and reared his front in passion- 
 ate defiance. 
 
 Waving me aside, he cried : " Away ! I acknowledge no 
 authority over my actions and my fate ; I allow no mediator 
 between this lady and myself. Sir," he continued, gazing 
 gloomily on his father "Sir, you forget our compact. Our 
 ties were severed, your power over me annulled ; I resigned 
 the name you bear ; to you I was, and am still, as the dead. 
 I deny your right to step between me and the object dearer to 
 me than life." 
 
 " Oh ! " (and here he stretched forth his hands towards 
 Fanny) " Oh, Miss Trevanion, do not refuse me one prayer, 
 however you condemn me. Let me see you alone but for one 
 moment ; let me but prove to you that, guilty as I may have 
 been, it was not from the base motives you will hear imputed 
 to me ; that it was not the heiress I sought to decoy, it was 
 the woman I sought to win ; oh, hear me " 
 
 " No, no," murmured Fanny, clinging closer to Roland, 
 " do not leave me. If, as it seems, he is your son, I forgive 
 him ; but let him go I shudder at his very voice ! " 
 
 " Would you have me, indeed, annihilate the memory of the 
 bond between us ? " said Roland, in a hollow voice ; " Would 
 you have me see in you only the vile thief, the lawless felon 
 deliver you up to justice, or strike you to my feet ? Let 
 the memory still save you, and begone ! " 
 
 Again I caught hold of the guilty son, and again he broke 
 from my grasp. 
 
 " It is," he said, folding his arms deliberately on his breast 
 " It is for me to command in this house ; all who are within it 
 must submit to my orders. You, sir, who hold reputation, 
 name, and honor, at so high a price, how can you fail to see 
 that you would rob them from the lady whom you would pro- 
 tect from the insult of my affection ? How would the world 
 receive the tale of your rescue of Miss Trevanion ? How 
 believe that oh, pardon me, madam Miss Trevanion 
 Fanny pardon me I am mad ; only hear me alone alone 
 and then if you, too, say ' Begone,' I submit without a mur- 
 mur ; I allow no arbiter but you." 
 
 But Fanny still clung closer, and closer still, to Roland. 
 At that moment I heard voices and the trampling of feet 
 below, and supposing that the accomplices in this villany were 
 mustering courage, perhaps, to mount to the assistance of their 
 employer, I lost all the compassion that had hitherto softened 
 my horror of the young man's crime, and all the awe with
 
 354 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 which that confession had been attended. I therefore, this 
 time, seized the false Vivian with a gripe that he could no 
 longer shake off, and said sternly : 
 
 " Beware how you aggravate your offence. If strife ensues, 
 it will not be between father and son, and " 
 
 Fanny sprang forward. " Do not provoke this bad, dan- 
 gerous man. I fear him not. Sir, I will hear you, and alone." 
 
 " Never .' "' cried I and Roland simultaneously. 
 
 Vivian turned his look fiercely to me, and with a sullen bit- 
 terness to his father, and then, as if resigning his former 
 prayer, he said : " Well, then, be it so ; even in the presence 
 of those who judge me so severely, I will speak, at least." He 
 paused, and throwing into his voice a passion that, had the 
 repugnance at his guilt been less, would not have been without 
 pathos, he continued to address Fanny : " I own that, when 
 I first saw you, I might have thought of love, as the poor and 
 ambitious think of the way to wealth and power. Those 
 thoughts vanished, and nothing remained in my heart but love 
 and madness. I was as a man in a delirium when I planned 
 this snare. I knew but one object, saw but one heavenly 
 vision. Oh ! mine mine at least in that vision are you 
 indeed lost to me forever ! " 
 
 There was that in this man's tone and manner which, 
 whether arising from accomplished hypocrisy or actual, if per- 
 verted, feeling, would, I thought, find its way at once to the 
 heart of a woman who, however wronged, had once loved him ; 
 and, with a cold misgiving, I fixed my eyes on Miss Trevanion. 
 Her look, as she turned with a visible tremor, suddenly met 
 mine, and I believe that she discerned my doubt, for after suf- 
 fering her eyes to rest on my own with something of mournful 
 reproach, her lips curved as with the pride of her mother, and 
 for the first time in my life I saw anger on her brow. 
 
 " It is well, sir, that you have thus spoken to me in the 
 presence of others, for in their presence I call upon you to say, 
 by that honor which the son of this gentleman may for a while 
 forget, but cannot wholly forfeit, I call upon you to say, 
 whether by deed, word, or sign, I, Frances Trevanion, ever 
 gave you cause to believe that I returned the feeling you say 
 you entertained for me, or encouraged you to dare this attempt 
 to place me in your power." 
 
 " No ! " cried Vivian readily, but with a writhing lip " no ; 
 but where I loved so deeply, perilled all my fortune for one 
 fair and free occasion to tell you so alone, I would not think 
 that such love could meet only loathing and disdain. What !
 
 THE CAXTONS. 355 
 
 has nature shaped me so unkindly, that where I love no love 
 can reply? What ! has the accident of birth shut me out from 
 the right to woo and mate with the highborn ? For the last, 
 at least, that gentleman in justice should teli you, since it has 
 been his care to instil the haughty lesson into me, that my 
 lineage is one that befits lofty hopes, and warrants fearless 
 ambition. My hopes, my ambition they were you ! Oh, 
 Miss Trevanion, it is true that to win you I would have braved 
 the world's laws, defied every foe, save him who now rises 
 before me. Yet, believe me, believe me, had I won what I 
 dared to aspire to, you would not have been disgraced by your 
 choice ; and the name, for which I thank not my father, should 
 not have been despised by the woman who pardoned my pre- 
 sumption, nor by the man who now tramples on my anguish 
 and curses me in my desolation." 
 
 Not by a word had Roland sought to interrupt his son 
 nay, by a feverish excitement, which my heart understood in 
 its secret sympathy, he had seemed eagerly to court every 
 syllable that could extenuate the darkness of the offence, or 
 even imply some less sordid motive for the baseness of the 
 means. But as the, son now closed with the words of unjust 
 reproach, and the accents of fierce despair closed a defence 
 that showed, in its false pride and its perverted eloquence, so 
 utter a blindness to every principle of that Honor which had 
 been the father's idol, Roland placed his hand before the eyes 
 that he had previously, as if spellbound, fixed on the hard- 
 ened offender, and once more drawing Fanny towards him, 
 said : 
 
 " His breath pollutes the air that innocence and honesty 
 should breathe. He says, ' All in this house are at his com- 
 mand,' why do we stay ? Let us go." He turned towards 
 the door, and Fanny with him. 
 
 Meanwhile the louder sounds below had been silenced for 
 some moments, but I heard a step in the hall. Vivian started, 
 and placed himself before us. 
 
 " No, no, you cannot leave me thus, Miss Trevanion. I 
 resign you be it so ; I do not even ask for pardon. But to 
 leave this house thus, without carriage, without attendants, 
 without explanation ! the blame falls on me it shall do so. 
 But at least vouchsafe me the right to repair what I yet can 
 repair of the wrong, to protect all that is left to me your 
 name." 
 
 As he spoke, he did not perceive (for he was facing us, and 
 with his back to the door) that a new actor had noiselessly
 
 356 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 entered on the scene, and, pausing by the threshold, heard his 
 last words. 
 
 ''The name of Miss Trevanion, sir and from what?" 
 asked the newcomer, as he advanced and surveyed Vivian with 
 a look that, but for its quiet, would have seemed disdain. 
 
 " Lord Castleton ! " exclaimed Fanny, lifting up the face 
 she had buried in her hands. 
 
 Vivian recoiled in dismay, and gnashed his teeth. 
 
 " Sir," said the Marquis. " I await your reply ; for not even 
 you, in my presence, shall imply that one reproach can be 
 attached to the name of that lady." 
 
 " Oh, moderate your tone to me, my Lord Castleton ! " 
 cried Vivian : " in you at least there is one man I am not forbid- 
 den to brave and defy. It was to save that lady from the 
 cold ambition of her parents ; it was to prevent the sacrifice 
 of her youth and beauty to one whose sole merits are his 
 wealth and his titles it was this that impelled me to the 
 crime I have committed, this that hurried me on to risk all 
 for one hour, when youth at least could plead its cause to 
 youth ; and this gives me now the power to say that it does 
 rest with me to protect the name of the lady, whom your very 
 servility to that world which you have made your idol forbids 
 you to claim from the heartless ambition that would sacrifice 
 the daughter to the vanity of the parents. Ha ! the future 
 Marchioness of Castleton on her way to Scotland with a pen- 
 niless adventurer ! Ha ! if my lips are sealed, who but I can 
 seal the lips of those below in my secret ? The secret shall 
 be kept, but on this condition you shall not triumph where I 
 have failed ; I may lose what I adored, but I do not resign it 
 to another. Ha ! have I foiled you, my Lord Castleton ? 
 ha, ha ! " 
 
 " No, sir ; and I almost forgive you the villany you have not 
 effected, for informing me, for the first time, that had I pre- 
 sumed to address Miss Trevanion, her parents at least would 
 have pardoned the presumption. Trouble not yourself as to 
 what your accomplices may say. They have already confessed 
 their infamy and your own. Out of my path, sir ! " 
 
 Then, with the benign look of a father, and the lofty 
 grace of a prince, Lord Castleton advanced to Fanny. Look- 
 ing round with a shudder, she hastily placed her hand in his, 
 and, by so doing, perhaps prevented some violence on the 
 part of Vivian, whose heaving breast, and eye bloodshot, and 
 still unquailing, showed how little even shame had subdued 
 his fiercer passions. But he made no offer to detain them.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 357 
 
 and his tongue seemed to cleave to his lips. Now, as Fanny 
 moved to the door, she passed Roland, who stood motionless 
 and with vacant looks, like an image of stone ; and with a 
 beautiful tenderness, for which (even at this distant date, re- 
 calling it), I say, "God requite thee, Fanny," she laid her 
 other hand on Roland's arm, and said : " Come too : your 
 arm still ! " 
 
 But Roland's limbs trembled and refused to stir ; his head, 
 relaxing, drooped on his breast, his eyes closed. Even Lord 
 Castleton was so struck (though unable to guess the true and 
 terrible cause of his dejection) that he forget his desire to 
 hasten from the spot, and cried with all his kindliness of 
 heart, " You are ill you faint ; give him your arm, Pisis- 
 tratus." 
 
 " It is nothing," said Roland feebly, as he leant heavily on 
 my arm, while I turned back my head with all the bitterness of 
 that reproach which filled my heart, speaking in the eyes that 
 sought /iirn t whose place should have been where mine now 
 was. And, oh ! thank Heaven, thank Heaven ! the look was 
 not in vain. In the same moment the son was at the father's 
 knees. 
 
 " Oh, pardon pardon ! Wretch, lost wretch, though I be, 
 I bow my head to the curse. Let it fall but on me, and on 
 me, only not on your own heart too." 
 
 Fanny burst into tears, sobbing out : " Forgive him as I do." 
 
 Roland did not heed her. 
 
 " He thinks that the heart was not shattered before the 
 curse could come," he said, in a voice so weak as to be scarcely 
 audible. Then, raising his eyes to heaven, his lips moved as 
 if he prayed inly. Pausing, he stretched his hands over his 
 son's head, and averting his face, said : " I revoke the curse. 
 Pray to thy God for pardon." 
 
 Perhaps not daring to trust himself further, he then made a 
 violent effort, and hurried from the room. 
 
 We followed silently. When we gained the end of the pas- 
 sage, the door of the room we had left closed with a sullen jar. 
 
 As the sound smote on my ear, with it came so terrible a 
 sense of the solitude upon which that door had closed so keen 
 and quick an apprehension of some fearful impulse, suggested 
 by passions so fierce, to a condition so forlorn that instinct- 
 ively I stopped, and then hurried back to the chamber. The 
 lock of the door having been previously forced, there was 
 no barrier to oppose my entrance. I advanced, and beheld a 
 spectacle of such agony as can only be conceived by those
 
 358 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 who have looked on the grief which takes no fortitude from 
 reason, no consolation from conscience the grief which tells 
 us what would be the earth were man abandoned to his pas- 
 sions, and the CHANCE of the atheist reigned alone in the mer- 
 ciless heavens. Pride humbled to the dust ; ambition shivered 
 into fragments ; love (or the passion mistaken for it) blasted 
 into ashes ; life, at the first onset, bereaved of its holiest ties, 
 forsaken by its truest guide ; shame that writhed for revenge, 
 and remorse that knew not prayer all, all blended, yet dis- 
 tinct, were in that awful spectacle of the guilty son. 
 
 And I had told but twenty years, and my heart had been 
 mellowed in the tender sunshine of a happy home, and I had 
 loved this boy as a stranger, and, lo ! he was Roland's son ! 
 I forgot all else, looking upon that anguish ; and I threw my- 
 self on the ground by the form that writhed there, and, folding 
 my arms round the breast which in vain repelled me, I whis- 
 pered : " Comfort comfort life is long. You shall redeem 
 the past, you shall efface the stain, and your father shall bless 
 you yet ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I COULD not stay long with my unhappy cousin, but still I 
 stayed long enough to make me think it probable that Lord 
 Castleton's carriage would have left the inn : and when, as I 
 passed the hall, I saw it standing before the open door, I was 
 seized with fear for Roland ; his emotions might have ended 
 in some physical attack. Nor were those fears without foun- 
 dation. I found Fanny kneeling beside the old soldier in the 
 parlor where we had seen the two women, and bathing his 
 temples, while Lord Castleton was binding his arm ; and the 
 Marquis's favorite valet, who, amongst his other gifts, was 
 something of a surgeon, was wiping the blade of the penknife 
 that had served instead of a lancet. Lord Castleton nodded 
 to me : " Don't be uneasy a little fainting fit we have bled 
 him. He is safe now see, he is recovering." 
 
 Roland's eyes, as they opened, turned to me with an anxious, 
 inquiring look. I smiled upon him as I kissed his forehead, 
 and could, with a safe conscience, whisper words which neither 
 father nor Christian could refuse to receive as comfort. 
 
 In a few minutes more we had left the house. As Lord 
 Castleton's carriage only held two, the Marquis, having assisted 
 Miss Trevanion and Roland to enter, quietly mounted the seat 
 behind, and made a sign to me to come by his side, for there
 
 THE CAXTONS. 359 
 
 was room for both. (His servant had taken one of the horses 
 that had brought thither Roland and myself, and already gone 
 on before.) No conversation took place between us then. 
 Lord Castleton seemed profoundly affected, and I had no 
 words at my command. 
 
 When we reached the inn at which Lord Castleton had 
 changed horses, about six miles distant, the Marquis insisted 
 on Fanny's taking some rest for a few hours, for indeed she 
 was thoroughly worn out. 
 
 I attended my uncle to his room, but he only answered my 
 assurances of his son's repentance with a pressure of the hand, 
 and then, gliding* from me, went into the farthest recess of the 
 room, and there knelt down. When he rose, he was passive 
 and tractable as a child. He suffered me to assist him to 
 undress ; and when he had lain down on the bed he turned 
 his face quietly from the light, and after a few heavy sighs, 
 sleep seemed mercifully to steal upon him. I listened to his 
 breathing till it grew low and regular, and then descended to 
 the sitting-room in which I had left Lord Castleton, for he had 
 asked me in a whisper to seek him there. 
 
 I found the Marquis seated by the fire, in a thoughtful and 
 dejected attitude. 
 
 " I am glad you are come," said he, making room for me on 
 the hearth, " for I assure you I have not felt so mournful for 
 many years ; we have much to explain to each other. Will 
 you begin : they say the sound of the bell dissipates the 
 thunder-cloud. And there is nothing like the voice of a 
 frank, honest nature to dispel all the clouds that come upon 
 us when we think of our own faults and the villany of others. 
 But I beg you a thousand pardons that young man, your re- 
 lation ! your brave uncle's son ! Is it possible ! " 
 
 My explanations to Lord Castleton were necessarily brief 
 and imperfect. The separation between Roland his son, my 
 ignorance of its cause, my belief in the death of the latter, my 
 chance acquaintance with the supposed Vivian ; the interest I 
 took in him ; the relief it was to the fears for his fate with 
 which he inspired me, to think he had returned to the home I 
 ascribed to him : and the circumstances which had induced 
 my suspicions, justified by the result all this was soon hur- 
 ried over. 
 
 " But, I beg your pardon," said the Marquis, interrupting 
 me, " did you, in your friendship for one so unlike you, even 
 by your own partial account, never suspect that you had stum- 
 bled upon your lost cousin ? "
 
 360 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Such an idea never could have crossed me." 
 
 And here I must observe, that though the reader, at the 
 first introduction of Vivian, would divine the secret, the pene- 
 tration of a reader is wholly different from that of the actor in 
 events. That I had chanced on one of those curious coinci- 
 dences in the romance of real life, which a reader looks out 
 for and expects in following the course of narrative, was a sup- 
 position forbidden to me by a variety of causes. There was 
 not the least family resemblance between Vivian and any of 
 his relations ; and, somehow or other, in Roland's son I had 
 pictured to myself a form and a character wholly different from 
 Vivian's. To me it would have seemed -inpossible that my 
 cousin could have been so little curious to hear any of our 
 joint family affairs ; been so unheedful, or even weary, if I 
 spoke of Roland ; never, by a word or tone, have betrayed a 
 sympathy with his kindred. And my other conjecture was so 
 probable ! son of the Colonel Vivian whose name he bore. 
 And that letter, with the post-mark of " Godalming ! " and my 
 belief, too, in my cousin's death ; even now I am not surprised 
 that the idea never occurred to me. 
 
 I paused from enumerating these excuses for my dulness, 
 angry with myself, for I noticed that Lord Castleton's fair 
 brow darkened ; and he exclaimed : " What deceit he must 
 have gone through before he could become such a master in 
 the art ! " 
 
 "That is true, and I cannot deny it," said I. "But his 
 punishment now is awful : let us hope that repentance may 
 follow the chastisement. And, though certainly it must have 
 been his own fault that drove him from his father's home and 
 guidance, yet, so driven, let us make some allowance for the 
 influence of evil companionship on one so young for the sus- 
 picions that the knowledge of evil produces, and turns into a 
 kind of false knowledge of the world. And in this last and 
 worst of all his actions " 
 
 " Ah, how justify that ? " 
 
 " Justify it ! good Heavens ! justify it ! no. I only say 
 this, strange as it may seem, that I believe his affection for 
 Miss Trevanion was for herself : so he says, from the depth of 
 en anguish in which the most insincere of men would cease to 
 feign. But no more of this she is saved, thank Heaven ! " 
 
 " And you believe," said Lord Castleton musingly, " that he 
 spoke the truth when he thought that I " The Marquis 
 stopped, colored slightly, and then went on. " But no ; Lady 
 Ellinor and Trevanion, whatever might have been in their
 
 THE CAXTONS. 361 
 
 thoughts, would never have so forgot their dignity as to take 
 him, a youth almost a stranger nay, take any one into their 
 confidence on such a subject." 
 
 " It was but by broken gasps, incoherent, disconnected words, 
 that Vivian I mean my cousin gave me any explanation of 
 
 this. But Lady N , at whose house he was staying, appears 
 
 to have entertained such a notion, or at least led my cousin to 
 think so." 
 
 " Ah ! that is possible," said Lord Castleton, with a look of 
 
 relief. " Lady N and I were boy and girl together ; we 
 
 correspond ; she has written to me suggesting that Ah ! I 
 see an indiscreet woman. Hum ! this comes of lady corre- 
 spondents ! " 
 
 Lord Castleton had recourse to the Beaudesert mixture ; 
 and then, as if eager to change the subject, began his own 
 explanation. On receiving my letter, he saw even more cause 
 to suspect a snare than I had done, for he had that morning 
 received a letter from Trevanion, not mentioning a word about 
 his illness ; and on turning to the newspaper, and seeing a 
 paragraph headed : " Sudden and alarming illness of Mr. 
 Trevanion," the Marquis had suspected some party manoeuvre 
 or unfeeling hoax, since the mail that had brought the letter 
 must have travelled as quickly as any messenger who had 
 given the information to the newspaper. He had, however, 
 immediately sent down to the office of the journal to inquire 
 on what authority the paragraph had been inserted, while he 
 despatched another messenger to St. James's Square. The 
 reply from the office was, that the message had been brought 
 by a servant in Mr. Trevan ion's livery, but was not admitted 
 as news until it had bee'n ascertained by inquiries at the minis- 
 ter's house that Lady Ellinor had received the same intelli- 
 gence, and actually left town in consequence. 
 
 " I was extremely sorry for poor Lady Ellinor's uneasiness," 
 said Lord Castleton, " and extremely puzzled, but I still 
 thought there could be no real ground for alarm until your 
 letter reached me. And when you there stated your convic- 
 tion that Mr. Gower was mixed up in this fable, and that it 
 concealed some snare upon Fanny, I saw the thing at a glance. 
 
 The road to Lord N 's, till within the last stage or two, 
 
 would be the road to Scotland. And a hardy and unscrupu- 
 lous adventurer, with the assistance of Miss Trevanion's ser- 
 vants, might thus entrap her to Scotland itself, and there work 
 on her fears ; or, if he had hope in her affections, entrap her 
 into consent to a Scotch marriage. You may be sure, therefore,
 
 362 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 that I was on the road as soon as possible. But as your mes- 
 senger came all the way from the city, and not so quickly per- 
 haps as he might have come : and then, as there was the carriage 
 to see to, and the horses to send for, I found myself more than 
 an hour and a half behind you. Fortunately, however, I made 
 good ground, and should probably have overtaken you half- 
 way, but that on passing between a ditch and wagon, the car- 
 riage was upset, and that somewhat delayed me. On arriving 
 
 at the town where the road branched off to Lord N 's, 
 
 I was rejoiced to learn you had taken what I was sure would 
 prove the right direction, and finally I gained the clue to that 
 villanous inn by the report of the postboys who had taken 
 Miss Trevanion's carriage there, and met you on the road. On 
 reaching the inn, I found two fellows conferring outside the 
 door. They sprang in as we drove up, but not before my ser- 
 vant Summers a quick fellow, you know, who has travelled 
 with me from Norway to Nubia had quitted his seat, and got 
 into the house, into which I followed him with a step, you dog, 
 as active as your own ! Egad ! I was twenty-one then ! 
 Two fellows had already knocked down poor Summers and 
 showed plenty of fight. Do you know," said the Marquis, 
 interrupting himself with an air of serio-comic humiliation 
 " do you know that I actually no, you never will believe it 
 mind 'tis a secret actually broke my cane over one fellow's 
 shoulders ? look ! " (and the Marquis held up the fragment 
 of the lamented weapon). " And I half suspect, but I can't 
 say positively, that I had even the necessity to demean myself 
 by a blow with the naked hand clenched too ! quite Eton 
 again upon my honor it was. Ha, ha ! " 
 
 And the Marquis whose magnificent proportions, in the 
 full vigor of man's strongest, if not his most combative, age, 
 would have made him a formidable antagonist, even to a couple 
 of prize-fighters, supposing he had retained a little of Eton 
 skill in such encounters laughed with the glee of a school- 
 boy, whether at the thought of his prowess, or his sense of 
 the contrast between so rude a recourse to primitive war- 
 fare, and his own indolent habits and almost feminine good 
 temper. Composing himself, however, with the quick recol- 
 lection how little 1 could share his hilarity, he resumed 
 gravely : " It took us some time I don't say to defeat our 
 foes but to bind them, which I thought a necessary precau- 
 tion ; one fellow, Trevanion's servant, all the while stunning 
 me with quotations from Shakespeare. I then gently laid 
 hold of a gown, the bearer of which had been long trying
 
 THE CAXTONS. 363 
 
 to scratch me ; but being luckily a small woman, had not suc- 
 ceeded in reaching to my eyes. But the gown escaped, and 
 fluttered off to the kitchen. I followed, and there I found 
 Miss Trevanion's Jezebel of a maid. She was terribly fright- 
 ened and affected to be extremely penitent. I own to you that I 
 don't care what a man says in the way of slander, but a woman's 
 tongue against another woman especially if that tongue be 
 in the mouth of a lady's lady I think it always worth silencing ; 
 I therefore consented to pardon this woman on condition she 
 would find her way here before morning. No scandal shall 
 come from her. Thus you see some minutes elapsed before I 
 joined you ; but I minded that the less, as I heard you and 
 the Captain were already in the room with Miss Trevanion ; 
 ?.nd not, alas ! dreaming of your connection with the culprit, 
 I was wondering what could have delayed you so long, afraid, 
 I own it, to find that Miss Trevanion's heart might have been 
 seduced by that hem hem ! handsome young hem 
 hem ! There's no fear of that?" added Lord Castleton anx- 
 iously, as he bent his bright eyes upon mine. 
 
 I felt myself color as I answered firmly : " It is just to Miss 
 Trevanion to add that the unhappy man owned, in her presence 
 and in mine, that he had never had the slightest encouragement 
 for his attempt never one cause to believe that she approved 
 the affection which, I try to think, blinded and maddened him- 
 self." 
 
 11 1 believe you ; for I think " Lord Castleton paused un- 
 easily, again looked at me, rose, and walked about the room 
 with evident agitation ; then, as if he had come to some res- 
 olution, he returned to the hearth and stood facing me. 
 
 " My dear young friend," said he, with his irresistible, kindly 
 frankness, " this is an occasion that excuses all things between 
 us, even my impertinence. Your conduct from first to last 
 has been such, that I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that 
 I had a daughter to offer you, and that you felt for her as I 
 believe you feel for Miss Trevanion. These are not mere 
 words ; do not look down as if ashamed. All the marquisates 
 in the world would never give me the pride I should feel, if I 
 could see in my life one steady self-sacrifice to duty and 
 honor, equal to that which I have witnessed in you." 
 
 " Oh, my lord ! my lord ! " 
 
 " Hear me out. That you love Fanny Trevanion I know ; 
 that she may have innocently, timidly, half-unconsciously, re- 
 turned that affection, I think probable. But " 
 
 * I know what you would say ; spare me I know it all."
 
 364 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " No ! it is a thing impossible ; and, if Lady Ellinor could 
 consent, there would be such a lifelong regret on her part, 
 such a weight of obligation on yours, that no, I repeat, it is 
 impossible ! But let us both think of this poor girl. I know 
 her better than you can have known her from a child ; know 
 all her virtues they are charming ; all her faults they ex- 
 pose her to danger. These parents of hers, with their genius 
 and ambition, may do very well to rule England, and influence 
 the world ; but to guide the fate of that child no ! " Lord 
 Castleton stopped, for he was affected. I felt my old jealousy 
 return, but it was no longer bitter. 
 
 " I say nothing," continued the Marquis, "of this position, 
 in which, without fault of hers, Miss Trevanion is placed : 
 Lady Ellinor's knowledge of the world, and woman's wit, will 
 see how all that can be best put right. Still it is awkward, 
 and demands much consideration. But, putting this aside 
 altogether, if you do firmly believe that Miss Trevanion is lost 
 to you, can you bear to think that she is to be flung as a mere 
 cypher into the account of the worldly greatness of an aspiring 
 politician married to some minister, too busy to watch over 
 her ; or some duke, who looks to pay off his mortgages with 
 her fortune minister or duke only regarded as a prop to 
 Trevanion's power against a counter cabal, or as giving his 
 section a preponderance in the Cabinet? Be assured such 
 is her most likely destiny, or rather the beginning of a des- 
 tiny yet more mournful. Now, I tell you this, that he who 
 marries Fanny Trevanion should have little other object, for 
 the first few years of marriage, than to correct her failings 
 and develop her virtues. Believe one who, alas ! has too 
 dearly bought his knowledge of woman hers is a character to 
 be formed. Well, then, if this prize be lost to you, would it be 
 an irreparable grief to your generous affection to think that it 
 has fallen to the lot of one who at least knows his responsibil- 
 ities, and who will redeem his own life, hitherto wasted, by the 
 steadfast endeavor to fulfil them ? Can you take this hand 
 still, and press it, even though it be a rival's?" 
 
 " My lord ! This from you to me, is an honor that " 
 
 " You will not take my hand ? Then, believe me, it is not I 
 that will give that grief to your heart." 
 
 Touched, penetrated, melted by this generosity in a man of 
 such lofty claims, to one of my age and fortunes, I pressed 
 that noble hand, half raising it to my lips an action of respect 
 that would have misbecome neither ; but he gently withdrew 
 the hand, in the instinct of his natural modesty. I had then
 
 THE CAXTONS. 365 
 
 no heart to speak further on such a subject, but, faltering out 
 that I would go and see my uncle, I took up the light, and 
 ascended the stairs. I crept noiselessly into Roland's room, 
 and shading the light, saw that, though he slept, his face was 
 very troubled. And then I thought: "What are my young 
 griefs to his ? " and sitting beside the bed, communed with my 
 own heart, and was still ! 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Ax sunrise I went down into the sitting-room, having 
 resolved to write to my father to join us ; for i felt how much 
 Roland needed his comfort and his counsel, and it was no 
 great distance from the old Tower. I was surprised to find 
 Lord Castleton still seated by the fire ; he had evidently not 
 gone to bed. 
 
 " That's right," said he ; " we must encourage each other to 
 recruit nature," and he pointed to the breakfast things on the 
 table. 
 
 I had scarcely tasted food for many hours, but I was only 
 aware of my own hunger by a sensation of faintness. I ate 
 unconsciously, and was almost ashamed to feel how much the 
 food restored me. 
 
 "I suppose," said I," that you will soon set off to Lord N.'s?" 
 
 " Nay, did I not tell you, that I have sent Summers express, 
 with a note to Lady Ellinor, begging her to come here ? I did 
 not see, on reflection, how I could decorously accompany Miss 
 Trevanion alone, without even a female servant, to a house 
 full of gossiping guests. And even had 3 7 our uncle been well 
 enough to go with us, his presence would but have created an 
 additional cause for wonder ; so, as soon as we arrived, and 
 while you went up with the Captain, I wrote my letter and 
 despatched my man. 1 expect Lady Ellinor will be here before 
 nine o'clock. Meanwhile, I have already seen that infamous 
 waiting-woman, and taken care to prevent any danger from 
 her garrulity. And you will be pleased to hear that I have hit 
 upon a mode of satisfying the curiosity of our friend Mrs. 
 Grundy that is, ' the World ' without injury to any one. We 
 must suppose that that footman of Trevanion's was out of his 
 mind it is but a charitable, and your good father would 
 say, a philosophical supposition. All great knavery is mad- 
 ness ! The world could not get on if truth and goodness 
 were not the natural tendencies of sane minds. Do you 
 understand ? "
 
 366 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " Not quite." 
 
 "Why, the footman, being out of his mind, invented this 
 mad story of Trevanion's illness, frightened Lady Ellinor and 
 Miss Trevanion out of their wits with his own chimera, and 
 hurried them both off, one after the other. I having heard 
 from Trevanion, and knowing he could not have been ill when 
 the servant left him, set off, as was natural in so old a friend 
 of the family, saved her from the freaks of a maniac, who, 
 getting more and more flighty, was beginning to play the Jack 
 o' Lantern, and leading her, Heaven knows where ! over the 
 country ; and then wrote to Lady Ellinor to come to her. It 
 is but a hearty laugh at our expense, and Mrs. Grundy is con- 
 tent. If you don't want her to pity, or backbite, let her laugh. 
 She is a she-Cerberus she wants to eat you ; well stop her 
 mouth with a cake. 
 
 "Yes," continued this better sort of Aristippus, so wise 
 under all his seeming levities ; "the cue thus given, every- 
 thing favors it. If that rogue of a lackey quoted Shakspeare 
 as much in the servants' hall as he did while I was binding 
 him neck and heels in the kitchen, that's enough for all 
 the household to declare he was moon-stricken ; and if we 
 find it necessary to do anything more, why we must induce 
 him to go into Bedlam for a month or two. The disappearance 
 of the waiting-woman is natural ; either I or Lady Ellinor 
 send her about her business for her folly in being so gulled 
 by the lunatic. If that's unjust, why, injustice to servants is 
 common enough public and private. Neither minister nor 
 lackey can be forgiven, if he help us into a scrape. One 
 must vent one's passion on something. Witness my poor 
 cane : though, indeed, a better illustration would be the cane 
 that Louis XIV. broke on a footman, because his majesty was 
 out of humor with a prince, whose shoulders were too sacred 
 for royal indignation. 
 
 " So you see," concluded Lord Castleton, lowering his 
 voice, " that your uncle, amongst all his other causes of sor- 
 sow, may think at least that his name is spared in his son's. 
 And the young man himself may find reform easier, when 
 freed from that despair of the possibility of redemption, which 
 Mrs. Grundy inflicts upon those who Courage, then ; life is 
 long ! " 
 
 " My very words ! " I cried ; " and so repeated by you, 
 Lord Castleton, they seem prophetic." 
 
 " Take my advice, and don't lose sight of your cousin, while 
 his pride is yet humbled, and his heart perhaps softened. I
 
 THE CAXTONS. 36? 
 
 don't say this only for his sake. No, it is your poor uncle 1 
 think of : noble old fellow. And now, I think it right to pay 
 Lady Ellinor the respect of repairing, as well as I can, the 
 havoc three sleepless nights have made on the exterior of a 
 gentleman who is on the shady side of remorseless forty." 
 
 Lord Castleton here left me, and I wrote to my father, beg- 
 ging him to meet us at the next stage (which was the nearest 
 point from the high road to the Tower), and I sent off the 
 letter by a messenger on horseback. That task done, I leant 
 my head upon my hand, and a profound sadness settled upon 
 me, despite all my efforts to face the future, and think only of 
 the duties of life not its sorrows. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BEFORE nine o'clock, Lady Ellinor arrived, and went 
 straight into Miss Trevanion's room. I took refuge in my 
 uncle's. Roland was awake and calm, but so feeble that he 
 made no effort to rise ; and it was his calm, indeed, that 
 alarmed me the most : it was like the calm of nature thoroughly 
 exhausted, He obeyed me mechanically, as a patient takes 
 from your hand the draught, of which he is almost uncon- 
 scious, when I pressed him to take food. He smiled on me, 
 faintly, when I spoke to him ; but made me a sign that seemed 
 to implore silence. Then he turned his face from me, and 
 buried it in the pillow ; and I thought that he slept again, 
 when, raising himself a little, and feeling for my hand, he said 
 in a scarcely audible voice : 
 
 " Where is he ?" 
 
 " Would you see him, sir ? " 
 
 " No, no ; that would kill me and then what would become 
 of him ?" 
 
 " He has promised me an interview, and in that interview I 
 feel assured he will obey your wishes, whatever they are." 
 
 Roland made no answer. 
 
 " Lord Castleton has arranged all, so that his name and 
 madness (thus let us call it) will never be known." 
 
 " Pride, pride ! pride still ! " murmured the old soldier. 
 " The name, the name well, that is much ; but the living 
 soul ! I wish Austin were here." 
 
 "I have sent for him, sir." 
 
 Roland pressed my hand, and was again silent. Then he 
 began to mutter, as I thought, incoherently, about the Penin- 
 sula and obeying orders ; and how some officer woke Lord
 
 368 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Wellington at night, and said that something or other (I coulc 
 not catch what the phrase was technical and military) was 
 impossible ; and how Lord Wellington asked, " Where's the 
 order-book?" and looking into the order-book, said, " Not at 
 all impossible, for it is in the order-book" ; and so Lord Wel- 
 lington turned round and went to sleep again. Then suddenly 
 Roland half rose, and said in a voice clear and firm: "But 
 Lord Wellington, though a great captain, was a fallible man, 
 sir, and the order-book was his own mortal handiwork. Get 
 me the Bible!" 
 
 Oh, Roland, Roland ! and I had feared that my mind was 
 wandering ! 
 
 So I went down and borrowed a Bible, in large characters, 
 and placed it on the bed before him, opening the shutters, and 
 letting in God's day upon God's word. 
 
 I had just done this, when there was a slight knock at the 
 door. I opened it, and Lord Castleton stood without. He 
 asked me, in a whisper, if he might see my uncle. I drew 
 him in gently, and pointed to the soldier of life, " learning 
 what was not impossible," from the unerring Order-Book. 
 
 Lord Castleton gazed with a changing countenance, and, 
 without disturbing my uncle, stole back. I followed him, and 
 gently closed the door. 
 
 " You must save his son," he said, in a faltering voice 
 '-you must; and tell me how to help you. That sight! no 
 sermon ever touched me more. Now come down and receive 
 Lady Ellinor's thanks. We are going. She wants me to tell 
 my own tale to my old friend, Mrs. Grundy : so I go with 
 them. Come ! " 
 
 On entering the sitting-room, Lady Ellinor came up and 
 fairly embraced me. I need not repeat her thanks, still less 
 the praises, which fell cold and hollow upon my ear. My gaze 
 rested on Fanny where she stood apart her eyes, heavy with 
 fresh tears, bent on the ground. And the sense of all her 
 charms the memory of the tender, exquisite kindness she had 
 shown to the stricken father; the generous pardon she had 
 extended to the criminal son ; the looks she had bent upon 
 me on that memorable night looks that had spoken such 
 trust in my presence the moment in which she had clung to 
 me for protection, and her breath been warm upon my cheek 
 all these rushed over me ; and I felt that the struggle of months 
 was undone ; that I had never loved her as I loved her then, 
 when I saw her but to lose her evermore ! And then there 
 came for the first, and, I now rejoice to think, for the only
 
 CAXTONS. 369 
 
 time, a bitter, ungrateful accusation against the cruelty of for- 
 tune and the disparities of life. What was it that set our two 
 hearts eternally apart, and made hope impossible ? Not nature, 
 but the fortune that gives a second nature to the world. Ah, 
 could I then think that it is in that second nature that the soul 
 is ordained to seek its trials, and that the elements of human 
 virtue find their harmonious place ! What I answered I know 
 not. Neither know I how long I stood there listening to 
 sounds which seemed to have no meaning, till there came 
 other sounds which indeed woke my sense, and made my 
 blood run cold to hear, the tramp of the horses, the grating 
 of the wheels, the voice at the door that said : " All was 
 ready." 
 
 Then Fanny lifted her eyes and they met mine ; and 
 then involuntarily and hastily she moved a few steps towards 
 me, and I clasped my right hand to my heart, as if to still 
 its beating, and remained still. Lord Castleton had watched 
 us both. I felt that watch was upon us, though I had til} 
 then shunned his looks : now, as I turned my eyes from Fanny's, 
 that look came full upon me soft, compassionate, benignant. 
 Suddenly, and with an unutterable expression of nobleness, 
 the Marquis turned to Lady Ellinor, and said : " Pardon me 
 for telling you an old story. A friend of mine a man of my 
 own years had the temerity to hope that he might one day 
 or other win the affections of a lady young enough to be his 
 daughter, and whom circumstances and his own heart led him to 
 prefer from all her sex. My friend had many rivals ; and you 
 will not wonder for you have seen the lady. Among them 
 was a young gentleman, who for months had been an inmate 
 of the same house (Hush, Lady Ellinor ! you will hear me 
 out ; the interest of my story is to come) who respected the 
 sanctity of the house he had entered, and had left it when he felt 
 he loved, for he was poor and the lady rich. Some time after, 
 this gentleman saved the lady from a great danger, and was 
 then on the eve of leaving England (Hush ! again hush !) 
 My friend was present when these two young persons met, 
 before the probable absence of many years, and so was the 
 mother of the lady to whose hand he still hoped one day to aspire. 
 He saw that his young rival wished to say, ' Farewell ! ' and 
 without a witness ; that farewell was all that his honor and his 
 reason could suffer him to say. My friend saw that the lady 
 felt the natural gratitude for a great service, and the natural 
 pity for a generous and unfortunate affection ; for so, Lady 
 Ellinor, he only interpreted the sob that reached his ear !
 
 3?0 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 What think you my friend did ? Your high mind at once con- 
 jectures. He said to himself : ' If I am ever to be blest with 
 the heart which, in spite of disparity of years, I yet hope to 
 win, let me show how entire is the trust that I place in its 
 integrity and innocence : let the romance of first youth be 
 closed the farewell of pure hearts be spoken unimbittered 
 by the idle jealousies of one mean suspicion.' With that 
 thought, which you, Lady Ellinor, will never stoop to blame, 
 he placed his hand on that of the noble mother, drew her gently 
 towards the door, and calmly confident of the result, left these 
 two young natures to the unwitnessed impulse of maiden honor 
 and manly duty." 
 
 All this was said and done with a grace and earnestness 
 that thrilled the listeners : word and action suited to each with 
 so inimitable a harmony, that the spell was not broken till the 
 voice ceased and the door closed. 
 
 That mournful bliss for which I had so pined was vouch- 
 safed : I was alone with her to whom, indeed, honor and 
 reason forbade me to say more than the last. farewell. 
 
 It was some time before we recovered before we felt that 
 we were alone. 
 
 Oh, ye moments, that I can now recall with so little sadness 
 in the mellow and sweet remembrance, rest ever holy and 
 undisclosed in the solemn recesses of the heart. Yes ! what- 
 ever confession of weakness was interchanged, we were not 
 unworthy of the trust that permitted the mournful consolation 
 of the parting. No trite love-tale with vows not to be ful- 
 filled, and hopes that the future must belie mocked the reali- 
 ties of the life that lay before us. Yet on the confines of the 
 dream we saw the day rising cold upon the world : and if 
 children as we well-nigh were we shrunk somewhat from the 
 light, we did not blaspheme the sun, and cry, " There is dark- 
 ness in the dawn ! " 
 
 All that we attempted was to comfort and strengthen each 
 other for that which must be : not seeking to conceal the grief 
 we felt, but promising, with simple faith, to struggle against 
 the grief. If vow were pledged between us that was the 
 vow each for the other's sake would strive to enjoy the bless- 
 ings Heaven left us still. Well may I say that we were chil- 
 dren ! I know not, in the broken words that passed between 
 us, in the sorrowful hearts which those words revealed I 
 know not if there were that which they who own, in human 
 passion, but the storm and the whirlwind, would call the love 
 of maturer years the love that gives fire to the song, and.
 
 THE CAXTONS. ftl 
 
 tragedy to the stage ; but I know that there was neither a 
 word nor a thought which made the sorrow of the children a 
 rebellion to the heavenly Father. 
 
 And again the door unclosed, and Fanny walked with a firm 
 step to her mother's side, and, pausing there, extended her 
 hand to me, and said, as I bent over it, " Heaven WILL be 
 with you ! " 
 
 A word from Lady Ellinor ; a frank smile from him the 
 rival ; one last, last glance from the soft eyes of Fanny, and 
 then Solitude rushed upon me rushed, as something visible, 
 palpable, overpowering. I felt it in the glare of the sunbeam, 
 I heard it in the breath of the air ! like a ghost it rose there 
 where she had filled the space with her presence but a moment 
 before. A something seemed gone from the universe forever ; 
 a change like that of death passed through my being ; and 
 when I woke to feel that my being lived again, I knew that it 
 was my youth and its poet-land that were no more, and that I 
 had passed, with an unconscious step, which never could re- 
 trace its way, into the hard world of laborious man ! 
 
 PART SIXTEENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " PLEASE, sir, be this note for you ? " asked the waiter. 
 
 " For me yes ; it is my name." 
 
 I did not recognize the handwriting, and yet the note was 
 from one whose writing I had often seen. But formerly the 
 writing was cramped, stiff, perpendicular (a feigned hand, 
 though I guessed not it was feigned) ; now it was hasty, 
 irregular, impatient scarce a letter formed, scarce a word 
 that seemed finished and yet strangely legible withal, as the 
 handwriting of a bold man almost always is. I opened the 
 note listlessly and read : 
 
 " I^have watched for you all the morning, I saw her go. 
 Well*! I did not throw myself under the hoofs of the horses. 
 I write this in a public-house, not far. Will you follow the 
 bearer, and see once again the outcast whoru all the rest of 
 the world will shun ? " 
 
 Though I did not recognize the hand, there could be no 
 doubt who was the writer.
 
 372 THE CAXTON&. 
 
 " The boy wants to know if there's an answer," said the 
 waiter. 
 
 I nodded, took up my hat, and left the room. A ragged 
 boy was standing in the yard, and scarcely six words passed 
 between us, before I was following him through a narrow lane 
 that faced the inn, and terminated in a turnstile. Here the 
 boy paused, and making me a sign to go on, went back his 
 way whistling. I passed the turnstile, and found myself in a 
 green field, with a row of stunted willows hanging over a 
 narrow rill. I looked round, and saw Vivian (as I intend still 
 to call him) half kneeling, and seemingly intent upon some 
 object in the grass. 
 
 My eye followed his mechanically. A young unfledged 
 bird that had left the nest too soon, stood, all still and alone, 
 on the bare, short sward its beak open as for food, its gaze 
 fixed on us with a wistful stare. Methought there was some- 
 thing in the forlorn bird that softened me more to the for- 
 lorner youth, of whom it seemed a type. 
 
 " Now," said Vivian, speaking half to himself, half to me, 
 " did the bird fall from the nest, or leave the nest at its own 
 wild whim ? The parent does not protect it. Mind, I say 
 not that it is the parent's fault perhaps the fault is all with 
 the wanderer. But look you, though the parent is not here, 
 the foe is ! yonder, see ! " 
 
 And the young man pointed to a large brindled cat, that, 
 kept back from its prey by our unwelcome neighborhood, still 
 remained watchful, a few paces off, stirring its tail gently 
 backwards and forwards, and with that stealthy look in its 
 round eyes, dulled by the sun half fierce, half frightened 
 which belongs to its tribe, when man comes between the 
 devourerand the victim. 
 
 " I do see," said I ; "but a passing footstep has saved the 
 bird." 
 
 " Stop ! " said Vivian, laying my hand on his own, and with 
 his old bitter smile on his lips " Stop ! Do you think it mercy 
 to save the bird ? What from ? And what for ? From a 
 natural enemy from a short pang, and a quick death ? 
 Fie ! is not that better than slow starvation ? Or, if you 
 take more heed of it, than the prison-bars of a cage ? You 
 cannot restore the nest, you cannot recall the parent ! Be 
 wiser in your mercy : leave the bird to its gentlest fate ! " 
 
 I looked hard on Vivian ; the lip had lost the bitter smile. 
 He rose and turned away. I sought to take up the poor bird, 
 but it did not know its friends, and ran from me, chirping
 
 THE CAXTONS. 373 
 
 ptteously ran towards the very jaws of the grim enemy. I 
 was only just in time to scare away the beast, which sprang up 
 a tree, and glared down through the hanging boughs. Then 
 I followed the bird, and, as I followed, I heard, not knowing 
 at first whence the sound came, a short, quick, tremulous note. 
 Was it near? Was it far? From the earth? In the sky? 
 Poor parent-bird ! like parent-love, it seemed now far and 
 now near ; now on earth, now in sky ! 
 
 And at last, quick and sudden, as if born of the space, lo ! 
 the little wings hovered over me ! 
 
 The young bird halted, and I also. 
 
 " Come," said I, " ye have found each other at last ; settle 
 it between you ! " 
 
 I went back to the outcast. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. How came you to know we had stayed in the 
 town ? 
 
 VIVIAN. Do you think I could remain where you left me ? 
 I wandered out wandered hither. Passing at dawn through 
 yon streets, I saw the ostlers loitering by the gates of the 
 yard, overheard them talk, and so knew you were all at the 
 inn all ! (He sighed heavily.) 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Your poor father is very ill ! O cousin, 
 how could you fling from you so much love ! 
 
 VIVIAN. Love ! his ! my father's ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Do you really not believe, then, that your 
 father loved you ? 
 
 VIVIAN. If I had believed it, I had never left him ! All 
 the gold of the Indies had never bribed me to leave my mother ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. This is indeed a strange misconception of 
 yours. If we can remove it, all may be well yet. Need there 
 now be any secrets between us? (persuasively.) Sit down, 
 and tell me all, cousin. 
 
 After some hesitation, Vivian complied ; and by the clear- 
 ing of his brow, and the very tone of his voice, I felt sure that 
 he was no longer seeking to disguise the truth. But, as I 
 afterwards learned the father's tale as well as now the son's, 
 so, instead of repeating Vivian's words, which not by design, 
 but by the twist of a mind habitually wrong distorted the 
 facts, I will state what appears to me the real case, as between 
 the parties so unhappily opposed. Reader, pardon me if the 
 recital be tedious. And if thou thinkest that I bear not hard
 
 374 THE CAXTOKS. 
 
 enough on the erring hero of the story, remember that he who 
 recites judges as Austin's son must judge of Roland's. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 VIVIAN. 
 AT THE ENTRANCE OF LIFE SITS THE MOTHER. 
 
 IT was during the war in Spain that a severe wound, and 
 the fever which ensued, detained Roland at the house of a 
 Spanish widow. His hostess had once been rich ; but her 
 fortune had been ruined in the general calamities of the coun- 
 *ry. She had an only daughter, who assisted to nurse and 
 tend the wounded Englishman; and when the time approached 
 for Roland's departure, the frank grief of the young Ramouna 
 betrayed the impression that the guest had made upon her 
 affections. Much of gratitude, and something, it might be, of 
 an exquisite sense of honor, aided, in Roland's breast, the 
 charm naturally produced by the beauty of his young nurse, 
 and the knightly compassion he felt for her ruined fortunes 
 and desolate condition. 
 
 In one of those hasty impulses common to a generous 
 nature and which too often fatally vindicate the rank of Pru- 
 dence amidst the tutelary Powers of Life Roland committed 
 the error of marriage with a girl of whose connections he knew 
 nothing, and of whose nature little more than its warm, sponta- 
 neous susceptibility. In a few days subsequent to these rash 
 nuptials, Roland rejoined the march of the army ; nor was he 
 able to return to Spain till after the crowning victory of 
 Waterloo. 
 
 Maimed by the loss of a limb, and with the scars of many a 
 noble wound still fresh, Roland then hastened to a home, the 
 dreams of which had soothed the bed of pain, and now 
 replaced the earlier visions of renown. During his absence a 
 son had been born to him a son whom he might rear to take 
 the place he had left in his country's service ; to renew, in 
 some future fields, a career that had failed the romance of his 
 own antique and chivalrous ambition. As soon as that news 
 had reached him, his care had been to provide an English 
 nurse for the infant so that, with the first sounds of the 
 mother's endearments, the child might yet hear a voice from 
 the father's land. A female relation of Bolt's had settled in 
 Spain, and was induced to undertake this duty. Natural as 
 this appointment was to a man so devotedly English, it dis-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 375 
 
 pleased his wild and passionate Ramouna. She had that 
 mother's jealousy, strongest in minds uneducated ; she had 
 also that peculiar pride which belongs to her country-people, 
 of every rank and condition ; the jealousy and the pride were 
 both wounded by the sight of the English nurse at the child's 
 cradle. 
 
 That Roland, on regaining his Spanish hearth, should be 
 disappointed in his expectations of the happiness awaiting him 
 there, was the inevitable condition of such a marriage ; since, 
 not the less for his military bluntness, Roland had that refine- 
 ment of feeling, perhaps over-fastidious, which belongs to all 
 natures essentially poetic : and as the first illusions of love 
 died away, there could have been little indeed congenial to his 
 stately temper in one divided from him by an utter absence of 
 education, and by the strong, but nameless, distinctions of 
 national views and manners. The disappointment, probably, 
 however, went deeper than that which usually attends an ill- 
 assorted union ; for, instead of bringing his wife to his old 
 Tower (an expatriation which she would doubtless have resisted 
 to the utmost), he accepted, maimed as he was, not very long 
 after his return to Spain, the offer of a military post under 
 Ferdinand. The Cavalier doctrines and intense loyalty of 
 Roland attached him, without reflection, to the service of a 
 throne which the English arms had contributed to establish ; 
 while the extreme unpopularity of the Constitutional Party in 
 Spain, and the stigma of irreligion fixed to it by the priests, 
 aided to foster Roland's belief that he was supporting a beloved 
 king against the professors of those revolutionary and Jacobini- 
 cal doctrines, which to him were the very atheism of politics. 
 The experience of a few years in the service of a bigot so 
 contemptible as Ferdinand, whose highest object of patriotism 
 was the restoration of the Inquisition, added another disappoint- 
 ment to those which had already embittered the life of a man 
 who had seen in the grand hero of Cervantes no follies to 
 satirize, but high virtues to imitate. Poor Quixote himself 
 he came mournfully back to his La Mancha, with no other 
 reward for his knight-errantry than a decoration which he dis- 
 dained to place beside his simple Waterloo medal, and a grade 
 for which he would have blushed to resign his more modest, 
 but more honorable, English dignity. 
 
 But, still weaving hopes, the sanguine man returned to his 
 Penates. His child now had grown from infancy into boy- 
 hood the child would pass naturally into his care. Delight- 
 ful occupation ! At the thought, home smiled again.
 
 376 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Now, behold the most pernicious circumstance in this ill- 
 omened connection. 
 
 The father of Ramouna had been one of that strange and 
 mysterious race which presents in Spain so many features 
 distinct from the characteristics of its kindred tribes in more 
 civilized lands. The Gitano, or gypsy of Spain, is not the 
 mere vagrant we see on our commons and roadsides. Retain- 
 ing, indeed, much of his lawless principles and predatory 
 inclinations, he lives often in towns, exercises various callings, 
 and not unfrequently becomes rich. A wealthy Gitano had 
 married a Spanish woman : * Roland's wife had been the 
 offspring of this marriage. The Gitano had died while 
 Ramouna was yet extremely young, and her childhood had 
 been free from the influences of her paternal kindred. But, 
 though her mother, retaining her own religion, had brought 
 up Ramouna in the same faith, pure from the godless creed of 
 the Gitano, and, at her husband's death, had separated herself 
 wholly from his tribe, still she had lost caste with her own kin 
 and people. And while struggling to regain it, the fortune, 
 which made her sole chance of success in that attempt, was 
 swept away, so that she had remained apart and solitary, and 
 could bring no friends to cheer the solitude of Ramouna 
 during Roland's absence. But, while my uncle was still in 
 the service of Ferdinand, the widow died ; and then the only 
 relatives who came round Ramouna were her father's kindred. 
 They had not ventured to claim affinity while her mother 
 lived ; and they did so now, by attentions and caresses to her 
 son. This opened to them at once Ramouna's heart and 
 doors. Meanwhile the English nurse, who, in spite of all that 
 could render her abode odious to her, had, from strong love 
 to her charge, stoutly maintained her post, died, a few weeks 
 after Ramouna's mother, and no healthful influence remained 
 to counteract those baneful ones to which the heir of the 
 honest old Caxtons was subject. But Roland returned home 
 in a humor to be pleased with all things. Joyously he clasped 
 his wife to his breast, and thought, with self-reproach, that he 
 had foreborne too little, and exacted too much he would be 
 wiser now. Delightedly he acknowledged the beauty, the 
 intelligence, and manly bearing of the boy, who played with 
 his sword-knot, and ran off with his pistols as a prize. 
 
 The news of the Englishman's arrival at first kept the law- 
 less kinsfolk from the house ; but they were fond of the boy, 
 
 * A Spaniard very rarely indeed marries a Ghana, or female gypsy. But occasionally 
 (observes Mr Borrow) a wealthy Gitano marries a Spanish female.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 377 
 
 and the boy of them, and interviews between him and these 
 wild comrades, if stolen, were not less frequent. Gradually 
 Roland's eyes became opened. As, in habitual intercourse, 
 the boy abandoned the reserve which awe and cunning at first 
 imposed, Roland was inexpressibly shocked at the bold prin- 
 ciples his son affected, and at his utter incapacity even to 
 comprehend that plain honesty and that frank honor which, to 
 the English soldier, seemed ideas innate and heaven-planted. 
 Soon afterwards, Roland found that a system of plunder was 
 carried on in his household, and tracked it to the connivance 
 of the wife and the agency of his son, for the benefit of lazy 
 bravos and dissolute vagrants. A more patient man than 
 Roland might well have been exasperated, a more wary man 
 confounded, by this discovery. He took the natural step per- 
 haps insisting on it too summarily perhaps not allowing 
 enough for the uncultured mind and lively passions of his 
 wife he ordered her instantly to prepare to accompany him 
 from the place, and to abandon all communication with her 
 kindred. 
 
 A vehement refusal ensued ; but Roland was not a man to 
 give up such a point, and at length a false submission, and a 
 feigned repentance, soothed his resentment and obtained his 
 pardon. They moved several miles from the place ; but 
 where they moved, there, some at least, and those the worst, of 
 the baleful brood, stealthily followed. Whatever Ramouna's 
 earlier love for Roland had been, it had evidently long ceased, 
 in the thorough want of sympathy between them, and in that 
 absence which, if it renews a strong affection, destroys an 
 affection already weakened. But the mother and son adored 
 each other with all the strength of their strong, wild natures. 
 Even under ordinary circumstances, the father's influence over 
 a boy yet in childhood is exerted in vain, if the mother lend 
 herself to baffle it. And in this miserable position, what 
 chance had the blunt, stern, honest Roland (separated from 
 his son during the most ductile years of infancy) against the 
 ascendency of a mother who humored all the faults, and grati- 
 fied all the wishes, of her darling ? 
 
 In his despair, Roland let fall the threat that, if thus 
 thwarted, it would become his duty to withdraw his son from 
 the mother. This threat instantly hardened both hearts against 
 him. The wife represented Roland to the boy as a tyrant, as 
 an enemy ; as one who had destroyed all the happiness they 
 had before enjoyed in each other ; as one whose severity 
 showed that he hated his own child ; and the boy believed her.
 
 378 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 In his own house a firm union was formed against Roland, and 
 protected by the cunning which is the force of the weak 
 against the strong. 
 
 In spite of all, Roland could never forget the tenderness 
 with which the young nurse had watched over the wounded 
 man, nor the love genuine for the hour, though not drawn 
 from the feelings which withstand the wear and tear of life 
 that lips so beautiful had pledged him in the bygone days. 
 These thoughts must have come perpetually between his 
 feelings and his judgment, to embitter still more his position, 
 to harass still more his heart. And if, by the strength of that 
 sense of duty which made the force of his character, he could 
 have strung himself to the fulfilment of the threat, humanity, 
 at all events, compelled him to delay it his wife promised to 
 be again a mother. Blanche was born. How could he take 
 the infant from the mother's breast, or abandon the daughter 
 to the fatal influences from which only, by so violent an effort, 
 he could free the son ? 
 
 No wonder, poor Roland, that those deep furrows contracted 
 thy bold front, and thy hair grew gray before its time ! 
 
 Fortunately, perhaps, for all parties, Roland's wife died 
 while Blanche was still an infant. She was taken ill of a fever : 
 she died delirious, clasping her boy to her breast, and praying 
 the saints to protect him from his cruel father. How often 
 that deathbed haunted the son, and justified his belief that 
 there was no parent's love in the heart which was now his sole 
 shelter from the world, and the " pelting of its pitiless rain." 
 Again I say, poor, Roland! for I know that, in that harsh, 
 unloving disrupture of such solemn ties, thy large, generous 
 heart forgot its wrongs ; again didst thou see tender eyes 
 bending over the wounded stranger again hear low murmurs 
 breathe the warm weakness which the women of the south 
 deem it no shame to own. And now did it all end in those 
 ravings of hate, and in that glazing gaze of terror ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PRECEPTOR. 
 
 ROLAND removed to France, and fixed his abode in the 
 environs of Paris. He placed Blanche at a convent in the 
 immediate neighborhood, going to see her daily, and gave him- 
 self up to the education of his son. The boy was apt to learn, 
 but to unlearn was here the arduous task ; and for that task it
 
 THE CAXTONS. 379 
 
 would have needed either the passionless experience, the ex- 
 quisite forbearance of a practised teacher, or the love, and 
 confidence, and yielding heart of a believing pupil. Roland 
 felt that he was not the man to be the teacher, and that his 
 son's heart remained obstinately closed to him. He looked 
 round, and found at the other side of Paris what seemed a 
 suitable preceptor a young Frenchman of some distinction in 
 letters, more especially in science, with all a Frenchman's elo- 
 quence of talk, full of high-sounding sentiments that pleased 
 the romantic enthusiasm of the Captain ; so Roland, with san- 
 guine hopes, confided his son to this man's care. The boy's 
 natural quickness mastered readily all that pleased his taste ; 
 he learned to speak and write French with rare felicity and 
 precision. His tenacious memory, and those flexile organs in 
 which the talent for languages is placed, served, with the help 
 of an English master, to revive his earlier knowledge of his 
 father's tongue, and to enable him to speak it with fluent cor- 
 rectness though there was always in his accent something 
 which had struck me as strange ; but not suspecting it to be 
 foreign, I had thought it a theatrical affectation. He did not 
 go far into science little farther, perhaps, than a smattering 
 of French mathematics but he acquired a remarkable facility 
 and promptitude in calculation. He devoured eagerly the 
 light reading thrown in his way, and picked up thence that 
 kind of knowledge which novels and plays afford, for good or 
 evil, according as the novel or the play elevates the under- 
 standing and ennobles the passions, or merely corrupts the 
 fancy, and lowers the standard of human nature. But of all 
 that Roland desired him to be taught, the son remained as 
 ignorant as before. Among the other misfortunes of this 
 ominous marriage, Roland's wife had possessed all the super- 
 stitions of a Roman Catholic Spaniard, and with these the boy 
 had unconsciously intermingled doctrines far more dreary, im- 
 bibed from the dark paganism of the Gitanos. 
 
 Roland had sought a Protestant for his son's tutor. The 
 preceptor was nominally a Protestant a biting derider of all 
 superstitions indeed ! He was such a Protestant as some 
 defender of Voltaire's religion says the Great Wit would have 
 been had he lived in a Protestant country. The Frenchman 
 laughed the boy out of his superstitions, to leave behind 
 them the sneering skepticism of the Encyclopedic, without those 
 redeeming ethics on which all sects of philosophy are agreed, 
 but which, unhappily, it requires a philosopher to comprehend. 
 
 This preceptor was, doubtless, not aware of the mischief he
 
 3&0 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 was doing ; and for the rest, he taught his pupil after his own 
 system a mild and plausible one, very much like the system 
 we at home are recommended to adopt : " Teach the under- 
 standing, all else will follow "; " Learn to read something, and 
 it will all come right "; " Follow the bias of the pupil's mind ; 
 thus you develop genius, not thwart it." Mind, Understand- 
 ing, Genius fine things ! But, to educate the whole man, 
 you must educate something more than these. Not for want 
 of mind, understanding, genius, have Borgias and Neros left 
 their names as monuments of horror to mankind. Where, 
 in all this teaching, was one lesson to warm the heart and 
 guide the soul ? 
 
 Oh, mother mine ! that the boy had stood by thy knee, and 
 heard from thy lips, why life was given us, in what life shall 
 end, and how heaven stands open to us night and day ! Oh, 
 father mine ! that thou hadst been his preceptor, not in book- 
 learning, but the heart's simple wisdom ! Oh that he had 
 learned from thee, in parables closed with practice, the happi- 
 ness of self-sacrifice, and how " good deeds should repair the 
 bad " ! 
 
 It was the misfortune of this boy, with his daring and his 
 beauty, that there was in his exterior and his manner that 
 which attracted indulgent interest, and a sort of compassionate 
 admiration. The Frenchman liked him believed his story 
 thought him ill-treated by that hard-visaged English soldier. 
 All English people were so disagreeable, particularly English 
 soldiers ; and the Captain once mortally offended the French- 
 man by calling Vilainton un grand homme, and denying, with 
 brutal indignation, that the English had poisoned Napoleon ! 
 So, instead of teaching the son to love and revere his father, 
 the Frenchman shrugged his shoulders when the boy broke 
 into some unfilial complaint, and at most said, " Mais, cher 
 enfant, ton pere est Anglais c'esttout dire." Meanwhile, as the 
 child sprang rapidly into precocious youth, he was permitted 
 a liberty in his hours of leisure, of which he availed himself 
 with all the zest of his earlier habits and adventurous temper. 
 He formed acquaintances among the loose young haunters of 
 cafes and spendthrifts of that capital the wits ! He became 
 an excellent swordsman and pistol-shot adroit in all games 
 in which skill helps fortune. He learned betimes to furnish 
 himself with money, by the cards and the billiard-balls. 
 
 But, delighted with the easy home he had obtained, he took 
 care to school his features and smooth his manner in his 
 father's visits : to make the most of what he had learned of
 
 THE CAXTONS. 381 
 
 less ignoble knowledge, and, with his characteristic imitative- 
 ness, to cite the finest sentiments he had found in his plays 
 and novels. What father is not credulous ? Roland believed, 
 and wept tears of joy. And now he thought the time was 
 come to take back the boy to return with a worthy heir to the 
 old Tower. He thanked and blessed the tutor ; he took the 
 son. But, under pretence that he had yet some things to 
 master, whether in book knowledge or manly accomplish- 
 ments, the youth begged his father, at all events, not yet to re- 
 turn to England to let him attend his tutor daily for some 
 months. Roland consented, moved from his old quarters, and 
 took a lodging for both in the same suburb as that in which 
 the teacher resided. But soon, when they were under one 
 roof, the boy's habitual tastes, and his repugnance to all pa- 
 ternal authority, were betrayed. To do my unhappy cousin 
 justice (such as that justice is), though he had the cunning for 
 a short disguise, he had not the hypocrisy to maintain system- 
 atic deceit. He could play a part for a while, from an exult- 
 ing joy in his own address ; but he could not wear a mask 
 with the patience of cold-blooded dissimulation. Why enter 
 into painful details, so easily divined by the intelligent 
 reader ? The faults of the son were precisely those to which 
 Roland would be least indulgent. To the ordinary scrapes of 
 high-spirited boyhood, no father, I am sure, would have been 
 more lenient ; but to anything that seemed low, petty that 
 grated on him as a gentleman and soldier there, not for 
 worlds would I have braved the darkness of his frown, and the 
 woe that spoke like scorn in his voice. And when, after all 
 warning and prohibition were in vain, Roland found his son, 
 in the middle of the night, in a resort of gamblers and 
 sharpers, carrying all before him with his cue, in the full flush 
 of triumph, and a great heap of five-franc pieces before him 
 you may conceive with what wrath the proud, hasty, passion- 
 ate man drove out, cane in hand, the obscene associates, 
 flinging after them the son's ill-gotten gains ; and with what 
 resentful humiliation the son was compelled to follow the 
 father home. Then Roland took the boy to England, but not 
 to the old Tower ; that hearth of his ancestors was still too 
 sacred for the footsteps of the vagrant heir !
 
 382 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE HEARTH WITHOUT TRUST, AND THE WORLD WITHOUT 
 
 A GUIDE. 
 
 AND then, vainly grasping at every argument his blunt 
 sense could suggest then talked Roland much and grandly of 
 the duties men owed even if they threw off all love to their 
 father still to their father's name ; and then his pride, 
 always so lively, grew irritable and harsh, and seemed, no 
 doubt, to the perverted ears of the son, unlovely and unloving. 
 And that pride, without serving one purpose of good, did yet 
 more mischief ; for the youth caught the disease, but in a 
 wrong way. And he said to himself : 
 
 " Ho, then my father is a great man, with all these ancestors 
 and big words ! And he has lands and a castle and yet how 
 miserably we live, and how he stints me ! But, if he has cause 
 for pride in all these dead men, why, so have I. And are 
 these lodgings, these appurtenances, fit for the ' gentleman ' 
 he says I am ? " 
 
 Even in England, the gypsy blood broke out as before, and 
 the youth found vagrant associates, Heaven knows how or 
 where ; and strange-looking forms, gaudily shabby, and dis- 
 reputably smart, were seen lurking in the corner of the street, 
 or peering in at the window, slinking off if they saw Roland 
 and Roland could not stoop to be a spy. And the son's heart 
 grew harder and harder against his father, and his father's 
 face now never smiled on him. Then bills came in, and duns 
 knocked at the door. Bills and duns to a man who shrunk 
 from the thought of a debt as an ermine from a spot on its 
 fur ! And the son's short answer to remonstrance was : " Am 
 I not a gentleman ? These are the things gentlemen require." 
 Then perhaps Roland remembered the experiment of his 
 French friend, and left his bureau unlocked, and said : " Ruin 
 me if you will, but no debts. There is money in those 
 drawers they are unlocked." That trust would forever have 
 cured of extravagance a youth with a high and delicate sense 
 of honor : the pupil of the Gitanos did not understand the 
 trust ; he thought it conveyed a natural, though ungracious, 
 permission to take out what he wanted and he took ! To 
 Roland this seemed a theft, and a theft of the coarsest kind : 
 but when he so said, the son started indignant, and saw in that 
 which had been so touching an appeal to his honor, but a trap 
 to decoy him into disgrace. In short, neither could under-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 383 
 
 stand the other. Roland forbade his son to stir from the house ; 
 and the young man the same night let himself out, and stole forth 
 into the wide world, to enjoy or defy it in his own wild way. 
 
 It would be tedious to follow him through his various ad- 
 ventures and experiments on fortune (even if I knew them all, 
 which I do not). And now, putting altogether aside his right 
 name, which he had voluntarily abandoned, and not embar- 
 rassing the reader with the earlier aliases assumed, I shall give 
 to my unfortunate kinsman the name by which I first knew 
 him, and continue to do so until Heaven grant the time may 
 come ! having first redeemed, he may reclaim, his own. It 
 was in joining a set of strolling players that Vivian became 
 acquainted with Peacock ; and that worthy, who had many 
 strings to his bow, soon grew aware of Vivian's extraordinary 
 skill with the cue, and saw therein a better mode of making 
 their joint fortunes than the boards of an itinerant Thespis 
 furnished to either. Vivian listened to him, and it was while 
 their intimacy was most fresh that I met them on the highroad. 
 That chance meeting produced (if I may be allowed to believe 
 his assurance) a strong, and, for the moment, a salutary effect 
 upon Vivian. The comparative innocence and freshness of a 
 boy's mind were new to him ; the elastic, healthful spirits with 
 which those gifts were accompanied startled him, by the con- 
 trast to his own forced gayety and secret gloom. And this 
 boy was his own cousin ! 
 
 Coming afterwards to London, he adventured inquiry at the 
 hotel in the Strand at which I had given my address ; learned 
 where we were ; and, passing one night into the street, saw my 
 uncle at the window to recognize and to fly from him. Hav- 
 ing then some money at his disposal, he broke off abruptly 
 from the set in which he had been thrown. He had resolved 
 to return to France ; he would try for a more respectable 
 mode of existence. He had not found happiness in that 
 liberty he had won, nor room for the ambition that began to 
 gnaw him, in those pursuits from which his father had vainly 
 warned him. His most reputable friend was his old tutor ; 
 he would go to him. He went ; but the tutor was now married, 
 and was himself a father, and that made a wonderful alteration in 
 his practical ethics. It was no longer moral to aid the son in 
 rebellion to his father. Vivian evinced his usual sarcastic 
 haughtiness at the reception he met, and was requested civilly 
 to leave the house. Then again he flung himself on his wits 
 at Paris. But there were plenty of wits there sharper than his 
 own. He got into some quarrel with the police ; not, indeed,
 
 384 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 for any dishonest practices of his own, but from an unwary 
 acquaintance with others less scrupulous, and deemed it pru- 
 dent to quit France. Thus had I met him again, forlorn and 
 ragged, in the streets of London. 
 
 Meanwhile Roland, after the first vain search, had yielded to 
 the indignation and disgust that had long rankled within him. 
 His son had thrown off his authority, because it preserved him 
 from dishonor. His ideas of discipline were stern, and pa- 
 tience had been well-nigh crushed out of his heart. He 
 thought he could bear to resign his son to his fate ; to disown 
 him, and to say, " I have no more a son." It was in this 
 mood that he had first visited our house. But when, on that 
 memorable night in which he had narrated to his thrilling 
 listeners the dark tale of a fellow-sufferer's woe and crime 
 betraying in the tale, to my father's quick sympathy, his own 
 sorrow and passion it did not need much of his gentler 
 brother's subtle art to learn or guess the whole, nor much of 
 Austin's mild persuasion to convince Roland that he had not 
 yet exhausted all efforts to track the wanderer and reclaim the 
 erring child. Then he had gone to London ; then he had 
 sought every spot which the outcast would probably haunt ; 
 then had he saved and pinched from his own necessities to have 
 wherewithal to enter theatres and gaming-houses, and fee the 
 agencies of police ; then had he seen the form for which he had 
 watched and pined, in the street below his window, and cried, in 
 a joyous delusion : " He repents ! " One day a letter reached 
 my uncle, through his banker's from the French tutor (who 
 knew of no other means of tracing Roland but through the 
 house by which his salary had been paid), informing him of his 
 son's visit. Roland started instantly for Paris. Arriving 
 there, he could only learn of his son through the police, and 
 from them only learn that he had been seen in the company of 
 accomplished swindlers, who were already in the hands of 
 justice ; but that the youth himself, whom there was nothing 
 to criminate, had been suffered to quit Paris, and had taken, 
 it was supposed, the road to England. Then, at last, the poor 
 Captain's stout heart gave way. His son the companion of 
 swindlers ! could he be sure that he was not their accomplice ? 
 If not yet, how small the step between companionship and 
 participation ! He took the child left him still from the 
 convent, returned to England, and arrived there to be seized 
 with fever and delirium apparently on the same day (or a 
 day before that on which) the son had dropped, shelterless 
 and penniless, on the stones of London.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 385 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ATTEMPT TO BUILD A TEMPLE TO FORTUNE OUT OF 
 THE RUINS OF HOME. 
 
 " BUT," said Vivian, pursuing his tale, " but when you came 
 to my aid, not knowing me ; when you relieved me ; when 
 from your own lips, for the first time, I heard words that 
 praised me, and for qualities that implied I might yet be 
 ' worth much ' Ah ! (he added mournfully) I remember the 
 very words a new light broke upon me struggling and dim, 
 but light still. The ambition with which 1 had sought the 
 truckling Frenchman revived, and took worthier and more 
 definite form. I would lift myself above the mire, make a 
 name, rise in life ! " 
 
 Vivian's head drooped, but he raised it quickly, and laughed, 
 his low, mocking laugh. What follows of this tale may be told 
 succinctly. Retaining his bitter feelings towards his father, 
 he resolved to continue his incognito ; he gave himself a name 
 likely to mislead conjecture, if I conversed of him to my family, 
 since he knew that Roland was aware that a Colonel Vivian 
 had been afflicted by a runaway son and, indeed, the talk 
 upon that subject had first put the notion of flight into his 
 own head. He caught at the idea of becoming known to 
 Trevanion ; but he saw reasons to forbid his being indebted 
 to me for the introduction to forbid my knowing where he 
 was : sooner or later that knowledge could scarcely fail to end 
 in the discovery of his real name. Fortunately, as he deemed, 
 for the plans he began to meditate, we were all leaving Lon- 
 don he should have the stage to himself. And then boldly 
 he resolved upon what he regarded as the master-scheme of 
 life, viz., to obtain a small pecuniary independence, and to 
 emancipate himself formally and entirely from his father's 
 control. Aware of poor Roland's chivalrous reverence for his 
 name, firmly persuaded that Roland had no love for the son, 
 but only the dread that the son might disgrace him, he deter- 
 mined to avail himself of his father's prejudices in order to 
 effect his purpose. 
 
 He wrote a short letter to Roland (that letter which had 
 given the poor man so sanguine a joy that letter after reading 
 which he had said to Blanche, " Pray for me "), stating simply 
 that he wished to see his father ; and naming a tavern in the 
 City for the meeting. 
 
 The interview took place. And when Roland, love and for-
 
 3'36 THE CAXTON5. 
 
 giveness in his heart, but (who shall blame him ?) dignity on 
 his brow and rebuke in his eye, approached, ready at a word 
 to fling himself on the boy's breast, Vivian, seeing only the 
 outer signs, and interpreting them by his own sentiments, 
 recoiled, folded his arms on his bosom, and said coldly : 
 " Spare me reproach, sir it is unavailing. I seek you only to 
 propose that you shall save your name and resign your son." 
 
 Then, intent perhaps but to gain his object, the unhappy 
 youth declared his fixed determination never to live with his 
 father ; never to acquiesce in his authority ; resolutely to pur- 
 sue his own career, whatever that career might be, explaining 
 none of the circumstances that appeared most in his disfavor 
 rather, perhaps, thinking that, the worse his father judged of 
 him, the more chance he had to achieve his purpose. " All I 
 ask of you," he said, " is this : Give me the least you can 
 afford to preserve me from the temptation to rob, or the neces- 
 sity to starve ; and I, in my turn, promise never to molest you 
 in life, never to degrade you in my death ; whatever my mis- 
 deeds, they will never reflect on yourself, for you shall never 
 recognize the misdoer ! The name you prize so highly shall 
 be spared." Sickened and revolted, Roland attempted no 
 argument ; there was that in the son's cold manner which shut 
 out hope, and against which his pride rose indignant. A 
 meeker man might have remonstrated, implored, and wept 
 that was not in Roland's nature. He had but the choice of 
 three evils, to say to his son : " Fool, I command thee to follow 
 me ! " or say : " Wretch, since thou wouldst cast me off as a 
 stranger, as a stranger I say to thee Go, starve or rob as 
 thou wilt ! " or lastly, to bow his proud head, stunned by the 
 blow, and say : " Thou refusest me the obedience of the son, 
 thou demandest to be as the dead to me. I can control thee 
 not from vice, I can guide thee not to virtue. Thou wouldst 
 sell me the name I have inherited stainless, and have as stain- 
 less borne. Be it so ! Name thy price ! " 
 
 And something like this last was the father's choice. 
 
 He listened and was long silent ; and then he said slowly : 
 " Pause before you decide." 
 
 " I have paused long my decision is made ! This is the 
 last time we meet. I see before me now the way to fortune, 
 fairly, honorably ; you can aid me in it only in the way I have 
 said. Reject me now, and the option may never come again 
 to either ! " 
 
 And then Roland said to himself, " I have spared and saved 
 for this son ; what care I for aught else than enough to li
 
 THE CAXTONS. 387 
 
 without debt, creep into a corner, and await the grave / And 
 the more I can give, why, the better chance that he will abjure 
 the vile associate and the desperate course." And so, out of 
 his small income, Roland surrendered to the rebel child more 
 than the half. 
 
 Vivian was not aware of his father's fortune; he did not 
 suppose the sum of two hundred pounds a year was an 
 allowance so disproportioned to Roland's means : yet when 
 it was named, even he was struck by the generosity of one 
 to whom he himself had given the right to say : " I take 
 thee at thy word ; 'just enough not to starve' ! " 
 
 But then that hateful cynicism, which, caught from bad men 
 and evil books, he called " knowledge of the world," made him 
 think "it is not for me, it is only for his name"; and he said 
 aloud : " I accept these terms, sir ; here is the address of a 
 solicitor with whom yours can settle them. Farewell forever." 
 
 At those last words Roland started, and stretched out his 
 arms vaguely like a blind man. But Vivian had already 
 thrown open the window (the room was on the ground floor) 
 and sprang upon the sill. " Farewell," he repeated ; " tell the 
 world I am dead." 
 
 He leapt into the street, and the father drew in the out- 
 stretched arms, smote his heart, and said : " Well, then, my 
 task in the world of man is over ! I will back to the old ruin 
 the wreck t j the vvre :ks and the sight of tombs I have at least 
 rescued from dishonor shall comfort me for all ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE RESULTS PERVERTED AMBITION SELFISH PASSION THE 
 INTELLECT DISTORTED BY THE CROOKEDNESS OF THE 
 HEART. 
 
 VIVIAN'S schemes thus prospered. He had an income that 
 permitted him the outward appearance of a gentleman an 
 independence modest, indeed, but independence still. We 
 were all gone from London. One letter to me with the post- 
 mark of the town near which Colonel Vivian lived, sufficed to 
 comlirm my belief in his parentage, and in his return to his 
 friends. He then presented himself to Trevanion as the young 
 man whose pen I had employed in the member's service ; and 
 knowing that I had never mentioned his name to Trevanion 
 for, without Vivian's permission, I should not, considering his 
 apparent trust in me, have deemed myself authorized to do
 
 388 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 so he took that of Gower, which he selected, haphazard, 
 from an old Court Guide, as having the advantage in com- 
 mon with most names borne by the higher nobility of En- 
 gland of not being confined, as the ancient names of untitled 
 gentlemen usually are, to the members of a single family. 
 And when, with his wonted adaptability and suppleness, he 
 had contrived to lay aside, or smooth over, whatever in his 
 manners would be calculated to displease Trevanion, and had 
 succeeded in exciting the interest which that generous states- 
 man always conceived for ability, he owned, candidly, one 
 clay, in the presence of Lady Ellinor for his experience had 
 taught him the comparative ease with which the sympathy of 
 woman is enlisted in anything that appeals to the imagination, 
 or seems out of the ordinary beat of life that he had reasons 
 for concealing his connections for the present ; that he had 
 cause to believe I suspected what they were, and, from mis- 
 taken regard for his welfare, might acquaint his relations with 
 his whereabout. He therefore begged Trevanion, if the latter 
 had occasion to write to me, not to mention him. This promise 
 Trevanion gave, though reluctantly ; for the confidence volun- 
 teered to him seemed to exact the promise ; but as he detested 
 mystery of all kinds, the avowal might have been fatal to any 
 farther acquaintance ; and under auspices so doubtful, there 
 would have been no chance of his obtaining that intimacy in 
 Trevanion's house which he desired to establish, but for an 
 accident which at once opened that house to him almost as 
 a home. 
 
 Vivian had always treasured a lock of his mother's hair, cut 
 off on her deathbed ; and when he was at his French tutor's, 
 his first pocket-money had been devoted to the purchase of a 
 locket, on which he had caused to be inscribed his own name 
 and his mother's. Through all his wanderings he had worn 
 this relic : and in the direst pangs of want, no hunger had 
 been keen enough to induce him to part with it. Now, one 
 morning the ribbon that suspended the locket gave way, and 
 his eye resting on the names inscribed on the gold, he thought, 
 in his own vague sense of right, imperfect as it was, that his 
 compact with his father obliged him to have the names erased. 
 He took it to a jeweller in Piccadilly for that purpose, and 
 gave the requisite order, not taking notice of a lady in the 
 further part of the shop. The locket was still on the counter 
 after Vivian had left, when the lady coming forward observed 
 it, and saw the names on the surface. She had been struck 
 by the peculiar tone of the voice, which she had heard before ;
 
 THE CAXTONS. 389 
 
 and that very day Mr. Govver received a note from Lady Ellinor 
 Trevanion, requesting to see him. Much wondering, he went. 
 Presenting him with the locket, she said, smiling : " There is 
 only one gentleman in the world who calls himself De Caxton, 
 unless it be his son. Ah ! 1 see now why you wished to con- 
 ceal yourself from my friend Pisistratus. But how is this? 
 Can you have any difference with your father? Confide in 
 me, or it is my duty to write to him." 
 
 Even Vivian's powers of dissimulation abandoned him, 
 thus taken by surprise. He saw no alternative but to trust 
 Lady Ellinor with his secret, and implore her to respect it. 
 And then he spoke bitterly of his father's dislike to him, and 
 his own resolution to prove the injustice of that dislike by the 
 position he would himself establish in the world. At present, 
 his father believed him dead, and perhaps was not ill-pleased 
 to think so. He would not dispel that belief, till he could 
 redeem any boyish errors, and force his family to be proud to 
 acknowledge him. 
 
 Though Lady Ellinor was slow to believe that Roland 
 could dislike his son, she could yet readily belie /e that he 
 was harsh and choleric, with a soldier's high notions of disci- 
 pline : the young man's story moved her, his determination 
 pleased her own high spirit always with a touch of romance 
 in her, and always sympathizing with each desire of ambition, 
 she entered into Vivian's aspirations with an alacrity that sur- 
 prised himself. She was charmed with the idea of minister- 
 ing to the son's fortunes, and ultimately reconciling him to 
 the father, through her own agency ; it would atone for any 
 fault of which Roland could accuse herself in the old time. 
 
 She undertook to impart the secret to Trevanion, for she 
 would have no secrets from him, and to secure his acquies- 
 cence in its concealment from all others. 
 
 And here I must a little digress from the chronological 
 course of my explanatory narrative, to inform the reader that, 
 when Lady Ellinor had her interview with Roland, she had 
 been repelled by the sternness of his manner from divulging 
 Vivian's secret. But on her first attempt to sound or con- 
 ciliate him, she had begun with some eulogies on Trevanion's 
 new friend and assistant, Mr. Gower, and had awakened Ro-_ 
 land's suspicions of that person's identity with his son sus- 
 picions which had given him a terrible interest in our joint 
 deliverance of Miss Trevanion. But so heroically had the 
 poor soldier sought to resist his own fears, that on the way he 
 shrank to put to me the questions that might paralyze the
 
 390 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 energies which, whatever the answer, were then so much 
 needed. " For," said he to my father, " I felt the blood surg- 
 ing to my temples ; and if I had said to Pisistratus 'Describe 
 this man,' and by his description I had recognized my son, 
 and dreaded lest I might be too late to arrest him from so 
 treacherous a crime, my brain would have given way ; and 
 so I did not dare ! " 
 
 I return to the thread of my story. From the time that 
 Vivian confided in Lady Ellinor, the way was cleared to his 
 most ambitious hopes ; and though his acquisitions were not 
 sufficiently scholastic and various to permit Trevanion to 
 select him as a secretary, yet, short of sleeping at the house, 
 he was little less intimate there than I had been. 
 
 Among Vivian's schemes of advancement, that of winning 
 the hand and heart of the great heiress had not been one of 
 the least sanguine. This hope was annulled when, not long 
 after his intimacy at he* father's house, she became engaged 
 to young Lord Castleton. But he could not see Miss Trevan- 
 ion with impunity (alas ! who, with a heart yet free, couid be 
 insensible to attractions so winning ?) He permitted the love 
 such love as his wild, half-educated, half-savage nature acknowl- 
 edged to creep into his soul to master it ; but he felt no 
 hope, cherished no scheme while the young lord lived. With 
 the death of her betrothed, Fanny was free ; then he began to 
 hope not yet to scheme. Accidentally he encountered Pea- 
 cock ; partly from the levity that accompanied a false good 
 nature that was constitutional with him, partly from a vague 
 idea that the man might be useful, Vivian established his quon- 
 dom associate in the service of Trevanion. Peacock soon 
 gained the secret of Vivian's love for Fanny, and, dazzled by 
 the advantages that a marriage with Miss Trevanion would 
 confer on his patron, and might reflect on himself, and de- 
 lighted at an occasion to exercise his dramatic accomplish- 
 ments on the stage of real life, he soon practised the lesson 
 that the theatres had taught him, viz., to make a sub-intrigue 
 between maid and valet serve the schemes and insure the suc- 
 cess of the lover. If Vivian had some opportunities to imply 
 his admiration, Miss Trevanion gave him none to plead his 
 cause. But the softness of her nature, and that graceful kind- 
 ness which surrounded her like an atmosphere, emanating 
 unconsciously from a girl's harmless desire to please, tended 
 to deceive him. His own personal gifts were so rare, and, in 
 his wandering life, the effect they had produced had so 
 increased his reliance on them, that he thought he wanted but
 
 THE CAXTONS. 391 
 
 the fair opportunity to woo in order to win. In this state of 
 mental intoxication, Trevanion having provided for his Scotch 
 
 secretary, took him to Lord N 's. His hostess was one of 
 
 those middle-aged ladies of fashion, who like to patronize and 
 bring forward young men, accepting gratitude for condescen- 
 sion, as a homage to beauty. She was struck by Vivian's 
 exterior, and that " picturesque " in look and in manner which 
 belonged to him. Naturally garrulous and indiscreet, she was 
 unreserved to a pupil whom she conceived the whim to maka 
 " au fait to society." Thus she talked to him, among other 
 topics in fashion, of Miss Trevanion, and expressed her belief 
 that the present Lord Castleton had always admired her ; but 
 it was only on his accession to the marquisate that he had 
 made up his mind to marry, or, from his knowledge of Lady 
 Ellinor's ambition, thought that the Marquis of Castleton 
 might achieve the prize which would have been refused to Sir 
 Sedley Beaudesert. Then, to corroborate the predictions she 
 hazarded, she repeated, perhaps with exaggeration, some pas- 
 sages from Lord Castleton's replies to her own suggestions on 
 the subject. Vivian's alarm became fatally excited ; unregu- 
 lated passions easily obscured a reason so long perverted, and 
 a conscience so habitually dulled. There is an instinct in all 
 intense affection (whether it be corrupt or pure) that usually 
 makes its jealousy prophetic. Thus, from the first, out of all 
 the brilliant idlers round Fanny Trevanion, my jealousy had 
 pre-eminently fastened on Sir Sedley Beaudesert, though, to 
 all seeming, without a cause. From the same instinct, Vivian 
 had conceived the same vague jealousy a jealousy, in his 
 instance, coupled with a deep dislike to his supposed rival, 
 who had wounded his self-love. For the Marquis, though to 
 be haughty or ill-bred was impossible to the blandness of his 
 nature, had never shown to Vivian the genial courtesies he 
 had lavished upon me, and kept politely aloof from his 
 acquaintance ; while Vivian's personal vanity had been 
 wounded by that drawing-room effect which the proverbial 
 winner of all hearts produced without an effort an effect 
 that threw into the shade the youth and the beauty (more 
 striking but infinitely less prepossessing) of the adventurous 
 rival. Thus animosity to Lord Castleton conspired with Viv- 
 ian's passion for Fanny, to rouse all that was worst by nature 
 and by rearing, in this audacious and turbulent spirit. 
 
 His confidant, Peacock, suggested, from his stage expe- 
 rience, the outlines of a plot, to which Vivian's astuter intellect 
 instantly gave tangibility and coloring. Peacock had already
 
 39* THE CAXTONS. 
 
 found Miss Trevanion's waiting-woman ripe for any measure 
 that might secure himself as her husband, and a provision for 
 life as a reward. Two or three letters between them settled 
 the preliminary engagements. A friend of the ex-comedian's 
 had lately taken an inn on the north road, and might be relied 
 upon. At that inn it was settled that Vivian should meet Miss 
 Trevanion, whom Peacock, by the aid of the abigail, engaged 
 to lure there. The sole difficulty that then remained would, 
 to most men, have seemed the greatest, viz., the consent of 
 Miss Trevanion to a Scotch marriage. But Vivian hoped all 
 things from his own eloquence, art, and passion ; and by an 
 inconsistency, however strange, still not unnatural in the 
 twists of so crooked an intellect, he thought that, by insisting 
 on the intention of her parents to sacrifice her youth to the 
 very man of whose attractions he was most jealous by the 
 picture of disparity of years, by the caricature of his rival's 
 foibles and frivolities, by the commonplaces of " beauty bar- 
 tered for ambition," etc., he might enlist her fears of the 
 alternative on the side of the choice urged upon her. The 
 plan proceeded, the time came : Peacock pretended the 
 excuse of a sick relation to leave Trevanion ; and Vivian a 
 day before, on pretence of visiting the picturesque scenes in 
 the neighborhood, obtained leave of absence. Thus the plot 
 went on to its catastrophe. 
 
 " And I need not ask," said I, trying in vain to conceal my 
 indignation, " how Miss Trevanion received your monstrous 
 proposition ! " 
 
 Vivian's pale cheek grew paler, but he made no reply. 
 
 " And if we had not arrived, what would you have 
 done ? Oh, dare you look into the gulf of infamy you have 
 escaped ! 
 
 " I cannot, and I will not bear this ! " exclaimed Vivian, 
 starting up. " I have laid my heart bare before you, and it is 
 ungenerous and unmanly thus to press upon its wounds. You 
 can moralize, you can speak coldly but I I loved ! " 
 
 " And do you think," I burst forth, " do you think that I 
 did not love too ! love longer than you have done ; better 
 than you have done ; gone through sharper struggles, darker 
 days, more sleepless nights, than you and yet " 
 
 Vivian caught hold of me. 
 
 " Hush ! " he cried ; " Is this indeed true ! I thought you 
 might have had some faint and fleeting fancy for Miss Tre- 
 vanion, but that you curbed and conquered it at once. Oh 
 no ! it was impossible to have loved really and to have surren-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 393 
 
 dered all chance as you did ! have left the house, have fled 
 from her presence ! No no ! that was not love ! " 
 
 " It was love ! and I pray Heaven to grant that, one day, 
 you may know how little your affection sprang from those 
 feelings which make true love sublime as honor, and meek as 
 is religion ! Oh ! cousin, cousin with those rare gifts, what 
 you might have been ! What, if you will pass through repen- 
 tance, and cling to atonement what, I dare hope, you may 
 yet be ! Talk not now of your love ; I talk not of mine ! 
 Love is a thing gone from the lives of both. Go back to 
 earlier thoughts, to heavier wrongs ! your father ! that 
 noble heart which you have so wantonly lacerated, which you 
 have so little comprehended ! " 
 
 Then with all the warmth of emotion I hurried on ; showed 
 him thetrue nature of honor and of Roland (for the names were 
 one !) ; showed him the watch, the hope, the manly anguish I 
 had witnessed, and wept I, not his son to see ; showed him 
 the poverty and privation to which the father, even at the last, 
 had condemned himself, so that the son may have no excuse 
 for the sins that Want whispers to the weak. This, and much 
 more, and I suppose with the pathos that belongs to all earnest- 
 ness, I enforced, sentence after sentence yielding to no inter- 
 ruption, overmastering all dissent ! Driving in the truth, nail 
 after nail, as it were, into the obdurate heart, that I constrained 
 and grappled to. And at last, the dark, bitter, cynical nature 
 gave way, and the young man fell sobbing at my feet, and 
 cried aloud : " Spare me, spare me ! I see it all now ! Wretch 
 that I have been ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON leaving Vivian I did not presume to promise him 
 Roland's immediate pardon. I did not urge him to attempt 
 to see his father. I felt the time was not come for either 
 pardon or interview. I contented myself with the victory I 
 had already gained. I judged it right that thought, solitude, 
 and suffering should imprint more deeply the lesson, and pre- 
 pare the way to the steadfast resolution of reform. I left him 
 seated by the stream, and with the promise to inform him at 
 the small hostelry, where he took up his lodging, how Roland 
 struggled through his illness. 
 
 On returning to the inn, I was uneasy to see how long a 
 time had elapsed since I had left my uncle. But on coming 
 into his room, to my surprise and relief, I found him up and
 
 394 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 dressed, and with a serene, though fatigued, expression of 
 countenance. He asked me no questions where I had been 
 perhaps from sympathy with my feelings in parting with Miss 
 Trevanion, perhaps from conjecture that the indulgence of 
 those feelings had not wholly engrossed my time. 
 
 But he said simply : " I think I understood from you that 
 you had sent for Austin is it so ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but I named , as the nearest point to the 
 
 Tower, for the place of meeting." 
 
 " Then let us go hence forthwith nay, I shall be better for 
 the change. And here, there must be curiosity, conjecture 
 torture ! " said he, locking his hands tightly together : 
 " Order the horses at once ! " 
 
 I left the room accordingly ; and while they were getting 
 ready the horses, I ran to the place where I had left Vivian. 
 He was still there, in the same attitude, covering his face with 
 his hands, as if to shut out the sun. I told him hastily of 
 Roland's improvement, of our approaching departure, and 
 asked him an address in London at which I could find him. 
 He gave me as his direction the same lodging at which I had 
 so often visited him. " If there be no vacancy there for me," 
 said he, " I shall leave word where I am to be found. But I 
 would gladly be where I was before " He did not finish the 
 sentence. I pressed his hand and left him. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SOME days have elapsed : we are in London, my father with 
 us ; and Roland has permitted Austin to tell me his tale, and 
 receive through Austin all that Vivian's narrative to me sug- 
 gested, whether in extenuation of the past, or in hope of re- 
 demption in the future. And Austin has inexpressibly soothed 
 his brother. And Roland's ordinary roughness has gone, and 
 his looks are meek, and his voice low. But he talks little, and 
 smiles never. He asks me no questions ; does not to me name 
 his son, nor recur to the voyage to Australia, nor ask " why it 
 is put off "; nor interest himself as before in preparations for 
 it he has no heart for anything. 
 
 The voyage is put off till the next vessel sails, and I have 
 seen Vivian twice or thrice, and the result of the interviews 
 has disappointed and depressed me. It seems to me that 
 much of the previous effect I had produced is already oblit- 
 erated. At the very sight of the great Babel the evidence of 
 the ease, the luxury, the wealth, the pomp, the strife, the pen-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 395 
 
 ury, the famine, and the rags, which the focus of civilization, 
 in the disparities of old societies, inevitably gathers together 
 the fierce, combative disposition seemed to awaken again ; the 
 perverted ambition, the hostility to the world ; the wrath, the 
 scorn ; the war with man, and the rebellious murmur against 
 Heaven. There was still the one redeeming point of repen- 
 tance for his wrongs to his father his heart was still softened 
 there ; and, attendant on that softness, I hailed a principle 
 more like that of honor than I had yet recognized in Vivian. 
 He cancelled the agreement which had assured him of a pro- 
 vision at the cost of his father's comforts. " At least, there," 
 he said, " I will injure him no more ! " 
 
 But while, on this point, repentance seemed genuine, it was 
 not so with regard to his conduct towards Miss Trevanion. 
 His gypsy nurture, his loose associates, his extravagant French 
 romances, his theatrical mode of looking upon love intrigues 
 and stage plots, seemed all to rise between his intelligence and 
 the due sense of the fraud and treachery he had practised. 
 He seemed to feel more shame at the exposure than at the 
 guilt ; more despair at the failure of success than gratitude at 
 escape from crime. In a word, the nature of a whole life was 
 not to be remodelled at once at least by an artificer so un- 
 skilled as I. 
 
 After one of these interviews, I stole into the room where 
 Austin sat with Roland, and, watching a seasonable moment 
 when Roland, shaking off a revery, opened his Bible and sat down 
 to it, with each muscle in his face set, as I had seen it before, 
 into iron resolution, I beckoned my father from the room. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. I have again seen my cousin. I cannot 
 make the way I wish. My dear father, you must see him. 
 
 MR. CAXTON. I ? Yes assuredly, if I can be of any ser- 
 vice. But will he listen to me ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. I think so. A young man will often respect 
 in his elder what he will resent as a presumption in his con- 
 temporary. 
 
 MR. CAXTON. It may be so (then more thoughtfully) : 
 but you describe this strange boy's mind as a wreck ! In 
 what part of the mouldering timbers can I fix the grappling 
 hook ? Here, it seems that most of the supports on which we 
 can best rely, when we would save another, fail us. Religion, 
 honor, the associations of childhood, the bonds of home, filial 
 obedience even the intelligence of self-interest, in the phil- 
 osophical sense of the word. And I, too ! a mere book- 
 man ! My dear son ! I despair !
 
 396 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. No, you do not despair no, you must suc- 
 ceed ; for, if you do not, what is to become of Uncle Roland ? 
 Do you not see his heart is fast breaking ? 
 
 MR. CAXTON. Get me my hat ; I will go. I will save this 
 Ishmael I will not leave him till he is saved ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS (some minutes after, as they are walking 
 towards Vivian's lodgings). You ask me what support you 
 are to cling to. A strong and a good one, sir. 
 
 MR. CAXTON. Ah ! what is that ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Affection ! There is a nature capable of 
 strong affection at the core of this wild heart ! He could love 
 his mother ; tears gush to his eyes at her name he would 
 have starved rather than part with the memorial of that love. 
 It was his belief in his father's indifference, or dislike, that 
 hardened and embruted him ; it is only when he hears how 
 that father loved him, that 1 now melt his pride and curb his 
 passions. You have affection to deal with ! Do you despair 
 now ? 
 
 My father turned on me those eyes so inexpressibly benign 
 and mild, and replied softly, " No ! " 
 
 We reached the house ; and my father said, as we knocked 
 at the door : " If he is at home leave me. This is a hard 
 study to which you have set me ; I must work at it alone." 
 
 Vivian was at home, and the door closed on his visitor. 
 My father stayed some hours. 
 
 On returning home, to my great surprise I found Trevanion 
 with my uncle. He had found us out no easy matter, I 
 should think. But a good impulse in Trevanion was not of 
 that feeble kind which turns home at the sight of difficulty. 
 He had come to London on purpose to see and to thank us. 
 
 I did not think there had been so much of delicacy of 
 what I may call the " beauty of kindness " in a man whom 
 incessant business had rendered ordinarily blunt and abrupt. 
 I hardly recognized the impatient Trevanion in the soothing, 
 tender, subtle respect that rather implied than spoke gratitude, 
 and sought to insinuate what he owed to the unhappy father, 
 without touching on his wrongs from the son. But of this 
 kindness, which showed how Trevanion's high nature of gentle- 
 man raised him aloof from that coarseness of thought which 
 those absorbed wholly in practical affairs often contract of 
 this kindness, so noble and so touching, Roland seemed 
 scarcely aware. He sat by the embers of the neglected fire, 
 his hands grasping the arms of his elbow-chair, his head droop- 
 ing on his bosom ; and only by a deep hectic flush on his dark
 
 CAXTONrf. 307 
 
 cheek could you have seen that he distinguished between an 
 ordinary visitor and the man whose child he had helped to 
 save. This minister of state, this high member of the elect, at 
 whose gift are places, peerages, gold sticks, and ribbons, has 
 nothing at his command for the bruised spirit of the half-pay 
 soldier. Before that poverty, that grief, and that pride, the 
 King's Counsellor was powerless. Only when Trevanion rose 
 to depart, something like a sense of the soothing intention which 
 the visit implied seemed to rouse the repose of the old man, 
 and to break the ice at its surface ; for he followed Trevanion 
 to the door, took both his hands, pressed them, then turned 
 away, and resumed his seat. Trevanion beckoned to me, and 
 I followed him downstairs, and into a little parlor which was 
 unoccupied. 
 
 After some remarks upon Roland, full of deep and consider- 
 ate feeling, and one quick, hurried reference to the son to 
 the effect that his guilty attempt would never be known by the 
 world Trevanion then addressed himself to me with a warmth 
 and urgency that took me by surprise. " After what has 
 passed," he exclaimed, "I cannot suffer you to leave England 
 thus. Let me not feel with you, as with your uncle, that there 
 is nothing by which I can repay no, I will not so put it stay 
 and serve your country at home : it is my prayer, it is Ellinor's. 
 Out of all at my disposal, it will go hard but what I shall find 
 something to suit you." And then, hurrying on, Trevanion 
 spoke flatteringly of my pretensions, in right of birth and capa- 
 bilities, to honorable employment, and placed before me a pic- 
 ture of public life, its prizes and distinctions, which, for the 
 moment at least, made my heart beat loud and my breath come 
 quick. But still, even then, I felt (was it an unreasonable 
 pride?) that there was something that jarred, something that 
 humbled, in the thought of holding all my fortunes as a de- 
 pendency on the father of the woman I loved, but might not 
 aspire to ; something even of personal degradation in the 
 mere feeling that I was thus to be repaid for a service, and 
 recompensed for a loss. But these were not reasons I could 
 advance ; and, indeed, so for the time did Trevanion's gener- 
 osity and eloquence overpower me, that I could only falter out 
 my thanks, and my promise that I would consider and let him 
 know. 
 
 With that promise he was forced to content himself ; he 
 told me to direct to him at his favorite country seat, whither 
 he was going that day, and so left me. I looked round the 
 humble parlor of the mean lodging-house, and Trevanion's
 
 39# THE CAXTONS. 
 
 words came again before me like a flash of golden light. I 
 stole into the open air, and wandered through the crowded 
 streets, agitated and disturbed. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SEVERAL days elapsed and of each day my father spent a 
 considerable part at Vivian's lodgings. But he maintained a 
 reserve as to his success, begged me not to question him, and 
 to refrain also for the present from visiting my cousin. My 
 uncle guessed or knew his brother's mission ; for I observed 
 that, whenever Austin went noiseless away, his eye brightened, 
 and the color rose in a hectic flush to his cheek. At last my 
 father came to me one morning, his carpet-bag in his hand, 
 and said, " I am going away for a week or two. Keep Roland 
 company till I return." 
 
 " Going with him ? " 
 
 " With him." 
 
 " That is a good sign." 
 
 " I hope so : that is all I can say now." 
 
 The week had not quite passed when I received from my 
 father the letter I am about to place before the reader, and 
 you may judge how earnestly his soul must have been in the 
 task it had volunteered, if you observe how little, compara- 
 tively speaking, the letter contains of the subtleties and pedan- 
 tries (may the last word be pardoned, for it is scarcely a just 
 one) which ordinarily left my father, a scholar even in the 
 midst of his emotions. He seemed here to have abandoned 
 his books, to have put the human heart before the eyes of his 
 pupil, and said : " Read and ##-learn ! " 
 
 To PISISTRATUS CAXTON. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON : 
 
 " It were needless to tell you all the earlier difficulties I have 
 had to encounter with my charge, nor to repeat all the means 
 which, acting on your suggestion (a correct one), I have em- 
 ployed to arouse feelings long dormant and confused, and 
 allay others, long prematurely active and terribly distinct. 
 The evil was simply this : here was the intelligence of a man 
 in all that is evil, and the ignorance of an infant in all that is 
 good. In matters merely worldly, what wonderful acumen ! 
 In the plain principles of right and wrong, what gross and 
 stolid obtuseness ! At one time, I am straining all my poor 
 wit to grapple in an encounter on the knottiest mysteries of
 
 THE CAXTONS. 399 
 
 social life ; at another I am guiding reluctant fingers over the 
 horn-book of the most obvious morals. Here hieroglyphics, 
 and there pothooks ! But as long as there is affection in a 
 man, why, there is nature to begin with ! To get rid of all 
 the rubbish laid upon her, clear back the way to that Nature, 
 and start afresh that is one's only chance. 
 
 "Well, by degrees I won my way, waiting patiently till the 
 bosom, pleased with the relief, disgorged itself of all ' its peril- 
 ous stuff,' not chiding, not even remonstrating, seeming almost 
 to sympathize, till I got him, Socratically, to disprove himself. 
 When I saw that he no longer feared me that my company 
 had become a relief to him I proposed an excursion, and did 
 not tell him whither. 
 
 " Avoiding as much as possible the main north road (for I 
 did not wish, as you may suppose, to set fire to a train of as- 
 sociations that might blow us up to the dog-star), and, where 
 that avoidance was not possible, trayelling by night, I got him 
 into the neighborhood of the old Tower. I would not admit 
 him under its roof. But you know the little inn, three miles 
 off, near the trout stream ? We made our abode there. 
 
 " Well, I have taken him into the village, preserving his in- 
 cognito. I have entered with him into cottages, and turned 
 the talk upon Roland. You know how your uncle is adored ; 
 you know what anecdotes of his bold, warm-hearted youth 
 once, and now of his kind and charitable age, would spring up 
 from the garrulous lips of gratitude ! I made him see with 
 his own eyes, hear with his own ears, how all who knew 
 Roland loved and honored him except his son. Then I took 
 him round the ruins (still not suffering him to enter the 
 house), for those ruins are the key to Roland's character ; seeing 
 them, one sees the pathos in his poor foible of family pride. 
 There, you distinguish it from the insolent boasts of the pros- 
 perous, and feel that it is little more than the pious reverence 
 to the dead 'the tender culture of the tomb.' We sat down 
 on heaps of mouldering stone, and it was there that I ex- 
 plained to him what Roland was in youth, and what he had 
 dreamed that a son would be to him. I showed him the 
 graves of his ancestors, and explained to him why they were 
 sacred in Roland's eyes ! I had gained a great way, when he 
 longed to enter the home that should have been his ; and I 
 could make him pause of his own accord, and say, ' No, I must 
 first be worthy of it.' Then you would have smiled sly 
 satirist that you are to have heard me impressing upon this 
 acute, sharp-witted youth, all that we plain folk understand
 
 4OO THE CAXTONS. 
 
 by the name of HOME its perfect trust and truth, its simple 
 holiness, its exquisite happiness being to the world what 
 conscience is to the human mind. And after that, I brought 
 in his sister, whom till then he had scarcely named for 
 whom he scarcely seemed to care brought her in to aid the 
 father, and endear the home. ' And you know,' said I, ' that 
 if Roland were to die, it would be a brother's duty to supply 
 his place ; to shield her innocence to protect her name ! A 
 good name is something, then. Your father was not so wrong 
 to prize it. You would like yours to be that which your sister 
 would be proud to own ! ' 
 
 " While we were talking Blanche suddenly came to the spot, 
 and rushed to my arms. She looked on him as a stranger ; 
 but I saw his knees tremble. And then she was about to put 
 her hand in his but I drew her back. Was I cruel ? He 
 thought so. But when I dismissed her, I replied to his 
 reproach, ' Your sister is a part of Home. If you think your- 
 self worthy of either, go and claim both ; I will not object.' 
 ' She has my mother's eyes,' said he, and walked away. I 
 left him to muse amidst the ruins, while I went in to see your 
 poor mother, and relieve her fears about Roland, and make 
 her understand why I could not yet return home. 
 
 " This brief sight of his sister has sunk deep into him. 
 But now I approach what seems to me the great difficulty 
 of the whole. He is fully anxious to redeem his name to 
 regain his home. So far so well. But he cannot yet see 
 ambition, except with hard, worldly eyes. He still fancies 
 that all he has to do is to get money and power, and some of 
 those empty prizes in the Great Lottery which we often win 
 more easily by our sins than our virtues. (Here follows a 
 long passage from Seneca, omitted as superfluous.) He does 
 not even yet understand me or, if he does, he fancies me 
 a mere bookworm indeed, when I imply that he might be 
 poor, and obscure, at the bottom of fortune's wheel, and yet 
 be one we should be proud of ! He supposes that, to redeem 
 his name, he has only got to lacker it. Don't think me merely 
 the fond father, when I add my hope that I shall use you to 
 advantage here. I mean to talk to him to-morrow, as we 
 return to London, of you, and of your ambition : you shall 
 hear the result. 
 
 " At this moment (it is past midnight), I hear his step in 
 the room above me. The window-sash aloft opens for the 
 third time : would to heaven he could read the true astrology 
 of the stars ! There they are bright, luminous, benignant.
 
 THt CAXTONSJ. 4Oi 
 
 And I seeking to chain this wandering comet into the har- 
 monies of heaven ! Better task than that of astrologers, and 
 astronomers to boot ! Who among them can ' loosen the band 
 of Orion ' ? but who amongst us may not be permitted by 
 God to have sway over the action and orbit of the human 
 soul ? Your ever affectionate father, 
 
 "A. C." 
 
 Two days after the receipt of this letter came the following ; 
 and though I would fain suppress those references to myself 
 which must be ascribed to a father's partiality, yet it is so 
 needful to retain them in connection with Vivian, that I have 
 no choice but to leave the tender flatteries to the indulgence 
 of the kind. 
 
 " MY DEAR SON : I was not too sanguine as to the effect 
 that your simple story would produce upon your cousin. 
 Without implying any contrast to his own conduct, I described 
 that scene in which you threw yourself upon our sympathy, in 
 the struggle between love and duty, and asked for our counsel 
 and support ; when Roland gave you his blunt advice to tell 
 all to Trevanion ; and when, amidst such sorrow as the heart 
 in youth seems scarcely large enough to hold, you caught at 
 truth impulsively, and the truth bore you safe from the ship- 
 wreck. I recounted your silent and manly struggles ; your 
 resolution not to suffer the egotism of passion to unfit you for 
 the aims and ends of that spiritual probation which we call 
 LIFE. I showed you as you were, still thoughtful for us, inter- 
 ested in our interests, smiling on us, that we might not guess 
 that you wept in secret ! Oh, my son, my son ! do not think 
 that, in those times, I did not feel and pray for you ! And 
 while he was melted by my own emotion, I turned from your 
 love to your ambition. I made him see that you, too, had 
 known the restlessness which belongs to young, ardent 
 natures ; that you, too, had your dreams of fortune, and aspi- 
 rations for success. But I painted that ambition in its true 
 colors : it was not the desire of a selfish intellect, to be in 
 yourself a somebody a something raised a step or two in 
 the social ladder, for the pleasure of looking down on those 
 at the foot, but the warmer yearning of a generous heart : 
 your ambition was to repair your father's losses, minister to 
 your father's very foible, in his idle desire of fame, supply 
 to your uncle what he had lost in his natural heir, link your 
 success to useful objects, your interests to those of your kind, 
 your reward to the proud and grateful smiles of those you
 
 402 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 loved. That was thine ambition, O my tender Anachronism! 
 And when, as I closed the sketch, I said : 'Pardon me: you 
 know not what delight a father feels, when, while sending a 
 son away from him into the world, he can speak and think 
 thus of him ! But this, you see, is not your kind of ambition. 
 Let us talk of making money, and driving a coach-and-four 
 through this villanous world,' your cousin sank into a pro- 
 found revery ; and when he woke from it, it was like the 
 waking of the earth after a night in spring the bare trees had 
 put forth buds ! 
 
 " And, some time after, he startled me by a prayer that I 
 would permit him, with his father's consent, to accompany 
 you to Australia. The only answer I have given him as yet, 
 has been in the form of a question : ' Ask yourself if I ought ? 
 I cannot wish Pisistratus to be other than he is ; and unless 
 you agree with me in all his principles and objects, ought I to 
 incur the risk that you should give him your knowledge of the 
 world, and inoculate him with your ambition ? ' He was 
 struck, and had the candor to attempt no reply. 
 
 " Now, Pisistratus, the doubt I expressed to him is the 
 doubt I feel. For, indeed, it is only by home-truths, not 
 refining arguments, that I can deal with this unscholastic 
 Scythian, who, fresh from the Steppes, comes to puzzle me in 
 the Portico." 
 
 "On the one hand, what is to become of him in the Old 
 World ? At his age, and with his energies, it would be impos- 
 sible to cage him with us in the Cumberland ruins ; weariness 
 and discontent would undo all we could do. He has no 
 resource in books, and, I fear, never will have ! But to send 
 him forth into one of the overcrowded professions, to place 
 him amidst all those ' disparities of social life,' on the rough 
 stones of which he is perpetually grinding his heart; turn him 
 adrift amongst all the temptations to which he is most prone 
 this is a trial which, I fear, will be too sharp for a conversion 
 so incomplete. In the New World, no doubt, his energies 
 would find a safer field ; and even the adventurous and 
 desultory habits of his childhood might there be put to health- 
 ful account. Those complaints of the disparities of the 
 civilized world find, I suspect, an easier, if a bluffer, reply 
 from the political economist than the Stoic philosopher. 
 'You don't like them, you find it hard to submit to them,' 
 says the political economist ; 'but "they are the laws of a civil- 
 ized state, and you can't alter them. Wiser men than you 
 have tried to alter them, and never succeeded, though they
 
 ; iHE CAXl'ONS. 463 
 
 turned the earth topsy-turvy ! Very well ; but the world is 
 wide go into a state that is not so civilized. The disparities 
 of the Old World vanish amidst the New ! Emigration is the 
 reply of Nature to the rebellious cry against Art.' Thus 
 would say the political economist ; and, alas, even in your 
 case, my son, I found no reply to the reasonings ! I acknowl- 
 edge, then, that Australia might open the best safety-valve to 
 your cousin's discontent and desires ; but I acknowledge also 
 a counter-truth, which is this: ' It is not permitted to an 
 honest man to corrupt himself for the sake of others.' That is 
 almost the only maxim of Jean Jacques to which I can cheer- 
 fully subscribe ! Do you feel quite strong enough to resist 
 all the influences which a companionship of this kind may 
 subject you to strong enough to bear his burthen as your 
 own strong enough, also aye, and alert and vigilant 
 enough to prevent those influences harming the others, 
 whom you have undertaken to guide, and whose lots are con- 
 fided to you ? Pause well, and consider maturely, for this 
 must not depend upon a generous impulse. I think that your 
 cousin would now pass under your charge with a sincere 
 desire for reform ; but between sincere desire and steadfast 
 performance there is a long and dreary interval, even to the 
 best of us. Were it not for Roland, and had I one grain less 
 confidence in you, I could not entertain the thought of laying 
 on your young shoulders so great a responsibility. But every 
 new responsibility to an earnest nature is a new prop to 
 virtue ; and all I now ask of you is, to remember that it is a 
 solemn and serious charge, not to be undertaken without the 
 most deliberate gauge and measure of the strength with which 
 it is to be borne. 
 
 " In two days we shall be in London. Yours, my Anach- 
 ronism, anxiously and fondly, A. C." 
 
 I was in my own room while I read this letter, and I had 
 jnst finished it when, as I looked up, I saw Roland standing 
 opposite to me. " It is from Austin," said he : then he paused 
 a moment, and added, in a tone that seemed quite humble : 
 "May I see it? and dare I?" I placed the letter in his 
 hands, and retired a few paces, that he might not think I 
 watched his countenance while he read it. And I was only 
 aware that he had come to the end by a heavy, anxious, but 
 not disappointed sigh. Then I turned, and our eyes met, and 
 there was something in Roland's look, inquiring, and, as it 
 were, imploring. I interpreted it at once. 
 
 "Oh, yes, uncle," I said, smiling.; 1 " I have reflected, and I
 
 404 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 have no fear of the result. Before my father wrote, what he 
 now suggests had become my secret wish. As for our other 
 companions, their simple natures would defy all such sophis- 
 tries as but he is already half-cured of those. Let him come 
 with me, and when he returns he shall be worthy of a place in 
 your heart, beside his sister Blanche. I feel, I promise it do 
 not fear for me ! Such a change will be a talisman to myself. 
 I will shun every error that I might otherwise commit, so that 
 he may have no example to entice him to err." 
 
 I know that in youth, and the first superstition of fir ;t 
 love, we are credulously inclined to believe that love, and the 
 possession of the beloved, are the only happiness. But when 
 my uncle folded me in his arms, and called me the hope of his 
 age, and stay of his house the music of my father's praise 
 still ringing on my heart I do affirm that I knew a prouder 
 bliss than if Trevanion had placed Fanny's hand in mine, and 
 said : " She is yours." 
 
 And now the die was cast, the decision made. It was with 
 no regret that I wrote to Trevanion to decline his offers. Nor 
 was the sacrifice was so great, even putting aside the natural 
 pride which had before inclined to it, as it may seem to some ; 
 for, restless though I was, I had labored to constrain myself 
 to other views of life than those which close the vistas of am- 
 bition with images of the terrestrial deities Power and Rank. 
 Had I not been behind the scenes, noted all of joy and of 
 peace that the pursuit of power had cost Trevanion, and seen 
 how little of happiness rank gave even to one of the polished 
 habits and graceful attributes of Lord Castleton ? Yet each 
 nature seemed fitted so well the first for power, the last for 
 rank ! It is marvellous with what liberality Providence atones 
 for the partial dispensations of Fortune. Independence, or 
 the vigorous pursuit of it ; affection, with its hopes and its 
 rewards ; a life only rendered by Art more susceptible to 
 Nature ; in which the physical enjoyments are pure and 
 healthful ; in which the moral faculties expand harmoniously 
 with the intellectual, and the heart is at peace with the mind ; 
 is this a mean lot for ambition to desire and is it so far out 
 of human reach ? " Know thyself," said the old philosopher. 
 " Improve thyself," saith the new. The great object of the 
 Sojourner in Time is not to waste all his passions and gifts on 
 the things external, that he must leave behind ; that which he 
 cultivates within is all that he can carry into the Eternal Pro- 
 gress. We are here but as schoolboys, whose life begins where 
 school ends ; and the battles we fought with our rivals, and
 
 THE CAXTONS. 405 
 
 the toys that we shared with our playmcttes, and the names 
 that we carved high or low, on the wall, above our desks will 
 they so much bestead us hereafter ? As new fates crowd upon 
 us, can they more than pass through the memory with a smile 
 or a sigh ? Look back to thy school days, and answer. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Two weeks since the date of the preceding chapter have 
 passed ; we have slept our last, for long years to come, on the 
 English soil. It is night and Vivian has been admitted to 
 an interview with his father. They have been together alone 
 an hour and more, and I and my father will not disturb them. 
 But the clock strikes the hour is late the ship sails to-night 
 we should be on board. And as we two- stand below, the door 
 opens in the room above, and a heavy step descends the stairs ; 
 the father is leaning on the son's arm. You should see how 
 timidly the son guides the halting step. And now as the light 
 gleams on their faces, there are tears on Vivian's cheek ; but 
 the face of Roland seems calm and happy. Happy ! when 
 about to be separated, perhaps forever, from his son ? Yes, 
 happy, because he has found a son for the first time ; and is 
 not thinking of years and absence, and the chance of death, 
 but thankful for the Divine Mercy, and cherishing celestial 
 hope. If ye wonder why Roland is happy in such an hour, 
 how vainly have I sought to make him breathe, and live, and 
 
 move before you ! 
 
 ******* 
 
 We are on board ; our luggage all went first. I had had 
 time, with the help of a carpenter, to knock up cabins for 
 Vivian, Guy Bolding, and myself, in the hold. For, thinking we 
 could not too soon lay aside the pretensions of Europe " de- 
 fine-gentlemanize " ourselves, as Trevanion recommended 
 we had engaged steerage passage, to the great humoring of 
 our finances. We had, too, the luxury to be by ourselves, and 
 our own Cumberland folks were round us, as our friends and 
 servants both. 
 
 We are on board, and have looked our last on those we are 
 to leave, and we stand on deck leaning on each other. We 
 are on board, and the lights, near and far, shine from the vast 
 city ; and the stars are on high, bright and clear, as for the 
 first mariners of old. Strange noises, rough voices, and crack- 
 ling cords, and here and there the sobs of women, mingling 
 with the oaths of men. Now the swing and heave of the
 
 406 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 vessel the dreary sense of exile that comes when the ship 
 fairly moves over the waters. And still we stood, and looked, 
 and listened ; silent, and leaning on each other. 
 
 Night deepened, the city vanished not a gleam from its 
 myriad lights ! The river widened and widened. How cold 
 comes the wind! is that a gale from the sea? The stars 
 grow faint the moon has sunk. And now, how desolate seem 
 the waters in the comfortless gray of dawn ! Then we 
 shivered and looked at each other, and muttered something 
 that was not the thought deepest at our hearts, and crept into 
 our berths feeling sure it was not for sleep. And sleep came 
 on us, soft and kind. The ocean lulled the exiles as on a 
 mother's breast. 
 
 PART SEVENTEENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE stage-scene has dropped. Settle yourselves, my good 
 audience ; chat each with his neighbor. Dear madam, in the 
 boxes, take up your opera-glass and look about you. Treat 
 Tom and pretty Sal to some of those fine oranges, O thou 
 happy looking mother in the two-shilling gallery ! Yes, brave 
 'prentice boys, in the tier above, the cat-call by all means ! 
 And you, " most potent, grave, and reverend seigneurs," in the 
 front row of the pit practised critics and steady old play- 
 goers who shake your heads at new actors and playwrights, 
 and, true to the creed of your youth (for the which all honor 
 to you !) firmly believe that we are shorter by the head than 
 those giants our grandfathers laugh or scold as you will, 
 while the drop-scene still shuts out the stage. It is just that 
 you should all amuse yourselves in your own way, O specta- 
 tors ! for the interval is long. All the actors have to change 
 their dresses ; all the scene-shifters are at work, sliding the 
 " sides" of a new world into their grooves ; and in high disdain 
 of all unity of time, as of place, you will see in the play-bills 
 that there is a great demand on your belief. You are called 
 upon to suppose that we are older by five years than when you 
 last saw us " fret our hour upon the stage." Five years ! the 
 author tells us especially to humor the belief by letting the
 
 THE CAXTONS. 407 
 
 drop-scene linger longer than usual between the lamps and 
 the stage. 
 
 Play up ! O ye fiddles and kettle-drums ! the time is 
 elapsed. Stop that cat-call, young gentleman ! Heads down 
 in the pit there ! Now the flourish is over the scene draws 
 up : look before. 
 
 A bright, clear, transparent atmosphere bright as that of 
 the East, but vigorous and bracing as the air of the North ; a 
 broad and fair river, rolling through wide, grassy plains ; 
 yonder, far in the distance, stretch away vast forest of ever- 
 green, and gentle slopes break the line of the cloudless hori- 
 zon ; see the pastures, Arcadian with sheep in hundreds and 
 thousands Thyrsis and Menalcas would have had hard labor 
 to count them, and small time, I fear, for singing songs about 
 Daphne. But, alas ! Daphnes are rare : no nymphs with gar- 
 lands and crooks trip over those pastures. 
 
 Turn your eyes to the right, nearer the river ; just parted 
 by a low fence from the thirty acres or so that are farmed for 
 amusement or convenience, not for profit that comes from 
 the sheep you catch a glimpse of a garden. Look not so 
 scornfully at the primitive horticulture such gardens are rare 
 in the Bush. I doubt if the stately King of the Peak ever 
 more rejoiced in the famous conservatory, through which you 
 may drive in your carriage, than do the sons of the Bush in 
 the herbs and blossoms which taste and breathe of the old 
 fatherland. Go on, and behold the palace of the patriarchs 
 it is of wood, I grant you, but the house we build with our 
 own hands is always a palace. Did you ever build one when 
 you were a boy ? And the lords of that palace are lords of the 
 land, almost as far as you can see, and of those numberless 
 flocks ; and, better still, of a health which an antediluvian 
 might have envied, and of nerves so seasoned with horse- 
 breaking, cattle-driving, fighting with wild blacks chases 
 from them and after them, for life and for death that if any 
 passion vex the breast of those kings of the Bushland, fear 
 at least is erased from the list. 
 
 See here and there through the landscape, rude huts like 
 the masters' wild spirits and fierce dwell within. But they 
 are tamed into order by plenty and hope ; by the hand open 
 but firm, by the eye keen but just. 
 
 Now, out from those woods, over those green rolling plains, 
 harum-scarum, helter-skelter, long hair flying wild, and all 
 bearded, as a Turk or a pard, comes a rider you recognize. 
 The rider dismounts, and another old acquaintance turns from
 
 408 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 a shepherd, with whom he has been conversing on matters that 
 never plagued Thyrsis and Menalcas, whose sheep seem to 
 have been innocent of foot-rot and scab and accosts the 
 horseman. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. My dear Guy, where on earth have you 
 been ? 
 
 GUY (producing a book from his pocket, with great tri- 
 umph). There! Dr. Johnson's" Lives of the Poets." Icouldnot 
 get the squatter to let me have " Kenilworth," though I offered 
 him three sheep for it. Dull old fellow, that Dr. Johnson, I sus- 
 pect ; so much the better, the book will last all the longer. 
 And here's a Sydney paper, too, only two months old ! (Guy 
 takes a short pipe, or dodeen, from his hat, in the band of 
 which it had been stuck, fills and lights it.) 
 
 PISISTRATUS. You must have ridden thirty miles at the 
 least. To think of your turning book-hunter, Guy ! 
 
 GUY BOLDING (philosophically). Ay, one don't know the 
 worth of a thing till one has lost it. No sneers at me, old fel- 
 low ; you, too, declared that you were bothered out of your 
 life by those books, till you found how long the evenings were 
 without them. Then, the first new book we got an old 
 volume of the " Spectator ! " such fun ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Very true. The brown cow has calved in your 
 absence. Do you know, Guy, I think we shall have no scab 
 in the fold this year. If so, there will be a rare sum to lay 
 by ! Things look up with us now, Guy. 
 
 GUY BONDING. Yes ! Very different from the first two 
 years. You drew a long face then. How wise you were, to 
 insist on our learning experience at another man's station be- 
 fore we hazarded our own capital ! But, by Jove ! Those 
 sheep, at first, were enough to plague a man out of his wits. 
 What with the wild dogs, just as the sheep had been washed 
 and ready to shear ; then that cursed scabby sheep of Joe 
 Timmes's, that we caught rubbing his sides so complacently 
 against our unsuspecting poor ewes. I wonder we did not 
 run away. But " Patientia fit " what is that line in Horace ! 
 Never mind now. " It is a long lane that has no turning " 
 does just as well as anything in Horace, and Virgil to boot. I 
 say, has not Vivian been here ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. No ; but he will be sure to come to-day. 
 
 GUY BOLDING. He has much the best berth of it. Horse- 
 breeding and cattle-feeding ; galloping after those wild devils ; 
 lost in a forest of horns ; beasts lowing, scampering, goring, 
 tearing off like mad buffaloes ; horses galloping up hill, down
 
 THE CAXTONS. 409 
 
 hill, over rocks, stones, and timber ; whips cracking, men 
 shouting your neck all but broken ; a great bull making at 
 you full rush. Such fun ! Sheep are dull things to look at 
 after a bull-hunt and a cattle feast. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Every man to his taste in the Bush. One 
 may make one's money more easily and safely, with more 
 adventure and sport, in the bucolic department. But one 
 makes larger profit and quicker fortune, with good luck and 
 good care, in the pastoral and our object, I take it, is to get 
 back to England as soon as we can. 
 
 GUY BOLDING. Humph ! I should be content to live and 
 die in the Bush nothing like it, if women were not so scarce. 
 To think of the redundant spinster population at home, and 
 not a spinster here to be seen within thirty miles, save Bet 
 Goggins, indeed and she has only one eye ! But to return 
 to Vivian why should it be our object, more than his, to get 
 back to England as soon as we can ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Not more, certainly. But you saw that an 
 excitement more stirring than that we find in the sheep had 
 become necessary to him. You know he was growing dull 
 and dejected ; the cattle station was to be sold a bargain. 
 And then the Durham bulls, and the Yorkshire horses, which 
 Mr. Trevanion sent you and me out as presents, were so tempt- 
 ing, I thought we might fairly add one speculation to another ; 
 and since one of us must superintend the bucolics, and two of 
 us were required for the pastorals, I think Vivian was the best 
 of us three to intrust with the first ; and, certainly, it has suc- 
 ceeded as yet. 
 
 GUY. Why, yes, Vivian is quite in his element always in 
 action, and always in command. Let him be first in every- 
 thing, and there is not a finer fellow, nor a better tempered 
 present company excepted. Hark ! the dogs, the crack of the 
 whip ; there he is. And now, I suppose, we may go to dinner. 
 
 [Enter VIVIAN. 
 
 His frame has grown more athletic ; his eye, more steadfast 
 and less restless, looks you full in the face. His smile is more 
 open ; but there is a melancholy in his expression, almost 
 approaching to gloom. His dress is the same as that of Pisis- 
 tratus and Guy white vest and trousers ; loose neckcloth, 
 rather gay in color ; broad cabbage-leaf hat ; his moustache 
 and beard are trimmed with more care than ours. He has a 
 large whip in his hand, and a gun slung across his shoulders. 
 Greetings are exchanged ; mutual inquiries as to cattle and 
 sheep, and the last horses despatched to the Indian market.
 
 416 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Guy shows the "Lives of the Poets"; Vivian asks if it is pos- 
 sible to get the "Life of Clive," or " Napoleon," or a copy of 
 " Plutarch." Guy shakes his head says, if a " Robinson 
 Crusoe " will do as well, he has seen one in a very tattered 
 state, but in too great request to be had a bargain. 
 
 The party turn into the hut. Miserable animals are 
 bachelors in all countries ; but most miserable in Bushland. 
 A man does not know what a helpmate of the soft sex is in 
 the Old World, where women seem a matter of course. But 
 in the Bush, a wife is literally bone of your bone, flesh of your 
 flesh your better half, your ministering angel, your Eve of 
 the Eden in short, all that poets have sung, or young orators 
 say at public dinners, when called upon to give the toast of 
 " The Ladies." Alas ! we are three bachelors, but we are 
 better off than bachelors often are in the bush. For the wife 
 of the shepherd I took from Cumberland does me and Bolding 
 the honor to live in our hut, and make things tidy and 
 comfortable. She has had a couple of children since we 
 have been in the Bush ; a wing has been added to the hut 
 for that increase of family. The children, I dare say, one 
 might have thought a sad nuisance in England, but I declare 
 that, surrounded as one is by great bearded men from 
 sunrise to sunset, there is something humanizing, musical, 
 and Christian-like in the very squall of the baby. There it 
 goes bless it ! As for my other companions from Cumber- 
 land, Miles Square, the most aspiring of all, has long left me, 
 and is superintendent to a great sheep-owner some two hun- 
 dred miles off. The Will-o'-the-Wisp is consigned to the 
 cattle station, where he is Vivian's head man, finding time now 
 and then to indulge his old poaching propensities at the ex- 
 pense of parrots, black cockatoos, pigeons, and kangaroos. 
 The shepherd remains with us, and does not seem, honest 
 fellow, to care to better himself ; he has a feeling of clanship, 
 which keeps down the ambition common in Australia. And 
 his wife such a treasure ! I assure you, the sight of her 
 smooth, smiling woman's face, when we return home at night- 
 fall, and the very flow of her gown, as she turns the " dam- 
 pers"* in the ashes, and fills the teapot, have in them some- 
 thing holy and angelical. How lucky our Cumberland swain 
 is not jealous! Not that there is any cause, enviable dog 
 though he be ; but where Desdemonas are so scarce, if you 
 could but guess how green-eyed their Othellos generally are ! 
 Excellent husbands, it is true none better; but you had 
 
 * A damper is a cake of flour baked without yeast, in the ashes.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 411 
 
 better think twice before you attempt to play the Cassio in 
 Bushland ! There, however, she is, dear creature ! rattling 
 among knives and forks, smoothing the table-cloth, setting on 
 the salt beef, and that rare luxury of pickles (the last pot in 
 our store), and the produce of our garden and poultry-yard, 
 which few Bushmen can boast of and the dampers, and a pot 
 of tea to each banqueter ; no wine, beer, nor spirits, those are 
 only for shearing-time. We have just said grace (a fashion 
 retained from the holy mother-country), when, bless my soul ! 
 what a clatter without, what a tramping of feet, what a bark- 
 ing of dogs ! Some guests have arrived. They are always 
 welcome in Bushland ! Perhaps a cattle-buyer in search of 
 Vivian ; perhaps that cursed squatter, whose sheep are always 
 migrating to ours. Never mind, a hearty welcome to all 
 friend or foe. The door opens ; one, two, three strangers. 
 More plates and knives ; draw your stools ; just in time. First 
 eat ; then what news ? 
 
 Just as the strangers sit down, a voice is heard at the door ; 
 
 " You will take particular care of this horse, young man : 
 walk him about a little ; wash his back with salt and water. 
 Just unbuckle the saddle-bags ; give them to me. Oh ! safe 
 enough, I dare say but papers of consequence. The pros- 
 perity of the colony depends on these papers. What would 
 become of you all if any accident happened to them, I shudder 
 to think." 
 
 And here, attired in a twill shooting-jacket, budding with 
 gilt buttons, impressed with a well-remembered device ; a 
 cabbage-leaf hat shading a face rarely seen in the Bush a 
 face smooth as razor could make it : neat, trim, respectable- 
 looking as ever his arm full of saddle-bags, and his nostrils 
 gently distended, inhaling the steam of the banquet, walks in 
 Uncle Jack. 
 
 PISISTRATUS (leaping up.) Is it possible ? You in Aus- 
 tralia you in the Bush ! 
 
 Uncle Jack, not recognizing Pisistratus in the tall, bearded 
 man who is making a plunge at him, recedes in alarm, ex- 
 claiming : "Who are you? never saw you before, sir! I 
 suppose you'll say next that I cnveyou something !" 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Uncle Jack ! 
 
 UNCLE JACK (dropping his saddle-bags). Nephew ! 
 Heaven be praised ! Come to my arms ! 
 
 They embrace ; mutual introductions to the company Mr. 
 Vivian, Mr. Bolding on the one side Major MacBlarney, Mr. 
 Bullion, Mr. Emanuel Speck, on the other. Major MacBlar-
 
 412 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 ney is a fine, portly man, with a slight Dublin brogue, who 
 squeezes your hand as he would a sponge. Mr. Bullion 
 reserved and haughty wears green spectacles, and gives you 
 a forefinger. Mr. Emanuel Speck unusually smart for the 
 Bush, with a blue satin stock, and one of those blouses com- 
 mon in Germany, with elaborate hems, and pockets enough 
 for Briareus to have put all his hands into at once is thin, 
 civil, and stoops bows, smiles, and sits down to dinner again, 
 with the air of a man accustomed to attend to the main 
 chance. 
 
 UNCLE JACK (his mouth full of beef). Famous beef ! 
 breed it yourself, eh ? Slow work that cattle-feeding ! 
 (Empties the rest of the pickle-jar into his plate.) Must learn 
 to go ahead in the New World railway times these ! We 
 can put him up to a thing or two eh, Bullion ? (Whispering 
 me) Great capitalist that Bullion ! LOOK AT HIM ! 
 
 Mr. BULLION (gravely). A thing or two ! If he has capi- 
 tal you have said it, Mr. Tibbets. (Looks round for the 
 pickles the green spectacles remain fixed upon Uncle Jack's 
 plate.) 
 
 UNCLE JACK. All that this colony wants is a few men like 
 us, with capital and spirit. Instead of paying paupers to 
 emigrate, they should pay rich men to come eh, Speck ? 
 
 While Uncle Jack turns to Mr. Speck, Mr. Bullion fixes his 
 fork in a pickled onion in Jack's plate, and transfers it to his 
 own, observing, not as incidentally to the onion, but to truth 
 in general : " A man, gentlemen, in this country, has only to 
 keep his eyes on the lookout, and seize on the first advan- 
 tage ! resources are incalculable ! " 
 
 Uncle Jack, returning to the plate and missing the onion, 
 forestalls Mr. Speck in seizing the last potato observing also, 
 and in the same philosophical and generalizing spirit as Mr. 
 Bullion : " The great thing in this country is to be always 
 beforehand : discovery and invention, promptitude and deci- 
 sion ! that's your go. Ton my life, one picks up sad, vulgar 
 sayings among the natives here ! ' that's your go ! ' shocking ! 
 What would your poor father say ? How is he good Austin ? 
 Well ? that's right : and my dear sister ? Ah, that damnable 
 Peck ! still harping on the Anti-Capitalist, eh ? But I'll 
 make it up to you all now. Gentlemen, charge your glasses 
 a bumper-toast. 
 
 Mr. SPECK (in an affected tone). I respond to the senti- 
 ment in a flowing cup. Glasses are not forthcoming. 
 
 UNCLE JACK. A bumper-toast to the health of the future
 
 THE CAXTONS. 413 
 
 millionnaire, whom I present to you in my nephew and sole 
 heir Pisistratus Caxton, Esq. Yes, gentlemen, I here pub- 
 licly announce to you that this gentleman will be the inheritor 
 of all my wealth freehold, leasehold, agricultural, and min- 
 eral ; and when I am in the cold grave (takes out his pocket- 
 handkerchief) and nothing remains of poor John Tibbets, look 
 upon that gentleman, and say, " John Tibbets lives again ! " 
 MR. SPECK (chauntingly) 
 
 " Let the bumper-toast go round." 
 
 GUY BOLDING. Hip, hip, hurrah ! three times three ! 
 What fun ! 
 
 Order is restored ; dinner-things are cleared ; each gentle- 
 man lights his pipe. 
 
 VIVIAN. What news from England ? 
 
 MR. BULLION. As to the funds, sir ? 
 
 MR. SPECK. I suppose you mean, rather, as to the railways : 
 great fortunes will be made there, sir ; but still I think that 
 our speculations here will 
 
 VIVIAN. I beg pardon for interrupting you, sir ; but I 
 thought, in the last papers, that there seemed something hos- 
 tile in the temper of the French. No chance of a war ? 
 
 MAJOR MACBLARNEY. Is it the wars you'd be after, young 
 gintleman ? If me interest at the Horse Guards can avail you, 
 bedad ! you'd make a proud man of Major MacBlarney. 
 
 MR. BULLION (authoritatively). No, sir, we won't have a 
 war : the capitalists of Europe and Australia won't have it. 
 The Rothschilds, and a few others that shall be nameless, have 
 only got to do //>, sir (Mr. Bullion buttons up his pockets) 
 and we'll do it too ; and then what becomes of your war, sir? 
 (Mr. Bullion snaps his pipe in the vehemence with which he 
 brings his hand on the table, turns round the green spectacles, 
 and takes up Mr. Speck's pipe, which that gentleman had laid 
 aside in an unguarded moment.) 
 
 VIVIAN. But the campaign in India? 
 
 MAJOR MACBLARNEY. Oh ! and if it's the Ingees you'd 
 
 BULLION (refilling Speck's pipe from Guy Bolding's exclusive 
 tobacco-pouch, and interrupting the Major). India that's 
 another matter : I don't object to that ! War there rather 
 good for the money market than otherwise ! 
 
 VIVIAN. What news there, then ? 
 
 MR. BULLION. Don't know haven't got India stock. 
 
 MR. SPECK. Nor I either. The day for India is over : 
 this is our India now. (Misses his tobacco-pipe ; sees it in
 
 414 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Bullion's mouth, and stares aghast ! N. B. Tli3 pipe is not a 
 clay dodeen, but a small meerschaum irreplaceable in Bush- 
 land.) 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Well, uncle, but I am at a loss to understand 
 what new scheme you have in hand. Something benevolent, 
 I am sure something for your fellow-creatures for philan^ 
 thropy and mankind ? 
 
 MR. BULLION (starting). Why, young man, are you as 
 green as all that ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. I, sir no Heaven forbid! But my (Uncle 
 Jack holds up his forefinger imploringly, and spills his tea 
 over the pantaloons of his nephew !) 
 
 Pisistratus, wroth at the effect of the tea, and therefore 
 obdurate to the sign of the forefinger, continues rapidly : 
 "But my uncle is! some Grand National-Imperial-Colonial- 
 Anti-Monopoly " 
 
 UNCLE JACK. Pooh ! pooh ! What a droll boy it is ! 
 
 MR. BULLION (solemnly). With these notions, which not 
 even in jest should be fathered on my respectable and intelli- 
 gent friend here (Uncle Jack bows), I am afraid you will never 
 get on in the world, Mr. Caxton. I don't think our specula- 
 tions will suitjv?#/ It is growing late, gentlemen : we must 
 push on. 
 
 UNCLE JACK (jumping up). And I have so much to say to 
 the dear boy. Excuse us : you know the feelings of an uncle ! 
 (Takes my arm, and leads me out of the hut.) 
 
 UNCLE JACK (as soon as we are in the air). You'll ruin us 
 you, me, and your father and mother. Yes ! What do you 
 think I work and slave myself for but for you and yours ? 
 Ruin us all, I say, if you talk in that way before Bullion ! His 
 heart is as hard as the Bank of England's and quite right he 
 is, too. Fellow-creatures ! stuff ! I have renounced that 
 delusion the generous follies of my youth ! I begin at last 
 to live for myself that is, for self and relatives ! I shall suc- 
 ceed this time, you'll see ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Indeed, uncle, I hope so sincerely ; and, to 
 do you justice, there is always something very clever in your 
 ideas only they don't 
 
 UNCLE JACK (interrupting me with a groan). The fortunes 
 that other men have gained by my ideas ! shocking to think 
 of ! What ! and shall I be reproached if I live no longer for 
 such a set of thieving, greedy, ungrateful knaves ? No, no ! 
 Number One shall be my maxim ; and I'll make you a Croesus, 
 my boy I will.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 415 
 
 Pisistratus, after grateful acknowledgments for all prospec- 
 tive benefits, inquires how long Jack has been in Australia ; 
 what brought him into the colony ; and what are his present 
 views. Learns, to his astonishment, that Uncle Jack has been 
 four years in the colony ; that he sailed the year after Pisis- 
 tratus induced, he says, by that illustrious example, and by 
 some mysterious agency or commission, which he will not ex- 
 plain, emanating either from the Colonial Office, or an Emigra- 
 tion Company. Uncle Jack has been thriving wonderfully 
 since he abandoned his fellow-creatures. His first speculation, 
 on arriving at the colony, was in buying some houses in Syd- 
 ney, which (by those fluctuations in prices common to the 
 extremes of the colonial mind which is one while skipping 
 up the rainbow with Hope, and at another plunging into Ache- 
 rontian abysses with Despair) he bought excessively cheap, 
 and sold excessively dear. But his grand experiment has been 
 in connection with the infant settlement of Adelaide, of which 
 he considers himself one of the first founders ; and as, in the 
 rush of emigration which poured to that favored establishment 
 in the earlier years of its existence, rolling on its tide all man- 
 ner of credulous and inexperienced adventurers, vast sums 
 were lost, so, of those sums, certain fragments and pickings 
 were easily griped and gathered up by a man of Uncle Jack's 
 readiness and dexterity. Uncle Jack had contrived to pro- 
 cure excellent letters of introduction to the colonial grandees : 
 he got into close connection with some of the principal parties 
 seeking to establish a monopoly of land (which has since been 
 in great measure effected, by raising the price, and excluding 
 the small fry of petty capitalists); and effectually imposed on 
 them, as a man with a vast knowledge of public business in 
 the confidence of great men at home considerable influence 
 with the English press, etc., etc. And no discredit to their 
 discernment; for Jack, when he pleased, had a way with him 
 that was almost irresistible. In this manner he contrived to 
 associate himself and his earnings with men really of large capi- 
 tal, and long practical experience in the best mode by which 
 that capital might be employed. He was thus admitted into 
 a partnership (so far as his means went) with Mr. Bullion, who 
 was one of the largest sheep owners and landholders in the 
 colony ; though, having many other nests to feather, that gen- 
 tleman resided in state at Sydney, and left his runs and stations 
 to the care of overseers and superintendents. But land- jobbing 
 was Jack's special delight ; and an ingenious German having 
 lately declared that the neighborhood of Adelaide betrayed
 
 416 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 the existence of those mineral treasures which have since been 
 brought to-day, Mr. Tibbets had persuaded Bullion and the 
 other gentlemen now accompanying him, to undertake the 
 land journey from Sydney to Adelaide, privily and quietly, to 
 ascertain the truth of the German's report, which was at pres- 
 ent very little believed. If the ground failed of mines, Uncle 
 Jack's account convinced his associates that mines quite as 
 profitable might be found in the pockets of the raw adventurers 
 who were ready to buy one year at the dearest market, and 
 driven to sell the next at the cheapest. 
 
 " But," concluded Uncle Jack, with a sly look, and giving 
 me a poke in the ribs, " I've had to do with mines before now, 
 and know what they are. I'll let nobody but you into my 
 pet scheme ; you shall go shares if you like. The scheme is 
 as plain as a problem in Euclid if the German is right, and 
 there are mines, why the mines will be worked. Then miners 
 must be employed ; but miners must eat, drink, and spend 
 their money. The thing is to get that money. Do you take ? " 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Not at all ! 
 
 UNCLE JACK (majestically). A Great Grog and Store 
 Depot ! The miners want grog and stores, come to your 
 depot ; you take their money ; Q.E.D. ! Shares eh, you 
 dog ? Cribs, as we said at school. Put in a paltry thousand 
 or two, and you shall go halves. 
 
 PISISTRATUS (vehemently). Not for all the mines of Potosi. 
 
 UNCLE JACK (good-humoredly). Well, it shant be the 
 worse for you. I shant alter my will, in spite of your want of 
 confidence. Your young friend that Mr. Vivian, I think 
 you call him intelligent-looking fellow, sharper than the 
 other, I guess would he like a share ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. In the grog depot ? You had better ask 
 him ! 
 
 UNCLE JACK. What ! you pretend to be aristocratic in the 
 Bush ! Too good. Ha, ha they're calling to me we must 
 be off. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. I will ride with you a few miles. What say 
 you, Vivian ? and you, Guy ? 
 
 As the whole party now joined us. 
 
 Guy prefers basking in the sun, and reading the " Lives of 
 the Poets." Vivian assents ; we accompany the party till 
 sunset. Major MacBlarney prodigalizes his offers of service 
 in every conceivable department of life, and winds up with an 
 assurance that, if we want anything in those departments 
 connected with engineering, such as mining, mapping, survey-
 
 THE CAXTONS. 417 
 
 ing, etc., he will serve us, bedad, for nothing, or next to it. 
 We suspect Major MacBlarney to be a civil engineer, suffer- 
 ing under the innocent hallucination that he has been in the 
 army. 
 
 Mr. Speck lets out to me, in a confidential whisper, that 
 Mr. Bullion is monstrous rich, and has made his fortune from 
 small beginnings, by never letting a good thing go. I think 
 of Uncle Jack's pickled onion, and Mr. Speck's meerschaum, 
 and perceive, with respectful admiration, that Mr. Bullion acts 
 uniformly on one grand system. Ten minutes afterwards, 
 Mr. Bullion observes, in a tone equally confidential, that Mr. 
 Speck, though so smiling and civil, is as sharp as a needle ; 
 and that if I want any shares in the new speculation, or 
 indeed in any other, I had better come at once to Bullion, 
 who would not deceive me for my weight in gold. " Not," 
 added Bullion, " that I have anything to say against Speck. 
 He is well enough to do in the world a warm man, sir ; and 
 when a man is really warm, I am the last person to think of 
 his little faults, and turn on him the cold shoulder." 
 
 " Adieu ! " said Uncle Jack, pulling out once more his 
 pocket-handkerchief ; " my love to all at home." And sink- 
 ing his voice into a whisper : " If ever you think better of the 
 grog and store depot, nephew, you'll find a uncle's heart in 
 this bosom ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IT was night as Vivian and myself rode slowly home. Night 
 in Australia ! How 'mpossible to describe its beauty ! 
 Heaven seems, in that new world, so much nearer to earth ! 
 Every star stands out so bright and particular, as if fresh from 
 the time when the Maker willed it. And the moon like a 
 large silvery sun ; the least object on which it shines so dis- 
 tinct and so still.* Now and then a sound breaks the silence, 
 but a sound so much in harmony with the solitude that it only 
 deepens its charms. Hark ! the low cry of a night-bird, from 
 yonder glen amidst the small, gray, gleaming rocks. Hark ! 
 as night deepens, the bark of the distant watch-dog, or the 
 low, strange howl of his more savage species, from which he 
 defends the fold. Hark ! the echo catches the sound, and 
 flings it sportively from hill to hill farther, and farther, and 
 
 * " I have frequently," says Mr. Wilkinson, in his invaluable work upon South Austra- 
 lia, at once so graphic and so practical, " been out on a journey in such a night, and whilst 
 allowing the horse his own time to walk along the road, have solaced myself by reading ia 
 the stiii moonlight."
 
 418 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 farther down, till all again is hushed, and the flowers hang 
 noiseless over your head, as you ride through a grove of the 
 giant gum-trees. Now the air is literally charged with the 
 odors, and the sense of fragrance grows almost painful in its 
 pleasure. You quicken your pace, and escape again into the 
 open plains and the full moonlight, and through the slender 
 tea-trees catch the gleam of the river, and in the exquisite 
 fineness of the atmosphere hear the soothing sound of its 
 murmur. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. And this land has become the heritage of 
 our people ! Methinks I see, as- I gaze around, the scheme 
 of the All-beneficent Father disentangling itself clear through 
 the troubled history of mankind. How mysteriously, while 
 Europe rears its populations, and fulfils its civilizing mission, 
 these realms have been concealed from its eyes divulged to 
 us just as civilization needs the solution to its problems ; a 
 vent for feverish energies, baffled in the crowd ; offering bread 
 to the famished, hope to the desperate ; in very truth enabling 
 the " New World to redress the balance of the Old." Here, 
 what a Latium for the wandering spirits, 
 
 " On various seas by various tempests toss'd." 
 
 Here, the actual ^Eneid passes before our eyes. From the 
 huts of the exiles scattered over this hardier Italy, who can 
 not see in the future, 
 
 " A race from whence new Alban sires shall come, 
 And the long glories of a future Rome ? " 
 
 VIVIAN (mournfully). Is it from the outcasts of the work- 
 house, the prison, and the transport ship, that a second Rome 
 is to arise ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. There is something in this new soil in the 
 labor it calls forth, in the hope it inspires, in the sense of prop- 
 erty, which I take to be the core of social morals that ex- 
 pedites the work of redemption with marvellous rapid ity. 
 Take them altogether, whatever their origin, or whatever 
 brought them hither, they are a fine, manly, frank-hearted 
 race, these colonists now ! rude, not mean, especially in the 
 Bush, and, I suspect, will ultimately become as gallant and 
 honest a population as that now springing up in South Aus- 
 tralia, from which convicts are excluded and happily ex- 
 cluded for the distinction will sharpen emulation. As to 
 the rest, and in direct answer to your question, I fancy even 
 the emancipist part of our population every whit as respect- 
 able as the mongrel robbers under Romulus.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 419 
 
 VIVIAN. But were they not soldiers ? I mean the first 
 Romans ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. My dear cousin, we are in advance of those 
 grim outcasts, if we can get lands, houses, and wives (though 
 the last is difficult, and it is well that we have no white Sabines 
 in the neighborhood), without that same soldiering which was 
 the necessity of their existence. 
 
 VIVIAN (after a pause). I have written to my father, and 
 to yours more fully stating in the one letter my wish, in the 
 other trying to explain the feelings from which it springs. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Are the letters gone ? 
 
 VIVIAN. Yes. 
 
 PISISTRATUS. And you would not show them to me ! 
 
 VIVIAN. Do not speak so reproachfully. I promised your 
 father to pour out my whole heart to him, whenever it was 
 troubled and at strife. I promise you now that I will go by 
 his advice. 
 
 PISISTRATUS (disconsolately). What is there in this mili- 
 tary life for which you yearn that can yield you more food for 
 healthful excitement and stirring adventure than your present 
 pursuits afford ? 
 
 VIVIAN. Distinction ! You do not see the difference 
 between us. You have but a fortune to make, I have a name 
 to redeem ; you look calmly on to the future ; I have a dark 
 blot to erase from the past. 
 
 PISISTRATUS (soothingly). It is erased. Five years of no 
 weak bewailings, but of manly reform, steadfast industry, con- 
 duct so blameless that even Guy (whom I look upon as the 
 incarnation of blunt English honesty) half doubts whether you 
 are 'cute enough for " a station " a character already so high 
 that I long for the hour when you will again take your father's 
 spotless name, and give me the pride to own our kinship to 
 the world, all this surely redeems the errors arising from an 
 uneducated childhood and a wandering youth. 
 
 VIVIAN (leaning over his horse, and putting his hand on my 
 shoulder). " My dear friend, what do I owe you ! " Then 
 recovering his emotion, and pushing on at a quicker pace, 
 while he continues to speak : " But can you not see that, just 
 in proportion as my comprehension of right would become 
 clear and strong, so my conscience would become also more 
 sensitive and reproachful ; and the better I understand my 
 gallant father, the more I must desire to be as he would have 
 had his son. Do you think it would content him, could he see 
 me branding cattle, and bargaining with bullock-drivers ?
 
 420 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Was it not the strongest wish of his heart that I should adopt 
 his own career ? Have I not heard you say that he would 
 have had you too a soldier, but for your mother ? If I made 
 thousands, and tens of thousands, by this ignoble calling, 
 would they give my father half the pleasure thai he would feel 
 at seeing my name honorably mentioned in a despatch ? No, 
 no ! You have banished the gypsy blood, and now the soldier's 
 breaks out ! Oh, for one glorious day in which I may clear 
 my way into fair repute, as our fathers before us ! when tears 
 of proud joy may flow from those eyes that have wept such 
 hot drops at my shame. When she, too, in her high station 
 beside that sleek lord, may say : ' His heart was not so vile. 
 after all ! ' Don't argue with me it is in vain ! Pray, rather, 
 that I may have leave to work out my own way ; for I tell you 
 that, if condemned to stay here, I may not murmur aloud I 
 may go through this round of low duties as the brute turns 
 the wheel of a mill ! but my heart will prey on itself, and you 
 shall soon write on my gravestone the epitaph of the poor 
 poet you told us of, whose true disease was the thirst of glory : 
 4 Here lies one whose name was written in water.' " 
 
 I had no answer ; that contagious ambition made my own 
 veins run more warmly, and my own heart beat with a louder 
 tumult. Amidst the pastoral scenes, and under the tranquil 
 moonlight of the New, the Old World, even in me, rude Bush- 
 man, claimed for a while its son. But as we rode on, the air, 
 so inexpressibly buoyant, yet soothing as an anodyne, restored 
 me to peaceful Nature. Now the flocks, in their snowy clusters, 
 were seen sleeping under the stars ; hark ! the welcome of the 
 watchdogs ; see the light gleaming far from the chink of the 
 door ! And, pausing, I said aloud : " No, there is more glory 
 in laying these rough foundations of a mighty state, though no 
 trumpets resound with your victory, though no laurels shall 
 shadow your tomb, tnan in forcing the onward progress of 
 your race over burning cities and hecatombs of men ! " I 
 looked round for Vivian's answer ; but, ere I spoke, he had 
 spurred from my side, and I saw the wild dogs slinking back 
 from the hoofs of his horse, as he rode at speed, on the sward, 
 through the moonlight. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE weeks and the months rolled on, and the replies to 
 Vivian's letters came at last : I foreboded too well their pur- 
 port. I knew that my father could not set himself in opposi-
 
 THF. CAXTGNS. 421 
 
 tion to the deliberate and cherished desire of a man who had 
 now arrived at the full strength of his understanding, and 
 must be left at liberty to make his own election of the paths 
 of life. Long after that date, I saw Vivian's letter to my 
 father ; and even his conversation had scarcely prepared me 
 for the pathos of that confession of a mind remarkable alike 
 for its strength and its weakness. If born in the age, or sub- 
 mitted to the influences, of religious enthusiasm, here was a 
 nature that, awaking from sin, could not have been contented 
 with the sober duties of mediocre goodness that would have 
 plunged into the fiery depths of monkish fanaticism, wrestled 
 with the fiend in the hermitage, or marched barefoot on the 
 infidel with the sackcloth for armor, the cross for a sword. 
 Now, the impatient desire for redemption took a more mun- 
 dane direction, but with something that seemed almost spirit- 
 ual in its fervor. And this enthusiasm flowed through strata 
 of such profound melancholy ! Deny it a vent, and it might 
 sicken into lethargy, or fret itself into madness ; give it the 
 vent, and it might vivify and fertilize as it swept along. 
 
 My father's reply to this letter was what might be expected. 
 It gently reinforced the old lessons in the distinctions between 
 aspirations towards the perfecting ourselves aspirations that 
 are never in vain and the morbid passion for applause from 
 others, which shifts conscience from our own bosoms to the 
 confused Babel of the crowd, and calls it " fame." But my 
 father, in his counsels, did not seek to oppose a mind so 
 obstinately bent upon a single course ; he sought rather to 
 guide and strengthen it in the way it should go. The seas of 
 human life are wide. Wisdom may suggest the voyage, but it 
 must first look to the condition of the ship, and the nature of 
 the merchandise to exchange. Not every vessel that sails 
 from Tarshish can bring back the gold of Ophir ; but shall it 
 therefore rot in the harbor ? No ; give its sails to the wind ! 
 
 But I had expected that Roland's letter to his son would 
 have been full of joy and exultation joy there was none in it, 
 yet exultation there might be, though serious, grave, and sub- 
 dued. In the proud assent that the old soldier gave to his 
 son's wish, in his entire comprehension of motives so akin to 
 his own nature, there was yet a visible sorrow ; it seemed even 
 as if he constrained himself to the assent he gave. Not till I 
 had read it again and again, could I divine Roland's feelings 
 while he wrote. At this distance of time, I comprehend them 
 well. Had he sent from his side, into noble warfare, some 
 boy fresh to life, new to sin, with an enthusiasm pure and
 
 /*22 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 single-hearted as his own young chivalrous ardor, then, with 
 all a soldier's joy, he had yielded a cheerful tribute to the hosts 
 of England ; but here he recognized, though perhaps dimly, 
 not the frank military fervor, but the stern desire of expiation, 
 and in that thought he admitted forebodings that would have 
 been otherwise rejected, so that, at the close of the letter, it 
 seemed not the fiery, war-seasoned Roland that wrote, but 
 rather some timid, anxious mother. Warnings and entreaties 
 and cautions not to be rash, and assurances that the best 
 soldiers were ever the most prudent; were these the counsels 
 of the fierce veteran who, at the head of the forlorn hope, had 
 mounted the wall at , his sword between his teeth ! 
 
 But, whatever his presentiments, Roland had yielded at 
 once to his son's prayer hastened to London at the receipt 
 of his letter obtained a commission in a regiment now in 
 active service in India ; and that commission was made out in 
 his son's name. The commission, with an order to join the 
 regiment as soon as possible, accompanied the letter. 
 
 And Vivian, pointing to the name addressed to him, said : 
 " Now, indeed, I may resume this name, and, next to Heaven, 
 will I hold it sacred ! It shall guide me to glory in life, or my 
 father shall read it, without shame, on my tomb ! " I see him 
 before me, as he stood then his form erect, his dark eyes 
 solemn in their light, a serenity in his smile, a grandeur on his 
 brow, that I had never marked till then ! Was that the same 
 man I had recoiled from as the sneering cynic, shuddered at 
 as the audacious traitor, or wept over as the cowering outcast ? 
 How little the nobleness of aspect depends on symmetry of 
 feature, or the mere proportions of form ! What dignity robes 
 the man who is filled with a lofty thought ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HE is gone ! He has left a void in my existence. I had 
 grown to love him so well ; I had been so proud when men 
 praised him. My love was a sort of self-love I had looked 
 upon him in part as the work of my own hands. I am a long 
 time ere I can settle back, with good heart, to my pastoral life. 
 Before my cousin went, we cast up our gains, and settled our 
 shares. When he resigned the allowance which Roland had 
 made him, his father secretly gave to me, for his use, a sum 
 equal to that which I and Guy Bolding brought into the com- 
 mon stock. Roland had raised the sum upon mortgage ; and, 
 while the interest was a trivial deduction from his income.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 compared to the former allowance, the capital was much more 
 useful to his son than a mere yearly payment could have been. 
 Thus, between us, we had a considerable sum for Australian 
 settlers ^4500. For the first two years we made nothing ; 
 indeed, great part of the first year was spent in learning our 
 art, at the station of an old settler. But, at the end of the 
 third year, our flocks having then become very considerable, 
 we cleared a return beyond my most sanguine expectations. 
 And when my cousin left, just in the sixth year of exile, our 
 shares amounted to ^4000 each, exclusive of the value of the 
 two stations. My cousin had, at first, wished that I should 
 forward his share to his father, but he soon saw that Roland 
 would never take it ; and it was finally agreed that it should 
 rest in my hands, for me to manage for him, send him out an 
 interest at five per cent., and devote the surplus profits to the 
 increase of his capital. 
 
 I had now, therefore, the control of ^12,000, and we might 
 consider ourselves very respectable capitalists. I kept on the 
 cattle station, by the aid of the Will-o'-the-Wisp, for about two 
 years after Vivian's departure (we had then had it altogether 
 for five). At the end of that time, I sold it and the stock to 
 great advantage. And the sheep for the " brand " of which 
 I had a high reputation having wonderfully prospered in the 
 mean while, I thought we might safely extend our speculations 
 into new ventures. Glad, too, of a change of scene, I left 
 Bolding in charge of the flocks, and bent my course to Ade- 
 laide, for the fame of that new settlement had already dis- 
 turbed the peace of the Bush. I found Uncle Jack residing 
 near Adelaide, in a very handsome villa, with all the signs and 
 appurtenances of colonial opulence ; and report perhaps did 
 not exaggerate the gains he had made so many strings to his 
 bow and each arrow, this time, seemed to have gone straight 
 to the white of the butts. I now thought I had acquired 
 knowledge and caution sufficient to avail myself of Uncle 
 Jack's ideas, without ruining myself by following them out in 
 his company ; and I saw a kind of retributive justice in making 
 his brain minister to the fortune which his ideality and con- 
 structiveness, according to Squills, had served so notably to 
 impoverish. I must here gratefully acknowledge that I owed 
 much to this irregular genius. The investigation of the sup- 
 posed mines had proved unsatisfactory to Mr. Bullion ; and 
 they were not fairly discovered till a few years after. But 
 Jack had convinced himself of their existence, and purchased, 
 on his own account, " for an old song," some barren land,
 
 424 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 which he was persuaded would prove to him a Golconda, one 
 day or other, under the euphonious title (which, indeed, it 
 ultimately established) of the " Tibbets' Wheal." The sus- 
 pension of the mines, however, fortunately suspended the exis- 
 tence of the Grog and Store Depot, and Uncle Jack was now 
 assisting in the foundation of Port Philip. Profiting by his 
 advice, I adventured in that new settlement some timid and 
 wary purchases, which I re-sold to considerable advantage. 
 Meanwhile, I must not omit to state briefly what, since my 
 departure from England, had been the ministerial career of 
 Trevanion. 
 
 That refining fastidiousness, that scrupulosity of political 
 conscience, which had characterized him as an independent 
 member, and often served, in the opinion both of friend and of 
 foe, to give the attribute of general impracticability to a mind 
 that, in all details, was so essentially and laboriously practical, 
 might perhaps have founded Trevanion's reputation as a min- 
 ister, if he could have been a minister without colleagues if, 
 standing alone, and from the necessary height, he could have 
 placed, clear and single, before the world, his exquisite honesty 
 of purpose, and the width of a statesmanship marvellously 
 accomplished and comprehensive. But Trevanion could not 
 amalgamate with others, nor subscribe to the discipline of a 
 cabinet in which he was not the chief, especially in a policy 
 which must have been thoroughly abhorrent to such a nature 
 a policy that of late years, has distinguished not one faction 
 alone, but has seemed so forced upon the more eminent polit- 
 ical leaders, on either side, that they who take the more char- 
 itable view of things may, perhaps, hold it to arise from the 
 necessity of the age, fostered by the temper of the public I 
 mean the policy of Expediency. Certainly not in this book will 
 I introduce the angry elements of party politics ; and how 
 should I know much about them ? All that I have to say is, 
 that, right or wrong, such a policy must have been at war, 
 every moment, with each principle of Trevanion's statesman- 
 ship, and fretted each fibre of his moral constitution. The 
 aristocratic combinations which his alliance with the Castleton 
 interest had brought to his aid, served perhaps to fortify his 
 position in the cabinet ; yet aristocratic combinations were of 
 small avail against what seemed the atmospherical epidemic of 
 the age. I could see how his situation had preyed on his 
 mind, when I read a paragraph in the newspapers, " that it 
 was reported, on good authority, that Mr. Trevanion had ten- 
 dered his resignation, but had been prevailed upon to withdraw
 
 THE CAXTONS. 425 
 
 it, as his retirement at that moment would break up the gov- 
 ernment." Some months afterwards came another paragraph, 
 to the effect, " that Mr. Trevanion was taken suddenly ill, and 
 that it was feared his illness was of a nature to preclude his 
 resuming his official labors." Then Parliament broke up. 
 Before it met again, Mr. Trevanion was gazetted as Earl of 
 Ulverstone, a title that had been once in his family, and had 
 left the administration, unable to encounter the fatigues of 
 office. To an ordinary man, the elevation to an earldom, pass- 
 ing over the lesser honors in the peerage, would have seemed 
 no mean close to a political career ; but I felt what profound 
 despair of striving against circumstance for utility what 
 entanglements with his colleagues, whom he could neither 
 conscientiously support, nor, according to his high, old-fash- 
 ioned notions of party honor and etiquette, energetically 
 oppose had driven him to abandon that stormy scene in which 
 his existence had been passed. The House of Lords, to that 
 active intellect, was as the retirement of some warrior of old 
 into the cloisters of a convent, The Gazette that chron- 
 icled the earldom of Ulverstone was the proclamation that 
 Albert Trevanion lived no more for the world of public 
 men. And, indeed, from that date his carear vanished out 
 of sight. Trevanion died the Earl of Ulverstone made 
 no sign. 
 
 I had hitherto written but twice to Lady Ellinor during my 
 exile once upon the marriage of Fanny with Lord Castleton, 
 which took place about six months after I sailed from 
 England, and again, when thanking her husband for some 
 rare animals, equine, pastoral, and bovine, which he had sent 
 as presents to Bolding and myself. I wrote again after Tre- 
 vanion's elevation to the peerage, and received, in due time, 
 a reply, confirming all my impressions, for it was full of bitter- 
 ness and gall, accusations of the world, fears for the country : 
 Richelieu himself could not have taken a gloomier view of 
 things, when his levees were deserted, and his power seemed 
 annihilated before the " Day of Dupes." Only one gleam of 
 comfort appeared to visit Lady Ulverstone's breast, and 
 thence to settle prospectively over the future of the world a 
 second son had been born to Lord Castleton ; to that son 
 would descend the estates of Ulverstone, and the representa- 
 tion of that line distinguished by Trevanion, and enriched by 
 Trevanion's wife. Never was there a child of such promise ! 
 Not Virgil himself, when he called on the Sicilian Muses to 
 celebrate the advent of a son to Pollio, ever sounded a loftier
 
 426 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 strain. Here was one, now, perchance, engaged on words of 
 two syllables, called : 
 
 " By laboring nature to sustain 
 The nodding frame oi heaven, and earth, and main, 
 See to their base restored, eaith, sea, and air, 
 And joyful ages from behind in crowding ranks appear ! " 
 
 Happy dream which Heaven sends to grandparents ! re- 
 baptism of Hope in the font whose drops sprinkle the grand- 
 child ! 
 
 Time flies on ; affairs continue to prosper. I am just leav- 
 ing the bank at Adelaide with a satisfred air, when I am 
 stopped in the street by bowing acquaintances, who never 
 shook me by the hand before. They shake me by the hand 
 now, and cry : " I wish you joy, sir. That brave fellow, your 
 namesake, is of course your near relation." 
 
 " What do you mean?" 
 
 " Have not you seen the papers ? Here they are." 
 
 "Gallant conduct of Ensign de Caxton promoted to a 
 lieutenancy on the field." I wipe my eyes, and cry: " Thank 
 Heaven it is my cousin ! " Then new hand-shakings, new 
 groups gather round. I feel taller by the head than I was 
 before ! We, grumbling English, always quarrelling with 
 each other the world not wide enough to hold us ; and yet, 
 when in the far land some bold deed is done by a countryman, 
 how we feel that we are brothers ! How our hearts warm to 
 each other ! What a letter I wrote home ! And how joy- 
 ously I went back to the Bush ! The Will-o'-the-Wisp has 
 attained to a cattle-station of his own. I go fifty miles out of 
 my way to tell him the news and give him the newspaper ; 
 for he knows now that his old master, Vivian, is a Cumber- 
 land man a Caxton. Poor Will-o'-the-Wisp ! The tea that 
 night tasted uncommonly like whisky-punch ! Father Mathew 
 forgive us, but if you had been a Cumberland man, and heard 
 the Will-o'-the-Wisp roaring out, " Blue bonnets over the 
 Border," I think your tea, too, would not have come out of 
 the caddy ! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A GREAT change has occurred in our household. Guy's 
 father is dead his latter years cheered by the accounts of his 
 son's steadiness and prosperity, and by the touching proofs 
 thereof which Guy has exhibited. For he insisted on repay- 
 ing to his father the old college debts, and the advance of the
 
 THE CAXTONS. 427 
 
 ^1500, begging that the money might go towards his sister's 
 portion. Now, after the old gentleman's death, the sister 
 resolved to come out and live with her dear brother Guy. 
 Another wing is built to the hut. Ambitious plans for a new 
 stone house, to be commenced the following year, are enter- 
 tained ; and Guy has brought back from Adelaide not only a 
 sister, but, to my utter astonishment, a wife, in the shape of a 
 fair friend by whom the sister is accompanied. 
 
 The young lady did quite right to come to Australia if she 
 wanted to be married. She was very pretty, and all the beaux 
 in Adelaide were round her in a moment. Guy was in love 
 the first day in a rage with thirty rivals the next in despair 
 the third put the question the fourth and before the fif- 
 teenth was a married man, hastening back with a treasure, of 
 which he fancied all the world was conspiring to rob him. 
 His sister was quite as pretty as her friend, and she, too, had 
 offers enough the moment she landed only she was romantic 
 and fastidious, and I fancy Guy told her that " I was just made 
 for her." 
 
 However, charming though she be with pretty blue eyes, 
 and her brother's frank smile I am not enchanted. I fancy 
 she lost all chance of my heart by stepping across the yard in 
 a pair of silk shoes. If I were to live in the Bush, give me a 
 wife as a companion who can ride well, leap over a ditch, walk 
 beside me when I go forth gun in hand, for a shot at the kan- 
 garoos. But I dare not go on with the list of a Bush husband's 
 requisites. This change, however, serves, for various reasons, 
 to quicken my desire of return. Ten years have now elapsed, 
 and I have already obtained a much larger fortune than I had 
 calculated to make. Sorely to Guy's honest grief, I therefore 
 wound up our affairs, and dissolved partnership ; for he had 
 decided to pass his life in the colony and with his pretty 
 wife, who has grown very fond of him, I don't wonder at it. 
 Guy takes my share of the station and stock off my hands ; 
 and, all accounts squared between us, I bid farewell to the 
 Bush. Despite all the motives that drew my heart homeward, 
 it was not without participation in the sorrow of my old com- 
 panions, that I took leave of those I might never see again on 
 this side the grave. The meanest man in my employ had 
 grown a friend ; and when those hard hands grasped mine, 
 and from many a breast that once had waged fierce war with 
 the world came the soft blessing to the Homeward-bound 
 with a tender thought for the Old England, that had been but 
 a harsh stepmother to them I felt a choking sensation, which
 
 428 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 I suspect is little known to the friendships of Mayfair and 
 St. James's. I was forced to get off with a few broken words, 
 when I had meant to part with a long speech : perhaps the 
 broken words pleased the audience better. Spurring away, I 
 gained a little eminence and looked back. There were the 
 poor faithful fellows gathered in a ring, watching me, their 
 hats off, their hands shading their eyes from the sun. And 
 Guy had thrown himself on the ground, and I heard his loud 
 sobs distinctly. His wife was leaning over his shoulder, trying 
 to soothe. Forgive him, fair helpmate, you will be all in the 
 world to him to-morrow ! and the blue-eyed sister, where was 
 she ? Had she no tears for the rough friend who laughed at the 
 silk shoes, and taught her how to hold the reins, and never fear 
 that the old pony would run away with her? What matter? 
 If the tears was shed they were hidden tears. No shame in 
 them, fair Ellen ! Since then, thou hast wept happy tears 
 over thy first-born those tears have long ago washed away 
 all bitterness in the innocent memories of a girl's first fancy. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DATED FROM ADELAIDE. 
 
 IMAGINE my wonder Uncle Jack has just been with me, 
 and but hear the dialogue : 
 
 UNCLE JACK. So you are positively going back to that 
 smoky, fusty, old England, just when you are on your high 
 road to a plumb. A plumb, sir, at least ! They all say there 
 is not a more rising young man in the colony. I think Bul- 
 lion would take you into partnership. What are you in such 
 a hurry for ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. To see my father and mother, and Uncle 
 Roland, and (was about to name some one else, but stops). 
 You see, my dear uncle, I came out solely with the idea of re- 
 pairing my father's losses, in that unfortunate speculation of 
 The Capitalist. 
 
 UNCLE JACK (coughs and ejaculates). That villain Peck ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. And to have a few thousands to invest in 
 poor Roland's acres. The object is achieved : why should I 
 stay? 
 
 UNCLE JACK. A few paltry thousands, when in twenty 
 years more, at the farthest, you would wallow in gold ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS. A man learns in the Bush how happy life can 
 be with plenty of employment and very little money. " I shall 
 practise that lesson in England,
 
 THE CAXTONS. 429 
 
 UNCLE JACK. Your mind's made up ? 
 
 PISISTRATUS. And my place in the ship taken. 
 
 UNCLE JACK. Then there's no more to be said. (Hums, 
 haws, and examines his nails filbert nails, not a speck on 
 them. Then suddenly, and jerking up his head) That Cap- 
 italist ! it has been on my conscience, nephew, ever since; 
 and, somehow or other, since I have abandoned the cause of 
 my fellow-creatures, I think I have cared more for my relations. 
 
 PISISTRATUS (smiling as he remembers his father's shrewd 
 predictions thereon). Naturally, my dear uncle: any child 
 who has thrown a stone into a pond knows that a circle disap- 
 pears as it widens. 
 
 UNCLE JACK. Very true I shall make a note of that, 
 applicable to my next speech, in defence of what they call the 
 " land monopoly." Thank you stone circle! (Jots down 
 notes in his pocket-book.) But. to return to the point : I am 
 well off now I have neither wife nor child ; and I feel that I 
 ought to bear my share in your father's loss : it was our joint 
 speculation. And your father, good dear Austin ! paid my 
 debts into the bargain. And how cheering the punch was that 
 night, when your mother wanted to scold poor Jack ! And 
 the ^300 Austin lent me when I left him : nephew, that was 
 the remaking of me the acorn of the oak I have planted. So 
 here they are (added Uncle Jack, with a heroical effort and 
 he extracted from the pocket book bills for a sum between 
 three and four thousand pounds). There, it is done ; and I 
 shall sleep better for it ! (With that Uncle Jack got up, and 
 bolted out of the room.) 
 
 Ought I to take the money ? Why, I think yes ! it is but 
 fair. Jack must be really rich, and can well spare the money ; 
 besides, if he wants it again, I know my father will let him 
 have it. And, indeed, Jack caused the loss of the whole sum 
 lost on The Capitalist, etc., and this is not quite the half of 
 what my father paid away. But is it not fine in Uncle Jack ! 
 Well, my father was quite right in his milder estimate of 
 Jack's scalene conformation, and it is hard to judge of a man 
 when he is needy and down in the world. When one grafts 
 one's ideas on one's neighbor's money, they are certainly not 
 so grand as when they spring from one's own. 
 
 UNCLE JACK (popping his head into the room). And, you 
 see, you can double that money if you will just leave it in my 
 hands for a couple of years you have no notion what I shall 
 make of the Tibbets' Wheal ! Did I tell you ? the German was 
 quite right ; I have been offered already seven times the sura
 
 43O THE CAXTONS. 
 
 which I gave for the land. But I am now looking out for a 
 Company : let me put you down for shares to the amount at 
 least of those trumpery bills. Cent per cent I guarantee cent 
 per cent ! (And Uncle Jack stretches out those famous 
 smooth hands of his, with a tremulous motion of the ten elo- 
 quent fingers.) 
 
 PISISTRATUS. Ah ! my dear uncle, if you repent 
 
 UNCLE JACK. Repent ! when I offer you cent percent, on 
 my personal guarantee ! 
 
 PISISTRATUS (carefully putting the bills into his breast coat 
 pocket), Then, if you don't repent, my dear uncle, allow me 
 to shake you by the hand, and say that I will not consent to 
 lessen my esteem and admiration for the high principle which 
 prompts this restitution, by confounding it with trading asso- 
 ciations of loans, interests, and copper mines. And, you see, 
 since this sum is paid to my father, I have no right to invest it 
 without his permission. 
 
 UNCLE JACK (with emotion). "Esteem, admiration, high 
 principle ! " these are pleasant words, from you, nephew. 
 (Then, shaking his head, and smiling) You sly dog ! you are 
 quite right : get the bills cashed at once. And hark ye, sir, 
 just keep out of my way, will you ? And don't let me coax 
 from you a farthing. (Uncle Jack slams the door and rushes 
 out. Pisistratus draws the bills warily from his pocket, half- 
 suspecting they must already have turned into withered leaves, 
 like fairy money ; slowly convinces himself that the bills are 
 good bills ; and, by lively gestures, testifies his delight and 
 astonishment). Scene changes. 
 
 PART EIGHTEENTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ADIEU, thou beautiful land ! Canaan of the exiles, and 
 Ararat to many a shattered Ark ! Fair cradle of a race for 
 whom the unbounded heritage of a future, that no sage can 
 conjecture, no prophet divine, lies afar in the golden promise- 
 light of Time ! destined, perchance, from the sins and sorrows 
 of a civilization struggling with its own elements of decay, to 
 renew the youth of the' world, and transmit the great soul of
 
 THK CAXTONS. 431 
 
 England through the cycle.s of Infinite Change. All climates 
 that can best ripen the products of earth, or form into various 
 character and temper the different families of man, "rain in- 
 fluences" from the heaven, that smiles so benignly on those 
 who had once shrunk, ragged, from the wind, or scowled on 
 the thankless sun. Here, the hardy air of the chill Mother 
 Isle, there the mild warmth of Italian autumns, or the breath- 
 less glow of the tropics. And with the beams of every climate, 
 glides subtle HOPE. Of her there, it may be said, as of Light 
 itself, in those exquisite lines of a neglected poet : 
 
 " Through the soft ways of heaven, and air, and sea, 
 Which open all their pores to thee ; 
 Like a clear river thou dost glide 
 
 All the world's bravery that delights our eyes, 
 
 Is but thy several liveries ; 
 
 Thou the rich dye on them bestowest ; 
 
 Thy nimble pencil paints the landscape as thou goest."* 
 
 Adieu, my kind nurse and sweet foster-mother ! a long and a 
 last adieu ! Never had I left thee but for that louder voice of 
 Nature which calls the child to the parent, and woos us from 
 the labors we love the best by the chime in the Sabbath-bells 
 of Home. 
 
 No one can tell how dear the memory of that wild Bush life 
 becomes to him who has tried it with a fitting spirit. How 
 often it haunts him in the commonplace of more civilized 
 scenes ! Its dangers, its risks, its sense of animal health, its 
 bursts of adventure, its intervals of careless repose : the fierce 
 gallop through a very sea of wide rolling plains ; the still 
 saunter, at night, through woods never changing their leaves ; 
 with the moon, clear as sunshine, stealing slant through their 
 clusters of flowers. With what an effort we reconcile our- 
 selves to the trite cares and vexed pleasures, "the quotidian 
 ague of frigid impertinences," to which we return ! How 
 strong and black stands my pencil-mark in this passage of the 
 poet from whom I have just quoted before ! 
 
 " We are here among the vast and noble scenes of Nature 
 we are there among the pitiful shifts of policy ; we walk 
 here, in the light and open ways of the Divine Bounty we 
 grope there, in the dark and confused labyrinth of human 
 malice." f 
 
 * Cowley's Ode to Light, 
 
 t Cowley on Town and Country. (Discourse on Agriculture.)
 
 432 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 But I weary you, reader. The New World vanishes now 
 a line now a speck ; let us turn away, with the face to the 
 Old. 
 
 Amongst my fellow-passengers, how many there are return- 
 ing home disgusted, disappointed, impoverished, ruined, throw- 
 ing themselves again on those unsuspecting poor friends, who 
 thought they had done with the luckless good-for-naughts 
 forever. For don't let me deceive thee, reader, into suppos- 
 ing that every adventurer to Australia has the luck of Pisi- 
 stratus. Indeed, though the poor laborer, and especially the 
 poor operative from London and the great trading towns (who 
 has generally more of the quick knack of learning the adapt- 
 able faculty required in a new colony, than the simple agri- 
 cultural laborer), are pretty sure to succeed, the class to which 
 I belong is one in which failures are numerous, and success 
 the exception I mean young men with scholastic education 
 and the habits of gentlemen : with small capital and sanguine 
 hopes. But this, in ninety-nine times out of a hundred, is not 
 the fault of the colony, but of the emigrants. It requires, not 
 so much intellect as a peculiar turn of intellect, and a fortu- 
 nate combination of physical qualities, easy temper, and quick 
 mother-wit, to make a small capitalist a prosperous Bushman.* 
 And if you could see the sharks that swim round a man just 
 dropped at Adelaide or Sydney, with one or two thousand 
 pounds in his pocket ! Hurry out of the towns as fast as you 
 can, my young emigrant ; turn a deaf ear, for the present at 
 least, to all jobbers and speculators ; make friends with some 
 practised old Bushman ; spend several months at his station 
 before you hazard your capital ; take with you a temper to 
 bear everything and sigh for nothing ; put your whole heart 
 in what you are about ; never call upon Hercules when your 
 cart sticks in the rut, and, whether you feed sheep or breed 
 cattle, your success is but a question of time. 
 
 But, whatever I owed to nature, I owed also something to 
 fortune. I bought my sheep at little more than 78. each. 
 When I left, none were worth less than 155., and the fat sheep 
 
 * How true are the following remarks : 
 
 " Action is the first great requisite of a colonist (that is, a pastoral or agricultural settler). 
 With a young man, the tone of his mind is more important than his previous pursuits. I 
 have known men of an active, energetic, contented disposition, with a good flow of animal 
 spirits, who had been bred in luxury and refinement, succeed better than men bred as far- 
 mers, who were always hankering after bread and beer, and market ordinaries of Old En- 
 gland. . . . To be dreaming when you should be looking after your cattle is a terrible 
 drawback. . . . There are certain persons who, too lazy and too extravagant to succeed 
 in Europej sail for Australia under the idea that fortunes are to be made there by a sort of 
 legerdemain, spend or lose their capital in a very short space of time, and return to England 
 to abuse the place, the people, and everything connected with colonization." " Sidney's 
 Australian Handbook " admirable for its wisdom and compactness.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 433 
 
 were worth i.* I had an excellent shepherd, and my whole 
 care, night and day, was the improvement of the flock. I was 
 fortunate, too, in entering Australia before the system mis- 
 called " The Wakefield "f had diminished the supply of labor, 
 and raised the price of land. When the change came (like 
 most of those with large allotments and surplus capital), it 
 greatly increased the value of my own property, though at the 
 cost of a terrible blow on the general interests of the colony. 
 I was lucky, too, in the additional venture of a cattle-station, 
 and in the breed of horses and herds, which, in the five years 
 devoted to that branch establishment, trebled the sum invested 
 therein, exclusive of the advantageous sale of the station. J I 
 was lucky, also, as I have stated, in the purchase and re-sale 
 of lands, at Uncle Jack's recommendation. And, lastly, I left 
 in time, and escaped a very disastrous crisis in colonial affairs, 
 which I take the liberty of attributing entirely to the mischiev- 
 ous crochets of theorists at home, who want to set all clocks 
 by Greenwich time, forgetting that it is morning in one part 
 of the world at the time they are tolling the curfew in the other. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LONDON once more ! How strange, lone, and savage I feel 
 in the streets ! I am ashamed to have so much health and 
 strength, when I look at those slim forms, stooping backs 
 
 * Lest this seem an exaggeration, I venture to annex an extract from a MS. letter to the 
 author from Mr. George Blakeston Wilkinson, author of " South Australia ": 
 
 " I will instance the case of one person, who had been a farmer in England, and emi- 
 grated with about ^2000 about seven years since. On his arrival, he found that the prices 
 of sheep had fallen from about 305. to 5*. or 6s. per head, and he bought some well-bred 
 flocks at these prices. He was fortunate in obtaining a good and extensive run, and he 
 devoted the whole of his time to improving his flocks, and encouraged his shepherds by 
 rewards ; so that, in about four years, his original number of sheep had increased from 2500 
 (which cost him 700) to 7000 ; and the breed and wool were also so much improved, that 
 he could oblain i per head for 2000 fat sheep, and 155. per head for the other 5000, and this 
 at a time when the general price of sheep was from jos. to i6s. This alone increased his 
 original capital, invested in sheep, from 700 to 5700. The profits from the wool paid the 
 whole of his expenses and wnges for his men." 
 
 t I felt sure from the first, that the system called ' The Wakefield " could never fairly 
 represent the ideas of Mr. Wakefield himself, whose singular breadth of understanding, 
 and various knowledge of mankind, belied the notion that fathered on him the clumsy 
 execution of a theory wholly inapplicable to a social state like Australia. I am glad to see 
 that he has vindicated himself from the discreditable paternity. But I grieve to find that 
 he still clings to one cardinal error of the system, in the discouragement of small holdings, 
 and that he evades, more ingeniously than ingenuously, the important question : " What 
 should be the minimum price of land ? " 
 
 t " The profits of cattle-farming are smaller than those of the sheep-owner (if the latter 
 have good luck, for much depends upon that), but cattle-farming is much more safe as a 
 speculation, and less care, knowledge, and management are required. .2000, laid out on 
 700 head of cattle, if good runs be procured, might increase the capital in five years from 
 ^2000 to .6000, besides enabling the owner to maintain himself, pay wages, etc." MS- 
 letter from G. B. Wilkinson.
 
 434 THE CANTONS. 
 
 and pale faces. I pick my way through the crowd with the 
 merciful timidity of a good-natured giant. I am afraid of 
 jostling against a man, for fear the collision should kill him. 
 I get out of the way of a thread-paper clerk, and 'tis a wonder 
 I am not run over by the omnibuses I feel as if I could run 
 over them ! I perceive, too, that there is something out- 
 landish, peregrinate, and lawless about me. Beau Brummell 
 would certainly have denied me all pretension to the simple air 
 of a gentleman, for every third passenger turns back to look 
 at me. I retreat to my hotel send for boot-maker, hatter, 
 tailor, and hair-cutter. I humanize myself from head to foot. 
 Even Ulysses is obliged to have recourse to the arts of Mi- 
 nerva, and, to speak unmetaphorically, "smarten himself up," 
 before the faithful Penelope condescends to acknowledge him. 
 
 The artificers promise all despatch. Meanwhile, I hasten 
 to re-make acquaintance with my mother country over files of 
 the Times, Post, Chronicle, and Herald. Nothing comes amiss 
 to me, but articles on Australia ; from those I turn aside with 
 the true pshaw-supercilious of your practical man. 
 
 No more are leaders filled with praise and blame of 
 Trevanion. " Percy's spur is cold." Lord Ulverstone figures 
 only in the Court Circular, or " Fashionable Movements." 
 Lord Ulverstone entertains a royal duke at dinner, or dines in 
 turn with a royal duke, or has come to town, or gone out of it. 
 At most (faint Platonic reminiscence of the former life), Lord 
 Ulverstone says in the House of Lords a few words on some 
 question, not a party one ; and on which (though affecting 
 perhaps the interests of some few thousands, or millions, as 
 the case maybe) men speak without " hears," and are inaudible 
 in the gallery ; or Lord Ulverstone takes the chair at an agri- 
 cultural meeting, or returns thanks when his health is drunk 
 at a dinner at Guildhall. But the daughter rises as the father 
 sets, though over a very different kind of world. 
 
 " First ball of the season at Castleton House ! " Long 
 description of the rooms and the company ; above all, of the 
 hostess. Lines on the Marchioness of Castleton's picture in 
 the " Book of Beauty," by the Hon. Fitzroy Fiddledum, begin- 
 ning with " Art thou an angel from," etc. a paragraph that 
 pleased me more, on " Lady Castleton's Infant School at Raby 
 Park"; then again: "Lady Castleton, the new patroness at 
 Almack's "; a criticism more rapturous than ever gladdened 
 living poet, on Lady Castleton's superb diamond stomacher, 
 just reset by Storr and Mortimer ; Westmacott's bust of Lady 
 Castleton ; Landseer's picture of Lady Castleton and her chil-
 
 THE CAXTON3. 435 
 
 dren, in the costume of the olden time. Not a month in that 
 long file of the Morning Post but what Lady Castleton shone 
 forth from the rest of womankind 
 
 " Velut inter ignes 
 Luna minores." 
 
 The blood mounted to my cheek. Was it to this splendid 
 constellation in the patrician heaven that my obscure, portion- 
 less youth had dared to lift its presumptuous eyes ? But what 
 is this ? " Indian Intelligence Skilful retreat of the Sepoys 
 under Captain de Caxton !" A captain already what is the 
 date of the newspaper ? three months ago. The leading 
 article quotes the name with high praise. Is there no leaven 
 of envy amidst the joy at my heart ? How obscure has been 
 my career how laurelless my poor battle with adverse for- 
 tune ! Fie, Pisistratus ! I am ashamed of thee. Has this 
 accursed Old World, with its feverish rivalries, diseased thee 
 already ? Get thee home, quick, to the arms of thy mother, 
 the embrace of thy father hear Roland's low blessing, that 
 thou hast helped to minister to the very fame of that son. If 
 thou wilt have ambition, take it, not soiled and foul with the 
 mire of London. Let it spring fresh and hardy in the calm air 
 of wisdom ; and fed, as with dews, by the loving charities of 
 Home. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IT was at sunset that I stole through the ruined courtyard, 
 having left my chaise at the foot of the hill below. Though 
 they whom I came to seek knew that I had arrived in England, 
 they did not, from my letter, expect me till the next day. I 
 had stolen a march upon them ; and now, in spite of all the 
 impatience which had urged me thither, I was afraid to 
 enter afraid to see the change more than ten years had 
 made in those forms, for which, in my memory, Time had 
 stood still. And Roland had, even when we parted, 
 grown old before his time. Then, my father was in the 
 meridian of life, now he had approached to the decline. 
 And my mother, whom I remembered so fair, as if the fresh- 
 ness of her own heart had preserved the soft bloom to the 
 cheek I could not bear to think that she was no longer young. 
 Blanche, too, whom I had left a child Blanche, my constant 
 correspondent during those long years of exile, in letters crossed 
 and re-crossed, with all the small details that make the elo-
 
 43^ THE CAXTONS. 
 
 quence of letter-writing, so that in those epistles I had seen her 
 mind gradually grow up in harmony with the very characters ; 
 at first vague and infantine, then somewhat stiff with the first 
 graces of running hand, then dashing off, free and facile ; and, 
 for the last year before I left, so formed, yet so airy so regu- 
 lar, yet so unconscious of effort though, in truth, as the cali- 
 graphy had become thus matured, I had been half vexed and 
 half pleased to perceive a certain reserve creeping over the 
 style wishes for my return less expressed from herself than 
 as messages from others ; words of the old child-like familia- 
 rity repressed ; and " Dearest Sisty " abandoned for the cold 
 form of " Dear Cousin." Those letters, coming to me in a 
 spot where maiden and love had been as myths of the by-gone, 
 phantasms and eidola, only vouchsafed to the visions of fancy, 
 had, by little and little, crept into secret corners of my heart ; 
 and out of the wrecks of a former romance, solitude and 
 revery had gone far to build up the fairy domes of a romance 
 yet to come. My mother's letters had never omitted to make 
 mention of Blanche ; of her forethought and tender activity ; 
 of her warm heart and sweet temper ; and, in many a little 
 home picture, presented her image where I would fain have 
 placed it, not " crystal seeing," but joining my mother in chari- 
 table visits to the village, instructing the young, and tending 
 on the old, or teaching herself to illuminate, from an old mis- 
 sal in my father's collection, that she might surprise my uncle 
 with a new genealogical table, with all shields and quarterings, 
 blazoned or, sable, and argent ; or flitting round my father 
 where he sat, and watching when he looked round for some 
 book he was too lazy to rise for. Blanche had made a new 
 catalogue, and got it by heart, and knew at once from what 
 corner of the Heraclea to summon the ghost. On all these 
 little traits had my mother been eulogistically minute ; but 
 somehow or other she had never said, at least for the last two 
 years, whether Blanche was pretty or plain. That was a sad 
 omission. I had longed just to ask that simple question, or to 
 imply it delicately and diplomatically ; but, I know not why, I 
 never dared for Blanche would have been sure to have read 
 the letter, and what business was it of mine? And if she was 
 ugly, what question more awkward both to put and to answer ? 
 Now, in childhood, Blanche had just one of those faces that 
 might become very lovely in youth, and would yet quite justify 
 the suspicion that it might become gryphonesque, witch like, 
 and grim. Yes, Blanche, it is perfectly true ! If those large, 
 serious black eyes took a fierce light, instead of a tender ; if
 
 THE CAXTONS. 437 
 
 that nose, which seemed then undecided whether to be straight 
 or to be aquiline, arched off in the latter direction, and 
 assumed the martial, Roman, and imperative character of 
 Roland's manly proboscis ; if that face, in childhood too thin, 
 left the blushes of youth to take refuge on two salient peaks 
 by the temples (Cumberland air, too, is famous for the growth 
 of the cheekbone !) if all that should happen, and it very well 
 might, then, O Blanche, I wish thou hadst never written me 
 those letters ; and I might have done wiser things than steel 
 my heart so obdurately to pretty Ellen Bolding's blue eyes 
 and silk shoes. Now, combining together all these doubts 
 and apprehensions, wonder not, O reader, why I stole so 
 stealthily through the ruined court-yard, crept round to the 
 other side of the Tower, gazed wistfully on the stm setting 
 slant, on the high casements of the hall (too high, alas ! to 
 look within), and shrunk yet to enter ; doing battle, as it 
 were, with my heart. 
 
 Steps ! One's sense of hearing grows so quick in the Bush- 
 land ! steps, though as light as ever brushed the dew from the 
 harebell ! I crept under the shadow of the huge buttress 
 mantled with ivy. A form comes from the little door at an 
 angle in the ruins a woman's form. Is it my mother ? It is 
 too tall, and the step is more bounding. It winds round the 
 building, it turns to look back, and a sweet voice a voice 
 strange, yet familiar, calls, tender but chiding, to a truant that 
 lags behind. Poor Juba ! he is trailing his long ears on the 
 ground ; he is evidently much disturbed in his mind ; now he 
 stands still, his nose in the air. Poor Juba ! I left thee so 
 slim and so nimble : 
 
 " Thy form, that was fashioned as light as a fay's, 
 Has assumed a proportion more round "; 
 
 years have sobered thee strangely, and made thee obese and 
 Primmins-like. They have taken too good care of thy creat- 
 ure comforts, O sensual Mauritanian ! Still, in that mystic 
 intelligence we call instinct, thou art chasing something that 
 years have not swept from thy memory. Thou art deaf to 
 thy lady's voice, however tender and chiding. That's right, 
 come near nearer my Cousin Blanche ; let me have a fair 
 look at thee. Plague take the dog ! he flies off from her : he 
 has found the scent, he is making up to the buttress ! Now 
 pounce he is caught ! whining ungallant discontent. Shall 
 I not yet see the face! it is buried in Juba's black curls. 
 Kisses too ! Wicked Blanche ! to waste on a dumb animal
 
 43^ THE CAXTONS. 
 
 what, I heartily hope, many a good Christian would be 
 exceedingly glad of ! Juba struggles in vain, and is borne off ! 
 I don't think that those eyes can have taken the fierce turn, 
 and Roland's eagle nose can never go with that voice, which 
 has the coo of the dove. 
 
 I leave my hiding-place, and steal after the Voice, and its 
 owner. Where can she be going ? Not far. She springs up 
 the hill whereon the lords of the castle once administered jus- 
 tice that hill which commands the land far and wide, and 
 from which can be last caught the glimpse of the westering 
 sun. How gracefully still is that attitude of wistful repose ! 
 Into what delicate curves do form and drapery harmoniously 
 flow ! How softly distinct stands the lithe image against the 
 purple hues of the sky ! Then again comes the sweet voice, 
 gay and carolling as a bird's now in snatches of song, now 
 in playful appeals to that dull, four-footed friend. She is 
 telling him something that must make the black ears stand on 
 end, for I just catch the words : " He is coming," and " home." 
 
 I cannot see the sun set where I lurk in my ambush, amidst 
 the brake and the ruins; but I feel that the orb has passed 
 from the landscape, in the fresher air of the twilight, in the 
 deeper silence of eve. Lo ! Hesper comes forth ; at his signal, 
 star after star, come the hosts : 
 
 " Ch'eran con lui, quando 1'amor divino, 
 Mosse da prima quelle cose belle ! " 
 
 And the sweet voice is hushed. 
 
 Then slowly the watcher descends the hill on the opposite 
 side the form escapes from my view. What charm has gone 
 from the twilight ? See, again, where the step steals through 
 the ruins and along the desolate court. Ah ! deep and true 
 heart, do I divine the remembrance that leads thee? I pass 
 through the wicket, down the dell, skirt the laurels, and behold 
 the face, looking up to the stars the face which had nestled 
 to my breast in the sorrow of parting years, long years ago : 
 on the grave where we had sat, I the boy, thou the infant 
 there, O Blanche ! is thy fair face (fairer than the fondest 
 dream that had gladdened my exile) vouchsafed to my gaze ! 
 
 " Blanche, my cousin ! again, again soul with soul, amidst 
 the dead ! Look up, Blanche ; it is I." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "Go in first and prepare them, dear Blanche ; I will wait 
 by the door. Leave it ajar, that I may see them."
 
 THE CAXTONS. 439 
 
 Roland is leaning against the wall old armor suspended 
 over the gray head of the soldier. It is but a glance that I 
 give to the dark cheek and high brow ; no change there for 
 the worse no new sign of decay. Rather, if anything, Roland 
 seems younger than when I left. Calm is the brow no shame 
 on it now, Roland ; and the lips, once so compressed, smile 
 with ease no struggle now, Roland, "not to complain." A 
 glance shows me all this. 
 
 " Papse ! " says my father, and I hear the fall of a book, " I 
 can't read a line. He is coming to-morrow ! to-morrow ! If 
 we lived to the age of Methuselah, Kitty, we could never 
 reconcile philosophy and man ; that is, if the poor man's to be 
 plagued with a good, affectionate son ! " 
 
 And my father gets up and walks to and fro. One minute 
 more, father one minute more and I am on thy breast ! 
 Time, too, has dealt gently with thee, as he doth with those 
 for whom the wild passions and keen cares of the world never 
 sharpen his scythe. The broad front looks more broad, for 
 the locks are more scanty and thin ; but still not a furrow. 
 
 Whence comes that short sigh ! 
 
 " What is really the time, Blanche ? Did you look at the 
 turret clock ? Well, just go and look again." 
 
 " Kitty," quoth my father, " you have not only asked what 
 time it is thrice within the last ten minutes, but you have got 
 my watch, and Roland's great chronometer, and the Dutch 
 clock out of the kitchen, all before you, and they all concur in 
 the same tale to-day is not to-morrow." 
 
 " They are all wrong, I know," said my mother, with mild 
 firmness ; "and they've never gone right since he left." 
 
 Now out comes a letter for I hear the rustle and then a 
 step glides towards the lamp ; and the dear, gentle, womanly 
 face fair still, fair ever for me fair as when it bent over my 
 pillow, in childhood's first sickness, or when we threw flowers 
 at each other on the lawn, at sunny noon ! And now Blanche 
 is whispering ; and now the flutter, the start, the cry : " It is 
 true ! it is true ! Your arms, mother. Close, close round my 
 neck, as in the old time. Father ! Roland, too ! Oh, joy ! 
 joy ! joy ! home again home till death ! " 
 
 CHAPTER. V. 
 
 FROM a dream of the Bushland, howling dingoes,* and the 
 war-whoop of the wild men, I wake and see the sun shining in 
 
 * Dingoes \\M name given by Australian natives to the wild dogs.
 
 44 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 through the jasmine that Blanche herself has had trained 
 round the window old school-books, neatly ranged round 
 the wall, fishing-rods, cricket-bats, foils, and the old-fashioned 
 gun and my mother seated by the bedside and Juba whin- 
 ing and scratching to get up. Had I taken thy murmured 
 blessing, my mother, for the whoop of the blacks, and Juba's 
 low whine for the howl of the dingoes ? 
 
 Then what days of calm, exquisite delight ! the interchange 
 of heart with heart ; what walks with Roland, and tales of him 
 once our shame, now our pride ; and the art with which the 
 old man would lead those walks round by the village, that 
 some favorite gossips might stop and ask : " What news of his 
 brave young honor ? " 
 
 I strive to engage my uncle in my projects for the repair of 
 the ruins, for the culture of those wide bogs and moorlands: 
 why is it that he turns away and looks down embarrassed ? 
 Ah, I guess ! his true heir now is restored to him. He 
 cannot consent that I should invest this dross, for which (the 
 Great Book once published) I have no other use, in the house 
 and the lands that will pass to his son. Neither would he 
 suffer me so to invest even his son's fortune, the bulk of which 
 I still hold in trust for that son. True, in his career, my cousin 
 may require to have his money always forthcoming. But / 
 who have no career pooh ! these scruples will rob me of 
 half the pleasure my years of toil were to purchase. I must 
 contrive it somehow or other : what if he would let me house 
 and moorland on a long improving lease ? Then, for the rest, 
 there is a pretty little property to be sold close by, on which I 
 can retire, when my cousin, as heir of the family, comes, per- 
 haps with a wife, to reside at the Tower. I must consider of 
 all this, and talk it over with Bolt, when my mind is at leisure 
 from happiness to turn to such matters ; meanwhile I fall back 
 on my favorite proverb : " Where there's a will there's a way." 
 
 What smiles and tears, and laughter, and careless prattle 
 with my mother, and roundabout questions from her, to know 
 if I had never lost my heart in the Bush ? And evasive 
 answers from me, to punish her for not letting out that Blanche 
 was so charming. " I fancied Blanche had grown the image 
 of her father, who has a fine martial head certainly, but not 
 seen to advantage in petticoats ! How could you be so silent 
 with a theme so attractive ? " 
 
 *' Blanche made me promise." 
 
 Why, I wonder. Therewith I fell musing. 
 
 What quiet, delicious hours are spent with my father in his
 
 THE CAXTONS. 441 
 
 study, or by the pond, where he still feeds the carps, that have 
 grown into Cyprinidian leviathans. The duck, alas ! has 
 departed this life the only victim that the Grim King has 
 carried off ; so I mourn, but am resigned to that lenient com- 
 position of the great tribute to Nature. I am sorry to say the 
 Great Book has advanced but slowly by no means yet fit for 
 publication, for it is resolved that it shall not come out as first 
 proposed, a part at a time, but totus, feres, atque rotundus. The 
 matter has spread beyond its original compass ; no less than 
 five volumes and those of the amplest will contain the 
 History of Human Error. However, we are far in the fourth, 
 and one must not hurry Minerva. 
 
 My father is enchanted with Uncle Jack's " noble conduct," 
 as he calls it ; but he scolds me for taking the money, and 
 doubts as to the propriety of returning it. In these matters 
 my father is quite as Quixotical as Roland. I am forced to 
 call in my mother as umpire between us, and she settles the 
 matter at once by an appeal to feeling. " Ah Austin ! do you 
 not humble me, if you are too proud to accept what is due to 
 you from my brother ! " 
 
 " Velit, no/it, quod arnica" answered my father, taking off and 
 rubbing his spectacles " which means, Kitty, that when a 
 man's married he has no will of his own. To think," added Mr. 
 Caxton musingly, "that in this world one cannot be sure of 
 the simplest mathematical definition ! You see, Pisistratus, 
 that the angles of a triangle so decidedly scalene as your 
 Uncle Jack's, may be equal to the angles of a right-angled 
 triangle after all ! " * 
 
 The long privation of books has quite restored all my appe- 
 tite for them. How much I have to pick up ! What a com- 
 pendious scheme of reading I and my father chalk out ! I see 
 enough to fill up all the leisure of life. But, somehow or 
 other, Greek and Latin stand still : nothing charms me like 
 Italian. Blanche and I are reading Metastasio, to the great 
 indignation of my father, who calls it " rubbish," and wants to 
 substitute Dante. I have no associations at present with the 
 souls 
 
 " Che son content! 
 Nel fuoco"; 
 
 I am already one of the " beate gente." Yet, in spite of Meta- 
 
 * Not having again to advert to Uncle Jack, I may be pardoned for informing the reader 
 by way of annotation, that he continues to prosper surprisingly in Australia, though the 
 Tibbets' Wheal stands still for want of workmen. Despite of a few ups and downs, I have 
 had no fear of his success until this year (1849), when I tremble to think what effect the 
 discovery of the gold mines in California may have on his lively imagination. If thou es* 
 capest that snare, Uncle Jack, res age, tutus en's, thou art safe for life.
 
 442 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 stasio, Blanche and I are not so intimate as cousins ought to 
 be. If we are by accident alone, I become as silent as a 
 Turk, as formal as Sir Charles Grandison. I caught myself 
 calling her Miss Blanche the other day. 
 
 I must not forget thee, honest Squills ! nor thy delight at 
 my health and success ; nor thy exclamation of pride (one 
 hand on my pulse and the other griping hard the " ball " of my 
 arm) : " It all comes of my citrate of iron ; nothing like it for 
 children ; it has an effect on the cerebral developments of 
 hope and combativeness." Nor can I wholly omit mention of 
 poor Mrs. Primmins, who still calls me " Master Sisty," and is 
 breaking her heart that I will not wear the new flannel waist- 
 coats she had such pleasure in making : " Young gentlemen just 
 growing up are so apt to go off in a galloping 'sumption ! " 
 " She knew just such another as Master Sisty, when she lived 
 at Torquay, who wasted away, and went out like a snuff, all 
 because he would not wear flannel waistcoats." Therewith 
 my mother looks grave, and says : " One can't take too much 
 precaution." 
 
 Suddenly the whole neighborhood is thrown into commo- 
 tion. Trevanion I beg his pardon, Lord Ulverstone is 
 coming to settle for good at Compton. Fifty hands are em- 
 ployed daily in putting the grounds into hasty order. Four- 
 gons, and wagons, and vans have disgorged all the necessaries 
 a great man requires, where he means to eat, drink, and 
 sleep ; books, wines, pictures, furniture. I recognize my old 
 patron still. He is in earnest, whatever he does. I meet my 
 friend, his steward, who tells me that Lord Ulverstone finds 
 his favorite seat, near London, too exposed to interruption ; 
 and moreover, that, as he has there completed all improve- 
 ments that wealth and energy can effect, he has less occupa- 
 tion for agricultural pursuits, to which he has grown more and 
 more partial, than on the wide and princely domain which has 
 hitherto wanted the master's eye. " He is a bra' farmer, I 
 know," quoth the steward, " so far as the theory goes ; but I 
 don't think we in the north want great lords to teach us how 
 to follow the pleugh." The steward's sense of dignity is hurt ; 
 but he is an honest fellow, and really glad to see the family 
 come to settle in the old place. 
 
 They have arrived, and with them the Castletons, and a 
 whole posse comitatus of guests. The county paper is full of 
 fine names. 
 
 " What on earth did Lord Ulverstone mean by pretending 
 to get out of the way of troublesome visitors ? "
 
 THE CAXTONS. 443 
 
 " My dear Pisistratus," answered my father to that exclama- 
 tion, " it is not the visitors who come, but the visitors who stay 
 away, that most trouble the repose of a retired minister. In 
 all the procession, he sees but the images of Brutus and Cas- 
 sius that are not there ! And depend on it, also, a retirement 
 so near London did not make noise enough. You see, a re- 
 tiring statesman is like that fine carp the farther he leaps 
 from the water, the greater splash he makes in falling into the 
 weeds ! But," added Mr. Caxton, in a repentant tone, "this 
 jesting does not become us ; and, if I indulged it, it is only 
 because I am heartily glad that Trevanion is likely now to find 
 out his true vocation. And as soon as the fine people he 
 brings with him have left him alone in his library, I trust he 
 will settle to that vocation, and be happier than he has been 
 yet." 
 
 " And that vocation, sir, is ? " 
 
 " Metaphysics ! " said my father. " He will be quite at 
 home in puzzling over Berkeley, and considering whether the 
 Speaker's chair, and the official red boxes, were really things 
 whose ideas of figure, extension, and hardness, were all in the 
 mind. It will be a great consolation to him to agree with 
 Berkeley, and to find that he has only been baffled by imma- 
 terial phantasma ! " 
 
 My father was quite right. The repining, subtle, truth- 
 weighing Trevanion, plagued by his conscience into seeing all 
 sides of a question (for the least question has more than two 
 sides, and is hexagonal at least), was much more fitted to dis- 
 cover the origin of ideas than to convince Cabinets and Na- 
 tions that two and two make four a proposition on which he 
 himself would have agreed with Abraham Tucker, where that 
 most ingenious and suggestive of all English metaphysicians 
 observes: " Well, persuaded as I am that two and two make four, 
 if I were to meet with a person of credit, candor, and under- 
 standing, who should sincerely call it in question, I would give 
 him a hearing ; for I am not more certain of that than of the 
 whole being greater than a part. And yet I could myself suggest 
 some considerations that might seem to controvert this point. " * I ca n 
 so well imagine Trevanion listening to " some person of credit, 
 candor, and understanding," in disproof of that vulgar 
 proposition that twice two make four ! But the news of 
 this arrival, including that of Lady Castleton, disturbed me 
 
 * " Light of Nature " chapter on Judgment. See the very ingenious illustration of 
 doubt, " whether the part is always greater than the whole " taken from time, or rather 
 eternity.
 
 444 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 greatly, and I took to long wanderings alone. In one of 
 these rambles, they all called at the Tower Lord and 
 Lady Ulverstone, the Castletons and their children. I 
 escaped the visit ; and on my return home, there was a 
 certain delicacy respecting old associations that restrained 
 much talk, before me, on so momentous an event. Roland, 
 like me, had kept out of the way. Blanche, poor child, igno- 
 rant of the antecedents, was the most communicative. And 
 the especial theme she selected was the grace and beauty 
 of Lady Castleton ! 
 
 A pressing invitation to spend some days at the castle had 
 been cordially given to all. It was accepted only by myself : 
 I wrote word that I would come. 
 
 Yes ; I longed to prove the strength of my own self-conquest, 
 and accurately test the nature of the feelings that had dis- 
 turbed me. That any sentiment which could be called love 
 remained for Lady Castleton, the wife of another, and that 
 other a man with so many claims on my affection as her lord, 
 I held as a moral impossibilit)'. But, with all those lively 
 impressions of early youth still engraved on my heart impres- 
 sions of the image of Fanny Trevanion as the fairest and 
 brightest of human beings could I feel free to love again ? 
 Could I seek to woo, and rivet to myself forever, the entire and 
 virgin affections of another, while there was a possibility that I 
 might compare and regret ? No ; either I must feel that, if 
 Fanny were again single could be mine without obstacle, 
 human or divine she had ceased to be the one I would single 
 out of the world ; or, though regarding love as the dead, I 
 would be faithful to its memory and its ashes. My mother 
 sighed, and looked fluttered and uneasy all the morning of the 
 day on which I was to repair to Compton. She even seemed 
 cross, for about the third time in her life, and paid no compli- 
 ment to Mr. Stultz, when my shooting-jacket was exchanged 
 for a black frock, which that artist had pronounced to be 
 "splendid"; neither did she honor me with any of those 
 little attentions to the contents of my portmanteau, and 
 the perfect "getting up "of my white waistcoats and cravats, 
 which made her natural instincts on such memorable occa- 
 sions. There was also a sort of querulous, pitying tender- 
 ness in her tone, when she spoke to Blanche, which was 
 quite pathetic ; though, fortunately, its cause remained dark 
 and impenetrable to the innocent comprehension of one 
 who could not see where the past filled the urns of the future 
 at the fountain of life. My father understood me better,
 
 THE CAXTONS. 445' 
 
 shook me by the hand as I got into the chaise, and muttered, 
 out of Seneca : 
 
 " Non tanquam transfuga, sed tanquam cxplorator." 
 " Not to desert, but examine." 
 
 Quite right. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AGREEABLY to the usual custom in great houses, as soon as 
 I arrived at Compton, I was conducted to my room, to adjust 
 my toilet, or compose my spirits by solitude it wanted an hour 
 to dinner. I had not, however, been thus left ten minutes, 
 before the door opened, and Trevanion himself (as I would 
 fain still call him) stood before me. Most cordial were his 
 greeting and welcome ; and, seating himself by my side, he 
 continued to converse, in his peculiar way bluntly eloquent, 
 and carelessly learned till the half-hour bell rang. He talked 
 on Australia; the Wakefield system ; cattle ; books, his trouble 
 in arranging his library ; his schemes for improving his prop- 
 erty, and embellishing his grounds ; his delight to find my 
 father look so well ; his determination to see a great deal of 
 him, whether his old college friend would or not. He talked, 
 in short, of everything except politics, and his own past 
 career showing only his soreness in that silence. But (inde- 
 pendently of the mere work of time) he looked yet more worn 
 and jaded in his leisure than he had done in the full tide of 
 business ; and his former abrupt quickness of manner now 
 seemed to partake of feverish excitement. I hoped that my 
 father would see much of him, for I felt that the weary mind 
 wanted soothing. 
 
 Just as the second bell rang, I entered the drawing-room. 
 There were at least twenty guests present each guest, no 
 doubt, some planet of fashion or fame, with satellites of its 
 own. But I saw only two forms distinctly ; first, Lord Cas- 
 tleton, conspicuous with star and garter somewhat ampler 
 and portlier in proportions, and with a frank dash of gray in 
 the silky waves of his hair ; but still as pre-eminent as ever 
 for that beauty the charm of which depends less than any 
 other upon youth arising, as it does, from a felicitous com- 
 bination of bearing and manner, and that exquisite suavity of 
 expression which steals into the heart, and pleases so much 
 that it becomes a satisfaction to admire ! Of Lord Castleton, 
 indeed, it might be said, as of Alcibiades, " that he was
 
 440 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 beautiful at every age." I felt my breath come thick, and a 
 mist passed before my eyes, as Lord Castleton led me through 
 the crowd, and the radiant vision of Fanny Trevanion, how 
 altered and how dazzling ! burst upon me. 
 
 I felt the light touch of that hand of snow ; but no guilty 
 thrill shot through my veins. I heard the voice, musical as 
 ever lower than it wa,s once, and more subdued in its key, 
 but steadfast and untremulous it was no longer the voice 
 that made " my soul plant itself in the ears." * The event was 
 over, and I knew that the dream had fled from the waking 
 world forever. 
 
 " Another old friend ! " as Lady Ulverstone came forth from 
 a little group of children, leading one fine boy of nine years 
 old, while one, two or three years younger, clung to her gown. 
 " Another old friend ! and," added Lady Ulverstone, after 
 the first kind greetings, " two new ones when the old are gone." 
 The slight melancholy left the voice, as, after presenting to 
 me the little Viscount, she drew forward the more bashful 
 Lord Albert, who indeed had something of his grandsire's and 
 namesake's look of refined intelligence in his brow and eyes. 
 
 The watchful tact of Lord Castleton was quick in terminat- 
 ing whatever embarrassment might belong to these introduc- 
 tions, as, leaning lightly on my arm, he drew me forward, and 
 presented me to the guests more immediately in our neighbor- 
 hood, who seemed by their earnest cordiality to have been 
 already prepared for the introduction. 
 
 Dinner was now announced, and I welcomed that sense of 
 relief and segregation with which one settles into one's own 
 "particular" chair at your large miscellaneous entertainment. 
 I stayed three days at that house. How truly had Tre- 
 vanion said that Fanny would make "an excellent great lady." 
 What perfect harmony between her manners and her position ; 
 just retaining enough of the girl's seductive gayety and 
 bewitching desire to please, to soften the new dignity of bear- 
 ing she had unconsciously assumed less, after all, as great 
 lady, than as wife and mother : with a fine breeding, perhaps 
 a little languid and artificial, as compared with her lord's, 
 which sprang, fresh and healthful, wholly from nature, but 
 still so void of all the chill of condescension, or the subtle 
 impertinence that belongs to that order of the inferior noblesse, 
 which boasts the name of " exclusives"; with what grace, void 
 of prudery, she took the adulation of the flutterers, turning 
 from them to her children, or escaping lightly to Lord Cas- 
 
 _* Sir Philip Sidney.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 4.} 7 
 
 tleton, with an ease that drew round her at once the protection 
 of hearth and home. 
 
 And certainly Lady Castleton was more incontestably 
 beautiful than Fanny Trevanion had been. 
 
 All this I acknowledged, not with a sigh and a pang, but 
 with a pure feeling of pride and delight. I might have loved 
 madly and presumptuously, as boys will do ; but I had loved 
 worthily-^the love left no blush on my manhood ; and 
 Fanny's very happiness was my perfect and total cure of 
 every wound in my heart not quite scarred over before. Had 
 she been discontented, sorrowful, without joy in the ties she had 
 formed, there might have been more danger that I should 
 brood over the past, and regret the loss of its idol. Here 
 there was none. And the very improvement in her beauty 
 had so altered its character so altered that Fanny Tre- 
 vanion and Lady Castleton seemed two persons. And, thus 
 observing and listening to her, I could now dispassionately 
 perceive such differences in our nature as seemed to justify 
 Trevanion's assertion, which once struck me as so monstrous, 
 " that we should not have been happy had fate permitted our 
 union." Pure-hearted and simple though she remained in 
 the artificial world, still that world was her element ; its 
 interests occupied her ; its talk, though just chastened from 
 scandal, flowed from her lips. To borrow the words of a man 
 who was himself a courtier, and one so distinguished that he 
 could afford to sneer at Chesterfield : * " S/ie had the routine 
 of that style of conversation which is a sort of gold leaf, that 
 is a great embellishment where it is joined to anything else." 
 I will not add, "but makes a very poor figure by itself," for 
 that Lady Castleton's conversation certainly did not do per- 
 haps, indeed, because it was not " by itself " and the gold 
 leaf was all the better for being thin, since it could not cover 
 even the surface of the sweet and amiable nature over which 
 it was spread. Still this was not the mind in which now, in 
 maturer experience, I would seek to find sympathy with 
 manly action, or companionship in the charms of intellectual 
 leisure. 
 
 There was about this same beautiful favorite of nature and 
 fortune a certain helplessness, which had even its grace in 
 that high station, and which, perhaps, tended to ensure her 
 domestic peace, for it served to attach her to those who had 
 won influence over her, and was happily accompanied by a 
 most affectionate disposition. But still, if less favored by cir- 
 
 * Lord Hervey's " Memoirs of George II."
 
 44$ THE CAXTONS. 
 
 cumstances, less sheltered from every wind that could visit 
 her too roughly if, as the wife of a man of inferior rank, she 
 had failed of that high seat and silken canopy reserved for 
 the spoiled darlings of fortune that helplessness might have 
 become querulous. I thought of poor Ellen Bolding and her 
 silken shoes. Fanny Trevanion seemed to have come into 
 the world with silk shoes not to walk where there was a 
 stone or a brier ! I heard something, in the gossip of those 
 around, that confirmed this view of Lady Castleton's charac- 
 ter, while it deepened my admiration of her lord, and showed 
 me how wise had been her choice, and how resolutely he had 
 prepared himself to vindicate his own. One evening, as I was 
 sitting a little apart from the rest, with two men of the London 
 world, to whose talk for it ran upon the on-dits and anecdotes 
 of a region long strange to me I was a silent but amused 
 listener ; one of the two said : " Well, I don't know anywhere 
 a more excellent creature than Lady Castleton ; so fond of 
 her children and her tone to Castleton so exactly what it 
 ought to be so affectionate, and yet, as it were, respectful. 
 And the more credit to her, if, as they say, she was not in love 
 with him when she married (to be sure, handsome as he is, he 
 is twice her age !) And no woman could have been more 
 flattered and courted by Lotharios and lady-killers than Lady 
 Castleton has been. I confess, to my shame, that Castleton's 
 luck puzzles me, for it is rather an exception to my general 
 experience." 
 
 " My dear /'said the other, who was one of those wise men. 
 
 of pleasure, who occasionally startle us into wondering how 
 they come to be so clever, and yet rest contented with mere 
 drawing-room celebrity men who seem always idle, yet ap- 
 pear to have read everything ; always indifferent to what 
 passes before them, yet who know the character and divine the 
 
 secrets of everybody " My dear ," said the gentleman, " you 
 
 would not be puzzled if you had studied Lord Castleton, 
 instead of her ladyship. Of all the conquests ever made by 
 Sedley Beaudesert, when the two fairest dames of the Faubourg 
 are said to have fought for his smiles, in the Bois de Boulogne 
 no conquest ever cost him such pains, or so tasked his knowl- 
 edge of women, as that of his wife after marriage ! He was 
 not satisfied with her hand, he was resolved to have her whole 
 heart, ' one entire and perfect chrysolite'; and he has suc- 
 ceeded ! Never was husband so watchful, and so little jeal- 
 ous ; never one who confided so generously in all that was 
 best in his wife, yet was so alert in protecting and guarding
 
 THE CAXTONS. 449 
 
 her, wherever she was weakest ! When, in the second year of 
 marriage, that dangerous German Prince von Leibenfels 
 attached himself so perseveringly to Lady Castieton, and the 
 scandal-mongers pricked up their ears, in hopes of a victim, I 
 watched Castieton with as much interest as if I had been look- 
 ing over Deschappelles playing at chess. You never saw any- 
 thing so masterly : he pitted himself against His Highness with 
 the cool confidence, not of a blind spouse, but a fortunate 
 rival. He surpassed him in the delicacy of his attentions, he 
 outshone him by his careless magnificence. Leibenfels had 
 the impertinence to send Lady Castieton a bouquet of some 
 rare flowers just in fashion. Castieton, an hour before, had 
 filled her whole balcony with the same costly exotics, as if they 
 were too common for nosegays, and only just worthy to bloom 
 for her a day. Young and really accomplished as Leibenfels 
 is, Castieton eclipsed him by his grace, and fooled him with 
 his wit ; he laid little plots to turn his moustache and guitar 
 into ridicule ; he seduced him into a hunt with thebuckhounds 
 (though Castieton himself had not hunted before, since he was 
 thirty), and drew him, spluttering German oaths, out of the 
 slough of a ditch ; he made him the laughter of the clubs : he 
 put him fairly out of fashion and all with such suavity and 
 politeness, and bland sense of superiority, that it was the finest 
 piece of high comedy you ever beheld. The poor Prince, who 
 had been coxcomb enough to lay a bet with a Frenchman as 
 to his success with the English in general, and Lady Castieton 
 in particular, went away with a face as long as Don Quixote's. 
 
 If you had but seen him at S House, the night before he 
 
 took leave of the island, and his comical grimace when Castle- 
 ton offered him a pinch of the Beaudesert mixture ! No ! the 
 fact is, that Castieton made it the object of his existence, the 
 masterpiece of his art, to secure to himself a happy home, and 
 the entire possession of his wife's heart. The first two or 
 three years, I fear, cost him more trouble than any other man 
 ever took, with his own wife at least ; but he may now rest in 
 peace Lady Castieton is won, and forever." 
 
 As my gentleman ceased, Lord Castleton's noble head rose 
 above the group standing round him ; and I saw Lady Castle- 
 ton turn with a look of well-bred fatigue from a handsome 
 young fop, who had affected to lower his voice while he spoke 
 to her, and, encountering the eyes of her husband, the look 
 changed at once into one of such sweet, smiling affection, such 
 frank, unmistakable wife like pride, that it seemed a response 
 to the assertion " Lady Castieton is won, and forever."
 
 450 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 Yes, that story increased my admiration for Lord Castleton : 
 it showed me with what forethought and earnest sense of re- 
 sponsibility he had undertaken the charge of a life, the guid- 
 ance of a character yet undeveloped : it lastingly acquitted him 
 of the levity that had been attributed to Sedley Beaudesert. 
 But I felt more than ever contented that the task had devolved 
 on one whose temper and experience had so fitted him to dis- 
 charge it. That German prince made me tremble from sym- 
 pathy with the husband, and in a sort of relative shudder 
 for myself ! Had that episode happened to me ! I could 
 never have drawn " high comedy " from it ! I could never have 
 so happily closed the fifth act with a pinch of the Beaudesert 
 mixture ! No, no ; to my homely sense of man's life and 
 employment, there was nothing alluring in the prospect of 
 watching over the golden tree in the garden, with a "woe 
 to the Argus, if Mercury once lull him to sleep ! " Wife 
 of mine shall need no watching, save in sickness and sorrow ! 
 Thank Heaven that my way of life does. not lead through the 
 roseate thoroughfares, beset with German princes laying bets 
 for my perdition, and fine gentlemen admiring the skill with 
 which I play at chess for so terrible a stake ! To each rank and 
 each temper, its own laws. I acknowledge that Fanny is an 
 excellent marchioness, and Lord Castleton an incomparable 
 marquis. But Blanche ! if I can win thy true, simple heart, I 
 trust I shall begin at the fifth act of high Comedy, and say at 
 the altar : 
 
 "Once won, won forever ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I RODE home on a horse my host lent me ; and Lord Castle- 
 ton rode part of the way with me, accompanied by his two 
 boys, who bestrode manfully their Shetland ponies, and cantered 
 on before us. I paid some compliment to the spirit and intelli- 
 gence of these children a compliment they well deserved. 
 
 " Why, yes," said the Marquis, with a father's becoming 
 pride, " I hope neither of them will shame his grandsire, Tre- 
 vanion. Albert (though not quite the wonder poor Lady 
 Ulverstone declares him to be) is rather too precocious ; and 
 it is all I can do to prevent his being spoilt by flattery to his 
 cleverness, which, I think, is much worse than even flattery to 
 rank a danger to which, despite Albert's destined inheritance, 
 the elder brother is more exposed. Eton soon takes out the 
 conceit of the latter and more vulgar kind. I remember
 
 THE CAXTONS. 45 1 
 
 Lord (you know what an unpretending, good-natured 
 
 fellow he is now) strutting into the play-ground, a raw boy, 
 with his chin up in the air, and burly Dick Johnson (rather a 
 tuft-hunter now, I'm afraid) coming up, and saying, ' Well, sir, 
 
 and who the deuce are you ? ' ' Lord ,' says the poor 
 
 devil unconsciously, ' eldest son of the Marquis of .' ' Oh, 
 
 indeed ! ' cries Johnson ; ' then, there's one kick for my lord, 
 and two for the Marquis ! ' I am not fond of kicking, but I 
 
 doubt if anything ever did more good than those three 
 
 kicks ! But," continued Lord Castleton, " when one flatters a 
 boy for his cleverness, even Eton itself cannot kick the conceit 
 out of him. Let him be last in the form, and the greatest 
 dunce ever flogged, there are always people to say that your 
 public schools don't do for your great geniuses. And it is ten 
 to one but what the father is plagued into taking the boy 
 home, and giving him a private tutor, who fixes him into a 
 prig forever. A coxcomb in dress (said the Marquis, smiling) 
 is a trifler it would ill become me to condemn, and I own that 
 I would rather see a youth a fop than a sloven ; but a cox- 
 comb in ideas why, the younger he is, the more unnatural 
 and disagreeable. Now, Albert, over that hedge, sir." 
 
 " That hedge, papa? The pony will never do it." 
 
 " Then," said Lord Castleton, taking off his hat with polite- 
 ness, " I fear you will deprive us of the pleasure of your com- 
 pany." 
 
 The boy laughed, and made gallantly for the hedge, though 
 I saw by his change of color that it a little alarmed him. The 
 pony could not clear the hedge ; but it was a pony of tact and 
 resources, and it scrambled through like a cat, inflicting sun- 
 dry rents and tears on a jacket of Raphael blue. 
 
 Lord Castleton said, smiling : " You see, I teach them to 
 get through a difficulty one way or the other. Between you 
 and me," he added seriously, " I perceive a very different 
 world rising round the next generation from that in which I 
 first went forth and took my pleasure. I shall rear my boys 
 accordingly. Rich noblemen must nowadays be useful men ; 
 and if they can't leap over briers, they must scramble through 
 them. Don't you agree with me ? " 
 
 " Yes, heartily." 
 
 " Marriage makes a man much wiser," said the Marquis, 
 after a pause. " I smile now, to think how often I sighed at 
 the thought of growing old. Now I reconcile myself to the 
 gray hairs without dreams of a wig, and enjoy youth still 
 for (pointing to his sons) it is there!" 1
 
 45^ THE CAXTONS. 
 
 " He has very nearly found out the secret of the saffron bag 
 now," said my father, pleased, and rubbing his hands, when I 
 repeated this talk with Lord Castleton. " But I fear poor 
 Trevanion," he added, with a compassionate change of coun- 
 tenance, " is still far away from the sense of Lord Bacon's 
 receipt. And his wife, you say, out of very love for him, keeps 
 always drawing discord from the one jarring wire." 
 
 " You must talk to her, sir." 
 
 "I will," said my father angrily; "and scold her too 
 foolish woman ! I shall tell her Luther's advice to the Prince 
 of Anhalt." 
 
 " What was that, sir ? " 
 
 " Only to throw a baby into the river Maldon, because it 
 had sucked dry five wet nurses besides the mother, and must 
 therefore be a changeling. Why, that ambition of hers would 
 suck dry all the mother's milk in the genus mammalian. And 
 such a withered, rickety, malign, little changeling too ! She 
 shall fling it into the river, by all that is holy ! " cried my 
 father ; and, suiting the action to the word, away into the 
 pond went the spectacles he had been rubbing indignantly for 
 the last three minutes. " Papae ! " faltered my father, aghast, 
 while the Cyprinidse, mistaking the dip of the spectacles for 
 an invitation to dinner, came scudding up to the bank. " It is 
 all your fault," said Mr. Caxton, recovering himself. " Get 
 me the new tortoise-shell spectacles and a large slice of bread. 
 You see that when fish are reduced to a pond they recognize a 
 benefactor, which they never do when rising at flies, or groping 
 for worms, in the waste world of a river. Hem ! a hint for 
 the Ulverstones. Besides the bread and the spectacles, just 
 look out and bring me the old black-letter copy of St. Antho- 
 ny's ' Sermon to Fishes.' " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SOME weeks now have passed since my return to the Tower ; 
 the Castletons are gone, and all Trevanion's gay guests. And 
 since these departures, visits between the two houses have 
 been interchanged often, and the bonds of intimacy are grow- 
 ing close. Twice has my father held long conversations apart 
 with Lady Ulverstone (my mother is not foolish enough to 
 feel a pang now at such confidences), and the result has 
 become apparent. Lady Ulverstone has ceased all talk against 
 the world and the public ceased to fret the galled pride of 
 her husband with irritating sympathy. She has made herself
 
 TnE CAXTONS. 453 
 
 the true partner of his present occupations, as she was of those 
 in the past ; she takes interest in farming, and gardens, and 
 flowers, and those philosophical peaches which come from trees 
 academical that Sir William Temple reared in his graceful 
 retirement. She does more she sits by her husband's side in 
 the library, reads the books he reads, or, if in Latin, coaxes 
 him into construing them. Insensibly she leads him into 
 studies farther and farther remote from Blue Books and 
 Hansard ; and taking my father's hint, 
 
 "Allures to brighter worlds, and leads the way." 
 
 They are inseparable. Darby-and-Joan-like, you see them 
 together in the library, the garden, or the homely little pony 
 phaeton, for which Lord Ulverstone has resigned the fast- 
 trotting cob, once identified with the eager looks of the busy 
 Trevanion. It is most touching, most beautiful ! And to 
 think what a victory over herself the proud woman must have 
 obtained ! never a thought that seems to murmur, never a 
 word to recall the ambitious man back from the philosophy 
 into which his active mind flies for refuge. And with the effort 
 her brow has become so serene ! That careworn expression, 
 which her fine features once wore, is fast vanishing. And 
 what affects me most is to think that this change (which is 
 already settling into happiness) has been wrought by Austin's 
 counsels and appeals to her sense and affection. " It is to 
 you," he said, " that Trevanion must look for more than com- 
 fort for cheerfulness and satisfaction. Your child is gone 
 from you the world ebbs away you two should be all in all 
 to each other. Be so." Thus, after paths so devious, meet 
 those who had parted in youth, now on the verge of age. 
 There, in the same scenes where Austin and Ellinor had first 
 formed acquaintance, he aiding her to soothe the wounds 
 inflicted by the ambition that had separated their lots, and 
 both taking counsel to insure the happiness of the rival she 
 had preferred. 
 
 After all this vexed public life of toil, and care, and ambi* 
 tion, to see Trevanion and Ellinor drawing closer and closer 
 to each other, knowing private life and its charms for the first 
 time verily, it would have been a theme for an elegiast like 
 Tibullus. 
 
 But all this while a younger love, with no blurred leaves to- 
 erase from the chronicle, has been keeping sweet account of 
 the summer time. " Very near are two hearts that have no 
 guile between them," saith a proverb, traced back to Confucius.
 
 454 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 O ye days of still sunshine, reflected back from ourselves O 
 ye haunts, endeared evermore by a look, tone, or smile, or 
 rapt silence ; when more and more with each hour unfolded 
 before me, that nature, so tenderly coy, so cheerful though 
 serious, so attuned by simple cares to affection, yet so filled, from 
 soft musings and solitude, with a poetry that gave grace to 
 duties the homeliest setting life's trite things to music ! 
 Here nature and fortune concurred alike ; equal in birth and 
 pretensions, similar in tastes and in objects, loving the healthful 
 activity of purpose, but content to find it around us neither 
 envying the wealthy nor vying with the great ; each framed 
 by temper to look on the bright side of life, and find founts of 
 delight, and green spots fresh with verdure, where eyes but 
 accustomed to cities could see but the sands and the mirage : 
 while afar (as man's duty) I had gone through the travail that, 
 in wrestling with fortune, gives pause to the heart to recover 
 its losses, and know the value of love, in its graver sense of 
 life's earnest realities ; Heaven had reared, at the thresholds 
 of home, the young tree that should cover the roof with its 
 blossoms and embalm with its fragrance the daily air of my 
 being. 
 
 It had been the joint prayer of those kind ones I left, that 
 such might be my reward ; and each had contributed, in his 
 or her several way, to fit that fair life for the ornament and joy 
 of the one that now asked to guard and to cherish it. From 
 Roland came that deep, earnest honor a man's in its 
 strength, and a woman's in its delicate sense of refinement. 
 From Roland, that quick taste for all things noble in poetry 
 and lovely in nature the eye that sparkled to read how Bay- 
 ard stood alone at the bridge, and saved an army ; or wept 
 over the page that told how the dying Sidney put the bowl 
 from his burning lips. Is that too masculine a spirit for 
 some ? Let each please himself. Give me the woman who 
 can echo all thoughts that are noblest in men ! And that eye, 
 too like Roland's could pause to note each finer mesh in 
 the wonderful webwork of beauty. No landscape to her was 
 the same yesterday and to-day a deeper shade from the skies 
 could change the face of the moors the springing up of fresh 
 wild flowers, the very song of some bird unheard before, lent 
 variety to the broad, rugged heath. Is that too simple a source 
 of pleasure for some to prize ? Be it so to those who need the 
 keen stimulants that cities afford. But, if we were to pass all 
 our hours in those scenes, it was something to have the tastes 
 which own no monotony in Nature.
 
 THE CAXTONS. 455 
 
 All this came from Roland ; and to this, with thoughtful 
 wisdom, my father had added enough knowledge from books 
 to make those tastes more attractive, and to lend to impulsive 
 perception of beauty and goodness the culture that draws 
 finer essence from beauty, and expands the Good into the 
 Better by heightening the site of the survey : hers, knowledge 
 enough to sympathize with intellectual pursuits, not enough to 
 dispute on man's province Opinion. Still, whether in nature 
 or in lore, still 
 
 " The fairest garden in her looks, 
 And in her mind the choicest books ! " 
 
 And yet, thou wise Austin and thou, Roland, poet that never 
 wrote a verse yet your work had been incomplete, but then 
 Woman slept in, and the mother gave to her she designed for 
 a daughter the last finish of meek, every-day charities the 
 mild household virtues, "the soft word that turneth away 
 wrath," the angelic pity for man's rougher faults, the patience 
 that bideth its time, and exacting no " rights of woman," sub- 
 jugates us, delighted, to the invisible thrall. 
 
 Dost thou remember, my Blanche, that soft summer evening 
 when the vows our eyes had long interchanged stole at last 
 from the lip ? Wife mine ! come to my side look over me 
 while I write : there, thy tears (happy tears are they not, 
 Blanche ?) have blotted the page ! Shall we tell the world 
 more ? Right, my Blanche ; no words should profane the 
 pJace where those tears have fallen ! 
 
 ******* 
 
 And here I would fain conclude ; but alas, and alas ! that I 
 cannot associate with our hopes, on this side the grave, him 
 who, we fondly hoped (even on the bridal-day, that gave his 
 sister to my arms), would come to the hearth where his place 
 now stood vacant, contented with glory, and fitted at last for 
 the tranquil happiness which long years of repentance and 
 trial had deserved. 
 
 t Within the first year of my marriage, and shortly after a 
 gallant share in a desperate action, which had covered his 
 name with new honors, just when we were most elated, in the 
 blinded vanity of human pride, came the fatal news ! The 
 brief career was run. He died, as I knew he would have 
 prayed to die, at the close of a day ever memorable in the 
 annals of that marvellous empire, which valor without parallel 
 has annexed to the Throne of the Isles. He died in the arms 
 of Victory, and his last smile met the eyes of the noble chief
 
 456 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 who, even in that hour, could pause from the tide of triumph 
 by the victim it had cast on its bloody shore. " One favor," 
 faltered the dying man ; " I have a father at home he, too, 
 is a soldier. In my tent is my will : it gives all I have to 
 him he can take it without shame. That is not enough ! 
 Write to him you with your own hand, and tell him how 
 his son fell ! " And the hero fulfilled the prayer, and that 
 letter is dearer to Roland than all the long roll of the ancestral 
 dead ! Nature has reclaimed her rights, and the forefathers 
 recede before the son. 
 
 In a side chapel of the old gothic church, amidst the mould- 
 ering tombs of those who fought at Acre and Agincourt, a 
 fresh tablet records the death of HERBERT DE CAXTON, with 
 the simple inscription : 
 
 HE FELL ON THE FIELD : 
 
 HIS COUNTRY MOURNED HIM, 
 
 AND HIS FATHER IS RESIGNED. 
 
 Years have rolled away since that tablet was placed there, 
 and changes have passed on that nook of earth which bounds 
 our little world : fair chambers have sprung up amidst the 
 desolate ruins ; far and near smiling cornfields replace the 
 bleak, dreary moors. The land supports more retainers than 
 ever thronged to the pennon of its barons of old ; and Roland 
 can look from his Tower over domains that are reclaimed, 
 year by year, from the waste, till the ploughshare shall win a. 
 lordship more opulent than those feudal chiefs ever held by 
 the tenure of the sword. And the hospitable mirth that had 
 fled from the ruin has been renewed in the hall ; and rich and 
 poor, great and lowly, have welcomed the rise of an ancient 
 house from the dust of decay. All those dreams of Roland's 
 youth are fulfilled ; but they do not gladden his heart like the 
 thought that his son, at the last, was worthy of his line, and 
 the hope that no gulf shall yawn between the two when the 
 Grand Circle is rounded, and man's past and man's future 
 meet where Time disappears. Never was that lost one for- 
 gotten ! Never was his name breathed but tears rushed to 
 the eyes ; and, each morning, the peasant going to his labor 
 might see Roland steal down the dell to the deep-set door of 
 the chapel. None presume there to follow his steps, or 
 intrude on his solemn thoughts ; for there, in sight of that 
 tablet, are his orisons made, and the remembrance of the dead 
 forms a part of the commune with Heaven. But the old man's 
 step is still firm, and his brow still erect ; and you may see in
 
 THE CAXTONS. 457 
 
 his face that it was no hollow boast which proclaimed that the 
 " father was resigned ": and ye who doubt if too Roman a 
 hardness might not be found in that Christian resignation, 
 think what it is to have feared for a son the life of shame, 
 and ask then, if the sharpest grief to a father is in a son's 
 death of honor. 
 
 Years have passed, and two fair daughters play at the 
 knees of Blanche, or creep round the footstool of Austin, 
 waiting patiently for the expected kiss when he looks up from 
 the Great Book, now drawing fast to its close : or, if Roland 
 enter the room, forget all their sober demureness, and, 
 unawed by the terrible " Papse ! " run clamorous for the prom- 
 ised swing in the orchard, or the fiftieth recital of " Chevy 
 Chase." 
 
 For my part, I take the goods the gods provide me, and 
 am contented with girls that have the eyes of their mother ; 
 but Roland, ungrateful man, begins to grumble that we are so 
 neglectful of the rights of heirs-male. He is in doubt whether 
 to lay the fault on Mr. Squills or on us : I am not sure that 
 he does not think it a conspiracy of all three to settle the 
 representation of the martial De Caxtons on the "spindle 
 side." Whosoever be the right person to blame, an omission 
 so fatal to the straight line in the pedigree is rectified at last, 
 and Mrs. Primmins again rushes, or rather rolls in the move- 
 ment natural to forms globular and spheral into my father's 
 room, with 
 
 " Sir, sir it is a boy ! " 
 
 Whether my father asked also this time that question so 
 puzzling to metaphysical inquirers, " What is a boy?" I know 
 not : I rather suspect he had not leisure for so abstract a 
 question ; for the whole household burst on him, and my 
 mother, in that storm peculiar to the elements of the Mind 
 Feminine a sort of sunshiny storm between laughter and 
 crying whirled him off to behold the Neogilos. 
 
 Now, some months after that date, on a winter's evening, 
 we were all assembled in the hall, which was still our usual 
 apartment, since its size permitted to each his own segregated 
 and peculiar employment. A large screen fenced off from 
 interruption my father's erudite settlement ; and quite out of 
 sight, behind that impermeable barrier, he was now calmly 
 winding up that eloquent peroration which will astonish the 
 world whenever, by Heaven's special mercy, the printer's 
 devils have done with " The History of Human Error." In 
 another nook, my uncle had ensconced himself stirring his
 
 458 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 coffee (in the cup my mother had presented to him so many 
 years ago, and which had miraculously escaped all the ills the 
 race of crockery is heir to), a volume of "Ivanhoe"in the 
 other hand ; and, despite the charm of the Northern Wizard, 
 his eye not on the page. On the wall, behind him, hangs the 
 picture of Sir Herbert de Caxton, the soldier-comrade of Sid- 
 ney and Drake ; and, at the foot of the picture, Roland has 
 slung his son's sword beside the letter that spoke of his death, 
 which is framed and glazed : sword and letter had become as 
 the last, nor least honored, Penates of the hall the son was 
 grown an ancestor. 
 
 Not far from my uncle sat Mr. Squills, employed in mapping 
 out phrenological divisions on a cast he had made from the 
 skull of one of the Australian aborigines a ghastly present 
 which (in compliance with a yearly letter to that effect) I had 
 brought him over, together with a stuffed " wombat " and a large 
 bundle of sarsaparilla. (For the satisfaction of his patients, I 
 may observe, parenthetically, that the skull and the " wom- 
 bat " that last is a creature between a miniature pig and a 
 very small badger were not precisely packed up with the 
 sarsaparilla !) Farther on stood open, but idle, the new 
 pianoforte, at which, before my father had given his prepara- 
 tory hem, and sat down to the Great Book, Blanche and my 
 mother had been trying hard to teach me to bear the third in 
 the glee of " The Chough and Crow to roost have gone," 
 vain task, in spite of all flattering assurances that I have a 
 very fine " bass," if I could but manage to humor it. Fortu- 
 nately for the ears of the audience, that attempt is now aban- 
 doned. My mother is hard at work on her tapestry the last 
 pattern in fashion to wit, a rosy-cheeked young troubadour 
 playing the lute under a salmon-colored balcony : the two lit- 
 tle girls look gravely on, prematurely in love, I suspect, with 
 the troubadour ; and Blanche and I have stolen away into a 
 corner, which, by some strange delusion, we consider out of 
 sight, and in that corner is the cradle of the Neogilos. Indeed, 
 it is not our fault that it is there, Roland would have it so ; 
 and the baby is so good, too, he never cries at least so say 
 Blanche and my mother : at all events, he does not cry to-night. 
 And, indeed, that child is a wonder ! He seems to know and 
 respond to what was uppermost at our hearts when he was 
 born ; and yet more, when Roland (contrary, I dare say, to all 
 custom) permitted neither mother, nor nurse, nor creature of 
 womankind, to hold him at the baptismal font, but bent over 
 the new Christian his own dark, high-featured face, reminding
 
 THE CAXTONS. 459 
 
 one of the eagle that hid the infant in its nest, and watched over 
 it with wings that had battled with the storm : and from that 
 moment the child, who took the name of HERBERT, seemed to 
 recognize Roland better than his nurse, or even mother 
 seemed to know that, in giving him that name, we sought to 
 give Roland his son once more ! Never did the old man come 
 near the infant but it smiled, and crowed, and stretched out 
 its little arms ; and then the mother and I would press each 
 other's hand secretly, and were not jealous. Well, then, 
 Blanche and Pisistratus were seated near the cradle, and talk- 
 ing in low whispers, when my father pushed aside the screen, 
 and said : 
 
 " There the work is done ! And now it may go to press 
 as soon as you will." 
 
 Congratulations poured in ; my father bore them with his 
 usual equanimity ; and standing on the hearth, his hand in his 
 waistsoat, he said, musingly, " Among the last delusions of 
 Human Error, I have had to notice Rousseau's phantasy of 
 Perpetual Peace, and all the like pastoral dreams, which pre- 
 ceded the bloodiest wars that have convulsed the earth for 
 more than a thousand years ! " 
 
 "And to judge by the newspapers," said I, "the same de- 
 lusions are renewed again. Benevolent theorists go about 
 prophesying peace as a positive certainty, deduced from that 
 sibyl-book the ledger ; and we are never again to buy cannons, 
 provided only we can exchange cotton for corn." 
 
 MR. SQUILLS (who, having almost wholly retired from 
 general business, has, from want of something better to do, 
 attended sundry "Demonstrations in the North," since which 
 he has talked much about the march of improvement, the 
 spirit of the age, and " Us of the nineteenth century"). I 
 heartily hope that those benevolent theorists are true prophets. 
 I have found, in the course of my professional practice, that 
 men go out of the world quite fast enough, without hacking 
 them into pieces, or blowing them up into the air. War is a 
 great evil. 
 
 BLANCHE (passing by Squills, and glancing towards Ro- 
 land). Hush ! 
 
 Roland remains silent. 
 
 MR. CAXTON. War is a great evil ; but evil is admitted by 
 Providence into the agency of creation, physical and moral. 
 The existence of evil has puzzled wiser heads than ours, 
 Squills. But, no doubt, there is One above who has His 
 reasons for it. The combative bump seems as common to the
 
 460 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 human skull as the philoprogenitive, if it is In our organ- 
 ization, be sure it is not there without cause. Neither is it 
 just to man, nor wisely submissive to the Disposer of all events, 
 to suppose that war is wholly and wantonly produced by 
 human crimes and follies ; that it conduces only to ill, and 
 does not as often arise from the necessities interwoven in 
 the framework of society, and speed the great ends of the 
 human race, conformably with the designs of the Omnis- 
 cient. Not one great war has ever desolated the earth, but 
 has left behind it seeds that have ripened into blessings incal- 
 culable ! 
 
 MR. SQUILLS (with the groan of a dissentient at a "Demon- 
 stration ") Oh ! oh ! OH ! 
 
 Luckless Squills ! Little could he have foreseen the 
 shower-bath, or rather douche, of erudition that fell splash on 
 his head, as he pulled the string with that impertinent Oh ! 
 oh ! Down first came the Persian War, with Median myriads 
 disgorging all the rivers they had drunk up in their march 
 through the East all the arts, all the letters, all the sciences, 
 all the notions of liberty that we inherit from Greece my 
 father rushed on with them all, sousing Squills with his proofs 
 that, without the Persian war, Greece would never have risen 
 to be the teacher of the world. Before the gasping victim 
 could take breath, down came Hun, Goth, and Vandal, on 
 Italy and Squills. 
 
 " What, sir ! " cried my father, " don't you see that from 
 those eruptions on demoralized Rome came the regeneration 
 of manhood ; the re-baptism of earth from the last soils of 
 paganism ; and the remote origin of whatever of Christianity 
 yet exists, free from the idolatries with which Rome contam- 
 inated the faith ?" 
 
 Squills held up his hands and made a splutter. Down came 
 Charlemagne paladins and all ! There my father was grand ! 
 What a picture he made of the broken, jarring, savage elements 
 of barbaric society. And the iron hand of the great Frank 
 settling the nations and founding existent Europe. Squills 
 was now fast sinking into coma, or stupefaction ; but catching 
 at a straw, as he heard the word " Crusades," he stuttered 
 forth : " Ah ! there I defy you." 
 
 " Defy me there ! " cries my father, and one would think the 
 ocean was in the shower-bath, it came down with such a rattle. 
 My father scarcely touched on the smaller points in excuse for 
 the Crusades, though he recited very volubly all the humaner 
 arts introduced into Europe by that invasion of the East ; and
 
 I HE CAXTONS. 461 
 
 showed how it had served civilization, by the vent it afforded 
 for the rude energies of chivalry ; by the element of destruc- 
 tion to feudal tyranny that it introduced ; by its use in the 
 emancipation of burghs, and the disrupture of serfdom. But 
 he painted, in colors vivid as if caught from the skies of the 
 East, the great spread of Mahometanism, and the danger 
 it menaced to Christian Europe, and drew up the God- 
 freys, and Tancreds, and Richards, as a league of the 
 Age and Necessity, against the terrible progress of the sword 
 and the Koran. " You call them madmen," cried my father, 
 " but the frenzy of nations is the statesmanship of fate ! How 
 know you that, but for the. terror inspired by the hosts who 
 marched to Jersualem how know you that the Crescent had 
 not waved over other realms than those which Roderic lost to 
 the Moor ? If Christianity had been less a passion, and the 
 passion had less stirred up all Europe, how know you that the 
 creed of the Arab (which was then, too, a passion) might not 
 have planted its mosques in the forum of Rome, and on 
 the site of Notre Dame? For in the war between creeds 
 when the creeds are embraced by vast races think you 
 that the reason of sages can cope with the passion of mil- 
 lions ? Enthusiasm must oppose enthusiasm. The crusader 
 fought for the tomb of Christ, but he saved the life of Christ- 
 endom." 
 
 My father paused. Squills was quite passive ; he struggled 
 no more he was drowned. 
 
 " So," resumed Mr. Caxton, more quietly " so, if later 
 wars yet perplex us as to the good that the All-wise One draws 
 from their evils, our posterity may read their uses as clearly as 
 we now read the finger of Providence resting on the barrows 
 of Marathon, or guiding Peter the Hermit to the battlefields of 
 Palestine. Nor, while we admit the evil to the passing 
 generation, can we deny that many of the virtues that make 
 the ornament and vitality of peace sprung up first in the con- 
 vulsion of war ! " Here Squills began to evince faint signs of 
 resuscitation, when my father let fly at him one of those 
 numberless waterworks which his prodigious memory kept in 
 constant supply. " Hence," said he, " hence, not unjustly, 
 has it been remarked by a philosopher, shrewd at least in 
 worldly experience (Squills again closed his eyes, and became 
 exanimate) : ' It is strange to imagine that war, which of all 
 things appears the most savage, should be the passion of the 
 most heroic spirits. But 'tis in war that the knot of fellowship 
 js closest drawn ; 'tis in war that mutual succor is most given,
 
 40"2 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 mutual danger run, and common affection most exerted and 
 employed ; for heroism and philanthropy are almost one and 
 the same ! ' " * 
 
 My father ceased, and mused a little. Squills, if still living, 
 thought it prudent to feign continued extinction. 
 
 " Not," said Mr. Caxton, resuming ; " Not but what I hold 
 it our duty never to foster into a passion what we must rather 
 submit to as an awful necessity. You say truly, Mr. Squills, 
 war is an evil ; and woe to those who, on slight pretences, 
 open the gates of Janus, 
 
 4 The dire abode, 
 And the fierce issues of the furious god.' " 
 
 Mr. Squills, after a long pause, employed in some of the 
 more handy means for the reanimation of submerged bodies, 
 supporting himself close to the fire in a semi-erect posture, 
 with gentle friction, self-applied, to each several limb, and 
 copious recourse to certain steaming stimulants which my 
 compassionate hands prepared for him, stretches himself, and 
 says feebly : " In short, then, not to provoke farther discussion, 
 you would go to war in defence of your country. Stop, sir 
 stop, for Heaven's sake ! I agree with you. I agree with 
 you ! But, fortunately, there is little chance now that any new 
 Boney will build boats at Boulogne to invade us." 
 
 MR. CAXTON. I am not so sure of that, Mr. Squills. (Squills 
 falls back with a glassy stare of deprecating horror.) I don't 
 read the newspapers very often, but the past helps me to judge 
 of the present. 
 
 Therewith my father earnestly recommended to Mr. Squills 
 the careful perusal of certain passages in Thucydides, just 
 previous to the outbreak of the Peloponnesian war (Squills 
 nastily nodded the most servile acquiescence), and drew an 
 ingenious parallel between the signs and symptoms foreboding 
 that outbreak, and the very apprehension of coming war which 
 was evinced by the recent Jo paans to peace, f And, after 
 sundry notable and shrewd remarks, tending to show where 
 elements for war were already ripening, amidst clashing opin- 
 ions and disorganized states, he wound up with saying : " So 
 that, all things considered, I think we had better just keep up 
 enough of the bellicose spirit, not to think it a sin if we are
 
 THE CAXTONS. 463 
 
 called upon to fight for our pestles and mortars, our three-per- 
 cents., goods, chattels, and liberties. Such a time must come, 
 sooner or later, even though the whole world were spinning 
 cotton, and printing sprigged calicoes. We may not see it, 
 Squills, but that young gentleman in the cradle, whom you 
 have lately brought into light, may." 
 
 " And if so," said my uncle abruptly, speaking for the first 
 time " if indeed it be for altar and hearth ! " My father 
 suddently drew in and pished a little, for he saw that he was 
 caught in the web of his own eloquence. 
 
 Then Roland took down from the wall his son's sword. 
 Stealing to the cradle, he laid it in its sheath by the infant's 
 side, and glanced from my father to us with a beseeching eye. 
 Instinctively Blanche bent over the cradle, as if to protect the 
 Neogilos; but the child, waking, turned from her, and attracted 
 by the glitter of the hilt, laid one hand lustily thereon, and 
 pointed with the other laughingly to Roland. 
 
 " Only on my father's proviso," said I hesitatingly. " For 
 hearth and altar nothing less ! " 
 
 " And even in that case," said my father, " add the shield 
 to the sword ! " and on the other side of the infant he placed 
 Roland's well-worn Bible, blistered in many a page with 
 secret tears. 
 
 There we all stood, grouping round the young centre of so 
 many hopes and fears in peace or in war, born alike for the 
 Battle of Life. And he, unconscious of all that made our lips 
 silent, and our eyes dim, had already left that bright bauble 
 of the sword, and thrown both arms round Roland's bended 
 neck. 
 
 "Herbert!" murmured Roland; and Blanche gently drew 
 away the sword and left the Bible. 
 
 THE END.
 
 LEILA 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE SIEGE OF GRANADA
 
 TO 
 
 THE RIGHT HONORABLE 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON, 
 
 THIS TALE IS DEDICATED 
 BY ONE 
 
 WHO WISHES HE COULD HAVE FOUND A MORE DURABLE MONUMENT 
 WHEREON TO ENGRAVE 
 
 A MEMORIAL OF REAL FRIENDSHIP.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAP. PAGB 
 
 I. THE ENCHANTER AND THE WARRIOR, 5 
 
 II. THE KING WITHIN HIS PALACE, 8 
 
 III. THE LOVERS, 15 
 
 IV. THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER 18 
 
 V. AMBITION DISTORTED INTO VICE BY LAW, . . . .21 
 
 VI. THE LION IN THE NET, 26 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 I. THE ROYAL TENT OF SPAIN. THE KING AND THE DOMIN- 
 ICAN. THE VISITOR AND THE HOSTAGE, ... 29 
 II. THE AMBUSH, THE STRIFE, AND THE CAPTURE, . . 38 
 
 III. THE HERO IN THE POWER OF THE DREAMER, ... 47 
 
 IV. A FULLER VIEW OF THE CHARACTER OF BOABDIL MUZA 
 
 IN THE GARDENS OF HIS BELOVED 54 
 
 V. BOABDIL'S RECONCILIATION WITH HIS PEOPLE, ... 58 
 
 VI. LEILA. HER NEW LOVER. PORTRAIT OF THE FIRST IN- 
 
 QUISITOR OF SPAIN. THE CHALICE RETURNED TO THE 
 
 LIPS OF ALMAMEN, 59 
 
 VII. THE TRIBUNAL AND THE MIRACLE, 66 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 I. ISABEL AND THE JEWISH MAIDEN, 70 
 
 II. THE TEMPTATION OF THE JEWESS. IN WHICH THE HISTORY 
 
 PASSES FROM THE OUTWARD TO THE INTERNAL, . 74 
 III. THE HOUR AND THE MAN 79 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 I. LEILA IN THE CASTLE. THE SIEGE 83 
 
 II. ALMAMEN'S PROPOSED ENTERPRISE. THE THREE ISRAEL- 
 ITES. CIRCUMSTANCE IMPRESSES EACH CHARACTER WITH 
 
 A VARYING DIE, 88 
 
 III. THE FUGITIVE AND THE MEETING, 91 
 
 IV. ALMAMEN HEARS AND SEES, BUT REFUSES TO BELIEVE ; FOR 
 
 THE BRAIN, OVERWROUGHT, GROWS DULL, EVEN IN THE 
 
 KEENEST, 95 
 
 V. IN THE FERMENT OF GREAT EVENTS THE DREGS RISE, . 100 
 
 VI. BOABDIL'S RETURN. THE REAPPEARANCE OF FERDINAND 
 
 BEFORE GRANADA, 105 
 
 VII. THE CONFLAGRATION. THE MAJESTY OF AN INDIVIDUAL 
 
 PASSION IN THE MIDST OF HOSTILE THOUSANDS, . 106 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 I. THE GREAT BATTLE, no 
 
 II. THE NOVICE, 118 
 
 III. THE PAUSE BETWEEN DEFEAT AND SURRENDER, . . 125 
 
 IV. THE ADVENTURE OF THE SOLITARY HORSEMAN, . . 131 
 V. THE SACRIFICE, 136 
 
 VI. THE RETURN. THE RIOT. THE TREACHERY. AND THE 
 
 DEATH, . . . 139 
 
 VII. THE END, ... 146
 
 LEILA; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE SIEGE OF GRANADA. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ENCHANTER AND THE WARRIOR. 
 
 IT was summer of the year 1491, and the armies of Ferdi- 
 nand and Isabel invested the city of Granada. 
 
 The night was not far advanced ; and the moon, which broke 
 through the transparent air of Andalusia, shone calmly over 
 the immense and murmuring encampment of the Spanish foe, 
 and touched with a hazy light the snow-capped summits of the 
 Sierra Nevada, contrasting the verdure and luxuriance which no 
 devastation of man could utterly sweep from the beautiful 
 vale below. 
 
 In the streets of the Moorish city many a group still lin- 
 gered. Some, as if unconscious of the beleaguering war with- 
 out, were listening in quiet indolence to the strings of the 
 Moorish lute, or the lively tale of an Arabian improvvisatore ; 
 others were conversing with such eager and animated gestures, 
 as no ordinary excitement could wring from the stately calm 
 habitual to every Oriental people. But the more public 
 places, in which gathered these different groups, only the more 
 impressively heightened the desolate and solemn repose that 
 brooded over the rest of the city. 
 
 At this time a man, with downcast eyes, and arms folded 
 within the sweeping gown which descended to his feet, was 
 seen passing through the streets, alone, and apparently unob- 
 servant of all around him. Yet this indifference was by no
 
 LEILA. 
 
 means shared by the straggling crowds through which, from 
 time to time, he musingly swept. 
 
 " God is great ! " said one man ; "It is the Enchanter Alma- 
 men." 
 
 " He hath locked up the manhood of Boabdil el Chico with 
 the key of his spells," quoin another, stroking his beard;"! 
 would curse him, if I dared." 
 
 " But they say that he hath promised that when man fails, 
 the genii will fight for Granada," observed the third doubtingly. 
 
 " Allah Akbar ! what is, is ! What shall be, shall be ! " said 
 a fourth, with all the solemn sagacity of a prophet. 
 
 Whatever their feelings, whether of awe or execration, terror 
 or hope, each group gave way as Almamen passed, and hushed 
 the murmurs not intended for his ear. Passing through the 
 Zacatin (the street which traversed the Great Bazaar), the 
 reputed enchanter ascended a narrow and winding street, and 
 arrived at last before the walls that encircled the palace and 
 fortress of the Alhambra. 
 
 The sentry at the gate saluted and admitted him in silence ; 
 and in a few moments his form was lost in the solitude of 
 groves, amidst which, at frequent openings, the spray of Arabian 
 fountains glittered in the moonlight ; while, above, rose the 
 castled heights of the Alhambra ; and on the right, those Ver- 
 milion Towers, whose origin veils itself in the furthest ages of 
 Phoenician enterprise. 
 
 Almamen paused, and surveyed the scene. " Was Aden 
 more lovely ? " he muttered ; " And shall so fair a spot be 
 trodden by the victor Nazarene ? What matters ? Creed 
 chases creed race, race until time comes back to its start- 
 ing-place, and beholds the reign restored to the eldest faith 
 and the eldest tribe. The horn of our strength shall be 
 exalted." 
 
 At these thoughts the seer relapsed into silence, and gazed 
 long and intently upon the stars, as, more numerous and bril- 
 liant with every step of the advancing night, their rays broke 
 on the playful waters, and tinged with silver the various and 
 breathless foliage. So earnest was his gaze, and so absorbed 
 his thoughts, that he did not perceive the approach of a Moor, 
 whose glittering weapons and snow-white turban, rich with 
 emeralds, cast a gleam through the wood. 
 
 The new comer was above the common size of his race, gen- 
 erally small and spare, but without attaining the lofty stature 
 and large proportions of the more redoubted of the warriors of 
 Spain. But in his presence and mien there was something
 
 LEILA. 7 
 
 which, in the haughtiest conclave of Christian chivalry, would 
 have seemed to tower and command. He walked with a step 
 at once light and stately, as if it spurned the earth ; and in the 
 carriage of the small, erect head and stag-like throat, there was 
 that undefinable and imposing dignity, which accords so well 
 with our conception of a heroic lineage, and a noble though 
 imperious spirit. The stranger approached Almamen, and 
 paused abruptly when within a few steps of the enchanter. 
 He gazed upon him in silence for some moments ; and, when 
 at length he spoke, it was with a cold and sarcastic tone. 
 
 " Pretender to the dark secrets," said he, " is it in the stars 
 that thou art reading those destinies of men and nations, which 
 the Prophet wrought by the chieftain's brain and the soldier's 
 arm ? " 
 
 " Prince," replied Almamen, turning slowly, and recognizing 
 the intruder on his meditations. " I was but considering how 
 many revolutions, which have shaken earth to its centre, those 
 orbs have witnessed, unsympathizing and unchanged." 
 
 " Unsympathizing ! " repeated the Moor ; " yet thou believest 
 in their effect upon the earth ? " 
 
 " You wrong me," answered Almamen, with a slight smile ; 
 " You confound your servant with that vain race, the astrolo- 
 gers." 
 
 " I deemed astrology a part of the science of the two Angels, 
 Harut and Marut." * 
 
 " Possibly ; but I know not that science, though I have wan- 
 dered at midnight by the ancient Babel." 
 
 "Fame lies to us, then," answered the Moor with some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Fame never made pretence to truth," said Almamen calmly, 
 and proceeding on his way. "Allah be with you, Prince ! I 
 seek the King." 
 
 " Stay ! I have just quitted his presence, and left him, I 
 trust, with thoughts worthy of the sovereign of Granada, which 
 I would not have disturbed by a stranger, a man whose arms 
 are not spear nor shield." 
 
 " Noble Muza," returned Almamen, " fear not that my voice 
 will weaken the inspirations which thine hath breathed into 
 the breast of Boabdil. Alas, if my counsel were heeded, thou 
 wouldst hear the warriors of Granada talk less of Muza, and 
 more of the King! But Fate, or Allah, hath placed upon the 
 
 * The science of magic. It was taught by the Angels named in the text ; for which 
 offence they are still supposed to be confined in the ancient Babel. There they may yet 
 z> consulted, though they are rarely seen. K//<j/W Yahya. SALE'S Kor*jt,
 
 8 LEILA. 
 
 throne of a tottering dynasty, one who, though brave, is weak ; 
 though wise, a dreamer ; and you suspect the adviser, when 
 you find the influence of nature on the advised. Is this just?" 
 
 Muza gazed long and sternly on the face of Almamen ; then 
 putting his hand gently on the enchanter's shoulder, he said : 
 
 " Stranger, if thou playest us false, think that this arm hath 
 cloven the casque of many a foe, and will not spare the turban 
 of a traitor ! " 
 
 " And think thou, proud Prince ! " returned Almamen, un- 
 quailing, " that I answer alone to Allah for my motives, and 
 and that against man my deeds I can defend ! " 
 
 With these words, the enchanter drew his long robe round 
 him, and disappeared amidst the foliage. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE KING WITHIN HIS PALACE. 
 
 IN one of those apartment, the luxury of which is known 
 only to the inhabitants of a genial climate (half chamber and 
 half grotto), reclined a young Moor, in a thoughtful and mus- 
 ing attitude. 
 
 The ceiling of cedar-wood, glowing with gold and azure, 
 was supported by slender shafts of the whitest alabaster, be- 
 tween which were open arcades, light and graceful as the arched 
 vineyards of Italy, and wrought in that delicate filigree-work 
 common to the Arabian architecture : through these arcades 
 was seen at intervals the lapsing fall of waters, lighted by ala- 
 baster lamps ; and their tinkling music sounded with a fresh 
 and regular murmur upon the ear. The whole of one side of 
 this apartment was open to a broad and extensive balcony 
 which overhung the banks of the winding and moonlit Darro ; 
 and in the clearness of the soft night might be distinctly seen 
 the undulating hills, the woods and orange-groves, which still 
 form the unrivalled landscapes of Granada. 
 
 The pavement was spread with ottomans and couches of the 
 richest azure, prodigally enriched with quaint designs in broid- 
 eries of gold and silver ; and over that on which the Moor 
 reclined, facing the open balcony, were suspended on a pillar 
 the round shield, the light javelin, and the curving cimiter of 
 Moorish warfare. So studded were these arms with jewels of 
 rare cost, that they might alone have sufficed to indicate the 
 rank of the evident owner, even if his own gorgeous vestments
 
 LEILA 9 
 
 had not betrayed it. An open manuscript, on a silver table, 
 lay unread before the Moor : as, leaning his face upon his hand, 
 he looked with abstracted eyes along the mountain summits, 
 dimly distinguished from the cloudless and far horizon. 
 
 No one could have gazed without a vague emotion of inter- 
 est, mixed with melancholy, upon the countenance of the 
 inmate of that luxurious chamber. 
 
 Its beauty was singularly stamped with a grave and stately 
 sadness, which was made still more impressive by its air of 
 youth and the unwonted fairness of the complexion : unlike 
 the attributes of the Moorish race, the hair and curling beard 
 were of a deep golden color ; and on the broad forehead, and 
 in the large eyes, was that settled and contemplative mildness 
 which rarely softens the swart lineaments of the fiery children 
 of the sun. Such was the personal appearance of Boabdil el 
 Chico, the last of the Moorish dynasty in Spain. 
 
 " These scrolls of Arabian learning," said Boabdil to himself, 
 " what do they teach ? To despise wealth and power, to hold 
 the heart to be the true empire. This, then, is wisdom. Yet, 
 if I follow these maxims am I wise ? Alas ! the whole world 
 would call me a driveller and a madman. Thus is it ever ; the 
 wisdom of the intellect fills us with precepts which it is the 
 wisdom of Action to despise. O holy Prophet ! what fools 
 men would be if their knavery did not eclipse their folly ! " 
 
 The young King listlessly threw himself back on his cush- 
 ions as he uttered these words, too philosophical for a king 
 whose crown sate so loosely on his brow. 
 
 After a few moments of thought that appeared to dissatisfy 
 and disquiet him, Boabdil again turned impatiently round 
 " My soul wants the bath of music," said he ; " these journeys 
 into a pathless realm have wearied it, and the streams of sound 
 supple and relax the travailed pilgrim." 
 
 He clapped his hands, and from one of the arcades a boy, 
 hitherto invisible, started into sight ; at a slight and scarce per* 
 ceptible sign from the King, the boy again vanished, and in a 
 few moments afterwards, glancing through the fairy pillars, 
 and by the glittering waterfalls, came the small and twinkling 
 feet of the maids of Araby. As, with their transparent tunics 
 and white arms, they gleamed, without an echo, through that 
 cool and voluptuous chamber, they might well have seemed 
 the Peris of the eastern magic, summoned to beguile the 
 sated leisure of a youthful Solomon. With them came a 
 maiden of more exquisite beauty, though smaller stature, than 
 the rest, bearing the light Moorish lute, and a faut and languid
 
 10 LEILA. 
 
 smile broke over the beautiful face of Boabdil, as his eyes 
 rested upon her graceful form and the dark, yet glowing lustre 
 of her oriental countenance. She alone approached the King, 
 timidly kissed his hand, and then, joining her comrades, com- 
 menced the following song, to the air and very words of which 
 the feet of the dancing-girls kept time, while with the chorus 
 rang the silver bells of the musical instrument which each of 
 the dancers carried : 
 
 AMINE'S SONG. 
 
 i. 
 
 Softly, oh, softly glide, 
 Gentle Music, thou silver tide, 
 Bearing the lull'd air along, 
 This leaf from the Rose of Song 
 
 To its port in his soul let it float, 
 
 The frail but the fragrant boat, 
 Bear it, soft Air, along ! 
 
 II. 
 
 With the burthen of sound we are laden, 
 Like the bells on the trees of Aden,* 
 When they thrill with a tinkling tone 
 At the Wind from the Holy Throne, 
 Hark, as we move around, 
 We shake off the buds of sound 
 Thy presence, Belov'd, is Aden ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Sweet chime that I hear and wake : 
 I would, for my lov'd one's sake, 
 That I were a sound like thee. 
 To the depths of his heart to flee. 
 
 If my breath had his senses blest ; 
 If my voice in his heart could rest ; 
 What pleasure to die like thee ! 
 
 The music ceased ; the dancers remained motionless in their 
 graceful postures, as if arrested into statues of alabaster ; and 
 the young songstress cast herself on a cushion at the feet of 
 the monarch, and looked up fondly, but silently, into his yet 
 melancholy eyes, when a man, whose entrance had not been 
 noticed, was seen to stand within the chamber. 
 
 He was about the middle stature, lean, muscular, and 
 strongly though sparely built. A plain black robe, something 
 in the fashion of the Armenian gown, hung long and loosely 
 over a tunic of bright scarlet, girded by a broad belt, from the 
 
 * The Mahometans believe that musical bells hang on the trees of Paradise, and arc put 
 in motion by a wind from the throne of Cod.
 
 LEILA H 
 
 centre of which was suspended a small golden key, while at 
 the left side appeared the jewelled hilt of a crooked dagger. 
 His features were cast in a larger and grander mould than was 
 common amongst the Moors of Spain ; the forehead was 
 broad, massive, and singularly high, and the dark eyes of un- 
 usual size and brilliancy ; his beard, short, black, and glossy, 
 curled upward, and concealed all the lower part of the face, 
 save a firm, compressed, and resolute expression in the lips, 
 which were large and full ; the nose was high, aquiline, and 
 well-shaped ; and the whole character of the head (which was, 
 for symmetry, on too large and gigantic a scale as proportioned 
 to the form) was indicative of extraordinary energy and power. 
 At the first glance, the stranger might have seemed scarce on 
 the borders of middle age ; but, on a more careful examina- 
 tion, the deep lines and wrinkles, marked on the forehead and 
 round the eyes, betrayed a more advanced period of life. With 
 arms folded on his breast, he stood by the side of the King, 
 waiting in silence the moment when his presence should be 
 perceived. 
 
 He did not wait long ; the eyes and gesture of the girl 
 nestled at the feet of Boabdil drew the King's attention to the 
 spot where the stranger stood : his eye brightened when it fell 
 upon him. 
 
 " Almamen," cried Boabdil eagerly, " you are welcome." 
 As he spoke, he motioned to the dancing-girls to withdraw. 
 
 " May I not rest ? O core of my heart, thy bird is in its 
 home," murmured the songstress at the King's feet. 
 
 " Sweet Amine," answered Boabdil, tenderly smoothing 
 down her ringlets as he bent to kiss her brow, " you should 
 witness only my hours of delight. Toil and business have 
 nought with thee ; I will join thee ere yet the nightingale 
 hyr,,ns his last music to the moon." Amine sighed, rose, and 
 vanished with her companions. 
 
 " My friend," said the King, when alone with Almamen, 
 " your counsels often soothe me into quiet, yet in such hours 
 quiet is a crime. But what do ? How struggle ? How act ? 
 Alas ! at the hour of his birth, rightly did they affix to the 
 name of Boabdil the epithet of / Zogoybi. * Misfortune set 
 upon my brow her dark and fated stamp ere yet my lips could 
 shape a prayer against her power. My fierce father, whose 
 frown was as the frown of Azrael, hated me in my cradle ; in 
 my youth my name was invoked by rebels against my will ; 
 imprisoned by my father, with the poison-bowl or the dagger 
 
 * The unlucky.
 
 12 LEILA. 
 
 hourly before my eyes, I was saved only by the artifice of my 
 mother. When age and infirmity broke the iron sceptre of the 
 King, my claims to the throne were set aside, and my uncle, 
 El Zagal, usurped my birthright. Amidst open war and secret 
 treason I wrestled for my crown ; and now, the sole sovereign 
 of Granada, when, as I fondly imagined, my uncle had lost all 
 claim on the affections of my people by succumbing to the 
 Christian King, and accepting a fief under his dominion, I find 
 that the very crime of El Zagal is fixed upon me by my un- 
 hapy subjects that they deem he would not have yielded but 
 for my supineness. At the moment of my delivery from my 
 rival, I am received with execration by my subjects, and, driven 
 into this my fortress of the Alhambra, dare not venture to 
 head my armies, or to face my people ; yet am I called weak 
 and irresolute, when strength and courage are forbid me. And 
 as the water glides from yonder rock, that hath no power to 
 retain it, I see the tide of empire welling from my hands." 
 
 The young King spoke warmly and bitterly; and, in the 
 irritation of his thoughts, strode, while he spoke, with rapid 
 and irregular strides along the chamber. Almamen marked 
 his emotion with an eye and lip of rigid composure. 
 
 " Light of the faithful," said he, when Boabdil had concluded, 
 " the powers above never doom man to perpetual sorrow, nor 
 perpetual joy : the cloud and the sunshine are alike essential 
 to the heaven of our destinies ; and if thou hast suffered in 
 thy youth, thou hast exhausted the calamities of fate, and thy 
 manhood will be glorious, and thine age serene." 
 
 "Thou speakest as if the armies of Ferdinand were not 
 already around my walls," said Boabdil impatiently. 
 
 " The armies of Sennacherib were as mighty," answered 
 Almamen. 
 
 "Wise seer," returned the King, in a tone half sarcastic and 
 half solemn, "we, the Mussulmen of Spain, are not the blind 
 fanatics of the Eastern world. On us have fallen the lights 
 of philosophy and science ; and if the more clear-sighted 
 among us yet outwardly reverence the forms and fables wor- 
 shipped by the multitude, it is from the wisdom of policy, not 
 the folly of belief. Talk not to me, then, of thine examples of 
 the ancient and elder creeds : the agents of God for this world 
 are now, at least, in men, not angels ; and if I wait till Fer- 
 dinand share the destiny of Sennacherib, I wait only till the 
 Standard of the Cross wave above the Vermilion Towers." 
 
 "Yet," said Almamen, "while my lord the King rejects the 
 fanaticism of belief, doth he reject the fanaticism of persecu-
 
 LEILA. 13 
 
 tion ? You disbelieve the stories of the Hebrews ; yet you 
 surfer the Hebrews themselves, that ancient and kindred Ara- 
 bian race, to be ground to the dust, condemned and tortured 
 by your judges, your informers, your soldiers, and your sub- 
 jects." 
 
 " The base misers ! they deserve their fate," answered 
 Boabdil loftily. " Gold is their god, and the market-place 
 their country ; amidst the tears and groans of nations, they 
 sympathize only with the rise and fall of trade ; and, the 
 thieves of the universe ! while their hand is against every 
 man's coffer, why wonder that they provoke the hand of every 
 man against their throats ? Worse than the tribe of Hanifa, 
 who eat their god only in time of famine,* the race of Moisaf 
 would sell the Seven Heavens for the dent J on the back of the 
 date stone." 
 
 "Your laws leave them no ambition but that of avarice," 
 replied Almamen ; '* and as the plant will crook and distort 
 its trunk, to raise its head through every obstacle to the sun, 
 so the mind of man twists and perverts itself, if legitimate open- 
 ings are denied it, to find its natural element in the gale of 
 power, or the sunshine of esteem. These Hebrews were not 
 traffickers and misers in their own sacred land when they routed 
 your ancestors, the Arab armies of old ; and gnawed the flesh 
 from their bones in famine, rather than yield a weaker city 
 than Granada to a mightier force than the holiday lords of 
 Spain. Let this pass. My lord rejects the belief in the agen- 
 cies of the angels ; doth he still retain belief in the wisdom of 
 mortal men ?" 
 
 "Yes !" returned Boabdil quickly ; "for of the one I know 
 nought ; of the other, mine own senses can be the judge. 
 Almamen, my fiery kinsman, Muza, hath this evening been 
 with me. He hath urged me to reject the fears of my people, 
 which chain my panting spirit within these walls ; he hath 
 urged me to gird on yonder shield and cimiter, and to appear 
 in the Vivarrambla, at the head of the nobles of Granada. My 
 heart leaps high at the thought ! And if I cannot live, at least 
 I will die a King ! " 
 
 " It is nobly spoken," said Almamen coldly. 
 
 "You approve, then, my design?" 
 
 "The friends of the King cannot approve the ambition of 
 the King to die." 
 
 * The tribe of Hanifa worshipped a lump of dough. 
 
 t Moisa, Moses. 
 
 $ A proverb used in the Koran, signifying the smallest possible trifle.
 
 14 LEILA. 
 
 "Ha! "said Boabdil in an altered voice, "thou thinkest, 
 then, that I am doomed to perish in this struggle?" 
 
 "As the hour shall be chosen, wilt thou fall or triumph." 
 
 "And that hour?" 
 
 " Is not yet come." 
 
 " Dost thou read the hour in the stars?" 
 
 " Let Moorish seers cultivate that frantic credulity : thy ser- 
 vant sees but in the stars worlds mightier than this little earth, 
 whose light would neither wane nor wink, if earth itself were 
 swept from the infinities of space." 
 
 "Mysterious man!" said Boabdil; whence, then, is thy 
 power? Whence thy knowledge of the future?" 
 
 Almamen approached the King, as he now stood by the 
 balcony. 
 
 "Behold!" said he, pointing to the waters of the Darro 
 "yonder stream is of an element in which man cannot live nor 
 breathe : above, in the thin and impalpable air, our steps can- 
 not find a footing, the armies of all earth cannot build an em- 
 pire. And yet, by the exercise of a little art, the fishes and 
 the birds, the inhabitants of the air and the water, minister to 
 our most humble wants, the most common of our enjoyments ; 
 so it is with the true science of enchantment. Thinkest thou 
 that, while the petty surface of the world is crowded with living 
 things, there is no life in the vast centre within the earth, and 
 the immense ether that surrounds it? As the fisherman snares 
 his prey, as the fowler entraps the bird, so, by the art and genius 
 of our human mind, we may thrall and command the subtler 
 beings of realms and elements which our material bodies can- 
 not enter, our gross senses cannot survey. This, then, is my 
 lore. Of other worlds know I nought ; but of the things of 
 this world, whether men, or, as your legends term them, 
 ghouls and genii, I have learned something. To the future, 
 I myself am blind ; but I can invoke and conjure up 
 those whose eyes are more piercing, whose natures are more 
 gifted." 
 
 " Prove to me thy power," said Boabdil, awed less by the 
 words than by the thrilling voice and the impressive aspect of 
 the enchanter. 
 
 " Is not the King's will my law? " answered Almamen ; " be 
 his will obeyed. To-morrow night I await thee." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 Almamen paused a moment, and then whispered a sentence 
 in the King's ear : Boabdil started, and turned pale. 
 
 " A fearful spot ! "
 
 LEILA. 15 
 
 "So is the Alhambra itself, great Boabdil ; while Ferdinand 
 is without the walls, and Muza within the city." 
 
 " Muza ! Darest thou mistrust my bravest warrior ? " 
 
 " What wise King will trust the idol of the King's army ? 
 Did Boabdil fall to-morrow, by a chance javelin, in the field, 
 whom would the nobles and the warriors place upon his throne ? 
 Doth it require an enchanter's lore to whisper to thy heart the 
 answer, in the name of ' Muza ' ? " 
 
 " Oh, wretched state ! oh, miserable King ! " exclaimed Boab- 
 dil, in a tone of great anguish. " I never had a father ; I have 
 now no people ; a little while, and I shall have no country. 
 Am I never to have a friend ? " 
 
 "A friend! What king ever had?" returned Almamen 
 dryly. 
 
 " Away, man away ! " cried Boabdil, as the impatient spirit 
 of his rank and race shot dangerous fire from his eyes ; "your 
 cold and bloodless wisdom freezes up all the veins of my man- 
 hood ! Glory, confidence, human sympathy, and feeling 
 your counsels annihilate them all. Leave me ! I would be 
 alone." 
 
 " We meet to-morrow, at midnight, mighty Boabdil," said 
 Almamen, with his usual unmoved and passionless tones. 
 " May the King live forever ! " 
 
 The King turned ; but his monitor had already disappeared. 
 He went as he came noiseless and sudden as a ghost. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE LOVERS. 
 
 WHEN Muza parted from Almamen, he bent his steps 
 towards the hill that rises opposite the ascent crowned with the 
 towers of the Alhambra ; the sides and summit of which emi- 
 nence were tenanted by the luxurious population of the city. 
 He selected the more private and secluded paths; and, half 
 way up the hill, arrived, at last, before a low wall of consider- 
 able extent, which girded the gardens of some wealthier 
 inhabitant of the city. He looked long and anxiously round : 
 all was solitary ; nor was the stillness broken, save as an occa- 
 sional breeze, from the snowy heights of the Sierra Nevada, 
 rustled the fragrant leaves of the citron and pomegranate ; or 
 as the silver tinkling of waterfalls chimed melodiously within 
 the gardens. The Moor's heart beat high : a moment more, 
 and he had scaled the wall, and found himself upon a green
 
 l6 LEILA. 
 
 sward, variegated by the rich colors of many a sleeping flower, 
 and shaded by groves and alleys of luxuriant foliage and golden 
 fruits. 
 
 It was not long before he stood beside a house that seemed 
 of a construction anterior to the Moorish dynasty. It was 
 built over low cloisters, formed by heavy and time-worn 
 pillars, concealed, for the most part, by a profusion of roses 
 and creeping shrubs : the lattices above the cloisters opened 
 upon large gilded balconies, the super-addition of Moriscan 
 taste. In one only of the casements a lamp was visible ; the 
 rest of the mansion was dark, as if, save in that chamber, 
 sleep kept watch over the inmates. It was to this window 
 that the Moor stole ; and, after a moment's pause, he mur- 
 mured rather than sung, so low and whispered was his voice, 
 the following simple verses, slightly varied from an old 
 Arabian poet : 
 
 SERENADE. 
 
 Light of my soul, arise, arise ! 
 Thy sister lights are in the skies ; 
 
 We want thine eyes, 
 
 Thy joyous eyes ; 
 
 The Night is mourning for thine eyes ! 
 The sacred verse is on my sword, 
 But on my heart thy name : 
 The words on each alike adored ; 
 The truth of each the same 
 The same ! alas ! too well I feel 
 The heart is truer than the steel ! 
 
 Light of my soul ! upon me shine ; 
 Night wakes her stars to envy mine. 
 
 Those eyes of thine, 
 
 Wild eyes of thine, 
 What stars are like those eyes of thine ? 
 
 As he concluded, the lattice softly opened ; and a female 
 form appeared on the balcony. 
 
 " Ah, Leila ! " said the Moor, " I see thee, and I am 
 blessed ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " answered Leila ; " speak low, nor tarry long : I 
 fear that our interviews are suspected ; and this (she added, 
 in a trembling voice) may perhaps be the last time we shall 
 meet." 
 
 " Holy Prophet ! " exclaimed Muza passionately, " what do 
 I hear ? Why this mystery ? Why cannot I learn thine 
 origin, thy rank, thy parents ? Think you, beautiful Leila, 
 that Granada holds a house lofty enough to disdain the
 
 LEILA. ij 
 
 alliance with Muza Ben Abil Gazan ? And oh ! " he added, 
 (sinking the haughty tones of his voice into accents of the 
 softest tenderness), '* if not too high to scorn me, what should 
 war against our loves and our bridals ? For worn equally on 
 my heart were the flower of thy sweet self, whether the moun- 
 tain top or the valley gave birth to the odor and the bloom." 
 
 " Alas ! " answered Leila, weeping, " the mystery thou corn- 
 plainest of is as dark to myself as thee. How often have I 
 told thee that I know nothing of my birth or childish fortunes, 
 save a dim memory of a more distant and burning clime ; 
 where, amidst sands and wastes, springs the everlasting cedar, 
 and the camel grazes on stunted herbage withering in the 
 fiery air. Then, it seemed to me that I had a mother : fond 
 eyes looked on me, and soft songs hushed me into sleep." 
 
 "Thy mother's soul has passed into mine," said the Moor 
 tenderly. 
 
 Leila continued : "Borne hither, I passed from childhood 
 into youth within these walls. Slaves minister to my slightest 
 wish ; and those who have seen both state and poverty, which 
 I have not, tell me that treasures and splendor, that might 
 giad a monarch,, are prodigalized around me : but of ties and 
 kindred know I little : my father, a stern and silent man, 
 visits me but rarely sometimes months pass, and I see him 
 not ; but I feel he loves me ; and, till I know thee, Muza, my 
 brightest hours were in listening to the footsteps and flying to 
 the arms of that solitary friend." 
 
 " Know you not his name ?" 
 
 " Nor I, nor any one of the houshold ; save perhaps Ximen, 
 the chief of the slaves, an old and withered man, whose very 
 eye chills me into fear and silence." 
 
 "Strange!" said the Moor musingly; "yet why think you 
 our love is discovered, or can be thwarted ?" 
 
 "Hush! Ximen sought me this day : 'Maiden,' said he, 
 'men's footsteps have been tracked within the gardens; if your 
 sire know this, you will have looked your last on Granada. 
 Learn,' he added (in a softer voice, as he saw me tremble), 
 ' that permission were easier given to thee to wed the wild 
 tiger, than to mate with the loftiest noble of Morisca ! Be- 
 ware ! ' He spoke, and left me. O Muza ! (she continued, 
 passionately wringing her hands), my heart sinks within me, 
 and omen and doom rise dark before my sight ! " 
 
 " By my father's head, these obstacles but fire my love ; and 
 I would scale to thy possession, though every step in the ladder 
 were the corpses of a hundred foes ! "
 
 l8 LEILA. 
 
 Scarcely had the fiery and high-souled Moor uttered his 
 boast, than, from some unseen hand amidst the groves, a jave- 
 lin whirred past him, and, as the air it raised came sharp upon 
 his cheek, half buried its quivering shaft in the trunk of a tree 
 behind him. 
 
 "Fly, fly, and save thyself! O God, protect him!" cried 
 Leila ; and she vanished within the chamber. 
 
 The Moor did not wait the result of a deadlier aim ; he 
 turned ; yet, in the instinct of his fierce nature, not from, but 
 against, the foe ; his drawn cimiter in his hand, the half-sup- 
 pressed cry of wrath trembling on his lips, he sprang forward 
 in the direction whence the javelin had sped. With eyes ac- 
 customed to the ambuscades of Moorish warfare, he searched 
 eagerly, yet warily, through the dark and sighing foliage. No 
 sign of life met his gaze ; and at length, grimly and reluctantly, 
 he retraced his steps, and quitted the demesnes : but, just as 
 he had cleared the wall, a voice low, but sharp and shrill 
 came from the gardens. 
 
 " Thou art spared," it said, " but, haply, for a more miserable 
 doom ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 THE chamber into which Leila retreated bore out the char- 
 acter she had given of the interior of her home. The fashion 
 of its ornament and decoration was foreign to that adopted by 
 the Moors of Granada. It had a more massive and, if we may 
 use the term, Egyptian gorgeousness. The walls were covered 
 with the stuffs of the East, stiff with gold, embroidered upon 
 ground of the deepest purple ; strange characters, apparently 
 in some foreign tongue, were wrought in the tesselated cornices 
 and on the heavy ceiling, which was supported by square pillars, 
 round which were twisted serpents of gold and enamel, with 
 eyes to which enormous emeralds gave a green and lifelike 
 glare : various scrolls and musical instruments lay scattered 
 upon marble tables : and a solitary lamp of burnished silver 
 cast a dim and subdued light around the chamber. The effect 
 of the whole, though splendid, was gloomy, strange, and oppres- 
 sive, and rather suited to the thick and cavelike architecture 
 which of old protected the inhabitants of Thebes and Memphis 
 from the rays of the African sun, than to the transparent heaven 
 nd light pavilions of the graceful orientals of Granada.
 
 LEILA. 19 
 
 Leila stood within this chamber, pale and breathless, with 
 her lips apart, her hands clasped, her very soul in her ears ; 
 nor was it possible to conceive a more perfect ideal of some 
 delicate and brilliant Peri, captured in the palace of a hostile 
 and gloomy Genius. Her form was of the lightest shape con- 
 sistent with the roundness of womanly beauty ; and there was 
 something in it of that elastic and fawnlike grace which a 
 sculptor seeks to embody in his dreams of a being more aerial 
 than those of earth. Her luxuriant hair was dark indeed, but 
 a purple and glossy hue redeemed it from that heaviness of 
 shade too common in the tresses of the Asiatics ; and her com- 
 plexion, naturally pale, but clear and lustrous, would have been 
 deemed fair even in the North. Her features, slightly aquiline, 
 were formed in the rarest mould of symmetry, and her full, 
 rich lips disclosed teeth that might have shamed the pearl. 
 But the chief charm of that exquisite countenance was in an 
 expression of softness and purity, and intellectual sentiment, 
 that seldom accompanies that cast of loveliness, and was wholly 
 foreign to the voluptuous and dreamy languor of Moorish 
 maidens ; Leila had been educated, and the statue had received 
 a soul. 
 
 After a few minutes of intense suspense, she again stole to 
 the lattice, gently unclosed it, and looked forth. Far, through 
 an opening amidst the trees, she descried for a single moment 
 the erect and stately figure of her lover, darkening the moon- 
 shine on the sward, as now, quitting his fruitless search, he 
 turned his lingering gaze towards the lattice of his beloved ; 
 the thick and interlacing foliage quickly hid him from her 
 eyes ; but Leila had seen enough she turned within, and said, 
 as grateful tears trickled down her cheeks, and she sank on her 
 knees upon the piled cushions of the chamber : "God of my 
 fathers ! I bless thee he is safe ! " 
 
 " And yet (she added, as a painful thought crossed her), 
 how may I pray for him? We kneel not to the same divinity ; 
 and I have been taught to loathe and shudder at his creed ! 
 Alas ! How will this end ? Fatal was the hour when he first 
 beheld me in yonder gardens ; more fatal still the hour in 
 which he crossed the barrier, and told Leila that she was be- 
 loved by the hero whose arm was the shelter, whose name is 
 the blessing, of Granada. Ah, me ! Ah, me ! " 
 
 The young maiden covered her face with her hands, and 
 sunk into a passionate revery, broken only by her sobs. Some 
 time had passed in this undisturbed indulgence of her grief, 
 when the arras was gently put aside, and a man of remarkable
 
 2O LEILA. 
 
 garb and mien advanced into the chamber, pausing as he beheld 
 her dejected attitude, and gazing on her with a look in which 
 pity and tenderness seemed to struggle against habitual severity 
 and sternness. 
 
 " Leila ! " said the intruder. 
 
 Leila started, and a deep blush suffused her countenance ; she 
 dashed the tears from her eyes, and came forward with a vain 
 attempt to smile. 
 
 " My father, welcome ! " 
 
 The stranger seated himself on the cushions, and motioned 
 Leila to his side. 
 
 " These tears are fresh upon thy cheek," said he gravely ; 
 " they are the witness of thy race ! Our daughters are born 
 to weep, and our sons to groan ! Ashes are on the head of 
 the mighty, and the Fountains of the Beautiful run with gall ! 
 Oh, that we could but struggle ; that we could but dare ; 
 that we could raise up our heads, and unite against the bond- 
 age of the evil doer ! It may not be but one man shall avenge 
 a nation ! " 
 
 The dark face of Leila's father, well fitted to express power- 
 ful emotion, became terrible in its wrath and passion ; his brow 
 and lip worked convulsively ; but the paroxysm was brief ; 
 and scarce could she shudder at its intensity, ere it had sub- 
 sided into calm. 
 
 " Enough of these thoughts, which thou, a woman and a 
 child, art not formed to witness. Leila, thou hast been nur- 
 tured with tenderness, and schooled with care. Harsh and 
 unloving may I have seemed to thee, but I would have shed the 
 best drops of my heart to have saved thy young years from a 
 single pang. Nay, listen to me, silently. That thou mightest 
 one day be worthy of thy race, and that thine hours might not 
 pass in indolent and weary lassitude, thou hast been taught the 
 lessons of a knowledge rarely given to thy sex. Not thine the 
 lascivious arts of the Moorish maidens ; not thine their harlot 
 songs, and their dances of lewd delight ; thy delicate limbs 
 were but taught the attitude that Nature dedicates to the wor- 
 ship of a God, and the music of thy voice was tuned to the 
 songs of thy fallen country, sad with the memory of her wrongs, 
 animated with the names of her heroes, holy with the solemnity 
 of her prayers. These scrolls and the lessons of our seers have 
 imparted to thee such of our science and our history as may 
 fit thy mind to aspire, and thy heart to feel for a sacred cause. 
 Thou listenest to me, Leila ? " 
 
 Perplexed and wondering, for never before had her father
 
 LEILA. 21 
 
 addressed her in such a strain, the maiden answered with an 
 earnestness of manner that seemed to content the questioner ; 
 and he resumed, with an altered, hollow, solemn voice : 
 
 " Then curse the persecutors ! Daughter of the great 
 Hebrew race, arise and curse the Moorish taskmaster and 
 spoiler ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the adjuror himself rose, lifting his right hand 
 on high, while his left touched the shoulder of the maiden. 
 But she, after gazing a moment in wild and terrified amaze- 
 ment upon his face, fell cowering at his knees ; and clasping 
 them, imploringly exclaimed, in scarce articulate murmurs : 
 
 " Oh, spare me ! spare me ! " 
 
 The Hebrew, for such he was, surveyed her, as she thus 
 quailed at his feet, with a look of rage and scorn : his hand 
 wandered to his poniard, he half unsheathed it, thrust it back 
 with a muttered curse, and then, deliberately drawing it forth, 
 cast it on the ground beside her. 
 
 " Degenerate girl ! " he said, in accents that vainly struggled 
 for calm, " if thou hast admitted to thy heart one unworthy 
 thought towards a Moorish infidel, dig deep and root it out, 
 even with the knife, and to the death so wilt thou save this 
 hand from that degrading task." 
 
 He drew himself hastily from her grasp, and left the unfor- 
 tunate girl alone and senseless. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AMBITION DISTORTED INTO VICE BY LAW. 
 
 ON descending a broad flight of stairs from the apartment, 
 the Hebrew encountered an old man habited in loose garments 
 of silk and fur, upon whose withered and wrinkled face life 
 seemed scarcely to struggle against the advance of death, so 
 haggard, wan, and corpse-like, was its aspect. 
 
 " Ximen," said the Israelite, "trusty and beloved servant, 
 follow me to the cavern." He did not tarry for an answer, but 
 continued his way with rapid strides, through various courts 
 and alleys, till he came at length into a narrow, dark, and damp 
 gallery, that seemed cut from the living rock. At its entrance 
 was a strong grate, which gave way to the Hebrew's touch 
 upon the spring, though the united strength of a hundred men 
 could not have moved it from its hinge. Taking up a brazen 
 lamp that burnt in a niche within it, the Hebrew paused im-
 
 24 LEILA 
 
 patiently till the feeble steps of the old man reached the spot ; 
 and then, reclosing the grate, pursued his winding way for a 
 considerable distance, till he stopped suddenly by a part of the 
 rock which seemed in no respect different from the rest ; and 
 so artfully contrived and concealed was the door which he now 
 opened, and so suddenly did it yield to his hand, that it ap- 
 peared literally the effect of enchantment, when the rock 
 yawned, and discovered a circular cavern, lighted with brazen 
 lamps, and spread with hangings and cushions of thick furs. 
 Upon rude and seemingly natural pillars of rock, various 
 antique and rusty arms were suspended ; in large niches were 
 deposited scrolls, clasped and bound with iron ; and a pro- 
 fusion of strange and uncouth instruments and machines (in 
 which modern science might, perhaps, discover the tools of 
 chemical invention) gave a magical and ominous aspect to the 
 wild abode. 
 
 The Hebrew cast himself on a couch of furs ; and, as the 
 old man entered and closed the door : " Ximen," said he, " fill 
 out wine it is a soothing counsellor, and I need it." 
 
 Extracting from one of the recesses of the cavern a flask and 
 goblet, Ximen proffered to his lord a copious draught of the 
 sparkling vintage of the Vega, which seemed to invigorate and 
 restore him. 
 
 "Old man," said he, concluding the potation with a deep- 
 drawn sigh, " fill to thyself drink till thy veins feel young." 
 
 Ximen obeyed the mandate but imperfectly ; the wine just 
 touched his lips, and the goblet was put aside. 
 
 " Ximen," resumed the Israelite, " how many of our race have 
 been butchered by the avarice of the Moorish kings, since first 
 thou didst set foot within the city ! " 
 
 " Three thousand the number was completed last winter, 
 by the order of Jusef, the vizier ; and their goods and coffers 
 are transformed into shafts and cimiters, against the dogs of 
 Galilee." 
 
 " Three thousand no more ! Three thousand only ! I 
 would the number had been tripled, for the interest is becom- 
 ing due ! " 
 
 " My brother, and my son, and my grandson, are among the 
 number," said the old man, and his face grew yet more death- 
 like. 
 
 " Their monuments shall be in hecatombs of their tyrants. 
 They shall not, at least, call the Jews niggards in revenge." 
 
 " But pardon me, noble chief of a fallen people ; thinkest 
 thou we shall be less despoiled and trodden under foot by yon
 
 LEILA. 33 
 
 haughty and stiff-necked Nazarenes, than by the Arabian mis- 
 believers ? " 
 
 " Accursed, in truth, are both," returned the Hebrew ; "but 
 the one promise more fairly than the other. I have seen this 
 Ferdinand, and his proud Queen ; they are pledged to accord 
 us rights and immunities we have never known before in 
 Europe." 
 
 "And they will not touch our traffic, our gains, our gold?" 
 
 " Out on thee !" cried the fiery Israelite, stamping on the 
 ground. " I would all the gold of earth were sunk into the 
 everlasting pit ! It is this mean, and miserable, and loath- 
 some leprosy of avarice, that gnaws away from our whole race 
 the heart, the soul, nay, the very form, of man ! Many a time, 
 when I have seen the lordly features of the descendants of 
 Solomon and Joshua (features that stamp the nobility of the 
 Eastern world born to mastery and command) sharpened and 
 furrowed by petty cares ; when I have looked upon the frame 
 of the strong man bowed, like a crawling reptile, to some huck- 
 stering bargainer of silks and unguents, and heard the voice, 
 that should be raising the battle-cry, smoothed into fawning 
 accents of base fear, or yet baser hope, I have asked myself, if 
 I am indeed of the blood of Israel ! and thanked the great 
 Jehovah, that he hath spared me, at least, the curse that hath 
 blasted my brotherhood into usurers and slaves ! " 
 
 Ximen prudently forbore an answer to enthusiasm which he 
 neither shared nor understood ; but, after a brief silence, 
 turned back the stream of the conversation. 
 
 " You resolve, then, upon prosecuting vengeance on the 
 Moors, at whatsoever hazard of the broken faith of these 
 Nazarenes ?" 
 
 "Ay, the vapor of human blood hath risen unto heaven, and, 
 collected into thunder-clouds, hangs over the doomed and 
 guilty city. And now, Ximen, I have a new cause for hatred 
 to the Moors : the flower that I have reared and watched, the 
 spoiler hath sought to pluck it from my hearth. Leila thou 
 hast guarded her ill, Ximen ; and, wert thou not endeared to 
 me by thy very malice and vices, the rising sun should have 
 seen thy trunk on the waters of the Darro." 
 
 " My lord," replied Ximen, " if thou, the wisest of our 
 people, canst not guard a maiden from love, how canst thou 
 see crime in the dull eyes and numbed senses of a miserable 
 old man ? " 
 
 The Israelite did not answer, nor seem to hear this depreca- 
 tory remonstrance. He appeared rather occupied with his own
 
 24 LEILA, 
 
 thoughts; and, speaking to himself, he muttered : "It must be 
 so : the sacrifice is hard the danger great ; but here, at least, 
 it is more immediate. It shall be done. Ximen," he con- 
 tinued, speaking aloud ; " dost thou feel assured that even mine 
 own countrymen, mine own tribe, know me not as one of them ? 
 Were my despised birth and religion published, my limbs 
 would be torn asunder as an impostor ; and all the arts of the 
 Cabala could not save me." 
 
 " Doubt not, great master ; none in Granada, save thy faith- 
 ful Ximen, know thy secret." 
 
 "So let me dream and hope. And now to my work ; for 
 this night must be spent in toil." 
 
 The Hebrew drew before him some of the strange instru- 
 ments we have described ; and took from the recesses in the 
 rock several scrolls. The old man lay at his feet, ready to 
 obey his behests ; but, to all appearance, rigid and motionless 
 as the dead, whom his blanched hues and shrivelled form 
 resembled. It was, indeed, as the picture of the enchanter at 
 his work, and the corpse of some man of old. revived from the 
 grave to minister to his spells, and execute his commands. 
 
 Enough in the preceding conversation has transpired to con- 
 vince the reader that the Hebrew, in whom he has already 
 detected the Almamen of the Alhambra, was of no character 
 common to his tribe. Of a lineage that shrouded itself in the 
 darkness of his mysterious people, in their day of power, and 
 possessed of immense wealth, which threw into poverty the 
 resources of Gothic princes, the youth of that remarkable man 
 had been spent, not in traffic and merchandise, but travel and 
 study. 
 
 As a child, his home had been in Granada. He had seen 
 his father butchered by the late King, Muley Abul Hassan, 
 without other crime than his reputed riches ; and his body 
 literally cut open, to search for the jewels it was supposed he 
 had swallowed. He saw ; and, boy as he was, he vowed 
 revenge. A distant kinsman bore the orphan to lands more 
 secure from persecution ; and the art with which the Jews 
 concealed their wealth, scattering it over various cities, had 
 secured to Almamen the treasures the tyrant of Granada had 
 failed to grasp. 
 
 He had visited the greater part of the world then known ; 
 and resided for many years in the court of the Sultan of that 
 hoary Egypt, which still retained its fame for abstruse science 
 and magic lore. He had not in vain applied himself to such 
 tempting and wild researches ; and had acquired many of those
 
 LEILA. j 
 
 secrets, now perhaps lost forever to the world. We do not 
 mean to intimate that he attained to what legend and supersti- 
 tion impose upon our faith as the art of sorcery. He could 
 neither command the elements, nor pierce the veil of the future ; 
 scatter armies with a word, nor pass from spot to spot by the 
 utterance of a charmed formula. But men who, for ages, had 
 passed their lives in attempting all the effects that can aston- 
 ish and awe the vulgar, could not but learn some secrets which 
 all the more sober wisdom of modern times would search 
 ineffectually to solve or to revive. And many of such arts, 
 acquired mechanically (their invention often the work of a 
 chemical accident), those who attained to them could not 
 always explain, nor account for the phenomena they created, 
 so that the mightiness of their own deceptions deceived them- 
 selves ; and they often believed they were the masters of the 
 Nature to which they were, in reality, but erratic and wild dis- 
 ciples. Of such was the student in that grim cavern. He was, 
 in some measure, the dupe, partly of his own bewildered wis- 
 dom, partly of the fervor of an imagination exceedingly high- 
 wrought and enthusiastic. His own gorgeous vanity intoxi- 
 cated him : and, if it be an historical truth that the kings of 
 the ancient world, blinded by their own power, had moments 
 in which they believed themselves more than men, it is not 
 incredible that sages, elevated even above kings, should con- 
 ceive a frenzy as weak, or, it may be, as sublime ; and imagine 
 that they did not claim, in vain, the awful dignity with which 
 the faith of the multitude invested their faculties and gifts. 
 
 But, though the accident of birth, which excluded him from 
 all field for energy and ambition, had thus directed the power- 
 ful mind of Almamen to contemplation and study, nature had 
 never intended passions so fierce for the calm, though visionary, 
 pursuits to which he was addicted. Amidst scrolls and seers, he 
 had pined for action and glory ; and, baffled in all wholesome 
 egress by the universal exclusion which, in every land, and 
 from every faith, met the religion he belonged to, the faculties 
 within him ran riot, producing gigantic, but baseless, schemes, 
 which, as one after the other crumbled away, left behind feel- 
 ings of dark misanthropy and intense revenge. 
 
 Perhaps, had his religion been prosperous and powerful, he 
 might have been a sceptic ; persecution and affliction made 
 him a fanatic. Yet, true to that prominent characteristic of 
 the old Hebrew race, which made them look to a Messiah only 
 as a warrior and a prince, and which taught them to associate 
 all their hopes and schemes with worldly victories and power,
 
 26 LEILA 
 
 Almamen desired rather to advance, than to obey, his religion. 
 He cared little for its precepts, he thought little of its doc- 
 trines ; but, night and day, he revolved his schemes for its 
 earthly restoration and triumph. 
 
 At that time, the Moors in Spain were far more deadly per- 
 secutors of the Jews than the Christians were. Amidst the 
 Spanish cities on the coast, that merchant tribe had formed 
 commercial connections with the Christians, sufficiently bene- 
 ficial, both to individuals as to communities, to obtain for 
 them, not only toleration, but something of personal friendship, 
 wherever men bought and sold in the market-place. And the 
 gloomy fanaticism which afterwards stained the fame of the 
 great Ferdinand, and introduced the horrors of the Inquisition, 
 had not yet made itself more than fitfully visible. But the 
 Moors had treated this unhappy people with a wholesale and 
 relentless barbarity. At Granada, under the reign of the fierce 
 father of Boabdil, " that king with the tiger heart," the Jews 
 had been literally placed without the pale of humanity ; and 
 even under the mild and contemplative Boabdil himself, they 
 had been plundered without mercy, and, if suspected of secret- 
 ing their treasures, massacred without scruple ; the wants of 
 the state continued their unrelenting accusers their wealth, 
 their inexpiable crime. 
 
 It was in the midst of these barbarities that Almamen, for 
 the first time since the day when the death-shriek of his ago- 
 nized father rang in his ears, suddenly returned to Granada. 
 He saw the unmitigated miseries of his brethren, and he remem- 
 bered and repeated his vow. His name changed, his kindred 
 dead, none remembered, in the mature Almamen, the beardless 
 child of Issachar, the Jew. He had long, indeed, deemed it 
 advisable to disguise his faith ; and was known throughout the 
 African kingdoms, but as the potent santon, or the wise ma- 
 gician. 
 
 This fame soon lifted him in Granada high in the councils 
 of the court. Admitted to the intimacy of Muley Hassan, 
 with Boabdil, and the Queen Mother, he had conspired against 
 that monarch ; and had lived, at least, to avenge his father 
 upon the royal murderer. He was no less intimate with Boab- 
 dil ; but, steeled against fellowship or affection for all men out 
 of the pale of his faith, he saw, in the confidence of the King, 
 only the blindness of a victim. 
 
 Serpent as he was, he cared not through what mire of treach- 
 ery and fraud he trailed his baleful folds, so that, at last, he 
 could spring upon his prey. Nature had given him sagacity
 
 LELIA. 27 
 
 and strength. The curse of circumstance had humbled, but 
 reconciled him to the dust. He had the crawl of the reptile ; 
 he had, also, its poison and its fangs. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE LION IN THE NET. 
 
 IT was the next night, not long before daybreak, that the 
 King of Granada abruptly summoned to his council Jusef, hi 
 Vizier. The old man found Boabdil in great disorder and 
 excitement ; but he almost deemed his sovereign mad, vvhei 
 he received from him the order to seize upon the person o' 
 Muza Ben Abil Gazan, and to lodge him in the strongest dungeor 
 of the Vermilion Tower. Presuming upon Boabdil's natura' 
 mildness, the Vizier ventured to remonstrate ; to suggest the 
 danger of laying violent hands upon a chief so beloved, and to 
 inquire what cause should be assigned for the outrage. 
 
 The veins swelled like cords upon Boabdil's brow, as he 
 listened to the Vizier ; and his answer was short and peremp- 
 tory. 
 
 " Am I yet a King, that I should fear a subject, or excuse 
 my will ? Thou hast my orders ; there are my signet and the 
 firman : obedience, or the bow-string ! " 
 
 Never before had Boabdil so resembled his dread father in 
 speech and air ; the Vizier trembled to the soles of his feet, 
 and withdrew in silence. Boabdil watched him depart ; and 
 then, clasping his hands in great emotion, exclaimed : " O lips 
 of the dead ! ye have warned me ; and to you I sacrifice the 
 friend of my youth." 
 
 On quitting Boabdil, the Vizier, taking with him some of 
 those foreign slaves of a seraglio, who know no sympathy with 
 human passion outside its walls, bent his way to the palace of 
 Muza, sorely puzzled and perplexed. He did not, however, 
 like to venture upon the hazard of the alarm it might occa- 
 sion throughout the neighborhood, if he endeavored at so un- 
 seasonable an hour, to force an entrance. He resolved, rather, 
 with his train, to wait at a little distance, till, with the growing 
 dawn, the gates should be unclosed, and the inmates of the 
 palace astir. 
 
 Accordingly, cursing his stars, and wondering at his mission, 
 Jusef and his silent and ominous attendants concealed them- 
 selves in a small copse adjoining the palace, until the daylight
 
 28 LEILA. 
 
 fairly broke over the awakened city. He then passed into the 
 palace ; and was conducted to a hall, where he found the re- 
 nowned Moslem already astir, and conferring with some Zegri 
 captains upon the tactics of a sortie designed for that day. 
 
 It was with so evident a reluctance and apprehension that 
 Jusef approached the Prince, that the fierce and quick-sighted 
 Zegris instantly suspected some evil intention in his visit ; and, 
 when Muza, in surprise, yielded to the prayer of the Vizier for 
 a private audience, it was with scowling brows and sparkling 
 eyes that the Moorish warriors left the darling of the nobles 
 alone with the messenger of their King. 
 
 " By the tomb of the Prophet !" said one of the Zegris, as 
 he quitted the hall, " the timid Boabdil suspects our Ben Abil 
 Gazan. I learned of this before." 
 
 " Hush ! " said another of the band ; " let us watch. If the 
 King touch a hair of Muza's head, Allah have mercy on his 
 sins ! " 
 
 Meanwhile, the Vizier, in silence, showed to Muza the firman 
 and the signet ; and then, without venturing to announce the 
 place to which he was commissioned to conduct the Prince, 
 besought him to follow at once. Muza changed color, but not 
 with fear. 
 
 " Alas ! " said he, in a tone of deep sorrow, " can it be that 
 I have fallen under my royal kinsman's suspicion or dis- 
 pleasure ? But no matter ; proud to set to Granada an example 
 of valor in her defence, be it mine to set, also, an example of 
 obedience to her King. Go on I will follow thee. Yet stay, 
 you will have no need of guards ; let us depart by a private 
 egress : the Zegris might misgive, did they see me leave the 
 palace with you at the very time the army are assembling in 
 the Vivarrambla, and awaiting my presence. This way." 
 
 Thus saying, Muza, who, fierce as he was, obeyed every 
 impulse that the oriental loyalty dictated from a subject to a 
 king, passed from the hall to a small door that admitted into 
 the garden, and in thoughtful silence accompanied the Vizier 
 towards the Alhambra. As they passed the copse in which 
 Muza, two nights before, had met with Almamen, the Moor, 
 lifting his head suddenly, beheld fixed upon him the dark eyes 
 of the magician, as he emerged from the trees. Muza thought 
 there was in those eyes a malign and hostile exultation ; but 
 Almamen, gravely saluting him, passed on through the grove ; 
 the Prince did not deign to look back, or he might once more 
 Jiave encountered that withering gaze. 
 
 "Proud heathen!" muttered Almamen to himself, "thy
 
 IKILA. * 
 
 father filled his treasuries from the gold of many a tortured 
 Hebrew ; and even thou, too haughty to be the miser, hast 
 been savage enough to play the bigot. Thy name is a curse 
 in Israel ; yet dost thou lust after the daughter of our de- 
 spised race, and, could defeated passion sting thee, I were 
 avenged. Ay, sweep on, with thy stately step and lofty crest 
 thou goest to chains, perhaps to death." 
 
 As Almamen thus vented his bitter spirit, the last gleam of 
 the white robes of Muza vanished from his gaze. He paused 
 a moment, turned away abruptly, and said, half aloud : " Ven- 
 geance, not on one man only, but a whole race ! Now for the 
 Nazarene." 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ROYAL TENT OF SPAIN. THE &ING AND THE DOMINI- 
 CAN. THE VISITOR AND THE HOSTAGE. 
 
 OUR narrative now summons us to the Christian army, and 
 to the tent in which the Spanish King held nocturnal counsel 
 with some of his more confidential warriors and advisers. 
 Ferdinand had taken the field with all the pomp and circum- 
 stance of a tournament rather than of a campaign ; and his 
 pavilion literally blazed with purple and cloth of gold. 
 
 The King sate at the head of a table on which were scat- 
 tered maps and papers ; nor in countenance and mien did that 
 great and politic monarch seem unworthy of the brilliant chiv- 
 alry by whom he was surrounded. His black hair, richly per- 
 fumed and anointed, fell in long locks on either side of a high, 
 imperial brow, upon whose calm, though not unfurrowed sur- 
 face the physiognomist would in vain have sought to read the 
 inscrutable heart of kings. His features were regular and 
 majestic ; and his mantle, clasped with a single jewel of rare 
 price and lustre, and wrought at the breast with a silver cross, 
 waved over a vigorous and manly frame, which derived from 
 the composed and tranquil dignity of habitual command that 
 imposing effect which many of the renowned knights and heroes 
 in his presence took from loftier stature and ampler propor- 
 tions. At his right hand sat Prince Juan, his son, in the first
 
 36 LEILA. 
 
 bloom of youth ; at his left, the celebrated Rodrigo Ponce de 
 Leon, Marquess of Cadiz ; along the table, in the order of their 
 military rank, were seen the splendid Dakeof Medina Sidonia, 
 equally noble in aspect and in name ; the worn and thoughtful 
 countenance of the Marquess de Villena (the Bayard of Spain); 
 the melancholy brow of the heroic Alonzo de Aguilar ; and the 
 gigantic frame, the animated features, and sparkling eyes, of 
 that fiery Hernando del Pulgar, surnamed " the Knight of the 
 Exploits." 
 
 " You see, Senores," said the King, continuing an address, to 
 which his chiefs seemed to listen with reverential attention, 
 " our best hope of speedily gaining the city is rather in the dis- 
 sensions of the Moors than our own sacred arms. The walls 
 are strong, the population still numerous ; and under Muza 
 Ben Abil Gazan, the tactics of the hostile army are, it must be 
 owned, administered with such skill as to threaten very for- 
 midable delays to the period of our conquest. Avoiding the 
 hazard of a fixed battle, the infidel cavalry harass our camp by 
 perpetual skirmishes ; and in the mountain defiles our detach- 
 ments cannot cope with their light horse and treacherous 
 ambuscades. It is true, that by dint of time, by the complete 
 devastation of the Vega, and by vigilant prevention of convoys 
 from the sea-towns, we might starve the city into yielding. 
 But, alas ! my lords, our enemies are scattered and numerous, 
 and Granada is not the only place before which the standard 
 of Spain should be unfurled. Thus situated, the lion does not 
 disdain to serve himself of the fox ; and fortunately, we have 
 now in Granada an ally that fights for us. I have actual 
 knowledge of all that passes within the Alhambra : the King 
 yet remains in his palace irresolute and dreaming ; and I trust 
 that an intrigue, by which his jealousies are aroused against 
 his general, Muza, may end either in the loss of that able leader, 
 or in the commotion of open rebellion or civil war. Treason 
 within Granada will open its gates to us." 
 
 " Sire," said Ponce de Leon, after a pause, " under your 
 counsels, I no more doubt of seeing our banner float above the 
 Vermilion Towers, than I doubt the rising of the sun over 
 yonder hills ; it matters little whether we win by stratagem or 
 force. But I need not say to Your Highness, that we should 
 carefully beware, lest we be amused by inventions of the 
 enemy, and trust to conspiracies which may be but lying tales 
 to blunt our sabres and paralyze our action." 
 
 " Bravely spoken, wise de Leon ! " exclaimed Hernando del 
 Pulgar hotly : " and against these infidels, aided by the cun-
 
 LEILA. Jl 
 
 mng of the Evil One, methinks our best wisdom lies in the 
 sword-arm. Well says our old Castilian proverb : 
 
 * Curse them devoutly, 
 Hammer them stoutly." " 
 
 The King smiled slightly at the ardor of the favorite of his 
 army, but looked round for more deliberate counsel. 
 
 " Sire," said Villena, " far be it from us to inquire the 
 grounds upon which your Majesty builds your hope of dis- 
 sension among the foe ; but, placing the most sanguine con- 
 fidence in a wisdom never to be deceived, it is clear that we 
 should relax no energy within our means, but fight while we 
 plot, and seek to conquer, while we do not neglect to under- 
 mine." 
 
 " You speak well, my lord," said Ferdinand thoughtfully ; 
 " and you yourself shall head a strong detachment to-morrow, 
 to lay waste the Vega. Seek me two hours hence ; the council 
 for the present is dissolved." 
 
 The knights rose, and withdrew with the usual grave and 
 stately ceremonies of respect which Ferdinand observed to, 
 and exacted from, his court : the young Prince remained. 
 
 "Son," said Ferdinand when they were alone, " early and 
 betimes should the Infants of Spain be lessoned in the science 
 of kingcraft. These nobles are among the brightest jewels of 
 the crown ; but still it is in the crown, and for the crown, that 
 their light should sparkle. Thou seest how hot, and fierce, 
 and warlike, are the chiefs of Spain excellent virtues when 
 manifested against our foes : but had we no foes, Juan, such 
 virtues might cause us exceeding trouble. By St. jago, I have 
 founded a mighty monarchy ! observe how it should be main- 
 tained by science, Juan, by science ! And science is as far 
 removed from brute force as this sword from a crowbar. Thou 
 seemest bewildered and amazed, my son : thou hast heard 
 that I seek to conquer Granada by dissensions among the 
 Moors ; when Granada is conquered, remember that the nobles 
 themselves are a Granada. Ave Maria ! blessed be the Holy 
 Mother, under whose eyes are the hearts of kings ! " 
 
 Ferdinand crossed himself devoutly ; and. then, rising, drew 
 aside a part of the drapery of the pavilion, and called, in a 
 low voice, the name of Perez. A grave Spaniard, somewhat 
 past the verge of middle age, appeared. 
 
 "Perez," said the King, reseating himself, "has the person 
 we expected from Granada yet arrived ? " 
 
 " Sire, yes ; accompanied by a maiden."
 
 3 LEILA. 
 
 " He hath kept his word ; admit them. Ha, holy father, 
 thy visits are always as balsam to the heart." 
 
 " Save you, my son ! " returned a man in the robes of a 
 Dominican friar, who had entered suddenly and without cere- 
 mony by another part of the tent, and who now seated 
 himself with smileless composure at a little distance from the 
 King. 
 
 There was a dead silence for some moments ; and Perez 
 still lingered within the tent, as if in doubt whether the 
 entrance of the friar would not prevent or delay obedience to 
 the King's command. On the calm face of Ferdinand him- 
 self appeared a slight shade of discomposure and irresolution, 
 when the monk thus resumed : 
 
 " My presence, my son, will not, I trust, disturb your con- 
 ference with the infidel since you deem that worldly policy 
 demands your parley with the men of Belial ? " 
 
 " Doubtless not doubtless not," returned the King quick- 
 ly : then, muttering to himself, " How wondrously doth 
 this holy man penetrate into all our movements and designs ! " 
 he added, aloud : " Let the messenger enter." 
 
 Perez bowed, and withdrew. 
 
 During this time, the young Prince reclined in listless 
 silence on his seat ; and on his delicate features was an ex- 
 pression of weariness which augured but ill of his fitness for 
 the stern business to which the lessons of his wise father were 
 intended to educate his mind. His, indeed, was the age, and 
 his the soul, for pleasure ; the tumult of the camp was to him 
 but a holiday exhibition ; the march of an army, the exhilara- 
 tion of a spectacle ; the court was a banquet ; the throne, the 
 best seat at the entertainment. The life of the heir-apparent, 
 to the life of the king-possessive, is as the distinction between 
 enchanting hope and tiresome satiety. 
 
 The small gray eyes of the friar wandered over each of his 
 royal companions with a keen and penetrating glance, and 
 then settled in the aspect of humility on the rich carpets that 
 bespread the floor ; nor did he again lift them till Perez, re- 
 appearing, admitted to the tent the Israelite, Almamen, 
 accompanied by a female figure; whose long veil, extending 
 from head to foof, could conceal neither the beautiful propor- 
 tions nor the trembling agitation of her frame. 
 
 " When last, great King, I was admitted to thy presence," 
 said Almamen, " thou didst make question of the sincerity and 
 faith of thy servant ; thou didst ask me for a surety of my 
 faith ; thou didst demand a hostage ; and didst refuse further
 
 LEILA. 33 
 
 parley without such pledge were yielded to thee. Lo ! I place 
 under thy kingly care this maiden, the sole child of my 
 house, as surety of my truth ; I intrust to thee a life dearer 
 than my own." 
 
 " You have kept faith with us, stranger," said the King, in 
 that soft and musical voice which well disguised his deep 
 craft and his unrelenting will ; " and the maiden whom you 
 entrust to our charge shall be ranked with the ladies of our 
 royal consort." 
 
 " Sire," replied Almamen, with touching earnestness, " you 
 now hold the power of life and death over all for whom this 
 heart can breathe a prayer or cherish a hope, save for my 
 countrymen and my religion. This solemn pledge between 
 thee and me I render up without scruple, without fear. To 
 thee I give a hostage, from thee I have but a promise." 
 
 " But it is the promise of a king, a Christian, and a knight," 
 said the King, with dignity rather mild than arrogant ; 
 " among monarchs, what hostage can be more sacred ? Let 
 this pass ; how proceed affairs in the rebel city ? " 
 
 " May this maiden withdraw, ere I answer my lord the King ? " 
 said Almamen. 
 
 The young Prince started to his feet. " Shall I conduct 
 this new charge to my mother ?" he asked, in a low voice, ad- 
 dressing Ferdinand. 
 
 The King half smiled : " The holy father were a better 
 guide," he returned, in the same tone. But, though the Do- 
 minican heard the hint, he retained his motionless posture ; and 
 Ferdinand, after a momentary gaze on the friar, turned away. 
 " Be it so, Juan," said he, with a look meant to convey caution 
 to the Prince ; " Perez shall accompany you to the Queen : 
 return the moment your mission is fulfilled we want your 
 presence." 
 
 While this conversation was carried on between the father 
 and son, the Hebrew was whispering, in his sacred tongue, 
 words of comfort and remonstrance to the maiden ; but they 
 appeared to have but little of the desired effect ; and, suddenly 
 falling on his breast, she wound her arms around the Hebrew, 
 whose breast shook with strong emotions, and exclaimed pas- 
 sionately, in the same language : " Oh, my father ! what have 
 I done ? Why send me from thee ? Why intrust thy child to 
 the stranger ! Spare me, spare me ! " 
 
 " Child of my heart ! " returned the Hebrew, with solemn 
 but tender accents, " even as Abraham offered up his son, 
 must I offer thee, upon the altars of our faith ; but, oh,
 
 34 LEILA. 
 
 Leila ! even as the angel of the Lord forbade the offering, so 
 shall thy youth be spared, and thy years reserved for the 
 glory of generations yet unborn. King of Spain ! " he con- 
 tinued in the Spanish tongue, suddenly and eagerly, " you are 
 a father ; forgive my weakness, and speed this parting." 
 
 Juan approached ; and with respectful courtesy attempted 
 to take the hand of the maiden. 
 
 " You ? " said the Israelite, with a dark frown. " O King ! 
 the Prince is young." 
 
 " Honor knoweth no distinction of age," answered the King. 
 "What ho, Perez ! accompany this maiden and the Prince to 
 the Queen's pavilion." 
 
 The sight of the sober years and grave countenance of the 
 attendant seemed to reassure the Hebrew. He strained Leila 
 in his arms ; printed a kiss upon her forehead without re- 
 moving her veil ; and then, placing her almost in the arms of 
 Perez, turned away to the further end of the tent, and con- 
 cealed his face with his hands. The King appeared touched ; 
 but the Dominican gazed upon the whole scene with a sour scowl. 
 
 Leila still paused for a moment ; and then, as if recovering her 
 self-possession, said, aloud and distinctly : " Man deserts me ; 
 but I will not forget that God is over all." Shaking off the 
 hand of the Spaniard, she continued : " Lead on ; I follow 
 thee ! " and left the tent with a steady and even majestic step. 
 
 " And now," said the King, when alone with the Dominican 
 and Almamen, " how proceed our hopes ? " 
 
 "Boabdil," replied the Israelite, "is aroused against both his 
 army and their leader, Muza ; the King will not quit the Al- 
 hambra, and this morning, ere I left the city, Muza himself 
 was in the prisons of the palace." 
 
 " How ! " cried the King, starting from his seat. 
 
 " This is my work," pursued the Hebrew coldly. " It is 
 these hands that are shaping for Ferdinand of Spain the keys 
 of Granada." 
 
 " And right kingly shall be your guerdon," said the Spanish 
 monarch : "meanwhile accept this earnest of our favor." 
 
 So saying, he took from his breast a chain of massive gold, 
 the links of which were curiously inwrought with gems, and 
 extended it to the Israelite. Almamen moved not. A dark 
 flush upon his countenance bespoke the feelings he with diffi- 
 culty restrained. 
 
 " I sell not my foes for gold, great King," said he, with a 
 stern smile : " I sell my foes to buy the ransom of my 
 friends."
 
 LEILA. 35 
 
 "Churlish!" said Ferdinand, offended: "but speak on, 
 man ! speak on ! " 
 
 " If I place Granada, ere two weeks are past, within thy 
 power, what shall be my reward ? " 
 
 " Thou didst talk to me, when last we met, of immunities to 
 the Jews." 
 
 The calm Dominican looked up as the King spoke, crossed 
 himself, and resumed his attitude of humility. 
 
 " I demand for the people of Israel," returned Almamen, 
 " free leave to trade and abide within the city, and follow their 
 callings, subjected only to the same laws and the same imposts 
 as the Christian population." 
 
 "The same laws, and the same imposts ! Humph ! There 
 are difficulties in the concession. If we refuse ?" 
 
 " Our treaty is ended. Give me back the maiden you will 
 have no further need of the hostage you demanded : I return 
 to the city, and renew our interviews no more." 
 
 Politic and cold-blooded as was the temperament of the 
 great Ferdinand, he had yet the imperious and haughty nature of 
 a prosperous and long-descended King ; and he bit his lip in 
 deep displeasure at the tone of the dictatorial and stately 
 stranger. 
 
 "Thou usest plain language, my friend," said he ; "my 
 words can be as rudely spoken. Thou art in my power, and 
 canst return not, save at my permission." 
 
 " I have your royal word, sire, for free entrance and safe 
 egress," answered Almamen. "Break it, and Granada is with 
 the Moors till the Darro runs red with the blood of her heroes, 
 and her people strew the vales as the leaves in autumn." 
 
 "Art thou then thyself of the Jewish faith?" asked the 
 King. " If thou art not, wherefore are the outcasts of the 
 world so dear to thee ? " 
 
 " My fathers were of that creed, royal Ferdinand ; and if I 
 myself desert their creed, I do not desert their cause. O King ! 
 are my terms scorned or accepted ?" 
 
 " I accept them : provided, first, that thou obtainest the exile 
 or death of Muza ; secondly, that within two weeks of this 
 date thou bringest me, along with the chief counsellors of 
 Granada, the written treaty of the capitulation, and the keys 
 of the city. Do this : and, though the sole King in Christen- 
 dom who dares the hazard, I offer to the Israelites throughout 
 Andalusia the common laws and rights of citizens of Spain ; 
 and to thee I will accord such dignity as may content thy 
 ambition."
 
 36 LEILA. 
 
 The Hebrew bowed reverently, and drew from his breast a 
 scroll, which he placed on the table before the King. 
 
 " This writing, mighty Ferdinand, contains the articles of 
 our compact." 
 
 "How, knave ! wouldst thou have us commit our royal sig- 
 nature to conditions with such as thou art, to the chance of the 
 public eye. The King's word is the King's bond ! " 
 
 The Hebrew took up the scroll with imperturbable compos- 
 ure. " My child ! " said he " Will your majesty summon back 
 my child ? We would depart." 
 
 "A sturdy mendicant this, by the Virgin!" muttered the 
 King ; and then, speaking aloud, " Give me the paper, I will 
 scan it." 
 
 Running his eyes hastily over the words, Ferdinand paused 
 a moment, and then drew towards him the implements of 
 writing, signed the scroll, and returned it to Almamen. 
 
 The Israelite kissed it thrice with oriental veneration, and 
 replaced it in his breast. 
 
 Ferdinand looked at him hard and curiously. He was a pro- 
 found reader of men's characters ; but that of his guest baffled 
 and perplexed him. 
 
 "And how, stranger," said he gravely "how can I trust 
 that man who thus distrusts one king and sells another ? " 
 
 " O King ! " replied Almamen (accustomed from his youth 
 to commune with and command the possessors of thrones yet 
 more absolute), " O King ! if thou believest me actuated by 
 personal and selfish interests in this our compact, thou hast but 
 to make my service minister to my interest, and the lore of hu- 
 man nature will tell thee that thou hast won a ready and sub- 
 missive slave. But if thou thinkest I have avowed sentiments 
 less abject, and developed qualities higher than those of the 
 mere bargainer for sordid power, lightest thou not to rejoice 
 that chance has thrown into thy way one whose intellect and 
 faculties may be made thy tool ? If I betray another, that 
 other is my deadly foe. Dost not thou, the lord of armies, be- 
 tray thine enemy? The Moor is an enemy bitterer to myself 
 than to thee. Because I betray an enemy, am I unworthy to 
 serve a friend ? If I, a single man, and a stranger to the Moor, 
 can yet command the secrets of palaces, and render vain 
 the counsels of armed men, have I not in that attested that 
 I am one of whom a wise king can make an able servant ? " 
 
 " Thou art a subtle reasoner, my friend," said Ferdinand, 
 smiling gently. " Peace go with thee ! Our conference for 
 the time is ended. What ho, Perez ! "
 
 LEILA 37 
 
 The attendant appeared. 
 
 " Thou hast left the maiden with the Queen?" 
 
 " Sire, you have been obeyed." 
 
 " Conduct this stranger to the guard who led him through 
 the camp. He quits us under the same protection. Farewell ! 
 Yet stay thou art assured that Muza Ben Abil Gazan is in the 
 prisons of the Moor?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Blessed be the Virgin ! " 
 
 " Thou hast heard our conference, Father Tomas ? " said the 
 King anxiously, when the Hebrew had withdrawn. 
 
 " I have, son." 
 
 "Did thy veins freeze with horror?" 
 
 " Only when my son signed the scroll. It seemed to me 
 then that I saw the cloven foot of the tempter." 
 
 " Tush, father ! the tempter would have been more wise than 
 to reckon upon a faith which no ink and no parchment can 
 render valid, if the Church absolve the compact. Thou un- 
 derstandest me, father?" 
 
 " I do. I know your pious heart and well-judging mind." 
 
 "Thou wert right," resumed the King musingly, "when 
 thou didst tell us that these caitiff Jews were waxing strong in 
 the fatness of their substance. They would have equal laws 
 the insolent blasphemers ! " 
 
 " Son ! " said the Dominican, with earnest adjuration, " God, 
 who has prospered your arms and councils, will require at your 
 hands an account of the power entrusted to you. Shall there 
 be no difference between His friends and His foes His dis- 
 ciples and His crucifiers ? " 
 
 " Priest," said the King, laying his hand on the monk's shoul- 
 der, and with a saturnine smile upon his countenance, "were 
 religion silent in this matter, policy has a voice loud enough 
 to make itself heard. The Jews demand equal rights ; when 
 men demand equality with their masters, treason is at work, 
 and justice sharpens her sword. Equality! these wealthy 
 usurers ! Sacred Virgin ! they would be soon buying up our 
 kingdoms." 
 
 The Dominican gazed hard on the King. "Son, I trust 
 thee." he said in a low voice, and glided from the tent.
 
 38 LEILA. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE AMBUSH, THE STRIFE, AND THE CAPTURE. 
 
 THE dawn was slowly breaking over the wide valley of 
 Granada, as Almamen pursued his circuitous and solitary path 
 back to the city. He was now in a dark and entangled hollow, 
 covered with brakes and bushes, from amidst which tall for- 
 est trees rose in frequent intervals, gloomy and breathless in 
 the still morning air. As, emerging from this jungle, if so it 
 may be called, the towers of Granada gleamed upon him, a 
 human countenance peered from the shade ; and Almamen 
 started to see two dark eyes fixed upon his own. 
 
 He halted abruptly, and put his hand on his dagger, when a 
 low, sharp whistle from the apparition before him was answered 
 around, behind ; and, ere he could draw breath, the Israelite 
 was begirt by a group of Moors, in the garb of peasants. 
 
 " Well, my masters," said Almamen calmly, as he encountered 
 the wild, savage countenances that glared upon him, "think you 
 there is aught to fear from the solitary santon ? " 
 
 " It is the magician," whispered one man to his neighbor 
 "let him pass." 
 
 " Nay," was the answer, " take him before the captain ; we 
 have orders to seize upon all we meet." 
 
 This counsel prevailed ; and gnashing his teeth with secret 
 rage, Almamen found himself hurried along by the peasants 
 through the thickest part of the copse. At length, the proces- 
 sion stopped in a semicircular patch of rank sward, in which 
 several head of cattle were quietly grazing, and a yet more 
 numerous troop of peasants reclined around upon the grass. 
 
 "Whom have we here?" asked a voice which startled back 
 the dark blood from Almamen's cheek ; and a Moor of com- 
 manding presence rose from the midst of his brethren. "By 
 the beard of the Prophet, it is the false santon ! What dost 
 thou from Granada at this hour?" 
 
 "Noble Muza," returned Almamen, who, though indeed 
 amazed that one whom he had imagined his victim was thus 
 unaccountably become his judge, retained, at least, the sem- 
 blance of composure "my answer is to be given only to my 
 lord the King ; it is his commands that I obey." 
 
 " Thou art aware," said Muza, frowning, " that thy life is for- 
 feited without appeal? Whatsoever inmate of Granada is 
 found without the walls between sunrise and sunset, dies the 
 death of a traitor and deserter,"
 
 LEILA. 39 
 
 " The servants of the Alhambra are excepted," answered the 
 Israelite, without changing countenance. 
 
 "Ah!" muttered Muza, as a painful and sudden thought 
 seemed to cross him, " can it be possible that the rumor of the 
 city has truth, and that the monarch of Granada is in treaty 
 with the foe ? " He mused a little ; and then, motioning the 
 Moors to withdraw, he continued aloud : " Almamen, answer 
 me truly : hast thou sought the Christian camp with any mes- 
 sage from the King?" 
 
 " I have not." 
 
 " Art thou without the walls on the mission of the King ? " 
 
 " If I be so, I am a traitor to the King should I reveal his 
 secret." 
 
 " I doubt thee much, santon," said Muza, after a pause ; "I 
 know thee for my enemy, and I do believe thy counsels have 
 poisoned the King's ear against me, his people and his duties. 
 But no matter, thy life is spared awhile ; thou remainest with 
 us, and with us shalt thou return to the King." 
 
 " But, noble Muza " 
 
 " I have said ! Guard the santon ; mount him upon one of 
 our chargers ; he shall abide with us in our ambush." 
 
 While Almamen chafed in vain at his arrest, all in the Chris- 
 tian camp was yet still. At length, as the sun began to lift 
 himself above the mountains, first a murmur, and then a din, 
 betokened warlike preparations. Several parties of horse, under 
 gallant and experienced leaders, formed themselves in different 
 quarters, and departed in different ways, on expeditions of 
 forage, or in the hope of skirmish with the straggling detach- 
 ments of the enemy. Of these, the best equipped was con- 
 ducted by the Marquess de Villena, and his gallant brother, 
 Don Alonzo de Pacheco. In this troop, too, rode many of the 
 best blood of Spain ; for in that chivalric army, the officers 
 vied with each other who should most eclipse the meaner sol- 
 diery in feats of personal valor ; and the name of Villena drew 
 around him the eager and ardent spirits that pined at the gen- 
 eral inactivity of Ferdinand's politic campaign. 
 
 The sun, now high in heaven, glittered on the splendid arms 
 and gorgeous pennons of Villena's company, as, leaving the 
 camp behind, it entered a rich and wooded district that skirts 
 the mountain barrier of the Vega the brilliancy of the day, 
 the beauty of the scene, the hope and excitement of enterprise, 
 animated the spirits of the whole party. In these expeditions 
 strict discipline was often abandoned, from the certainty that 
 it could be resumed at need. Conversation, gay and loud,
 
 40 LEILA. 
 
 interspersed at times with snatches of song, was heard amongst 
 the soldiery : and in the nobler group that rode with Villena, 
 there was even less of the proverbial gravity of Spaniards. 
 
 " Now, Marquess," said Don Estevon de Suzon, " what wager 
 shall be between us, as to which lance this day robs Moorish 
 beauty of the greatest number of its worshippers?" 
 
 " My falchion against your jennet," said Don Alonzo de 
 Pacheco, taking up the challenge. 
 
 " Agreed. But, talking of beauty, were you in the Queen's 
 pavilion last night, noble Marquess ? It was enriched by a new 
 maiden, whose strange and sudden apparition none can account 
 for. Her eyes would have eclipsed the fatal glance of Cava ; 
 and had I been Rodrigo, I might have lost a crown for her 
 smile." 
 
 " Ay," said Villena, " I heard of her beauty ; some hostage 
 from one of the traitor Moors, with whom the King (the saints 
 bless him !) bargains for the city. They tell me the Prince 
 incurred the Queen's grave rebuke for his attentions to the 
 maiden." 
 
 " And this morning I saw that fearful Father Tomas steal into 
 the Prince's tent. I wish Don Juan well through the lecture. 
 The monk's advice is like the algarroba ; * when it is laid up 
 to dry it may be reasonably wholesome, but it is harsh and bit- 
 ter enough when taken fresh." 
 
 At this moment one of the subaltern officers rode up to the 
 Marquess and whispered in his ear. 
 
 " Ha ! " said Villena, " the Virgin be praised ! Sir Knights, 
 booty is at hand. Silence ! close the ranks." 
 
 With that, mounting a little eminence, and shading his 
 eyes with his hand, the Marguess surveyed the plain below ; 
 and, at some distance, he beheld a horde of Moorish peasants 
 driving some cattle into a thick copse. The word was hastily 
 given, the troop dashed on, every voice was hushed, and the 
 clatter of mail and the sound of hoofs alone broke the deli- 
 cious silence of the noonday landscape. Ere they reached the 
 copse, the peasants had disappeared within it. The Marquess 
 marshalled his men in a semicircle round the trees, and sent on 
 a detachment to the rear, to cut off every egress from the 
 wood. This done, the troop dashed within. For the first fev 
 yards the space was more open than they had anticipated : but 
 the ground soon grew uneven, rugged, and almost precipitous; 
 and the soil, and the interlaced trees, alike forbade any rapid 
 motion to the horse. Don Alonzo de Pacheco, mounted on a 
 
 * The algarroba is a sort of leguminous plant, common in Spain.
 
 LEILA 41 
 
 charger whose agile and docile limbs had been tutored to every 
 description of warfare, and himself of light weight, and incom- 
 parable horsemanship, dashed on before the rest. The trees 
 hid him for a moment ; when suddenly, a wild yell was heard, 
 and as it ceased, uprose the solitary voice of the Spaniard, shout- 
 ing, " Santiago, y cierra Espana; St. Jago, and charge, Spain ! " 
 
 Each cavalier spurred forward, when, suddenly, a shower of 
 darts and arrows rattled on their armor ; and upsprung from 
 bush, and reeds, and rocky clift, a number of Moors, and with 
 wild shouts swarmed around the Spaniards. 
 
 " Back for your lives ! " cried Villena, " we are beset make 
 for the level ground ' " 
 
 He turned, spurred from the thicket, and saw the Paynim 
 foe emerging through the glen, line after line of man and horse ; 
 each Moor leading his slight and fiery steed by the bridle, and 
 leaping on it as he issued from the wood into the plain. Cased 
 in complete mail, his visor down, his lance in his rest, Villena 
 (accompanied by such of his knights as could disentangle them- 
 selves from the Moorish foot) charged upon the foe. A mo- 
 ment of fierce shock passed : on the ground lay many a Moor, 
 pierced through by the Christian lance ; and on the other side 
 of the foe was heard the voice of Villena : " St. Jago to the 
 rescue ! " But the brave Marquess stood almost alone, save 
 his faithful chamberlain, Solier. Several of his knights were 
 dismounted, and swarms of Moors with lifted knives, gathered 
 round them as they lay, searching for the joints of the armor 
 which might admit a mortal wound. Gradually, one by one, 
 many of Villena's comrades joined their leader ; and now the 
 green mantle of Don Alonzo de Pacheco was seen waving 
 without the copse, and Villena congratulated himself on the 
 safety of his brother. Just at that moment, a Moorish cavalier 
 spurred from his troop, and met Pacheco in full career. The 
 Moor was not clad, as was the common custom of the Paynim 
 nobles, in the heavy Christian armor. He wore the light flexile 
 mail of the ancient heroes of Araby or Fez. His turban, 
 which was protected by chains of the finest steel interwoven 
 with the folds, was of the most dazzling white white also were 
 his tunic and short mantle ; on his left arm hung a short circu- 
 lar shield, in his right hand was poised a long and slender lance. 
 As this Moor, mounted on a charger in whose raven hue not a 
 white hair could be detected, dashed forward against Pacheco, 
 both Christian and Moor breathed hard and remained passive. 
 Either nation felt it as a sacrilege to thwart the encounter of 
 champions so renowned.
 
 4 LEILA. 
 
 " God save my brave brother ! " muttered Villena anxiously. 
 " Amen," said those around him ; for all who had ever wit- 
 nessed the wildest valor in that war trembled as they recog- 
 nized the dazzling robe and coal-black charger of Muza Ben 
 Abil Gazan. Nor was that renowned infidel mated with an 
 unworthy foe. " Pride of the tournament, and terror of the 
 war," was the favorite title which the knights and ladies of 
 Castile had bestow on Don Alonzo de Pacheco. 
 
 When the Spaniard saw the redoubted Moor approach, he 
 halted abruptly for a moment, and then, wheeling his horse 
 round, took a wider circuit, to give additional impetus to his 
 charge. The Moor, aware of his purpose, halted also, and 
 awaited the moment of his rush ; when once more he darted 
 forward, and the combatants met with a skill which called forth 
 a cry of involuntary applause from the Christians themselves. 
 Muza received on the small surface of his shield the ponderous 
 spear of Alonzo, while his own light lance struck upon the hel- 
 met of the Christian, and by the exactness of the aim, rather 
 than the weight of the blow, made Alonzo reel in his saddle. 
 
 The lances were thrown aside the long, broad falchion of 
 the Christian, the curved Damascus cimiter of the Moor, 
 gleamed in the air. They reined their chargers opposite each 
 other in grave and deliberate silence. 
 
 " Yield thee, Sir Knight ! " at length cried the fierce Moor, 
 " for the motto on my cimiter declares that if thou meetest its 
 stroke, thy days are numbered. The sword of the believer is 
 the Key of Heaven and Hell." * 
 
 " False Paynim," answered Alonzo, in a voice that rang 
 hollow through his he'lmet, " a Christian knight is the equal of 
 a Moorish army ! " 
 
 Muza made no reply, but left the rein of his charger on his 
 neck ; the noble animal understood the' signal, and with a 
 short, impatient cry rushed forward at full speed. Alonzo 
 met the charge with his falchion upraised, and his whole body 
 covered with his shield : the Moor bent the Spaniards raised 
 a shout Muza seemed stricken from his horse. But the blow 
 of the heavy falchion had not touched him : and, seemingly 
 without an effort, the curved blade of his own cimiter, gliding 
 by that part of his antagonist's throat where the helmet joins 
 the cuirass, passed unresistingly and silently through the joints ; 
 and Alonzo fell at once, and without a groan, from his horse 
 his armor, to all appearance, unpenetrated, while the blood 
 oozed slow and gurgling from a mortal wound. 
 
 * Such, says Sale, is the poetical phrase of the Mahometan divine.
 
 LEILA. 43 
 
 " Allah il Allah ! " shouted Muza, as he joined his friends ; 
 " Lelilies ! Lelilies ! " echoed the Moors ; and ere the Chris- 
 tians recovered their dismay they were engaged hand to hand 
 with their ferocious and swarming foes. It was, indeed, 
 fearful odds ; and it was a marvel to the Spaniards how the 
 Moors had been enabled to harbor and conceal their numbers 
 in so small a space. Horse and foot alike beset the company 
 of Villena, already sadly reduced ; and while the infantry, 
 with desperate and savage fierceness, thrust themselves under 
 the very bellies of the chargers, encountering both the hoofs 
 of the steed and the deadly lance of the rider, in the hope of 
 finding a vulnerable place for the sharp Moorish knife, the 
 horsemen, avoiding the stern grapple of the Spanish warriors, 
 harassed them by the shaft and lance now advancing, now re- 
 treating, and performing, with incredible rapidity, the evolu- 
 tions of Oriental cavalry. But the life and soul of his party 
 was the indomitable Muza. With a rashness which seemed to 
 the superstitious Spaniards like the safety of a man protected 
 by magic, he spurred his ominous black barb into the very 
 midst of the serried phalanx which Villena endeavored to form 
 around him, breaking the order by his single charge, and from 
 time to time bringing to the dust some champion of the troop 
 by the noiseless and scarce seen edge of his fatal cimiter. 
 
 Villena, in despair alike of fame and life, and gnawed with 
 grief for his brother's loss, at length resolved to put the last 
 hope of the battle on his single arm. He gave the signal for 
 retreat ; and to protect his troop, remained himself, alone and 
 motionless, on his horse, like a statue of iron. Though not of 
 large frame, he was esteemed the best swordsman, next only to 
 Hernando del Pulgar and Gonsalvo de Cordova, in the army ; 
 practised alike in the heavy assault of the Christian warfare, 
 and the rapid and dexterous exercise of the Moorish cavalry. 
 There he remained, alone and grim a lion at bay while his 
 troops slowly retreated down the Vega, and their trumpets 
 sounded loud signals of distress, and demands for succor, to 
 such of their companions as might be within hearing. Villena's 
 armor defied the shafts of the Moors ; and as one after one 
 darted towards him, with whirling cimiter and momentary 
 assault, few escaped with impunity from an eye equally quick 
 and a weapon more than equally formidable. Suddenly, a 
 cloud of dust swept towards him ; and Muza, a moment before 
 at the further end of the field, came glittering through that 
 cloud, with his white robe waving and his right arm bare. 
 Villena recognized him, set his teeth hard, and putting spurs to
 
 44 LEILA. 
 
 his charger, met the rush. Muza swerved aside, just as the 
 heavy falchion swung over his head, and by a back stroke of 
 his own cimiter, shore through the cuirass just above the hip- 
 joint, and the blood followed the blade. The brave cavaliers 
 saw the danger of their chief ; three of their number darted 
 forward, and came in time to separate the combatants. 
 
 Muza stayed not to encounter the new reinforcement ; but 
 speeding across the plain, was soon seen rallying his own scat- 
 tered cavalry, and pouring them down, in one general body, 
 upon the scanty remnant of the Spaniards. 
 
 " Our day is come ! " said the good knight Villena, with bit- 
 ter resignation. "Nothing is left for us, my friends, but to 
 give up our lives an example how Spanish warriors should 
 live and die. May God and the Holy Mother forgive our sins, 
 and shorten our purgatory ! " 
 
 Just as he spoke, a clarion was heard at a distance ; and the 
 sharpened senses of the knights caught the ring of advancing 
 hoofs. 
 
 "We are saved ! " cried Estevon de Suzon, rising on his stir- 
 rups. While he spoke, the dashing stream of the Moorish 
 horse broke over the little band ; and Estevon beheld bent 
 upon himself the dark eyes and quivering lip of Muza Ben 
 Abil Gazan. That noble knight had never, perhaps, till then 
 known fear ; but he felt his heart stand still, as he now stood 
 opposed to that irresistible foe. 
 
 " The dark fiend guides his blade ! " thought De Suzon ; 
 " but I was shriven but yestermorn." The thought restored his 
 wonted courage ; and he spurred on to meet the cimiter of the 
 Moor. 
 
 His assault took Muza by surprise. The Moor's horse 
 stumbled over the ground, cumbered with the dead and slip- 
 pery with blood, and his uplifted cimiter could not do more 
 than break the force of the gigantic arm of De Suzon ; as the 
 knight's falchion, bearing down the cimiter, and alighting on 
 the turban of the Mahometan, clove midway through its 
 folds, arrested only by the admirable temper of the links of 
 steel which protected it. The shock hurled the Moor to the 
 ground. He rolled under the saddle-girths of his antagonist. 
 
 " Victory and St. Jago ! " cried the knight, " Muza is " 
 
 The sentence was left eternally unfinished. The blade of 
 the fallen Moor had already pierced De Suzon's horse through 
 a mortal but undefended part. It fell, bearing his rider with 
 him. A moment, and the two champions lay together grap- 
 pling in the dust ; in the next, the short knife which the Moor
 
 LEILA. 45 
 
 wore in his girdle had penetrated the Christian's visor, passing 
 through the brain. 
 
 To remount his steed, that remained at hand, humbled and 
 motionless, to appear again amongst the thickest of the fray, 
 was a work no less rapidly accomplished than had been the 
 slaughter of the unhappy Estevon de Suzon. But now the 
 fortune of the day was stopped in a progress hitherto so tri- 
 umphant to the Moors. 
 
 Pricking fast over the plain were seen the glittering horse- 
 men of the Christian reinforcements ; and, at the remoter dis- 
 tance, the royal banner of Spain, indistinctly descried through 
 volumes of dust, denoted that Ferdinard himself was advanc- 
 ing to the support of his cavaliers. 
 
 The Moors, however, who had themselves received many and 
 mysterious reinforcements, which seemed to spring up like magic 
 from the bosom of the earth, so suddenly and unexpectedly 
 had they emerged from copse and cleft in that mountainous 
 and entangled neighborhood, were not unprepared for a fresh 
 foe. At the command of the vigilant Muza, they drew off, fell 
 into order, and, seizing while yet there was time the vantage- 
 ground which inequalities of the soil and the shelter of the 
 trees gave to their darts and agile horse, they presented an 
 array which Ponce de Leon himself, who now arrived, deemed 
 it more prudent not to assault. While Villena, in accents 
 almost inarticulate with rage, was urging the Marquess of 
 Cadiz to advance, Ferdinand, surrounded by the flower of his 
 court, arrived at the rear of the troops ; and, after a few words 
 interchanged with Ponce de Leon, gave the signal of retreat. 
 
 When the Moors beheld that noble soldiery slowly breaking 
 ground, and retiring towards the camp, even Muza could not 
 control their ardor. They rushed forward, harassing the 
 retreat of the Christians, and, delaying the battle by various 
 skirmishes. 
 
 It was at this time that the headlong valor of Hernando del 
 Fulgar, who had arrived with Ponce de Leon, distinguished 
 itself in feats which yet live in the songs of Spain. Mounted 
 upon an immense steed, and himself of colossal strength, he 
 was seen charging alone upon the assailants, and scattering 
 numbers to the ground with the sweep of his enormous and 
 two-handed falchion. With a loud voice, he called on Muza 
 to oppose him ; but the Moor, fatigued with slaughter, and 
 scarcely recovered from the shock of his encounter with De 
 Suzon, reserved so formidable a foe for a future contest. 
 
 It was at this juncture, while the field was covered with strag-
 
 46 LEILA. 
 
 gling skirmishers, that a small party of Spaniards, in cutting 
 their way to the main body of their countrymen through one 
 of the numerous copses held by the enemy, fell in at the out- 
 skirt with an equal number of Moors, and engaged them in a 
 desperate conflict, hand to hand. Amidst the infidels was one 
 man who took no part in the affray : at a little distance he 
 gazed for a few moments upon the fierce and relentless slaugh- 
 ter of Moor and Christian with a smile of stern and complacent 
 delight; and then taking advantage of the general confusion, 
 rode gently, and, as he hoped, unobserved, away from the 
 scene. But he was not destined so quietly to escape. A 
 Spaniard perceived him, and, from something strange and un- 
 usual in his garb, judged him one of the Moorish leaders ; 
 and presently Almamen, for it was he, beheld before him the 
 uplifted falchion of a foe neither disposed to give quarter nor 
 to hear parley. Brave though the Israelite was, many reasons 
 concurred to prevent his taking a personal part against the 
 soldier of Spain ; and, seeing he should have no chance of ex- 
 planation, he fairly put spurs to his horse, and galloped across 
 the plain. The Spaniard followed, gained upon him, and 
 Almamen at length turned, in despair and the wrath of his 
 haughty nature. 
 
 " Have thy will, fool ! " said he, between his grinded teeth, 
 as he griped his dagger and prepared for the conflict. It was 
 long and obstinate, for the Spaniard was skilful ; and the 
 Hebrew, wearing no mail, and without any weapon more for- 
 midable than a sharp and well-tempered dagger, was forced to 
 act cautiously on the defensive. At length, the combatants 
 grappled, and, by a dexterous thrust, the short blade of Alma- 
 men pierced the throat of his antagonist, who fell prostrate to 
 the ground. 
 
 " I am safe," he thought, as he wheeled round his horse ; 
 when lo ! the Spaniards he had just left behind, and who had 
 now routed their antagonists, were upon him. 
 
 " Yield, or die," cried the leader of the troop. 
 
 Almamen glared round ; no succor was at hand. " I am 
 not your enemy," said he sullenly, throwing down his weapon 
 " bear me to your camp." 
 
 A trooper seized his rein, and, scouring along, the Spaniards 
 soon reached the retreating army. 
 
 Meanwhile the evening darkened, the shout and the roar 
 grew gradually less loud and loud the battle had ceased 
 the stragglers had joined their several standards ; and, by the 
 light of the first star, the Moorish force, bearing their wounded
 
 LEILA. 47 
 
 brethren, and elated with success, re-entered the gates of 
 Granada, as the black charger of the hero of the day, closing 
 the rear of the cavalry, disappeared within the gloomy portals. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE HERO IN THE POWER OF THE DREAMER. 
 
 IT was in the same chamber, and nearly at the same hour, in 
 which we first presented to the reader Boabdil El Chico, that 
 we are again admitted to- the presence of that ill-starred mon- 
 arch. He was not alone. His favorite slave, Amine, reclined 
 upon the ottomans, gazing with anxious love upon his thought- 
 ful countenance, as he leant against the glittering wall by the 
 side of the casement, gazing abstractedly on the scene below. 
 
 From afar he heard the shouts of the populace at the return 
 of Muza, and bursts of artillery confirmed the tidings of 
 triumph which had already been borne to his ear. 
 
 " May the King live forever !" said Amine timidly ; "his 
 armies have gone forth to conquer." 
 
 " But without "their King," replied Boabdil bitterly, " and 
 headed by a traitor and a foe. I am meshed in the nets of an 
 inextricable fate ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " said the slave, with sudden energy, as, clasping 
 her hands, she rose from her couch, " Oh, my lord ! would that 
 these humble lips dared utter other words than those of love ! " 
 
 " And what wise counsel would they give me ? " asked 
 Boabdil, with a faint smile. " Speak on." 
 
 " I will obey thee, then, even if it displease," cried Amine ; 
 and she rose, her cheek glowing, her eyes sparkling, her beau- 
 tiful form dilated. " I am a daughter of Granada ; I am the 
 beloved of a King ; I will be true to my birth and to my for- 
 tunes. Boabdil El Chico, the last of a line of heroes, shake off 
 these gloomy fantasies, these doubts and dreams that smother 
 the fire of a great nature and a kingly soul ! Awake arise 
 rob Granada of her Muza be thyself her Muza ! Trustest 
 thou to magic and to spells ? Then grave them on thy breast- 
 plate, write them on thy sword, and live no longer the Dreamer 
 of the Alhambra ; become the saviour of thy people ! " 
 
 Boabdil turned and gazed on the inspired and beautiful form 
 before him, with mingled emotions of surprise and shame. 
 " Out of the mouth of woman cometh my rebuke ! " said he 
 sadly. " It is well ! " 
 
 " Pardon me, pardon me ! " said the slave, falling humbly
 
 48 LEILA 
 
 at his knees; "but blame me not that I would have thee 
 worthy of thyself. Wert thou not happier, was not thy heart 
 more light, and thy hope more strong, when at the head of 
 thine armies, thine own cimiter slew thine own foes, and the 
 terror of the Hero-King spread, in flame and slaughter, from 
 the mountains to the seas. Boabdil ! dear as thou art to me 
 equally as I would have loved theehadst thou been born a lowly 
 fisherman of the Darro since thou art a king, I would have 
 thee die a king ; even if my own heart broke as I armed thee 
 for thy latest battle ! " 
 
 " Thou knowest not what thou sayest, Amine," said Boabdil, 
 " nor canst thou tell what spirits that are not of earth dictate 
 to the actions, and watch over the destinies, of the rulers of 
 nations. If I delay, if I linger, it is not from terror, but from 
 wisdom. The cloud must gather on, dark and slow, ere the 
 moment for the thunderbolt arrives." 
 
 " On thine house will the thunderbolt fall, since over thine 
 own house thou sufferest the cloud to gather," said a calm and 
 stern voice. 
 
 Boabdil started ; and in the chamber stood a third person, 
 in the shape of a woman, past middle age, and of command- 
 ing port and stature. Upon her long-descending robes of em- 
 broidered purple were thickly woven jewels of royal price ; 
 and her dark hair, slightly tinged with gray, parted over a 
 majestic brow, while a small diadem surmounted the folds of 
 the turban. 
 
 " My mother ! " said Boabdil, with some haughty reserve in 
 his tone ; "your presence is unexpected." 
 
 " Ay," answered Ayxa la Horra, for it was indeed that cele- 
 brated, and haughty, and high-souled queen, "and unwelcome ; 
 so is ever that of your true friends. But not thus unwelcome 
 was the presence of your mother, when her brain and her 
 hand delivered you from the dungeon in which your stern 
 father had cast your youth, and the dagger and the bowl 
 seemed the only keys that would unlock the cell." 
 
 " And better hadst thou left the ill-omened son that thy 
 womb conceived, to die thus in youth, honored and lamented, 
 than to live to manhood, wrestling against an evil star and a 
 relentless fate." 
 
 " Son," said the Queen, gazing upon him with lofty and half 
 disdainful compassion, " men's conduct shapes out their own 
 fortunes, and the unlucky are never the valiant and the wise." 
 
 " Madam," said Boabdil, coloring with passion, " I am still 
 a king, nor will I be thus bearded withdraw ! "
 
 LEILA. 
 
 49 
 
 Ere the Queen could reply, a eunuch entered, and whis- 
 pered Boabdil. 
 
 " Ha ! " said he joyfully, stamping his foot, " comes he 
 then to brave the lion in his den ? Let the rebel look to it. 
 Is he alone ?" 
 
 " Alone, great King." 
 
 "Bid my guards wait without ; let the slightest signal sum- 
 mon them. Amine, retire ! Madam " 
 
 "Son!" interrupted Ayxa la Horra, in visible agitation, 
 " do I guess aright ? Is the brave Muza the sole bulwark 
 and hope of Granada whom unjustly thou wouldst last night 
 have placed in chains (Chains ! great Prophet ! is it thus a 
 king should reward his heroes !) is, I say, Muza here ? And 
 wilt thou make him the victim of his own generous trust ?" 
 
 " Retire, woman ! " said Boabdil sullenly. 
 
 " I will not, save by force ! I resisted a fiercer soul than 
 thine when I saved thee from thy father." 
 
 " Remain, then, if thou wilt, and learn how kings can punish 
 traitors. Mesnour, admit the hero of Granada." 
 
 Amine had vanished. Boabdil seated himself on the cush- 
 ions his face calm but pale. The Queen stood erect at a 
 little distance, her arms folded on her breast, and her aspect 
 knit and resolute. In a few moments Muza entered, alone. 
 He approached the King with the profound salutation of 
 oriental obeisance ; and then stood before him with downcast 
 eyes, in an attitude from which respect could not divorce a 
 natural dignity and pride of mien. 
 
 " Prince," said Boabdil, after a moment' s pause, " yester- 
 morn, when I sent for thee, thou didst brave my orders. 
 Even in mine own Alhambra thy minions broke out in mutiny ; 
 they surrounded the fortress, in which thou wert to wait my 
 pleasure ; they intercepted, they insulted, they drove back my 
 guards ; they stormed the towers protected by the banner of 
 thy king. The governor, a coward or a traitor, rendered thee 
 to the rebellious crowd. Was this all ? No, by the Prophet ! 
 Thou, by right my captive, didst leave thy prison but to head 
 mine armies. And this day, the traitor subject the secret 
 foe was the leader of the people who defy a king. This 
 night thou comest to me unsought. Thou feelest secure from 
 my just wrath, even in my palace. Thine insolence blinds and 
 betrays thee. Man, thou art in my power. Ho, there ! " 
 
 As the King spoke, he rose ; and presently, the arcades at 
 the back of the pavilion were darkened by long lines of the 
 Ethiopian guard, each of height which, beside the slight Moor-
 
 5<3 LEILA. 
 
 ish race, appeared gigantic ; stolid and passionless machines, 
 to execute, without thought, the bloodiest or the lightest caprice 
 of despotism. There they stood ; their silver breastplates and 
 long earrings contrasting their dusky skins ; and bearing, over 
 their shoulders, immense clubs studded with brazen nails. A 
 little advanced from the rest, stood the captain, with the fatal 
 bowstring hanging carelessly on his arm, and his eyes intent to 
 catch the slightest gesture of the King. 
 
 " Behold ! " said Boabdil to his prisoner. 
 
 " I do ; and am prepared for what I have foreseen." 
 
 The Queen grew pale but remained silent. 
 
 Muza resumed : 
 
 " Lord of the faithful ! " said he, "if yestermorn I had acted 
 otherwise, it would have been to the ruin of thy throne and our 
 common race. The fierce Zegris suspected and learned my 
 capture. They summoned the troops ; they delivered me, it 
 was true. At that time, had I reasoned with them, it would 
 have been as drops upon a flame. They were bent on besieg- 
 ing thy palace, perhaps upon demanding thy abdication. I 
 could not stifle their fury, but I could direct it. In a moment 
 of passion, I led them from rebellion against our common king 
 to victory against our common foe. That duty done, I come 
 unscathed from the sword of the Christian to bare my neck to 
 the bowstring of my friend. Alone, untracked, unsuspected, I 
 have entered thy palace to prove to the sovereign of Granada 
 that the defendant of his throne is not a rebel to his will. Now 
 summon the guards I have done." 
 
 " Muza ! " said Boabdil, in a softened voice, while he shaded 
 his face with his hand, " we played together as children, and I have 
 loved thee well : my kingdom even now, perchance, is passing 
 from me, but I could almost be reconciled to that loss if I 
 thought thy loyalty had not left me." 
 
 " Dost thou, in truth, suspect the faith of Muza Ben Abil 
 Gazan ? " said the Moorish Prince, in a tone of surprise and 
 sorrow. " Unhappy king ! I deemed that my services, and 
 not my defection, made my crime." 
 
 "Why do my people hate me? Why do my armies men- 
 ace? "said Boabdil evasively; "Why should a subject pos- 
 sess that allegiance which a king cannot obtain ?" 
 
 " Because," replied Muza boldly, " the King has delegated 
 to a subject the command he should himself assume. Oh, 
 Boabdil !" he continued passionately "friend of my boyhood, 
 ere the evil days came upon us, gladly would 1 sink to rest 
 beneath the dark waves of yonder river, if thy arm and brain
 
 LEILA. 5 1 
 
 would fill up my place amongst the warriors of Granada. And 
 think not I say this only from our boyish love ; think not I 
 have placed my life in thy hands only from that servile loyalty 
 to a single man which the false chivalry of Christendom imposes 
 as a sacred creed upon its knights and nobles. But I speak 
 and act but from one principle to save the religion of my 
 father and the land of my birth : for this I have risked my life 
 against the foe ; for this I surrender my life to the sovereign of 
 my country. Granada may yet survive, if monarch and people 
 unite together. Granada is lost forever, if her children, at this 
 fatal hour, are divided against themselves. If, then, I, O Boab- 
 dil, am the true obstacle to thy league with thine own subjects, 
 give me at once to the bowstring, and my sole prayer shall be 
 for the last remnant of the Moorish name, and the last mon- 
 arch of the Moorish dynasty." 
 
 " My son, my son ! art thou convinced at last ? " cried the 
 Queen, struggling with her tears ; for she was one who wept 
 easily at heroic sentiments, but never at the softer sorrows, or 
 from the more womanly emotions. 
 
 Boabdil lifted his head with a vain and momentary attempt 
 at pride ; his eye glanced from his mother to his friend, and 
 his better feelings gushed upon him with irresistible force : he 
 threw himself into Muza's arms. 
 
 "Forgive me," he said in broken accents, " forgive me! 
 How could I have wronged thee thus ? Yes," he continued, 
 as he started from the noble breast on which for a moment he 
 indulged no ungenerous weakness, " yes, Prince, your example 
 shames, but it fires me. Granada henceforth shall have two 
 chieftains ; and if I be jealous of thee, it shall be from an 
 emulation thou canst not blame. Guards, retire. Mesnour ! 
 ho, Mesnour ! Proclaim at daybreak that I myself will review 
 the troops in the Vivarrambla. Yet," and, as he spoke, his 
 voice faltered, and his brow became overcast, " yet, stay ; seek 
 me thyself at daybreak, and I will give thee my commands." 
 
 " Oh, my son, why hesitate ? " cried the Queen ; " Why 
 waver ? Prosecute thine own kingly designs, and " 
 
 " Hush, madam," said Boabdil, regaining his customary cold 
 composure ; " and since you are now satisfied with your son, 
 leave me alone with Muza." 
 
 " The Queen sighed heavily ; but there was something in 
 the calm of Boabdil which chilled and awed her more than his 
 bursts of passion. She drew her veil around her, and passed 
 slowly and reluctantly from the chamber. 
 
 " Muza," said Boabdil, when alone with the Prince, and
 
 52 LEILA. 
 
 fixing his large and thoughtful eyes upon the dark orbs of his 
 companion, " when, in our younger days, we conversed together, 
 do you remember how often that converse turned upon those 
 solemn and mysterious themes to which the sages of our 
 ancestral land directed their deepest lore ; the enigmas of the 
 stars, the science of fate, the wild researches into the clouded 
 future, which hides the destinies of nations and of men ? Thou 
 rememberest, Muza, that to such studies mine own vicissitudes 
 and sorrows, even in childhood the strange fortunes which 
 gave me in my cradle the epithet of El Zogoybi the ominous 
 predictions of santons and astrologers as to the trials of my 
 earthly fate all contributed to incline my soul. Thou didst not 
 despise those earnest musings, nor our ancestral lore, though, 
 unlike me, ever more inclined to action than to contemplation, 
 that which thou mightest believe, had little influence upon 
 what thou didst design. With me it hath been otherwise : 
 every event of life hath conspired to feed my early preposses- 
 sions ; and in this awful crisis of my fate, I have placed myself 
 and my throne rather under the guardianship of spirits than of 
 men. This alone has reconciled me to inaction to the torpor 
 of the Alhambra to the mutinies of my people. I have smiled 
 when foes surrounded and friends deserted me, secure of the 
 aid at last if I bided but the fortunate hour of the charms of 
 protecting spirits, and the swords of the invisible creation. 
 Thou wonderest what this should lead to. Listen ! Two 
 nights since (and the King shuddered) I was with the dead ! 
 My father appeared before me not as I knew him in life 
 gaunt and terrible, full of the vigor of health, and the strength 
 of kingly empire, and of fierce passion but wan, calm, 
 shadowy. From lips on which Azrael had set his livid seal, 
 he bade me beware of thee ! " 
 
 The King ceased suddenly ; and sought to read on the face 
 of Muza the effect his words produced. But the proud and 
 swarthy features of the Moor evinced no pang of conscience ; 
 a slight smile of pity might have crossed his lips for a moment, 
 but it vanished ere the King could detect it. Boabdil continued : 
 
 " Under the influence of this warning, I issued the order for 
 thy arrest. Let this pass I resume my tale. I attempted to 
 throw myself at the spectre's feet ; it glided from, me, motion- 
 less and impalpable. I asked the Dead One if he forgave his 
 unhappy son the sin of rebellion alas ! too well requited even 
 upon earth. And the voice again came forth, and bade me keep 
 the crown that I had gained, as the sole atonement for the past. 
 Then again I asked, whether the hour for action had arrived ?
 
 LEILA 53 
 
 And the spectre, while it faded gradually into air, answered, 
 ' No ! ' ' Oh ! ' I exclaimed, 'ere thou leavest me, be one sign 
 accorded me, that I have not dreamt this vision ; and give me, 
 I pray thee, note and warning when the evil star of Boabdil 
 shall withhold its influence, and he may strike, without resist- 
 ance from the Powers above, for his glory and his throne.' 
 ' The sign and the warning are bequeathed thee,' answered the 
 ghostly image. It vanished thick darkness fell around ; and, 
 when once more the light of the lamps we bore became visible, 
 behold there stood before me a skeleton, in the regal robe of 
 the kings of Granada, and on its grisly head was the imperial 
 diadem. With one hand raised, it pointed to the opposite wall, 
 wherein burned, like an orb of gloomy fire, a broad dial plate, 
 on which were graven these words, 'BEWARE FEAR NOT 
 ARM ! ' the finger of the dial moved rapidly round, and rested 
 at the word beware. From that hour to the one in which I last 
 beheld it, it hath not moved. Muza, the tale is done ; wilt 
 thou visit with me this enchanted chamber, and see if the hour 
 be come ? " 
 
 " Commander of the faithful," said Muza, " the story is dread 
 and awful. But pardon thy friend wert thou alone, or was 
 the santon Almamen thy companion ? " 
 
 " Why the question ? " said Boabdil evasively and slightly 
 coloring. 
 
 "I fear his truth," answered Muza; "the Christian King 
 conquers more foes by craft than force : and his spies are 
 more deadly than his warriors. Wherefore this caution against 
 me but (pardon me) for thine own undoing? Were I a traitor, 
 could Ferdinand himself have endangered thy crown so immi- 
 nently as the revenge of the leader of thine own armies ? 
 Why, too, this desire to keep thee inactive ? For the brave 
 every hour hath its chances ; but, for us, every hour increases 
 our peril. If we seize not the present time, our supplies are 
 cut off and famine is a foe all our valor cannot resist. This 
 dervise who is he ? A stranger, not of our race and blood. 
 But this morning I found him without the walls, not far from 
 the Spaniards' camp." 
 
 " Ha ! " cried the King quickly, "and what said he?" 
 
 " Little, but in hints ; sheltering himself, by loose hints, 
 under thy name." 
 
 " He ! What dared he own ? Muza, what were those 
 hints?" 
 
 The Moor here recounted the interview with Almamen, his 
 detention, his inactivity in the battle, and his subsequent cap-
 
 54 LEILA. 
 
 ture by the Spaniards. The King listened attentively, and 
 regained his composure. 
 
 " It is a strange and awful man," said he, after a pause. 
 "Guards and chains will not detain him. Ere long he will 
 return. But thou, at least, Muza, art henceforth free, alike 
 from the suspicion of the living, and the warnings of the dead. 
 No, my friend," continued Boabdil, with generous warmth ; 
 " it is better to lose a crown, to lose life itself, than confidence 
 in a heart like thine. Come, let us inspect this magic tablet ; 
 perchance and how my heart bounds as I utter the hope ! 
 the hour may have arrived." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A FULLER VIEW OF THE CHARACTER OF BOABDIL. MUZA IN THE 
 
 GARDENS OF HIS BELOVED. 
 
 MUZA BEN ABIL GAZAN returned from his visit to Boabdil 
 with a thoughtful and depressed spirit. His arguments had 
 failed to induce the King to disdain the command of the magic 
 dial, which still forbade him to arm against the invaders ; and 
 although the royal favor was no longer withdrawn from him- 
 self, the Moor felt that such favor hung upon a capricious and 
 uncertain tenure so long as his sovereign was the slave of 
 superstition or imposture. But that noble warrior, whose 
 character the adversity of his country had singularly exalted 
 and refined, even while increasing its natural fierceness, thought 
 little of himself in comparison with the evils and misfortunes 
 which the King's continued irresolution must bring upon 
 Granada. 
 
 "So brave, and yet so weak (thought he) ; so weak, and yet 
 so obstinate ; so wise a reasoner, yet so credulous a dupe ! 
 Unhappy Boabdil ! the stars, indeed, seem to fight against 
 thee, and their influences at thy birth marred all thy gifts and 
 virtues with counteracting infirmity and error." 
 
 Muza, more perhaps than any subject in Granada, did justice 
 to the real character of the King ; but even he was unable to 
 penetrate all its complicated and latent mysteries. Boabdil 
 El Chico was no ordinary man : his affections were warm and 
 generous, his nature calm and gentle ; and though early power 
 and the painful experience of a mutinous people and ungrate- 
 ful court had imparted to that nature an irascibility of temper, 
 and a quickness of suspicion, foreign to its earlier soil, he was 
 easily led back to generosity and justice ; and if warm in
 
 LEILA. 55 
 
 resentment, was magnanimous in forgiveness. Deeply accom- 
 plished in all the learning of his race and time, he was in 
 books, at least a philosopher ; and, indeed, his attachment to 
 the abstruser studies was one of the main causes which unfitted 
 him for his present station. But it was the circumstances 
 attendant on his birth and childhood that had perverted his 
 keen and graceful intellect to morbid indulgence in mystic 
 reveries, and all the doubt, fear, and irresolution of a man 
 who pushes metaphysics into the supernatural world. Dark 
 prophecies accumulated omens over his head ; men united 
 in considering him born to disastrous destinies. When- 
 ever he had sought to wrestle against hostile circum- 
 stances, some seemingly accidental cause, sudden and 
 unforeseen, had blasted the labors of his most vigorous energy, 
 the fruit of his most deliberate wisdom. Thus, by degrees, a 
 gloomy and despairing cloud settled over his mind ; but, se- 
 cretly skeptical of the Mahometan creed, and too proud and 
 sanguine to resign himself wholly and passively to the doctrine 
 of inevitable predestination, he sought to contend against the 
 machinations of hostile demons and boding stars, not by hu- 
 man but spiritual agencies. Collecting around him the seers 
 and magicians of Orient fanaticism, he lived in the visions of 
 another world ; and, flattered by the promises of impostors or 
 dreamers, and deceived by his own subtle and brooding ten- 
 dencies of mind, it was amongst spells and cabala that he 
 thought to draw forth the mighty secret which was to free him 
 from the meshes of the preternatural enemies of his fortune, 
 and leave him the freedom of other men to wrestle, with equal 
 chances, against peril and adversities. It was thus, that Alma- 
 men had won the mastery over his mind ; and, though upon 
 matters of common and earthly import, or solid learning, Boab- 
 dil could contend with sages, upon those of superstition he 
 could be fooled by a child. He was, in this, a kind of Hamlet : 
 formed, under prosperous and serene fortunes, to render bless- 
 ings and reap renown ; but over whom the chilling shadow of 
 another world had fallen ; whose soul curdled back into itself ; 
 whose life had been separated from that of the herd ; whom 
 doubts and awe drew back, while circumstances impelled on- 
 ward ; whom a supernatural doom invested with a peculiar 
 philosophy, not of human effect and cause, and who, with every 
 gift that could ennoble and adorn, was suddenly palsied into 
 that mortal imbecility, which is almost ever the result of mortal 
 visitings into the haunted regions of the Ghostly and Unknown. 
 The gloomier colorings of his mind had been deepened, too,
 
 56 LEILA. 
 
 by secret remorse. For the preservation of his own life, con- 
 stantly threatened by his unnatural predecessor, he had been 
 early driven into rebellion against his father. In age, infirm- 
 ity, and blindness, that fierce King had been made a prisoner 
 at Salobrena by his brother, El Zagal, Boabdil's partner in re- 
 bellion ; and dying suddenly, El Zagal was suspected of his 
 murder. Though Boabdil was innocent of such a crime, he 
 felt himself guilty of the causes which led to it ; and a dark 
 memory, resting upon his conscience, served to augment his 
 superstition and enervate the vigor of his resolves : for, of all 
 things that make men dreamers, none is so effectual as remorse 
 operating upon a thoughtful temperament. 
 
 Revolving the character of his sovereign, and sadly fore- 
 boding the ruin of his country, the young hero of Granada 
 pursued his way, until his steps, almost unconsciously, led him 
 towards the abode of Leila. He scaled the walls of the garden 
 as before he neared the house. All was silent and deserted : 
 his signal was unanswered, his murmured song brought no 
 grateful light to the lattice, no fairy footstep to the balcony. 
 Dejected, and sad of heart, he retired from the spot ; and, re- 
 turning home, sought a couch, to which even all the fatigue 
 and excitement he had undergone could not win the forgetful- 
 ness of slumber. The mystery that wrapt the maiden of his 
 homage, the rareness of their interviews, and the wild and 
 poetical romance that made a very principle of the chivalry of 
 the Spanish Moors, had imparted to Muza's love for Leila a 
 passionate depth, which at this day, and in more enervated 
 climes, is unknown to the Mahometan lover. His keenest in 
 quiries had been unable to pierce the secret of her birth and 
 station. Little of the inmates of that guarded and lonely house 
 was known in the neighborhood : the only one ever seen with- 
 out its walls was an old man of Jewish faith, supposed to be a 
 superintendent of the foreign slaves (for no Mahometan slave 
 would have been subjected to the insult of submission to a Jew); 
 and though there were rumors of the vast wealth and gorgeous 
 luxury within the mansion, it was supposed the abode of some 
 Moorish emir absent from the city and the interest of the 
 gossips was at this time absorbed in more weighty matters than 
 the affairs of a neighbor. But when, the next eve, and the 
 next, Muza returned to the spot equally in vain, his impatience 
 and alarm could no longer be restrained ; he resolved to lie in 
 watch by the portals of the house night and day, until, at least, 
 he could discover some one of the inmates, whom he could 
 question of his love, and perhaps bribe to his service. As with
 
 LEILA. 57 
 
 this resolution he was hovering round the mansion, he beheld, 
 stealing from a small door in one of the low wings of the house, 
 a bended and decrepit form : it supported its steps upon a 
 staff ; and as now, entering the garden, it stooped by the side 
 of a fountain to cull flowers and herbs by the light of the 
 moon, the Moor almost started to behold a countenance which 
 resembled that of some ghoul or vampire haunting the places 
 of the dead. He smiled at his own fear; and, with a quick 
 and stealthy pace, hastened through the trees, and, gaining 
 the spot where the old man bent, placed his hand on his 
 shoulder ere his presence was perceived. 
 
 Ximen for it was he looked round eagerly, and a faint 
 cry of terror broke from his lips. 
 
 "Hush!" said the Moor; "fear me not, I am a friend. 
 Thou art old, man gold is ever welcome to the aged." As 
 he spoke, he dropped several broad pieces into the breast of 
 the Jew, whose ghastly features gave forth a yet more ghastly 
 smile as he received the gift, and mumbled forth : 
 
 " Charitable young man ! Generous, benevolent, excellent 
 young man ! " 
 
 "Now then," said Muza, "tell me you belong to this 
 house Leila, the maiden within tell me of her is she 
 well?" 
 
 " I trust so," returned the Jew ; " I trust so, noble master." 
 
 " Trust so ! know you not of her state ?" 
 
 " Not I ; for many nights I have not seen her, excellent sir," 
 answered Ximen ; " she hath left Granada, she hath gone. 
 You waste your time, and mar your precious health amidst 
 these nightly dews : they are unwholesome, very unwholesome, 
 at the time of the new moon." 
 
 "Gone!" echoed the Moor ; "left Granada ! Woe is me ! 
 and whither ? There, there, more gold for you old man, tell 
 me whither ?" 
 
 " Alas ! I know not, most magnanimous young man ; I am 
 but a servant I know nothing." 
 
 " When will she return ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell thee." 
 
 " Who is thy master ? Who owns yon mansion ? " 
 
 Ximen's countenance fell ; he looked round in doubt and 
 fear, and then, after a short pause, answered : " A wealthy 
 man, good sir a Moor of Africa ; but he hath also gone ; he 
 but seldom visits us ; Granada is not so peaceful a residence 
 as it was I would go too, if I could." 
 
 Muza released his hold of Ximen, who gazed at the Moor's
 
 58 LEILA. 
 
 working countenance with a malignant smile for Ximen hated 
 all men. 
 
 " Thou hast done with me, young warrior ? Pleasant dreams 
 to thee under the new moon thou hadst best retire to thy 
 bed. Farewell ! bless thy charity to the poor old man !" 
 
 Muza heard him not ; he remained motionless for some mo- 
 ments ; and then with a heavy sigh, as that of one who has 
 gained the mastery of himself after a bitter struggle, he said, 
 half aloud, "Allah be with thee, Leila ! Granada now is my 
 only mistress." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BOABDIL'S RECONCILIATION WITH HIS PEOPLE. 
 
 SEVERAL days had elapsed without any encounter between 
 Moor and Christian ; for Ferdinand's cold and sober policy, 
 warned by the loss he had sustained in the ambush of Muza, 
 was now bent on preserving rigorous restraint upon the fiery 
 spirits he commanded. He forbade all parties of skirmish, in 
 which the Moors, indeed, had usually gained the advantage, 
 and contented himself with occupying all the passes through 
 which provisions could arrive at the besieged city. He com- 
 menced strong fortifications around his camp ; and, forbidding 
 assault on the Moors, defied it against himself. 
 
 Meanwhile, Almamen had not returned to Granada. No 
 tidings of his fate reached the King ; and his prolonged disap- 
 pearance began to produce visible and salutary effect upon the 
 long dormant energies of Boabdil. The counsels of Muza, the 
 exhortations of the Queen Mother, the enthusiasm of his mis- 
 tress, Amine, uncounteracted by the arts of the magician, 
 aroused the torpid lion of his nature. But still his army and 
 his subjects murmured against him ; and his appearance in the 
 Vivarrambla might, possibly, be the signal of revolt. It was 
 at this time that a most fortunate circumstance at once restored 
 to him the confidence and affections of his people. His stern 
 uncle, El Zagal once a rival for his crown, and whose daring 
 valor, mature age, and military sagacity, had won him a pow- 
 erful party within the city had been, some months since, con- 
 quered by Ferdinand ; and, in yielding the possessions he held, 
 had been rewarded with a barren and dependent principality. 
 His defeat, far from benefiting Boabdil, had exasperated the 
 Moors against their King. '* For," said they, almost with one 
 voice, " the brave El Zagal never would have succumbed had 
 Boabdil properly supported his arms." And it was the popular
 
 LEILA. $9 
 
 discontent and rage at El Zagal's defeat, which had, indeed, 
 served Boabdil with a reasonable excuse for shutting himself 
 in the strong fortress of the Alhambra. It now happened that 
 El Zagal, whose dominant passion was hatred of his nephew, 
 and whose fierce nature chafed at its present cage, resolved, in 
 his old age, to blast all his former fame by a signal treason to 
 his country. Forgetting everything but revenge against his 
 nephew, whom he was resolved should share his own ruin, he 
 armed his subjects, crossed the country, and appeared at the 
 head of a gallant troop in the Spanish camp, an ally with Fer- 
 dinand against Granada. When this was heard by the Moors, 
 it is impossible to conceive their indignant wrath : the crime 
 of El Zagal produced an instantaneous reaction in favor of 
 Boabdil ; the crowd surrounded the Alhambra, and with pray- 
 ers and tears entreated the forgiveness of the King. This 
 event completed the conquest of Boabdil over his own irreso- 
 lution. He ordained an assembly of the whole army in the 
 broad space of the Vivarrambla : and when at break of day he 
 appeared in full armor in the square, with Muza at his right 
 hand, himself in the flower of youthful beauty, and proud to 
 feel once more a hero and a King-, the joy of the people knew 
 no limit ; the air was rent with cries of " Long live Boabdil el 
 Chico ! " and the young monarch turning to Muza, with his 
 soul upon his brow, exclaimed : " The hour has come lam 
 no longer El Zogoybi ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LEILA. HER NEW LOVER. PORTRAIT OF THE FIRST INQUISI- 
 TOR OF SPAIN. THE CHALICE RETURNED TO THE LIPS OF 
 
 ALMAMEN. 
 
 WHILE thus the state of events within Granada, the course 
 of our story transports us back to the Christian camp. It was in 
 one of a long line of tents, that skirted the pavilion of Isabel, 
 and was appropriated to the ladies attendant on the royal pres- 
 ence, that a young female sate alone. The dusk of evening 
 already gathered around, and only the outline of her form and 
 features was visible. But even that, imperfectly seen the 
 dejected attitude of the form, the drooping head, the hands 
 clasped upon the knees might have sufficed to denote the 
 melancholy nature of the revery which the maid indulged. 
 
 "Ah," thought she, " to what danger am I exposed ! If my 
 father, if my lover dreamed of the persecution to which their 
 poor Leila is abandoned ! "
 
 6e LEILA. 
 
 A few tears, large and bitter, broke from her eyes, and stole 
 unheeded down her cheek. At that moment, the deep and 
 musical chime of a bell was heard summoning the chiefs of 
 the army to prayer ; for Ferdinand invested all his worldly 
 schemes with a religious covering, and to his politic war he 
 sought to give the imposing character of a sacred crusade. 
 
 " That sound," thought she, sinking on her knees, " summons 
 the Nazarenes to the presence of their God. It reminds me, 
 a captive by the waters of Babylon, that God is ever with the 
 friendless. Oh, succor and defend me, Thou who didst look 
 of old upon Ruth standing amidst the corn, and didst watch 
 over thy chosen people in the hungry wilderness, and in the 
 stranger's land." 
 
 Wrapt in her mute and passionate devotions, Leila remained 
 long in her touching posture. The bell had ceased ; all with- 
 out was hushed and still, when the drapery stretched across the 
 opening of the tent was lifted, and a young Spaniard, cloaked, 
 from head to foot, in a long mantle, stood within the space. 
 He gazed in silence upon the kneeling maiden ; nor was it until 
 she rose that he made his presence audible. 
 
 " Ah, fairest ! " said he then, as he attempted to take her 
 hand, " thou wilt not answer my letters see me, then, at thy 
 feet. It is thou who teachest me to kneel." 
 
 " You, Prince ! " said Leila, agitated, and in great and evi- 
 dent fear. " Why harass and insult me thus ? Am I not 
 sacred as a hostage and a charge ? And are name, honor, 
 peace, and all that woman is taught to hold most dear, to be 
 thus robbed from me, under the pretext of a love dishonoring 
 to thee and an insult to myself ? " 
 
 " Sweet one," answered Don Juan with a slight laugh, " thou 
 hast learned, within yonder walls, a creed of morals little 
 known to Moorish maidens, if fame belies them not. Suffer 
 me to teach thee easier morality and sounder logic. It is no 
 dishonor to a Christian prince to adore beauty like thine ; it is 
 no insult to a maiden hostage if the Infant of Spain proffer her 
 the homage of his heart. But we waste time. Spies, and 
 envious tongues, and vigilant eyes, are round us ; and it is not 
 often that I can baffle them, as I have done now. Fairest, 
 hear me ! " and this time he succeeded in seizing the hand, 
 which vainly struggled against his clasp. " Nay, why so coy ? 
 What can female heart desire, that my love cannot shower 
 upon thine ? Speak but the word, enchanting maiden, and I 
 will bear thee from these scenes, unseemly to thy gentle 
 eyes. Amidst the pavilions of princes shalt thou repose ; and,
 
 LEILA. 6t 
 
 amidst gardens of the orange and the rose, shalt thou listen to 
 the vows of thine adorer. Surely, in these arms thou wilt not 
 pine for a barbarous home, and a fated city. And if thy pride, 
 sweet maiden, deafen thee to the voice of nature, learn that 
 the haughtiest dames of Spain would bend, in envious court, 
 to the beloved of their future king. This night listen to me 
 I say, listen this night I will bear thee hence ! Be but mine, 
 and no matter, whether heretic or infidel, or whatever the 
 priests style thee, neither Church nor King shall tear thee from 
 the bosom of thy lover." 
 
 " It is well spoken, son of the Most Christian Monarch ! " 
 said a deep voice ; and the Dominican, Tomas de Torquem- 
 ada, stood before the Prince. 
 
 Juan, as if struck by a thunderbolt, released his hold, and, 
 staggering back a few paces, seemed to cower, abashed and 
 humbled, before the eye of the priest, as it glared upon him 
 through the gathering darkness. 
 
 " Prince," said the friar after a pause, " not to thee will our 
 holy Church attribute this crime ; thy pious heart hath been 
 betrayed by sorcery. Retire ! " 
 
 " Father," said the Prince, in a tone into which, despite his 
 awe of that terrible man, THE FIRST GRAND INQUISITOR OF 
 SPAIN, his libertine spirit involuntarily forced itself, in a half- 
 latent raillery, " sorcery of eyes like those bewitched the wise 
 son of a more pious sire than even Ferdinand of Arragon." 
 
 " He blasphemes ! " muttered the monk. " Prince, beware ! 
 You know not what you do." 
 
 The Prince lingered ; and then, as if aware that he must 
 yield, gathered his cloak round him, and left the tent without 
 reply. 
 
 Pale and trembling, with fears no less felt, perhaps, though 
 more vague and perplexed, than those from which she had just 
 been delivered, Leila stood before the monk. 
 
 " Be seated, daughter of the faithless," said Torquemada, 
 " we would converse with thee : and, as thou valuest I say 
 not thy soul, for, alas ! of that precious treasure thou art not 
 conscious but mark me, woman ! as thou prizest the safety of 
 those delicate limbs, and that wanton beauty, answer truly 
 what I shall ask thee. The man who brought thee hither is 
 he, in truth, thy father ?" 
 
 " Alas ! " answered Leila, almost fainting with terror at this 
 rude and menacing address, "he is, in truth, mine only parent." 
 
 "And his faith his religion ?" 
 
 " I have never beheld him pray."
 
 62 LEILA 
 
 " Hem ! he never prays a noticeable fact. But of what 
 sect, what creed, does he profess himself ? " 
 
 "I cannot answer thee." 
 
 " Nay, there be means that may wring from thee an answer. 
 Maiden, be not so stubborn ; speak ! Thinkest thou he serves 
 the temple of the Mahometan?" 
 
 " No ! oh, no ! " answered poor Leila eagerly, deeming that 
 her reply, in this, at least, would be acceptable. " He disowns, 
 he scorns, he 'abhors, the Moorish faith even (she added) 
 with too fierce a zeal." 
 
 " Thou dost not share that zeal, then ? Well, worships he in 
 secret after the Christian rites?" 
 
 Leila hung her head, and answered not. 
 
 " I understand thy silence. And in what belief, maiden, wert 
 thou reared beneath his roof ?" 
 
 " I know not what it is called among men," answered Leila, 
 with firmness, " but it is the faith of the ONE GOD, who pro- 
 tects his chosen, and shall avenge their wrongs the God who 
 made earth and heaven ; and who, in an idolatrous and be- 
 nighted world, transmitted the knowledge of Himself and His 
 holy laws, from age to age, through the channel of one solitary 
 people, in the plains of Palestine, and by the waters of the 
 Hebron." 
 
 "And in that faith thou wert trained, maiden, by thy father ? " 
 said the Dominican calmly. "I am satisfied. Rest here, in 
 peace : we may meet again, soon." 
 
 The last words were spoken with a soft and tranquil smile 
 a smile in which glazing eyes and agonizing hearts had often 
 beheld the ghastly omen of the torture and the stake. 
 
 On quitting the unfortunate Leila, the monk took his way 
 towards the neighboring tent of Ferdinand. But ere he reached 
 it, a new thought seemed to strike the holy man ; he altered 
 the direction of his steps, and gained one of those little shrines 
 common in Catholic countries, and which had been hastily 
 built of wood, in the centre of a small copse, and by the side of 
 a brawling rivulet, towards the back of the King's pavilion. 
 But one solitary sentry, at the entrance of the copse, guarded 
 the consecrated place ; and its exceeding loneliness and quiet 
 were a grateful contrast to the animated world of the surround- 
 ing camp. The monk entered the shrine, and fell down on 
 his knees before an image of the Virgin, rudely sculptured, 
 indeed, but richly decorated. 
 
 " Ah, Holy Mother ! " groaned this singular man, " support 
 me in the trial to which I am appointed. Thou knowest that
 
 LEILA. 63 
 
 the glory of thy blessed Son is the sole object for which I live, 
 and move, and have my being ; but at times, alas ! the spirit 
 is infected with the weakness of the flesh. Ora pro nobis, O 
 Mother of Mercy ! Verily, oftentimes my heart sinks within 
 me when it is mine to vindicate the honor of thy holy cause 
 against the young and the tender, the aged and the decrepit. 
 But what are beauty and youth, gray hairs and trembling knees, 
 in the eye of the Creator ? Miserable worms are we all ; nor 
 is there anything acceptable in the Divine sight, but the hearts 
 of the faithful. Youth without faith, age without belief, purity 
 without grace, virtue without holiness, are only more hideous 
 by their seeming beauty whited sepulchres, glittering rotten- 
 ness. I know this I know it ; but the human man is strong 
 within me. Strengthen me, that I pluck it out ; so that, by 
 diligent and constant struggle with the feeble Adam, thy ser- 
 vant may be reduced into a mere machine, to punish the god- 
 less and advance the Church." 
 
 Here sobs and tears choked the speech of the Dominican ; 
 he grovelled in the dust, he tore his hair, he howled aloud : the 
 agony was fierce upon him. At length, he drew from his robe 
 a whip, composed of several thongs studded with small and 
 sharp nails ; and, stripping his gown, and the shirt of hair 
 worn underneath, over his shoulders, applied the scourge to the 
 naked flesh, with a fury which soon covered the green sward 
 with the thick and clotted blood. The exhaustion which fol- 
 lowed this terrible penance seemed to restore the senses of the 
 stern fanatic. A smile broke over the features, that bodily 
 pain only released from the anguished expression of mental and 
 visionary struggles ; and when he rose and drew the hair-cloth 
 shirt over the lacerated and quivering flesh, he said : " Now 
 hast thou deigned to comfort and visit me, O pitying Mother ; 
 and even as by these austerities against this miserable body is 
 the spirit relieved and soothed, so dost thou typify and betoken 
 that men's bodies are not to be spared by those who seek to 
 save souls, and bring the nations of the earth into thy fold." 
 
 With that thought the countenance of Torquemada reassumed 
 its wonted rigid and passionless composure ; and, replacing 
 the scourge, yet clotted with blood, in his bosom, he pursued 
 his way to the royal tent. 
 
 He found Ferdinand poring over the accounts of the vast 
 expenses of his military preparations, which he had just received 
 from his treasurer ; and the brow of the thrifty, though osten- 
 tatious monarch, was greatly overcast by the examination. 
 
 " By the Bulls of Guisando ! " said the King gravely, " I
 
 04 LEILA. 
 
 purchase the salvation of my army, in this holy war, at a mar- 
 vellous heavy price ; and if the infidels hold out much longer, 
 we shall have to pawn our very patrimony of Arragon." 
 
 " Son," answered the Dominican, " to purposes like thine, 
 fear not that Providence itself will supply the worldly means. 
 But why doubtest thou ? Are not the means within thy reach ? 
 It is just that thou alone shouldst not support the wars by 
 which Christendom is glorified. Are there not others ?" 
 
 " I know what thou wouldst say, father," interrupted the 
 King quickly, " thou wouldst observe that my brother monarchs 
 should assist me with arms and treasure. Most just. But they 
 are avaricious and envious, Tomas ; and Mammon hath cor- 
 rupted them." 
 
 " Nay, not to kings pointed my thought." 
 
 " Well, then," resumed the King impatiently, " thou wouldst 
 imply that mine own knights and nobles should yield up their 
 coffers, and mortgage their possessions. And so they ought ; 
 but they murmur, already, at what they have yielded to our 
 necessities." 
 
 "And, in truth," rejoined the friar, " these noble warriors 
 should not be shorn of a splendor that well becomes the valiant 
 champions of the Church. Nay, listen to me, son, and I may 
 suggest a means whereby, not the friends, but enemies, of the 
 Catholic faith shall contribute to the downfall of the Paynim. 
 In thy dominions, especially those newly won, throughout 
 Andalusia, in the kingdom of Cordova, are men of enormous 
 wealth ; the very caverns of the earth are sown with the impious 
 treasure they have plundered from Christian hands, and con- 
 sume in the furtherance of their iniquity. Sire, I speak of the 
 race that crucified the Lord." 
 
 " The Jews ay, but the excuse " 
 
 " Is before thee. This traitor, with whom thou holdest inter- 
 course, who vowed to thee to render up Granada, and who was 
 found, the very next morning, fighting with the Moors, with 
 the blood of a Spanish martyr red upon his hands, did he not 
 confess that his fathers were of that hateful race ? did he not 
 bargain with thee to elevate his brethren to the rank of Chris- 
 tians ? And has he not left with thee, upon false pretences, a 
 harlot of his faith, who. by sorcery and the help of the evil one, 
 hath seduced into frantic passion the heart of the heir of the 
 most Christian king ?" 
 
 " Ha ! thus does that libertine boy ever scandalize us ! " said 
 the King bitterly. 
 
 "Well," pursued the Dominican, not heeding the interrup-
 
 LEILA. 6j 
 
 tion, " have you not here excuse enough to wring from the 
 whole race the purchase of their existence ? Note the glaring 
 proof of this conspiracy of hell. The outcasts of the earth 
 employed this crafty agent to contract with thee for power ; 
 and, to consummate their guilty designs, the arts that seduced 
 Solomon are employed against thy son. The beauty of the 
 strange woman captivates his senses ; so that through the 
 future sovereign of Spain, the counsels of Jewish craft may 
 establish the domination of Jewish ambition. How knowest thou 
 (he added, as he observed that Ferdinand listened to him with 
 earnest attention) how knowest thou but what the next step 
 might have been thy secret assassination, so that the victim of 
 witchcraft, the minion of the Jewess, might reign in the stead 
 of the mighty and unconquerable Ferdinand ?" 
 
 " Go on, father," said the King thoughtfully ; " I see, at 
 least, enough to justify an impost upon these servitors of 
 Mammon." 
 
 " But, though common-sense suggests to us," continued 
 Torquemada, " that this disguised Israelite could not have 
 acted on so vast a design without the instigation of his 
 brethren, not only in Granada, but throughout all Andalusia, 
 would it not be right to obtain from him his confession, and 
 that of the maiden, within the camp, so that we may have broad 
 and undeniable evidence whereon to act, and to still all cavil, 
 that may come not only from the godless, but even from the 
 too tender scruples of the righteous ? Even the Queen whom 
 the saints ever guard ! hath ever too soft a heart for these 
 infidels ; and " 
 
 " Right ! " cried the King, again breaking upon Torquemada ; 
 " Isabel, the Queen of Castile, must be satisfied of the justice 
 of all our actions." 
 
 "And should it be proved that thy throne or life were en- 
 dangered, and that magic was exercised to entrap her royal 
 son into a passion for a Jewish maiden, which the Church holds 
 a crime worthy of excommunication itself, surely, instead of 
 counteracting, she would assist our schemes." 
 
 " Holy friend," said Ferdinand, with energy, "ever a com- 
 forter, both for this world and the next, to thee, and to the new 
 powers intrusted to thee, we commit this charge ; see to it at 
 once ; time presses Granada is obstinate the treasury waxes 
 low." 
 
 " Son, thou hast said enough," replied the Dominican, closing 
 his eyes, and muttering a short thanksgiving. " Now then to 
 my task."
 
 66 LEILA. 
 
 " Yet stay," said the King, with an altered visage : " follow 
 me to my oratory within : my heart is heavy, and I would fain 
 seek the solace of the confessional." 
 
 The monk obeyed : and while Ferdinand, whose wonderful 
 abilities were mingled with the weakest superstition, who 
 persecuted from policy, yet believed, in his own heart, that he 
 punished but from piety, confessed, with penitent tears, the 
 grave offences of aves forgotten, and beads untold ; and while 
 the Dominican admonished, rebuked, or soothed neither prince 
 nor monk ever dreamt that there was an error to confess in, or 
 a penance to be adjudged to, the cruelty that tortured a fellow 
 being, or the avarice that sought pretences for the extortion of 
 a whole people. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE TRIBUNAL AND THE MIRACLE. 
 
 IT was the dead of night ; the army was hushed in sleep, 
 when four soldiers, belonging to the Holy Brotherhood, bear- 
 ing with them one whose manacles proclaimed him a prisoner, 
 passed in steady silence to a huge tent in the neighborhood of 
 the royal pavilion. A deep dyke, formidable barricadoes, and 
 sentries stationed at frequent intervals, testified the estimation 
 in which the safety of this segment of the camp was held. The 
 tent to which the soldiers approached was, in extent, larger 
 than even the King's pavilion itself : a mansion of canvas, sur- 
 rounded by a wide wall of massive stones ; and from its sum- 
 mit gloomed, in the clear and shining starlight, a small black 
 pennant, on which was wrought a white, broad-pointed cross. 
 The soldiers halted at the gate in the wall, resigned their 
 charge, with a whispered watchword, to two gaunt sentries ; 
 and then (relieving the sentries who proceeded on with the 
 prisoner) remained, mute and motionless, at the post ; for stern 
 silence and Spartan discipline were the attributes of the 
 brotherhood of St. Hermandad. 
 
 The prisoner, as he now neared the tent, halted a moment, 
 looked round steadily as if to fix the spot in his remembrance, 
 and then, with an impatient though stately gesture, followed 
 his guards. He passed two divisions of the tent, dimly lighted, 
 and apparently deserted. A man, clad in long black robes, 
 with a white cross on his breast, now appeared ; there was an 
 interchange of signals in dumb-show, and in another moment 
 Almamen, the Hebrew, stood within a large chamber (if so that 
 division of the tent might be called) hung with black serge,
 
 LEILA 67 
 
 At the upper part of the space was an estraao, or platform, on 
 which, by a long table, sate three men ; while at the head of the 
 board was seen the calm and rigid countenance of Tomas de 
 Torquemada. The threshold of the tent was guarded by two 
 men, in garments similar in hue and fashion to those of the fig- 
 ure who had ushered Almamen into the presence of the inquis- 
 itor, each bearing a long lance, and with a long, two-edged 
 sword by his side. This made all the inhabitants of that mel- 
 ancholy and ominous apartment. 
 
 The Israelite looked round with a pale brow, but a flashing 
 and scornful eye ; and when he met the gaze of the Domini- 
 can, it almost seemed as if those two men, each so raised above 
 his fellows by the sternness of his nature, and the energy of 
 his passions, sought by a look alone to assert his own suprem- 
 acy and crush his foe. Yet, in truth, neither did justice to 
 the other ; and the indignant disdain of Almamen was 
 retorted by the cold and icy contempt of the Dominican. 
 
 " Prisoner," said Torquemada (the first to withdraw his 
 gaze), " a less haughty and stubborn demeanor might have bet- 
 ter suited thy condition ; but no matter ; our Church is meek 
 and humble. We have sent for thee in a charitable and pater- 
 nal hope ; for although as spy and traitor thy life is already 
 forfeited, yet would we fain redeem and spare it to repentance. 
 That hope mayst thou not forego, for the nature of all of us is 
 weak and clings to life that straw of the drowning seaman." 
 
 "Priest, if such thou art," replied the Hebrew, "I have 
 already, when first brought to this camp, explained the causes 
 of my detention amongst the troops of the Moor. It was my 
 zeal for the King of Spain that brought me into that peril. 
 Escaping from that peril, incurred in his behalf, is the King of 
 Spain to be my accuser and my judge ? If, however, my life now 
 be sought as the grateful return for the proffer of inestimable 
 service, I stand here to yield it. Do thy worst ; and tell thy 
 master that he loses more by my death than he can win by the 
 lives of thirty thousand warriors." 
 
 "Cease this idle babble," said the monk-inquisitor con- 
 temptuously, " nor think thou couldst ever deceive, with thy 
 empty words, the mighty intellect of Ferdinand of Spain. 
 Thou hast now to defend thyself against still graver charges 
 than those of treachery to the King whom thou didst profess 
 to serve. Yea, misbeliever as thou art, it is thine to vindicate 
 thyself from blasphemy against the God thou shouldst adore. 
 Confess the truth : thou art of the tribe and faith of Israel ? " 
 
 The Hebrew frowned darkly. "Man," said he solemnly,
 
 68 LEILA. 
 
 <; is a judge of the deeds of men, but not of their opinions. I 
 will not answer thee." 
 
 " Pause ! We have means at hand that the strongest nerves 
 and the stoutest hearts have failed to encounter. Pause 
 confess ! " 
 
 "Thy threat awes me not," said the Hebrew : "but I am 
 human ; and since thou wouldst know the truth, thou mayst 
 learn it without the torture. I am of the same race as the 
 Apostles of thy Church I am a Jew." 
 
 " He confesses write down the words. Prisoner, thou hast 
 done wisely ; and we pray the Lord that, acting thus, thou 
 mayst escape both the torture and the death. And in that 
 faith thy daughter was reared ? Answer." 
 
 ' My daughter ! There is no charge against her! By the 
 God of Sinai and Horeb, you dare not touch a hair of that 
 innocent head ! " 
 
 "Answer," repeated the inquisitor coldly. 
 
 " I do answer. She was brought up no renegade to her 
 father's faith." 
 
 " Write down the confession. Prisoner," resumed the Domin- 
 ican, after a pause, "but few more questions remain ; answer 
 them truly, and thy life is saved. In thy conspiracy to raise 
 thy brotherhood of Andalusia to power and influence or, as 
 thou didst craftily term it, to equal laws with the followers of 
 our blessed Lord in thy conspiracy (by what dark arts I seek 
 not now to know protege nos, beate Domine /) to entangle in 
 wanton affections to thy daughter the heart of the Infant of 
 Spain silence, I say be still ! in this conspiracy thou wert 
 aided, abetted, or instigated by certain Jews of Andalusia 
 
 " Hold, priest ! " cried Almamen impetuously, " thou didst 
 name my child. Do I hear aright ? Placed under the sacred 
 charge of a king and a belted knight, has she oh ! answer me, 
 I implore thee been insulted by the licentious addresses of 
 one of that King's own lineage ? Answer ! I am a Jew but 
 I am a father, and a man." 
 
 "This pretended passion deceives us not," said the Domini- 
 can (who, himself cut off from the ties of life, knew nothing of 
 their power). " Reply to the question put to thee : name thy 
 accomplices." 
 
 " I have told thee all. Thou hast refused to answer me. I 
 scorn and defy thee : my lips are closed." 
 
 The Grand Inquisitor glanced to his brethren, and raised 
 his hand. His assistants whispered each other ; one of them 
 rose, and disappeared behind the canvas at the back of the
 
 LEILA. 69 
 
 tent. Presently the hangings were withdrawn ; and the pris- 
 oner beheld an interior chamber, hung with various instru- 
 ments, the nature of which was betrayed by their very shape : 
 while by the rack, placed in the centre of that dreary chamber, 
 stood a tall and grisly figure, his arms bare, his eyes bent, as 
 by an instinct, on the prisoner. 
 
 Almamen gazed at these dread preparations with an unflinch- 
 ing aspect. The guards at the entrance of the tent approached ; 
 they struck off the fetters from his feet and hands ; they led 
 him towards the appointed place of torture. 
 
 Suddenly the Israelite paused. 
 
 " Priest," said he, in a more humble accent than he had yet 
 assumed, " the tidings that thou didst communicate to me 
 respecting the sole daughter of my house and love bewildered 
 and confused me for the moment. Suffer me but for a single 
 moment to recollect my senses, and I will answer without com- 
 pulsion all thou mayest ask. Permit thy question to be repeated." 
 
 The Dominican, whose cruelty to others seemed to himself 
 sanctioned by his own insensibility to fear, and contempt for 
 bodily pain, smiled with bitter scorn at the apparent vacillation 
 and weakness of the prisoner : but, as he delighted not in 
 torture merely for torture's sake, he motioned to the guards to 
 release the Israelite ; and replied in a voice unnaturally mild 
 and kindly, considering the circumstances of the scene: 
 
 " Prisoner," could we save thee from pain, even by the 
 anguish of our own flesh and sinews, Heaven is our judge that 
 we would willingly undergo the torture which, with grief and 
 sorrow, we ordained to thee. Pause take breath collect thy- 
 self. Three minutes shall thou have to consider what course 
 to adopt ere we repeat the question. But then beware how 
 thou triflest with our indulgence." 
 
 "It suffices I thank thee," said the Hebrew, with a touch 
 of gratitude in his voice. As he spoke, he bent his face within 
 his bosom, which he covered, as in profound meditation, with 
 the folds of his long robe. Scarce half the brief time allowed 
 him had expired, when he again lifted his countenance, and, as 
 he did so, flung back his garment. The Dominican uttered a 
 loud cry ; the guards started back in awe. A wonderful 
 change had come over the intended victim ; he seemed to 
 stand amongst them literally wrapt in fire ; flames burst from 
 his lip, and played with his long locks, as, catching the glowing 
 hue, they curled over his shoulders, like serpents of burning 
 light : blood-red were his breast and limbs, his haughty -crest, 
 and his outstretched arm ; and as, for a single moment, he met
 
 70 LEILA. 
 
 the shuddering eyes of his judges, he seemed, indeed, to verify 
 all the superstitions of the time no longer the trembling cap- 
 tive, but the mighty demon, or the terrible magician. 
 
 The Dominican was the first to recover his self-possession. 
 " Seize the enchanter ! " he exclaimed ; but no man stirred. 
 Ere yet the exclamation had died on his lip, Almamen took 
 from his breast a phial, and dashed it on the ground ; it broke 
 into a thousand shivers : a mist rose over the apartment it 
 spread, thickened, darkened, as a sudden night ; the lamps 
 could not pierce it. The luminous form of the Hebrew grew 
 dull and dim, until it vanished in the shade. On every eye 
 blindness seemed to fall. There was a dead silence, broken by 
 a cry and groan ; and when, after some minutes, the darkness 
 gradually dispersed, Almamen was gone. One of the guards lay 
 bathed in blood upon the ground ; they raised him ; he had 
 attempted to seize the prisoner, and had been stricken with a 
 mortal wound. He died as he faltered forth the explanation. 
 In the confusion and dismay of the scene, none noticed, till 
 long afterwards, that the prisoner had paused long enough to 
 strip the dying guard of his long mantle ; a proof that he feared 
 his more secret arts might not suffice to bear him safe through 
 the camp, without the aid of worldly stratagem. 
 
 " The fiend has been amongst us ! " said the Dominican 
 solemnly, falling on his knees, " let us pray ! " 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ISABEL AND THE JEWISH MAIDEN. 
 
 WHILE this scene took place before the tribunal of Tor- 
 quemada, Leila had been summoned from the indulgence of 
 fears which her gentle nature and her luxurious nurturing had 
 ill fitted her to contend against, to the presence of the Queen. 
 That gifted and high-spirited princess, whose virtues were her 
 own, whose faults were of her age, was not, it is true, without 
 the superstition and something of the intolerant spirit of her 
 royal spouse : but, even where her faith assented to persecu- 
 tion, her heart ever inclined to mercy ; and it was her voice
 
 LEILA. yt 
 
 alone that ever counteracted the fiery zeal of Torquemada, and 
 mitigated the sufferings of the unhappy ones who fell under 
 the suspicion of heresy. She had, happily, too, within her a 
 strong sense of justice, as well as the sentiment of compassion ; 
 and often, when she could not save the accused, she prevented 
 the consequences of his imputed crime falling upon the inno- 
 cent members of his house or tribe. 
 
 In the interval between his conversation with Ferdinand and 
 the examination of Almamen, the Dominican had sought the 
 Queen ; and had placed before her, in glowing colors, not only 
 the treason of Almamen, but the consequences of the impious 
 passion her son had conceived for Leila. In that day, any 
 connection between a Christian knight and a Jewess was deemed 
 a sin scarce expiable ; and Isabel conceived all that horror of 
 her son's offence which was natural in a pious mother and a 
 haughty queen. But, despite all the arguments of the friar, 
 she could not be prevailed upon to render up Leila to the tri- 
 bunal of the Inquisition ; and that dread court, but newly 
 established, did not dare, without her consent, to seize upon 
 one under the immediate protection of the Queen. 
 
 " Fear not, father," said Isabel, with quiet firmness, " I will 
 take upon myself to examine the maiden ; and, at least, I will 
 see her removed from all chance of tempting or being tempted 
 by this graceless boy. But she was placed under charge of the 
 King and myself as a hostage and a trust ; we accepted the 
 charge, and our royal honor is pledged to the safety of the 
 maiden. Heaven forbid that I should deny the existence of 
 sorcery, assured as we are of its emanation from the Evil One ; 
 but I fear, in this fancy of Juan's, that the -maiden is more 
 sinned against than sinning : and yet my son is, doubtless, not 
 aware of the unhappy faith of the Jewess ; the knowledge of 
 which alone will suffice to cure him of his error. You shake 
 your head, father ; but, I repeat, I will act in this affair so as 
 to merit the confidence I demand. Go, good Tomas. We 
 have not reigned so long without belief in our power to 
 control and deal with a simple maiden." 
 
 The Queen extended her hand to the monk, with a smile so 
 sweet in its dignity that it softened even that rugged heart ; 
 and with a reluctant sigh and a murmured prayer that her 
 counsels might be guided for the best, Torquemada left the 
 royal presence. 
 
 " The poor child ! " thought Isabel, those tender limbs and 
 that fragile form are ill fitted for yon monk's stern tutelage. 
 She seems gentle ; and her face has in it all the yielding soft-
 
 72 LEILA. 
 
 ness of our sex : doubtless by mild means she may be per- 
 suaded to abjure her wretched creed ; and the shade of some 
 holy convent may hide her alike from the licentious gaze of 
 my son and the iron zeal of the Inquisitor. I will see her." 
 
 When Leila entered the Queen's pavilion, Isabel, who was 
 alone, marked her trembling step with a compassionate eye ; and 
 as Leila, in obedience to the Queen's request, threw up her veil, 
 the paleness of her cheek, and the traces of recent tears, ap- 
 pealed to Isabel's heart with more success than had attended 
 all the pious invectives of Torquemada. 
 
 "Maiden," said Isabel encouragingly, " I fear thou hast been 
 strangely harassed by the thoughtless caprice of the young 
 Prince. Think of it no more. But, if thou art what I have 
 ventured to believe, and to assert thee to be, cheerfully sub- 
 scribe to the means I will suggest for preventing the continu- 
 ance of addresses which cannot but injure thy fair name." 
 
 " Ah, madam ! " said Leila, as she fell on one knee beside 
 the Queen, " most joyfully, most gratefully, will I accept any 
 asylum which proffers solitude and peace." 
 
 " The asylum to which I would fain lead thy steps," an- 
 swered Isabel gently, " is indeed one whose solitude is holy, 
 whose peace is that of heaven. But of this hereafter. Thou 
 wilt not hesitate, then, to quit the camp, unknown to the Prince, 
 and ere he can again seek thee ? " 
 
 " Hesitate, Madam ? Ah ! rather, how shall I express my 
 thanks ? " 
 
 " I did not read that face misjudgingly," thought the Queen, 
 as she resumed. " Be it so ; we will not lose another night. 
 Withdraw yonder, through the inner tent ; the litter shall be 
 straight prepared for thee ; and ere midnight thou shalt sleep 
 in safety under the roof of one of the bravest knights and no- 
 blest ladies that our realm can boast. Thou shalt bear with thee 
 a letter that shall commend thee specially to the care of thy 
 hostess thou wilt find her of a kindly and fostering nature. 
 And, oh, maiden ! " added the Queen, with benevolent warmth, 
 " steel not thy heart against her listen with ductile senses to 
 her gentle ministry ; and may God and His Son prosper that 
 pious lady's counsel, so that it may win a new strayling to the 
 Immortal Fold ! " 
 
 Leila listened and wondered, but made no answer ; until, as 
 she gained the entrance to the interior division of the tent, she 
 stopped abruptly, and said : 
 
 " Pardon me, gracious Queen, but dare I ask thee one ques- 
 tion it is not of myself ? "
 
 LEILA. 73 
 
 " Speak, and fear not." 
 
 " My father hath aught been heard of him ? He promised 
 that ere the fifth day were past he would once more see his 
 child ; and, alas ! that date is past, and I am still alone in the 
 dwelling oi" the stranger ! " 
 
 "Unhappy child ! " muttered Isabel to herself, "thouknow- 
 est not his treason nor his fate yet why shouldstthou ? Igno- 
 rant of what would render thee blest hereafter, continue igno- 
 rant of what would afflict thee here. Be cheered, maiden," 
 answered the Queen aloud. " No doubt there are reasons suf- 
 ficient to forbid your meeting. But thou shalt not lack friends 
 in the dwelling-house of the stranger." 
 
 " Ah, noble Queen, pardon me, and one word more ! There 
 hath been with me more than once a stern old man, whose 
 voice freezes the blood within my veins ; he questions me of 
 my father, and in the tone of a foe who would entrap from the 
 child something to the peril of the sire. That man thou. 
 knowest him, gracious Queen he cannot have the power to 
 harm my father ?" 
 
 " Peace, maiden ! the man thou speakest of is the priest of 
 God ; and the innocent have nothing to dread from his rev- 
 erend zeal. For thyself, I say again, be cheered ; in the home 
 to which I consign thee thou wilt see him no more. Take 
 comfort, poor child weep not : all have their cares ; our duty 
 is to bear in this life, reserving hope only for the next." 
 
 The Queen, destined herself to those domestic afflictions 
 which pomp cannot soothe, nor power allay, spoke with a pro- 
 phetic sadness which yet more touched a heart that her kind- 
 ness of look and tone had already softened ; and in the impulse 
 of a nature never tutored in the rigid ceremonials of that stately 
 court, Leila suddenly came forward, and, falling on one knee, 
 seized the hand of her protectress, and kissed it warmly through 
 her tears. 
 
 " Are you, too, unhappy ?" she said, " I will pray for you 
 to my God ! " 
 
 The Queen, surprised and moved at an action, which, had 
 witnesses been present, would only perhaps (for such is human 
 nature) have offended her Castilian prejudices, left her hand 
 in Leila's grateful clasp ; and laying the other upon the parted 
 and luxuriant ringlets of the kneeling maiden, said gently : 
 " And thy prayers shall avail thee and me when thy God and 
 mine are the same. Bless thee, maiden ! I am a mother ; 
 thou art motherless bless thee ! "
 
 74 LEILA. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE TEMPTATION OF THE JEWESS, IN WHICH THE HISTORY 
 PASSES FROM THE OUTWARD TO THE INTERNAL. 
 
 IT was about the very hour, almost the very moment, in 
 which Almamen effected his mysterious escape from the tent 
 of the Inquisition, that the train accompanying the litter which 
 bore Leila, and which was composed of some chosen soldiers 
 of Isabel's own body-guard, after traversing the camp, winding 
 along that part of the mountainous defile which was in the pos- 
 session of the Spaniards, and ascending a high and steep accliv- 
 ity, halted before the gates of a strongly fortified castle 
 renowned in the chronicles of that memorable war. The hoarse 
 challenge of the sentry, the grating of jealous bars, the clank 
 of hoofs upon the rough pavement of the courts, and the 
 streaming glare of torches falling upon stern and bearded visa- 
 ges, and imparting a ruddier glow, to the moonlit buttresses and 
 battlements of the fortress, aroused Leila from a kind of torpor 
 rather than sleep, in which the fatigue and excitement of the 
 day had steeped her senses. An old seneschal conducted her, 
 through vast and gloomy halls (how unlike the brilliant cham- 
 bers and fantastic arcades of her Moorish home !) to a huge 
 Gothic apartment, hung with the arras of Flemish looms. In 
 a few moments maidens, hastily aroused from slumber, 
 grouped around her with a respect which would certainly not 
 have been accorded had her birth and creed been known. 
 They gazed with surprise at her extraordinary beauty and 
 foreign garb, and evidently considered the new guest a 
 welcome addition to the scanty society of the castle. Under 
 any other circumstances, the strangeness of all she saw, and 
 the frowning gloom of the chamber to which she was consigned, 
 would have damped the spirits of one whose destiny had so 
 suddenly passed from the deepest quiet into the sternest 
 excitement. But any change was a relief to the roar of the 
 camp, the addresses of the Prince, and the ominous voice 
 and countenance of Torquemada ; and Leila looked around 
 her, with the feeling that the Queen's promise was fulfilled, 
 and that she was already amidst the blessings of shelter and 
 repose. It was long, however, before sleep revisited her eye- 
 lids, and when she woke the noonday sun streamed broadly 
 through the lattice. By the bedside sat a matron advanced in 
 years, but of a mild and prepossessing countenance, which 
 only borrowed a yet more attractive charm from an expression
 
 LEILA. 75 
 
 of placid and habitual melancholy. She was robed in black ; 
 but the rich pearls that were interwoven in the sleeves and 
 stomacher, the jewelled cross that was appended from a chain 
 of massive gold, and, still more, a certain air of dignity and 
 command, bespoke, even to the inexperienced eye of Leila, the 
 evidence of superior station. 
 
 " Thou hast slept late, daughter," said the lady, with a 
 benevolent smile ; " may thy slumbers have refreshed thee ! 
 Accept my regrets that I knew not till this morning of thine 
 arrival, or I should have been the first to welcome the charge 
 of my royal mistress." 
 
 There was in the look, much more than in the words, of the 
 Donna Inez de Quexada, a soothing and tender interest that 
 was as balm to the heart of Leila ; in truth, she had been 
 made the guest of, perhaps, the only lady in Spain, of pure 
 and Christian blood, who did not despise or execrate the name 
 of Leila's tribe. Donna Inez had herself contracted to a Jew 
 a debt of gratitude which she had sought to return to the 
 whole race. Many years before the time in which our tale is 
 cast, her husband and herself had been sojourning at Naples, 
 then closely connected with the politics of Spain, upon an 
 important state mission. They had then an only son, a youth 
 of a wild and desultory character, whom the spirit of adven- 
 ture allured to the East. In one of those sultry lands the 
 young Quexada was saved from the hands of robbers by the 
 caravanserai of a wealthy traveller. With this stranger he 
 contracted that intimacy which wandering and romantic 
 men often conceive for each other, without any other sym- 
 pathy than that of the same pursuits. Subsequently, he dis- 
 covered that his companion was of the Jewish faith ; and, 
 with the usual prejudice of his birth and time, recoiled from 
 the friendship he had solicited, and shrank from the sense of 
 the obligation he had incurred : he quitted his companion. 
 Wearied, at length, with travel, he was journeying homeward, 
 when he was seized with a sudden and virulent fever, mis- 
 taken for the plague : all fled from the contagion of the sup- 
 posed pestilence he was left to die. One man discovered his 
 condition, watched, tended, and, skilled in the deeper secrets 
 of the healing art, restored him to life and health : it was the 
 same Jew who had preserved him from the robbers. At this 
 second and more inestimable obligation, the prejudices of the 
 Spaniard vanished : he formed a deep and grateful attachment 
 for his preserver ; they lived together for some time, and the 
 Israelite finally accompanied the young Quexada to Naples.
 
 76 LEILA. 
 
 Inez retained a lively sense of the service rendered to her only 
 son ; and the impression had been increased, not only by the 
 appearance of the Israelite, which, dignified and stately, bore 
 no likeness to the cringing servility of his brethren, but also by 
 the singular beauty and gentle deportment of his then newly 
 wed bride, whom he had wooed and won in that holy land, 
 sacred equally to the faith of Christian and of Jew. The young 
 Quexada did not long survive his return : his constitution was 
 broken by long travel, and the debility that followed his fierce 
 disease. On his death-bed he had besought the mother whom 
 he left childless, and whose Catholic prejudices were less stub- 
 born than those of his sire, never to forget the services a Jew 
 had conferred upon him ; to make the sole recompense in her 
 power the sole recompense the Jew himself had demanded 
 and to lose no occasion to soothe or mitigate the miseries to 
 which the bigotry of the time often exposed the oppressed race 
 of his deliverer. Donna Inez had faithfully kept the promise 
 she gave to the last scion of her house ; and through the power 
 and reputation of her husband and her own connections, and 
 still more through an early friendship with the queen, she had, 
 on her return to Spain, been enabled to ward off many a perse- 
 cution, and many a charge on false pretences, to which the 
 wealth of some son of Israel made the cause, while his faith 
 made the pretext. Yet, with all the natural feelings of a rigid 
 Catholic, she had earnestly sought to render the favor she had 
 thus obtained amongst the Jews minister to her pious zeal for 
 their more than temporal welfare. She had endeavored, by 
 gentle means, to make the conversions which force was impo- 
 tent to effect ; and, in some instances, her success had been 
 signal. The good senora had thus obtained high renown for 
 sanctity ; and Isabel thought rightly, that she could not select 
 a protectress for Leila who would more kindly shelter her youth, 
 or more strenuously labor for her salvation. It was, indeed, a 
 dangerous situation for the adherence of the maiden to that 
 faith which it had caused her fiery father so many sacrifices to 
 preserve and to advance. 
 
 It was by little and little that Donna Inez sought rather to 
 undermine than to storm the mental fortress, she hoped to man 
 with spiritual allies ; and in her frequent conversations with 
 Leila, she was at once perplexed and astonished by the simple 
 and sublime nature of the belief upon which she waged war. 
 For whether it was that, in his desire to preserve Leila as much 
 as possible from contact even with Jews themselves, whose 
 general character (vitiated by the oppression which engendered
 
 LEILA. 77 
 
 meanness, and the extortion which fostered avarice) Almamen 
 regarded with lofty though concealed repugnance ; or whether 
 it was, that his philosophy did not interpret the Jewish formula 
 of belief in the same spirit as the herd, the religion inculcated 
 in the breast of Leila was different from that which Inez had ever 
 before encountered amongst her proselytes. It was less mun- 
 dane and material a kind of passionate rather than metaphys- 
 ical theism, which invested the great ONE, indeed, with 
 many human sympathies and attributes, but still left Him the 
 august and awful God of the Genesis, the Father of a Universe, 
 though the individual Protector of a fallen sect. Her atten- 
 tion had been less directed to whatever appears, to a super- 
 ficial gaze, stern and inexorable in the character of the Hebrew 
 God, and which the religion of Christ so beautifully softened 
 and so majestically refined, than to those passages in which 
 His love watched over a chosen people, and His forbearance 
 bore with their transgressions. Her reason had been worked 
 upon to its belief by that mysterious and solemn agency, by 
 which when the whole world beside was bowed to the worship 
 of innumerable deities, and the adoration of graven images 
 in a small and secluded portion of earth, amongst a people far 
 less civilized and philosophical than many by which they were 
 surrounded, had been alone preserved a pure and sublime 
 theism, disdaining a likeness in the things of heaven or 
 earth. Leila knew little of the more narrow and exclusive 
 tenets of her brethren : a Jewess in name, she was rather a 
 deist in belief ; a deist of such a creed as Athenian schools 
 might have taught to the imaginative pupils of Plato, save only 
 that too dark a shadow had been cast over the hopes of 
 another world. Without the absolute denial of the Sadducee, 
 Almamen had probably much of the quiet skepticism which 
 belonged to many sects of the early Jews, and which still 
 clings round the wisdom of the wisest who reject the doctrine 
 of Revelation ; and while he had not sought to eradicate from 
 the breast of his daughter any of the vague desire which points 
 to a Hereafter, he had never, at least, directed her thoughts or 
 aspirations to that solemn future. Nor in the sacred book 
 which was given to her survey, and which so rigidly upheld 
 the unity of the Supreme Power, was there that positive and 
 unequivocal assurance of life beyond " the grave, where all 
 things are forgotten," that might supply the deficiencies of her 
 moral instructor. Perhaps, sharing those notions of the differ- 
 ent value of the sexes prevalent, from the remotest period, in 
 his beloved and ancestral East, Almamen might have hopes
 
 ^8 LEILA. 
 
 for himself which did not extend to his child. And thus she 
 grew up, with all the beautiful faculties of the soul cherished 
 and unfolded, without thought, without more than dim and 
 shadowy conjectures, of the Eternal Bourne to which the sor- 
 rowing pilgrim of the earth is bound. It was on this point 
 that the quick eye of Donna Inez discovered her faith was 
 vulnerable : who would not, if belief were voluntary, believe in 
 the world to come ? Leila's curiosity and interest were aroused: 
 she willingly listened to her new guide ; she willingly inclined 
 to conclusions pressed upon her, not with menace, but persua- 
 sion. Free from the stubborn associations, the sectarian prej- 
 udices, and unversed in the peculiar traditions and accounts 
 of the learned of her race, she found nothing to shock her in 
 the volume which seemed but a continuation of the elder 
 writings of her faith. The sufferings of the Messiah, His sub- 
 lime purity, His meek forgiveness, spoke to her woman's 
 heart ; His doctrines elevated, while they charmed, her reason : 
 and in a Heaven that a Divine hand opened to all the humble 
 as the proud, the oppressed as the oppressor, to the woman as 
 to the lords of the earth she found a haven for all the doubts 
 she had known, and for the despair which of late had darkened 
 the face of earth. Her home lost, the deep and beautiful love 
 of her youth blighted that was a creed almost irresistible which 
 told her that grief was but for a day, that happiness was eternal. 
 Far, too, from revolting such of the Hebrew pride of associa- 
 tion as she had formed, the birth of the Messiah in the land 
 of the Israelites seemed to consummate their peculiar triumph 
 as the Elected of Jehovah. And while she mourned for the 
 Jews who persecuted the Saviour, she gloried in those whose 
 belief had carried the name and worship of the descendants of 
 David over the furthest regions of the world. Often she per- 
 plexed and startled the worthy Inez by exclaiming : " This, 
 your belief, is the same as mine, adding only the assurance of 
 immortal life Christianity is but the Revelation of Judaism." 
 The wise and gentle instrument of Leila's conversion did 
 not, however, give vent to those more Catholic sentiments 
 which might have scared away the wings of the descending 
 dove. She forebore too vehemently to point out the distinc- 
 tions of the several creeds, and rather suffered them to melt 
 insensibly one into the other : Leila was a Christian, while she 
 still believed herself a Jewess. But in the fond and lovely 
 weakness of mortal emotions, there was one bitter thought 
 that often and often came to mar the peace that otherwise 
 would have settled on her soul. That father, the sole softener
 
 LEILA. ^9 
 
 of whose stern heart and mysterious fate she was, with what 
 pangs would he receive the news of her conversion ! And 
 Muza, that bright and hero- vision of her youth was she not 
 setting the last seal of separation upon all hope of union with 
 the idol of the Moors ? But, alas ! was she not already sepa- 
 rated from him, and had not their faiths been from the first at 
 variance? From these thoughts she started with sighs and 
 tears ; and before her stood the crucifix already admitted into 
 her chamber, and not, perhaps, too wisely banished so 
 rigidly from the oratories of the Huguenot. For the represen- 
 tation of that divine resignation, that mortal agony, that mirac- 
 ulous sacrifice, what eloquence it hath for our sorrows ! 
 what preaching hath the symbol to the vanities of our wishes, 
 to the yearnings of our discontent ! 
 
 By degrees, as her new faith grew confirmed, Leila now 
 inclined herself earnestly to those pictures of the sanctity and 
 calm of the conventual life which Inez delighted to draw. In 
 the reaction of her thoughts, and her despondency of all 
 worldly happiness, there seemed, to the young maiden, an inex- 
 pressible charm in a solitude which was to release her forever 
 from human love, and render her entirely up to sacred visions 
 and imperishable hopes. And with this selfish, there mingled a 
 more generous and sublime sentiment. The prayers of a con- 
 vert might be heard in favor of those yet benighted ; and the 
 awful curse upon her outcast race be lightened by the orisons of 
 one humble heart. In all ages, in all creeds, a strange and 
 mystic impression has existed of the efficacy of self-sacrifice in 
 working the redemption even of a whole people : this belief, 
 so strong in the old orient and classic religions, was yet more 
 confirmed by Christianity a creed founded upon the grandest 
 of historic sacrifices ; and the lofty doctrine of which, rightly 
 understood, perpetuates in the heart of every believer the duty 
 of self-immolation, as well as faith in the power of prayer, no 
 matter how great the object, how mean the supplicator. On 
 these thoughts Leila meditated, till thoughts acquired the 
 intensity of passions, and the conversion of the Jewess was 
 completed. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE HOUR AND THE MAN. 
 
 IT was on the third morning after the King of Granada, rec- 
 onciled to his people, had reviewed his gallant army in the 
 Vivarrambla ; and Bpabdil, surrounded by his chiefs and
 
 8o LEILA. 
 
 nobles, was planning a deliberate and decisive battle, by 
 assault on the Christian camp, when a scout suddenly arrived, 
 breathless, at the gates of the palace, to communicate the un- 
 looked-for and welcome intelligence that Ferdinand had in 
 the night broken up his camp, and marched across the moun- 
 tains towards Cordova. In fact, the outbreak of formidable 
 conspiracies had suddenly rendered the appearance of Ferdi- 
 nand necessary elsewhere ; and, his intrigues with Almamen 
 frustrated, he despaired of a very speedy conquest of the city. 
 The Spanish King resolved, therefore, after completing the 
 devastation of the Vega, to defer the formal and prolonged 
 siege, which could alone place Granada within his power, until 
 his attention was no longer distracted to other foes, and until, 
 it must be added, he had replenished an exhausted treasury. 
 He had formed, with Torquemada, a vast and wide scheme of 
 persecution, not only against Jews, but against Christians whose 
 fathers had been of that race, and who were suspected of relaps- 
 ing into Judaical practices. The two schemers of this grand 
 design were actuated by different motives ; the one wished to 
 exterminate the crime, the other to sell forgiveness for it. And 
 Torquemada connived at the griping avarice of the King be- 
 cause it served to give to himself, and to the infant Inquisition, 
 a power and authority which the Dominican foresaw would be 
 soon greater even than those of royalty itself, and which, he 
 imagined, by scourging earth, would redound to the interests of 
 Heaven. 
 
 The strange disappearance of Almamen, which was distorted 
 and exaggerated by the credulity of the Spaniards into an 
 event of the most terrific character, served to complete the 
 chain of evidence against the wealthy Jews, and Jew-descended 
 Spaniards, of Andalusia ; and while, in imagination, the King 
 already clutched the gold of their redemption here, the Domin- 
 ican kindled the flame that was to light them to punishment 
 hereafter. 
 
 Boabdil and his chiefs received the intelligence of the Span- 
 ish retreat with a doubt which soon yielded to the most tri- 
 umphant delight. Boabdil at once resumed all the energy 
 for which, though but by fits and starts his earlier youth had 
 been remarkable. 
 
 " Alia Achbar ! God is great ! " cried he ; " we will not 
 remain here till it suit the foe to confine the eagle again to his 
 eyrie. They have left us we will burst on them. Summon 
 our alfaquis, we will proclaim a holy war ! The sovereign of 
 the last possessions of the Moors is in the field. Not a town
 
 LEILA. 8l 
 
 that contains a Moslem but shall receive our summons, and we 
 will gather round our standard all the children of our faith ! " 
 
 " May the King live forever ! " cried the council, with one 
 voice. 
 
 " Lose not a moment," resumed Boabdil "on to the Vivar- 
 rambla, marshal the troops Muza heads the cavalry, myself our 
 foot. Ere the sun's shadow reach yonder forest, our army shall 
 be on its march." 
 
 The warriors, hastily and in joy, left the palace ; and when 
 he was alone, Boabdil again relapsed into his wonted irresolu- 
 tion. After striding to and fro some minutes in anxious 
 thought, he abruptly quitted the hall of council, and passed 
 into the more private chambers of the palace, till he came to a 
 door strongly guarded by plates of iron. It yielded easily, 
 however, to a small key which he carried in his girdle ; and 
 Boabdil stood in a small circular room, apparently without 
 other door or outlet ; but, after looking cautiously round, the 
 King touched a secret spring in the wall, which, giving way, 
 discovered a niche, in which stood a small lamp, burning with 
 the purest naphtha, and a scroll of yellow parchment covered 
 with strange letters and hieroglyphics. He thrust the scroll in 
 his bosom, took the lamp in his hand, and pressing another 
 spring within the niche, the wall receded, and showed a narrow 
 and winding staircase. The King reclosed the entrance, and 
 descended : the stairs led, at last, into damp and rough pas- 
 sages ; and the murmur of waters, that reached his ear through 
 the thick walls, indicated the subterranean nature of the soil 
 through which they were hewn. The lamp burned clear and 
 steady through the darkness of the place ; and Boabdil proceeded 
 with such impatient rapidity, that the distance (in reality, con- 
 siderable) which he traversed, before he arrived at his destined 
 bourne, was quickly measured. He came at last into a wide 
 cavern, guarded by doors concealed and secret as those which 
 had screened the entrance from the upper air. He was in one 
 of the many vaults which made the mighty cemetery of the 
 monarchs of Granada ; and before him stood the robed and 
 crowned skeleton, and before him glowed the magic dial-plate, 
 of which he had spoken in his interview with Muza. 
 
 " Oh, dread and awful image ! " cried the King, throwing 
 himself on his knees before the skeleton, " shadow of what was 
 once a king wise in council, and terrible in war, if in those 
 hollow bones yet lurks the impalpable and unseen spirit, hear 
 thy repentant son. Forgive, while it is yet time, the rebellion 
 of his fiery youth, and suffer thy daring soul to animate the
 
 82 LEILA. 
 
 doubt and weakness of his own. I go forth to battle, waiting 
 not the signal thou didst ordain. Let not the penance for a 
 rashness, to which fate urges me on, attach to my country, but 
 to me. And if I perish in the field, may my evil destinies be 
 buried with me, and a worthier monarch redeem my errors, 
 and preserve Granada ! " 
 
 As the King raised his looks, the unrelaxed grin of the grim 
 dead, made yet more hideous by the mockery of the diadem 
 and the royal robe, froze back to ice the passion and sorrow at 
 his heart. He shuddered, and rose with a deep sigh ; when, as 
 his eyes mechanically followed the lifted arm of the skeleton, 
 he beheld, with mingled delight and awe, the hitherto motionless 
 finger of the dial-plate pass slowly on, and rest at the word so 
 long and so impatiently desired. "ARM!" cried the King, 
 " Do I read aright ? are my prayers heard ? " A low and 
 deep sound, like that of subterranean thunder, boomed through 
 the chamber ; and in the same instant the wall opened, and 
 the King beheld the long-expected figure of Almamen, the 
 magician. But no longer was that stately form clad in the 
 loose and peaceful garb of the Eastern santon. Complete 
 armor cased his broad breast and sinewy limbs ; his head 
 alone was bare, and his prominent and impressive features were 
 lighted, not with mystical enthusiasm, but with warlike energy. 
 In his right hand he carried a drawn sword, his left supported 
 the staff of a snow-white and dazzling banner. 
 
 So sudden was the apparition, and so excited the mind of 
 the King, that the sight of a supernatural being could scarcely 
 have impressed him with more amaze and awe. 
 
 " King of Granada," said Almamen, " the hour hath come at 
 last : go forth and conquer! With the Christian monarch there 
 is no hope of peace or compact. At thy request I sought him, 
 but my spells alone preserved the life of thy herald. Rejoice ! 
 for thine evil destinies have rolled away from thy spirit, like a 
 cloud from the glory of the sun. The genii of the East have 
 woven this banner from the rays of benignant shirs. It shall 
 beam before thee in the front of battle it shall rise over the 
 rivers of Christian blood. As the moon sways the bosom of the 
 tides, it shall sway and direct the surges and the course of war! " 
 
 " Man of mystery ! thou hast given me a new life." 
 
 " And, fighting by thy side," resumed Almamen, " I will 
 assist to carve out for thee, from the ruins of Arragon and 
 Castile, the grandeur of a new throne. Arm, monarch of 
 Granada! arm! I hear the neigh of thy charger, in the 
 midst of the mailed thousands ! Arm ! "
 
 LEILA 83 
 
 * 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LEILA IN THE CASTLE. THE SIEGE. 
 
 THE calmer contemplations, and more holy anxieties, of 
 Leila were, at length, broken in upon by intelligence, the fear- 
 ful interest of which absorbed the whole mind and care of 
 every inhabitant of the castle. Boabdil el Chico had taken the 
 field, at the head of a numerous army. Rapidly scouring the 
 country, he had descended, one after one, upon the principal 
 fortresses which Ferdinand had left, strongly garrisoned, in 
 the immediate neighborhood. His success was as immediate 
 as it was signal ; the terror of his arms began, once more, to 
 spread far and wide ; every day swelled his ranks with new 
 recruits ; from the snow-clad summits of the Sierra Nevada 
 poured down, in wild hordes, the fierce mountain race, who, 
 accustomed to eternal winter, made a strange contrast, in their 
 rugged appearance and shaggy clothing, to the glittering and 
 civilized soldiery of Granada. 
 
 Moorish towns, which had submitted to Ferdinand, broke 
 from their allegiance, and sent their ardent youth and experi- 
 enced veterans to the standard of the Keys and Crescent. To 
 add to the sudden panic of the Spaniards, it went forth that a 
 formidable magician, who seemed inspired rather with the fury 
 of a demon than the valor of a man, had made an abrupt ap- 
 pearance in the ranks of the Moslems. Wherever the Moors 
 shrunk back from wall or tower, down which poured the boil- 
 ing pitch, or rolled the deadly artillery of the besieged, this 
 sorcerer, rushing into the midst of the flagging force, and wav- 
 ing, with wild gestures, a white banner, supposed, by both 
 Moor and Christian, to be the work of magic and preternatural 
 spells, dared every danger, and escaped every weapon : with 
 voice, with prayer, with example, he fired the Moors to an 
 enthusiasm that revived the first days of Mahometan conquest ; 
 and tower after tower, along the mighty range of the mountain 
 chain of fortresses, was polluted by the wave and glitter of the 
 ever-victorious banner. The veteran, Mendo de Quexada, 
 who, with a garrison of two hundred and fifty men, held the 
 castle of Alhendin, was, however, undaunted by the unprec- 
 edented successes of Boabdil. Aware of the approaching
 
 84 LEILA. 
 
 storm, he spent the days of peace yet accorded to him in mak- 
 ing every preparation for the siege that he foresaw ; messen- 
 gers were dispatched to Ferdinand ; new outworks were added 
 to the castle ; ample store of provisions laid in ; and no pre- 
 caution omitted that could still preserve to the Spaniards a 
 fortress that, from its vicinity to Granada, its command of the 
 Vega and the valleys of the Alpuxarras, was the bitterest thorn 
 in the side of the Moorish power. 
 
 It was early one morning that Leila stood by the lattice of 
 her lofty chamber, gazing with many and mingled emotions, 
 on the distant domes of Granada, as they slept in the silent 
 sunshine. Her heart, for the moment, was busy with the 
 thoughts of home, and the chances and peril of the time were 
 forgotten. 
 
 The sound of martial music, afar off, broke upon her 
 reveries ; she started, and listened breathlessly ; it became 
 more distinct and clear. The clash of the zell, the boom of 
 the African drum, and the wild and barbarous blast of the 
 Moorish clarion, were now each distinguishable from the other ; 
 and, at length, as she gazed and listened, winding along the 
 steeps of the mountain were seen the gleaming spears and 
 pennants of the Moslem vanguard. Another moment, and the 
 whole castle was astir. 
 
 Mendo de Quexada, hastily arming, repaired himself to the 
 battlements ; and, from her lattice, Leila beheld him from time 
 to time, stationing to the best advantage his scanty troops. In 
 a few minutes she was joined by Donna Inez and the women 
 of the castle, who fearfully clustered round their mistress not 
 the less disposed, however, to gratify the passion of the sex, by 
 a glimpse through the lattice at the gorgeous array of the 
 Moorish army. 
 
 The casements of Leila's chamber were peculiarly adapted to 
 command a safe nor insufficient view of the progress of the 
 enemy ! and, with a beating heart and flushing cheek, the 
 Jewish maiden, deaf to the voices around her, imagined she 
 could already descry, amidst the horsemen, the lion port and 
 snowy garments of Muza Ben Abil Gazan. 
 
 What a situation was hers ! Already a Christian, could she 
 hope for the success of the infidel? Ever a woman, could she 
 hope for the defeat of her lover ? But the time for meditation 
 on her destiny was but brief ; the detachment of the Moorish 
 cavalry was now just without the walls of the little town that 
 girded the castle, and the loud clarion of the heralds sum- 
 moned the garrison to surrender,
 
 LEILA. g$ 
 
 u Not while one stone stands upon another ! " was the short 
 answer of Quexada ; and in ten minutes afterwards the sullen 
 roar of the artillery broke from wall and tower over the vales 
 below. 
 
 It was then that the women, from Leila's lattice, beheld, 
 slowly marshalling themselves in order, the whole power and 
 pageantry of the besieging army. Thick serried line after 
 line, column upon column they spread below the frowning 
 steep. The sunbeams lighted up that goodly array, as it swayed 
 and murmured, and advanced like the billows of a glittering 
 sea. The royal standard was soon descried waving above the 
 pavilion of Boabdil ; and the King himself, mounted on his 
 cream-colored charger, which was covered with trappings of 
 cloth of-gold, was recognized amongst the infantry, whose task 
 it was to lead the assault. 
 
 " Pray with us, my daughter ! " cried Inez, falling on her 
 knees. Alas ! what could Leila pray for ? 
 
 Four days and four nights passed away in that memorable 
 siege ; for the moon, then at her full, allowed no respite, even 
 in night itself. Their numbers, and their vicinity to Granada, 
 gave the besiegers the advantage of constant relays, and troop 
 succeeded to troop ; so that the weary had ever successors in 
 the vigor of new assailants. 
 
 On the fifth day all of the fortress, save the keep (an im- 
 mense tower), was in the hands of the Moslems ; and in this 
 last hold, the worn-out and scanty remnant of the garrison 
 mustered in the last hope of a brave despair. 
 
 Quexada appeared, covered with gore and dust his eyes 
 bloodshot, his cheek haggard and hollow, his locks blanched 
 with sudden age in the hall of the tower, where the women, 
 half dead with terror, were assembled. 
 
 " Food ! " cried he "food and wine ! It may be our last 
 banquet." 
 
 His wife threw her arms around him. " Not yet," he cried, 
 " not yet ; we will have one embrace before we part." 
 
 " Is there, then, no hope ?" said Inez, with a pale cheek, yet 
 steady eye. 
 
 " None ; unless to-morrow's dawn gild the spears of Ferdi- 
 nand's army upon yonder hills. Till morn we may hold out." 
 As he spoke, he hastily devoured some morsels of food, 
 drained a huge goblet of wine, and abruptly quitted the 
 chamber. 
 
 At that moment, the women distinctly heard the loud shouts 
 of the Moors ; and Leila, approaching the grated casement,
 
 86 LEILA. 
 
 could perceive the approach of what seemed to her like moving 
 walls. 
 
 Covered by ingenious constructions of wood and thick hides, 
 the besiegers advanced to the foot of the tower in comparative 
 shelter from the burning streams which still poured, fast and 
 seething, from the battlements ; while, in the rear, came 
 showers of darts and cross-bolts from the more distant Moors, 
 protecting the work of the engineer, and piercing through 
 almost every loophole and crevice in the fortress. 
 
 Meanwhile, the stalwart governor beheld, with dismay and 
 despair, the preparations of the engineers, whom the wooden 
 screen-works protected from every weapon. 
 
 " By the holy Sepulchre ! " cried he, gnashing his teeth, " they 
 are mining the tower, and we shall be buried in its ruins ! 
 Look out, Gonsalvo ! See you not a gleam of spears, yonder, 
 over the mountain ? Mine eyes are dim with watching." 
 
 " Alas ! brave Mendo, it is only the sloping sun upon the 
 snows but there is hope yet." 
 
 The soldier's words terminated in a shrill and sudden cry of 
 agony ; and he fell dead by the side of Quexada, the brain 
 crushed by a bolt from a Moorish arquebus. 
 
 " My best warrior ! " said Quexada ; " peace be with him ! 
 Ho, there ! see you yon desperate infidel urging on the miners ? 
 By the heavens above, it is he of the white banner ! it is the 
 sorcerer ! Fire on him ! he is without the shelter of the wood- 
 works." 
 
 Twenty shafts, from wearied and nerveless arms, fell innocu- 
 ous round the form of Almamen : and as, waving aloft his 
 ominous banner, he disappeared again behind the screen- 
 works, the Spaniards almost fancied they could hear his exult- 
 ing and demon laugh. 
 
 The sixth day came, and the work of the enemy was com- 
 pleted. The tower was entirely undermined the foundations 
 rested only upon wooden props, which, with a humanity that was 
 characteristic of Boabdil, had been placed there in order that 
 the besieged might escape ere the final crash of their last hold. 
 
 It was now noon : the whole Moorish force, quitting the 
 plain, occupied the steep that spread below the tower, in multi- 
 tudinous array and breathless expectation. The miners stood 
 aloof the Spaniards lay prostrate and exhausted upon the 
 battlements, like mariners, who, after every effort against the 
 storm, await, resigned, and almost indifferent, the sweep of 
 the fatal urge. 
 
 Suddenly the lines of the Moors gave way, and Boabdil him-
 
 LEILA. 87 
 
 self, with Muza at his right hand, and Almamen on his left, 
 advanced towards the foot of the tower. At the same time, 
 the Ethiopian guards, each bearing a torch, inarched slowly in 
 the rear ; and from the midst of them paced the royal herald, 
 and sounded the last warning. The hush of the immense 
 armament the glare of the torches, lighting the ebon faces 
 and giant forms of their bearers the majestic appearance of 
 the King himself the heroic aspect of Muza the bare head 
 and glittering banner of Almamen all combined with the 
 circumstances of the time to invest the spectacle with some- 
 thing singularly awful, and perhaps sublime. 
 
 Quexada turned his eyes mutely round the ghastly faces of 
 his warriors, and still made not the signal. His lips muttered, 
 his eyes glared : when, suddenly, he heard below the wail of 
 women ; and the thought of Inez, the bride of his youth, the 
 partner of his age, came upon him ; and with a trembling 
 hand he lowered the yet unquailing standard of Spain. Then 
 the silence below broke into a mighty shout, which shook the 
 grim tower to its unsteady and temporary base. 
 
 "Arise, my friends," he said, with a bitter sigh ; "we have 
 fought like men and our country will not blush for us." 
 
 He descended the winding stairs ; his soldiers followed him 
 with faltering steps : the gates of the keep unfolded, and these 
 gallant Christians surrendered themselves to the Moor. 
 
 " Do with us as you will," said Quexada, as he laid the keys 
 at the hoofs of Boabdil's barb ; " but there are women in the 
 garrison, who " 
 
 " Are sacred," interrupted the King. " At once we accord 
 their liberty, and free transport whithersoever ye would 
 desire. Speak then ! To what place of safety shall they be 
 conducted ?" 
 
 " Generous King ! " replied the veteran Quexada, brushing 
 away his tears with the back of his hand ; "you take the sting 
 from our shame. We accept your offer, in the same spirit in 
 which it is made. Across the mountains, on the verge of the 
 plain of Olfadez, I possess a small castle, ungarrisoned and 
 unfortified. Thence, should the war take that direction, the 
 women can readily obtain safe conduct to the Queen, at 
 Cordova." 
 
 " Be it so," returned Boabdil. Then, with Oriental delicacy, 
 selecting the eldest of the officers round him, he gave him 
 instructions to enter the castle, and, with a strong guard, pro- 
 vide for the safety of the women, according to the directions 
 of Quexada. To another of his officers he confided the
 
 88 LEILA. 
 
 Spanish prisoners, and gave the signal to his army to withdraw 
 from the spot, leaving only a small body to complete the ruin 
 of the fortress. 
 
 Accompanied by Almamen and his principal officers, Boab- 
 dil now hastened towards Granada ; and while, with slower 
 progress, Quexada and his companions, under a strong escort, 
 took their way across the Vega, a sudden turn in their course 
 brought abruptly before them the tower they had so valiantly 
 defended. There it still stood, proud and stern, amidst the 
 blackened and broken wrecks around it, shooting aloft, 
 dark and grim, against the sky. Another moment, and a 
 mighty crash sounded on their ears, while the tower fell to the 
 earth, amidst volumes of wreathing smoke and showers of dust, 
 which were borne, by the concussion, to the spot on which 
 they took their last gaze of the proudest fortress on which the 
 Moors of Granada had beheld, from their own walls, the 
 standard of Arragon and Castile. 
 
 At the same time, Leila, thus brought so strangely within the 
 very reach of her father and her lover, and yet, by a mysteri- 
 ous fate, still divided from both with Donna Inez, and the 
 rest of the females of the garrison, pursued her melancholy 
 path along the ridges of the mountains. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ALMAMEN'S PROPOSED ENTERPRISE. THE THREE ISRAELITES. 
 CIRCUMSTANCE IMPRESSES EACH CHARACTER WITH A VARY- 
 ING DIE. 
 
 BOABDIL followed up his late success with a series of bril- 
 liant assaults on the neighboring fortresses. Granada, like a 
 strong man bowed to the ground, wrenched, one after one, the 
 bands that crippled her liberty and strength ; and, at length, 
 after regaining a considerable portion of the surrounding ter- 
 ritory, the King resolved to lay siege to the seaport of Salo- 
 brena. Could he obtain this town, Boabdil, by establishing 
 communication between the sea and Granada, would both be 
 enabled to avail himself of the assistance of his African allies, 
 and also prevent the Spaniards from cutting off supplies to the 
 city, should they again besiege it. Thither, then, accompanied 
 by Muza, the Moorish King bore his victorious standard. 
 
 On the eve of his departure, Almamen sought the King's 
 presence. A great change had come over the santon since 
 the departure of Ferdinand : his wonted stateliness of mien
 
 LEILA. 89 
 
 was gone ; his eyes were sunk and hollow ; his manner 
 disturbed and absent. In fact his love for his daughter 
 made the sole softness of his character ; and that daughter 
 was in the hands of the King who had sentenced the father to 
 the tortures of the Inquisition ! To what dangers might she 
 not be subjected by the intolerant zeal of conversion! And 
 could that frame, and gentle heart, brave the terrific engines 
 that might be brought against her fears? " Better," thought 
 he, " that she should perish, even by the torture, than adopt 
 that hated faith." He gnashed his teeth in agony at either 
 alternative. His dreams, his objects, his revenge, his ambition 
 all forsook him : one single hope, one thought, completely 
 mastered his stormy passions and fitful intellect. 
 
 In this mood the pretended santon met Boabdil. He repre- 
 sented to the King, over whom his influence had prodigiously 
 increased since the late victories of the Moors, the necessity of 
 employing the armies of Ferdinand at a distance. He pro- 
 posed, in furtherance of this policy, to venture himself in Cor- 
 dova ; to endeavor secretly to stir up those Moors in that, their 
 ancient kingdom, who had succumbed to the Spanish yoke, 
 and whose hopes might naturally be inflamed by the recent 
 successes of Boabdil; and, at least, to foment such disturb- 
 ances as might afford the King sufficient time to complete his 
 designs, and recruit his force by aid of the powers with which 
 he was in league. 
 
 The representations of Almamen at length conquered Boab- 
 dil's reluctance to part with his sacred guide ; and it was finally 
 arranged that the Israelite should at once depart from the 
 city. 
 
 As Almamen pursued homeward his solitary way, he found 
 himself suddenly accosted in the Hebrew tongue. He turned 
 hastily, and saw before him an old man in the Jewish gown ; 
 he recognized Elias, one of the wealthiest and most eminent of 
 the race of Israel. 
 
 " Pardon me, wise countryman ! " said the Jew, bowing to 
 the earth, "but I cannot resist the temptation of claiming 
 kindred with one, through whom the horn of Israel may be so 
 triumphantly exalted." 
 
 " Hush, man ! " said Almamen quickly, and looking sharply 
 round ; " I thy countryman ! Art thou not, as thy speech 
 betokens, an Israelite ? " 
 
 "Yea," returned the Jew, "and of the same tribe as thy hon- 
 ored father peace be with his ashes ! I remembered thee at 
 once, boy though thou wert when thy steps shook off the dust
 
 90 LEILA 
 
 against Granada. I remembered thee, I say, at once, on thy 
 return ; but I have kept thy secret, trusting that, through thy 
 soul and genius, thy fallen brethren might put off sackcloth and 
 feast upon the housetops." 
 
 Almamen looked hard at the keen, sharp, Arab features of 
 the Jew ; and, at length, he answered : " And how can Israel 
 ^>e restored ? Wilt thou fight for her ? " 
 
 " I am too old, son of Issachar, to bear arms ; but our tribes 
 are many, and our youth strong. Amid these disturbances be- 
 tween dog and dog " 
 
 "The lion may get his own," interrupted Almamen impet- 
 uously, " let us hope it. Hast thou heard of the new perse- 
 cutions against us, that the false Nazarene King has already 
 commenced in Cordova persecutions that make the heart sick 
 and the blood cold?" 
 
 "Alas ! " replied Elias, "such woes, indeed, have not failed 
 to reach mine ear ; and I have kindred, near and beloved kin- 
 dred, wealthy and honored men, scattered throughout that 
 land." 
 
 " Were it not better that they should die on the field than by 
 the rack ? " exclaimed Almamen fiercely. " God of my fathers ! 
 if there be yet a spark of manhood left amongst Thy people, let 
 Thy servant fan it to a flame, that shall burn as the fire burns 
 the stubble, so that the earth may bare before the blaze ! " 
 
 " Nay," said Elias, dismayed rather than excited by the 
 vehemence of his comrade, "be not rash, son of Issachar, be 
 not rash : peradventure thou wilt but exasperate the wrath of 
 the rulers, and our substance thereby will be utterly con- 
 sumed." 
 
 Almamen drew back, placed his hand quietly on the Jew's 
 shoulder, looked him hard in the face, and, gently laughing, 
 turned away. 
 
 Elias did not attempt to arrest his steps. " Impracticable," 
 he muttered "impracticable and dangerous ! I always thought 
 so. He may do us harm : were he not so strong and fierce, I 
 would put my knife under his left rib. Verily, gold is a great 
 thing ; and out on me ! the knaves at home will be wasting 
 the oil, now they know old Elias is abroad." Thereat the Jew 
 drew his cloak round him, and quickened his pace. 
 
 Almamen, in the mean while, sought, through dark and sub- 
 terranean passages, known only to himself, his accustomed 
 home. He passed much of the night alone ; but ere the morn- 
 ing star announced to the mountain tops the presence of the 
 sun, he stood, prepared for his journey, in his secret vault, by
 
 LEILA. 91 
 
 the door of the subterranean passages, with old Ximen beside 
 him. 
 
 " I go, Ximen," said Almamen, " upon a doubtful quest : 
 whether I discover my daughter, and succeed in bearing her 
 in safety from their contaminating grasp, or whether I fall into 
 their snares and perish, there is an equal chance that I may re- 
 turn no more to Granada. Should this be so, you will be heir 
 to such wealth as I leave in these places ; I know that your age 
 will be consoled for the lack of children, when your eyes look 
 upon the laugh of gold." 
 
 Ximen bowed low, and mumbled out some inaudible protes- 
 tations and thanks. Almamen sighed heavily as he looked 
 round the room. " I have evil omens in my soul, and evil 
 prophecies in my books," said he mournfully. " But the worst 
 is here," he added, putting his finger significantly to his tem- 
 ples ; " the string is stretched one more blow would snap it." 
 
 As he thus said, he opened the door, and vanished through 
 that labyrinth of galleries, by which he was enabled at all 
 times to reach unobserved either the palace of the Alhambra, or 
 the gardens without the gates of the city. Ximen remained be- 
 hind a few moments, in deep thought. " All mine if he dies ! " 
 said he : " all mine if he does not return ! All mine, all mine ! 
 and I have not a child nor a kinsman in the world to clutch it 
 away from me ! " With that he locked the vault, and returned 
 to the upper air. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FUGITIVE AND THE MEETING. 
 
 IN their different directions the rival kings were equally suc- 
 cessful. Salobrena, but lately conquered by the Christians, 
 was thrown into a commotion by the first glimpse of Boabdil's 
 banners ; the populace rose, beat back their Christian guards, 
 and opened the gates to the last of their race of kings. The 
 garrison alone, to which the Spaniards retreated, resisted Boab- 
 dil's arms ; and, defended by impregnable walls, promised an 
 obstinate and bloody siege. 
 
 Meanwhile Ferdinand had no sooner entered Cordova than 
 his extensive scheme of confiscation and holy persecution com- 
 menced. Not only did more than five hundred Jews perish in 
 the dark and secret gripe of the Grand Inquisitor, but several 
 hundred of the wealthiest Christian families, in whose blood 
 was detected the hereditary Jewish taint, were thrown into 
 prison ; and such as were most fortunate purchased life by the
 
 92 LEILA 
 
 sacrifice of half their treasures. At this time, however, there 
 suddenly broke forth a formidable insurrection amongst these 
 miserable subjects the Messenians of the Iberian Sparta. The 
 Jews were so far aroused from their long debasement by om- 
 nipotent despair, that a single spark, falling on the ashes of 
 their ancient spirit, rekindled the flame of the descendants of 
 the fierce warriors of Palestine. They were encouraged and 
 assisted by the suspected Christians, who had been involved in 
 the same persecution ; and the whole were headed by a man 
 who appeared suddenly amongst them, and whose fiery elo- 
 quence and martial spirit produced, at such a season, the most 
 fervent enthusiasm. Unhappily, the whole details of this sin- 
 gular outbreak are withheld from us ; only by wary hints and 
 guarded allusions do the Spanish chroniclers apprise us of its 
 existence and its perils. It is clear that all narrative of an 
 event, that might afford the most dangerous precedents, and 
 was alarming to the pride and avarice of the Spanish King, as 
 well as the pious zeal of the Church, was strictly forbidden ; 
 and the conspiracy was hushed in the dread silence of the 
 Inquisition, into whose hands the principal conspirators ulti- 
 mately fell. We learn, only, that a determined and sanguinary 
 struggle was followed by the triumph of Ferdinand, and the 
 complete extinction of the treason. 
 
 It was one evening that a solitary fugitive, hard chased by 
 an armed troop of the brothers of St. Hermandad, was seen 
 emerging from a wild and rocky defile, which opened abruptly 
 on the gardens of a small and, by the absence of fortification 
 and sentries, seemingly deserted, castle. Behind him in the 
 exceeding stillness which characterizes the air of a Spanish 
 twilight, he heard, at a considerable distance, the blast of the 
 horn and the tramp of hoofs. His pursuers, divided into sev- 
 eral detachments, were scouring the country after him, as the 
 fishermen draw their nets, from bank to bank, conscious that 
 the prey they drive before the meshes cannot escape them at 
 the last. The fugitive halted in doubt, and gazed round him : 
 he was well-nigh exhausted ; his eyes were bloodshot ; the 
 large drops rolled fast down his brow ; his whole frame quiv- 
 ered and palpitated, like that of a stag when he stands at bay. 
 Beyond the castle spread a broad plain, far as the eye could 
 reach, without shrub or hollow to conceal his form : flight 
 across a space so favorable to his pursuers was evidently in 
 vain. No alternative was left, unless he turned back on the 
 very path taken by the horsemen, or trusted to such scanty and 
 perilous shelter as the copses in the castle garden might afford
 
 LEILA. $3 
 
 him. He decided on the latter refuge, cleared the low and 
 lonely wall that girded the demesne, and plunged into a thicket 
 of overhanging oaks and chestnuts. 
 
 At that hour, and in that garden, by the side of a little foun- 
 tain, were seated two females : the one of mature and some- 
 what advanced years ; the other, in the flower of virgin youth. 
 But the flower was prematurely faded ; and neither the bloom, 
 nor sparkle, nor undulating play of feature, that should have 
 suited her age, was visible in the marble paleness and contem- 
 plative sadness of her beautiful countenance. 
 
 "Alas ! my young friend," said the elder of these ladies, "it 
 is in these hours of solitude and calm that we are most deeply 
 impressed with the nothingness of life. Thou, my sweet con- 
 vert, art now the object, no longer of my compassion, but my 
 envy ; and earnestly do I feel convinced of the blessed repose 
 thy spirit will enjoy in the lap of the Mother Church. Happy 
 are they who die young ; but thrice happy they who die in the 
 spirit rather than the flesh : dead to sin, but not to virtue ; to 
 terror, not to hope ; to man, but not to God ! " 
 
 " Dear senora," replied the young maiden mournfully, " were 
 I alone on earth, Heaven is my witness with what deep and 
 thankful resignation I should take the holy vows, and forswear 
 the past : but the heart remains human, however divine the 
 hope that it may cherish. And sometimes I start, and think of 
 home, of childhood, of my strange but beloved father, deserted 
 and childless in his old age." 
 
 "Thine, Leila," returned the elder senora, "are but the sor- 
 rows our nature is doomed to. What matter, whether absence 
 or death sever the affections ? Thou lamentest a father ; I, a 
 son, dead in the pride of his youth and beauty a husband, 
 languishing in the fetters of the Moor. Take comfort for 
 thy sorrows, in the reflection that sorrow is the heritage of 
 all." 
 
 Ere Leila could reply, the orange-boughs that sheltered the 
 spot where they sat were put aside, and between the women 
 and the fountain stood the dark form of Almamen, the Israelite. 
 Leila rose, shrieked, and flung herself, unconscious, on his 
 breast. 
 
 " O Lord of Israel ! " cried Almamen, in a tone of deep 
 anguish, " do I, then, at last regain my child ? Do I press her 
 to my heart ? And is it only for that brief moment when I 
 stand upon the brink of death ? Leila, my child, look up ! 
 smile upon thy father : let him feel, on his maddening and 
 burning brow, the sweet breath of the last of his race, and
 
 $4 LEILA. 
 
 bear with him, at least, one holy and gentle thought to the 
 dark grave." 
 
 " My father ! is it indeed my father ?" said Leila, recover- 
 ing herself, and drawing back, that she might assure herself of 
 that familiar face ; " It is thou ! it is it is ! Oh ! what blessed 
 chance brings us together ? " 
 
 "That chance is the destiny that hurries me to my tomb," 
 answered Almamen solemnly. " Hark ! hear you not the 
 sound of their rushing steeds their impatient voices ? They 
 are on me now ! " 
 
 '* Who ? Of whom speakest thou ? " 
 
 " My pursuers the horsemen of the Spaniard." 
 
 " Oh, senora, save him ! " cried Leila, turning to Donna Inez, 
 whom both father and child had hitherto forgotten, and who 
 now stood gazing upon Almamen with wondering and anxious 
 eyes. " Whither can he fly ? The vaults of the castle may 
 conceal him. This way hasten ! " 
 
 " Stay," said Inez, trembling, and approaching close to 
 Almamen : " do I see aright ? and, amidst the dark change of 
 years and trial, do I recognize that stately form, which once 
 contrasted to the sad eye of a mother the drooping and faded 
 form of her only son ? Art thou not he who saved my boy 
 from the pestilence, who accompanied him to the shores of 
 Naples, and consigned him to those arms ? Look on me ! dost 
 thou not recall the mother of thy friend ? " 
 
 " I recall thy features dimly and as in a dream," answered 
 the Hebrew ; " and while thou speakest, there rush upon me 
 the memories of an earlier time, in lands where Leila first 
 looked upon the day, and her mother sung to me at sunset, by 
 the stream of the Euphrates, and on the sites of departed 
 empires. Thy son I remember now : I had friendship then 
 with a Christian for I was still young." 
 
 " Waste not the time father senora ! " cried Leila im- 
 patiently, clinging still to her father's breast. 
 
 " You are right ; nor shall your sire, in whom I thus wonder- 
 fully recognize my son's friend, perish if I can save him." 
 
 Inez then conducted her strange guest to a small door in 
 the rear of the castle ; and after leading him through some of 
 the principal apartments, left him in one of the tiring-rooms, 
 adjoining her own chamber, and the entrance to which the 
 arras concealed. She rightly judged this a safer retreat than 
 the vaults of the castle might afford, since her great name and 
 known intimacy with Isabel would preclude all suspicion of 
 her abetting in the escape of the fugitive, and keep those
 
 LEtLA 95 
 
 places the most secure in which, without such aid, he could 
 not have secreted himself. 
 
 In a few minutes several of the troop arrived at the castle, 
 and on learning the name of its owner, contented themselves 
 with searching the gardens, and the lower and more exposed 
 apartments; and then, recommending to the servants a vigilant 
 look-out, remounted, and proceeded to scour the plain, over 
 which now slowly fell the starlight and shade of night. 
 
 When Leila stole, at last, to the room in which Almamen 
 was hid, she found him, stretched on his mantle, in a deep 
 sleep. Exhausted by all he had undergone, and his rigid 
 nerves, as it were, relaxed by the sudden softness of that inter- 
 view with his child, the slumber of that fiery wanderer was as 
 calm as an infant's. And their relation almost seemed reversed, 
 and the daughter to be as a mother watching over her offspring, 
 when Leila seated herself softly by him, fixing her eyes to 
 which the tears came ever, ever to brushed away upon his 
 worn but tranquil features, made yet more serene by the quiet 
 light that glimmered through the casement. And so passed 
 the hours of that night ; and the father and the child the 
 meek convert, the revengeful fanatic were under the same 
 roof. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ALMAMEN HEARS AND SEES, BUT REFUSES TO BELIEVE ; FOR 
 THE BRAIN, OVERWROUGHT, GROWS DULL, EVEN IN THE 
 KEENEST. 
 
 THE dawn broke slowly upon the chamber, and Almamen 
 still slept. It was the Sabbath of the Christians that day on 
 which the Saviour rose from the dead ; thence named, so 
 emphatically and sublimely, by the early Church, THE LORD'S 
 DAY.* And as the ray of the sun flashed in the east, it fell, 
 like a glory, over a crucifix, placed in the deep recess of the 
 Gothic casement ; and brought startingly before the eyes of 
 Leila that face upon which the rudest of the Catholic sculptors 
 rarely fail to preserve the mystic and awful union of the expir- 
 ing anguish of the man with the lofty patience of the God. It 
 looked upon her, that face ; it invited, it encouraged, while it 
 thrilled and subdued. She stole gently from the side of her 
 father ; she crept to the spot, and flung herself on her knees 
 beside the consecrated image. 
 
 * Before the Christian era, the Sunday was, however, called the Lord's day <*./., the 
 day of the Lord the Sun.
 
 g6 LfciLA. 
 
 "Support me, O Redeemer!" she murmured "support 
 thy creature ! strengthen her steps in the blessed path, though it 
 divide her irrevocably from all that on earth she loves : and 
 if there be a sacrifice in her solemn choice, accept, O Thou, 
 the Crucified ! accept it, in part atonement of the crime of 
 her stubborn race ; and, hereafter, let the lips of a maiden of 
 Judaea implore thee, not in vain, for some mitigation of the 
 awful curse that hath fallen justly upon her tribe." 
 
 As broken by low sobs, and in a choked and muttered voice, 
 Leila poured forth her prayer, she was startled by a deep 
 groan; and turning, in alarm, she saw that Almamen had 
 awaked, and, leaning on his arm, was now bending upon her 
 his dark eyes, once more gleaming with all their wonted fire. 
 
 " Speak," he said, as she coweringly hid her face " speak 
 to me, or I shall be turned to stone by one horrid thought. It 
 is not before that symbol that thou kneelest in adoration ; and 
 my sense wanders, if it tell me that thy broken words expressed 
 the worship of an apostate ! In mercy, speak ? " 
 
 "Father ! " began Leila ; but her lips refused to utter more 
 than that touching and holy word. 
 
 Almamen rose ; and plucking the hands from her face, gazed 
 on her some moments, as if he would penetrate her very 
 soul ; and Leila, recovering her courage in the pause, by 
 degrees, met his eyesunquailing her pure and ingenuous brow 
 raised to his, and sadness, but not guilt, speaking from every 
 line of that lovely face. 
 
 " Thou dost not tremble," said Almamen, at length, breaking 
 the silence, " and I have erred. Thou art not the criminal I 
 deemed thee. Come to my arms ! " 
 
 " Alas ! " said Leila, obeying the instinct, and casting herself 
 upon that rugged bosom, " I will dare, at least, not to disavow 
 my God. Father ! by that dread anathema which is on our 
 race, which has made us homeless and powerless outcasts and 
 strangers in the land ; by the persecution and anguish we have 
 known, teach thy lordly heart that we are rightly punished for 
 the persecution and the anguish we doomed to Him, whose 
 footstep hallowed our native earth ! FIRST IN THE HISTORY 
 
 OF THE WORLD DID THE STERN HEBREWS INFLICT UPON MAN- 
 KIND THE AWFUL CRIME OF PERSECUTION FOR OPINION'S 
 
 SAKE. The seed we sowed hath brought forth the Dead Sea 
 fruit upon which we feed. I asked for resignation and for hope : 
 I looked upon yonder cross, and I found both. Harden not 
 thy heart ; listen to thy child ; wise though thou be, and weak 
 though her woman spirit, listen to me."
 
 LEILA 97 
 
 " Be dumb ! " cried Almamen, in such a voice as might have 
 come from the charnel, so ghostly and deathly sounded its hol- 
 low tone ; then, recoiling some steps, he placed both his hands 
 upon his temples, and muttered, " Mad, mad ! yes, yes, this is 
 but a delirium, and I am tempted with a devil ! Oh, my 
 child ! " he resumed, in a voice that became, on the sudden, 
 inexpressibly tender and imploring, " I have been sorely tried ; 
 and I dreamt a feverish dream of passion and revenge. Be 
 thine the lips, and thine the soothing hand, that shall wake me 
 from it. Let us fly forever from these hated lands ; let us leave 
 to these miserable infidels their bloody contest, careless which 
 shall fall, to a soil on which the iron heel does not clang, to an 
 air where man's orisons rise, in solitude, to the Great Jehovah, 
 let us hasten our wearied steps. Come ! while the castle yet 
 sleeps, let us forth unseen the father and the child. We will 
 hold sweet commune by the way. And hark ye, Leila," he 
 added, in a low and abrupt whisper, " talk not to me of yonder 
 symbol ; for thy God is a jealous God, and hath no likeness in 
 the graven image." 
 
 Had he been less exhausted by long travail and racking 
 thoughts, far different, perhaps, would have been the language 
 of a man so stern. But circumstance impresses the hardest 
 substance ; and despite his native intellect and affected superi- 
 ority over others, no one, perhaps, was more human, in his fit- 
 ful moods his weakness and his strength, his passion and his 
 purpose than that strange man, who had dared, in his dark 
 studies and arrogant self-will, to aspire beyond humanity. 
 
 That was, indeed, a perilous moment for the young convert. 
 The unexpected softness of her father utterly subdued her ; 
 nor was she sufficiently possessed of that all-denying zeal of the 
 Catholic enthusiast to which every human tie, and earthly duty, 
 has been often sacrificed on the shrine of a rapt and meta- 
 physical piety. Whatever her opinions, her new creed, her 
 secret desire of the cloister, fed as it was by the sublime, though 
 fallacious notion, that in her conversion, her sacrifice, the 
 crimes of her race might be expiated in the eyes of Him whose 
 death had been the great atonement of a world ; whatever such 
 higher thoughts and sentiments, they gave way, at that moment,, 
 to the irresistible impulse of household nature and of filial duty. 
 Should she desert her father, and could that desertion be a 
 virtue ? Her heart put and answered both questions in a 
 breath. She approached Almamen, placed her hand in his, and 
 said, steadily and calmly : " Father, wheresoever thou goest, I 
 will wend with thee."
 
 9 LEILA. 
 
 But Heaven ordained to each another destiny than might 
 have been theirs, had the dictates of that impulse been fulfilled. 
 
 Ere Almamen could reply, a trumpet sounded clear and loud 
 at the gate. 
 
 " Hark ! " he said, griping his dagger, and starting back to a 
 sense of the dangers round him. " They come my pursuers 
 and my murtherers ! but these limbs are sacred from the rack." 
 
 Even that sound of ominous danger was almost a relief to 
 Leila: "I will go," she said, "and learn what the blast 
 betokens ; remain here be cautious I will return." 
 
 Several minutes, however, elapsed, before Leila reappeared ; 
 she was accompanied by Donna Inez, whose paleness and 
 agitation betokened her alarm. A courier had arrived at the 
 gate to announce the approach of the Queen, who, with a con- 
 siderable force, was on her way to join Ferdinand, then, in the 
 usual rapidity of his movements, before one of the Moorish 
 towns that had revolted from his allegiance. It was impossible 
 for Almamen to remain in safety in the castle ; and the only 
 hope of escape was departing immediately and in disguise. 
 
 " I have," she said, " a trusty and faithful servant with me 
 in the castle, to whom I can, without anxiety, confide the charge 
 of your safety ; and even if suspected by the way, my name, 
 and the companionship of my servant, will remove all obstacles ; 
 it is not a long journey hence to Guadix, which has already 
 revolted to the Moors : there, till the armies of Ferdinand 
 surround the walls, your refuge may be secure." 
 
 Almamen remained for some moments plunged in a gloomy 
 silence. But at length he signified his assent to the plan pro- 
 posed, and Donna Inez hastened to give the directions to his 
 intended guide. 
 
 " Leila," said the Hebrew, when left alone with his daughter, 
 " think not that it is for mine own safety that I stoop to this 
 flight from thee. No : but never till thou wert lost to me, by 
 mine own rash confidence in another, did I know how dear to 
 my heart was the last scion of my race, the sole memorial left 
 to me of thy mother's love. Regaining thee once more, a new 
 and a soft existence opens upon my eyes ; and the earth seems 
 to change, as by a sudden revolution, from winter into spring. 
 For thy sake I consent to use all the means that man's intellect 
 can devise, for preservation from my foes. Meanwhile, here 
 will rest my soul ; to this spot, within one week from this 
 period no matter through what danger I pass I shall return : 
 then I shall claim thy promise. I will arrange all things for 
 our flight, and no stone shall harm thy footstep by the
 
 LEILA. gg 
 
 way. The Lord of Israel be with thee, my daughter, and 
 strengthen thy heart ! But," he added, tearing himself from 
 her embrace, as he heard steps ascending to the chamber, 
 " deem not that, in this most fond and fatherly affection, I 
 forget what is due to me and thee. Think not that my love is 
 only the brute and insensate feeling of the progenitor to the 
 offspring : I love thee for thy mother's sake I love thee for 
 thine own I love thee yet more for the sake of Israel. If thou 
 perish, if thou art lost to us, thou, the last daughter of the 
 house of Issachar, then the haughtiest family of God's great 
 people is extinct." 
 
 Here Inez appeared at the door, but withdrew, at the 
 impatient and lordly gesture of Almamen, who, without further 
 heed of the interruption, resumed : 
 
 " I look to thee, and thy seed, for the regeneration which I 
 once trusted, fool that I was, mine own day might see effected. 
 Let this pass. Thou art under the roof of the Nazarene. I 
 will not believe that the arts we have resisted against fire and 
 sword can prevail with thee. But, if I err, awful will be the 
 penalty ! Could I once know that thou hadst forsaken thy 
 ancestral creed, though warrior and priest stood by thee, 
 though thousands and ten thousands were by thy right hand, 
 this steel should save the race of Issachar from dishonor. 
 Beware ! Thou weepest ; but, child, I warn, not threaten. 
 God be with thee ! " 
 
 He wrung the cold hand of his child, turned to the door, and, 
 after such disguise as the brief time allowed him could afford, 
 quitted the castle with his Spanish guide, who, accustomed to 
 the benevolence of his mistress, obeyed her injunction without 
 wonder, though not without suspicion. 
 
 The third part of an hour had scarcely elapsed, and the sun 
 was yet on the mountain-tops, when Isabel arrived. 
 
 She came to announce that the outbreaks of the Moorish 
 towns in the vicinity rendered the half-fortified castle of her 
 friend no longer a secure abode ; and she honored the Spanish 
 lady with a command to accompany her, with her female suite, 
 to the camp of Ferdinand. 
 
 Leila received the intelligence with a kind of stupor. Her 
 interview with her father, the strong and fearful contests of 
 emotion which that interview occasioned, left her senses faint 
 and dizzy ; and when she found herself, by the twilight star, 
 once more with the train of Isabel, the only feeling that stirred 
 actively through her stunned and bewildered mind was, that 
 the hand of Providence conducted her from a temptation that,
 
 loo LEILA. 
 
 the Reader of all hearts knew, the daughter and woman would 
 have been too feeble to resist. 
 
 On the fifth day from his departure, Almamen returned to 
 find the castle deserted, and his daughter gone. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN THE FERMENT OF GREAT EVENTS THE DREGS RISE. 
 
 THE Israelites did not limit their struggles to the dark con- 
 spiracy to which allusion has been made. In some of the 
 Moorish towns that revolted from Ferdinand, they renounced 
 the neutrality they had hitherto maintained between Christian 
 and Moslem. Whether it was that they were inflamed by the 
 fearful and wholesale barbarities enforced by Ferdinand and 
 the Inquisition against their tribe ; or whether they were 
 stirred up by one of their own order, in whom was recognized 
 the head of their most sacred family ; or whether, as is most 
 probable, both causes combined certain it is, that they mani- 
 fested a feeling that was thoroughly unknown to the ordinary 
 habits and policy of that peaceable people. They bore great 
 treasure to the public stock ; they demanded arms, and, under 
 their own leaders, were admitted, though with much jealousy 
 and precaution, into the troops of the arrogant and disdainful 
 Moslems. 
 
 In this conjunction of hostile planets, Ferdinand had 
 recourse to his favorite policy of wile and stratagem. Turn- 
 ing against the Jews the very treaty Almamen had once sought 
 to obtain in their favor, he caused it to be circulated, privately, 
 that the Jews, anxious to purchase their peace with him, had 
 promised to betray the Moorish towns, and Granada itself, into 
 his hands. The paper which Ferdinand himself had signed in 
 his interview with Almamen, and of which, on the capture of 
 the Hebrew, he had taken care to repossess himself, he gave 
 to a spy, whom he sent, disguised as a Jew, into one of the re- 
 volted cities. 
 
 Private intelligence reached the Moorish ringleader of the 
 arrival of this envoy. He was seized, and the document found 
 on his person. The form of the words drawn up by Almamen 
 (who had carefully omitted mention of his own name whether 
 that which he assumed, or that which, by birth, he should have 
 borne), merely conveyed the compact, that if by a Jew, within 
 two weeks from the date therein specified, Granada was de-
 
 LEILA. 101 
 
 livered to the Christian King, the Jews should enjoy certain 
 immunities and rights. 
 
 The discovery of this document filled the Moors of the city 
 to which the spy had been sent with a fury that no words can 
 describe. Always distrusting their allies, they now imagined 
 they perceived the sole reason of their sudden enthusiasm, of 
 their demand for arms. The mob rose : the principal Jews 
 were seized and massacred without trial ; some by the wrath 
 of the multitude, some by the slower tortures of the magistrate. 
 Messengers were sent to the different revolted towns, and, 
 above all, to Granada itself, to put the Moslems on their guard 
 against these unhappy enemies of either party. At once covet- 
 ous and ferocious, the Moors rivalled the Inquisition in their 
 cruelty, and Ferdinand in their extortion. 
 
 It was the dark fate of Almamen, as of most premature and 
 heated liberators of the enslaved, to double the terrors and the 
 evils he had sought to cure. The warning arrived at Granada 
 at a time in which the Vizier, Jusef, had received the com- 
 mands of his royal master, still at the siege of Salobrena, to 
 use every exertion to fill the wasting treasuries. Fearful of 
 new exactions against the Moors, the Vizier hailed, as a mes- 
 sage from Heaven, so just a pretext for a new and sweeping 
 impost on the Jews. The spendthrift violence of the mob was 
 restrained, because it was headed by the authorities, who were 
 wisely anxious that the state should have no rival in the plun- 
 der it required ; and the work of confiscation and robbery was 
 carried on with a majestic and calm regularity, which redounded 
 no less to the credit of Jusef than it contributed to the coffers 
 of the King. 
 
 It was late, one evening when Ximen was making his usual 
 round through the chambers of Almamen's house. As he 
 glanced around at the various articles of wealth and luxury, 
 he, ever and anon, burst into a low, fitful chuckle, rubbed his 
 lean hands, and mumbled out : " If my master should die ! If 
 my master should die ! " 
 
 While thus engaged, he heard a confused and distant shout; 
 and, listening attentively, he distinguished a cry, grown of late 
 sufficiently familiar, of "Live, Jusef the just perish the traitor 
 Jews ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " said Ximen, as the whole character of his face 
 changed : "some new robbery upon our race ! And this is thy 
 work, son of Issachar ! Madman that thou wert, to be wiser 
 than thy sires, and seek to dupe the idolaters in the council- 
 chamber and the camp their field, their vantage-ground ; as
 
 102 LEILA. 
 
 the bazaar and the market-place are ours. None suspect Obat 
 the potent santon is the traitor Jew ; but I know it ! I could 
 give thee to the bowstring and, if thou wert dead, all thy 
 goods and gold, even to the mule at the manger, would be old 
 Ximen's." 
 
 He paused at that thought, shut his eyes, and smiled at the 
 prospect his fancy conjured up ; and completing his survey, 
 retired to his own chamber, which opened, by a small door, 
 upon one of the back courts. He had scarcely reached 
 the room, when he heard a low tap at the outer door ; and 
 when it was thrice repeated, he knew that it was one of his 
 Jewish brethren. For Ximen as years, isolation, and avarice 
 gnawed away whatever of virtue once put forth some meagre 
 fruit from a heart naturally bare and rocky still preserved 
 one human feeling towards his countrymen. It was the bond 
 which unites all the persecuted : and Ximen loved them be- 
 cause he could not envy their happiness. The power, the 
 knowledge, the lofty though wild designs of his master, stung 
 and humbled him : he secretly hated, because he could not 
 compassionate or contemn him. But the bowed frame, and 
 slavish voice, and timid nerves of his crushed brotherhood 
 presented to the old man the likeness of things that could not 
 exult over him. Debased, and aged, and solitary as he was, he 
 felt a kind of wintry warmth in the thought that even he had 
 the power to protect ! 
 
 He thus maintained an intercourse with his fellow-Israelites ; 
 and often, in their dangers, had afforded them a refuge in the 
 numerous vaults and passages, the ruins of which may still be 
 descried beneath the mouldering foundations of that mysterious 
 mansion. And as the house was generally supposed the prop- 
 erty of an absent emir, and had been especially recommended 
 to the care of the cadis by Boabdil, who alone of the Moors 
 knew it as one of the dwelling-places of the santon, whose os- 
 tensible residence was in apartments allotted to him within the 
 palace, it was, perhaps, the sole place within Granada which 
 afforded an unsuspected and secure refuge to the hunted 
 Israelites. 
 
 When Ximen recognized the wonted signal of his brethren, 
 he crawled to the door ; and, after the precaution of a Hebrew 
 watchword, replied to in the same tongue, he gave admittance 
 to the tall and stooping frame of the rich Elias. 
 
 " Worthy and excellent master ! " said Ximen, after again 
 securing the entrance ; " what can bring the honored and 
 wealthy Elias to the chamber of the poor hireling ? "
 
 LEILA. 103 
 
 " My friend," answered the Jew ; " call me not wealthy, nor 
 honored. For years I have dwelt within the city, safe and 
 respected, even by the Moslemin ; verily and because I have 
 purchased, with jewels and treasure, the protection of the King 
 and the great men. But now, alas ! in the sudden wrath of 
 the heathen ever imagining vain things I have been sum- 
 moned into the presence of their chief rabbi, and only escaped 
 the torture by a sum that ten years of labor and the sweat of 
 my brow cannot replace. Ximen, the bitterest thought of all 
 is, that the frenzy of one of our own tribe has brought this 
 desolation upon Israel." 
 
 " My lord speaks riddles," said Ximen, with well-feigned 
 astonishment in his glassy eyes. 
 
 " Why dost thou wind and turn, good Ximen ? " said the 
 Jew, shaking his head; "thou knowest well what my words 
 drive at. Thy master is the pretended Almamen ; and that 
 recreant Israelite (if Israelite, indeed, still be one who hath for- 
 saken the customs and the forms of his forefathers) is he who 
 has stirred up the Jews of Cordova and Guadix, and whose 
 folly hath brought upon us these dread things. Holy Abraham ! 
 this Jew hath cost me more than fifty Nazarenes and a hun- 
 dred Moors." 
 
 Ximen remained silent ; and the tongue of Elias being loosed 
 by the recollection of his sad loss, the latter continued ' " At 
 the first, when the son of Issachar reappeared, and became a 
 counsellor in the King's court, I indeed, who had led him, then 
 a child, to the synagogue for old Issachar was to me dear as 
 a brother recognized him by his eyes and voice ; but I exulted 
 in his craft and concealment ; I believed he would work 
 mighty things for his poor brethren, and would obtain, for his 
 father's friend, the supplying of the King's wives and concu- 
 bines with raiment and cloth of price. But years have passed : 
 he hath not lightened our burthens ; and, by the madness that 
 hath of late come over him, heading the heathen armies, and 
 drawing our brethren into danger and death, he hath deserved 
 the curse of the synagogue, and the wrath of our whole race. 
 I find, from our brethren who escaped the Inquisition by the 
 surrender of their substance, that his unskilful, frantic schemes 
 were the main pretext for the sufferings of the righteous under 
 the Nazarene ; and, again, the same schemes bring on us the 
 same oppression from the Moor. Accursed be he, and may his 
 name perish ! " 
 
 Ximen sighed, but remained silent, conjecturing to what end 
 the Jew would bring his invectives. He was not long in sus-
 
 104 LEILA. 
 
 pense. After a pause, Elias recommenced, in an altered and 
 more careless tone : " He is rich, this son of Issachar won- 
 drous rich." 
 
 " He has treasures scattered over half the cities of Africa 
 and the Orient," said Ximen. 
 
 "Thou seest, then, my friend, that thy master hath doomed 
 me to a heavy loss. I possess his secret ; I could give him up 
 to the King's wrath ; I could bring him to the death. But I 
 am just and meek : let him pay my forfeiture, and I will forego 
 mine anger." 
 
 " Thou dost not know him," said Ximen, alarmed at the 
 thought of a repayment which might grievously diminish his 
 own heritage of Almamen's effects in Granada. 
 
 "But if I threaten him with exposure ?" 
 
 " Thou wouldst feed the fishes of the Darro," interrupted 
 Ximen. " Nay, even now, if Almamen learn that thou knowest 
 his birth and race, tremble ! for thy days in the land will be 
 numbered." 
 
 "Verily," exclaimed the Jew in great alarm, "then have I 
 fallen into the snare ; for these lips revealed to him that 
 knowledge." 
 
 " Then is the righteous Elias a lost man within ten days 
 from that in which Almamen returns to Granada. I know my 
 master : and blood is to him as water." 
 
 " Let the wicked be consumed ! " cried Elias furiously, stamp- 
 ing his foot, while fire flashed from his dark eyes, for the in- 
 stinct of self-preservation made him fierce. " Not from me, 
 however," he added more calmly, "will come his danger. 
 Know that there be more than a hundred Jews in this city who 
 have sworn his death ; Jews who, flying hither from Cordova, 
 have seen their parents murdered and their substance seized, 
 and who behold, in the son of Issachar, the cause of the mur- 
 der and the spoil. They have detected the impostor, and a 
 hundred knives are whetting even now for his blood : let him 
 look to it. Ximen, I have spoken to thee as the foolish speak ; 
 thou mayest betray me to thy lord : but from what I have 
 learned of thee from our brethren, 1 have poured my heart into 
 thy bosom without fear. Wilt thou betray Israel, or assist us 
 to smite the traitor?" 
 
 Ximen mused a moment, and his meditation conjured up 
 the treasures of his master. He stretched forth his right 
 hand to Elias; and when the Israelites parted, they were 
 friends.
 
 LEILA. 105 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BOABDIL'S RETURN. THE REAPPEARANCE OF FERDINAND BE- 
 FORE GRANADA. 
 
 THE third morning from this interview, a rumor reached 
 Granada that Boabdil had been repulsed in his assault on the 
 citadel of Salobrena with a severe loss : that Hernando del 
 Pulgar had succeeded in conducting to its relief a considerable 
 force ; and that the army of Ferdinand was on its march 
 against the Moorish King. In the midst of the excitement 
 occasioned by these reports, a courier arrived to confirm their 
 truth, and to announce the return of Boabdil. 
 
 At nightfall, the King, preceding his army, entered the city, 
 and hastened to bury himself in the Alhambra. As he passed 
 dejectedly into the women's apartments, his stern mother met 
 him. 
 
 " My son," she said bitterly, " dost thou return and not a 
 conqueror?" 
 
 Before Boabdil could reply, a light and rapid step sped 
 through the glittering arcades ; and weeping with joy, and 
 breaking all the Oriental restraints, Amine fell upon his bosom. 
 " My beloved ! my king ! light of mine eyes ! thou hast returned. 
 Welcome for thou art safe." 
 
 The different form of these several salutations struck Boab- 
 dil forcibly. " Thou seest, my mother," said he, " how great 
 the contrast between those who love us from affection, and 
 those who love us from pride. In adversity, God keep me, 
 oh, my mother, from thy tongue ! " 
 
 " But I love thee from pride, too," murmured Amine ; " and 
 for that reason is thine adversity dear to me, for it takes thee 
 from the world to make thee more mine own : and I am proud 
 of the afflictions that my hero shares with his slave." 
 
 " Lights there, and the banquet ! " cried the King, turning 
 from his haughty mother ; " we will feast and be merry while 
 we may. My adored Amine, kiss me ! " 
 
 Proud, melancholy, and sensitive as he was in that hour of 
 reverse, Boabdil felt no grief : such balm has Love for our 
 sorrows, when its wings are borrowed from the dove ! And 
 although the laws of the Eastern life confined to the narrow 
 walls of a harem the sphere of Amine's gentle influence ; 
 although, even in romance, THE NATURAL compels us to por- 
 tray her vivid and rich colors only in a faint and hasty sketch, 
 yet still are left to the outline the loveliest and the noblest
 
 106 LEILA 
 
 features of the sex the spirit to arouse us to exertion, the 
 softness to console us in our fall ! 
 
 While Boabdil and the body of the army remained in the 
 city, Muza, with a chosen detachment of the horse, scoured 
 the country to visit the newly acquired cities, and sustain their 
 courage. 
 
 From this charge he was recalled by the army of Ferdinand, 
 which once more poured down into the Vega, completely 
 devastated its harvests, and then swept back to consummate 
 the conquests of the revolted towns. To this irruption suc- 
 ceeded an interval of peace the calm before the storm. From 
 every part of Spain the most chivalric and resolute of the 
 Moors, taking advantage of the pause in the contest, flocked 
 to Granada ; and that city became the focus of all that pagan- 
 ism in Europe possessed of brave and determined spirits. 
 
 At length Ferdinand, completing his conquests, and having 
 refilled his treasury, mustered the whole force of his domin- 
 ions forty thousand foot, and ten thousand horse ; and once 
 more, and for the last time, appeared before the walls of 
 Granada. A solemn and prophetic determination filled both 
 besiegers and besieged : each felt that the crowning crisis was 
 at hand. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE CONFLAGRATION. THE MAJESTY OF AN INDIVIDUAL PAS- 
 SION IN THE MIDST OF HOSTILE THOUSANDS. 
 
 IT was the eve of a great and general assault upon Granada, 
 deliberately planned by the chiefs of the Christian army. The 
 Spanish camp (the most gorgeous Christendom had ever 
 known) gradually grew calm and hushed. The shades deep- 
 ened, the stars burned forth more serene and clear. Bright, 
 in that azure air, streamed the silken tents of the court, blazoned 
 with heraldic devices, and crowned by gaudy banners, which, 
 filled by a brisk and murmuring wind from the mountains, 
 flaunted gayly on their gilded staves. In the centre of the 
 camp rose the pavilion of the Queen a palace in itself. Lances 
 made its columns ; brocade and painted arras, its walls ; and 
 the space covered by its numerous compartments would have 
 contained the halls and outworks of an ordinary castle. The 
 pomp of that camp realized the wildest dreams of Gothic, 
 coupled with Oriental splendor ; something worthy of a Tasso 
 to have imagined, or a Beckford to create. Nor was the 
 exceeding costliness of the more courtly tents lessened in effect
 
 LEILA. 107 
 
 by those of the soldiery in the outskirts, many of which were 
 built from boughs, still retaining their leaves savage and 
 picturesque huts ; as if, realizing old legends, wild men of the 
 woods had taken up the cross, and followed the Christian 
 warriors against the swarthy followers of Termagaunt and 
 Mahound. There, then, extended that mighty camp in pro- 
 found repose, as the midnight threw deeper and longer shadows 
 over the sward from the tented avenues and canvas streets. It 
 was at that hour that Isabel, in the most private recess of her 
 pavilion, was employed in prayer for the safety of the King, and 
 the issue of the Sacred War. Kneeling before the altar of that 
 warlike oratory, her spirit became rapt and absorbed from earth 
 in the intensity of her devotions ; and in the whole camp (save 
 the sentries), the eyes of that pious queen were, perhaps, the 
 only ones unclosed. All was profoundly still ; her guards, her 
 attendants, were gone to rest ; and the tread of the sentinel, 
 without that immense pavilion, was not heard through the 
 silken walls. 
 
 It was then that Isabel suddenly felt a strong grasp upon her 
 shoulder, as she still knelt by the altar. A faint shriek burst 
 from her lips ; she turned, and the broad, curved knife of an 
 Eastern warrior gleamed close before her eyes. 
 
 " Hush ! utter a cry, breathe more loudly than thy wont, and, 
 queen though thou art, in the centre of swarming thousands, 
 thou diest ! " 
 
 Such were the words that reached the ear of the royal Cas- 
 tilian, whispered by a man of stern and commanding, though 
 haggard, aspect. 
 
 " What is thy purpose ? Wouldst thou murder me ? " said 
 the Queen, trembling, perhaps for the first time, before a mor- 
 tal presence. 
 
 " Thy life is safe, if thou strivest not to elude or to deceive 
 me. Our time is short answer me. I am Almamen, the 
 Hebrew. Where is the hostage rendered to thy hands? I 
 claim my child. She is with thee I know it. In what corner 
 of thy camp?" 
 
 " Rude stranger ! " said Isabel, recovering somewhat from 
 her alarm, "thy daughter is removed, I trust, forever, from 
 thine impious reach. She is not within the camp." 
 
 " Lie not, Queen of Castile," said Almamen, raising his 
 knife ; " for days and weeks I have tracked thy steps, followed 
 thy march, haunted even thy slumbers, though men of mail 
 stood as guards around them ; and I know that my daughter 
 has been with thee. Think not I brave this danger without
 
 108 LEILA. 
 
 resolves the most fierce and dread. Answer me ! Where is my 
 child ? " 
 
 " Many days since," said Isabel, awed, despite herself, by 
 her strange position, " thy daughter left the camp for the 
 house of God. It was her own desire. The Saviour hath 
 received her into His fold." 
 
 Had a thousand lances pierced his heart, the vigor and energy 
 of life could scarce more suddenly have deserted Almamen. 
 The rigid muscles of his countenance relaxed at once, from 
 resolve and menace, into unutterable horror, anguish, and de- 
 spair. He recoiled several steps ; his knees trembled violently ; 
 he seemed stunned by a death-blow. Isabel, the boldest and 
 haughtiest of her sex, seized that moment of reprieve ; 
 she sprung forward, darted through the draperies into the 
 appartments occupied by her train, and, in a moment, the 
 pavilion resounded with her cries for aid. The sentinels were 
 aroused ; retainers sprang from their pillows ; they heard the 
 cause of the alarm ; they made to the spot ; when, ere they 
 reached its partition of silk, a vivid and startling blaze burst 
 forth upon them. The tent was on fire. The materials fed 
 the flame like magic. Some of the guards had yet the courage 
 to dash forward ; but the smoke and the glare drove them 
 back, blinded and dizzy. Isabel herself had scarcely time for 
 escape, so rapid was the conflagration. Alarmed for her hus- 
 band, she rushed to his tent to find him already awakened 
 by the noise, and issuing from its entrance, his drawn sword in 
 his hand. The wind, which had a few minutes before but 
 curled the triumphant banners, now circulated the destroying 
 flames. It spread from tent to tent, almost as a flash of light- 
 ning that shoots along neighboring clouds. The camp was in 
 one continued blaze, ere any man could dream of checking 
 the conflagration. 
 
 Not waiting to hear the confused tale of his royal consort, 
 Ferdinand, exclaiming : " The Moors have done this they 
 will be on us ! " ordered the drums to beat and the trumpets 
 to sound, and hastened in person, wrapped merely in his long 
 mantle, to alarm his chiefs. While that well-disciplined and 
 veteran army, fearing every moment the rally of the foe, en- 
 deavored rapidly to form themselves into some kind of order, 
 the flame continued to spread till the whole heavens were 
 illumined. By its light, cuirass and helmet glowed, as in the 
 furnace, and the armed men seemed rather like lifelike and 
 lurid meteors than human forms. The city of Granada was 
 brought near to them by the intensity of the glow ; and as a
 
 LEILA. 109 
 
 detachment of cavalry spurred from the camp to meet the an- 
 ticipated surprise of the Paynims, they saw, upon the walls and 
 roofs of Granada, the Moslems clustering, and their spears 
 gleaming. But, equally amazed with the Christians, and equally 
 suspicious of craft and design, the Moors did not issue from 
 their gates. Meanwhile the conflagration, as rapid to die as 
 to begin, grew fitful and feeble ; and the night seemed to fall 
 with a melancholy darkness over the ruin of that silken city. 
 
 Ferdinand summoned his council. He had now perceived 
 it was no ambush of the Moors. The account of Isabel, which, 
 at last, he comprehended ; the strange and almost miraculous 
 manner in which Almamen had baffled his guards, and pene- 
 trated to the royal tent might have aroused his Gothic super- 
 stition, while it relieved his more earthly apprehensions, if he 
 had not remembered the singular, but far from supernatural, 
 dexterity with which Eastern warriors, and even robbers, con- 
 tinued then, as now, to elude the most vigilant precautions, and 
 baffled the most wakeful guards : and it was evident, that the 
 fire which burned the camp of an army had been kindled 
 merely to gratify the revenge, or favor the escape, of an indi- 
 vidual. Shaking, therefore, from his kindly spirit the thrill of 
 superstitious awe that the greatness of the disaster, when 
 associated with the name of a sorcerer, at first occasioned, he 
 resolved to make advantage out of misfortune itself. The 
 excitement, the wrath of the troops, produced the temper 
 most fit for action. 
 
 "And Heaven," said the King of Spain to his knights and 
 chiefs, as they assembled round him, " has, in this conflagration, 
 announced to the warriors of the Cross, that henceforth their 
 camp shall be the palaces of Granada ! Woe to the Moslem 
 with to-morrow's sun ! " 
 
 Arms clanged, and swords leaped from their sheaths, as the 
 Christian knights echoed the anathema : " WOE TO THE MOS- 
 LEM!"
 
 110 LEILA. 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE GREAT BATTLE. 
 
 THE day slowly dawned upon that awful night ; and the 
 Moors, still upon the battlements of Granada, beheld the whole 
 army of Ferdinand on its march towards their walls. At a dis- 
 tance lay the wrecks of the blackened and smouldering camp ; 
 while before them, gaudy and glittering pennons waving, and 
 trumpets sounding, came the exultant legions of the foe. The 
 Moors could scarcely believe their senses. Fondly anticipat- 
 ing the retreat of the Christians, after so signal a disaster, the 
 gay and dazzling spectacle of their march to the assault filled 
 them with consternation and alarm. 
 
 While yet wondering and inactive, the trumpet of Boabdil 
 was heard behind : and they beheld the Moorish King at the 
 head of his guards, emerging down the avenues that led to the 
 gate. The sight restored and exhilarated the gazers ; and, 
 when Boabdil halted in the space before the portals, the shout 
 of twenty thousand warriors roiled ominously to the ears of the 
 advancing Christians. 
 
 " Men of Granada ! " said Boabdil, as soon as the deep and 
 breathless silence had succeeded to that martial acclamation, 
 '' the advance of the enemy is to their destruction ! In the fire 
 of last night, the hand of Allah wrote their doom. Let us 
 forth, each and all ! We will leave our homes unguarded 
 our hearts shall be their wall ! True, that our numbers are 
 thinned by famine and by slaughter, but enough of us are yet 
 left for the redemption of Granada. Nor are the dead departed 
 from us : the dead fight with us their souls animate our own. 
 He who has lost a brother, becomes twice a man. On this 
 battle we will set all. Liberty or chains ! Empire or exile ' 
 Victory or death ! Forward ! " 
 
 He spoke, and gave the rein to his barb. It bounded for- 
 ward, and cleared the gloomy arch of the portals, and Boabdil 
 el Chico was the first Moor who issued from Granada, to that 
 last and eventful field. Out, then, poured, as a river that 
 rushes from caverns into day, the burnished and serried files of 
 the Moorish cavalry. Muza came the last, closing the array. 
 Upon his dark and stern countenance there spoke not the
 
 LEILA. Ill 
 
 ardent enthusiasm of the sanguine King. It was locked and 
 rigid ; and the anxieties of the last dismal weeks had thinned 
 his cheeks, and ploughed deep lines around the firm lips and 
 iron jaw which bespoke the obstinate and unconquerable reso- 
 lution of his character. 
 
 As Muza now spurred forward, and, riding along the wheel- 
 ing ranks, marshalled them in order, arose the acclamation of 
 female voices ; and the warriers who looked back at the sound, 
 saw that their women their wives and daughters, their 
 mothers and their beloved (released from their seclusion by a 
 policy which bespoke the desperation of the cause) were gazing 
 at them, with outstretched arms, from the battlements and 
 towers. The Moors knew that they were now to fight for 
 their hearths and altars in the presence of those who, if they 
 failed, became slaves and harlots ; and each Moslem felt his 
 heart harden like the steel of his own sabre. 
 
 While the cavalry formed themselves into regular squadrons, 
 and the tramp of the foemen came more near and near, the Moorish 
 infantry, in miscellaneous, eager,and undisciplined bands, poured 
 out until, spreading wide and deep below the walls, Boab- 
 dil's charger was seen, rapidly careering amongst them, as, in 
 short but distinct directions, or fiery adjuration, he sought at 
 once to regulate their movements, and confirm their hot but 
 capricious valor. 
 
 Meanwhile the Christians had abruptly halted ; and the 
 politic Ferdinand resolved not to incur the full brunt of a whole 
 population, in the first flush of their enthusiasm and despair. 
 He summoned to his side Hernando del Pulgar, and bade 
 him, with a troop of the most adventurous and practiced horse- 
 men, advance towards the Moorish cavalry, and endeavor to 
 draw the fiery valor of Muza away from the main army. Then, 
 splitting up his force into several sections, he dismissed each 
 to different stations : some to storm the adjacent towers, others 
 to fire the surrounding gardens and orchards : so that the 
 action might consist rather of many battles than of one, and 
 the Moors might lose the concentration and union which made, 
 at present, their most formidable strength. 
 
 Thus, while the Mussulmans were waiting, in order for the 
 attack, they suddenly beheld the main body of the Christians 
 dispersing ; and while yet in surprise and perplexed, they saw 
 the fires breaking out from their delicious gardens, to the right 
 and left of the walls, and heard the boom of the Christian artil- 
 lery against the scattered bulwarks that guarded the approaches 
 of that city.
 
 Hi LEILA. 
 
 At that moment a cloud of dust rolled rapidly towards the 
 post occupied in the van by Muza ; and the shock of the 
 Christian knights, in their mighty mail, broke upon the centre 
 of the Prince's squadron. 
 
 Higher, by several inches, than the plumage of his com- 
 panions, waved the crest of the gigantic Del Pulgar ; and as 
 Moor after Moor went down before his headlong lance, his 
 voice, sounding deep and sepulchral through his visor, shouted 
 out : " Death to the infidel ! " 
 
 The rapid and dexterous horsemen of Granada were not, 
 however, discomfited by this fierce assault ; opening theit 
 ranks with extraordinary celerity, they suffered the charge to 
 pass, comparatively harmless, through their centre, and then 
 closing in one long and bristling line, cut off the knights from 
 retreat. The Christians wheeled round, and charged again 
 upon their foe. 
 
 " Where art thou, O Moslem dog ! that wouldst play the lion r 
 Where art thou, Muza Ben Abil Gazan ? " 
 
 " Before thee, Christian ! " cried a stern and clear voice ; and 
 from amongst the helmets of his people, gleamed the dazzling; 
 turban of the Moor. 
 
 Hernando checked his steed, gazed a moment at his foe, 
 turned back, for greater impetus to his charge, and in 3. 
 moment more, the bravest warriors of the two armies met, 
 lance to lance. 
 
 The round shield of Muza received the Christian's weapon ; 
 his own spear shivered, harmless, upon the breast of the giant 
 He drew his sword, whirled it rapidly over his head, and, fo* 
 some minutes, the eyes of the bystanders could scarcely mark 
 the marvellous rapidity with which strokes were given and 
 parried by those redoubted swordsmen. 
 
 At length, Hernando, anxious to bring to bear his superior 
 strength, spurred close to Muza ; and leaving his sword pen- 
 dant by a thong to his wrist, seized the shield of Muza in his 
 formidable grasp, and plucked it away.with a force that the Moor 
 vainly endeavored to resist : Muza, therefore, suddenly released 
 his hold ; and, ere the Spaniard recovered his balance (which 
 was lost by the success of his own strength, put forth to the 
 utmost), he dashed upon him the hoofs of his black charger, 
 and, with a short but heavy mace, which he caught up from 
 the saddle-bow, dealt Hernando so thundering a blow upon 
 the helmet, that the giant fell to the ground, stunned and 
 senseless. 
 
 To dismount, to repossess himself of his shield, to resume
 
 LEILA. 1 1. 3 
 
 his sabre, to put one knee to the breast of his fallen foe, was 
 the work of a moment ; and then had Don Hernando del Pul- 
 gar been sped, without priest or surgeon, but that, alarmed 
 by the peril of their most valiant comrade, twenty knights 
 spurred at once to the rescue, and the points of twenty lances 
 kept the Lion of Granada from his prey. Thither, with 
 similar speed, rushed the Moorish champions ; and the fight 
 became close and deadly round the body of the still uncon- 
 scious Christian. Not an instant of leisure to unlace the hel- 
 met of Hernando, by removing which, alone, the Moorish blade 
 could find a mortal place, was permitted to Muza ; and, 
 what with the spears and trampling hoofs around him, the 
 situation of the Paynim was more dangerous that that of the 
 Christian. Meanwhile, Hernando recoved his dizzy senses ; 
 and, made aware of his state, watched his occasion, and 
 suddenly shook off the knee of the Moor. With another 
 effort he was on his feet : and the two champions stood con- 
 fronting each other, neither very eager to renew the combat. 
 But on foot, Muza, daring and rash as he was, could not but 
 recognize his disadvantage against the enormous strength and 
 impenetrable armor of the Christian ; he drew back, whistled 
 to his barb, that, piercing the ranks of the horsemen, was by 
 his side on the instant, remounted, and was in the midst of the 
 foe, almost ere the slower Spaniard was conscious of his dis- 
 appearance. 
 
 But Hernando was not delivered from his enemy. Clear- 
 ing a space around him, as three knights, mortally wounded, 
 fell beneath his sabre, Muza now drew from behind his 
 shoulder his short Arabian bow ; and shaft after shaft came 
 rattling upon the mail of the dismounted Christian with so 
 marvellous a celerity, that, encumbered as he was with his 
 heavy accoutrements, he was unable either to escape from the 
 spot, or ward off that arrowy rain ; and felt that nothing but 
 chance, or Our Lady, could prevent the death which one such 
 arrow would occasion, if it should find the opening of the 
 visor, or the joints of the hauberk. 
 
 "Mother of Mercy !" groaned the knight, perplexed and 
 enraged, "let not thy servant be shot down like a hart, by this 
 cowardly warfare, but, if I must fall, be it with mine enemy, 
 grappling hand to hand." 
 
 While yet muttering this short invocation, the war-cry of 
 Spain was heard hard by, and the gallant company of Villena 
 was seen scouring across the plain, to the succor of their com- 
 rades. The deadly attention of Muza was distracted from indi-
 
 114 LEILA. 
 
 vidual foes, however eminent ; he wheeled round, re-collected 
 his men, and, in a serried charge, met the new enemy in mid- 
 way. 
 
 While the contest thus fared in that part of the field, the scheme 
 of Ferdinand had succeeded so far as to break up the battle in 
 detached sections. Far and near, plain, grove, garden, tower, 
 presented each the scene of obstinate and determined conflict. 
 Boabdil, at the head of his chosen guard, the flower of the 
 haughtier tribe of nobles, who were jealous of the fame and 
 blood of the tribe of Muza, and followed also by his gigantic 
 Ethiopians, exposed his person to every peril, with the despe- 
 rate valor of a man who feels his own stake is greatest in the 
 field. As he most distrusted the infantry, so, amongst the infan- 
 try he chiefly bestowed his presence ; and, wherever he ap- 
 peared, he sufficed, for the moment, to turn the chances of the 
 engagement. At length, at mid-day, Ponce de Leon led 
 against the largest detachment of the Moorish foot a strong 
 and numerous battalion of the best disciplined and veteran 
 soldiery of Spain. He had succeeded in winning a' fortress, 
 from which his artillery could play with effect ; and the troops 
 he led were composed, partly of men flushed with recent tri- 
 umph, and partly of a fresh reserve, now first brought into the 
 field. A comely and a breathless spectacle it was, to behold 
 this Christian squadron emerging from a blazing copse, which 
 they fired on their march ; the red light gleaming on their com- 
 plete armor, as, in steady and solemn order they swept on to 
 the swaying and clamorous ranks of the Moorish infantry. 
 Boabdil learned the danger from his scouts ; and hastily quit- 
 ting a tower, from which he had, for a while, repulsed a hostile 
 legion, he threw himself into the midst of the battalions men- 
 aced by the skilful Ponce de Leon. Almost at the same 
 moment, the wild and ominous apparition of Almamen, long 
 absent from the eyes of the Moors, appeared in the same quar- 
 ter, so suddenly and unexpectedly, that none knew whence he 
 had emerged ; the sacred standard in his left hand his sabre, 
 bared and dripping gore, in his right his face exposed, and 
 its powerful features working with an excitement that seemed 
 inspired : his abrupt presence breathed a new soul into the 
 Moors. 
 
 "They come! They come!" he shrieked aloud. "The 
 God of the East hath delivered the Goth into your hands ! " 
 
 From rank to rank from line to line sped the santon ; 
 and, as the mystic banner gleamed before the soldiery, each 
 closed his eyes, and muttered an "amen" to his adjurations.
 
 LEILA. 115 
 
 And now, to the cry of Spain and St. lago, came trampling 
 down the relentless charge of the Christian war. At the same 
 instant, from the fortress lately taken by Ponce de Leon, the 
 artillery opened upon the Moors, and did deadly havoc. The 
 Moslems wavered a moment, when before them gleamed the 
 white banner of Almamen ; and they beheld him rushing, alone, 
 and on foot, amidst the foe. Taught to believe the war itself 
 depended on the preservation of the enchanted banner, the 
 Paynims could not see it thus rashly adventured without anxiety 
 and shame : they rallied, advanced firmly, and Boabdil him- 
 self, with waving cimiter and fierce exclamations, dashed 
 impetuously, at the head of his guards and Ethiopians, into 
 the affray. The battle became obstinate and bloody. Thrice 
 the white banner disappeared amidst the closing ranks ; and 
 thrice, like a moon from the clouds, it shone forth again the 
 light and guide of the Pagan power. 
 
 The day ripened ; and the hills already cast lengthening 
 shadows over the blazing groves and the still Darro, whose 
 waters, in every creek where the tide was arrested, ran red with 
 blood, when Ferdinand, collecting his whole reserve, descended 
 from the eminence on which hitherto he had posted himself. 
 With him moved three thousand foot and a thousand horse, 
 fresh in their vigor and panting for a share in that glorious 
 day. The King himself, who, though constitutionally fearless, 
 from motives of policy rarely perilled his person, save on im- 
 minent occasions, was resolved not to be outdone by Boabdil ; 
 and, armed cap-a-pied in mail, so wrought with gold that it 
 seemed nearly all of that costly metal, with his snow-white 
 plumage waving* above a small diadem that surmounted his 
 lofty helm, he seemed a fit leader to that armament of heroes. 
 Behind him flaunted the great gonfanon of Spain, and trump 
 and cymbal heralded his approach. The Count de Tendilla 
 rode by his side. 
 
 " Senor," said Ferdinand, " the infidels fight hard ; but they 
 are in the snare we are about to close the nets upon them. 
 But what cavalcade is this ?" 
 
 The group that thus drew the King's attention consisted of 
 six squires, bearing, on a martial litter, composed of shields, 
 the stalwart form of Hernando del Pulgar. 
 
 " Ah, the dogs ! " cried the King, as he recognized the pale 
 features of the darling of the army, " have they murdered the 
 bravest knight that ever fought for Christendom ? " 
 
 " Not that, your Majesty," quoth he of the Exploits faintly ; 
 "but I am sorely stricken."
 
 116 LEILA. 
 
 "It must have been more than man who struck thee down," 
 said the King. 
 
 "It was the mace of Muza Ben Abil Gazan, an please you, 
 sire," said one of the squires ; " but it came on the good knight 
 unawares, and long after his own arm had seemingly driven 
 away the Pagan." 
 
 "We will avenge thee well," said the King, setting his teeth; 
 "let our own leeches tend thy wounds. 'Forward, Sir Knights ! 
 St. lago and Spain ! " 
 
 The battle had now gathered to a vortex ; Muza and his 
 cavalry had joined Boabdil and the Moorish foot. On the 
 other hand, Villena had been reinforced by detachments, that, 
 in almost every other quarter of the field, had routed the foe. 
 The Moors had been driven back, though inch by inch ; they 
 were now in the broad space before the very walls of the city, 
 which were still crowded by the pale and anxious faces of the 
 aged and the women : and at every pause in the artillery the 
 voices that spoke of HOME were borne by that lurid air to the 
 ears of the infidels. The shout that ran through the Christian 
 force, as Ferdinand now joined it, struck like* a death-knell 
 upon the last hope of Boabdil. But the blood of his fierce 
 ancestry burned in his veins, and the cheering voice of Alma- 
 men, whom nothing daunted, inspired him with a kind of su- 
 perstitious frenzy. 
 
 " King against King so be it ! Let Allah decide between 
 us ! " cried the Moorish monarch. " Bind up this wound 'tis 
 well ! A steed for the santon ! Now, my prophet and my 
 friend, mount by the side of thy King let us, at least, fall 
 together. Lelilies ! Lelilies ! " 
 
 Throughout the brave Christian ranks went a thrill of reluc- 
 tant admiration, as they beheld the Paynim King, conspicuous 
 by his fair beard and the jewels of his harness, lead the scanty 
 guard yet left to him once more into the thickest of their lines. 
 Simultaneously Muza and his Zegris made their fiery charge ; 
 and the Moorish infantry, excited by the example of their leaders, 
 followed with unslackened and dogged zeal. The Christians 
 gave way they were beaten back. Ferdinand spurred for- 
 ward ; and, ere either party were well aware of it, both kings 
 met in the same mette : all order and discipline, for the moment, 
 lost, general and monarch were, as common soldiers, fighting 
 hand to hand. It was then that Ferdinand, after bearing down 
 before his lance Nairn Reduon, second only to Muza in the 
 songs of Granada, beheld opposed to him a strange form, that 
 seemed to that royal Christian rather fiend than man : his'raven
 
 LEILA. 117 
 
 hair and beard, clotted with blood, hung like snakes about a 
 countenance whose features, naturally formed to give expres- 
 sion to the darkest passions, were distorted with the madness of 
 despairing rage. Wounded in many places, the blood dabbled 
 his mail ; while, over his head, he waved the banner wrought 
 with mystic characters, which Ferdinand had already been 
 taught to believe the workmanship of demons. 
 
 " Now, perjured King of the Nazarenes ! " shouted this for- 
 midable champion, " we meet at last ! No longer host and 
 guest, monarch and dervise, but man to man ! I am Alma- 
 men ! Die ! " 
 
 He spoke ; and his sword descended so fiercely on that 
 anointed head that Ferdinand bent to his saddle-bow. But 
 the King quickly recovered his seat, and gallantly met the 
 encounter ; it was one that might have tasked to the utmost 
 the prowess of his bravest knight. Passions which, in their 
 number, their nature, and their excess, animated no other 
 champion on either side, gave to the arm of Almamen, the 
 Israelite, a preternatural strength ; his blows fell like rain 
 upon the harness of the King : and the fiery eyes, the gleaming 
 banner of the mysterious sorcerer, who had eluded the tor- 
 tures of his Inquisition ; who had walked unscathed through 
 the midst of his army ; whose single hand had consumed the 
 encampment of a host, filled the stout heart of the King with 
 a belief that he encountered no earthly foe. Fortunately, per- 
 haps, for Ferdinand and Spain, the contest did not last long. 
 Twenty horsemen spurred into the mtte'e to the rescue of the 
 plumed diadem : Tendilla arrived the first ; with a stroke of 
 his two-handed sword, the white banner was cleft from its 
 staff, and fell to the earth. At that sight, the Moors around 
 broke forth in a wild and despairing cry : that cry spread from 
 rank to rank, from horse to foot ; the Moorish infantry, sorely 
 pressed on all sides, no sooner learned the disaster than they 
 turned to fly : the rout was as fatal as it was sudden. The 
 Christian reserve, just brought into the field, poured down upon 
 them with a simultaneous charge. Boabdil, too much engaged 
 to be the first to learn the downfall of the sacred insignia, sud- 
 denly saw himself almost alone, with his diminished Ethiopians, 
 and a handful of his cavaliers. 
 
 " Yield thee, Boabdil el Chico ! " cried Tendilla, from his 
 rear, or thou canst not be saved." 
 
 "By the Prophet, never !" exclaimed the King: and he 
 dashed his barb against the wall of spears behind him ; and 
 with but a score or so of his guard, cut his way through the
 
 Jl8 LEILA. 
 
 ranks that were not unwilling, perhaps, to spare so brave a 
 foe. As he cleared the Spanish battalions, the unfortunate 
 monarch checked his horse for a moment and gazed along the 
 plain : he beheld his army flying in all directions, save in that 
 single spot where yet glittered the turban of Muza Ben Abil 
 Gazan. As he gazed, he heard the panting nostrils of the 
 chargers behind, and saw the levelled spears of a company 
 despatched to take him, alive or dead, by the command of Fer- 
 dinand : he laid the reins upon his horse's neck, and galloped 
 into the city three lances quivered against the portals as he 
 disappeared through the shadows of the arch. But while 
 Muza remained, all was not yet lost : he perceived the flight of 
 the infantry and the King, and with his followers galloped 
 across the plain ; he came in time to encounter and slay, to a 
 man, the pursuers of Boabdil ; he then threw himself before 
 the flying Moors : 
 
 " Do ye fly in the sight of your wives and daughters ? 
 Would ye not rather they beheld ye die ? " 
 
 A thousand voices answered him : " The banner is in the 
 hands of the infidel all is lost ! " They swept by him, and 
 stopped not till they gained the gates. 
 
 But still a small and devoted remnant of the Moorish cava- 
 liers remained to shed a last glory over defeat itself. With 
 Muza, their soul and centre, they fought every atom of ground : 
 it was, as the chronicler expresses it, as if they grasped the soil 
 with their arms. Twice they charged into the midst of the 
 foe : the slaughter they made doubled their own number ; 
 but, gathering on and closing in, squadron upon squadron, 
 came the whole Christian army they were encompassed, 
 wearied out, beaten back, as by an ocean. Like wild beasts, 
 driven, at length, to their lair, they retreated with their faces 
 to the foe ; and when Muza came, the last, his cimiter shiv- 
 ered to the hilt he had scarcely breath to command the gates 
 to be closed and the portcullis lowered, ere he fell from his 
 charger in a sudden and deadly swoon, caused less by his 
 exhaustion than his agony and shame. So ended the last 
 battle fought for the Monarchy of Granada ! 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE NOVICE. 
 
 IT was in one of the cells of a convent, renowned for the 
 piety of its inmates, and the wholesome austerity of its laws,
 
 LEILA. 119 
 
 that a young novice sat alone. The narrow casement was 
 placed so high in the cold gray wall as to forbid to the tenant 
 of the cell the solace of sad, or the distraction of pious, 
 thoughts, which a view of the world without might afford. 
 Lovely, indeed, was the landscape that spread below ; but it 
 was barred from those youthful and melancholy eyes : for 
 Nature might tempt to a thousand thoughts, not of a tenor 
 calculated to reconcile the heart to an eternal sacrifice of the 
 sweet human ties. But a faint and partial gleam of sunshine 
 broke through the aperture, and made yet more cheerless the 
 dreary aspect and gloomy appurtenances of the cell. And the 
 young novice seemed to carry on within herself that struggle 
 of emotions, without which there is no victory in the resolves 
 of virtue : sometimes she wept bitterly, but with a low, subdued 
 sorrow, which spoke rather of despondency than passion ; 
 sometimes she raised her head from her breast, and smiled as 
 she looked upward, or as her eyes rested on the crucifix and 
 the death's head that were placed on the rude table by the 
 pallet on which she sate. They were emblems of death here, 
 and life hereafter, which, perhaps, afforded to her the sources 
 of a two-fold consolation. 
 
 She was yet musing, when a slight tap at the door was heard, 
 and the abbess of the convent appeared. 
 
 " Daughter," said she, " I have brought thee the comfort of 
 a sacred visitor. The Queen of Spain, whose pious tenderness 
 is maternally anxious for thy full contentment with thy lot, has 
 sent hither a holy friar, whom she deems more soothing in his 
 counsels than our brother Tomas, whose ardent zeal often ter- 
 rifies those whom his honest spirit only desires to purify and 
 guide. 1 will leave him with thee. May the saints bless his 
 ministry!" So saying, the abbess retired from the threshold, 
 making way for a form in the garb of a monk, with the hood 
 drawn over the face. The monk bowed his head meekly, ad- 
 vanced into the cell, closed the door, and seated himself on a 
 stool, which, save the table and the pallet, seemed the sole fur- 
 niture of the dismal chamber. 
 
 " Daughter," said he, after a pause, " it is a rugged and a 
 mournful lot, this renunciation of earth and all its fair desti- 
 nies and soft affections, to one not wholly prepared and armed 
 for the sacrifice. Confide in me, my child ; I am no dire in- 
 quisitor, seeking to distort thy words to thine own peril. I am 
 no bitter and morose ascetic. Beneath these robes still beats 
 a human heart, that can sympathize with human sorrows. 
 Confide in me without fear. Dost thou not dread the fate they
 
 120 LEILA. 
 
 would force upon thee ? Dost thou not shrink back ? Wouldst 
 thou not be free ? " 
 
 " No," said the poor novice ; but the denial came faint and 
 irresolute from her lips. 
 
 " Pause," said the friar, growing more earnest in his tone : 
 " pause there is yet time." 
 
 " Nay," said the novice, looking up with some surprise in 
 her countenance ; "nay, even were I so weak, escape now is 
 impossible. What hand could unbar the gates of the con- 
 vent? " 
 
 " Mine ! " cried the monk, with impetuosity. " Yes, I have 
 that power. In all Spain, but one man can save thee, and I 
 am he." 
 
 " You ! " faltered the novice, gazing at her strange visitor 
 with mingled astonishment and alarm. " And who are you, 
 that could resist the fiat of that Tomas de Torquemada, be- 
 fore whom, they tell me, even the crowned heads of Castile and 
 Arragon vail low ?" 
 
 The monk half rose, with an impatient and almost haughty 
 start, at this interrogatory ; but, reseating himself, replied, in a 
 deep and half-whispered voice : " Daughter, listen to me ! It 
 is true, that Isabel of Spain (whom the Mother of Mercy bless ! 
 for merciful to all is her secret heart, if not her outward 
 policy) it is true that Isabel of Spain, fearful that the path to 
 heaven might be made rougher to thy feet than it well need 
 be (there was a slight accent of irony in the monk's voice as 
 he thus spoke), selected a friar of suasive eloquence and gen- 
 tle manners, to visit thee. He was charged with letters to yon 
 abbess from the Queen. Soft though the friar, he was yet a 
 hypocrite. Nay, hear me out ! He loved to worship the rising 
 sun ; and he did not wish always to remain a simple friar, 
 while the Church had higher dignities of this earth to bestow. 
 In the Christian camp, daughter, there was one who burned 
 for tidings of thee ; whom thine image haunted ; who, stern as 
 thou v. ert to him, loved thee with a love he knew not of, till 
 thou wert lost to him. Why dost thou tremble, daughter ? 
 Listen, yet ! To that lover, for he was one of high birth, came 
 the monk ; to that lover the monk sold his mission. The monk 
 will have a ready tale, that he was waylaid amidst the moun- 
 tains by armed men, and robbed of his letters to the abbess. 
 The lover took his garb, and he took the letters ; and he hast- 
 ened hither. Leila ! beloved Leila ! behold him at thy feet ! " 
 
 The monk raised his cowl ; and dropping on his knee beside 
 her, presented to her gaze the features of the Prince of Spain.
 
 LEILA. 121 
 
 " You ! " said Leila, averting her countenance and vainly 
 endeavoring to extricate the hand which he had seized. " This 
 is indeed cruel. You, the author of so many sufferings such 
 calumny such reproach ! " 
 
 "I will repair all," said Don Juan fervently. "I alone, I 
 repeat it, have the power to set you free. You are no longer a 
 Jewess ; you are one of our faith ; there is now no bar upon 
 our loves. Imperious though my father all dark and dread 
 as is this new POWER which he is rashly erecting in his domin- 
 ions, the heir of two monarchies is not so poor in influence and 
 in friends, as to be unable to offer the woman of his love an 
 inviolable shelter, alike from priest and despot. Fly with me ! 
 quit this dreary sepulchre ere the last stone close over thee for- 
 ever ! I have horses, I have guards at hand. This night it 
 can be arranged. This night oh, bliss ! thoumayestbe ren- 
 dered up to earth and love ! " 
 
 " Prince," said Leila, who had drawn herself from Juan's 
 grasp during this address, and who now stood at a little dis- 
 tance, erect and proud, " you tempt me in vain ; or rather, 
 you offer me no temptation. I have made my choice ; I abide 
 by it." 
 
 " Oh ! bethink thee," said the Prince, in a voice of real and 
 imploring anguish ; " bethink thee well of the consequences of 
 thy refusal. Thou canst not see them yet ; thine ardor blinds 
 thee. But when hour after hour, day after day, year after year 
 steals on in the appalling monotony of this sanctified prison; 
 when thou shalt see thy youth withering without love, thine age 
 without honor ; when thy heart shall grow as stone within thee, 
 beneath the looks of yon icy spectres ; when nothing shall vary 
 the aching dulness of wasted life, save a longer faster a severer 
 penance : then, then will thy grief be rendered tenfold by the 
 despairing and remorseful thought, that thine own lips sealed 
 thine own sentence. Thou mayest think," continued Juan, 
 with rapid eagerness, " that my love to thee was, at first, light 
 and dishonoring. Be it so. I own that my youth has passed 
 in idle wooings, and the mockeries of affection. But, for the 
 first time in my life, I feel that I love. Thy dark eyes, thy 
 noble beauty, even thy womanly scorn, have fascinated me. I 
 never yet disdained where I have been a suitor acknowledge, 
 at last, that there is a triumph in the conquest of a woman's 
 heart. Oh, Leila ! do not do not reject me. You know not 
 how rare and how deep a love you cast away." 
 
 The novice was touched : the present language of Don Juan 
 was so different from what it had been before ; the earnest love
 
 122 LEILA. 
 
 that breathed in his voice, that looked from his eyes, struck a 
 chord in her breast ; it reminded her of her own unconquered, 
 unconquerable icve for the lost Muza. She was touched, 
 then touched to tears ; but her resolves were not shaken. 
 
 " Oh, Leila ! " resumed the Prince fondly, mistaking the 
 nature of her emotion, and seeking to pursue the advantage he 
 imagined he had gained, "look at yonder sunbeam, struggling 
 through the loophole of thy cell. Is it not a messenger from 
 the happy world ? Does it not plead for me ? Does it not 
 whisper to thee of the green fields, and the laughing vineyards, 
 and all the beautiful prodigality of that earth thou art about 
 to renounce forever? Dost thou dread my love? Are the 
 forms around thee, ascetic and lifeless, fairer to thine eyes than 
 mine? Dost thou doubt my power to protect thee ? I tell thee 
 that the proudest nobles of Spain would flock around my ban- 
 ner, were it necessary to guard thee by force of arms. Yet, 
 speak the word be mine and I will fly hence with thee, to 
 climes where the Church has not cast out its deadly roots, and, 
 forgetful of crowns and cares, live alone for thee. Ah, speak ! " 
 
 " My lord," said Leila calmly, and rousing herself to the 
 necessary effort, " I am deeply and sincerely grateful for the 
 interest you express, for the affection you avow. But you 
 deceive yourself. I have pondered well over the alternative I 
 have taken. I do not regret nor repent much less would I 
 retract it. The earth that you speak of, full of affections and 
 of bliss to others, has no ties, no allurements for me. I desire 
 only peace, repose, and an early death." 
 
 " Can it be possible," said the Prince, growing pale, " that 
 thou lovest another ? Then, indeed, and then only, would my 
 wooing be in vain." 
 
 The cheek of the novice grew deeply flushed, but the color 
 soon subsided: she murmured to herself: "Why should I 
 blush to own it now ?" and then spoke aloud : " Prince, I trust 
 I have done with the world ; and bitter the pang I feel when 
 you call me back to it. But you merit my candor : I have 
 loved another ; and in that thought, as in an urn, lie the ashes 
 of all affection. That other is of a different faith. We may 
 never never meet again below, but it is a solace to pray that 
 we may meet above. That solace, and these cloisters, are 
 dearer to me than all the pomp, all the pleasures, of the world." 
 
 The Prince sunk down, and, covering his face with his 
 hands, groaned aloud but made no reply. 
 
 " Go, then, Prince of Spain," continued the novice ; " son 
 cf the noble Isabel, Leila is not unworthy of her cares. Go,
 
 LEILA. tij 
 
 and pursue the great destinies that await you. And if you 
 forgive if you still cherish a thought of the poor Jewish 
 maiden, soften, alleviate, mitigate, the wretched and desperate 
 doom that awaits the fallen race she has abandoned for thy 
 creed." 
 
 " Alas, alas ! " said the Prince mournfully, " thee alone, per- 
 chance, of all thy race, I could have saved from the bigotry 
 that is fast covering this knightly land, like the rising of an 
 irresistible sea and thou rejectest me ! Take time, at least, 
 to pause to consider. Let me see thee again to-morrow." 
 
 " No, Prince, no not again ! I will keep thy secret only if 
 I see thee no more. If thou persist in a suit that I feel to be 
 that of sin and shame, then, indeed, mine honor " 
 
 " Hold ! " interrupted Juan, with haughty impatience " I 
 torment, I harass you no more. I release you from my impor- 
 tunity. Perhaps, already, I have stooped too low." He drew 
 the cowl over his features, and strode sullenly to the door ; 
 but, turning for one last gaze on the form that had so strangely 
 fascinated a heart capable of generous emotions, the meek and 
 despondent posture of the novice, her tender youth, her 
 gloomy fate, melted his momentary pride and resentment. 
 " God bless and reconcile thee, poor child ! " he said, in a 
 voice choked with contending passions, and the door closed 
 upon his form. 
 
 "I thank thee, Heaven, that it was not Muza !" muttered 
 Leila, breaking from a revery, in which she seemed to be com- 
 muning with her own soul ; " I feel that I could not have 
 resisted him" With that thought she knelt down, in humble 
 and penitent self-reproach, and prayed for strength. 
 
 Ere she had risen from- her supplications, her solitude was 
 again invaded by Torquemada, the Dominican. 
 
 This strange man, though the author of cruelties at which 
 nature recoils, had some veins of warm and gentle feeling, 
 streaking, as it were, the marble of his hard character ; and 
 when he had thoroughly convinced himself of the pure and 
 earnest zeal of the young convert, he relaxed from the grim 
 sternness he had at first exhibited towards her. He loved to 
 exert the eloquence he possessed, in raising her spirit, in 
 reconciling her doubts. He prayed for her, and he prayed 
 beside her, with passion and with tears. 
 
 He stayed long with the novice ; and, when he left her, she 
 was, if not happy, at least contented. Her warmest wish now, 
 was to abridge the period of her novitiate, which, at her desire, 
 the Church had already rendered merely a nominal probation.
 
 124 LEILA. 
 
 She longed to put irresolution out of her power, and to enter 
 at once upon the narrow road through the strait gate. 
 
 The gentle and modest piety of the young novice touched 
 the sisterhood : she was endeared to all of them. Her conver- 
 sion was an event that broke the lethargy of their stagnant 
 life. She became an object of general interest, of avowed 
 pride, of kindly compassion ; and their kindness to her who 
 from her cradle had seen little of her own sex, had a great 
 effect towards calming and soothing her mind. But, at night, 
 her dreams brought before her the dark and menacing coun- 
 tenance of her father. Sometimes he seemed to pluck her 
 from the gates of heaven, and to sink with her into the yawn- 
 ing abyss below. Sometimes she saw him with her beside the 
 altar, but imploring her to forswear the Saviour, before whose 
 crucifix she knelt. Occasionally her visions were haunted, 
 also, with Muza but in less terrible guise. She saw his calm 
 and melancholy eyes fixed upon her ; and his voice asked : 
 " Canst thou take a vow that makes it sinful to remember me ? " 
 
 The night, that usually brings balm and oblivion to the sad, 
 was thus made more dreadful to Leila than the day. Her 
 health grew feebler and feebler, but her mind still was firm. 
 In happier time and circumstance that poor novice would have 
 been a great character ; but she was one of the countless vic- 
 tims the world knows not of, whose virtues are in silent 
 motives, whose struggles are in the solitary heart. 
 
 Of the Prince she heard and saw no more. There were 
 times when she fancied, from oblique and obscure hints, that 
 the Dominican had been aware of Don Juan's disguise and 
 visit. But, if so, that knowledge appeared only to increase the 
 gentleness, almost the respect, which. Torquemada manifested 
 towards her. Certainly, since that day, from some cause or 
 other, the priest's manner had been softened when he ad- 
 dressed her ; and he who seldom had recourse to other arts 
 than those of censure and of menace, often uttered sentiments 
 half of pity and half of praise. 
 
 Thus consoled and supported in the day thus haunted and 
 terrified by night, but still not repenting her resolve, Leila saw 
 the time glide on to that eventful day when her lips were to 
 pronounce that irrevocable vovr which is the epitaph of life. 
 While in this obscure and remote convent progressed the his- 
 tory of an individual, we are summoned back to witness the 
 crowning fate of an expiring dynasty.
 
 LEILA I2S 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 THE PAUSE BETWEEN DEFEAT AND SURRENDER. 
 
 THE unfortunate Boabdil plunged once more amidst the 
 recesses of the Alhambra. Whatever his anguish, or his 
 despondency, none were permitted to share, or even to witness, 
 his emotions. But he especially resisted the admission to his 
 solitude, demanded by his mother, implored by his faithful 
 Amine, and sorrowfully urged by Muza : those most loved, or 
 most respected, were, above all, the persons from whom he 
 most shrunk. 
 
 Almamen was heard of no more. It was believed that he 
 had perished in the battle. But he was one of those who, 
 precisely as they are effective when present, are forgotten in 
 absence. And, in the mean while, as the Vega was utterly 
 desolated, and all supplies were cut off, famine, daily made 
 more terrifically severe, diverted the attention of each humbler 
 Moor from the fall of the city to his individual sufferings. 
 
 New persecutions fell upon the miserable Jews. Not having 
 taken any share in the conflict (as was to be expected from men 
 who had no stake in the country which they dwelt in, and whose 
 brethren had been taught so severe a lesson upon the folly of 
 interference), no sentiment of fellowship in danger mitigated the 
 hatred and loathing with which they were held ; and as, in their 
 lust of gain, many of them continued, amidst the agony and 
 starvation of the citizens, to sell food at enormous prices, the 
 excitement of the multitude against them, released, by the state 
 of the city, from all restraint and law, made itself felt by the 
 most barbarous excesses. Many of the houses of the Israelites 
 were attacked by the mob, plundered, razed to the ground, and 
 the owners tortured to death, to extort confession of imaginary 
 wealth. Not to sell what was demanded was a crime ; to sell 
 it was a crime also. These miserable outcasts fled to whatever 
 secret places the vaults of their houses or the caverns in the 
 hills within the city could yet afford them, cursing their fate, 
 and almost longing even for the yoke of the Christian bigots. 
 
 Thus passed several days ; the defence of the city abandoned 
 to its naked walls and mighty gates. The glaring sun looked 
 down upon closed shops and depopulated streets, save when 
 some ghostly and skeleton band of the famished poor collected, 
 in a sudden paroxysm of revenge or despair, around the 
 stormed and fired mansion of a detested Israelite. 
 
 At length, Boabdil aroused himself from his seclusion ; and
 
 126 LEILA. 
 
 Muza, to his own surprise, was summoned to the presence of 
 the King. He found Boabdil in one of the most gorgeous 
 halls of his gorgeous palace. 
 
 Within the Tower of Comares is a vast chamber, still 
 called the Hall of the Ambassadors. Here it was that Boabdil 
 now held his court. On the glowing walls hung trophies and 
 banners, and here and there an Arabian portrait of some 
 bearded king. By the windows, which overlooked the most 
 lovely banks of the Darro, gathered the santons and alfaquis, a 
 little apart from the main crowd. Beyond, through half-veiling 
 draperies, might be seen the great court of the Alberca, whose 
 peristyles were hung with flowers ; while, in the centre, the 
 gigantic basin, which gives its name to the court, caught the 
 sunlight obliquely, and its waves glittered on the eye from 
 amidst the roses that then clustered over it. 
 
 In the audience hall itself, a canopy, over the royal cushions 
 on which Boabdil reclined, was blazoned with the heraldic 
 insignia of Granada's monarchs. His guards, and his mutes, 
 and his eunuchs, and his courtiers, and his counsellors, and 
 his captains, were ranged in long files on either side the canopy. 
 It seemed the last flicker of the lamp of the Moorish empire, 
 that hollow and unreal pomp ! As Muza approached the mon- 
 arch, he was startled by the change of his countenance : the 
 young and beautiful Boabdil seemed to have grown suddenly 
 old ; his eyes were sunken, his countenance sown with wrinkles, 
 and his voice sounded broken and hollow on the ears of his 
 kinsman. 
 
 " Come hither, Muza," said he ; " seat thyself beside me, 
 and listen as thou best canst to the tidings we are about to 
 hear." 
 
 As Muza placed himself on a cushion, a little below the 
 King, Boabdil motioned to one amongst the crowd. 
 
 " Hamet," said he, " thou hast examined the state of the 
 Christian camp ; what news dost thou bring ? " 
 
 "Light of the Faithful," answered the Moor, "it is a camp 
 no longer it has already become a city. Nine towns of Spain 
 were charged with the task ; stone has taken the place of can- 
 vass ; towers and streets arise like the buildings of a genius ; 
 and the misbelieving King hath sworn that this new city shall 
 not be left until Granada sees his standard on its walls." 
 
 " Go on," said Boabdil calmly. 
 
 "Traders and men of merchandise flock thither daily; the 
 spot is one bazaar : all that should supply our famishing conn- 
 try prours its plenty into their mart."
 
 LEILA. i*f 
 
 Boabdil motioned to the Moor to withdraw, and an alfaqui 
 advanced in his stead. 
 
 " Successor of the Prophet and darling of the world ! " said 
 the reverend man, " the alfaquis and seers of Granada implore 
 thee on their knees to listen to their voice. They have con- 
 sulted the Books of Fate ; they have implored a sign from the 
 Prophet ; and they find that the glory has left thy people and 
 thy crown. The fall of Granada is predestined God is 
 great ! " 
 
 " You shall have my answer forthwith," said Boabdil. " Ab- 
 delemic, approach." 
 
 From the crowd came an aged and white-bearded man, the 
 governor of the city. 
 
 " Speak, old man," said the King. 
 
 " Oh, Boabdil ! " said the veteran, with faltering tones, while 
 the tears rolled down his cheeks ; " son of a race of kings and 
 heroes ! would that thy servant had fallen dead on thy threshold 
 this day, and that the lips of a Moorish noble had never been 
 polluted by the words that I now utter. Our state is hopeless ; 
 our granaries are as the sands of the desert ; there is in them 
 life neither for beast nor man. The war-horse that bore the 
 hero is now consumed for his food ; and the population of thy 
 city, with one voice, cry for chains and bread ! I have 
 spoken." 
 
 " Admit the ambassador of Egypt," said Boabdil, as Abde- 
 lemic retired. There was a pause : one of the draperies at the 
 end of the hall was drawn aside ; and with the slow and sedate 
 majesty of their tribe and land, paced forth a dark and swarthy 
 train, the envoys of the Egyptian Soldan. Six of the band bore 
 costly presents of gems and weapons, and the procession closed 
 with four veiled slaves, whose beauty had been the boast of the 
 ancient valley of the Nile. 
 
 " Sun of Granada and day-star of the faithful ! " said the 
 chief of the Egyptians, " my lord, the Soldan of Egypt, delight 
 of the world, and rose-tree of the East, thus answers to the let- 
 ters of Boabdil. He grieves that he cannot send the succor 
 thou demandest ; and informing himself of the condition of 
 thy territories, he finds that Granada no longer holds a seaport, 
 by which his forces (could he send them) might find an entrance 
 into Spain. He implores thee to put thy trust in Allah, who 
 will not desert his chosen ones, and lays these gifts, in pledge 
 of amity and love, at the feet of my lord the King." 
 
 " It is a gracious and well-timed offering," said Boabdil, with 
 a writhing lip ; " we thank him." There was now a long and.
 
 128 LEILA. 
 
 dead silence, as the ambassadors swept from the hall of audi- 
 ence : when Boabdil suddenly raised his head from his breast, 
 and looked around his hall with a kingly and majestic look : 
 "Let the heralds of Ferdinand of Spain approach." 
 
 A groan involuntarily broke from the breast of Muza : it 
 was echoed by a murmur of abhorrence and despair from the 
 gallant captains who stood around ; but to that momentary 
 burst succeeded a breathless silence, as from another drapery, 
 opposite the royal couch, gleamed the burnished mail of the 
 knights of Spain. Foremost of those haughty visitors, whose 
 iron heels clanked loudly on the tesselated floor, came a noble 
 and stately form, in full armor, save the helmet, and with a 
 mantle of azure velvet, wrought with the silver cross that made 
 the badge of the Christian war. Upon his manly countenance 
 was visible no sign of undue arrogance or exultation ; but some- 
 thing of that generous pity which brave men feel for conquered 
 foes dimmed the lustre of his commanding eye, and softened 
 the wonted sternness of his martial bearing. He and his train 
 approached the King with a profound salutation of respect ; 
 and falling back, motioned to the herald that accompanied him, 
 and whose garb, breast and back, was wrought with the arms of 
 Spain, to deliver himself of his mission. 
 
 " To Boabdil ! " said the herald, with a loud voice, that filled 
 the whole expanse, and thrilled with various emotions the dumb 
 assembly. " To Boabdil el Chico, King of Granada, Ferdi- 
 nand of Arragon and Isabel of Castile send royal greeting. 
 They command me to express their hope that the war is at 
 length concluded; and they offer to the King of Granada such 
 terms of capitulation as a king, without dishonor, may receive. 
 In the stead of this city, which their Most Christian Majesties 
 will restore to their own dominion, as is just, they offer, O 
 King, princely territories in the Alpuxarras mountains to your 
 sway, holding them by oath of fealty to the Spanish crown. 
 To the people of Granada their Most Christian Majes- 
 ties promise full protection of property, life, and faith, under a 
 government by their own magistrates, and according to their 
 own laws ; exemption from tribute for three years ; and taxes 
 thereafter, regulated by the custom and ratio of their present 
 imposts. To such Moors as, discontented with these provis- 
 ions, would abandon Granada, are promised free passage for 
 themselves and their wealth. In return for* these marks of 
 their royal bounty, their Most Christian Majesties summon 
 Granada to surrender (if no succor meanwhile arrive) within 
 seventy days. And these offers are now solemnly recorded in
 
 LEILA. 120 
 
 the presence, and through the mission, of the noble and re- 
 nowned knight, Gonzalvo of Cordova, deputed by their Most 
 Christian Majesties from their new city of Santa Fe." 
 
 When the herald had concluded, Boabdil cast his eye over 
 his thronged and splendid court. No glance of fire met his 
 own ; amidst the silent crowd, a resigned content was alone 
 to be perceived ; the proposals exceeded the hope of the 
 besieged. 
 
 " And," asked Boabdil, with a deep-drawn sigh, " if we 
 reject these offers ? " 
 
 "Noble Prince," said Gonzalvo earnestly, " ask us not to 
 wound thine ears with the alternative. Pause, and consider of 
 our offers ; and, if thou doubtest, O brave King ! mount the 
 towers of thine Alhambra, survey our legions marshalled 
 beneath thy walls, and turn thine eyes upon a brave people, 
 defeated, not by human valor, but by famine, and the inscrut- 
 able will of God." 
 
 " Your monarchs shall have our answer, gentle Christian, 
 perchance ere nightfall. And you, Sir Knight, who hast 
 delivered a message bitter for kings to hear, receive, at least, 
 our thanks for such bearing as might best mitigate the import. 
 Our Vizier will bear to your apartment those tokens of remem- 
 brance that are yet left to the monarch of Granada to bestow." 
 
 " Muza," resumed the King, as the Spaniards left the pres- 
 ence " thou hast heard all. What is the last counsel thou 
 canst give thy sovereign ? " 
 
 The fierce Moor had with difficulty waited this license to 
 utter such sentiments as death only could banish from that 
 unconquerable heart. He rose, descended from the couch, 
 and, standing a little below the King, and facing the motley 
 throng of all of wise or brave yet left to Granada, thus spoke : 
 
 " Why should we surrender? Two hundred thousand inhab- 
 itants are yet within our walls ; of these, twenty thousand, at 
 least, are Moors, who have hands and swords. Why should 
 we surrender? Famine presses us, it is true ; but hunger, that 
 makes the lion more terrible, shall it make the man more base? 
 Do ye despair ? So be it ! Despair, in the valiant, ought to 
 have an irresistible force. Despair has made cowards brave : 
 shall it sink the brave to cowards ? Let us arouse the people ; 
 hitherto, we have depended too much upon the nobles. Let 
 us collect our whole force, and march upon this new city, 
 while the soldiers of Spain are employed in their new pro- 
 fession of architects and builders. Hear me, God and 
 Prophet of the Moslem ! hear one who never was forsworn !
 
 IJ6 LEILA. 
 
 If, Moors of Granada, ye adopt my counsel, I cannot promise 
 ye victory, but I promise ye never to live without it : I promise 
 ye, at least, your independence for the dead know no chains ! 
 If we cannot live, let us so die that we may leave, to remotest 
 ages, a glory that shall be more durable than kingdoms. 
 King of Granada ! this is the counsel of Muza Ben Abil 
 Gazan." 
 
 The Prince ceased. But he, whose faintest word had once 
 breathed fire into the dullest, had now poured out his spirit 
 upon frigid and lifeless matter. No man answered no man 
 moved. 
 
 Boabdil alone, clinging to the shadow of hope, turned at 
 last towards the audience. 
 
 " Warriors and sages ! " he said, " as Muza's counsel is your 
 King's desire, say but the word, and, ere the hour-glass shed 
 its last sand, the blast of our trumpet shall be ringing through 
 the Vivarrambla." 
 
 " O King ! fight not against the will of Fate God is great ! " 
 replied the chief of the alfaquis. 
 
 " Alas ! " said Abdelemic, " if the voice of Muza and your 
 own fall thus coldly upon us, how can ye stir the breadless 
 and heartless multitude?" 
 
 " Is such your general thought and your general will ? " said 
 Boabdil. 
 
 An universal murmur answered, " Yes ! " 
 
 " Go then, Abdelemic," resumed the ill-starred King, " go 
 with yon Spaniards to the Christian camp, and bring us back 
 the best terms you can obtain. The crown has passed from 
 the head of El Zogoybi ; Fate sets her seal upon my brow. 
 Unfortunate was the commencement of my reign, unfortunate 
 its end. Break up the divan." 
 
 The words of Boabdil moved and penetrated an audience, 
 never till then so alive to his gentle qualities, his learned wis- 
 dom, and his natural valor. Many flung themselves at his feet, 
 with tears and sighs ; and the crowd gathered round to touch 
 the hem of his robe. 
 
 Muza gazed at them in deep disdain, with folded arms and 
 heaving breast. 
 
 " Women, not men ! " he exclaimed, " ye weep, as if ye had 
 not blood still left to shed ! Ye are reconciled to the loss of 
 liberty, because ye are told ye shall lose nothing else. Fools 
 and dupes ! I see, from the spot where my spirit stands above 
 ye, the dark and dismal future to which ye are crawling on 
 your knees : bondage and rapine the violence of lawless
 
 LEILA. 131 
 
 lust the persecution of hostile faith your gold wrung from ye 
 by torture your national name rooted from the soil. Bear 
 this, and remember me ! Farewell, Boabdil ! you I pity not ; 
 for your gardens have yet a poison, and your armories a sword. 
 Farewell, nobles and santons of Granada ! I quit my country 
 while it is yet free." 
 
 Scarcely had he ceased, ere he had disappeared from the 
 hall. It was as the parting genius of Granada ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE SOLITARY HORSEMAN. 
 
 IT was a burning and sultry noon, when, through a small 
 valley, skirted by rugged and precipitous hills, at the distance 
 of several leagues from Granada, a horseman in complete 
 armor wound his solitary way. His mail was black and un- 
 adorned ; on his visor waved no plume. But there was some- 
 thing in his carriage and mien, and the singular beauty of his 
 coal black steed, which appeared to indicate a higher rank 
 than the absence of page and squire, and the plainness of his 
 accoutrements, would have denoted to a careless eye. He rode 
 very slowly ; and his steed, with the license of a spoiled 
 favorite, often halted lazily in his sultry path as a tuft of 
 herbage, or the bough of some overhanging tree, offered its 
 temptation. At length, as he thus paused, a noise was heard 
 in a copse that clothed the decent of a steep mountain ; and 
 the horse started suddenly back, forcing the traveller from his 
 revery. He looked mechanically upward, and beheld the 
 figure of a man bounding through the trees, with rapid and 
 irregular steps. It was a form that suited well the silence and 
 solitude of the spot ; and might have passed for one of those 
 stern recluses half hermit, half soldier who, in the earlier 
 crusades, fixed their wild homes amidst the sands and caves of 
 Palestine. The stranger supported his steps by a long staff. 
 His hair and beard hung long and matted over his broad 
 shoulders. A rusted mail, once splendid with arabesque 
 enrichments, protected his breast ; but the loose gown a sort 
 of tartan, which descended below the cuirass was rent and 
 tattered, and his feet bare ; in his girdle was a short, curved 
 cimiter, a knife or dagger, and a- parchment roll, clasped and 
 bound with iron. 
 
 As the horseman gazed at this abrupt intruder on the soli- 
 tude, his frame quivered with emotion : and, raising himself to
 
 13* LEILA. 
 
 his full height, he called aloud : " Fiend or santon whatsoever 
 thou art what seekest thou in these lonely places, far from the 
 King thy counsels deluded, and the city betrayed by thy false 
 prophecies and unhallowed charms? " 
 
 " Ha ! " cried Almamen, for it was indeed the Israelite ; " by 
 thy black charger, and the tone of thy haughty voice, I know 
 the hero of Granada. Rather, Muza Ben Abil Gazan, why art 
 thou absent from the last hold of the Moorish empire ?" 
 
 " Dost thou pretend to read the future, and art thou blind to 
 the present ? Granada has capitulated to the Spaniard. Alone 
 1 have left a land of slaves, and shall seek, in our ancestral 
 Africa, some spot where the footstep of the misbeliever hath 
 not trodden." 
 
 " The fate of one bigotry is, then, sealed," said Almamen 
 gloomily ; "but that which succeeds it is yet more dark." 
 
 " Dog ! "cried Muza, couching his lance, "what art thou, that 
 thus blasphemest? " 
 
 " A Jew ! " replied Almamen, in a voice of thunder, and 
 drawing his cimiter : "a despised and despising Jew! Ask 
 you more ? I am the son of a race of kings. I was the worst 
 enemy of the Moors, till I found the Nazarene more hateful 
 than the Moslem ; and then even Muza himself was not their 
 more renowned champion. Come on, if thou wilt man to 
 man : I defy thee ! " 
 
 "No, no," muttered Muza, sinking his lance; "thy mail is 
 rusted with the blood of the Spaniard, and this arm cannot 
 smite the slayer of the Christian. Part we in peace." 
 
 " Hold, Prince ! " said Almamen, in an altered voice : " is 
 thy country the sole thing dear to thee ? Has the smile of 
 woman never stolen beneath thine armor ? Has thy heart 
 never beat for softer meetings than the encounter of a 
 foe?" 
 
 "Am I human, and a Moor ?" returned Muza. " For once 
 you divine aright ; and, could thy spells bestow on these eyes 
 but one more sight of the last treasure left to me on earth, I 
 should be as credulous of thy sorcery as Boabdil." 
 
 " Thou lovest her still, then this Leila ? " 
 
 " Dark necromancer, hast thou read my secret ? And 
 knovvest thou the name of my beloved one ? Ah ! let me 
 believe thee indeed wise, and reveal to me the spot of earth 
 which holds the delight of my soul ! Yes," continued the 
 Moor, with increased emotion, and throwing up his vizor, as if 
 for air " yes ; Allah forgive me ! but, when all was lost at 
 Granada, I had still one consolation in leaving my fated birth-
 
 LEILA. 133 
 
 place : I had license to search for Leila ; I had the hope to 
 secure to my wanderings in distant lands one to whose glance 
 the eyes of the houris would be dim. But I waste words. Tell 
 me where is Leila, and conduct me to her feet ! " 
 
 " Moslem, I will lead thee to her," answered Almamen, gazing 
 on the Prince with an expression of strange and fearful exulta- 
 tion in his dark eyes : " I will lead thee to her follow me. It 
 is only yesternight that I learned the walls that confined her ; 
 and from that hour to this have I journeyed over mountain 
 and desert, without rest or food." 
 
 " Yet what is she to thee ?" asked Muza suspiciously. 
 
 " Thou shalt learn full soon. Let us on." 
 
 So saying, Almamen sprang forward with a vigor which the 
 excitement of his mind supplied to the exhaustion of his body. 
 Muza wonderingly pushed on his charger, and endeavored to 
 draw his mysterious guide into conversation : but Almamen 
 scarcely heeded him. And when he broke from his gloomy 
 silence, it was but in incoherent and brief exclamations, often 
 in a tongue foreign to the ear of his companion. The hardy 
 Moor, though steeled against the superstitions of his race, less 
 by the philosophy of the learned than the contempt of the 
 brave, felt an awe gather over him as he glanced, from the 
 giant rocks and lonely valleys, to the unearthly aspect and 
 glittering eyes of the reputed sorcerer ; and more than once 
 he muttered such verses of the Koran as were esteemed by his 
 countrymen the counterspell to the machinations of the evil 
 genii. 
 
 It might be an hour that they had thus journeyed together, 
 when Almamen paused abruptly : " I am wearied," said he 
 faintly ; " and, though time presses, I fear that my strength will 
 fail me." 
 
 " Mount, then, behind me," returned the Moor, after some 
 natural hesitation : " Jew though thou art, I will brave the 
 contamination for the sake of Leila." 
 
 " Moor !" cried the Hebrew fiercely, "the contamination 
 would be mine. Things of the yesterday, as thy prophet and 
 thy creed are, thou canst not sound the unfathomable loathing 
 which each heart, faithful to the Ancient of Days, feels for such 
 as thou and thine." 
 
 " Now, by the Kaaba ! " said Muza, and his brow became 
 dark, "another such word, and the hoofs of my steed shall 
 trample the breath of blasphemy from thy body." 
 
 "I would defy thee to the death," answered Almamen dis- 
 dainfully ; " but I reserve the bravest of the Moors to witness
 
 134 LEILA. 
 
 a deed worthy of the descendant of Jephtha. But, hist ! I hear 
 hoofs ! " 
 
 Muza listened ; and his sharp ear caught a distinct ring upon 
 the hard and rocky soil. He turned round, and saw Almamen 
 gliding away through the thick underwood, until the branches 
 concealed his form. Presently, a curve in the path brought in 
 view a Spanish cavalier, mounted on an Andalusian jennet ; 
 the horseman was gayly singing one of the popular ballads of 
 the time ; and, as it related to the feats of the Spaniards 
 against the Moors, Muza's haughty blood was already stirred, 
 and his moustache quivered on his lip. "I will change the 
 air," muttered the Moslem, grasping his lance ; when, as the 
 thought crossed him, he beheld the Spaniard suddenly reel in 
 his saddle, and fall prostrate on the ground. In the same 
 instant, Almamen had darted from his hiding-place, seized the 
 steed of the cavalier, mounted, and, ere Muza recovered from 
 his surprise, was by the side of the Moor. 
 
 " By what charm," said Muza, curbing his barb, " didst thou 
 fell the Spaniard seemingly without a blow ? " 
 
 "As David felled Goliah by the pebble and the sling," 
 answered Almamen carelessly. " Now, then, spur forward, if 
 thou art eager to see thy Leila." 
 
 The horsemen dashed over the body of the stunned and 
 insensible Spaniard. Tree and mountain glided by ; gradually 
 the valley vanished, and a thick forest loomed upon their path. 
 Still they made on, though the interlaced boughs, and the 
 ruggedness of the footing, somewhat obstructed their way ; 
 until, as the sun began slowly to decline, they entered a broad 
 and circular space, round which trees of the eldest growth 
 spread their motionless and shadowy boughs. In the midmost 
 sward was a rude and antique stone, resembling the altar 
 of some barbarous and departed creed. Here Almamen 
 abruptly halted, and muttered inaudi.bly to himself. 
 
 "What moves thee, dark stranger?" said the Moor; "And 
 why dost thou mutter, and gaze on space ? " 
 
 Almamen answered not, but dismounted, hung his bridle to 
 a branch of a scathed and riven elm, and advanced alone into 
 the middle of the space. " Dread and prophetic power that 
 art within me ! " said the Hebrew aloud, " this, then, is the 
 spot, that, by dream and vision, thou hast foretold me wherein 
 to consummate and record the vow that shall sever from the 
 spirit the last weakness of the flesh. Night after night hast 
 thou brought before mine eyes, in darkness and in slumber, the 
 solemn solitude that I now survey. Be it so : I am prepared!"
 
 LEILA. 135 
 
 Thus speaking, he retired for a few moments into the wood ; 
 collected in his arms the dry leaves and withered branches 
 which cumbered the desolate clay ; and placed the fuel upon 
 the altar. Then, turning to the East, and raising his hands on 
 high, he exclaimed : " Lo ! upon this altar, once worshipped, 
 perchance, by the heathen savage, the last bold spirit of thy 
 fallen and scattered race dedicates, O Ineffable One ! that 
 precious offering thou didst demand from a sire of old. 
 Accept the sacrifice ! " 
 
 As the Hebrew ended his adjuration, he drew a phial from 
 his bosom, and sprinkled a few drops upon the arid fuel. A 
 pale blue flame suddenly leaped up; and, as it lighted the hag- 
 gard but earnest countenance of the Israelite, Muza felt his 
 Moorish blood congeal in his veins, and shuddered, though he 
 scarce knew why. Almamen, with his dagger, severed from 
 his head one of his long locks, and cast it upon the flame. He 
 watched it until it was consumed ; and then, with a stifled cry, 
 fell upon the earth in a dead swoon. The Moor hastened to 
 raise him ; he chafed his hands and temples ; he unbuckled 
 the vest upon his bosom ; he forgot that his comrade was a 
 sorcerer and a Jew, so much had the agony of that excitement 
 moved his sympathy. 
 
 It was not till several minutes had elapsed, that Almamen, 
 with a deep-drawn sigh, recovered from his swoon. "Ah, 
 beloved one ! bride of my heart ! " he murmured, " was it for 
 this that thou didst commend to me the only pledge of our 
 youthful love ? Forgive me ! I restore her to the earth, 
 untainted by the Gentile." He closed his eyes again, and a 
 strong convulsion shook his frame. It passed ; and he rose 
 as a man from a fearful dream, composed, and almost, as it 
 were, refreshed, by the terrors he had undergone. The last 
 glimmer of the ghastly light was dying away upon that ancient 
 altar, and a low wind crept sighing through the trees. 
 
 "Mount, Prince," said Almamen calmly, but averting his 
 eyes from the altar ; "we shall have no more delays." 
 
 "Wilt thou not explain thy incantation ?" asked Muza ; "Or 
 is it, as my reason tells me, but the mummery of a juggler?" 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " answered Almamen, in a sad and altered 
 tone, " thou wilt soon know all."
 
 136 LEILA. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SACRIFICE. 
 
 THE sun was now sinking slowly through those masses of 
 purple cloud which belong to Iberian skies ; when, emerging 
 from the forest, the travellers saw before them a small and 
 lovely plain, cultivated like a garden. Rows of orange and 
 citron trees were backed by the dark green foliage of vines ; 
 and, these, again, found a barrier in girdling copses of chestnut, 
 oak, and the deeper verdure of pines : while, far to the horizon, 
 rose the distant and dim outline of the mountain range, scarcely 
 distinguishable from the mellow colorings of the heaven. 
 Through this charming spot went a slender and sparkling tor- 
 rent, that collected its waters in a circular basin, over which 
 the rose and orange hung their contrasted blossoms. On a 
 gentle eminence, above this plain, or garden, rose the spires of 
 a convent : and, though it was still clear daylight, the long and 
 pointed lattices were illumined within, and. as the horsemen 
 cast their eyes upon the pile, the sound of the holy chorus 
 made more sweet and solemn from its own indistinctness, from 
 the quiet of the hour, from the sudden and sequestered loveli- 
 ness of that spot, suiting so well the ideal calm of the con- 
 ventual life rolled its music through the odorous and lucent 
 air. 
 
 But that scene and that sound, so calculated to soothe and 
 harmonize the thought, seemed to arouse Almamen into agony 
 and passion. He smote his breast with his clenched hand ; 
 and, shrieking, rather than exclaiming : God of my fathers ! 
 have I come too late?" buried his spurs to the rowels in the 
 sides of his panting steed. Along the sward, through the 
 fragrant shrubs, athwart the pebbly and shallow torrent, up the 
 ascent to the convent, sped the Israelite. Muza, wondering 
 and half reluctant, followed at a little distance. Clearer and 
 nearer came the voices of the choir ; broader and redder glowed 
 the tapers from the Gothic casements : the porch of the con- 
 vent chapel was reached ; the Hebrew sprang from his horse. 
 A small group of the peasants dependent on the convent loitered 
 reverently round the threshold : pushing through them, as one 
 frantic, Almamen entered the chapel and disappeared. 
 
 A minute elapsed. Muza was at the door ; but the Moor 
 paused irresolutely, ere he dismounted. " What is the cere- 
 mony ? " he asked of the peasants. 
 
 " A nun is about to take the vows," answered one of them.
 
 LEILA. 137 
 
 A cry of alarm, of indignation, of terror, was heard within. 
 Muza no longer delayed : he gave his steed to the bystander, 
 pushed aside the heavy curtain that screened the threshold, 
 and was within the chapel. 
 
 By the altar gathered a confused and disordered group the 
 sisterhood, with their abbess. Round the consecrated rail 
 flocked the spectators, breathless and amazed. Conspicuous 
 above the rest, on the elevation of the holy place, stood Alma- 
 men, with his drawn dagger in his right hand, his left arm 
 clasped around the form of a novice, whose dress, not yet 
 replaced by the serge, bespoke her the sister fated to the veil : 
 and, on the opposite side of that sister, one hand on her shoul- 
 der, the other rearing on high the sacred crucifix, stood a stern, 
 calm, commanding form, in the white robes of the Dominican 
 order : it was Tomas de Torquemada. 
 
 " Avaunt, Abaddon ! " were the first words which reached 
 Muza's ear, as he stood, unnoticed, in the middle of the aisle : 
 '' here thy sorcery and thine arts cannot avail thee. Release 
 the devoted one of God ! " 
 
 " She is mine ! She is my daughter ! I claim her from 
 thee as a father, in the name of the great Sire of Man ! " 
 
 " Seize the sorcerer ! Seize him ! " exclaimed the Inquisi- 
 tor, as, with a sudden movement, Almamen cleared his way 
 through the scattered and dismayed group, and stood with his 
 daughter in his arms, on the first step of the consecrated plat- 
 form. 
 
 But not a foot stirred, not a hand was raised. The epithet 
 bestowed on the intruder had only breathed a supernatural ter- 
 ror into the audience ; and they would have sooner rushed 
 upon a tiger in his lair, than on the lifted dagger and savage 
 aspect of that grim stranger. 
 
 " Oh, my father! " then said a low and faltering voice, that 
 startled Muza as a voice from the grave, "wrestle not against 
 the decrees of Heaven. Thy daughter is not compelled to her 
 solemn choice. Humbly, but devotedly, a convert to the 
 Christian creed, her only wish on earth is to take the conse- 
 crated and eternal vow." 
 
 " Ha ! " groaned the Hebrew, suddenly relaxing his hold, as 
 his daughter fell on her knees before him, "then have I indeed 
 been told, as I have foreseen, the worst. The veil is rent the 
 spirit hath left the temple. Thy beauty is desecrated ; thy 
 form is but unhallowed clay. Dog !" he cried, more fiercely, 
 glaring round upon the unmoved face of the Inquisitor, " this 
 is thy work : but thou shalt not triumph. Here, by thine own
 
 138 LEILA. 
 
 shrine, I spit at and defy thee, as once before, amidst the 
 tortures of thy inhuman court. Thus thus thus Alma- 
 men the Jew delivers the last of his house from the curse of 
 Galilee ! " 
 
 " Hold, murderer ! " cried a voice of thunder ; and an armed 
 man burst through the crowd and stood upon the platform. 
 It was too late : thrice the blade of the Hebrew had passed 
 through that innocent breast ; thrice was it reddened with that 
 virgin blood. Leila fell in the arms of her lover ; her dim eyes 
 rested upon his countenance, as it shone upon her, beneath his 
 lifted visor a faint and tender smile played upon her lips 
 Leila was no more. 
 
 One hasty glance Almamen cast upon his victim, and then, 
 with a wild laugh, that woke every echo in the dreary aisles, he 
 leaped from the place. Brandishing his bloody weapon above 
 his head, he dashed through the coward crowd ; and ere even 
 the startled Dominican had found a voice, the tramp of his 
 headlong steed rang upon the air ; an instant and all was 
 silent. 
 
 But over the murdered girl leaned the Moor, as yet incredu- 
 lous of her death ; her head, still unshorn of its purple tresses, 
 pillowed on his lap, her icy hand clasped in his, and her blood 
 weltering fast over his armor. None disturbed him ; for, hab- 
 ited as the knights of Christendom, none suspected his faith ; 
 and all, even the Dominican, felt a thrill of sympathy at his dis- 
 tress. How he came hither, with what object, what hope, their 
 thoughts were too much locked in pity to conjecture. There, 
 voiceless and motionless, bent the Moor, until one of the monks 
 approached and felt the pulse, to ascertain if life was, indeed, 
 utterly gone. 
 
 The Moor, at first, waved him haughtily away ; but, when 
 he divined the monk's purpose, suffered him in silence to take 
 the beloved hand. He fixed on him his dark and imploring 
 eyes ; and when the father dropped the hand, and, gently shak- 
 ing his head, turned away, a deep and agonizing groan was all 
 that the audience heard from that heart in which the last iron 
 of fate had entered. Passionately he kissed the brow, the 
 cheeks, the lips, of the hushed and angel face, and rose from 
 the spot. 
 
 " What dost thou here ? And what knowest thou of yon 
 murderous enemy of God and man ? " asked the Dominican, 
 approaching. 
 
 Muza made no reply, as he stalked slowly through the 
 chapel. The audience was touched to sudden tears. " For-
 
 LEILA. 139 
 
 bear ! " said they, almost with one accord, to the harsh Inquisi- 
 tor ; " he hath no voice to answer thee." 
 
 And thus, amidst the oppressive grief and sympathy of the 
 Christian throng, the unknov/n Paynim reached the door, 
 mounted his steed, and as he turned once more and cast a hur- 
 ried glance upon the fatal pile, the bystanders saw the large 
 tears rolling down his swarthy cheeks. 
 
 Slowly that coal-black charger wound down the hillock, 
 crossed the quiet and lovely garden, and vanished amidst the 
 forest. And never was known, to Moor or Christian, the 
 future fate of the hero of Granada. Whether he reached in 
 safety the shores of his ancestral Africa, and carved out new 
 fortunes and a new name ; or whether death, by disease or strife, 
 terminated obscurely his glorious and brief career, mystery 
 deep and unpenetrated, even by the fancies of the thousand 
 bards who have consecrated his deeds wraps in everlasting 
 shadow the destinies of Muza Ben Abil Gazan, from that hour, 
 when the setting sun threw its parting ray over his stately form 
 and his ebon barb, disappearing amidst the breathless shadows 
 of the forest. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE RETURN THE RIOT THE TREACHERY AND THE DEATH. 
 
 IT was the eve of the fatal day on which Granada was to be 
 delivered to the Spaniards, and in that subterranean vault be- 
 neath the house of Almamen, before described, three elders of 
 the Jewish persuasion were met. 
 
 Trusty and well-beloved Ximen," cried one, a wealthy and 
 usurious merchant, with a twinkling and humid eye, and a sleek 
 and unctuous aspect, which did not, however, suffice to dis- 
 guise something fierce and crafty in his low brow and pinched 
 lips, " trusty and well-beloved Ximen," said this Jew, "truly 
 thou hast served us well, in yielding to thy persecuted breth- 
 ren this secret shelter. Here, indeed, may the heathen search 
 for us in vain. Verily, my veins grow warm again ; and thy 
 servant hungereth, and hath thirst." 
 
 "Eat, Isaac eat ; yonder are viands prepared for thee ; eat 
 and spare not. And thou, Elias wilt thou not draw near the 
 board? The wine is old and precious and will revive thee." 
 
 " Ashes and hyssop hyssop and ashes, are food and drink 
 for me ! " answered Elias, with passionate bitterness ; they 
 have razed my house; they have burned my granaries ; they 
 have molten down my gold. I am a ruined man ! "
 
 14 LEILA. 
 
 " Nay," said Ximen, who gazed at him with a malevolent eye 
 (for so utterly had years and serrows mixed with gall even the 
 one kindlier sympathy he possessed, that he could not resist an 
 inward chuckle over the very afflictions he relieved, and the 
 very impotence he protected); "Nay, Elias, thou hast wealth 
 yet left in the seaport towns sufficient to buy up half Granada." 
 
 " The Nazarene will seize it all ! " cried Elias ; " I see it 
 already in his grasp ! " 
 
 " Nay, thinkest thou so ? and wherefore ? " asked Ximen, 
 startled into sincere, because selfish, anxiety. 
 
 " Mark me ! Under license of the truce, I went, last night, 
 to the Christian camp : I had an interview with the Christian 
 King ; and when he heard my name and faith, his very beard 
 curled with ire. ' Hound of Belial ! ' he roared forth, ' has not 
 thy comrade carrion, the sorcerer Almamen, sufficiently de- 
 ceived and insulted the majesty of Spain ? For his sake, ye 
 shall have no quarter. Tarry here another instant, and thy 
 corpse shall be swinging to the winds ! Go, and count over 
 thy misgotten wealth : just census shall be taken of it ; and if 
 thou defraudest our holy impost by one piece of copper, thou 
 shall sup with Dives ! ' Such was my mission and mine 
 answer. I return home to see the ashes of mine house ! Woe 
 is me ! " 
 
 "And this we owe to Almamen, the pretended Jew ! " cried 
 Isaac, from his solitary, but not idle, place at the board. 
 
 " I would this knife were at his false throat ! " growled Elias, 
 clutching his poniard, with his long, bony fingers. 
 
 " No chance of that," muttered Ximen ; " he will return no 
 more to Granada. The vulture and the worm have divided 
 his carcass between them ere this ; and (he added inly, with a 
 hideous smile) his house and his gold have fallen into the 
 hands of old, childless Ximen." 
 
 " This is a strange and fearful vault," said Isaac, quaffing a 
 large goblet of the hot wine of the Vega ; " here might the 
 Witch of Endor have raised the dead. Yon door whither 
 doth it lead?" 
 
 " Through passages none, that I know of, save my master, 
 hath trodden," answered Ximen. " I have heard that they 
 reach even to the Alhambra. " Come, worthy Elias ! thy form 
 trembles with the cold : take this wine." 
 
 " Hist ! " said Elias, shaking from limb to limb ; " our pur- 
 suers are upon us I hear a step ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the door to which Isaac had pointed slowly 
 opened, and Almamen entered the vault.
 
 LEILA. 141 
 
 Had, indeed, a new Witch of Endor conjured up the dead, 
 the apparition would not more have startled and appalled that 
 goodly trio. Elias, griping his knife, retreated to the farthest 
 end of the vault. Isaac dropped the goblet he was about to 
 drain, and fell upon his knees. Ximen, alone growing, if 
 possible, a shade more ghastly retained something of self- 
 possession, as he muttered to himself : " He lives ! and his 
 gold is not mine ! Curse him ! " 
 
 Seemingly unconscious of the strange guests his sanctuary 
 shrouded, Almamen stalked on, like a man walking in his 
 sleep. 
 
 Ximen roused himself, softly unbarred the door which 
 admitted to the upper apartments, and motioned to his com- 
 rades to avail themselves of the opening : but as Isaac the 
 first to accept the hint crept across, Almamen fixed upon 
 him his terrible eye, and appearing suddenly to awake to con- 
 sciousness, shouted out : " Thou miscreant, Ximen ! whom hast 
 thou admitted to the secrets of thy lord ? Close the door 
 these men must die ! " 
 
 "Mighty master !" said Ximen calmly, "is thy servant to 
 blame, that he believed the rumor that declared thy death ? 
 These men are of our holy faith, whom I have snatched from 
 the violence of the sacrilegious and maddened mob. No spot 
 but this seemed safe from the popular frenzy." 
 
 " Are ye Jews ? " said Almamen. " Ah, yes ! I know ye 
 now things of the market-place and bazaar ! Oh, ye are 
 Jews, indeed ! Go, gc ! Leave me ! " 
 
 Waiting no further license, the three vanished ; but ere he 
 quitted the vault, Elias turned back his scowling countenance 
 on Almamen (who had sunk again into an absorbed medita- 
 tion), with a glance of vindictive ire Almamen was alone. 
 
 In less than a quarter of an hour Ximen returned to seek his 
 master ; but the place was again deserted. 
 
 It was midnight in the streets of Granada midnight, but not 
 repose. The multitude, roused into one of their paroxysms of 
 wrath and sorrow, by the reflection that the morrow was indeed 
 the day of their subjection to the Christian foe, poured forth 
 through the streets to the number of twenty thousand. It was 
 a wild and stormy night ; those formidable gusts of wind, which 
 sometimes sweep in sudden winter from the snows of the Sierra 
 Nevada, howled through the tossing groves, and along the wind- 
 ing streets. But the tempest seemed to heighten, as if by the 
 sympathy of the elements, the popular storm and whirlwind. 
 Brandishing arms and torches, and gaunt with hunger, the dark
 
 I4 LEILA. 
 
 forms of the frantic Moors seemed like ghouls, or spectres, 
 rather than mortal men ; as, apparently without an object, save 
 that of venting their own disquietude, or exciting the fears 
 of earth, they swept through the desolate city. 
 
 In the broad space of the Vivarrambla, the crowd halted ; 
 irresolute in all else, but resolved, at least, that something for 
 Granada should yet be done. They were, for the most, armed 
 in their Moorish fashion ; but they were wholly without lead- 
 ers : not a noble, a magistrate, an officer, would have dreamed 
 of the hopeless enterprise of violating the truce with Ferdinand. 
 It was a mere popular tumult the madness of a mob ; but not 
 the less formidable, for it was an Eastern mob, and a mob with 
 sword and shaft, with buckler and mail the mob by which 
 Oriental empires have been built and overthrown ! There in 
 the splendid space that had witnessed the games and tourna- 
 ments of that Arab and African chivalry there, where, for 
 many a lustrum, kings had reviewed devoted and conquering 
 armies assembled those desperate men ; the loud winds agita- 
 ting their tossing torches, that struggled against the moonless 
 night. 
 
 " Let us storm the Alhambra ! " cried one of the band: "let 
 us seize Boabdil, and place him in the midst of us ; let us rush 
 against the Christians, buried in their proud repose ! " 
 
 " Lelilies, Lelilies ! the Keys and the Crescent ! " shouted 
 the mob. 
 
 The shout died : and at the verge of the space was suddenly 
 heard a once familiar and ever-thrilling voice. 
 
 The Moors who heard it turned round in amaze and awe ; 
 and beheld, raised upon the stone upon which the criers or 
 heralds had been wont to utter the royal proclamations, the form 
 of Almamen, the santon, whom they had deemed already with 
 the dead. 
 
 " Moors, and people of Granada !" he said, in a solemn, but 
 hollow voice, " I am with ye still. Your monarch and your 
 heroes have deserted ye, but I am with ye to the last ! Go not 
 to the Alhambra : the fort is impenetrable, the guard faithful. 
 Night will be wasted, and day bring upon you the Christian 
 army. March to the gates ; pour along the Vega ; descend at 
 once upon the foe ! " 
 
 He spoke, and drew forth his sabre ; it gleamed in the torch- 
 light the Moors bowed their heads in fanatic reverence, the 
 santon sprang from the stone, and passed into the centre of the 
 crowd. 
 
 Then, once more, arose joyful shouts. The multitude had
 
 LEILA. 143 
 
 found a leader worthy of their enthusiasm ; and in regular 
 order they formed themselves rapidly, and swept down the 
 narrow streets. 
 
 Swelled by several scattered groups of desultory marauders 
 (the ruffians and refuse of the city), the infidel numbers were 
 now but a few furlongs from the great gate, whence they had 
 been wont to issue on the foe. And then, perhaps, had the 
 Moors passed these gates, and reached the Christian encamp- 
 ment, lulled, as it was, in security and sleep, that wild army of 
 twenty thousand desperate men might have saved Granada ; 
 and Spain might at this day, possess the only civilized empire 
 which the faith of Mahomet ever founded. 
 
 But the evil star of Boabdil prevailed. The news of the in- 
 surrection in the city reached him. Two aged men from the 
 lower city arrived at the Alhambra, demanded and obtained an 
 audience ; and the effect of that interview was instantaneous 
 upon Boabdil. In the popular frenzy he saw only a justifiable 
 excuse for the Christian King to break the conditions of the 
 treaty, raze the city, and exterminate the inhabitants. Touched 
 by a generous compassion for his subjects, and actuated no less 
 by a high sense of kingly honor, which led him to preserve a 
 truce solemnly sworn to, he once more mounted his cream- 
 colored charger, with the two elders who had sought him by 
 his side ; and, at the head of his guard, rode from the Alhambra. 
 The sound of his trumpets, the tramp of his steeds ; the voice 
 his heralds, simultaneously reached the multitude ; and, ere 
 they had leisure to decide their course, the King was in the 
 midst of them. 
 
 " What madness is this, O my people ?" cried Boabdil, spur- 
 ring into the midst of the throng ; "Whither would ye go?" 
 
 "Against the Christian! against the Goth!" shouted a 
 thousand voices. " Lead us on ! The santon is risen from 
 the dead, and will ride by thy right hand ! " 
 
 " Alas ! " resumed the King, " ye would march against the 
 Christian King ! Remember that our hostages are in his 
 power ; remember that he will desire no better excuse to level 
 Granada with the dust, and put you and your children to the 
 sword. We have made such treaty as never yet was made 
 between foe and foe. Your 'lives, laws, wealth all are saved. 
 Nothing is lost, save the crown of Boabdil. I am the only suf- 
 ferer. So be it. My evil star brought on you these evil des- 
 tinies : without me, you may revive and be once more a nation. 
 Yield to fate to-day, and you may grasp her proudest awards 
 to-morrow. To succumb is not to be subdued. But go forth
 
 T44 LEILA 
 
 against the Christians, and if we win one battle, it is but to 
 incur a more terrible war ; if you lose, it is not honorable 
 capitulation, but certain extermination, to which you rush ! 
 Be persuaded, and listen once again to your King." 
 
 The crowd were moved, were softened, were half-convinced. 
 They turned, in silence, towards their santon ; and Almamen 
 did not shrink from the appeal ; but stood forth confronting 
 the King. 
 
 "King of Granada ! " he cried aloud, "behold thy friend 
 thy prophet ! Lo ! I assure you victory ! " 
 
 "Hold!" interrupted Boabdil, " thou hast deceived and 
 betrayed me too long ! Moors ! know ye this pretended san- 
 ton ? He is of no Moslem creed. He is a hound of Israel, 
 who would sell you to the best bidder. Slay him ! " 
 
 " Ha ! " cried Almamen, " and who is my accuser ? " 
 
 " Thy servant behold him ! " At these words the royal 
 guards lifted their torches, and the glare fell, redly, on the 
 death-like features of Ximen. 
 
 "Light of the world ! there be other Jews that know him," 
 said the traitor. 
 
 " Will ye suffer a Jew to lead ye, O race of the Prophet ? " 
 cried the King. 
 
 The crowd stood confused and bewildered : Almamen felt 
 his hour was come ; he remained silent, his arms lolded, his 
 brow erect. 
 
 " Be there any of the tribe of Moisa amongst the crowd ? " 
 cried Boabdil, pursuing his advantage; "if so, let them ap- 
 proach and testify what they know." Forth came, not from 
 the crowd, but from amongst Boabdil's train, a well-known 
 Israelite : 
 
 " We disown this man of blood and fraud," said Elias, bow- 
 ing to the earth ; "but he was of our creed." 
 
 " Speak, false santon ! art thou dumb?" cried the King. 
 
 " A curse light on thee, dull fool ! " cried Almamen fiercely. 
 " What matters who the instrument that would have restored 
 to thee thy throne ? Yes ! I, who have ruled thy councils, who 
 have led thine armies, I am of the race of Joshua and of Sam- 
 uel and the Lord of Hosts is the God of Almamen ! " 
 
 A shudder ran through that miglity multitude : but the looks, 
 the mien, and the voice of the man awed them, and not a 
 weapon was raised against him. He might, even then, have 
 passed scathless through the crowd ; he might have borne to 
 other climes his burning passions and his torturing woes : 
 but his care for life was past : he desired but to curse his
 
 LEILA. 145 
 
 dupes and die. He paused, looked round, and burst into a 
 laugh of such bitter and haughty scorn, as the tempted of 
 earth may hear, in the halls below, from the lips of Eblis. 
 
 " Yes," he exclaimed, " such I am ! I have been your idol 
 and your lord ; I may be your victim, but, in death, I am your 
 vanquisher. Christian and Moslem alike my foe, I would 
 have trampled upon both. But the Christian, wiser than you, 
 gave me smooth words ; and I would have sold ye to his pow- 
 er : wickeder than you, he deceived me ; and I would have 
 crushed him, that I might have continued to deceive and 
 rule the puppets that ye call your chiefs. But they for whom 
 I toiled, and labored, and sinned for whom I surrendered 
 peace and ease, yea, and a daughter's person and a daughter's 
 blood they have betrayed me to your hands, and the Curse of 
 Old rests with them evermore Amen ! The disguise is rent : 
 Almamen, the santon, is the son of Issachar the Jew ! " 
 
 More might he have said, but the spell was broken. With a 
 ferocious yell, those living waves of the multitude rushed over 
 the stern fanatic ; six cimiters passed through him, and he fell 
 not : at the seventh he was a corpse. Trodden in the clay 
 then whirled aloft limb torn from limb ere a man culd have 
 drawn breath nine times, scarce a vestige of the human form 
 was left to the mangled and bloody clay. 
 
 One victim sufficed to slake the wrath of the crowd. They 
 gathered like wild beasts whose hunger is appeased around 
 their monarch, who in vain had endeavored to stay their sum- 
 mary revenge, and who now, pale and breathless, shrunk from 
 the passions he had excited. He faltered forth a few words 
 of remonstrance and exhortation, turned the head of his steed, 
 and took his way to his palace. 
 
 The crowd dispersed, but not yet to their homes. The crime 
 of Almamen worked against his whole race. Some rushed to 
 the Jews' quarter, which they set on fire ; others to the lonely 
 mansion of Almamen. 
 
 Ximen, on quitting the King, had been before the mob. 
 Not anticipating such an effect of the popular rage, he had 
 hastened to the house, which he now deemed at length his own. 
 He had just reached the treasury of his dead lord he had just 
 feasted his eyes on the massive ingots and glittering gems ; in 
 the lust of his heart he had just cried aloud : " And these are 
 mine ! " when he heard the roar of the mob below the wall 
 when he saw the glare of their torches against the casement. 
 It was in vain that he shrieked aloud : " I am the man that 
 exposed the Jew J " the wild winds scattered his words over a
 
 146 LEILA. 
 
 deafened audience. Driven from his chamber by the smoke 
 and flame, afraid to venture forth amongst the crowd, the miser 
 loaded himself with the most precious of the store ; he de- 
 scended the steps, he bent his way to the secret vault, when 
 suddenly the floor, pierced by the flames, crashed under him, 
 and the fire rushed up in a fiercer and more rapid volume, as 
 the death-shriek broke through that lurid shroud. 
 
 Such were the principal events of the last night of the Moor- 
 ish dynasty in Granada. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 DAY dawned upon Granada : the populace had sought their 
 homes, and a profound quiet wrapped the streets, save where, 
 from the fires committed in the late tumult, was yet heard the 
 crash of roofs, or the crackle of the light and fragrant timber 
 employed in those pavilions of the summer. The manner in 
 which the mansions of Granada were built, each separated 
 from the other by extensive gardens, fortunately prevented the 
 flames from extending. But the inhabitants cared so little for 
 the hazard, that not a single guard remained to watch the result. 
 Now and then, some miserable forms in the Jewish gown 
 might be seen cowering by the ruins of their house, like the 
 souls that, according to Plato, watch in charnels over their own 
 mouldering bodies. Day dawned and the beams of the winter 
 sun, smiling away the clouds of the past night, played cheer- 
 ily on the murmuring waves of the Xenil and the Darro. 
 
 Alone, upon a balcony commanding that stately landscape, 
 stood the last of the Moorish kings. He had sought to bring 
 to his aid all the lessons of the philosophy he had cultivated. 
 
 " What are we," thought the musing prince, " that we should 
 fill the world with ourselves we kings ! Earth resounds with 
 the crash of my falling throne : on the ear of races unborn the 
 echo will live prolonged. But what have I lost ? nothing that 
 was necessary to my happiness, my repose ; nothing save the 
 source of all my wretchedness, the Marah of my life ! Shall I 
 less enjoy heaven and earth, or thought or action, or man's 
 more material luxuries of food or sleep the common and the 
 cheap desires of all ? Arouse thee, then, O heart within me ! 
 many and deep emotions of sorrow or of joy are yet. left to 
 break the monotony of existence." 
 
 He paused ; and, at the distance, his eye fell upon th$
 
 LEILA. 147 
 
 lonely minarets of the distant and deserted palace of Muza 
 Ben Abil Gazan. 
 
 "Thouwert right, then," resumed the King " thou wert 
 right, brave spirit, not to pity Boabdil : but not because death 
 was in his power ; man's soul is greater than his fortunes, and 
 there is majesty in a life that towers above the ruins that fall 
 around its path." He turned away, and his cheek suddenly grew 
 pale ; for he heard in the courts below, the tread of hoofs, 
 the bustle of preparation : it was the hour for his departure. 
 His philosophy vanished : he groaned aloud, and re-entered 
 the chamber, just as his Vizier and the chief of his guard 
 broke upon his solitude. 
 
 The old Vizier attempted to speak, but his voice failed him. 
 
 " It is time, then, to depart," said Boabdil with calmness ; 
 " let it be so : render up the palace and the fortress, and join 
 thy friend, no more thy monarch, in his new home." 
 
 He stayed not for reply : he hurried on, descended to the 
 court, flung himself on his barb, and, with a small and sad- 
 dened train, passed through the gate which we yet survey, by a 
 blackened and crumbling tower, overgrown with vines and ivy; 
 thence, amidst gardens now appertaining to the convent of the 
 victor faith, he took his mournful and unwitnessed way. 
 When he came to the middle of the hill that rises above those 
 gardens, the steel of the Spanish armor gleamed upon him, as 
 the detachment sent to occupy the palace marched over the 
 summit in steady order and profound silence. 
 
 At the head of this vanguard rode, upon a snow-white pal- 
 frey, the Bishop of Avila, followed by a long train of barefooted 
 monks. They halted as Boabdil approached, and the grave 
 Bishop saluted him with the air of one who addresses an infi- 
 del and an inferior. With the quick sense of dignity common to 
 the great, and yet more to the fallen, Boabdil felt, but resented 
 not, the pride of the ecclesiastic. " Go, Christian," said he 
 mildly, " the gates of the Alhambra are open, and Allah has 
 bestowed the palace and the city upon your king : may his 
 virtues atone the faults of Boabdil ! " So saying, and awaiting no 
 answer, he rode on, without looking to the right or left. The 
 Spaniards also pursued their way. The sun had fairly risen 
 above the mountains, when Boabdil and his train beheld, from 
 the eminence on which they were, the whole armament of 
 Spain ; and at the same moment, louder than the tramp of 
 horse, or the flash of arms, was heard distinctly the solemn 
 chant of Te Deum, which preceded the blaze of the unfurled, 
 and lofty standards. Boabdil, himself still silent, heard the
 
 148 LEILA. 
 
 groans and exclamations of his train ; he turned to cheer or 
 chide them, and then saw, from his own watch-tower, with the 
 sun shining full upon its pure and dazzling surface, the silver 
 cross of Spain. His Alhambra was already in the hands of the 
 foe ; while, beside that badge of the holy war, waved the gay 
 and flaunting flag of St. lago, the canonized Mars of the 
 chivalry of Spain. 
 
 At that sight, the King's voice died within him : he gave 
 the rein to his barb, impatient to close the fatal ceremonial, 
 and did not slacken his speed till almost within bow-shot of 
 the first ranks of the army. Never had Christian war assumed 
 a more splendid and imposing aspect. Far as the eye could 
 reach extended the glittering and gorgeous lines of that goodly 
 power, bristling with sunlit spears and blazoned banners ; 
 while beside, murmured, and glowed, and danced, the silver 
 and laughing Xenil, careless what lord should possess, for his 
 little day, the banks that bloomed by its everlasting course. 
 By a small mosque halted the flower of the army. Surrounded 
 by the archpriests of that mighty hierarchy, the peers and 
 princes of a court that rivalled the Rolands of Charlemagne, 
 was seen the kingly form of Ferdinand himself, with Isabel at 
 his right hand, and the high-born dames of Spain ; relieving 
 with their gay colors and sparkling gems the sterner splendor 
 of the crested helmet and polished mail. 
 
 Within sight of the royal group, Boabdil halted, composed 
 his aspect so as best to conceal his soul, and, a little in advance 
 of his scanty train, but never, in fnien and majesty, more a king, 
 the son of Abdallah met his haughty conquerer. 
 
 At the sight of his princely countenance and golden hair, 
 his comely and commanding beauty, made more touching by 
 youth, a thrill of compassionate admiration ran through that 
 assembly of the brave and fair. Ferdinand and Isabel slowly 
 advanced to meet their late rival their new subject ; and, as 
 Boabdil would have dismounted, the Spanish King placed his 
 hand upon his shoulder. " Brother and Prince," said he, 
 "forget thy sorrows ; and may our friendship hereafter console 
 thee for reverses, against which thou hast contended as a hero 
 and a king resisting man, but resigned at length to God ! " 
 
 Boabdil did not affect to return this bitter, but unintentional, 
 mockery of compliment. He bowed his head, and remained a 
 moment silent ; then motioning to his train, four of his officers 
 approached, and kneeling beside Fredinand, proffered to him, 
 upon a silver buckler, the keys of the city. 
 
 "OKing!" then said Boabdil, "accept the keys of the
 
 LEILA. 14$ 
 
 last hold which has resisted the arms of Spain ! The empire 
 of the Moslem is no more. Thine are the city and the people 
 Granada : yielding to thy prowess, they yet confide in thy 
 mercy." 
 
 " They do well," said the King ; " our promises shall not be 
 broken. But, since we know the gallantry of Moorish cavaliers, 
 not to us, but to gentler hands, shall the keys of Granada be 
 surrendered." 
 
 Thus saying, Ferdinand gave the keys to Isabel, who would 
 have addressed some soothing flatteries to Boabdil : but the 
 emotion and excitement were too much for her compassionate 
 heart, heroine and queen though she was ; and, when she lifted 
 her eyes upon the clam and pale features of the fallen monarch, 
 the tears gushed from them irresistibly, and her voice died in 
 murmurs. A faint flush overspread the features of Boabdil and 
 there was a momentary pause of embarrassment, which the 
 Moor was the first to break. 
 
 " Fair Queen," said he, with mournful and pathetic dignity, 
 " thou canst read the heart that thy generous sympathy touches 
 and subdues : this is thy last, nor least, glorious conquest. 
 But I detain ye : let not my aspect cloud your triumph. Suffer 
 me to say farewell." 
 
 " May we not hint at the blessed possibility of conversion ? " 
 whispered the pious Queen, through her tears, to her royal 
 consort. 
 
 " Not now not now, by Saint lago ! " returned Ferdinand 
 quickly, and, in the same tone, willing himself to conclude a 
 a painful conference. He then added aloud : " Go, my brother, 
 and fair fortune with you ! Forget the past." 
 
 Boabdil smiled bitterly, saluted the royal pair with profound 
 and silent reverence, and rode slowly on, leaving the army 
 below, as he ascended the path that led to his new principality 
 beyond the Alpuxarras. As the trees snatched the Moorish 
 cavalcade from the view of the King, Ferdinand ordered the 
 army to recommence its march ; and trumpet and cymbal 
 presently sent their music to the ear of the Moslems. 
 
 Boabdil spurred on at full speed, till his panting charger 
 halted at the little village where his mother, his slaves, and his 
 faithful Amine (sent on before) awaited him. Joining these, he 
 proceeded without delay upon his melancholy path. 
 
 They ascended that eminence which is the pass into the 
 Alpuxarras. From its height, the vale, the rivers, the spires, 
 the towers of Granada, broke gloriously upon the view of the 
 little band. They halted, mechanically and abruptly : every
 
 150 LEILA. 
 
 eye was turned to the beloved scene. The proud shame of 
 baffled warriors, the tender memories of home, of childhood, 
 of fatherland, swelled every heart, and gushed from every eye. 
 Suddenly, the distant boom of artillery broke from the citadel, 
 and rolled along the sunlit valley and crystal river. An 
 universal wail burst from the exiles ; it smote it overpowered 
 the heart of the ill-starred King, in vain seeking to wrap himself 
 in Eastern pride or stoical philosophy. The tears gushed from 
 his eyes, and he covered his face with his hands. 
 
 Then said his haughty mother, gazing at him with hard and 
 disdainful eyes, in that unjust and memorable reproach which 
 history has preserved : " Ay, weep like a woman, over what 
 thoucouldst not defend like a man ! " 
 
 Boabdil raised his countenance, with indignant majesty, 
 when he felt his hand tenderly clasped, and, turning round, saw 
 Amine by his side. 
 
 " Heed her not ! heed her not, Boabdil ! " said the slave ; 
 " never didst thou seem to me more noble than in that sorrow. 
 Thou wert a hero for thy throne ; but feel still, O light of mine 
 eyes, a woman for thy people ! " 
 
 " God is great ! " said Boabdil : " and God comforts me still ! 
 Thy lips, which never flattered me in my power, have no 
 reproach for me in my affliction ! " 
 
 He said, and smiled upon Amine it was her hour of trumph. 
 
 The band wound slowly on through the solitary defiles: and 
 that place where the King wept, and the woman soothed, is 
 still called " El ultimo suspiro del Moro," THE LAST SIGH 
 OF THE MOOR. 
 
 THE END.
 
 THE COMING RACE
 
 INSCRIBED 
 TO 
 
 MAX MULLER, 
 
 IN TRIBUTE OF RESPECT AND ADMIRATION,
 
 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I AM a native of , in the United States of America. My 
 
 ancestors migrated from England in the reign of Charles II. ; 
 and my grandfather was not undistinguished in the War of 
 Independence. My family, therefore, enjoyed a somewhat high 
 social position in right of birth; and being also opulent, they 
 were considered disqualified for the public service. My father 
 once ran for Congress, but was signally defeated by his tailor. 
 After that event he interfered little in politics, and lived much 
 in his library. I was the eldest of three sons, and sent at the 
 age of sixteen to the old country, partly to complete my liter- 
 ary education, partly to commence my commercial training in 
 a mercantile firm at Liverpool. My father died shortly after I 
 was twenty-one ; and being left well off, and having a taste for 
 travel and adventure, I resigned, for a time, all pursuit of the 
 almighty dollar, and became a desultory wanderer over the 
 face of the earth. 
 
 In the year 18 , happening to be in , I was invited by 
 
 a professional engineer, with whom I had made acquaintance, 
 
 to visit the recess of the mine, upon which he was 
 
 employed. 
 
 The reader will understand, ere he close this narrative, my 
 reason for concealing all clue to the district of which I write, 
 and will perhaps thank me for refraining from any description 
 that may tend to its discovery. 
 
 Let me say, then, as briefly as possible, that I accompanied 
 the engineer into the interior of the mine, and became so 
 strangely fascinated by its gloomy wonders, and so interested in 
 my friend's explorations, that I prolonged my stay in the neigh- 
 borhood, and descended daily, for some weeks, into the vaults 
 and galleries hollowed by nature and art beneath the surface of 
 the earth. The engineer was persuaded that far richer depos- 
 its of mineral wealth than had yet been detected, would be 
 found in a new shaft that had been commenced under his
 
 6 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 operations. In piercing this shaft we came one day upon a 
 chasm jagged and seemingly charred at the sides, as if burst 
 asunder at some distant period by volcanic fires. Down this 
 chasm my friend caused himself to be lowered in a "cage," 
 having first tested the atmosphere by the safety-lamp. He re- 
 mained nearly an hour in the abyss. When he returned he 
 was very pale, and with an anxious, thoughtful expression of 
 face, very different from its ordinary character, which was open, 
 cheerful, and fearless. 
 
 He said briefly that the descent appeared to him unsafe, and 
 leading to no result; and, suspending further operations in the 
 shaft, we returned to the more familiar parts of the mine. 
 
 All the rest of that day the engineer seemed preoccupied by 
 some absorbing thought. He was unusually taciturn, and there 
 was a scared, bewildered look in his eyes, as that of a man who 
 has seen a ghost. At night, as we two were sitting alone in 
 the lodging we shared together near the mouth of the mine, I 
 said to my friend: 
 
 "Tell me frankly what you saw in that chasm; I am sure it 
 was something strange and terrible. Whatever it be, it has 
 left your mind in a state of doubt. In such a case two heads 
 are better than one. Confide in me." 
 
 The engineer long endeavored to evade my inquiries ; but 
 as, while he spoke, he helped himself unconsciously out of the 
 brandy-flask to a degree to which he was wholly unaccustomed, 
 for he was a very temperate man, his reserve gradually melted 
 away. He who would keep himself to himself should imitate 
 the dumb animals, and drink water. At last he said: "I will 
 tell you all. When the cage stopped, I found myself on a 
 ridge of rock; and below me, the chasm, taking a slanting 
 direction, shot down to a considerable depth, the darkness of 
 which my lamp could not have penetrated. But through it, to 
 my infinite surprise, streamed upward a steady, brilliant light. 
 Could it be any volcanic fire; in that case, surely I should 
 have felt the heat. Still, if on this there was doubt, it was of 
 the utmost importance to our common safety to clear it up. I 
 examined the side of the descent, and found that I could ven- 
 ture to trust myself to the irregular projections or ledges, at 
 least for some way. I left the cage and clambered down. As 
 I drew near and nearer to the light, the chasm became wider 
 and wider, and at last I saw, to my unmistakable amaze, a 
 broad level road at the bottom of the abyss, illumined as far as 
 the eye could reach by what seemed artificial gas-lamps placed 
 at regular intervals, as in the thoroughfare of a great city ; and
 
 THE COMING RACE. 7 
 
 I heard confusedly at a distance a hum as of human voices. I 
 know, of course, that no rival miners are at work, in this dis- 
 trict. Whose could be those voices? What human hands 
 could have levelled that road and marshalled those lamps? 
 
 "The superstitious belief, common to miners, that gnomes 
 or fiends dwell within the bowels of the earth, began to seize 
 me. I shuddered at the thought of descending further and 
 braving the inhabitants of this nether valley. Nor indeed 
 could I have done so without ropes, as from the spot I had 
 reached to the bottom of the chasm the sides of the rock sank 
 down abrupt, smooth, and sheer. I retraced my steps with 
 some difficulty. Now I have told you all." 
 
 "You will descend, again?" 
 
 "I ought, yet I feel as if I durst not." 
 
 "A trusty companion halves the journey and doubles the 
 courage. I will go with you. We will provide ourselves with 
 ropes of suitable length and strength and pardon me you 
 must not drink more to-night. Our hands and feet must be 
 steady and firm to-morrow." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WITH the morning my friend's nerves were rebraced, and he 
 was not less excited by curiosity than myself. Perhaps more ; 
 for he evidently believed in his own story, and I felt consider- 
 able doubt of it ; not that he would have wilfully told an un- 
 truth, but that I thought he must have been under one of the 
 hallucinations which seize on our fancy or our nerves in soli- 
 tary, unaccustomed places, and in which we give shape to the 
 formless and sound to the dumb. 
 
 We selected six veteran miners to watch our descent ; and as 
 the cage held only one at a time, the engineer descended first; 
 and when he had gained the ledge at which he had before 
 halted, the cage re-arose for me. I soon gained his side. We 
 had provided ourselves with a strong coil of rope. 
 
 The light struck on my sight as it had done the day before 
 on my friend's. The hollow through which it came sloped 
 diagonally: it seemed to me a diffused atmospheric light, not 
 like that from fire, but soft and silvery, as from a northern star. 
 Quitting the cage, we descended, one after the other, easily 
 enough, owing to the juts in the side, till we reached the place 
 at which my friend had previously halted, and which was a 
 projection just spacious enough to allow us to stand abreast. 
 From this spot the chasm widened rapidly like the lower end
 
 % THE COMING RACE. 
 
 of a vast funnel, and I saw distinctly the valley, the road, the 
 lamps which my companion had described. He had exagger- 
 ated nothing. I heard the sounds he had heard a mingled 
 indescribable hum as of voices and a dull tramp as of feet. 
 Straining my eyes farther down, I clearly beheld at a distance 
 the outline of some large building. It could not be mere nat- 
 ural rock, it was too symmetrical, with huge, heavy, Egyptian- 
 like columns, and the whole lighted as from within. I had about 
 me a small pocket-telescope, and by the aid of this I could dis- 
 tinguish, near the building I mention, two forms which seemed 
 human, though I could not be sure. At least they were living, 
 for they moved, and both vanished within the building. We 
 now proceeded to attach the end of the rope we had brought 
 with us to the ledge on which we stood, by the aid of clamps 
 and grappling-hooks, with which, as well as with necessary 
 tools, we were provided. 
 
 We were almost silent in our work. We toiled like men 
 afraid to speak to each other. One end of the rope being thus 
 apparently made firm to the ledge, the other, to which we fas- 
 tened a fragment of the rock, rested on the ground below, a 
 distance of some fifty feet. I was a younger and a more active 
 man than my companion, and having served on board ship in 
 my boyhood, this mode of transit was more familiar to me than 
 to him. In a whisper I claimed the precedence, so that when 
 I gained the ground I might serve to hold the rope more steady 
 for his descent. I got safely to the ground beneath, and the 
 engineer now began to lower himself. But he had scarcely 
 accomplished ten feet of the descent, when the fastenings, 
 which we had fancied so secure, gave way, or rather the rock 
 itself proved treacherous and crumbled beneath the strain; and 
 the unhappy man was precipitated to the bottom, falling just 
 at my feet, and bringing down with his fall splinters of the rock, 
 one of which, fortunately but a small one, struck and for the 
 time stunned me. When I recovered my senses I saw my 
 companion an inanimate man beside me, life utterly extinct. 
 While I was bending over his corpse in grief and horror, I 
 heard close at hand a strange sound between a snort and a 
 hiss ; and turning instinctively to the quarter from which it 
 came, I saw emerging from a dark fissure in the rock a vast 
 and terrible head, with open jaws and dull, ghastly, hungry 
 eyes the head of a monstrous reptile resembling that of the 
 crocodile or alligator, but infinitely larger than the largest 
 creature of that kind I had ever beheld in my travels. I 
 Started to my feet and fled down the valley at my utmost
 
 THE COMING RACE. 9 
 
 speed. I stopped at last, ashamed of my panic and my flight, 
 and returned to the spot on which I had left the body of my 
 friend. It was gone; doubtless the monster had already drawn 
 it into its den and devoured it. The rope and the grappling- 
 hooks still lay where they had fallen, but they afforded me no 
 chance of return ; it was impossible to re-attach them to the 
 rock above, and the sides of the rock were too sheer and 
 smooth for human steps to clamber. I was alone in this 
 strange world, amidst the bowels of the earth. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SLOWLY and cautiously I went my solitary way down the 
 lamplit road and towards the large building I have described. 
 The road itself seemed like a great Alpine pass, skirting rocky 
 mountains of which the one through whose chasms I had 
 descended formed a link. Deep below to the left lay a vast 
 valley, which presented to my astonished eye the unmistak- 
 able evidences of art and culture. There were fields covered 
 with a strange vegetation, similar to none I have seen above 
 the earth; the color of it not green, but rather of a dull leaden 
 hue or of a golden red. 
 
 There were lakes and rivulets which seemed to have been 
 curved into artificial banks; some of pure water, others that 
 shone like pools of naphtha. At my right hand, ravines and 
 defiles opened amidst the rocks, with passes between, evidently 
 constructed by art, and bordered by trees resembling, for the 
 most part, gigantic ferns, with exquisite varieties of feathery 
 foliage, and stems like those of the palm-tree. Others were 
 more like the cane-plant, but taller, bearing large clusters of 
 flowers. Others, again, had the form of enormous fungi, with 
 short, thick stems supporting a wide dome-like roof, from which 
 either rose or dropped long slender branches. The whole 
 scene behind, before, and beside me, far as the eye could 
 reach, was brilliant with innumerable lamps. The world with- 
 out a sun was bright and warm as an Italian landscape at noon, 
 but the air was less oppressive, the heat softer. Nor was the 
 scene before me void of signs of habitation. I could distin- 
 guish at a distance, whether on the banks of lake or rivulet, or 
 half-way upon eminences, embedded amidst the vegetation, 
 buildings that must surely be the homes of men. I could even 
 discover, though far off, forms that appeared to me human, 
 moving amidst the landscape. As I paused to gaze, I saw to 
 the right, gliding quickly through the air, what appeared a
 
 10 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 small boat, impelled by sails shaped like wings. It soon passed 
 out of sight, descending amidst the shades of a forest. Right 
 above me there was no sky, but only a cavernous roof. This 
 roof grew higher and higher at the distance of the landscapes 
 beyond, till it became imperceptible, as an atmosphere of haze 
 formed itself beneath. 
 
 Continuing my walk, I started from a bush that resembled 
 a great tangle of seaweeds, interspersed with fern-like shrubs 
 and plants of large leafage shaped like that of the aloe or 
 prickly pear a curious animal about the size and shape of a 
 deer. But as, after bounding away a few paces, it turned 
 round and gazed at me inquisitively, I perceived that it was 
 not like any species of deer now extant above the earth, but it 
 brought instantly to my recollection a plaster cast I had seen 
 in some museum of a variety of the elk stag, said to have ex- 
 isted before the Deluge. The creature seemed tame enough, 
 and, after inspecting me a moment or two, began to graze on 
 the singular herbage around undismayed and careless. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I NOW came in full sight of the building. Yes, it had been 
 made by hands, and hollowed partly out of a great rock. I 
 should have supposed it at the first glance to have been of the 
 earliest form of Egyptian architecture. It was fronted by 
 huge columns, tapering upward from massive plinths, and with 
 capitals that, as I came nearer, I perceived to be more orna- 
 mental and more fantastically graceful than Egyptian archi- 
 tecture allows. As the Corinthian capital mimics the leaf of 
 the acanthus, so the capitals of these columns imitated the 
 foliage of the vegetation neighboring them, some aloe-like, 
 some fern-like. And now there came out of this building a 
 form human was it human? It stood on the broad way and 
 looked around, beheld me and approached. It came within a 
 few yards of me, and at the sight and presence of it an inde- 
 scribable awe and tremor seized me, rooting my feet to the 
 ground. It reminded me of symbolical images of Genius or 
 Demon that are seen on Etruscan vases or limned on the walls 
 of Eastern sepulchres images that borrow the outlines of man, 
 and yet of another race. It was tall, not gigantic, but tall as 
 the tallest men below the height of giants. 
 
 Its chief covering seemed to me to be composed of large 
 wings folded over its breast and reaching to its knees ; the 
 rest of its attire was composed of an under tunic and leggings
 
 THE COMING kACE. II 
 
 of some thin fibrous material. It wore on its head a kind of 
 tiara that shone with jewels, and carried in its right hand a 
 slender staff of bright metal like polished steel. But the face! 
 it was that which inspired my awe and terror. It was the lace 
 of man, but yet of a type of man distinct from our own extant 
 races The nearest approach to it in outline and expression is 
 the face of the sculptured sphinx so regular in its calm, intel- 
 lectual, mysterious beauty. Its color was peculiar, more like 
 that of the red man than any other variety of our species, and 
 yet different from it a richer and a softer hue, with large 
 black eyes, deep and brilliant, and brows arched as a semi- 
 circle. The face was beardless ; but a nameless something in the 
 aspect, tranquil though the expression, and beauteous though 
 the features, roused that instinct of danger which the sight of 
 a tiger or serpent arouses. I felt that this manlike image was 
 endowed with forces inimical to man. As it drew near, a cold 
 shudder came over me. I fell on my knees and covered my 
 face with my hands. 
 
 *s 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A VOICE accosted me a very quiet and very musical key of 
 voice in a language of which I could not understand a word, 
 but it seemed to dispel my fear. I uncovered my face and 
 looked up. The stranger (I could scarcely bring myself to 
 call him man) surveyed me with an eye that seemed to read to 
 the very depths of my heart. He then placed his left hand on 
 my forehead, and with the staff in his right gently touched my 
 shoulder. The effect of this double contact was magical. In 
 place of my former terror there passed into me a sense of con- 
 tentment, of joy, of confidence in myself and in the being be- 
 fore me. I rose and spoke in my own language. He listened 
 to me with apparent attention, but with a slight surprise in his 
 looks ; and shook his head, as if to signify that I was not un- 
 derstood. He then took me by the hand and led me in silence 
 to the building. The entrance was open indeed there was no 
 door to it. We entered an immense hall, lighted by the same 
 kind of lustre as in the scene without, but diffusing a fragrant 
 odor. The floor was in large tesselated blocks of precious 
 metals, and partly covered with a sort of matlike carpeting. A 
 strain of low music, above and around, undulated as if from 
 invisible instruments, seeming to belong naturally to the place, 
 just as the sound of murmuring waters belongs to a rocky land- 
 scape, or the warble of birds to vernal groves.
 
 12 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 A figure, in a simpler garb than that of my guide, but of 
 similar fashion, was standing motionless near the threshold. 
 My guide touched it twice with his staff, and it put itself into 
 a rapid and gliding movement, skimming noiselessly over the 
 floor. Gazing on it, I then saw that it was no living form, but 
 a mechanical automaton. It might be two minutes after it 
 vanished through a doorless opening, half screened by curtains 
 at the other end of the hall, when through the same opening 
 advanced a boy of about twelve years old, with features closely 
 resembling those of my guide, so that they seemed to me evi- 
 dently son and father. On seeing me the child uttered a cry, 
 and lifted a staff like that borne by my guide, as if in menace. 
 At a word from the elder he dropped it. The two then con- 
 versed for some moments, examining me while they spoke. 
 The child touched my garments, and stroked my face with evi- 
 dent curiosity, uttering a sound like a laugh, but with an hilar- 
 ity more subdued than the mirth of our laughter. Presently 
 the roof of the hall opened, and a platform descended, seem- 
 ingly constructed on the same principle as the "lifts" used in 
 hotels and warehouses for mounting from one story to another. 
 
 The stranger placed himself and the child on the platform, 
 and motioned to me to do the same, which I did. We as- 
 cended quickly and safely, and alighted in the midst of a cor- 
 ridor with doorways on either side. 
 
 Through one of these doorways I was conducted into a 
 chamber fitted up with an Oriental splendor; the walls were 
 tesselated with spars, and metals, and uncut jewels; cushions 
 and divans abounded ; apertures as for windows, but unglazed, 
 were made in the chamber, opening to the floor; and as I 
 passed along I observed that these openings led into spacious 
 balconies, and commanded views of the illumined landscape 
 without. In cages suspended from the ceiling there were birds 
 of strange form and bright plumage, which at our entrance set 
 up a chorus of song, modulated into tune as is that of our pip- 
 ing bullfinches. A delicious fragrance, from censers of gold 
 elaborately sculptured, filled the air. Several automata, like 
 the one I had seen, stood numb and motionless by the walls. 
 The stranger placed me beside him on a divan, and again spoke 
 to me, and again I spoke, but without the least advance 
 towards understanding each other. 
 
 But now I began to feel the effect of the blow I received 
 from the splinters of the falling rock more acutely than I had 
 done at first. 
 
 There came over me a sense of sickly faintness, accompanied
 
 THE COMING RACE. 1$ 
 
 with acute, lancinating pains in the head and neck. I sank 
 back on the seat, and strove in vain to stifle a groan. On this 
 the child, who had hitherto seemed to eye me with distrust or 
 dislike, knelt by my side to support me; taking one of my 
 hands in both his own, he approached his lips to my forehead, 
 breathing on it softly. In a few moments my pain ceased; a 
 drowsy, happy calm crept over me ; I fell asleep. 
 
 How long I remained in this state I know not, but when I 
 woke I felt perfectly restored. My eyes opened upon a group 
 of silent forms, seated around me in the gravity and quietude 
 of Orientals all more or less like the first stranger; the same 
 mantling wings, the same fashion of garment, the same sphinx- 
 like faces, with the deep, dark eyes and red man's color; 
 above all, the same type of race race akin to man's, but infin- 
 itely stronger of form and grander of aspect, and inspiring the 
 same unutterable feeling of dread. Yet each countenance was 
 mild and tranquil, and even kindly in its expression. And 
 strangely enough, it seemed to me that in this very calm and 
 benignity consisted of the dread which the countenances in- 
 spired. They seemed as void of the lines and shadows which 
 care and sorrow, and passion and sin, leave upon the faces of 
 men, as are the faces of sculptured gods, or as, in the eyes of 
 Christian mourners, seem the peaceful brows of the dead. 
 
 I felt a warm hand on my shoulder ; it was the child's. In 
 his eyes there was a sort of lofty pity and tenderness, such as 
 that with which we may gaze on some suffering bird or butter- 
 fly. I shrank from that touch I shrank from that eye. I was 
 vaguely impressed with a belief that, had he pleased, that 
 child could have killed me as easily as a man can kill a bird or 
 a butterfly. The child seemed pained at my repugnance, 
 quitted me and placed himself beside one of the windows. 
 The others continued to converse with each other in a low tone, 
 and by their glances towards me I could perceive that I was the 
 object of their conversation. One in especial seemed to be 
 urging some proposal affecting me on the being whom I had 
 first met, and this last by his gesture seemed about to assent to 
 it, when the child suddenly quitted his post by the window, 
 placed himself between me and the other forms, as if in pro- 
 tection, and spoke quickly and eagerly. By some intuition or 
 instinct I felt that the child I had before so dreaded was 
 pleading in my behalf. Ere he had ceased another stranger 
 entered the room. He appeared older than the rest, though 
 not old; his countenance, less smoothly serene than theirs, 
 though equally regular in its features, seemed to me to have
 
 i4 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 more the touch of a humanity akin to my own. He listened 
 quietly to the words addressed to him, first by my guide, next 
 by two others of the group, and lastly by the child; then 
 turned towards myself, and addressed me, not by words, but by 
 signs and gestures. These I fancied I perfectly understood, 
 and I was not mistaken. I comprehended that he inquired 
 whence I came. I extended my arm and pointed towards the 
 road which had led me from the chasm in the rock ; then an 
 idea seized me. I drew forth my pocket-book and sketched 
 on one of its blank leaves a rough design of the ledge of the 
 rock, the rope, myself clinging to it; then of the cavernous 
 rock below, the head of the reptile, the lifeless form of my 
 friend. I gave this primitive kind of hieroglyph to my inter- 
 rogator, who, after inspecting it gravely, handed it to his next 
 neighbor, and it thus passed round the group. The being I 
 had at first encountered then said a few words, and the child, 
 who approached and looked at my drawing, nodded as if he 
 comprehended its purport, and returning to the window, ex- 
 panded the wings attached to his form, shook them once or 
 twice, and then launched himself into space without. I 
 started up in amaze and hastened to the window. The child 
 was already in the air, buoyed on his wings, which he did not 
 flap to and fro as a bird does, but which were elevated over 
 his head, and seemed to bear him steadily aloft without effort of 
 his own. His flight seemed as swift as any eagle's; and I ob- 
 served that it was towards the rock whence I had descended, of 
 which the outline loomed visible in the brilliant atmosphere. In a 
 very few minutes he returned, skimming through the opening 
 from which he had gone, and dropping on the floor the rope 
 and grappling hooks I had left at the descent from the chasm. 
 Some words in a low tone passed between the beings present; 
 one of the group touched an automaton, which started forward 
 and glided from the room ; then the last comer, who had ad- 
 dressed me by gestures, rose, took me by the hand, and led me 
 into the corridor. There the platform by which I had mounted 
 awaited us ; we placed ourselves on it and were lowered into 
 the hall below. My new companion, still holding me by the 
 hand, conducted me from the building into a street (so to 
 speak) that stretched beyond it, with buildings on either side ; 
 separated from each other by gardens bright with rich-colored 
 vegetation and strange flowers. Interspersed amidst these 
 gardens, which were divided from each other by low walls, or 
 walking slowly along the road, were many forms similar to 
 those I had already seen. Some of the passers-by, on observ-
 
 THE COMING RACE. 15 
 
 ing me, approached my guide, evidently by their tones, looks 
 and gestures addressing to him inquiries about myself. In a 
 few moments a crowd collected round us, examining me with 
 great interest as if I were some rare wild animal. Yet even in 
 gratifying their curiosity they preserved a grave and courteous 
 demeanor; and after a few words from my guide, who seemed 
 to me to deprecate obstruction in our road, they fell back with 
 a stately inclination of head, and resumed their own way with 
 tranquil indifference. Midway in this thoroughfare we stopped 
 at a building that differed from those we had hithero passed, 
 inasmuch as it formed three sides of a vast court, at the angles 
 of which were lofty pyramidal towers ; in the open space be- 
 tween the sides was a circular fountain of colossal dimensions, 
 and throwing up a dazzling spray of what seemed to me fire. 
 We entered the building through an open doorway and came 
 into an enormous hall, in which were several groups of chil- 
 dren, all apparently employed in work as at some great factory. 
 There was a huge engine in the wall which was in full play, 
 with wheels and cylinders, and resembling our own steam- 
 engines, except that it was richly ornamented with precious 
 stones and metals, and appeared to emit a pale phosphorescent 
 atmosphere of shifting light. Many of the children were at 
 some mysterious work on this machinery, others were seated 
 before tables. I was not allowed to linger long enough to ex- 
 amine into the nature of their employment. Not one young 
 voice was heard not one young face turned to gaze on us. 
 They were all still and indifferent as may be ghosts, through 
 the midst of which pass unnoticed the forms of the living. 
 
 Quitting this hall, my guide led me through a gallery richly 
 painted in compartments, with a barbaric mixture of gold in 
 the colors, like pictures by Louis Cranach. The subjects de- 
 scribed on these walls appeared to my glance as intended to 
 illustrate events in the history of the race amidst which I was 
 admitted. In all there were figures, most of them like the 
 man-like creatures I had seen, but not all in the same fashion 
 of garb, nor all with wings. There were also the effigies of 
 various animals and birds wholly strange to me, with back- 
 grounds depicting landscapes or buildings. So far as 'my im- 
 perfect knowledge of the pictorial art would allow me to form 
 an opinion, these paintings seemed very accurate in design and 
 very rich in coloring, showing a perfect knowledge of perspec- 
 tive, but their details not arranged according to the rules of 
 composition acknowledged by our artists wanting, as it were, 
 in centre ; so that the effect was vague, scattered, confused,
 
 l6 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 bewildering; they were like heterogeneous fragments of a 
 dream of art. 
 
 We now came into a room of moderate size, in which was 
 assembled what I afterwards knew to be the family of my 
 guide, seated at a table spread as for our repast. The forms 
 thus grouped were those of my guide's wife, his daughter, and 
 two sons. I recognized at once the difference between the 
 two sexes, though the two females were of taller stature and 
 ampler proportions than the males; and their countenances, if 
 still more symmetrical in outline and contour, were devoid of 
 the softness and timidity of expression which give charm to the 
 face of woman as seen on the earth above. The wife wore no 
 wings, the daughter wore wings longer than those of the males. 
 
 My guide uttered a few words, on which all the persons 
 seated rose, and with that peculiar mildness of look and man- 
 ner which I have before noticed, and which is, in truth, the 
 common attribute of this formidable race, they saluted me 
 according to their fashion, which consists in laying the right 
 hand very gently on the head and uttering a soft sibilant mono- 
 syllable S.Si, equivalent to "Welcome." 
 
 The mistress of the house then seated me beside her, and 
 heaped a golden platter before me from one of the dishes. 
 
 While I ate (and though the viands were new to me, I mar- 
 velled more at the delicacy than the strangeness of their flavor), 
 my companions conversed quietly, and, so far as I could de- 
 tect, with polite avoidance of any direct reference to myself, or 
 any obtrusive scrutiny of my appearance. Yet I was the first 
 creature of that variety of the human race to which I belong 
 that they had ever beheld, and was consequently regarded by 
 them as a most curious and abnormal phenomenon. But all 
 rudeness is unknown to this people, and the youngest child is 
 taught to despise any vehement emotional demonstration. 
 When the meal was ended, my guide again took me by the 
 hand, and, re-entering the gallery, touched a metallic plate in- 
 scribed with strange figures, and which I rightly conjectured to 
 be of the nature of our telegraphs. A platform descended, 
 but this time we mounted to a much greater height than in the 
 former building, and found ourselves in a room of moderate 
 dimensions, and which in its general character had much that 
 might be familiar to the associations of a visitor from the upper 
 world. There were shelves on the wall containing what ap- 
 peared to be books, and indeed were so; mostly very small, 
 like our diamond duodecimos, shaped in the fashion of our 
 volumes, and bound in fine sheets of metal. There were sev-
 
 THE COMING RACE. VJ 
 
 eral curious-looking pieces of mechanism scattered about, ap- 
 parently models, such as might be seen in the study of any 
 professional mechanician. Four automata (mechanical con- 
 trivances which, with these people, answer the ordinary pur- 
 poses of domestic service) stood phantom-like at each angle in 
 the wall. In a recess was a low couch, or bed with pillows. 
 A window, with curtains of some fibrous material drawn aside, 
 opened upon a large balcony. My host stepped out into the 
 balcony ; I followed him. We were on the uppermost story of 
 one of the angular pyramids; the view beyond was of a wild 
 and solemn beauty impossible to describe the vast ranges of 
 precipitous rock which formed the distant background, the 
 intermediate valleys of mystic many-colored herbage, the flash 
 of waters, many of them like streams of roseate flame, the se- 
 rene lustre diffused over all by myriads of lamps, combined 
 to form a whole of which no words of mine can convey ade- 
 quate description, so splendid was it, yet so sombre; so lovely, 
 yet so awful. 
 
 But my attention was soon diverted from these nether land- 
 scapes. Suddenly there arose, as from the streets below, a 
 burst of joyous music ; then a winged form soared into the 
 space ; another, as in chase of the first, another and another ; 
 others after others, till the crowd grew thick and the number 
 countless. But how describe the fantastic grace of these forms 
 in their undulating movements! They appeared engaged in 
 some sport or amusement; now forming into opposite squad- 
 rons; now scattering; now each group threading the other, 
 soaring, descending, interweaving, severing; all in measured 
 time to the music below, as if in the dance of the fabled Peri. 
 
 I turned my gaze on my host in a feverish wonder. I ven- 
 tured to place my hand on the large wings that lay folded on 
 his breast, and in doing so a slight shock as of electricity passed 
 through me. I recoiled in fear; my host smiled, and, as if 
 courteously to gratify my curiosity, slowly expanded his pin- 
 ions. I observed that his garment beneath them became di- 
 lated as a bladder that fills with air. The arms seemed to slide 
 into the wings, and in another moment he had launched himself 
 into the luminous atmosphere, and hovered there, still, and 
 Avith outspread wings, as an eagle that basks in the sun. Then, 
 rapidly as an eagle swoops, he rushed downwards into the 
 midst of one of the groups, skimming through the midst, and 
 as suddenly again soaring aloft. Thereon, three forms, in none 
 of which I thought to recognize my host's daughter, detached 
 themselves from the rest, and followed him as a bird sportively
 
 l8 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 follows a bird. My eyes, dazzled with the lights and bewil- 
 dered by the throngs, ceased to distinguish the gyration and 
 evolutions of these winged playmates, till presently my host 
 re-emerged from the crowd and alighted at my side. 
 
 The strangeness of all 1 had seen began now to operate fast 
 on my senses; my mind itself began to wander. Though not 
 inclined to be superstitious, nor hitherto believing that man 
 could be brought into bodily communication with demons, I 
 felt the terror and the wild excitement with which, in the 
 Gothic ages, a traveller might have persuaded himself that he 
 witnessed a sabbat of fiends and witches. I have a vague rec- 
 ollection of having attempted with vehement gesticulation, and 
 forms of exorcism, and loud incoherent words, to repel my 
 courteous and indulgent host; of his mild endeavors to calm 
 and soothe me; of his intelligent conjecture that my fright and 
 bewilderment were occasioned by the difference of form and 
 movement between us which the wings that had excited my 
 marvelling curiosity had, in exercise, made still more strongly 
 perceptible ; of the gentle smile with which he had sought to 
 dispel my alarm by dropping the wings to the ground, and en- 
 deavoring to show me that they were but a mechanical con- 
 trivance. That sudden transformation did but increase my 
 horror; and as extreme fright often shows itself by extreme 
 daring, I sprang at his throat like a wild beast. On an instant 
 I was felled to the ground as by an electric shock; and the 
 last confused images floating before my sight ere I became 
 wholly insensible, were the form of my host kneeling beside me 
 with one hand on my forehead, and the beautiful calm face of 
 his daughter, with large, deep, inscrutable eyes intently fixed 
 upon my own. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I REMAINED in this unconscious state, as I afterwards 
 learned, for many days, even for some weeks, according to our 
 computation of time. When I recovered I was in a strange 
 room, my host and all his family were gathered round me, and 
 to my utter amaze my host's daughter accosted me in my own 
 language with but a slightly foreign accent. 
 
 "How do you feel?" she asked. 
 
 It was some moments before I could overcome my surprise 
 enough to falter out: "You know my language? How? Who 
 and what are you?" 
 
 My host smiled and motioned to one of his sons, who then
 
 THE COMING RACE. 19 
 
 tooc irom a table a number of thin metallic sheets on which 
 were traced drawings of various figures a house, a tree, a 
 bird, a man, etc. In these designs I recognized my own style 
 of drawing. Under each figure was written the name of it in 
 my language, and in my writing; and in another handwriting a 
 word strange to me beneath it. 
 
 Said the host: "Thus we began; and my daughter Zee, who 
 belongs to the College of Sages, has been your instructress and 
 ours too." 
 
 Zee then placed before me other metallic sheets, on which, 
 in my writing, words first, and then sentences, were inscribed. 
 Under each word and each sentence strange characters in 
 another hand. Rallying my senses, I comprehended that thus 
 a rude dictionary had been effected. Had it been done while 
 I was dreaming? "That is enough now," said Zee, in a tone 
 of command. "Repose and take food." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A ROOM to myself was assigned to me in this vast edifice. It 
 was prettily and fantastically arranged, but without any of the 
 splendor of metal work or gems which was displayed in the 
 more public apartments. The walls were hung with a variega- 
 ted matting made from the stalks and fibres of plants, and the 
 floor carpeted with the same. 
 
 The bed was without curtains, its supports of iron resting on 
 balls of crystal ; the coverings, of a thin white substance re- 
 sembling cotton. There were sundry shelves containing books. 
 A curtained recess communicated with an aviary filled with 
 singing-birds, of which I did not recognize one resembling those 
 I have seen on earth, except a beautiful species of dove, 
 though this was distinguished from our doves by a tall crest of 
 bluish plumes. All these birds had been trained to sing in art- 
 ful tunes, and greatly exceeded the skill of our piping bull- 
 finches, which can rarely achieve more than two tunes, and 
 cannot, I believe, sing those in concert. One might have sup- 
 posed one's-self at an opera in listening to the voices in my 
 aviary. There were duets and trios, and quartettes and chor- 
 uses, all arranged as in one piece of music. Did I want to 
 silence the birds? I had but to draw a curtain over the aviary, 
 and their song hushed as they found themselves in the dark. 
 Another opening formed a window, not glazed, but on touch- 
 ing a spring, a shutter ascended from the floor, formed of some 
 substance less transparent than glass, but still sufficiently pellu-
 
 20 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 cid to allow a softened view of the scene without. To this 
 window was attached a balcony, or rather hanging-garden, 
 wherein grew many graceful plants and brilliant flowers. The 
 apartment and its appurtenances had thus a character, if strange 
 in detail, still familiar, as a whole, to modern notions of lux- 
 ury, and would have excited admiration if found attached to 
 the apartment of an English duchess or a fashionable French 
 author. Before I arrived this was Zee's chamber; she had 
 hospitably assigned it to me. 
 
 Some hours after the waking up which is described in my 
 last chapter, I was lying alone on my couch trying to fix my 
 thoughts on conjecture as to the nature and genus of the peo- 
 ple amongst whom I was thrown, when my host and his daugh- 
 ter Zee entered the room. My host, still speaking my native 
 tongue, inquired, with much politeness, whether it would be 
 agreeable to me to converse, or if I preferred solitude. I re- 
 plied, that I should feel much honored and obliged by the 
 opportunity offered me to express my gratitude for the hospi- 
 tality and civilities I had received in a country to which I was 
 a stranger, and to learn enough of its customs and manners not 
 to offend through ignorance. 
 
 As I spoke, I had of course risen from my couch ; but Zee, 
 much to my confusion, curtly ordered me to lie down again, 
 and there was something in her voice and eye, gentle as both 
 were, that compelled my obedience. She then seated herself 
 unconcernedly at the foot of my bed, while her father took his 
 place on a divan a few feet distant. 
 
 "But what part of the world do you come from," asked my 
 host, "that we should appear so strange to you, and you to us? 
 I have seen individual specimens of nearly all the races differ- 
 ing from our own, except the primeval savages who dwell in 
 the most desolate and remote recesses of uncultivated nature, 
 unacquainted with other light than that they obtain from vol- 
 canic fires, and contented to grope their way in the dark, as 
 do many creeping, crawling, and even flying things. But cer- 
 tainly you cannot be a member of those barbarous tribes, nor, 
 on the other hand, do you seem to belong to any civilized 
 people." 
 
 I was somewhat nettled at this last observation, and replied 
 that I had the honor to belong to one of the most civilized 
 nations of the earth ; and that as far as light was concerned, 
 while I admired the ingenuity and disregard of expense with 
 which my host and his fellow-citizens had contrived to illum- 
 ine the regions unpenetrated by the rays of the sun, yet I could
 
 THE COMING RACE. it 
 
 not conceive how any who had once beheld the orbs of heaven 
 could compare to their lustre the artificial lights invented by 
 the necessities of man. But my host said he had seen speci- 
 mens of most of the races differing from his own, save the 
 wretched barbarians he had mentioned. Now, was it possible 
 that he had never been on the surface of the earth, or could 
 he only be referring to communities buried within its entrails? 
 
 My host was for some moments silent ; his countenance 
 showed a degree of surprise which the people of that race very 
 rarely manifest under any circumstances, howsoever extraordi- 
 nary. But Zee was more intelligent, and exclaimed: "So, you 
 see, my father, that there is truth in the old tradition; there 
 always is truth in every tradition commonly believed in all 
 times and by all tribes." 
 
 "Zee," said my host mildly, "you belong to the College of 
 Sages, and ought to be wiser than I am ; but, as chief of the 
 Light-preserving Council, it is my duty to take nothing for 
 granted till it is proved to the evidence of my own senses." 
 Then, turning to me, he asked me several questions about the 
 surface of the earth and the heavenly bodies ; upon which, 
 though I answered him to the best of my knowledge, my an- 
 swers seemed not to satisfy nor convince him. He shook his 
 head quietly, and changing the subject rather abruptly, asked 
 how I had come down from what he was pleased to call one 
 world to the other. I answered, that under the surface of the 
 earth there were mines containing minerals, or metals, essential 
 to our wants and our progress in all arts and industries: and I 
 then briefly explained the manner in which, while exploring 
 one of these mines, I and my ill-fated friend had obtained a 
 glimpse of the regions into which we had descended, and how 
 the descent had cost him his life; appealing to the rope and 
 grappling-hooks that the child had brought to the house in 
 which I had been at first received, as a witness of the truthful- 
 ness of my story. ^_ 
 
 My host then proceeded to question me as to the habits and \ 
 modes of life among the races on the upper earth, more espe- 
 cially among those considered to be the most advanced in that 
 civilization which he was pleased to define "the art of diffu- 
 sion throughout a community the tranquil happiness which be- 
 longs to a virtuous and well-ordered household." Naturally 
 desiring to represent in the most favorable colors the world 
 from which I came, I touched but slightly, though indulgently, 
 on the antiquated and decaying institutions of Europe, in order 
 to expatiate on the present grandeur and prospective pre-
 
 21 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 eminence of that glorious American Republic, in which Europe 
 enviously seeks its model and tremblingly foresees its doom. 
 Selecting for an example of the social life of the United States 
 that city in which progress advances at the fastest rate, I in- 
 dulged in an animated description of the moral habits of New- 
 York. Mortified to see, by the faces of my listeners, that I 
 did not make the favorable impression I had anticipated, I 
 elevated my theme ; dwelling on the excellence of democratic 
 institutions, their promotion of tranquil happiness by the gov- 
 ernment of party, and the mode in which they diffused such 
 happiness throughout the community by preferring, for the 
 exercise of power and the acquisition of honors, the lowliest 
 citizens in point of property, education, and character. For- 
 tunately recollecting the peroration of a speech, on the purify- 
 ing influences of American democracy and their destined spread 
 over the world, made by a certain eloquent senator (for whose 
 vote in the Senate a Railway Company, to which my two broth- 
 ers belonged, had just paid $20,000), I wound up by repeating 
 its glowing predictions of the magnificent future that smiled 
 upon mankind when the flag of freedom should float over the 
 entire continent, and two hundred millions of intelligent citi- 
 zens, accustomed from infancy to the daily use of revolvers, 
 should apply to a cowering universe the doctrine of the Patriot 
 Monroe. 
 
 When I had concluded, my host gently shook his head, and 
 fell into a musing study, making a sign to me and his daughter 
 to remain silent while he reflected. And after a time he said, 
 in a very earnest and solemn tone: "If you think, as you say, 
 that you, though a stranger, have received kindness at the 
 hands of me and mine, I adjure you to reveal nothing to any 
 other of our people respecting the world from which you came, 
 unless, on consideration, I give you permission to do so. Do 
 you consent to this request?" 
 
 "Of course I pledge my word to it," said I, somewhat 
 amazed ; and I extended my right hand to grasp his. But he 
 placed my hand gently on his forehead and his own right hand 
 on my breast, which is the custom among this race in all mat- 
 ters of promise or verbal obligations. Then, turning to his 
 daughter, he said: "And you, Zee, will not repeat to any one 
 what the stranger has said, or may say, to me or to you, of a 
 world other than our own." Zee rose and kissed her father on 
 the temples, saying, with a smile: "A Gy's tongue is wanton, 
 but love can fetter it fast. And if, my father, you fear lest a 
 chance word from me or yourself could expose our community
 
 THE COMING RACE. 33 
 
 to danger, by a desire to explore a world beyond us, will not a 
 wave of the vril, properly impelled, wash even the memory of 
 what we have heard the stranger say out of the tablets of the 
 brain ? ' ' 
 
 "What is vril?" I asked. 
 
 Therewith Zee began to enter into an explanation of which I '. 
 understood very little, for there is no word in any language I | 
 know which is an exact synonym for vril. I should call it 
 electricity, except that it comprehends in its manifold branches 
 other forces of nature, to which, in our scientific nomenclature, 
 differing names are assigned, such as magnetism, galvanism, 
 etc. These people consider that in vril they have arrived at 
 the unity in natural energic agencies, whch has been conject- 
 ured by many philosophers above ground, and which Faraday 
 thus intimates under the more cautious term of correlation : 
 
 "I have long held an opinion," says that illustrious experi- 
 mentalist, "almost amounting to a conviction, in common, I 
 believe, with many other lovers of natural knowledge, .that the 
 various forms under which the forces of matter are made mani- 
 fest have one common origin ; or, in other words, are so di- 
 rectly related and mutually dependent, that they are converti- 
 ble, as it were, into one another, and possess equivalents of 
 power in their action." 
 
 These subterranean philosophers assert that, by one opera- 
 tion of vril, which Faraday would perhaps call "atmospheric 
 magnetism," they can influence the variations of temperature 
 in plain words, the weather; that by other operations, akin to 
 those ascribed to mesmerism, electro-biology, odic force, etc., 
 but applied scientifically through vril conductors, they can ex- 
 ercise influence over minds, and bodies animal and vegetable, 
 to an extent not surpassed in the romances of our mystics. To 
 all such agencies they give the common name of vril. Zee 
 asked me if, in my world, it was not known that all the facul- 
 ties of the mind could be quickened to a degree unknown in 
 the waking state, by trance or vision, in which the thoughts of 
 one brain could be transmitted to another, and knowledge be 
 thus rapidly interchanged. I replied, that there were among 
 us stories told of such trance or vision, and that I had heard 
 much and seen something of the mode in which they were arti- 
 ficially effected, as in mesmeric clairvoyance; but that these 
 practices had fallen much into disuse or contempt, partly be- 
 cause of the gross impostures to which they had been made 
 subservient, and partly because, even where the effects upon 
 certain abnormal constitutions were genuinely produced, the
 
 24 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 effects, when fairly examined and analyzed, were very unsat- 
 isfactory not to be relied upon for any systematic truthfulness 
 or any practical purpose, and rendered very mischievous to 
 credulous persons by the superstitions they tended to produce. 
 Zee received my answers with much benignant attention, and 
 said that similar instances of abuse and credulity had been 
 familiar to their own scientific experience in the infancy of 
 their knowledge, and while the properties of vril were misap- 
 prehended, but that she reserved further discussion on this 
 subject till I was more fitted to enter into it. She contented 
 herself with adding, that it was through the agency of vril, 
 while I had been placed in the state of trance, that I had been 
 made acquainted with the rudiments of their language; and 
 that she and her father, who, alone of the family, took the pains 
 to watch the experiment, had acquired a greater proportion- 
 ate knowledge of my language than I of their own ; partly be- 
 cause my language was much simpler than theirs, comprising 
 far less of complex ideas; and partly because their organization 
 was, by hereditary culture, much more ductile and more read- 
 ily capable of acquiring knowledge than mine. At this I 
 secretly demurred ; and having had, in the course of a practi- 
 cal life, to sharpen my wits, whether at home or in travel, I 
 could not allow that my cerebral organization could possibly be 
 duller than that of people who had lived all their lives by lamp- 
 light. However, while I was thus thinking, Zee quietly 
 pointed her forefinger at my forehead and sent me to sleep. 
 
 i . 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WHEN I once more awoke I saw by my bedside the child 
 who had brought the rope and grappling-hooks to the house in 
 which I had been first received, and which, as I afterwards 
 learned, was the residence of the chief magistrate of the tribe. 
 The child, whose name was Tae (pronounced Tar-ee), was the 
 magistrate's eldest son. I found that during my last sleep or 
 trance I had made still greater advance in the language of the 
 country, and could converse with comparative ease and fluency. 
 
 This child was singularly handsome, even for the beautiful 
 race to which he belonged, with a countenance very manly in 
 aspect for his years, and with a more vivacious and energetic 
 expression than I had hitherto seen in the serene and passion- 
 less face of the men. He brought me the tablet on which I 
 had drawn the mode of my descent, and had also sketched the 
 head of the horrible reptile that had scared me from my
 
 THE COMING RACE. 35 
 
 friend's corpse. Pointing to that part of the drawing, Tae put 
 to me a few questions respecting the size and form of the 
 monster, and the cave or chasm from which it had emerged. 
 His interest in my answers seemed so grave as to divert him 
 for a while from curiosity as to myself or my antecedents. 
 But to my great embarrassment, seeing how I was pledged to 
 my host, he was just beginning to ask me where I came from, 
 when Zee fortunately entered, and, overhearing him, said : 
 "Tae, give to our guest any information he may desire, but ask 
 none from him in return. To question him who he is, whence 
 he came, or wherefore he is here, would be a breach of the law 
 which my father has laid down for this house." 
 
 "So be it," said Tae, pressing his hand to his heart; and 
 from that moment, till the one in which I saw him last, this 
 child, with whom I became very intimate, never once put to 
 me any of the questions thus interdicted. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IT was not for some time, and until, by repeated trances, if 
 they are so to be called, my mind became better prepared to 
 interchange ideas with my entertainers, and more fully to com- 
 prehend differences of manners and customs at first too strange 
 to my experience to be seized by my reason, that I was enabled 
 to gather the following details respecting the origin and history 
 of this subterranean population, as portion of one great family 
 race called the Ana. 
 
 According to the earliest traditions, the remote progenitors 
 of the race had once tenanted a world above the surface of 
 that in which their descendants dwelt. Myths of that world 
 were still preserved in their archives, and in those myths were 
 legends of a vaulted dome in which the lamps were lighted by 
 no human hand. But such legends were considered by most 
 commentators as allegorical fables. According to these tradi- 
 tions the earth itself, at the date to which the traditions ascend, 
 was not indeed in its infancy, but in the throes and travail of 
 transition from one form of development to another, and sub- 
 ject to many violent revolutions of nature. By one of such 
 revolutions, that portion of the upper world inhabited by the 
 ancestors of this race had been subjected to inundations, not 
 rapid, but gradual and uncontrollable, in which all, save a 
 scanty remnant, were submerged and perished. Whether this 
 be a record of our historical and sacred Deluge, or of some 
 earlier one contended for by geologists, I do not pretend to
 
 26 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 conjecture; though, according to the chronology of this people 
 as compared with that of Newton, it must have been many 
 thousands of years before the time of Noah. On the other 
 hand, the account of these writers does not harmonize with 
 the opinions most in vogue among geological authorities, inas- 
 much as it places the existence of a human race upon earth at 
 dates long anterior to that assigned to the terrestrial formation 
 adapted to the introduction of mammalia. A band of the ill- 
 fated race, thus invaded by the Flood, had, during the march 
 of the waters, taken refuge in caverns amidst the loftier rocks, 
 and, wandering through these hollows, they lost sight of the 
 upper world forever. Indeed, the whole face of the earth had 
 been changed by this great revulsion; land had been turned 
 into sea sea into land. In the bowels of the inner earth even 
 now, I was informed as a positive fact, might be discovered 
 the remains of human habitation habitation not in huts and 
 caverns, but in vast cities whose ruins attest the civilization of 
 races which flourished before the age of Noah, and are not to 
 be classified with those genera to which philosophy ascribes 
 the use of flint and the ignorance of iron. 
 
 The fugitives had carried with them the knowledge of the 
 arts they had practised above ground arts of culture and civi- 
 lization. Their earliest want must have been that of supplying 
 below the earth the light they had lost above it ; and at no time 
 even in the traditional period, do the races, of which the one 
 I now sojourned with formed a tribe, seem to have been unac- 
 quainted with the art of extracting light from gases, or manga- 
 nese, or petroleum. They had been accustomed in their former 
 state to contend with the rude forces of nature; and indeed 
 the lengthened battle they had fought with their conqueror 
 Ocean, which had taken centuries in its spread, had quickened 
 their skill in curbing waters into dikes and channels. To this 
 skill they owed their preservation in their new abode. "For 
 many generations," said my host, with a sort of contempt and 
 horror, "these primitive forefathers are said to have degraded 
 their rank and shortened their lives by eating the flesh of ani- 
 mals, many varieties of which had, like themselves, escaped 
 the Deluge, and sought shelter in the hollows of the earth ; 
 other animals, supposed to be unknown to the upper world, those 
 hollows themselves produced." 
 
 When what we should term the historical age emerged from 
 the twilight of tradition, the Ana were already established in 
 different communities, and had attained to a degree of civiliza- 
 tion very analogous to that which the more advanced nations
 
 THE COMING RACE. 2J 
 
 above the earth now enjoy. They were familiar with most ot 
 our mechanical inventions, including the application of steam 
 as well as gas. The communities were in fierce competition 
 tvith each other. They had their rich and their poor: they had 
 orators and conquerors ; they made war either for a domain or 
 an idea. Though the various states acknowledged various 
 forms of government, free institutions were beginning to pre- 
 ponderate ; popular assemblies increased in power ; republics 
 soon became general ; the democracy to which the most en- 
 lightened European politicians look forward as the extreme goal 
 of political advancement, and which still prevailed among other 
 subterranean races, whom they despised as barbarians, the 
 loftier family of Ana, to which belonged the tribe I was visiting, 
 looked back to as one of the crude and ignorant experiments 
 which belong to the infancy of political science. It was the 
 age of envy and hate, of fierce passions, of constant social 
 change more or less violent, of strife between classes, of war 
 between state and state. This phase of society lasted, how- 
 ever, for some ages, and was finally brought to a close, at least 
 among the nobler and more intellectual populations, by the 
 gradual discovery of the latent powers stored in the all-permeat- 
 ing fluid which they denominate Vril. 
 
 According to the account I received from Zee, who, as an 
 erudite professor in the College of Sages, had studied such 
 matter more diligently than any other member of my host's 
 family, this fluid is capable of being raised and disciplined into 
 the mightiest agency over all forms of matter, animate or inani- 
 mate. It can destroy like the flash of lightning; yet, differently 
 applied, it can replenish or invigorate life, heal, and preserve ; 
 and on it they chiefly rely for the cure of disease, or rather of 
 enabling the physical organization to re-establish the due equi- 
 librium of its natural powers, and thereby to cure itself. By this 
 agency they rend way through the most solid substances, and 
 open valleys for culture through the rocks of their subterranean 
 wilderness. From it they extract the light which supplies their 
 lamps, finding it steadier, softer, and healthier than the other 
 inflammable materials they had used. 
 
 But the effects of the alleged discovery of the means to direct 
 the more terrible force of vril were chiefly remarkable in their 
 influence upon social polity. As these effects became famil- 
 iarly known and skilfully administered, war between the Vril- 
 discoverers ceased ; for they brought the art of destruction to 
 such perfection as to annul all superiority in numbers, disci- 
 pline, or military skill. The fire lodged in the hollow of a
 
 28 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 rod directed by the hand of a child could shatter the strongest 
 fortress, or cleave its burning way from the van to the rear of 
 an embattled host. If army met army, and both had command 
 of this agency, it could be but to the annihilation of each. 
 The age of war was therefore gone, but with the cessation of 
 war other effects bearing upon the social state soon became 
 apparent. Man was so completely at the mercy of man, each 
 whom he encountered being able, if so willing, to slay him on 
 the instant, that all notions of government by force gradually 
 vanished from political systems and forms of law. It is only 
 by force that vast communities, dispersed through great dis- 
 tances of space, can be kept together; but now there was no 
 longer either the necessity of self-preservation or the pride of 
 aggrandizement to make one state desire to preponderate in 
 population over another. 
 
 The Vril-discoverers thus, in the course of a few generations, 
 peacefully split into communities of moderate size. The tribe 
 amongst which I had fallen was limited to 12,000 families. 
 Each tribe occupied a territory sufficient for all its wants, and 
 at stated periods the surplus population departed to seek a 
 realm of its own. There appeared no necessity for any arbi- 
 trary selection of these emigrants ; there was always a suffi- 
 cient number who volunteered to depart. 
 
 These subdivided states, petty if we regard either territory 
 or population, all appertained to one vast general family. 
 They spoke the same language, though the dialects might 
 slightly differ. They intermarried; they maintained the same 
 general laws and customs ; and so important a bond between 
 these several communities was the knowledge of vril and the 
 practice of its agencies, that the word A-Vril was synonymous 
 with civilization; and Vril-ya, signifying "The Civilized Na- 
 . tions," was the common name by which the communities em- 
 ploying the uses of vril distinguished themselves from such of 
 [_the Ana as were yet in a state of barbarism. 
 
 The government of the tribe of Vril-ya I am treating of was 
 apparently very complicated, really very simple. It was based 
 upon a principle recognized in theory, though little carried out 
 in practice, above ground, viz., that the object of all systems 
 of philosophical thought tends to the attainment of unity, or 
 the ascent through all intervening labyrinths to the simplicity 
 of a single first cause or principle. Thus in politics, even re- 
 publican writers have agreed that a benevolent autocracy would 
 insure the best administration, if there were any guarantees for 
 its continuance, or against its gradual abuse of the powers
 
 THE COMING RACE. 29 
 
 accorded to it. This singular community elected therefore a 
 single supreme magistrate styled Tur; he held his office nomi- 
 nally for life, but he could seldom be induced to retain it after 
 the first approach of old age. There was, indeed, in this 
 society nothing to induce any of its members to covet the cares 
 of office. No honors, no insignia of higher rank, were assigned 
 to it. The supreme magistrate was not distinguished from the 
 rest by superior habitation or revenue. On the other hand, the 
 duties awarded to him were marvellously light and easy, requir- 
 ing no preponderant degree of energy or intelligence. There 
 being no apprehensions of war, there were no armies to main- 
 tain ; being no government of force, there was no police to 
 appoint and direct. What we call crime was utterly unknown 
 to the Vril-ya; and there were no courts of criminal justice. 
 The rare instances of civil disputes were referred for arbitration 
 to friends chosen by either party, or decided by the Council of 
 Sages, which will be described later. There were no profes- 
 sional lawyers ; and indeed their laws were but amicable con- 
 ventions, for there was no power to enforce laws against an 
 offender who carried in his staff the power to destroy his 
 judges. There were customs and regulations, to compliance 
 with which, for several ages, the people had tacitly habituated 
 themselves ; or if in any instance an individual felt such com- 
 pliance hard, he quitted the community and went elsewhere. 
 There was, in fact, quietly established amid this state, much 
 the same compact that is found in our private families, in which 
 we virtually say to any independent grown-up member of the 
 family whom we receive and entertain: "Stay or go, according 
 as our habits and regulations suit or displease you." But 
 though there were no laws such as we call laws, no race above 
 ground is so law-observing. Obedience to the rule adopted by 
 the community has become as much an instinct as if it were 
 implanted by nature. Even in every household the head of it 
 makes a regulation for its guidance, which is never resisted nor 
 even cavilled at by those who belong to the family. They 
 have a proverb, the pithiness of which is much lost in this 
 paraphrase: "No happiness without order, no order without 
 authority, no authority without unity." The mildness of all 
 government among them, civil or domestic, may be signalized 
 by their idiomatic expressions for such terms as illegal or for- 
 bidden, viz., "It is requested not to do so-and-so." Poverty 
 among the Ana is as unknown as crime; not that property is 
 held in common, or that all are equals in the extent of their 
 possessions or the size and luxury of their habitations: but
 
 30 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 there being no difference of rank or position between the grades 
 of wealth or the choice of occupations, each pursues his own 
 inclinations without creating envy or vying; some like a modest, 
 some a more splendid kind of life ; each makes himself happy 
 in his own way. Owing to this absence of competition, and 
 the limit placed on the population, it is difficult for a family to 
 fall into distress; there are no hazardous speculations, no emu- 
 lators striving for superior wealth and rank. No doubt, in each 
 settlement all originally had the same proportions of land dealt 
 out to them but some, more adventurous than others, had 
 extended their possessions farther into the bordering wilds, or 
 had improved into richer fertility the produce of their fields, or 
 entered into commerce or trade. Thus necessarily, some had 
 grown richer than others, but none had become absolutely poor, 
 or wanting anything which their tastes desired. If they did 
 so, it was always in their power to migrate, or at the worst to 
 apply, without shame and with certainty of aid, to the rich; 
 for all the members of the community considered themselves 
 as brothers of one affectionate and united family. More 
 upon this head will be treated of incidentally as my narrative 
 proceeds. 
 
 The chief care of the supreme magistrate was to communi- 
 cate with certain active departments charged with the administra- 
 tion of special details. The most important and essential of 
 such details was that connected with the due provision of light. 
 Of this department my host, Aph-Lin, was the chief. Another 
 department, which might be called the foreign, communicated 
 with the neighboring kindred states, principally for the purpose 
 of ascertaining all new inventions; and to a third department 
 all such inventions and improvements in machinery were com- 
 mitted for trial. Connected with this department was the 
 College of Sages a college especially favored by such of the 
 Ana as were widowed and childless, and by the young unmar- 
 ried females, amongst whom Zee was the most active, and, if 
 what we call renown or distinction was a thing acknowledged 
 by this people (which I shall later show it is not), among the 
 most renowned or distinguished. It is by the female Professors 
 of this college that those studies which are deemed of least use 
 in practical life as purely speculative philosophy, the history 
 of remote periods, and such sciences as entomology, conchol- 
 ogy, etc. are the more diligently cultivated. Zee, whose 
 mind, active as Aristotle's, equally embraced the largest 
 domains and the minutest details of thought, had written 
 two volumes on the parasite insect that dwells amid the hairs of
 
 THE COMING RACE. 31 
 
 a tiger's * paw, which work was considered the best authority on 
 that interesting subject. But the researches of the sages are not 
 confined to such subtle or elegant studies. They comprise vari- 
 ous others more important, and especially the properties of vril, 
 to the perception of which their finer nervous organization ren- 
 ders the female Professors eminently keen. It is out of this col- 
 lege that the Tur, or chief magistrate, selects Councillors, limited 
 to three, in the rare instances in which novelty of event or cir- 
 cumstance perplexes his own judgment. 
 
 There are a few other departments of minor consequence, but 
 all are carried on so noiselessly and quietly that the evidence 
 of a government seems to vanish altogether, and social order 
 to be as regular and unobtrusive as if it were a law of nature. 
 Machinery is employed to an inconceivable extent in all the 
 operations of labor within and without doors, an it is the unceas- 
 ing object of the department charged with its administration to 
 extend its efficiency. There is no class of laborers or servants, 
 but all who are required to assist or control the machinery are 
 found in the children, from the time they leave the care of their 
 mothers to the marriageable age, which they place at sixteen for 
 the Gy-ei (the females), twenty for the Ana (the males). These 
 children are formed into bands and sections under their own 
 chiefs, each following the pursuits in which he is most pieased, 
 or for which he feels himself most fitted. Some take to handi- 
 crafts, some to agriculture, some to household work, and some 
 to the only services of danger to which the population is exposed; 
 for the sole perils that threaten this tribe are, first, from those 
 occasional convulsions within the earth, to foresee and guard 
 against which tasks their utmost ingenuity irruptions of fire 
 and water, the storms of subterranean winds and escaping 
 gases. At the borders of the domain, and at all places 
 where such peril might be apprehended, vigilant inspectors 
 are stationed with telegraphic communication to the hall 
 in which chosen sages take it by turns to hold perpetual sittings. 
 These inspectors are always selected from the elder boys ap- 
 proaching the age of puberty, and on the principle that at that 
 age observation is more acute and the physical forces more alert 
 than at any other. The second service of danger, less grave, 
 is in the destruction of all creatures hostile to the life, or the 
 
 * The animal here referred to has many points of difference from the tiger of the up- 
 per world. It is larger, and with a broader paw, and still rrore receding frontal. It 
 haunts the sides of lakes and pools, and feeds principally on fishes, though it does not 
 object to any terrestrial animal of inferior strength that comes in its way. It is becoming 
 very scarce even in the wild districts, where it is devoured by gigantic reptiles. I appre- 
 hend that it clearly belongs to the tiger species, since the parasite animalcule found in its 
 paw, like that found in the Asiatic tiger's, is a miniature image of itself.
 
 3 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 culture, or even the comfort, of the Ana. Of these the most 
 formidable are the vast reptiles, of some of which antedilu- 
 vian relics are preserved in our museums, and certain gigantic 
 winged creatures, half-bird, half-reptile. These, together with 
 lesser wild animals, corresponding to our tigers or venom- 
 ous serpents, it is left to the younger children to hunt and 
 destroy; because, according to the Ana, here ruthlessness is 
 wanted, and the younger a child the more ruthlessly he will 
 destroy. There is another class of animals in the destruction 
 of which discrimination is to be used, and against which children 
 of intermediate age are appointed animals that do not threat- 
 en the life of man, but ravage the produce of his labor, 
 varieties of the elk and deer species, and a smaller creature 
 much akin to our rabbit, though infinitely more destructive 
 to crops, and much more cunning in its mode of depredation. 
 It is the first object of these appointed infants, to tame the more 
 intelligent of such animals into respect for enclosures signalized 
 by conspicuous landmarks, as dogs are taught to respect a lar- 
 der, or even to guard the master's property. It is only where such 
 creatures are found untamable to this extent that they are des- 
 troyed. Life is never taken away for food or for support, and 
 never spared where untamably inimical to the Ana. Concomi- 
 tantly with these bodily services and tasks, the mental education 
 of the children goes on till boyhood ceases. It is the general 
 custom, then, to pass through a course of instruction at the 
 College of Sages, in which, besides more general studies, the 
 pupil receives special lessons in such vocation or direction of 
 intellect as he himself selects. Some, however, prefer to pass 
 this period of probation in travel, or to emigrate, or to settle 
 down at once into rural or commercial pursuits. No force 
 is put upon individual inclination. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE word Ana (pronounced broadly Arna) corresponds with 
 our plural men; An (pronounced Am), the singular, with man. 
 The word for woman is Gy (pronounced hard, as in Guy); 
 it forms itself into Gy-ei for the plural, but the G becomes soft 
 in the plural, like Jy-ei. They have a proverb to the effect 
 that this difference in pronunciation is symbolical, for that 
 the female sex is soft collectively, but hard to deal with in the 
 individual. The Gy-ie are in the fullest enjoyment of all the 
 rights of equality with males, for which certain philosophers 
 above ground contend.
 
 THE COMING RACE. 33 
 
 In childhood they perform the offices of work and labor 
 impartially with boys; and, indeed, in the earlier age appro- 
 priated to the destruction of animals irreclaimably hostile, the 
 girls are frequently preferred, as being by constitution more 
 ruthless under the influence of fear or hate. In the interval 
 between infancy and the marriageable age familiar intercourse 
 between the sexes is suspended. At the marriageable age it is 
 renewed, never with worse consequences than those which 
 attend upon marriage. All arts and vocations allotted to the 
 one sex are open to the other, and the Gy-ei arrogate to 
 themselves a superiority in all those abstruse and mystical 
 branches of reasoning, for which they say the Ana are unfitted 
 by a duller sobriety of understanding, or the routine of their 
 matter-of-fact occupations, just as young ladies in our own 
 world constitute themselves authorities in the subtlest points 
 of theological doctrine, for which few men, actively engaged 
 in worldly business, have sufficient learning or refinement of 
 intellect. Whether owing to early training in gymnastic ex- 
 ercises or to their constitutional organization, the Gy-ei are 
 usually superior to the Ana in physical strength (an important 
 element in the consideration and maintenance of female rights). 
 They attain to loftier stature, and amid their rounder propor- 
 tions are embedded sinews and muscles as hardy as those of 
 the other sex. Indeed they assert that, according to the origi- 
 nal laws of nature, females were intended to be larger than 
 males, and maintain this dogma by reference to the earliest 
 formations of life in insects and in the most ancient family of 
 the vertebrata viz., fishes in both of which the females are 
 generally large enough to make a meal of their consorts if they 
 so desire. Above all, the Gy-ei have a readier and more con- 
 centred power over that mysterious fluid or agency which con- 
 tains the element of destruction, with a larger portion of that 
 sagacity which comprehends dissimulation. Thus they can not 
 only defend themselves against all aggressions from the males, 
 but could, at any moment when he least suspected his danger, 
 terminate the existence of an offending spouse. To the credit 
 of the Gy-ei no instance of their abuse of this awful superiority 
 in the art of destruction is on record for several ages. The 
 last that occurred in the community I speak of appears (accord- 
 ing to their chronology) to have been about two thousand years 
 ago. A Gy, then in a fit of jealousy, slew her husband; and 
 this abominable act inspired such terror among the males that 
 they emigrated in a body and left all the Gy-ei to themselves. 
 The history runs that the widowed Gy-ei, thus reduced to de-
 
 34 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 spair, fell upon the murderess in her sleep (and therefore un- 
 armed), and killed her, and then entered into a solemn obli- 
 gation amongst themselves to abrogate forever the exercise of 
 their extreme conjugal powers, and to inculcate the same obli- 
 gation forever and ever on their female children. By this con- 
 ciliatory process, a deputation despatched to the fugitive con- 
 sorts succeeded in persuading many to return, but those who did 
 return were mostly the elder ones. The younger, either from 
 too craven a doubt of their consorts, or too high an estimate of 
 their own merits, rejected all overtures, and, remaining in 
 other communities, were caught up there by other mates, with 
 whom perhaps they were no better off. But the loss of so large 
 a portion of the male youth operated as a salutary warning on 
 the Gy-ei, and confirmed them in the pious resolution to which 
 they had pledged themselves. Indeed it is now popularly con- 
 sidered that, by long hereditary disuse, the Gy-ei have lost both 
 the aggressive and the defensive superiority over the Ana which 
 they once possessed, just as in the inferior animals above the 
 earth many peculiarities in their original formation, intended 
 by nature for their protection, gradually fade or become 
 inoperative when not needed under altered circumstances. I 
 should be sorry, however, for any An who induced a Gy to 
 make the experiment whether he or she were the stronger. 
 
 From the incident I have narrated, the Ana date certain 
 alterations in the marriage customs, tending, perhaps, some- 
 what to the advantage of the male. They now bind themselves 
 in wedlock only for three years ; at the end of each third year 
 either male or female can divorce the other and is free to marry 
 again. At the end of ten years the An has the privilege of 
 taking a second wife, allowing the first to retire if she so 
 please. These regulations are for the most part a dead letter ; 
 divorces and polygamy are extremely rare, and the marriage 
 state now seems singularly happy and serene amongst this as- 
 tonishing people ; the Gy-ei, notwithstanding their boastful 
 superiority in physical strength and intellectual abilities, being 
 much curbed into gentle manners by the dread of separation or 
 of a second wife, and the Ana being very much the creatures 
 of custom, and not, except under great aggravation, liking to 
 exchange for hazardous novelties faces and manners to which 
 they are reconciled by habit. But there is one privilege the 
 Gy-ei carefully retain, and the desire for which perhaps forms 
 the secret motive of most lady asserters of woman rights above 
 ground. They claim the privilege, here usurped by men, of 
 proclaiming their love and urging their suit; in other words, of
 
 THE COMING RACE. 35 
 
 being the wooing party rather than the wooed. Such a phe- 
 nomenon as an old maid does not exist among the Gy-ei. 
 Indeed it is very seldom that a Gy does not secure any An 
 upon whom she sets her heart, if his affections be not strongly 
 engaged elsewhere. However coy, reluctant, and prudish 
 the male she courts may prove at first, yet her perseverance, 
 her ardor, her persuasive powers, her command over the mys- 
 tic agencies of vril, are pretty sure to run down his neck into 
 what we call "the fatal noose." Their argument for the re- 
 versal of that relationship of the sexes which the blind tyranny 
 of man has established on the surface of the earth appears 
 cogent, and is advanced with a frankness which might well be 
 commended to impartial consideration. They say, that of the 
 two the female is by nature of a more loving disposition than 
 the male, that love occupies a larger space in her thoughts, and 
 is more essential to her happiness, and that therefore she ought 
 to be the wooing party ; that otherwise the male is a shy and 
 dubitant creature ; that he has often a selfish predilection for 
 the single state ; that he often pretends to misunderstand tender 
 glances and delicate hints ; that, in short, he must be resolutely 
 pursued and captured. They add, moreover, that unless the 
 Gy can secure the An of her choice, and one whom she would 
 not select out of the whole world becomes her mate, she is not 
 only less happy than she otherwise would be, but she is not so 
 good a being ; that her qualities of heart are not sufficiently 
 developed; whereas the An is a creature that less lastingly con 
 centrates his affections on one object; that if he cannot get the 
 Gy whom he prefers he easily reconciles himself to another 
 Gy; and, finally, that at the worst, if he is loved and taken 
 care of, it is less necessary to the welfare of his existence that 
 he should love as well as be loved ; he grows contented with 
 his creature comforts, and the many occupations of thought 
 which he creates for himself. 
 
 Whatever may" be said as to this reasoning, the system works 
 well for the male ; for being thus sure that he is truly and ar- 
 dently loved, and that the more coy and reluctant he shows 
 himself, the more the determination to secure him increases, 
 he generally contrives to make his consent dependent on such 
 conditions as he thinks the best calculated to insure, if not a 
 blissful, at least a peaceful, life. Each individual An has his 
 own hobbies, his own ways, his own predilections, and, what- 
 ever they may be, he demands a promise of full and unre- 
 strained concession to them. This, in the pursuit of her ob- 
 ject, the Gy readily promises ; and as the characteristic of this
 
 36 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 extraordinary people is an implicit veneration for truth, and 
 her word once given is never broken even by the giddiest Gy, 
 the conditions stipulated for are religiously observed. In fact, 
 notwithstanding all their abstract rights and powers, the Gy-ei 
 are the most amiable, conciliatory, and submissive wives I have 
 ever seen even in the happiest households above ground. It is 
 an aphorism among them, that "where a Gy loves it is her 
 pleasure to obey." It will be observed that in the relationship 
 of the sexes I have spoken only of marriage, for such is the 
 moral perfection to which this community has attained, that 
 any illicit connection is as little possible amongst them as it 
 would be to a couple of linnets during the time they agreed to 
 live in pairs. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 NOTHING had more perplexed me in seeking to reconcile my 
 sense to the existence of regions extending below the surface 
 of the earth, and habitable by beings, if dissimilar from, still, 
 in all material points of organism, akin to those in the upper 
 world, than the contradiction thus presented to the doctrine in 
 which, I believe, most geologists and philosophers concur, viz., 
 that though with us the sun is the great source of heat, yet the 
 deeper we go beneath the crust of the earth, the greater is the 
 increasing heat, being, it is said, found in the ratio of a degree 
 for every foot, commencing from fifty feet below the surface. 
 But though the domains of the tribe I speak of were, on the 
 higher ground, so comparatively near to the surface, that I 
 could account for a temperature, therein, suitable to organic 
 life, yet even the ravines and valleys of that realm were much 
 less hot than philosophers would deem possible at such a 
 depth certainly not warmer than the south of France, or at 
 least of Italy. And according to all the accounts I received, 
 vast tracts immeasurably deeper beneath the surface, and in 
 which one might have thought only salamanders could exist, 
 were inhabited by innumerable races organized like ourselves. 
 I cannot pretend in any way to account for a fact which is so 
 at variance with the recognized laws of science, nor could Zee 
 much help me towards a solution of it. She did but conject- 
 ure that sufficient allowance had not been made by our philoso- 
 phers for the extreme porousness of the interior earth; the 
 vastness of its cavities and irregularities, which served to create 
 free currents of air and frequent winds, and for the various 
 modes in which heat is evaporated and thrown off. She 
 allowed, however, that there was a depth at which the heat was
 
 THE COMING RACE. 3? 
 
 deemed to be intolerable to such organized life as was known 
 to the experience of the Vril-ya, though their philosophers 
 believed that even in such places life of some kind life sen- 
 tient, life intellectual would be found abundant and thriving, 
 could the philosophers penetrate to it. "Wherever the All- 
 Good builds," said she, "there, be sure, He places inhabitants. 
 He loves not empty dwellings." She added, however, that 
 many changes in temperature and climate had been effected by 
 the skill of the Vril-ya, and that the agency of vril had been 
 successfully employed in such changes. She described a subtle 
 and life-giving medium called Lai, which I suspect to be iden- 
 tical with the ethereal oxygen of Dr. Lewins, wherein work all 
 the correlative forces united under the name of vril ; and con- 
 tended that wherever this medium could be expanded, as it 
 were, sufficiently for the various agencies of vril to have ample 
 play, a temperature congenial to the highest forms of life could 
 be secured. She said also, that it was the belief of their nat- 
 uralists that flowers and vegetation had been produced origin- 
 ally (whether developed from seeds borne from the surface of 
 the earth in the earlier convulsions of nature, or imported by 
 the tribes that first sought refuge in cavernous hollows) through 
 the operations of the light constantly brought to bear on them, 
 and the gradual improvement in culture. She said also, that 
 since the vril light had superseded all other light-giving bodies, 
 the colors of flower and foliage had become more brilliant, and 
 vegetation had acquired larger growth. 
 
 Leaving these matters to the consideration of those better 
 competent to deal with them, I must now devote a few pages 
 to the very interesting questions connected with the language 
 of the Vril-ya. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE language of the Vril-ya is peculiarly interesting, because 
 it seems to me to exhibit with great clearness the traces of the 
 three main transitions through which language passes in attain- 
 ing to perfection of form. 
 
 One of the most illustrious of recent philologists, Max 
 Miiller, in arguing for the analogy between the strata of lan- 
 guage and the strata of the earth, lays down this absolute 
 dogma: "No language can, by any possibility, be inflectional 
 without having passed through the agglutinative and isolating 
 stratum. No language can be agglutinative without clinging 
 with its roots to the underlying stratum of isolation,' ' "On the 
 Stratification of Language," p. 20.
 
 58 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 Taking then the Chinese language as the best existing type 
 of the original isolating stratum, "as the faithful photograph of 
 man in his leading-strings trying the muscles of his mind, 
 groping his way, and so delighted with his first successful 
 grasps that he repeats them again and again," * we have in the 
 language of the Vril-ya, still "clinging with its roots to the 
 underlying stratum, " the evidences of the original isolation. 
 It abounds in monosyllables, which are the foundations of the 
 language. The transition into the agglutinative form marks an 
 epoch that must have gradually extended through ages, the 
 written literature of which has only survived in a few frag- 
 ments of symbolical mythology and certain pithy sentences 
 which have passed into popular proverbs. With the extant 
 literature of the Vril-ya the inflectional stratum commences. 
 No doubt at that time there must have operated concur- 
 rent causes, in the fusion of races by some dominant people, 
 and the rise of some literary great phenomena by which the 
 form of language became arrested and fixed. As the inflection- 
 al stage prevailed over the agglutinative, it is surprising to see 
 how much more boldly the original roots of the language project 
 frpm the surface that conceals them. In the old fragments and 
 proverbs of the preceding stage the monosyllables which com- 
 pose those roots vanish amidst words of enormous length, com- 
 prehending whole sentences from which no one part can be dis- 
 entangled from the other and employed separately. But when 
 the inflectional form of language became so far advanced as to 
 have its scholars and grammarians, they seem to have united in 
 extirpating all such polysyhthetical or polysyllabic monsters, 
 as devouring invaders of the aboriginal forms. Words beyond 
 three syllables became proscribed as barbarous, and in propor- 
 tion as the language grew thus simplified it increased in 
 strength, in dignity, and in sweetness. Though now very 
 compressed in sound, it gains in clearness by that compression. 
 By a single letter, according to its position, they contrive to 
 express all that with civilized nations in our upper world it 
 takes the waste, sometimes of syllables, sometimes of sen- 
 tences, to express. Let me here cite one or two instances: 
 An (which I will translate man), Ana (men) ; the letter s is 
 with them a letter implying multitude, according to where it is 
 placed; Sana means mankind; Ansa, a multitude of men. 
 The prefix of certain letters in their alphabet invariably denotes 
 compound significations. For instance, Gl (which with them 
 is a single letter, as th is a single letter with the Greeks) at the 
 
 * Ma* Miiller, " Stratification of Language," p. 13.
 
 THfc COMING RACE. 30 
 
 Commencement of a word infers an assemblage or union of 
 things, sometimes kindred, sometimes dissimilar as Oon, a 
 house; Gloon, a town (/. e., an assemblage of houses). Ata 
 is sorrow; Glata, a public calamity. Aur-an is the health or 
 wellbeing of a man ; Glauran, the wellbeing of the state, the 
 good of the community ; and a word constantly in their mouths 
 is A-glauran, which denotes their political creed, viz., that 
 "the first principle of a community is the good of all." Aub 
 is invention ; Sila, a tone in music. Glaubsila, as uniting the 
 ideas of invention and of musical intonation, is the classical 
 word for poetry abbreviated, in ordinary conversation, to 
 Glaubs. Na, which with them is, like Gl, but a single letter, 
 always, when an initial, implies something antagonistic to life 
 or joy or comfort, resembling in this the Aryan root Nak, ex- 
 pressive of perishing or destruction. Nax is darkness ; Narl, 
 death; Naria, sin or evil. Nas an uttermost condition of 
 sin and evil corruption. In writing, they deem it irrev- 
 erent to express the Supreme Being by any special name. 
 He is symbolized by what may be termed the hieroglyphic 
 of a pyramid, A- I n prayer they address Him by a name 
 which they deem too sacred to confide to a stranger, and 
 I know it not. In conversation they generally use a periphras- 
 tic epithet, such as the All-Good. The letter V, symbolical 
 of the inverted pyramid, where it is an initial, nearly always 
 denotes excellence or power; as Vril, of which I have said so 
 much; Veed, an immortal spirit ; Veedya, immortality; Koom, 
 pronounced like the Welsh Cwm, denotes something of hollow- 
 ness. Koom itself is a profound hollow, metaphorically a cav- 
 ern ; Koom-in, a hole; Zi-koom, a valley; Koom-zi, vacancy 
 or void; Bodh-koom, ignorance (literally, knowledge-void). 
 Koom-Posh is their name for the government of the many, or 
 the ascendancy of the most ignorant or hollow. Posh is an 
 almost untranslatable idiom, implying, as the reader will see 
 later, contempt. The closest rendering I can give to it is our 
 slang term, "bosh"; and thus Koom-Posh may be loosely ren- 
 dered "Hollow-Bosh." But when Democracy or Koom-Posh 
 degenerates from popular ignorance into that popular passion 
 of ferocity which precedes its decease, as (to cite illustrations 
 from the upper world) during the French Reign of Terror, or for 
 the fifty years of the Roman Republic preceding the ascendancy 
 of Augustus, their name for that state of things is Glek-Nas. 
 Ek is strife Glek, the universal strife. Nas, as I before said, 
 is corruption or rot; thus Glek-nas may be construed, "the 
 universal strife-rot." Their compounds are very expressive;
 
 40 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 thus Bodh being knowledge, and Too, a participle that implies 
 the action of cautiously approaching, Too-bodh is their word 
 for Philosophy; Pah is a contemptuous exclamation analogous 
 to our idiom, "stuff and nonsense," Pah-bodh (literally, stuff - 
 and-nonsense-knowledge) is their term for futile or false phil- 
 osophy, and is applied to a species of metaphysical or specula- 
 tive ratiocination formerly in vogue, which consisted in mak- 
 ing inquiries that could not be answered, and were not worth 
 making; such, for instance, as: "Why does an An have five 
 toes to his feet instead of four or six? Did the first An, 
 created by the All-Good, have the same number of toes as his 
 descendants? In the form by which an An will be recognized 
 by his friends in the future state of being, will he retain any 
 toes at all, and, if so, will they be material toes or spiritual 
 toes?" I take these illustrations of Pah-Bodh, not in irony or 
 jest, but because the very inquiries I name formed the subject 
 of controversy by the latest cultivators of that "science" 
 4000 years ago. 
 
 In the declension of nouns I was informed that anciently 
 there were eight cases (one more than in the Sanskrit Gram- 
 mar); but the effect of time has been to reduce these cases, 
 and multiply, instead of these varying terminations, explanatory 
 prepositions. At present, in the Grammar submitted to my 
 study, there were four cases of nouns, three having varying 
 terminations, and the fourth a differing prefix. 
 
 SINGULAR. PLURAL. 
 
 Nom. An, Man. Nom. Ana, Men. 
 
 Dat. Ano, to Man. Dat. Anoi, to Men. 
 
 Ac. Anam, Man. Ac. Ananda, Men. 
 
 Voc. Hil-an, O Man. Voc. Hil-Ananda, O Men. 
 
 In the elder inflectional literature the dual form existed it 
 has long been obsolete. 
 
 The genitive case with them is also obsolete: the dative sup- 
 plies its place: they say the House to a Man, instead of the 
 House of a Man. When used (sometimes in poetry), the geni- 
 tive in the termination is the same as the nominative; so is the 
 ablative, the preposition that marks it being a prefix or suffix at 
 option, and generally decided by ear, according to the sound 
 of the noun. It will be observed that the prefix Hil marks the 
 vocative case. It is always retained in addressing another, ex- 
 cept in the most intimate domestic relations; its omission 
 would be considered rude; just as in our old forms of speech 
 in addressing a king it would have been deemed disrespectful 
 to say "King," and reverential to say "O King." In fact, as
 
 THE COMING RACE. 41 
 
 they have no titles of honor, the vocative adjuration supplies 
 the place of a title, and is given impartially to all. The prefix 
 Hil enters into the composition of words that imply distant 
 communications, as Hil-ya, to travel. 
 
 In the conjugation of their verbs, which is much too lengthy 
 a subject to enter on here, the auxiliary verb Ya, "to go," 
 which plays so considerable a part in the Sanskrit, appears and 
 performs a kindred office, as if it were a radical in some lan- 
 guage from which both had descended. But another auxiliary 
 of opposite significance also accompanies it and shares its la- 
 bors, viz., Zi, to stay or repose. Thus Ya enters into the future 
 tense, and Zi in the preterite of all verbs requiring auxiliaries. 
 Yam, I go Yiam, I may go Yani-ya, I shall go (literally, I 
 go to go) Zam-poo-yan, I have gone (literally, I rest from 
 gone). Ya, as a termination, implies by analogy, progress, 
 movement, efflorescence. Zi, as a terminal, denotes fixity, 
 sometimes in a good sense, sometimes in a bad, according to 
 the word with which it is coupled. Iva-zi, eternal goodness; 
 Nan-zi, eternal evil. Poo (from) enters as a prefix to words 
 that denote repugnance, or things from which we ought to be 
 averse. Poo-pra, disgust; poo-naria, falsehood, the vilest 
 kind of evil. Poosh or Posh I have already confessed to be 
 untranslatable literally. It is an expression of contempt not 
 unmixed with pity. This radical seems to have originated 
 from inherent sympathy between the labial effort and the sen- 
 timent that impelled it, Poo being an utterance in which the 
 breath is exploded from the lips with more or less vehemence. 
 On the other hand, Z, when an initial, is with them a sound in 
 which the breath is sucked inward, and thus Zu, pronounced 
 Zoo (which in their language is one letter), is the ordinary pre- 
 fix to words that signify something that attracts, pleases, 
 touches the heart as Zummer, lover; Zutze, love; Zuzulia, 
 delight. This indrawn sound of Z seems indeed naturally appro- 
 priated to fondness. Thus, even in our language, mothers say 
 to their babies, in defiance of grammar; "Zoo darling;" and 
 I have heard a learned professor at Boston call his wife (he 
 had only been married a month) "Zoo little pet." 
 
 I cannot quit this subject, however, without observing by 
 what slight changes in the dialects favored by different tribes 
 of the same race, the original signification and beauty of 
 sounds may become confused and deformed. Zee told me with 
 much indignation that ZQmmer (lover) which, in the way she 
 uttered it, seemed slowly taken down to the very depths of her 
 heart, was, in some not very distant communities of the Vril-
 
 42 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 ya, vitiated into the half-hissing, half-nasal, wholly disagree- 
 able, sound of Subber. I thought to myself it only wanted the 
 introduction of n before u to render it into an English word 
 significant of the last quality an amorous Gy would desire in 
 her Zummer. 
 
 I will but mention another peculiarity in this language which 
 gives equal force and brevity to its forms of expressions. 
 
 A is with them, as with us, the first letter of the alphabet, 
 and is often used as a prefix word by itself to convey a com- 
 plex idea of sovereignty or chiefdom, or presiding principle. 
 For instance, Iva is goodness; Diva, goodness and happiness 
 united ; A-Diva is unerring and absolute truth. I have already 
 noticed the value of A in A-glauran, so, in vril (to whose prop- 
 erties they trace their present state of civilization) A-vril de- 
 notes, as I have said, civilization itself. 
 
 The philologist will have seen from the above how much the 
 language of the Vril-ya is akin to the Aryan or Indo-Germanic; 
 but, like all languages, it contains words and forms in which 
 transfers from very opposite sources of speech have been taken. 
 The very title of Tur, which they give to their supreme magis- 
 trate, indicates theft from a tongue akin to the Turanian. 
 They say themselves that this is a foreign word borrowed from 
 a title which their historical records show to have been borne 
 by the chief of a nation with whom the ancestors of the Vril-ya 
 were,in very remote periods, on friendly terms, but which has 
 long become extinct, and they say that when, after the discov- 
 ery of vril, they remodelled their political institutions, they 
 expressly adopted a title taken from an extinct race and a dead 
 language for that of their chief magistrate, in order to avoid 
 all titles for that office with which they had previous asso- 
 ciations. 
 
 Should life be spared to me, I may collect into systematic 
 form such knowledge as I acquired of this language during my 
 sojourn amongst the Vril-ya. But what I have already said 
 will perhaps suffice to show to genuine philological students 
 that a language which, preserving so many of the roots in the 
 aboriginal form, and clearing from the immediate, but transi- 
 tory, polysynthetical stage, so many rude incumbrances, has 
 attained to such a union of simplicity and compass in its final 
 inflectional forms, must have been the gradual work of count- 
 less ages and many varieties of mind ; that it contains the evi- 
 dence of fusion between congenial races, and necessitated, in 
 arriving at the shape of which I have given examples, the con- 
 tinuous culture of a highly thoughtful people.
 
 THE COM INC RACE. 43 
 
 That nevertheless the literature which belongs to this lan- 
 guage is a literature of the past; that the present felicitous 
 state of society at which the Ana have attained forbids the 
 progressive cultivation of literature, especially in the two main 
 divisions of fiction and history, I shall have occasion to show 
 later. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THIS people have a religion, and, whatever may be said 
 against it, at least it has these strange peculiarities: firstly, that 
 they all believe in the creed they profess; secondly, that they 
 all practise the precepts which the creed inculcates. They 
 unite in the worship of the one divine Creator and Sustainerof 
 the universe. They believe that it is one of the properties of 
 the all-permeating agency of vril, to transmit to the well-spring 
 of life and intelligence every thought that a living creature can 
 conceive ; and though they do not contend that the idea of a 
 Deity is innate, yet they say that the An (man) is the only creat- 
 ure, so far as their observation of nature extends, to whom the 
 capacity of conceiving that idea, with all the trains of thought 
 which open out from it, is vouchsafed. They hold that this 
 capacity is a privilege that cannot have been given in vain, and 
 hence that prayer and thanksgiving are acceptable to the divine 
 Creator, and necessary to the complete development of the 
 human creature. They offer their devotions both in private 
 and public. Not being considered one of their species, I was 
 not admitted into the building or temple in which the public 
 worship is rendered ; but I am informed that the service is ex- 
 ceedingly short, and unattended with any pomp of ceremony. 
 It is a doctrine with the Vril-ya, that earnest devotion or com- 
 plete abstraction from the actual world cannot, with benefit to 
 itself, be maintained long at a stretch by the human mind, es- 
 pecially in public, and that all attempts to do so either lead to 
 fanaticism or to hypocrisy. When they pray in private, it is 
 when they are alone or with their young children. 
 
 They say that in ancient times there was a great number of 
 books written upon speculations as to the nature of the Deity, 
 and upon the forms of belief or worship supposed to be most 
 agreeable to Him. But these were found to lead to such 
 heated and angry disputations as not only to shake the peace of 
 the community and divide families before the most united, 
 but in the course of discussing the attributes of the Deity, the 
 existence of the Deity Himself became argued away, or, what 
 was \rorse, became invested with the passions and infirmities of
 
 44 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 the human disputants. "For," said my host, "since a finite 
 being like an An cannot possibly define the Infinite, so, when 
 he endeavors to realize an idea of the Divinity, he only reduces 
 the Divinity into an An like himself." During the later ages, 
 therefore, all theological speculations, though not forbidden, 
 have been so discouraged as to have fallen utterly into disuse. 
 The Vril-ya unite in a conviction of a future state, more 
 felicitous and more perfect than the present. If they have 
 very vague notions of the doctrine of rewards and punish- 
 ments, it is perhaps because they have no systems of rewards 
 and punishments among themselves, for there are no crimes to 
 punish, and their moral standard is so even that no An among 
 them is, upon the whole, considered more virtuous than an- 
 other. If one excels, perhaps, in one virtue, another equally 
 excels in some other virtue; if one has his prevalent fault or in- 
 firmity, so also another has his. In fact, in their extraordinary 
 mode of life, there are so few temptations to wrong, that they 
 are good (according to their notions of goodness) merely be- 
 cause they live. They have some fanciful notions upon the 
 continuance of life, when once bestowed, even in the vegetable 
 world, as the reader will see in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THOUGH, as I have said, the Vril-ya discourage all specula- 
 tions on the nature of the Supreme Being, they appear to con- 
 cur in a belief by which they think to solve that great problem 
 of the existence of evil which has so perplexed the philosophy 
 of the upper world. They hold that wherever He has once 
 given life, with the perceptions of that life, however faint it be, 
 as in a plant, the life is never destroyed; it passes into new 
 and improved forms, though not in this planet (differing 
 therein from the ordinary doctrine of metempsychosis), and 
 that the living thing retains the sense of identity, so that it 
 connects its past life with its future, and is conscious of its 
 progressive improvement in the scale of joy. For they say 
 that, without this assumption, they cannot, according to the 
 lights of human reason vouchsafed to them, discover the per- 
 fect justice which must be a constituent quality of the All-Wise 
 and the All-Good. Injustice, they say, can only emanate 
 from three causes; want of wisdom to perceive what is just, 
 want of benevolence to desire, want of power to fulfil it; and 
 that each of these three wants is incompatible in the All-Wise, 
 the All-Good, the All-Powerful. But that, while even in this
 
 tHE COMING RACE. 45 
 
 life the wisdom, the benevolence, and the power of the 
 Supreme Being are sufficiently apparent to compel our recog- 
 nition, the justice necessarily resulting from those attributes ab- 
 solutely requires another life, not for man only, but for every liv- 
 ing thing of the inferior orders. That, alike in the animal and 
 the vegetable world, we see one individual rendered, by circum- 
 stances beyond its control, exceedingly wretched compared to 
 its neighbors one only exists as the prey of another even a 
 plant suffers from disease till it perishes prematurely, while the 
 plant next to it rejoices in its vitality and lives out its happy 
 life free from a pang. That it is an erroneous analogy from 
 human infirmities to reply by saying that the Supreme Being 
 only acts by general laws, thereby making his own secondary 
 causes so potent as to mar the essential kindness of the First 
 Cause; and a still meaner and more ignorant conception of the 
 All-Good, to dismiss with a brief contempt all consideration of 
 justice for the myriad forms into which He has infused life, 
 and assume that justice is only due to the single product of the 
 An. There is no small and no great in the eyes of the divine 
 Life-Giver. But once grant that nothing, however humble, 
 which feels that it lives and suffers, can perish through the 
 series of ages, that all its suffering here, if continuous from the 
 moment of its birth to that of its transfer to another form of 
 being, would be more brief compared with eternity than the 
 cry of the new-born is compared to the whole life of a man ; 
 and once suppose that this living thing retains its sense of 
 identity when so transferred (for without that sense it could be 
 aware of no future being), and though, indeed, the fulfilment 
 of divine justice is removed from the scope of our ken, yet we 
 have a right to assume it to be uniform and universal, and not 
 varying and partial, as it would be if acting only upon general 
 secondary laws ; because such perfect justice flows of necessity 
 from perfectness of knowledge to conceive, perfectness of love 
 to will, and perfectness of power to complete it. 
 
 However fantastic this belief of the Vril-ya may be, it tends 
 perhaps to confirm politically the systems of government which, 
 admitting differing degrees of wealth, yet establishes perfect 
 equality in rank, exquisite mildness in all relations and inter- 
 course, and tenderness to all created things which the good of 
 the community does not require them to destroy. And though 
 their notion of compensation to a tortured insect or a cankered 
 flower may seem to some of us a very wild crotchet, yet, at 
 least, it is not a mischievous one; and it may furnish matter 
 for no unpleasing reflection to think that within the abysses of
 
 46 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 earth, never lit by a ray from the material heavens, there 
 should have penetrated so luminous a conviction of the ineffable 
 goodness of the Creator so fixed an idea that the general laws 
 by which He acts cannot admit of any partial injustice or evil, 
 and therefore cannot be comprehended without reference to 
 their action over all space and throughout all time. And since, 
 as I shall have occasion to observe later, the intellectual con- 
 ditions and social systems of this subterranean race comprise 
 and harmonize great, and apparently antagonistic, varieties in 
 philosophical doctrine and speculation which have from time 
 to time been started, discussed, dismissed, and have re- 
 appeared amongst thinkers or dreamers in the upper world, so 
 I may perhaps appropriately conclude this reference to the be- 
 lief of the Vril-ya, that self-conscious or sentient life once 
 given is indestructible among inferior creatures as well as in 
 man, by an eloquent passage from the work of that eminent 
 zoologist, Louis Agassiz, which I have only just met with, 
 many years after I had committed to paper those recollections 
 of the life of the Vril-ya, which I now reduce into something 
 like arrangement and form: "The relations which individual 
 animals bear to one another are of such a character that they 
 ought long ago to have been considered as sufficient proof that 
 no organized being could ever have been called into existence 
 by other agency than by the direct intervention of a reflective 
 mind. This argues strongly in favor of the existence in every 
 animal of an immaterial principle similar to that which by its 
 excellence and superior endowments places man so much 
 above animals; yet the principle unquestionably exists, and 
 whether it be called sense, reason, or instinct, it presents in the 
 whole range of organized beings a series of phenomena closely 
 linked together, and upon it are based not only the higher 
 manifestations of the mind, but the very permanence of the 
 specific differences which characterize every organism. Most 
 of the arguments in favor of the immortality of man apply 
 equally to the permanency of this principle in other living 
 beings. May I not add that a future life in which man would 
 be deprived of that grea> source of enjoyment and intellectual 
 and moral improvement which results from the contemplation of 
 the harmonies of an organic world would involve a lamentable 
 loss? And may we not look to a spiritual concert of the com- 
 bined worlds and all their inhabitants in the presence of their 
 Creator as the highest conception of paradise?" "Essay on 
 Classification," sect, xvii., pp. 97-99.
 
 THE COMING KACE. 47 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 KIND to me as I found all in this household, the young 
 daughter of my host was the most considerate and thoughtful 
 in her kindness. At her suggestion I laid aside the habili- 
 ments in which I had descended from the upper earth, and 
 adopted the dress of the Vril-ya, with the exception of the art- 
 ful wings which served them, when on foot, as a graceful 
 mantle. But as many of the Vril-ya, when occupied in urban 
 pursuits, did not wear these wings, this exception created no 
 marked difference between myself and the race among which 
 I sojourned, and I was thus enabled to visit the town without 
 exciting unpleasant curiosity. Out of the household no one 
 suspected that I had come from the upper world, and I was but 
 regarded as one of some inferior and barbarous tribe whom 
 Aph-Lin entertained as a guest. 
 
 The city was large in proportion to the territory round it, 
 which was of no greater extent than many an English or Hun- 
 garian nobleman's estate; but the whole of it, to the verge of 
 the rocks which constituted its boundary, was cultivated to the 
 nicest degree, except where certain allotments of mountain and 
 pasture were humanely left free to the sustenance of the harm- 
 less animals they had tamed, though not for domestic use. So 
 great is their kindness towards these humbler creatures, that a 
 sum is devoted from the public treasury for the purpose of de- 
 porting them to other Vril-ya communities willing to receive 
 them (chiefly new colonies) whenever they become too numer- 
 ous for the pastures allotted to them in their native place. 
 They do not, however, multiply to an extent comparable to 
 the ratio at which, with us, animals bred for slaughter increase. 
 It seems a law of nature that animals not useful to man gradu- 
 ally recede from the domains he occupies, or even become 
 extinct. It is an old custom of the various sovereign states 
 amidst which the race of the Vril-ya are distributed, to leave 
 between each state a neutral and uncultivated border-land. 
 In the instance of the community I speak of, this tract, being 
 a ridge of savage rocks, was impassable by foot, but was easily 
 surmounted, whether by the wings of the inhabitants or the 
 air-boats, of which I shall speak hereafter. Roads through it 
 were also cut for the transit of vehicles impelled by vril. 
 These intercommunicating tracts were always kept lighted, 
 and the expense thereof defrayed by a special tax, to which all 
 the communities comprehended in the denomination of Vril-ya
 
 48 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 contribute in settled proportions. By these means a consider- 
 able commercial traffic with other states, both near and dis- 
 tant, was carried on. The surplus wealth of this special com- 
 munity was chiefly agricultural. The community was also 
 eminent for skill in constructing implements connected with 
 the arts of husbandry. In exchange for such merchandise it 
 obtained articles more of luxury than necessity. There were 
 few things imported on which they set a higher price than 
 birds taught to pipe artful tunes in concert. These were 
 brought from a great distance, and were marvellous for beauty 
 of song and plumage. I understood that extraordinary care 
 was taken by their breeders and teachers in selection, and that 
 the species had wonderfully improved during the last few years. 
 I saw no other pet animals among this community except some 
 very amusing and sportive creatures of the Batrachian species, 
 resembling frogs, but with very intelligent countenances, which 
 the children were fond of, and kept in their private gardens. 
 They appear to have no animals akin to our dogs or horses, 
 though that learned naturalist, Zee, informed me that such 
 creatures had once existed in those parts, and might now be 
 found in regions inhabited by other races than the Vril-ya. 
 She said that they had gradually disappeared from the more 
 civilized world since the discovery of vril, and the results at- 
 tending that discovery had dispensed with their uses. Machin- 
 ery and the invention of wings had superseded the horse as a 
 beast of burden; and the dog was no longer wanted either for 
 protection or the chase, as it had been when the ancestors of 
 the Vril-ya feared the aggressions of their own kind, or hunted 
 the lesser animals for food. Indeed, however, so far as the 
 horse was concerned, this region was so rocky that a horse 
 could have been, there, of little use either for pastime or bur- . 
 den. The only creature they use for the latter purpose is a 
 kind of large goat, which is much employed on farms. The 
 nature of the surrounding soil in these districts may be said to 
 have first suggested the invention of wings and air-boats. The 
 largeness of space, in proportion to the rural territory occupied 
 by the city, was occasioned by the custom of surrounding every 
 house with a separate garden. The broad main street, in 
 which Aph-Lin dwelt, expanded into a vast square, in which 
 were placed the College of Sages and all the public offices ; a 
 magnificent fountain of the luminous fluid which I call naphtha 
 (I am ignorant of its real nature) in the centre. All these 
 public edifices have a uniform character of massiveness and 
 solidity. They reminded me of the architectural pictures of
 
 THE COMING RACE. 49 
 
 Martin. Along the upper stories of each ran a balcony, or 
 rather a terraced garden, supported by columns, filled with 
 flowering-plants, and tenanted by many kinds of tame birds. 
 From the square branched several streets, all broad and bril- 
 liantly lighted, and ascending up the eminence on either side. 
 In my excursions in the town I was never allowed to go alone; 
 Aph-Lin or his daughter was my habitual companion. In this 
 community the adult Gy is seen walking with any young An as 
 familiarly as if there were no difference of sex. 
 
 The retail shops are not very numerous ; the persons who 
 attend on a customer are all children of various ages, and ex- 
 ceedingly intelligent and courteous, but without the least touch 
 of importunity or cringing. The shop-keeper himself might 
 or might not be visible ; when visible, he seemed rarely em- 
 ployed on any matter connected with his professional business ; 
 and yet he had taken to that business from special liking to it, 
 and quite independently of his general sources of fortune. 
 
 Some of the richest citizens in the community kept such 
 shops. As I have before said, no difference of rank is recog- 
 nizable, and therefore all occupations hold the same equal 
 social status. An An, of whom I bought my sandals, was the 
 brother of the Tur, or chief magistrate ; and though his shop 
 was not larger than that of any bootmaker in Bond Street or 
 Broadway, he was said to be twice as rich as the Tur who 
 dwelt in a palace. No doubt, however, he had some country- 
 seat. 
 
 The Ana of the community are on the whole, an indolent set 
 of beings after the active age of childhood. Whether by tem- 
 perament or philosophy, they rank repose among the chief 
 blessings of life. Indeed, when you take away from a human 
 being the incentives to action which are found in cupidity or 
 ambition, it seems to me no wonder that he rests quiet. 
 
 In their ordinary movements they prefer the use of their 
 feet to that of their wings. But for their sports or (to indulge 
 in a bold misuse of terms) their public promenades, they em- 
 ploy the latter, also for the aerial dances I have described, as 
 well as for visiting their country places, which are mostly placed 
 on lofty heights; and, when still young, they prefer their 
 wings, for travel into the other regions of the Ana, to vehicular 
 conveyances. 
 
 Those who accustom themselves to flight can fly, if less rap- 
 idly than some birds, yet from twenty-five to thirty miles an 
 hour, and keep up that rate for five or six hours at a stretch. 
 But the Ana generally, on reaching middle age, are not fond
 
 50 THE COMING RACE., 
 
 of rapid movements requiring violent exercise. Perhaps for 
 this reason, as they hold a doctrine which our own physicians 
 will doubtless approve, viz., that regular transpiration through 
 the pores of the skin is essential to health, they habitually use 
 the sweating-baths to which we give the name of Turkish or 
 Roman, succeeded by douches of perfumed waters. They 
 have great faith in the salubrious virtue of certain perfumes. 
 
 It is their custom also, at stated but rare periods, perhaps 
 four times a year when in health, to use a bath charged with 
 vril.* They consider that this fluid, sparingly used, is a great 
 sustainer of life ; but used in excess, when in the normal state 
 of health, rather tends to reaction and exhausted vitality. For 
 nearly all their diseases, however, they resort to it as the chief 
 assistant to nature in throwing off the complaint. 
 
 In their own way they are the most luxurious of people, but 
 all their luxuries are innocent. They may be said to dwell in 
 an atmosphere of music and fragrance. Every room has its 
 mechanical contrivances for melodious sounds, usually tuned 
 down to soft-murmured notes, which seem like sweet whispers 
 from invisible spirits. They are too accustomed to these gentle 
 sounds to find them a hindrance to conversation, nor, when 
 alone, to reflection. But they have a notion that to breathe an 
 air filled with continuous melody and perfume has necessarily 
 an effect at once smoothing and elevating upon the formation 
 of character and the habits of thought. Though so temperate, 
 and with total abstinence from other animal food than milk, 
 and from all intoxicating drinks, they are delicate and dainty 
 to an extreme in food and beverage; and in all their sports 
 even the old exhibit a childlike gayety. Happiness is the end 
 at which they aim, not as the excitement of a moment, but as 
 the prevailing condition of the entire existence; and regard for 
 the happiness of each other is evinced by the exquisite amen- 
 ity of their manners. 
 
 Their conformation of skull has marked differences from 
 that of any known races in the upper world, though I cannot 
 help thinking it a development, in the course of countless ages, 
 of the Brachycephalic type of the Age of Stone in Lyell's 
 "Elements of Geology," C. X., p. 113, as compared with the 
 Dolichocephalic type of the beginning of the Age of Iron, 
 correspondent with that now so prevalent amongst us, and 
 called the Celtic type. It has the same comparative massiveness 
 of forehead, not receding like the Celtic; the same even round- 
 
 * I once tried the effect of the vril bath. It was very similar in its invigorating powers 
 to that of the baths at Gastein, the virtues of which are ascribed by many physicians to 
 electricity ; but though similar, the effect of the vril bath was more lasting.
 
 THE COMING RACE. 5t 
 
 ness in the frontal organs; but it is far loftier in the apex, and 
 far less pronounced in the hinder cranial hemisphere where 
 phrenologists place the animal organs. To speak as a phrenolo- 
 gist, the cranium common to the Vril-ya has the organs of weight, 
 number, tune, form, order, causality, very largely developed ; 
 that of construction much more pronounced than that of ideality. 
 Those which are called the moral organs, such as conscien- 
 tiousness and benevolence, are amazingly full ; amativeness 
 and combativeness are both small; adhesiveness large; the 
 organ of destructiveness (i.e., of determined clearance of inter- 
 vening obstacles) immense, but less than that of benevolence; 
 and their philoprogenitiveness takes rather the character of com- 
 passion a"nd tenderness to things that need aid or protection than 
 of the animal love of offspring. I never met with one person 
 deformed or misshapen. The beauty of their countenances is 
 not only in symmetry of feature, but in a smoothness of sur- 
 face, which continues without line or wrinkle to the extreme 
 of old age, and a serene sweetness of expression, combined with 
 that majesty which seems to come from consciousness of power 
 and the freedom of all terror, physical or moral. It is that 
 very sweetness, combined with that majesty, which inspired 
 in a beholder like myself, accustomed to strive with the passions 
 of mankind, a sentiment of humiliation, of awe, of dread. It 
 is such an expression as a painter might give to a demigod, a 
 genius, an angel. The males of the Vril-ya are entirely beard- 
 less; the Gy-ei sometimes, in old age, develop a small moustache. 
 
 I was surprised to find that the color of their skin was not 
 uniformly that which I had remarked in those individuals whom 
 I had first encountered some being much fairer, and even 
 with blue eyes, and hair of a deep golden auburn, though still of 
 complexions warmer or richer in tone than persons in the north 
 of Europe. 
 
 I was told that this admixture of coloring arose from inter- 
 marriage with other and more distant tribes of the Vril-ya, 
 who, whether by the accident of climate or early distinction of 
 race, were of fairer hues than the tribes of which this com- 
 munity formed one. It was considered that the dark-red 
 skin showed the most ancient family of Ana; but they attached 
 no sentiment of pride to that antiquity, and, on the contrary 
 believed their present excellence of breed came from frequent 
 crossing with other families differing, yet akin ; and they encour- 
 age such intermarriages, always provided that it be with the 
 Vril-ya nations. Nations which, not conforming their manners 
 and institutions to those of the Vril-ya, nor indeed held capa-
 
 52 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 ble of acquiring the powers over the vril agencies which it had 
 taken them generations to attain and transmit, were regarded 
 with more disdain than citizens of New York regard the negroes. 
 
 I learned from Zee, who had more lore in all matters than 
 any male with whom I was brought into familiar converse, that 
 the superiority of the Vril-ya was supposed to have originated 
 in the intensity of their earlier struggles against obstacles in 
 nature amidst the localities in which they had first settled. 
 "Wherever," said Zee, moralizing; "Wherever goes on that 
 early process in the history of civilization, by which life is 
 made a struggle, in which the individual has to put forth all 
 his powers to compete with his fellow, we invariably find this 
 result, viz., since in the competition a vast number must perish, 
 nature selects for preservation only the strongest specimens. 
 With our race, therefore, even before the discovery of vril, only 
 the highest organizations were preserved; and there is among our 
 ancient books a legend once popularly believed, that we were 
 driven from a region that seems to denote the world you come 
 from, in order to perfect our condition and attain to the purest 
 elimination of our species by the severity of the struggles our 
 forefathers underwent; and that, when our education shall 
 become finally completed, we are destined to return to the upper 
 world, and supplant all the inferior races now existing therein." 
 
 Aph-Lin and Zee often conversed with me in private upon 
 the political and social conditions of that upper world, in which 
 Zee so philosophically assumed that the inhabitants were to be 
 exterminated one day or other by the advent of the Vril-ya. 
 They found in my accounts in which 1 continued to do all I 
 could (without launching into falsehoods so positive that they 
 would have been easily detected by the shrewdness of my 
 listeners) to present our powers and ourselves in the most flatter- 
 ing point of view perpetual subjects of comparison between our 
 more civilized populations and the meaner subterranean races 
 which they considered hopelessly plunged in barbarism, and 
 doomed to gradual if certain extinction. But they both agreed 
 in desiring to conceal from their community all premature open- 
 ing into the regions lighted by the sun; both were humane, and 
 shrunk from the thought of annihilating so many millions of 
 creatures; and the pictures I drew of our life, highly colored 
 as they were, saddened them. In vain I boasted of our great 
 men poets, philosophers, orators, generals and defied the 
 Vril-ya to produce their equals. "Alas!" said Zee, her grand 
 face softening into an angel-like compassion, "this predomi- 
 nance of the few over the many is the surest and most fatal sign.
 
 THE COMING RACE. 53 
 
 of a race incorrigibly savage. See you not that the primary 
 condition of mortal happiness consists in the extinction of that 
 strife and competition between individuals, which, no mat- 
 ter what forms of government they adopt, render the many 
 subordinate to the few, destroy real liberty to the individual, 
 whatever may be the nominal liberty of the state, and annul 
 that calm of existence, without which felicity, mental or 
 bodily, cannot be attained? Our notion is, that the more we 
 can assimilate life to the existence which our noblest ideas can 
 conceive to be that of spirits on the other side of the grave, 
 why, the more we approximate to a divine happiness here, and 
 the more easily we glide into the conditions of being hereafter. 
 For, surely, all we can imagine of the life of gods, or of 
 blessed immortals, supposes the absence of self-made cares and 
 contentious passions, such as avarice and ambition. It seems to 
 us that it must be a life of serene tranquillity, not indeed with- 
 out active occupations to the intellectual or spiritual powers, 
 but occupations, of whatsoever nature they be, congenial to the 
 idiosyncrasies of each, not forced and repugnant a life glad- 
 dened by the untrammelled interchange of gentle affections, in 
 which the moral atmosphere utterly kills hate and vengeance, 
 and strife and rivalry. Such is the political state to which 
 all the tribes and families of the Vril-ya seek to attain, and 
 towards that goal all our theories of government are shaped. 
 You see how utterly opposed is such a progress to that of the 
 uncivilized nations from which you come, and which aim at a 
 systematic perpetuity of troubles, and cares, and warring pas- 
 sions, aggravated more and more as their progress storms its way 
 onward. The most powerful of all the races in our world, 
 beyond the pale of the Vril-ya, esteems itself the best governed 
 of all political societies, and to have reached in that respect the 
 extreme end at which political wisdom can arrive, so that the 
 other nations should tend more or less to copy it. It has estab- 
 lished, on its broadest base, the Koom-Posh, viz., the govern- 
 ment of the ignorant upon the principle of being the most 
 numerous. It has placed the supreme bliss in the vying with 
 each other in all things, so that the evil passions are never in 
 repose vying for power, for wealth, for eminence of some 
 kind ; and in this rivalry it is horrible to hear the vituperation, 
 the slanders, and calumnies which even the best and mildest 
 among them heap on each other without remorse or shame." 
 
 "Some years ago," said Aph-Lin, "I visited this people, and 
 their misery and degradation were the more appalling because 
 they were always boasting of their felicity and grandeur as com-
 
 54 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 pared with the rest of their species. And there is no hope that 
 this people, which evidently resembles your own, can improve, 
 because all their notions tend to further deterioration. They 
 desire to enlarge their dominion more and more, in direct antago- 
 nism to the truth that, beyond a very limited range, it is impossi- 
 ble to secure to a community the happiness which belongs to a 
 well-ordered family; and the more they mature a system by 
 which a few individuals are heated and swollen to a size above 
 the standard slenderness of the millions, the more they chuckle 
 and exact, and cry out, 'See by what great exceptions to the 
 common littleness of our race we prove the magnificent results 
 of our system!' " 
 
 "In fact," resumed Zee, "if the wisdom of human life be to 
 approximate to the serene equality of immortals, there can be 
 no more direct flying off into the opposite direction than a sys- 
 tem which aims at carrying to the utmost the inequalities and 
 turbulences of mortals. Nor do I see how, by any forms of 
 religious belief, mortals, so acting, could fit themselves even 
 to appreciate the joys of immortals to which they still expect 
 to be transferred by the mere act of dying. On the contrary, 
 minds accustomed to place happiness in things so much the 
 reverse of godlike, would find the happiness of gods exceedingly 
 dull, and would long to get back to a world in which they 
 could quarrel with each other." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 I HAVE spoken so much of the Vril Staff that my reader may 
 expect me to describe it. This I cannot do accurately, for I 
 was never allowed to handle it for fear of some terrible accident 
 occasioned by my ignorance of its use. It is hollow, and has 
 in the handle several stops, keys, or springs by which its force 
 can be altered, modified, or directed so that by one process 
 it destroys, by another it heals; by one it can rend the rock, 
 by another disperse the vapor; by one it affects bodies, by 
 another it can exercise a certain influence over minds. It is 
 usually carried in the convenient size of a walking-staff, but it 
 has slides by which it can be lengthened or shortened at will. 
 When used for special purposes, the upper part rests in the 
 hollow of the palm, with the fore and middle fingers protruded. 
 I was assured, however, that its power was not equal in all, but 
 proportioned to the amount of certain vril properties in the 
 wearer, in affinity, or rapport, with the purposes to be effected.
 
 THE COMING RACE. 55 
 
 Some were more potent to destroy, others to heal, etc. ; much 
 also depended on the calm and steadiness of volition in the man- 
 ipulator. They assert that the full exercise of vril power can only 
 be acquired by constitutional temperament, i.e., by hereditary 
 transmitted organization, and that a female infant of four years 
 old belonging to the Vril-ya races can accomplish feats with 
 the wand placed for the first time in her hand, which a life spent 
 in its practice would not enable the strongest and most skilled 
 mechanician, born out of the pale of the Vril-ya, to achieve. 
 All these wands are not equally complicated; those entrusted 
 to children are much simpler than those born by sages of either 
 sex, and constructed with a view to the special object in which 
 the children are employed ; which, as I have before said, is 
 among the youngest children the most destructive. In the 
 wands of wives and mothers the correlative destroying force 
 is usually abstracted, the healing power fully charged. I wish 
 I could say more in detail of this singular conductor of the vril 
 fluid, but its machinery is as exquisite as its effects are marvel- 
 lous. 
 
 I should say, however, that this people have invented certain 
 tubes by which the vril fluid can be conducted towards the 
 object it is meant to destroy, throughout a distance almost 
 indefinite; at least I put it modestly when I say from 500 to 
 600 miles. And their mathematical science as applied to such 
 purpose is so nicely accurate, that on the report of some observer 
 in an air-boat, any member of the vril department can estimate 
 unerringly the nature of intervening obstacles, the height to 
 which the projectile instrument should be raised, and the ex- 
 tent to which it should be charged, so as to reduce to ashes 
 within a space of time too short for me to venture to specify it, 
 a capital twice as vast as London. 
 
 Certainly these Ana are wonderful mechanicians wonderful 
 for the adaptation of the inventive faculty to practical uses. 
 
 I went with my host and his daughter Zee over the great 
 public museum, which occupies a wing in the College of Sages, 
 and in which are hoarded, as curious specimens of the ignorant 
 and blundering experiments of ancient times, many contrivances 
 on which we pride ourselves as recent achievements. In one 
 department, carelessly thrown aside as obsolete lumber, are tubes 
 for destroying life by metallic balls and an inflammable powder, 
 on the principle of our cannons and catapults, and even still 
 more murderous than our latest improvements. 
 
 My host spoke of these with a smile of contempt, such as an 
 artillery officer might bestow on the bows and arrows ot the
 
 56 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 Chinese. In another department there were models of vehicles 
 and vessels worked by steam, and of a balloon which might 
 have been constructed by Montgolfier. "Such," said Zee, 
 with an air of meditative wisdom "such were the feeble 
 triflings with nature of our savage forefathers, ere they had 
 even a glimmering perception of the properties of vril." 
 
 This young Gy was a magnificent specimen of the muscular 
 force to which the females of her country attain. Her features 
 were beautiful, like those of all her race: never in the upper 
 world have I seen a face so grand and so faultless, but her de- 
 votion to the severer studies had given to her countenance an 
 expression of abstract thought which rendered it somewhat stern 
 when in repose; and such sternness became formidable when 
 observed in connection with her ample shoulders and lofty 
 stature. She was tall even for a Gy, and I saw her lift up a 
 cannon as easily as I could lift a pocket-pistol. Zee inspired 
 me with a profound terror a terror which increased when we 
 came into a department of the museum appropriated to models 
 of contrivances worked by the agency of vril ; for here, merely 
 by a certain play of her vril staff, she herself standing at a dis- 
 tance, she put into movement large and weighty substances. 
 She seemed to endow them with intelligence, and to maks them 
 comprehend and obey her command. She set complicated 
 pieces of machinery into movement, arrested the movement or 
 continued it, until, within an incredibly short time, various 
 kinds of raw material were produced as symmetrical works of 
 art, complete and perfect. Whatever effect mesmerism or elec- 
 tro-biology produces over the nerves and muscles of animated 
 objects, this young Gy produced by the motions of her slen- 
 der rod over the springs and wheels of lifeless mechanism. 
 
 When I mentioned to my companions my astonishment at 
 this influence over inanimate matter while owning that, in our 
 world, I had witnessed phenomena which showed that over 
 certain living organizations certain other living organizations 
 could establish an influence genuine in itself, but often exag- 
 gerated by credulity or craft, Zee, who was more interested in 
 such subjects than her father, bade me stretch forth my hand, 
 and then, placing her own beside it, she called my attention to 
 certain distinctions of type and character. In the first place, the 
 thumb of the Gy (and, as I afterwards noticed, of all that race, 
 male or female) was much larger, at once longer and more mas- 
 sive, than is found with our species above ground. There is 
 almost, in this, as great a difference as there is between the 
 thumb of a man and that of a gorilla. Secondly, the palm is
 
 THE COMING RACE. 57 
 
 proportionately thicker than ours, the texture of the skin in- 
 finitely finer and softer its average waimth is greater. More 
 remarkable than all this, is a visible nerve, perceptible under 
 the skin, which starts from the wrist, skirting the ball of the 
 thumb, and branching, fork-like, at the roots of the fore and 
 middle fingers. "With your slight formation of thumb," said 
 the philosophical young Gy, "and with the absence of the 
 nerve which you find more or less developed in the hands of 
 our race, you can never achieve other than imperfect and feeble 
 power over the agency of vril ; but so far as the nerve is con- 
 cerned, that is not found in the hands of our earliest progenitors, 
 nor in those of the ruder tribes without the pale of the Vril-ya. 
 It has been slowly developed in the course of generations, com- 
 mencing in the early achievements, and increasing with the con- 
 tinuous exercise, of the vril power; therefore, in the course of 
 one or two thousand years, such a nerve may possibly be en- 
 gendered in those higher beings of your race who devote them- 
 selves to that paramount science through which is attained 
 command over all the subtler forces of nature permeated by vril. 
 But when you talk of matter as something in itself inert and mo- 
 tionless, your parents or tutors surely cannot have left you so ig- 
 norant as not to know that no form of matter is motionless and 
 inert: every particle is constantly in motion and constantly 
 acted upon by agencies, of which heat is the most apparent and 
 rapid, but vril the most subtle, and, when skilfully wielded the 
 most powerful. So that, in fact, the current launched by my 
 hand and guided by my will does but render quicker and more 
 potent the action which is eternally at work upon every particle 
 of matter, however inert and stubborn it may seem. If a heap 
 of metal be not capable of originating a thought of its own, 
 yet, through its internal susceptibility to movement, it obtains 
 the power to receive the thought of the intellectual agent at 
 work on it: and which, when conveyed with a sufficient force 
 of the vril power, it is as much compelled to obey as if it 
 were displaced by a visible bodily force. It is animated for the 
 time being by the soul thus infused into it, so that one may 
 almost say that it lives and it reasons. Without this we could 
 not make our automata supply the place of servants." 
 
 I was too much in awe of the thews and the learning of the 
 young Gy to hazard the risk of arguing with her. I had read 
 somewhere in my schoolboy days that a wise man, disputing 
 with a Roman emperor, suddenly drew in his horns ; and when 
 the Emperor asked him whether he had nothing further to say 
 on his side of the question, replied: "Nay, Caesar, there is
 
 58 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 no arguing against a reasoner who commands twenty-five 
 legions." 
 
 Though I had a secret persuasion that, whatever the real 
 effects of vril upon matter, Mr. Faraday could have proved her 
 a very shallow philosopher as to its extent or its causes, I had 
 no doubt that Zee could have brained all the Fellows of the 
 Royal Society, one after the other, with a blow of her fist. 
 Every sensible man knows that it is useless to argue with any 
 ordinary female upon matters he comprehends; but to argue 
 with a Gy seven feet high upon the mysteries of vril as well 
 argue in a desert, and with a simoom! 
 
 Amid the various departments to which the vast building of 
 the College of Sages was appropriated, that which interested 
 me most was devoted to the archaeology of the Vril-ya, and 
 comprised a very ancient collection of portraits. In these 
 the pigments and groundwork employed were of so durable a 
 nature that even pictures said to be executed at dates as re- 
 mote as those in the earliest annals of the Chinese, retained 
 much freshness of color. In examining this collection, two 
 things especially struck me: firstly, that the pictures said to be 
 between 6000 and 7000 years old, were of a much higher de- 
 gree of art than any produced within the last 3000 or 4000 
 years: and secondly, that the portraits within the former peri- 
 od much more resembled our own upper world and European 
 types of countenance. Some of them, indeed, reminded me of 
 the Italian heads which look out from the canvas of Titian 
 speaking of ambition or craft, of care or of grief, with furrows in 
 which the passions have passed with iron ploughshare. These 
 were the countenances of men who had lived in struggle and 
 conflict before the discovery of the latent forces of vril had 
 changed the character of society men who had fought with 
 each other for power or fame as we in the upper world fight. 
 
 The type of face began to evince a marked change about 
 a thousand years after the vril revolution, becoming then, with 
 each generation, more serene, and in that serenity more terri- 
 bly distinct from the faces of laboring and sinful men; while 
 in proportion as the beauty and the grandeur of the counte- 
 nance itself became more fully developed, the art of the 
 painter became more tame and monotonous. 
 
 But the greatest curiosity in the collection was that of three 
 portraits belonging to the pre-historical age, and, according to 
 mythical tradition, taken by the orders of a philosopher, whose 
 origin and attributes were as much mixed up with symbolical 
 fable as those of an Indian Budh or a Greek Prometheus,
 
 THE COMING RACE. 59 
 
 From this mysterious personage, at once a sage and a hero, 
 all the principal sections of the Vril-ya race pretend to trace a 
 common origin. 
 
 The portraits are of the philosopher himself, of his grand- 
 father, and great-grandfather. They are all at full length. 
 The philosopher is attired in a long tunic which seems to form 
 a loose suit of scaly armor, borrowed, perhaps, from some fish 
 or reptile, but the feet and hands are exposed; the digits in 
 both are wonderfully long, and webbed. He has little or no 
 perceptible throat, and a low receding forehead, not at all the 
 ideal of a sage's. He has bright brown prominent eyes, a very 
 wide mouth and high cheek-bones, and a muddy complexion. 
 According to tradition, this philosopher had lived to a patri- 
 archal age, extending over many centuries, and he remembered 
 distinctly in middle life his grandfather as surviving, and in 
 childhood his great-grandfather; the portrait of the first he 
 had taken, or caused to be taken, while yet alive; that of the 
 latter was taken from his effigies in mummy. The portrait of 
 the grandfather had the features and aspect of the philosopher, 
 only much more exaggerated : he was not dressed, and the 
 color of his body was singular ; the breast and stomach yellow, 
 the shoulders and legs of a dull bronze hue; the great-grand- 
 father was a magnificent specimen of the Batrachian genius, a 
 Giant Frog, pur et simple. 
 
 Among the pithy sayings which, according to tradition, the 
 philosopher bequeathed to posterity in rhythmical form and 
 sententious brevity, this is notably recorded: "Humble your- 
 selves, my descendants; the father of our race was a tivat 
 (tadpole) : exalt yourselves, my descendants, for it was the 
 same Divine Thought which created your father that devel- 
 opes itself in exalting you." 
 
 Aph-Lin told me of this fable while I gazed on the three 
 Batrachian portraits. I said in reply: "You make a jest of 
 my supposed ignorance and credulity as an uneducated Tish, 
 but though these horrible daubs may be of great antiquity, and 
 were intended, perhaps, for some rude caricature, I presume 
 that none of our race, even in the less enlightened ages, ever 
 believed that the great-grandson of a frog became a sententious 
 philosopher; or that any section, I will not say of the lofty 
 Vril-ya, but of the meanest varieties of the human race, had 
 its origin in a Tadpole." 
 
 "Pardon me," answered Aph-Lin; "in what we call the 
 Wrangling or Philosophical Period of History, which was at its 
 height about seven thousand years ago, there was a very dis-
 
 60 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 tinguished naturalist, who proved to the satisfaction of numer- 
 ous disciples such analogical and anatomical agreements in 
 structure between an An and a Frog, as to show that out of the 
 one must have developed the other. They had some diseases 
 in common; they were both subject to the same parasitical 
 worms in the intestines ; and, strange to say, the An has, in 
 his structure, a swimming-bladder, no longer of any use to 
 him, but which is a rudiment that clearly proves his descent 
 from a Frog. Nor is there any argument against this theory to 
 be found in the relative difference of size, for there are still ex- 
 istent in our world Frogs of a size and stature not inferior to 
 our own, and many thousand years ago they appear to have 
 been still larger." 
 
 "I understand that," said I, "because Frogs thus enormous 
 are, according to our eminent geologists, who perhaps saw 
 them in dreams, said to have been distinguished inhabitants of 
 the upper world before the Deluge; and such Frogs are ex- 
 actly the creatures likely to have flourished in the lakes and 
 morasses of your subterranean region. But pray, proceed." 
 
 "In the Wrangling Period of History, whatever one sage 
 asserted another sage was sure to contradict. In fact, it was 
 a maxim in that age, that the human reason could only be sus- 
 tained aloft by being tossed to and fro in the perpetual motion 
 of contradiction ; and therefore another set of philosophers 
 maintained the doctrine that the An was not the descendant of 
 the Frog, but that the Frog was clearly the improved develop- 
 ment of the An. The shape of the Frog, taken generally, was 
 much more symmetrical than that of the An; beside the beau- 
 tiful conformation of its lower limbs, its flanks, and shoulders, 
 the majority of the Ana in that day were almost deformed, and 
 certainly ill-shaped. Again, the Frog had the power to live 
 alike on land and in water a mighty privilege, partaking of a 
 spiritual essence denied to the An, since the disuse of his swim- 
 ing-bladder clearly proves his degeneration from a higher de- 
 velopment of species. Again, the earlier races of the Ana 
 seem to have been covered with hair, and, even to a compara- 
 tively recent date, hirsute bushes deformed the very faces of 
 our ancestors, spreading wild over their cheeks and chin, as 
 similar bushes, my poor Tish, spread wild over yours. But the 
 object of the higher races of the Ana through countless gener- 
 ation has been to erase all vestige of connection with hairy 
 vertebrata, and they have gradually eliminated that debasing 
 capillary excrement by the law of sexual selection; the Gy-ei 
 naturally preferring youth or the beauty of smooth faces. But
 
 THE COMING RACE. 6l 
 
 the degree of the Frog in the scale of the vertebrata is shown 
 in this, that he has no hair at all, not even on his head. He 
 was born to that hairless perfection which the most beautiful of 
 the Ana, despite the culture of incalculable ages, have not yet 
 attained. The wonderful complication and delicacy of a 
 Frog's nervous system and arterial circulation were shown by 
 this school to be more susceptible of enjoyment than our infe- 
 rior, or at least simpler, physical frame allows us to be. The 
 examination of a Frog's hand, if I may use that expression, 
 accounted for its keener susceptibility to love, and to social 
 life in general. In fact, gregarious and amatory as are the 
 Ana, Frogs are still more so. In short, these two schools 
 raged against each other; one asserting the An to be the per- 
 fected type of the Frog; the other that the Frog was the high- 
 est development of the An. The moralists were divided in 
 opinion with the naturalists, but the bulk of them sided with 
 the Frog-preference school. They said, with much plausibility, 
 that in moral conduct (viz., in the adherence to rules best 
 adapted to the health and welfare of the individual and the 
 community) there could be no doubt of the vast superiority 
 of the Frog. All history showed the wholesale immorality of 
 the human race, the complete disregard, even by the most re- 
 nowned among them, of the laws which they acknowledge to 
 be essential to their own and the general happiness and well- 
 being. But the severest critic of the Frog race could not detect 
 in their manners a single aberration from the moral law tacitly 
 recognized by themselves. And what, after all, can be the 
 profit of civilization if superiority in moral conduct be not the 
 aim for which it strives, and the test by which its progress 
 should be judged? 
 
 "In fine, the adherents to this theory presumed that in some 
 remote period the Frog race had been the improved develop- 
 ment of the Human; but that, from causes which defied 
 rational conjecture, they had not maintained their original po- 
 sition in the scale of nature; while the Ana, though of inferior 
 organization, had, by dint less of their virtues than their vices, 
 such as ferocity and cunning, gradually acquiring ascendancy, 
 much as among the human race itself tribes utterly barbarous 
 have, by superiority in similar vices, utterly destroyed or re- 
 duced into insignificance tribes originally excelling them in 
 mental gifts and culture. Unhappily these disputes became 
 involved with the religious notion of that age; and as society 
 was then adminstered under the government of the Koom- 
 Posh, who, being the most ignorant, were of course the most
 
 63 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 inflammable class, the multitude took the whole question out of 
 the hands of the philosophers; political chiefs saw that the 
 Frog dispute, so taken up by the populace, could become a 
 most valuable instrument of their ambition ; and for not less 
 than one thousand years war and massacre prevailed, during 
 which period the philosophers on both sides were butchered, 
 and the government of the Koom-Posh itself was happily 
 brought to an end by the ascendancy of a family that clearly 
 established its descent from the aboriginal tadpole, and fur- 
 nished despotic rulers to the various nations of the Ana. 
 These despots finally disappeared, at least from our communi- 
 ties, as the discovery of vril led to the tranquil institutions 
 under which flourish all the races of the Vril-ya, " 
 
 "And do no wranglers or philosophers now exist to revive 
 the dispute; or do they all recognize the origin of your race in 
 the tadpole?" 
 
 "Nay, such disputes," said Zee, with a lofty smile, "belong 
 to the Pah-bodh of the dark ages, and now only serve for the 
 amusement of infants. When we know the elements out of 
 which our bodies are composed elements common to the 
 humblest vegetable plants can it signify whether the All- 
 Wise combined those elements out of one form more than an- 
 other, in order to create that in which He has placed the 
 capacity to receive the idea of Himself, and all the varied 
 grandeurs of intellect to which that idea gives birth? The 
 An in reality commenced to exist as An with the donation of 
 that capacity, and with that capacity, the sense to acknowledge 
 that, however through the countless ages his race may improve 
 in wisdom, it can never combine the elements at its command 
 into the form of a tadpole." 
 
 "You speak well, Zee," said Aph-Lin; "and it is enough for 
 us short-lived mortals to feel a reasonable assurance that 
 whether the origin of the An was a tadpole or not, he is no 
 more likely to become a tadpole again than the institutions of 
 the Vril-ya are likely to relapse into the heaving quagmire and 
 certain strife-rot of a Koom-Posh." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE Vril-ya, being excluded from all sight of the heavenly 
 bodies, and having no other difference between night and day 
 than that which they deem it convenient to make for them- 
 selves, do not, of course, arrive at their divisions of time by
 
 THE COMING RACE. 63 
 
 the same process that we do ; but I found it easy, by the aid 
 of my watch, which I luckily had about me, to compute their 
 time with great nicety. 1 reserve for a future work on the 
 science and literature of the Vril-ya, should I live to complete 
 it, all details as to the manner in which they arrive at their 
 notation of time: and content myself here with saying, that in 
 point of duration, their year differs very slightly from ours, but 
 that the divisions of their year are by no means the same. 
 Their day (including what we call night) consists of twenty 
 hours of our time, instead of twenty-four, and of course their 
 year comprises the correspondent increase in the number of 
 days by which it is summed up. They subdivide the twenty 
 hours of their day thus eight hours,* called the "Silent 
 Hours," for repose; eight hours, called the "Earnest Time," 
 for the pursuits and occupations of life; and four hours, called 
 the "Easy Time" (with which what I may term their day 
 closes), allotted to festivities, sport, recreation, or family con- 
 verse, according to their several tastes and inclinations. But 
 in truth, out of doors there is no night. They maintain, both 
 in the streets and in the surrounding country, to the limits of 
 their territory, the same degree of light at all hours. Only, 
 within doors, they lower it to a soft twilight during the Silent 
 Hours. They have a great horror of perfect darkness, and 
 their lights are never wholly extinguished. On occasions of 
 festivity they continue the duration of full light, but equally 
 keep note of the distinction between night and day, by me- 
 chanical contrivances which answer the purpose of our clocks 
 and watches. They are very fond of music; and it is by music 
 that these chronometers strike the principal division of time. 
 At every one of their hours, during their day, the sounds com- 
 ing from all the timepieces in their public buildings, and 
 caught up, as it were, by those of houses or hamlets scattered 
 amidst the landscapes without the city, have an effect singu- 
 larly sweet, and yet singularly solemn. But during the Silent 
 Hours these sounds are so subdued as to be only faintly heard 
 by a waking ear. They have no change of seasons, and, at 
 least in the territory of this tribe, the atmosphere seemed to me 
 very equable, warm as that of an Italian summer, and humid 
 rather than dry ; in the forenoon usually very still, but at times 
 invaded by strong blasts from the rocks that made the borders 
 of their domain. But time is the same to them for sowing or 
 reaping as in the Golden Isles of the ancient poets. At the 
 
 * For the sake of convenience, I adopt the woids hours, days, years, etc., in any general 
 reference to subdivisions of time among the Vril-ya those terms but loosely correspond- 
 ing, however, with such subdivisions.
 
 64 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 same moment you see the younger plants in blade or bud, the 
 older in ear or fruit. All fruit-bearing plants, however, after 
 fruitage, either shed or change the color of their leaves. But 
 that which interested me most in reckoning up their divisions 
 of time was the ascertainment of the average duration of life 
 amongst them. I found on minute inquiry that this very con- 
 siderably exceeded the term allotted to us on the upper earth. 
 What seventy years are to us, one hundred years are to them. 
 Nor is this the only advantage they have over us in longevity, 
 for as few among us attain to the age of seventy, so, on the 
 contrary, few among them die before the age of one hundred; 
 and they enjoy a general degree of health and vigor which 
 makes life itself a blessing even to the last. Various causes 
 contribute to this result : the absence of all alcoholic stimu- 
 lants; temperance in food; more especially, perhaps, a seren- 
 ity of mind undisturbed by anxious occupations and eager pas- 
 sions. They are not tormented by our avarice or our ambition; 
 they appear perfectly indifferent even to the desire of fame ; 
 they are capable of great affection, but their love shows itself 
 in a tender and cheerful complaisance, and while forming their 
 happiness, seems rarely, if ever, to constitute their woe. As 
 the Gy is sure only to marry where she herself fixes her choice, 
 and as here, not less than above ground, it is the female on 
 whom the happiness of home depends ; so the Gy, having chosen 
 the mate she prefers to all others, is lenient to his faults, con- 
 sults his humors, and does her best to secure his attachment. 
 The death of a beloved one is of course with them, as with us, 
 a cause of sorrow ; but not only is death with them so much 
 more rare before that age in which it becomes a release, but 
 when it does occur the survivor takes much more consolation 
 than, I am afraid, the generality of us do, in the certainty of 
 reunion in another and yet happier life. 
 
 All these causes, then, concur to their healthful and enjoy- 
 able longevity, though, no doubt, much also must be owing 
 to hereditary organization. According to their records, how- 
 ever, in those earlier stages of their society when they lived in 
 communities resembling ours, agitated by fierce competition, 
 their lives were considerably shorter, and their maladies more 
 numerous and grave. They themselves say that the duration 
 of life, too, has increased, and is still on the increase, since 
 their discovery of the invigorating and medicinal properties of 
 vril, applied for remedial purposes. They have few profes- 
 sional and regular practitioners of medicine, and these are 
 chiefly Gy-ei, who, especially if widowed and childless, find
 
 THE COMING RACE. 6<J 
 
 great delight in the healing art, and even undertake surgical 
 operations in those cases required by accident, or, more rarely, 
 by disease. 
 
 They have their diversions and entertainments, and, during 
 the Easy Time of their day, they are wont to assemble in great 
 numbers for those winged sports in the air which I have already 
 described. They have also public halls for music, and even 
 theatres, at which are performed pieces that appeared to me 
 somewhat to resemble the plays ot the Chinese dramas that 
 are thrown back into distant times for their events and per- 
 sonages, in which all classic unities are outrageously violated, 
 and the hero, in one scene a child, in the next is an old man, 
 and so forth. These plays are of very ancient composition. 
 They appeared to me extremely dull on the whole, but were 
 relieved by startling mechanical contrivances, a kind of farcical 
 broad humor, and detached passages of great vigor and power 
 expressed in language highly poetical, but somewhat over- 
 charged with metaphor and trope. In fine, they seemed to me 
 very much what the plays of Shakspeare seemed to a Parisian in 
 the time of Louis XV., or perhaps to an Englishman in the 
 reign of Charles II. 
 
 The audience, of which the Gy-ei constituted the chief por- 
 tion, appeared to enjoy greatly the representation of these 
 dramas, which, for so sedate and majestic a race of females, 
 surprised me, till I observed that all the performers were under 
 the age of adolescence, and conjectured truly that the mothers 
 and sisters came to please their children and brothers. 
 
 I have said that these dramas are of great antiquity. No 
 new plays, indeed no imaginative works sufficiently important to 
 survive their immediate day, appear to have been composed for 
 several generations. In fact, though there is no lack of new 
 publications, and they have even what may be called news- 
 papers, these are chiefly devoted to mechanical science, reports 
 of new inventions, announcements respecting various details of 
 business in short, to practical matters. Sometimes a child 
 writes a little tale of adventure, or a young Gy vents her amor- 
 ous hopes or fears in a poem : but these effusions are of very little 
 merit, and are seldom read except by children and maiden 
 Gy-ei. The most interesting works of a purely literary charac- 
 ter are those of explorations and travels into other regions of 
 this nether world, which are generally written by young emi- 
 grants, and are read with great avidity by the relations and 
 friends they have left behind. 
 
 I could not help expressing to Aph-Lin my surprise that a
 
 66 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 community in which mechanical science had made so marvellous 
 a progress, and in which intellectual civilization had exhibited 
 itself in realizing those objects for the happiness of the people, 
 which the political philosophers above ground had, after ages 
 of struggle, pretty generally agreed to consider unattainable 
 visions, should, nevertheless, be so wholly without a contempo- 
 raneous literature, despite the excellence to which culture had 
 brought a language at once rich and simple, vigorous and 
 musical. 
 
 My host replied: "Do you not perceive that a literature 
 such as you mean would be wholly incompatible with that per- 
 fection of social or political felicity at which you do us the 
 honor to think we have arrived? We have at last, after cen- 
 turies of struggle, settled into a form of government with which 
 we are content, and in which, as we allow no differences of 
 rank, and no honors are paid to administrators distinguishing 
 them from others, there is no stimulus given to individual am- 
 bition. No one would read works advocating theories that in- 
 volved any political or social change, and therefore no one 
 writes them. If now and then an An feels himself dissatisfied 
 with our tranquil mode of life, he does not attack it ; he goes 
 away. Thus all that part of literature (and to judge by the 
 ancient books in our public libraries, it was once a very large 
 part) which relates to speculative theories on society is become 
 utterly extinct. Again, formerly there was a vast deal written 
 respecting the attributes and essence of the All-Good, and the 
 arguments for and against a future state ; but now we all rec- 
 ognize two facts, that there is a Divine Being, and there is a 
 future state, and we all equally agree that if we wrote our fin- 
 gers to the bone, we could not throw any light upon the nature 
 and conditions of that future state, or quicken our apprehen- 
 sions of the attributes and essence of that Divine Being. Thus 
 another part of literature has become also extinct, happily for 
 our race ; for in the times when so much was written on sub- 
 jects which no one could determine, people seemed to live in a 
 perpetual state of quarrel and contention. So, too, a vast part 
 of our ancient literature consists of historical records of wars 
 and revolutions during the times when the Ana lived in large 
 and turbulent societies, each seeking aggrandizement at the 
 expense of the other. You see our serene mode of life now ; 
 such it has been for ages. We have no events to chronicle. 
 What more of us can be said than that 'they were born, they 
 were happy, they died '? Coming next to that part of litera- 
 ture which is more under the control of the imagination, such
 
 THE COMING RACE. 67 
 
 as what we call Glaubsila, or colloquially 'Glaubs,' and you 
 call poetry, the reasons for its decline amongst us are abun- 
 dantly obvious. 
 
 "We find, by referring to the great masterpieces in that de- 
 partment of literature which we all still read with pleasure, but 
 of which none would tolerate imitations, that they consist in the 
 portraiture of passions which we no longer experience ambi- 
 tion, vengeance, unhallowed love, the thirst for warlike renown, 
 and such like. The old poets lived in an atmosphere impreg- 
 nated with these passions, and felt vividly what they expressed 
 glowingly. No one can express such passions now, for no one 
 can feel them, or meet with any sympathy in his readers if he 
 did. Again, the old poetry has a main element in its dissection 
 of those complex mysteries of human character which conduce 
 to abnormal vices and crimes, or lead to signal and extraor- 
 dinary virtues. But our society, having got rid of tempta- 
 tions to any prominent vices and crimes, has necessarily ren- 
 dered the moral average so equal, that there are no very salient 
 virtues. Without its ancient food of strong passions, vast 
 crimes, heroic excellences, poetry therefore, is, if not actually 
 starved to death, reduced to a very meagre diet. There is still 
 the poetry of description description of rocks, and trees, and 
 waters, and common household life; and our young Gy-ei 
 weave much of this insipid kind of composition into their love 
 verses." 
 
 "Such poetry," said I, "might surely be made very charm- 
 ing; and we have critics amongst us who consider it a higher 
 kind than that which depicts the crimes, or analyzes the pas- 
 sions, of man. At all events, poetry of the insipid kind you 
 mention is a poetry that nowadays commands more read- 
 ers than any other among the people I have left above 
 ground." 
 
 "Possibly; but then I suppose the writers take great pains 
 with the language they employ, and devote themselves to the 
 culture and polish of words and rhythms as an art?" 
 
 "Certainly they do: all great poets must do that. Though 
 the gift of poetry may be inborn, the gift requires as much care 
 to make it available as a block of metal does to be made into 
 one of your engines." 
 
 "And doubtless your poets have some incentive to bestow 
 all those pains upon such verbal prettinesses?" 
 
 "Well, I presume their instinct of song would make them 
 sing as the bird does ; but to cultivate the song into verbal or 
 artificial prettiness, probably does not need an inducement
 
 63 THE COMING RACfc. 
 
 from without, and our poets find it in the love of fame per* 
 haps, now and then, in the want of money." 
 
 "Precisely so. But in our society we attach fame to noth- 
 ing which man, in that moment of his duration which is 
 called 'life,' can perform. We should soon lose that equality 
 which constitutes the felicitous essence of our commonwealth 
 if we selected any individual for pre-eminent praise: pre- 
 eminent praise would confer pre-eminent power, and the mo- 
 ment it were given, evil passions, now dormant, would awake ; 
 other men would immediately covet praise, then would arise 
 envy, and with envy hate, and with hate calumny and persecu- 
 tion. Our history tells us that most of the poets and most of 
 the writers who, in the old time, were favored with the greatest 
 praise, were also assailed by the greatest vituperation, and 
 even, on the whole, rendered very unhappy, partly by the 
 attacks of jealous rivals, partly by the diseased mental consti- 
 tution which an acquired sensitiveness to praise and to blame 
 tends to engender. As for the stimulus of want ; in the first 
 place, no man in our community knows the goad of poverty; 
 and, secondly, if he did, almost every occupation would be 
 more lucrative than writing. 
 
 "Our public libraries contain all the books of the past which 
 time has preserved ; those books, for the reasons above stated, 
 are infinitely better than any can write nowadays, and they are 
 open to all to read without cost. We are not such fools as to 
 pay for reading inferior books, when we can read superior 
 books for nothing." 
 
 "With us, novelty has an attraction; and a new book, if 
 bad, is read when an old book, though good, is neglected." 
 
 "Novelty, to barbarous states of society struggling in de- 
 spair for something better, has no doubt an attraction, denied 
 to us, who see nothing to gain in novelties ; but, after all, it is 
 observed by one of our great authors four thousand years ago, 
 that 'he who studies old books will always find in them some- 
 thing new, and he who reads new books will always find in 
 them something old.' But to return to the question you have 
 raised, there being then among us no stimulus to painstaking 
 labor, whether in desire of fame or in pressure of want, such 
 as have the poetic temperament, no doubt, vent it in song, as 
 you say the bird sings ; but for lack of elaborate culture it fails 
 of an audience, and, failing of an audience, dies out, of itself, 
 amidst the ordinary avocations of life." 
 
 "But how is it that these discouragements to the cultivation 
 f literature do not operate against that of science?"
 
 THE COMING RACE. 69 
 
 "Your question amazes me. The motive to science is the 
 love of truth apart from all consideration of fame, and science 
 with us too is devoted almost solely to practical uses, essential 
 to our social conservation and the comforts of our daily life. 
 No fame is asked by the inventor, and none is given to him ; 
 he enjoys an occupation congenial to his tastes, and needing no 
 wear and tear of the passions. Man must have exercise for his 
 mind as well as body; and continuous exercise, rather than 
 violent, is best for both.. Our most ingenious cultivators of 
 science are, as a general rule, the longest lived and the most 
 free from disease. Painting is an amusement to many, but the 
 art is not what it was in former times, when the great painters 
 in our various communities vied with each other for the prize 
 of a golden crown, which gave them a social rank equal to that 
 of the kings under whom they lived. You will thus doubtless 
 have observed in our archaeological department how superior 
 in point of art the pictures were several thousand years ago. 
 Perhaps it is because music is, in reality, more allied to 
 science than it is to poetry, that, of all the pleasurable arts, 
 music is that which flourishes the most amongst us. Still, 
 even in music the absence of stimulus in praise or fame has 
 served to prevent any great superiority of one individual over 
 another; and we rather excel in choral music, with the aid of 
 our vast mechanical instruments, in which we make great use of 
 the agency of water,* than in single performers. We have had 
 scarcely any original composer for some ages. Our favorite 
 airs a'd very ancient in substance, but have admitted many 
 complicated variations by inferior, though ingenious, mu- 
 sicians." 
 
 "Are there no political societies among the Ana which are 
 animated by those passions, subjected to those crimes, and ad- 
 mitting those disparities in condition, in intellect, and in mo- 
 rality, which the state of your tribe, or indeed of the Vril-ya 
 generally, has left behind in its progress to perfection? If so, 
 among such societies perhaps Poetry and her sister arts still 
 continue to be honored and to improve?" 
 
 "There are such societies in remote regions but we do not 
 admit them within the pale of civilized communities ; we 
 scarcely even give them the name of Ana, and certainly not 
 that of Vril-ya. They are barbarians, living chiefly in that 
 low stage of being, Koom-Posh, tending necessarily, to its own 
 
 * This may remind the student of Nero's invention of a musical machine, by which 
 water was made to perform the part of an orchestra, and on which he was employed when 
 the conspiracy against him broke out.
 
 70 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 hideous dissolution in Glek-Nas. Their wretched existence is 
 passed in perpetual contest and perpetual change. When they 
 do not fight with their neighbors, they fight among themselves. 
 They are divided into sections, which abuse, plunder, and 
 sometimes murder each other, and on the most frivolous points 
 of difference that would be unintelligible to us if we had not 
 read history, and seen that we too have passed through the same 
 early state of ignorance and barbarism. Any trifle is sufficient 
 to set them together by the ears. They pretend to be all equals, 
 and the more they have struggled to be so, by removing old 
 distinctions and starting afresh, the more glaring and intolerable 
 the disparity becomes, because nothing in hereditary affections 
 and associations is left to soften the one naked distinction be- 
 tween the many who have nothing and the few who have much. 
 Of course the many hate the few, but without the few they 
 could not live. The many are always assailing the few ; some- 
 times they exterminate the few; but as soon as they have done 
 so, a new few starts out of the many, and is harder to deal with 
 than the old few. For where societies are large, and competi- 
 tion to have something is the predominant fever, there must be 
 always many losers and few gainers. In short, the people I 
 speak of are savages groping their way in the dark towards 
 some gleam of light, and would demand our commiseration for 
 their infirmities, if, like all savages, they did not provoke their 
 own destruction by their arrogance and cruelty. Can you im- 
 agine that creatures of this kind, armed only with such miser- 
 able weapons as you may see in our museum of antiquities, 
 clumsy iron tubes charged with saltpetre, have more than once 
 threatened with destruction a tribe of the Vril-ya, which dwells 
 nearest to them, because they say they have thirty millions of 
 population and that tribe may have fifty thousand if the 
 latter do not accept their notions of Soc-Sec (money-getting) 
 on some trading principles which they have the impudence to 
 call a 'law of civilization'?" 
 
 "But thirty millions of population are formidable odds 
 against fifty thousand!" 
 
 My host stared at me astonished. "Stranger," said he, 
 "you could not have heard me say that this threatened tribe 
 belongs to the Vril-ya; and it only waits for these savages to 
 declare war, in order to commission some half a dozen small 
 children to sweep away their whole population." 
 
 At these words I felt a thrill of horror, recognizing much 
 more affinity with "the savages," than I did with the Vril-ya, 
 and remembering all I had said in praise of the glorious Ameri<-
 
 THE COMING RACE. ft 
 
 can institutions, which Aph-Lin stigmatized as Koom-Posh. 
 Recovering my self-possession, I asked if there were modes of 
 transit by which I could safely visit this temerarious and re- 
 mote people. 
 
 "You can travel with safety, by vril agency, either along the 
 ground or amid the air, throughout all the range of the com- 
 munities with which we are allied and akin; but I cannot 
 vouch for your safety in barbarous nations governed by differ- 
 ent laws from ours ; nations, indeed, so benighted that there 
 are among them large numbers who actually live by stealing 
 from each other, and one could not with safety in the Silent 
 Hours even leave the doors of one's own house open." 
 
 Here our conversation was interrupted by the entrance of 
 Tae, who came to inform us that he, having been deputed to 
 discover and destroy the enormous reptile which I had seen on 
 my first arrival, had been on the watch for it ever 'since his 
 visit to me, and had begun to suspect that my eyes had deceived 
 me, or that the creature had made its way through the cavities 
 within the rocks to the wild regions in which dwelt its kindred 
 race, when it gave evidences of its whereabouts by a great devas- 
 tation of the herbage bordering one of the lakes. "And" said 
 Tae, "I feel sure that within that lake it is now hiding. So 
 (turning to me) I thought it might amuse you to accompany me 
 to see the way we destroy such unpleasant visitors." As I 
 looked at the face of the young child, and called to mind the 
 enormous size of the creature he proposed to exterminate, I felt 
 myself shudder with fear for him, and perhaps fear for myself, 
 if I accompanied him in such a chase. But my curiosity to 
 witness the destructive effects of the boasted vril, and my un- 
 willingness to lower myself in the eyes of an infant by betray- 
 ing apprehensions of personal safety, prevailed over my first 
 impulse. Accordingly, I thanked Tae for his courteous con- 
 sideration for my amusement, and professed my willingness to 
 set out with him on so diverting an enterprise. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 As Tae and myself, on quitting the town, and leaving to the 
 left the main road which led to it, struck into the fields, the 
 strange and solemn beauty of the landscape, lighted up, by 
 numberless lamps, to the verge of the horizon, fascinated my 
 eyes and rendered me for some time an inattentive listener to 
 the talk of my companion. 
 
 Along our way various operations of agriculture were being
 
 f* THE COMING RACE. 
 
 carried on by machinery, the forms of which were new to me, 
 and for the most part very graceful ; for among these people 
 art being so cultivated for the sake of mere utility exhibits 
 itself in adorning or refining the shapes of useful objects. 
 Precious metals and gems are so profuse among them that 
 they are lavished on things devoted to purposes the most com- 
 monplace ; and their love of utility leads them to beautify its 
 tools, and quickens their imagination in a way unknown to 
 themselves. 
 
 In all service, whether in or out of doors, they make great 
 use of automaton figures, which are so ingenious, and so pliant 
 to the operations of vril, that they actually seem gifted with 
 reason. It was scarcely possible to distinguish the figures I be- 
 held, apparently guiding or superintending the rapid movement 
 of vast engines, from human forms endowed with thought. 
 
 By degrees, as we continued to walk on, my attention became 
 roused by the lively and acute remarks of my companion. The 
 intelligence of the children among this race is marvellously 
 precocious, perhaps from the habit of having entrusted to 
 them, at so early an age, the toils and responsibilities of middle 
 age. Indeed, in conversing with Tae, I felt as if talking with 
 some superior and observant man of my own years. I asked him 
 if he could form any estimate of the number of communities 
 into which the race of the Vril-ya is subdivided. 
 
 "Not exactly," he said, "because they multiply, of course, 
 every year as the surplus of each community is drafted off. 
 But I heard my father say that, according to the last report, 
 there were a million and a half of communities speaking our 
 language, and adopting our institutions and forms of life and 
 government ; but, I believe, with some differences, about which 
 you had better ask Zee. She knows more than most of the 
 Ana do. An An cares less for things that do not concern 
 him than a Gy does; the Gy-ei are inquisitive creatures." 
 
 "Does each community restrict itself to the same number of 
 families or amount of population that you do?" 
 
 "No; some have much smaller populations, some have 
 larger varying according to the extent of the country they ap- 
 propriate, or to the degree of excellence to which they have 
 brought their machinery. Each community sets its own limit ac- 
 cording to circumstances, taking care always that there shall 
 never arise any class of poor by the pressure of population upon 
 the productive powers of the domain, and that no state shall be 
 too large for a government resembling that of a single well- 
 prdered family. I imagine that no Vril community exceeds thir-
 
 THE CODING RACE. 73 
 
 ty thousand households. But, as a general rule, the smaller the 
 community, provided there be hands enough to do justice to 
 the capacities of the territory it occupies, the richer each indi- 
 vidual is, and the larger the sum contributed to the general 
 treasury, above all, the happier and the more tranquil is the 
 whole political body and the more perfect the products of its 
 industry. The state which all tribes of the Vril-ya acknowl- 
 edge to be the highest in civilization, and which has brought 
 the vril force to its fullest development, is perhaps the smallest. 
 It limits itself to four thousand families ; but every inch of its 
 territory is cultivated to the utmost perfection of garden ground ; 
 its machinery excels that of every other tribe ; and there is no 
 product of its industry in any department which is not sought 
 for at extraordinary prices, by each community of our race. 
 All our tribes make this state their model, considering that we 
 should reach the highest state of civilization allowed to mor- 
 tals if we could unite the greatest degree of happiness with the 
 highest degree of intellectual achievement; and it is clear that 
 the smaller the society the less difficult that will be. Ours is 
 too large for it." 
 
 This reply set me thinking. I reminded myself of that little 
 state of Athens, with only twenty thousand free citizens, and 
 which to this day our mightiest nations regard as the supreme 
 guide and model in all departments of intellect. But then Athens 
 permitted fierce rivalry and perpetual change, and was cer- 
 tainly not happy. Rousing myself from the revery into which 
 these reflections had plunged me, I brought back our talk to 
 the subjects connected with emigration. 
 
 "But," said I, "when, I suppose yearly, a certain number 
 among you agree to quit home and found a new community else- 
 where, they must necessarily be very few, and scarcely sufficient, 
 even with the help of the machines they take with them, to 
 clear the ground and build towns, and form a civilized 
 state with the comforts and luxuries in which they had been 
 reared." 
 
 ' 'You mistake. All the tribes of the Vril-ya are in constant 
 communication with each other, and settle amongst themselves 
 each year what proportion of one community will unite with the 
 emigrants of another so as to form a state of sufficient size: 
 and the place for emigration is agreed upon at least a year be- 
 fore, and pioneers sent from each state to level rocks, and em- 
 bank waters, and construct houses ; so that when the emigrants 
 at last go, they find a city already made, and a country around 
 it at least partially cleared. Our hardy life as children makes
 
 >J4 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 us take cheerfully to travel and adventure. I mean to emigrate 
 myself when of age." 
 
 "Do the emigrants always select places hitherto uninhabited 
 and barren?" 
 
 "As yet generally, because it is our rule never to destroy ex- 
 cept where necessary to our well-being. Of course, we cannot 
 settle in lands already occupied by the Vril-ya; and if we take 
 the cultivated lands of the other races of Ana, we must utterly 
 destroy the previous inhabitants. Sometimes, as it is, we take 
 waste spots, and find that a troublesome, quarrelsome race of 
 Ana, especially if under the administration of Koom-Posh or 
 Glek-Nas, resents our vicinity, and picks a quarrel with us; 
 then, of course, as menacing our welfare, we destroy it: there 
 is no coming to terms of peace with a race so idiotic that it is 
 always changing the form of government which represents it. 
 Koom-Posh," said the child emphatically, "is bad enough, 
 still it has brains, though at the back of its head, and is not 
 without a heart ; but in Glek-Nas the brain and heart of the 
 creatures disappear, and they become all jaws, claws, and belly." 
 
 "You express yourself strongly. Allow me to inform you 
 that I myself, and I am proud to say it, am the citizen of a 
 Koom-Posh." 
 
 "I no longer," answered Tae, "wonder to see you here so 
 far from your home. What was the condition of your native 
 community before it became a Koom-Posh?" 
 
 "A settlement of emigrants like those settlements which 
 your tribe sends forth but so far unlike your settlements, that 
 it was dependent on the state from which it came. It shook 
 off that yoke, and, crowned with eternal glory, became a Koom- 
 Posh." 
 
 "Eternal glory! how long has the Koom-Posh lasted?" 
 
 "About 100 years." 
 
 "The length of an An's life a very young community. In 
 much less than another 100 years your Koom-Posh will be a 
 Glek-Nas." 
 
 "Nay, the oldest states in the world I come from have such 
 faith in its duration, that they are all gradually shaping their 
 institutions so as to melt into ours; and their most thoughtful 
 politicians say that, whether they like it or not, the inevitable 
 tendency of these old states is towards Koom-Posh-erie." 
 
 "The old states?" 
 
 "Yes, the old states." 
 
 "With populations very small in proportion to the area of 
 productive land?"
 
 THE COMING RACE. 7$ 
 
 "On the contrary, with populations very large in proportion 
 to that area." 
 
 "I see! old states indeed! so old as to become drivelling if 
 they don't pack off that surplus population as we do ours very 
 old states! very, very old! Pray, Tish, do you think it wise 
 for very old men to try to turn head-over-heels as very young 
 children do? And if you asked them why they attempted such 
 antics, should you not laugh if they answered that by imitating 
 very young children they could become very young children 
 themselves? Ancient history abounds with instances of this 
 sort a great many thousand years ago and in every instance 
 a very old state that played at Koom-Posh soon tumbled into 
 Glek-Nas. Then, in horror of its own self it cried out for a 
 master, as an old man in his dotage cries out for a nurse ; and 
 after a succession of masters or nurses, more or less long, that 
 very old state died out of history. A very old state attempting 
 Koom-Posh-erie is like a very old man who pulls down the 
 house to which he has been accustomed, but he has so exhausted 
 his vigor in pulling down that all he can do in the way of re- 
 building is to run up a crazy hut, in which himself and his suc- 
 cessors whine out, 'How the wind blows! How the walls shake!'" 
 
 "My dear Tae, I make all excuse for your unenlightened 
 prejudices, which every schoolboy educated in a Koom-Posh 
 could easily controvert, though he might not be so precociously 
 learned in ancient history as you appear to be." 
 
 "I learned! not a bit of it. But would a schoolboy educated 
 in your Koom-Posh ask his great-great-grandfather or great- 
 great-grandmother to stand on his or her head with the feet 
 uppermost? and if the poor old folks hesitated say, 'What 
 do you fear? see how I do it!' ' 
 
 "Tae, I disdain to argue with a child of your age. I repeat, 
 I make allowances for your want of that culture which a Koom- 
 Posh alone can bestow." 
 
 "I in my turn," answered Tae, with an air of the suave 
 but lofty good breeding which characterizes his race, "not 
 only make allowances for you as not educated among the Vril- 
 ya, but I entreat you to vouchsafe me your pardon for insuffi- 
 cient respect to the habits and opinions of so amiable a 
 Tish!" 
 
 I ought before to have observed that I was commonly called 
 Tish by my host and his family, as being a polite and indeed 
 a pet name, metaphorically signifying a small barbarian, literal- 
 ly a Froglet; the children apply it endearingly to the tame 
 species of Frog which they keep in their gardens.
 
 ^6 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 We had now reached the banks of a lake, and Tae here 
 paused to point out to me the ravages made in fields skirting it. 
 "The enemy certainly lies within these waters," said Tae. 
 "Observe what shoals of fish are crowded together at the mar- 
 gin. Even the great fishes with the small ones, who are their 
 habitual prey and who generally shun them, all forget their 
 instincts in the presence of a common destroyer. This reptile 
 certainly must belong to the class of the Krek-a, a class more 
 devouring than any other, and said to be among the few sur- 
 viving species of the world's dreadest inhabitants before the 
 Ana were created. The appetite of a Krek is insatiable it 
 feeds alike upon vegetable and animal life ; but for the swift- 
 footed creatures of the elk species it is too slow in its move- 
 ments. Its favorite dainty is an An when it can catch him 
 unawares ; and hence the Ana destroy it relentlessly whenever 
 it enters their dominion. I have heard that when our fore- 
 fathers first cleared this country, these monsters, and others like 
 them, abounded, and, vril being then undiscovered, many of 
 our race were devoured. It was impossible to exterminate them 
 wholly till that discovery which constitutes the power and sus- 
 tains the civilization of our race. But after the uses of vril 
 became familiar to us, all creatures inimical to us were soon 
 annihilated. Still, once a year or so, one of these enormous 
 reptiles wanders from the unreclaimed and savage districts be- 
 yond, and within my memory one seized upon a young Gy who 
 was bathing in this very lake. Had she been on land and 
 armed with her staff it would not have dared even to show itself; 
 for, like all savage creatures, the reptile has a marvellous in- 
 stinct, which warns it against the bearer of the vril wand. 
 How they teach their young to avoid him, though seen for 
 the first time, is one of those mysteries which you may ask 
 Zee to explain, for I cannot.* So long as I stand here, the 
 monster will not stir from its lurking-place ; but we must now 
 decoy it forth." 
 
 "Will not that be difficult?" 
 
 "Not at all. Seat yourself yonder on that crag (about one 
 hundred yards from the bank), while I retire to a distance. In 
 a short time the reptile will catch sight or scent of you, and, 
 perceiving that you are no vril-bearer, will come forth to de- 
 vour you. As soon as it is fairly out of the water, it becomes 
 my prey." 
 
 * The reptile in this instinct does but resemble our wild birds and animals, which will 
 not come in reach of a man armed with a gun. When the electric wires were first put up. 
 partridges struck against them in their flight, and fell down wounded. No younger gen. 
 ersuio ">s of partridges meet with a similar accident.
 
 THE COMING RACE. ft 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that I am to be the decoy to that 
 horrible monster which could engulf me within its jaws in a 
 second! I beg to decline. " 
 
 The child laughed. "Fear nothing," said he; "only sit still." 
 
 Instead of obeying this command, I made a bound, and was 
 about to take fairly to my heels, when Tae touched me lightly 
 on the shoulder, and fixing his eyes steadily on mine, I was 
 rooted to the spot. All power of volition left me. Submissive 
 to the infant's gesture, I followed him to the crag he had indi- 
 cated, and seated myself there in silence. Most readers have 
 seen something of the effects of electro-biology, whether genuine 
 or spurious. No professor of that doubtful craft had ever been 
 able to influence a thought or a movement of mine, but I was 
 a mere machine at the wil of this terrible child. Meanwhile 
 he expanded his wings, soared aloft, and alighted amidst a copse 
 at the brow of a hill at some distance. 
 
 I was alone ; and turning my eyes with an indescribable sensa- 
 tion of horror towards the lake, I kept them fixed on its water, 
 spellbound. It might be ten or fifteen minutes, to me it seemed 
 ages, before the still surface, gleaming under the lamplight, be- 
 gan to be agitated towards the centre. At the same time the 
 shoals of fish near the margin evinced their sense of the enemy's 
 approach by splash and leap and bubbling circle. I could de- 
 tect their hurried flight hither and thither, some even casting 
 themselves ashore. A long, dark, undulous furrow came mov- 
 ing along the waters, nearer and nearer, till the vast head of 
 the reptile emerged its jaws bristling with fangs, and its dull 
 eyes fixing themselves hungrily on the spot where I sat motion- 
 less. And now its fore-feet were on the strand now its enor- 
 mous breast, scaled on either side as in armor, in the centre 
 showing corrugated skin of a dull venomous yellow ; and now 
 its whole length was on the land, a hundred feet or more from 
 the jaw to the tail. Another stride of those ghastly feet would 
 have brought it to the spot where I sat. There was but a mo- 
 ment between me and this grim form of death, when what 
 seemed a flash of lightning shot through the air, smote, and, 
 for a space in time briefer than that in which a man can draw 
 his breath, enveloped the monster ; and then, as the flash van- 
 ished, there lay before me a blackened, charred, smouldering 
 mass, a something gigantic, but of which even the outlines of 
 form were burned away, and rapidly crumbling into dust and 
 ashes. I remained still seated, still speechless, ice-cold with a 
 new sensation of dread : what had been horror was now awe. 
 
 I felt the child's hand on my head fear left me the spell
 
 J& THE COMING RACE. 
 
 was broken I rose up. "You see with what ease the Vril-ya 
 destroy their enemies," said Tae; and then, moving towards 
 the bank, he contemplated the smouldering relics of the mon- 
 ster, and said quietly "I have destroyed larger creatures, but 
 none with so much pleasure. Yes, it is a. Krek; what suffer- 
 ing it must have inflicted while it lived!" Then he lookup 
 the poor fishes that had flung themselves ashore and restored 
 them mercifully to their native element. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 As we walked back to the town, Tae took a new and cir- 
 cuitous way, in order to show me what, to use a familiar term, 
 I will call the "Station," from which emigrants or travellers 
 to other communities commence their journeys. I had, on a 
 former occasion, expressed a wish to see their vehicles. These 
 I found to be of two kinds, one for land-journeys, one for 
 aerial voyages: the former were of all sizes and forms, some not 
 larger than an ordinary carriage, some movable houses of one 
 story and containing several rooms, furnished according to th> 
 ideas of comfort or luxury which are entertained by the Vril-ya. 
 The aerial vehicles were of light substances, not the least re- 
 sembling our balloons, but rather our boats and pleasure- 
 vessels, with helm and rudder, with large wings as paddles, and 
 a central machine worked by vril. All the vehicles both for 
 land or air were indeed worked by that potent and mysterious 
 agency. 
 
 I saw a convoy set out on its journey, but it had few passen- 
 gers, containing chiefly articles of merchandise, and was bound 
 to a neighboring community; for among all the tribes of the 
 Vril-ya there is considerable commercial interchange. I may 
 here observe that their money currency does not consist of the 
 precious metals, which are too common among them for that 
 purpose. The smaller coins in ordinary use are manufactured 
 from a peculiar fossil shell, the comparatively scarce remnant 
 of some very early deluge, or other convulsion of nature, by 
 which a species has become extinct. It is minute, and flat as 
 an oyster, and takes a jewel-like polish. This coinage circu- 
 lates among all the tribes of the Vril-ya. Their larger transac- 
 tions are carried on much like ours, by bills of exchange, and 
 thin metallic plates which answer the purpose of our banknotes. 
 
 Let me take this occasion of adding that the taxation among 
 the tribe I became acquainted with was very considerable, 
 compared with the amount of population. But I never heard
 
 THE COMING RACE. 79 
 
 that any one grumbled at it, for it was devoted to purposes of 
 universal utility, and indeed necessary to the civilization of the 
 tribe. The cost of lighting so large a range of country, of pro- 
 viding for emigration, of maintaining the public buildings at 
 which the various operations of national intellect were carried 
 on, from the first education of an infant to the departments to 
 which the College of Sages were perpetually trying new experi- 
 ments in mechanical science all these involved the necessity 
 for considerable state funds. To these I must add an item 
 that struck me as very singular. I have said that all the human 
 labor required by the state is carried on by children up to the 
 marriageable age. For this labor the state pays, and at a rate 
 immeasurably higher than our remuneration to labor even in 
 the United States. According to their theory, every child, 
 male or female, on attaining the marriageable age, and there 
 terminating the period of labor, should have acquired enough 
 for an independent competence during life. As, no matter 
 what the disparity of fortune in the parents, all the children 
 must equally serve, so all are equally paid according to their 
 several ages or the nature of their work. When the parents or 
 friends choose to retain a child in their own service, they must 
 pay into the public fund in the same ratio as the state pays to 
 the children it employs ; and this sum is handed over to the 
 child when the period of service expires. This practice serves, 
 no doubt, to render the notion of social equality familiar and 
 agreeable ; and if it may be said that all the children form a 
 democracy, no less truly it may be said that all the adults form 
 an aristocracy. The exquisite politeness and refinement of 
 manners among the Vril-ya, the generosity of their sentiments, 
 the absolute leisure they enjoy for following out their own pri- 
 vate pursuits, the amenities of their domestic intercourse, in 
 which they seem as members of one noble order that can have 
 no distrust of each other's word or deed, all combine to make 
 the Vril-ya the most perfect nobility which a political disciple of 
 Plato or Sidney could conceive for the ideal of an aristocratic 
 republic. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FROM the date of the expedition with Tae which I have just 
 narrated, the child paid me frequent visits. He had taken a 
 liking to me, which I cordially returned. Indeed, as he was 
 not yet twelve years old, and had not commenced the course 
 of scientific studies with which childhood closes in that country,
 
 go THE COMING RACE. 
 
 my intellect was less inferior to his than to that of the elder 
 members of his race, especially of the Gy-ei, and most especial- 
 ly of the accomplished Zee. The children of the Vril-ya, hav- 
 ing upon their minds the weight of so many active duties and 
 grave responsibilities, are not generally mirthful ; but Tae, with 
 all his wisdom, had much of the playful good-humor one often 
 finds the characteristic of elderly men of genius. He felt that 
 sort of pleasure in my society which a boy of a similar age in 
 the upper world has in the company of a pet dog or monkey. 
 It amused him to try and teach me the ways of his people, as it 
 amuses a nephew of mine to make his poodle walk on his hind 
 legs or jump through a hoop. I willingly lent myself to such 
 experiments, but I never achieved the success of the poodle. I 
 was very much interested at first in the attempt to ply the 
 wings which the youngest of the Vril-ya use as nimbly and easily 
 as ours do their legs and arms; but my efforts were attended 
 with contusions serious enough to make me abandon them in 
 despair. 
 
 The wings, as I before said, are very large, reaching to the 
 knee, and in repose thrown back so as to form a very graceful 
 mantle. They are composed from the feathers of a gigantic 
 bird that abounds in the rocky heights of the country the 
 color mostly white, but sometimes with reddish streaks. They 
 are fastened round the shoulders with light but strong springs 
 of steel; and, when expanded, the arms slide through loops for 
 that purpose, forming, as it were, a stout central membrane. 
 As the arms are raised, a tubular lining beneath the vest or 
 tunic becomes, by mechanical contrivance, inflated with air, 
 increased or diminished at will by the movement of the arms, 
 and serving to buoy the whole form as on bladders. The 
 wings and the balloon-like apparatus are highly charged with 
 vril ; and when the body is thus wafted upward, it seems to 
 become singularly lightened of its weight. I found it easy 
 enough to soar from the ground ; indeed, when the wings were 
 spread it was scarcely possible not to soar, but then came the 
 difficulty and the danger. I utterly failed in the power to use 
 and direct the pinions, though I am considered among my own 
 race unusually alert and ready in bodily exercises, and am a 
 very practised swimmer. I could only make the most confused 
 and blundering efforts at flight. I was the servant of the 
 wings ; the wings were not my servants they were beyond my 
 control ; and when by a violent strain of muscle, and, I must 
 fairly own, in that abnormal strength which is given by exces- 
 sive fright, I curbed their gyrations and brought them near to
 
 THE COMING RACE. 8t 
 
 the body, it seemed as if I lost the sustaining power stored in 
 them and the connecting bladders, as when air is let out of a 
 balloon, and found myself precipitated again to earth ; saved, 
 indeed, by some spasmodic flutterings, from being dashed to 
 pieces, but not saved from the bruises and the stun of a heavy 
 fall. I would, however, have persevered in my attempts, but 
 for the advice or the commands of the scientific Zee, who had 
 benevolently accompanied my flutterings, and, indeed, on the 
 last occasion, flying just under me, received my form as it fell 
 on her own expanded wings, and preserved me from breaking 
 my head on the roof of the pyramid from which we had 
 ascended. 
 
 "I see," she said, "that your trials are in vain, not from the 
 fault of the wings and their appurtenances, nor from any im- 
 perfectness and malformation of your own corpuscular system, 
 but from irremediable, because organic, defect in your power 
 of volition. Learn that the connection between the will and 
 the agencies of that fluid which has been subjected to the con- 
 trol of the Vril-ya was never established by the first discover- 
 ers, never achieved by a single generation ; it has gone on in- 
 creasing, like other properties of race, in proportion as it has 
 been uniformly transmitted from parent to child, so that, at 
 last, it has become an instinct; and an infant An of our race 
 wills to fly as intuitively and unconsciously as he wills to walk. 
 He thus plies his invented or artificial wings with as much 
 safety as a bird plies those with which it is born. I did not 
 think sufficiently of this when I allowed you to try an experi- 
 ment which allured me, for I longed to have in you a compan- 
 ion. I shall abandon the experiment now. Your life is becom- 
 ing dear to me." Herewith the Gy's voice and face softened, 
 and I felt more seriously alarmed than I had been in my pre- 
 vious flights. 
 
 Now that I am on the subject of wings, I ought not to omit 
 mention of a custom among the Gy-ei which seems to me very 
 pretty and tender in the sentiment it implies. A Gy wears wings 
 habitually while yet a virgin she joins the Ana in their aerial 
 sports she adventures alone and afar into the wilder regions 
 of the sunless world: in the boldness and height of her soar- 
 ings, not less than in the grace of her movements, she excels 
 the opposite sex. But from the day of marriage, she wears 
 wings no more, she suspends them with her own willing hand 
 over the nuptial couch, never to be resumed unless the mar- 
 riage tie be severed by divorce or death. 
 
 Now when Zee's voice and eyes thus softened and at that
 
 82 THE COiMING RACE. 
 
 softening I prophetically recoiled and shuddered Tae, who 
 had accompanied us in our flights, but who, child-like, had 
 been much more amused with my awkwardness than sympa- 
 thizing in my fears or aware of my danger, hovered over us, 
 poised amidst the still radiant air, serene and motionless on his 
 outspread wings, and hearing the endearing words of the young 
 Gy, laughed aloud. Said he: "If the Tish cannot learn the 
 use of wings, you may still be be his companion, Zee, for you 
 can suspend your own." 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 I HAD for some time observed in my host's highly informed 
 and powerfully proportioned daughter that kindly and protec- 
 tive sentiment which, whether above the earth or below it, an 
 all-wise Providence has bestowed upon the feminine division of 
 the human race. But until very lately I had ascribed it to that 
 affection for "pets" which a human female at every age shares 
 with a human child. I now became painfully aware that the 
 feeling with which Zee deigned to regard me was different from 
 that which I had inspired in Tae. But this conviction gave me 
 none of that complacent gratification which the vanity of man 
 ordinarily conceives from a flattering appreciation of his per- 
 sonal merits on the part of the fair sex ; on the contrary, it in- 
 spired me with fear. Yet of all the Gy-ei in the community, 
 if Zee were perhaps the wisest and the strongest, she was, by 
 common repute, the gentlest, and she was certainly the most 
 popularly beloved. The desire to aid, to succor, to protect, to 
 comfort, to bless, seemed to pervade her whole being. Though 
 the complicated miseries that originate in penury and guilt are 
 unknown to the social system of the Vril-ya, still, no sage had 
 yet discovered in vril an agency which could banish sorrow 
 from life ; and wherever amongst her people sorrow found its 
 way, there Zee followed in the mission of comforter. Did 
 some sister Gy fail to secure the love she sighed for? Zee 
 sought her out, and brought all the resources of her lore, and 
 all the consolations of her sympathy, to bear upon a grief that 
 so needs the solace of a confidant. In the rare cases, when 
 grave illness seized upon childhood, or youth, and the cases, less 
 rare, when, in the hardy and adventurous probation of infants, 
 some accident attended with pain and injury occurred, Zee for- 
 sook her studies and her sports, and became the healer and the 
 nurse. Her favorite flights were towards the extreme bounda- 
 ries of the domain where children were stationed on guard
 
 THE COMING RACE. 83 
 
 against outbreaks of warring forces in nature, or the invasions 
 of devouring animals, so that she might warn them of any peril 
 which her knowledge detected or foresaw, or be at hand if any 
 harm should befall. Nay, even in the exercise of her scientific 
 acquirements there was a concurrent benevolence of purpose 
 and will. Did she learn any novelty in invention that would 
 be useful to the practitioner of some art or craft? She 
 hastened to communicate and explain it. Was some veteran 
 sage of the College perplexed and wearied with the toil of an 
 abstruse study? She would patiently devote herself to his aid, 
 work out details for him, sustain his spirits with her hopeful 
 smile, quicken his wit with her luminous suggestion, be to him, 
 as it were, his own good genius made visible as the strengthener 
 and inspirer. The same tenderness she exhibited to the infe- 
 rior creatures. I have often known her bring home some sick 
 and wounded animal, and tend and cherish it as a mother 
 would tend and cherish her stricken child. Many a time when 
 I sat in the balcony, or hanging garden, on which r^y window 
 opened, I have watched her rising in the air on her radiant 
 wings, and in a few moments groups of infants below, catching 
 sight of her, would soar upwards with joyous sounds of greet- 
 ing; clustering and sporting around her so that she seemed a 
 very centre of innocent delight. When I have walked with 
 her amidst the rocks and valleys about the city, the elk-deer 
 would scent or see her from afar, come bounding up, eager for 
 the caress of her hand, or follow her footsteps, till dismissed by 
 some musical whisper that the creature had learned to com- 
 prehend. It is the fashion among the virgin Gy-ei to wear on 
 their foreheads a circlet, or coronet, with gems resembling 
 opals, arranged in four points or rays like stars. These are 
 lustreless in ordinary use, but if touched by the vril wand they 
 take a clear, lambent flame, which illuminates, yet not burns. 
 This serves as an ornament in their festivities, and as a lamp, 
 if, in their wanderings beyond their artificial lights, they have 
 to traverse the dark. There are times, when I have seen Zee's 
 thoughtful majesty of face lighted up by this crowning halo, 
 that I could scarcely believe her to be a creature of mortal 
 birth, and bent my head before her as the vision of a being 
 among the celestial orders. But never once did my heart feel 
 for this lofty type of the noblest womanhood a sentiment of 
 human love. Is it that, among the race I belong to, man's 
 pride so far influences his passions that woman loses to him her 
 special charm of woman if he feels her to be in all things emi- 
 nently superior to himself? But by what strange infatuation
 
 84 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 could this peerless daughter of a race which, in the supremacy 
 of its powers and the felicity of its conditions, ranked all other 
 races in the category of barbarians, have deigned to honor me 
 with her preference? In personal qualifications, though I 
 passed for good-looking among the people I came from, the 
 handsomest of my countrymen might have seemed insignificant 
 and homely beside the grand and serene type of beauty which 
 characterized the aspect of the Vril-ya. 
 
 That novelty, the very difference between myself and those 
 to whom Zee was accustomed, might serve to bias her fancy 
 was probable enough, and as the reader will see later, such a 
 cause might suffice to account for the predilection with which 
 I was distinguished by a young Gy scarcely out of her child- 
 hood, and very inferior in all respects to Zee. But whoever 
 will consider those tender characteristics which I have just as- 
 cribed to the daughter of Aph-Lin, may readily conceive that 
 the main cause of my attraction to her was in her instinctive 
 desire to cherish, to comfort, to protect, and, in protecting, to 
 sustain and to exalt. Thus, when I look back, I account for 
 the only weakness unworthy of her lofty nature, which 
 bowed the daughter of the Vril-ya to a woman's affection for 
 one so inferior to herself as was her father's guest. But be 
 the cause what it may, the consciousness that I had inspired 
 such affection thrilled me with awe a moral awe of her very 
 perfections, of her mysterious powers, of the inseparable dis- 
 tinctions between her race and my own ; and with that awe, I 
 must confess to my shame, there combined the more material 
 and ignoble dread of the perils to which her preference would 
 expose me. 
 
 Could it be supposed for a moment that the parents and 
 friends of this exalted being could view without indignation 
 and disgust the possibility of an alliance between herself and a 
 Tish? Her they could not punish, her they could not confine 
 or restrain. Neither in domestic nor in political life do they 
 acknowledge any law of force among themselves; but they 
 could effectually put an end to her infatuation by a flash of 
 vril inflicted upon me. 
 
 Under these anxious circumstances, fortunately, my con- 
 science and sense of honor were free from reproach. It be- 
 came clearly my duty, if Zee's preference continued manifest, 
 to intimate it to my host, with, of course, all the delicacy which 
 is ever to be preserved by a well-bred man in confiding to an- 
 other any degree of favor by which one of the fair sex may 
 condescend to distinguish him. Thus, at all events, I should
 
 THE COMING RACE. 85 
 
 be freed from responsibility or suspicion of voluntary partici- 
 pation in the sentiments of Zee; and the superior wisdom of 
 my host might probably suggest some sage extrication from 
 my perlilous dilemma. In this resolve I obeyed the ordinary 
 instinct of civilized and moral man, who, erring though he be, 
 still generally prefers the right course in those cases where it is 
 obviously against his inclinations, his interests, and his safety 
 to elect the wrong one. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 As the reader has seen, Aph-Lin had not favored my general 
 and unrestricted intercourse with his countrymen. Though 
 relying on my promise to abstain from giving any information 
 as to the world. I had left, and still more on the promise of 
 those to whom had been put the same request, not to question 
 me, which Zee had extracted from Tae, yet he did not feel sure 
 that, if I were allowed to mix with the strangers whose curiosity 
 the sight of me had aroused, I could sufficiently guard myself 
 against their inquiries. When I went out, therefore, it was 
 never alone; I was always accompanied either by one of my 
 host's family, or my child-friend Tae. Bra, Aph-Lin's wife, sel- 
 dom stirred beyond the gardens which surrounded the house, and 
 was fond of reading the ancient literature, which contained 
 something of romance and adventure not to be found in the 
 writings of recent ages, and presented pictures of a life unfa- 
 miliar to her experience and interesting to her imagination : 
 pictures, indeed, of a life more resembling that which we lead 
 every day above ground, colored by our sorrows, sins, and pas- 
 sions, and much to her what the Tales of the Genii or the 
 Arabian Nights are to us. But her love of reading did not 
 prevent Bra from the discharge of her duties as mistress of the 
 largest household in the city. She went daily the round of the 
 chambers, and saw that the automata and other mechanical 
 contrivances were in order; that the numerous children em- 
 ployed by Aph-Lin, whether in his private or public capacity, 
 were carefully tended. Bra also inspected the accounts of the 
 whole estate, and it was her great delight to assist her husband 
 in the business connected with his office as chief administrator 
 of the Lighting Department, so that her avocations necessarily 
 kept her much within doors. The two sons were both com- 
 pleting their education at the College of Sages: and the elder, 
 who had a strong passion for mechanics, and especially for 
 works connected with the machinery of timepieces and auto-
 
 86 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 mata, had decided on devoting himself to these pursuits, and 
 was now occupied in constructing a shop, or warehouse, at 
 which his inventions could be exhibited and sold. The 
 younger son preferred farming and rural occupations; and 
 when not attending the college, at which he chiefly studied the 
 theories of agriculture, was much absorbed by his practical ap- 
 plication of that science to his father's lands. It will be seen 
 by this how completely equality of ranks is established among 
 this people a shopkeeper being of exactly the same grade in 
 estimation as the large landed proprietor. Aph-Lin was the 
 wealthiest member of the community, and his eldest son pre- 
 ferred keeping a shop to any other avocation, nor was this 
 choice thought to show any want of elevated notions on his 
 part. 
 
 This young man had been much interested in examining my 
 watch, the works of which were new to him, and was greatly 
 pleased when I made him a present of it. Shortly after, he 
 returned the gift with interest, by a watch of his own construc- 
 tion, marking both the time as in my watch and the time as 
 kept among the Vril-ya. I have that watch still, and it has 
 been much admired by many among the most eminent watch- 
 makers of London and Paris. It is of gold, with diamond 
 hands and figures, and it plays a favorite tune among the Vril- 
 ya in striking the hours; it only requires to be wound up once 
 in ten months, and has never gone wrong since I had it. 
 These young brothers being thus occupied, my usual compan- 
 ions in that family, when I went abroad, were my host or his 
 daughter. Now, agreeably with the honorable conclusions I 
 had come to, I began to excuse myself from Zee's invitations 
 to go out alone with her, and seized an occasion when that 
 learned Gy was delivering a lecture at the College of Sages to 
 ask Aph-Lin to show me his country-seat. As this was at some 
 little distance, and as Aph-Lin was not fond of walking, while 
 I had discreetly relinquished all attempts at flying, we pro- 
 ceeded to our destination in one of the aerial boats belonging 
 to my host. A child of eight years old, in his employ, was 
 our conductor. My host and myself reclined on cushions, and 
 I found the movement very easy and luxurious. 
 
 "Aph-Lin," said I, "you will not, I trust, be displeased 
 with me, if I ask your permission to travel for a short time, 
 and visit other tribes or communities of your illustrious race. 
 I have also a strong desire to see those nations which do not 
 adopt your institutions, and which you consider as savages. It 
 would interest me greatly to notice what are the distinctions
 
 THE COMING RACE. 87 
 
 between them and the races whom we consider civilized in the 
 world I have left." 
 
 "It is utterly impossible that you should go hence alone," 
 said Aph-Lin. "Even among the Vril-ya you would be ex- 
 posed to great dangers. Certain peculiarities of formation 
 and color, and the extraordinary phenomenon of hirsute bushes 
 upon your cheeks and chin, denoting in you a species of An 
 distinct alike from our race and any known race of barbarians 
 yet extant, would attract, of course, the special attention of 
 the College of Sages in whatever community of Vril-ya you 
 visited, and it would depend upon the individual temper of 
 some individual sage whether you would be received, as you 
 have been here, hospitably, or whether you would not be at 
 once dissected for scientific purposes. Know that when the 
 Tur first took you to his house, and while you were there 
 put to sleep by Tae in order to recover from your previous 
 pain or fatigue, the sages summoned by the Tur were divided 
 in opinion whether you were a harmless or an obnoxious 
 animal. During your unconscious state your teeth were 
 examined, and they clearly showed that you were not only 
 graminivorous, but carnivorous. Carnivorous animals of your 
 size are always destroyed, as being of dangerous and sav- 
 age nature. Our teeth, as you have doubtless observed,* 
 are not those of the creatures who devour flesh. It is, in- 
 deed, maintained by Zee and other philosophers, that as, 
 in remote ages, the Ana did prey upon living beings of the 
 brute species, their teeth must have been fitted for that pur- 
 pose. But, even if so, they have been modified by hereditary 
 transmission, and suited to the food on which we now exist; 
 nor are even the barbarians, who adopt the turbulent and fero 
 cious institutions of Glek-Nas, devourers of flesh like beasts of 
 prey. 
 
 "In the course of this dispute it was proposed to dissect 
 you; but Tae begged you off, and the Tur being, by office, 
 averse to all novel experiments at variance with our custom of 
 sparing life, except where it is clearly proved to be for the 
 good of the community to take it, sent to me, whose business 
 it is, as the richest man of the state, to afford hospitality to 
 strangers from a distance. It was at my option to decide 
 whether or not you were a stranger whom I could safely admit. 
 Had I declined to receive .you, you would have been handed 
 over to the College of Sages, and what might there have be- 
 
 1 never had observed it ; and, if I had am not physiologist enough to have distin- 
 guished the difference.
 
 88 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 fallen you I do not like to conjecture Apart from this danger, 
 you might chance to encounter some child four years old, just 
 put in possession of his vril staff ; and who, in alarm at your 
 strange appearance, and in the impulse of the moment, might 
 reduce you to a cinder. Tae himself was about to do so when 
 he first saw you, had his father not checked his hand. There- 
 fore I say you cannot travel alone, but with Zee you would be 
 safe ; and I have no doubt that she would accompany you on 
 a tour round the neighboring communities of Vril-ya (to the 
 savage states, No!): I will ask her. " 
 
 Now, as my main object in proposing to travel was to escape 
 from Zee, I hastily exclaimed: "Nay, pray do not! I relin- 
 quish my design. You have said enough as to its dangers to 
 deter me from it ; and I can scarcely think it right that a 
 young Gy of the personal attractions of your lovely daughter 
 should travel into other regions without a better protector than 
 a Tish of my insignificant strength and stature." 
 
 Aph-Lin emitted the soft sibilant sound which is the nearest 
 approach to laughter that a full-grown An permits to himself, 
 ere he replied : "Pardon my discourteous but momentary in- 
 dulgence of mirth at any observation seriously made by my 
 guest. I could not but be amused at the idea of Zee, who is so 
 fond of protecting others that children call her 'THE GUARDI- 
 AN,' needing a protector herself against any dangers arising 
 from the audacious admiration of males. Know that our 
 Gy-ei, while unmarried, are accustomed to travel alone among 
 other tribes, to see if they find there some An who may please 
 them more than the Ana they find at home. Zee has already 
 made three such journeys, but hitherto her heart has been 
 untouched." 
 
 Here the opportunity which I sought was afforded to me; 
 and I said, looking down, and with faltering voice: "Will you, 
 my kind host, promise to pardon me, if what I am about to 
 say gives you offence?" 
 
 "Say only the truth, and I cannot be offended; or, could I 
 be so, it would be not for me, but for you to pardon." 
 
 "Well, then, assist me to quit you, and, much as I should have 
 liked to witness more of the wonders, and enjoy more of the fe- 
 licity, which belong to your people, let me return to my own." 
 
 "I fear there are reasons why I cannot do that ; at all events, 
 not without permission of the Tur, and he, probably, would 
 not grant it. You are not destitute of intelligence ; you may 
 (though I do not think so) have concealed the degree of de* 
 structive powers possessed by your people ; you might, in short,
 
 THE COMING RACE. 89 
 
 bring upon us some danger; and if the Tur entertains that 
 idea it would clearly be his duty either to put an end to you, 
 or enclose you in a cage for the rest of your existence. But 
 why should you wish to leave a state of society which you so 
 politely allow to be more felicitous than your own?" 
 
 "Oh, Aph-Lin! my answer is plain. Lest in aught, and 
 unwittingly, I should betray your hospitality; lest, in that 
 caprice of will which in our world is proverbial among the 
 other sex, and from which even a Gy is not free, your adorable 
 daughter should deign to regard me, though a Tish, as if I 
 were a civilized An, and and and " 
 
 "Court you as her spouse," put in Aph-Lin gravely, and 
 without any visible sign of surprise or displeasure. 
 
 "You have said it." 
 
 "That would be a misfortune," resumed my host, after a 
 pause, "and I feel that you have acted as you ought in warn- 
 ing me. It is, as you imply, not uncommon for an unwedded 
 Gy to conceive tastes as to the object she covets which appear 
 whimsical to others ; but there is no power to compel a young 
 Gy to any course opposed to that which she chooses to pur- 
 sue. All we can do is to reason with her, and experience tells 
 us that the whole College of Sages would find it vain to reason 
 with a Gy in a matter that concerns her choice in love. I 
 grieve for you, because such a marriage would be against the 
 Aglauran, or good of the community, for the children of such 
 a marriage would adulterate the race : they might even come 
 into the world with the teeth of carnivorous animals ; this 
 could not be allowed: Zee, as a Gy, cannot be controlled; 
 but you, as a Tish, can be destroyed. I advise you, then, to 
 resist her addresses ; to tell her plainly that you can never 
 return her love. This happens constantly. Many an An, 
 however ardently wooed by one Gy, rejects her, and puts an 
 end to her persecution by wedding another. The same source 
 is open to you." 
 
 "No; for I cannot wed another Gy without equally injur- 
 ing the community, and exposing it to the chance of rearing 
 carnivorous children." 
 
 "That is true. All I can say, and I say it with the tender- 
 ness due to a Tish, and the respect due to a guest, is frankly 
 this if you yield, you will become a cinder. I must leave it 
 to you to take the best way you can to defend yourself. Per- 
 haps you had better tell Zee that she is ugly. That assurance 
 on the lips of him she woos generally suffices to chill the most 
 ardent Gy. Here we are at my country-house."
 
 90 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 I CONFESS that my conversation with Aph-Lin and the ex- 
 treme coolness with which he stated his inability to control the 
 dangerous caprice of his daughter, and treated the idea of the 
 reduction into a cinder to which her amorous flame might ex- 
 pose my too seductive person, took away the pleasure I should 
 otherwise have had in the contemplation of my host's country- 
 seat, and the astonishing perfection of the machinery by which 
 his farming operations were conducted. The house differed in 
 appearance from the massive and sombre building which Aph- 
 Lin inhabited in the city, and which seemed akin to the rocks 
 out of which the city itself had been hewn into shape. The 
 walls of the country-seat were composed by trees placed a few 
 feet apart from each other, the interstices being filled in with 
 the transparent metallic substance which serves the purpose of 
 glass among the Ana. These trees were all in flower, and the 
 effect was very pleasing, if not in the best taste. We were 
 received at the porch by lifelike automata, who conducted us 
 into a chamber, the like to which I never saw before, but have 
 often on summer days dreamily imagined. It was a bower 
 half-room, half-garden. The walls were one mass of climbing 
 flowers. The open spaces, which we call windows, and in 
 which, here, the metallic surfaces were slided back, com- 
 manded various views ; some, of the wide landscape with its 
 lakes and rocks ; some, of small limited expanse answering to 
 our conservatories, filled with tiers of flowers. Along the 
 sides of the room were flower-beds, interspersed with cushions 
 for repose. In the centre of the floor were a cistern and a 
 fountain of that liquid light which I have presumed to be 
 naphtha. It was luminous and of a roseate hue; it sufficed 
 without lamps to light up the room with a subdued radiance. 
 All around the fountain was carpeted, with a soft, deep lichen, 
 not green (I have never seen that color in the vegetation of 
 this country), but a quiet brown, on which the eye reposes 
 with the same sense of relief as that with which in the upper 
 world it reposes on green. In the outlets upon flowers (which 
 I have compared to our conservatories) there were singing- 
 birds innumerable, which, while we remained in the room, 
 sang in those harmonies of tune to which they are, in these 
 parts, so wonderfully trained. The roof was open. The 
 whole scene had charms for every sense music from the birds, 
 fragrance from the flowers, and varied beauty to the eye at
 
 THE COMING RACE. 9! 
 
 every aspect. About all was a voluptuous repose. What a 
 place, methought, for a honeymoon, if a Gy bride were a little 
 less formidably armed not only with the rights of woman, but 
 with the powers of man ! but when one thinks of a Gy, so 
 learned, so tall, so stately, so much above the standard of the 
 creature we call woman as was Zee, no! even if I had felt no 
 fear of being reduced to a cinder, it is not of her I should have 
 dreamed in that bower so constructed for dreams of poetic 
 love. 
 
 The automata reappeared, serving one of those delicious 
 liquids which form the innocent wines of the Vril-ya. 
 
 "Truly," said I, "this is a charming residence, and I can 
 scarcely conceive why you do not settle yourself here instead 
 of amid the gloomier abodes of the city." 
 
 "As responsible to the community for the administration of 
 light, I am compelled to reside chiefly in the city, and can 
 only come hither for short intervals." 
 
 "But since I understand from you that no honors are at- 
 tached to your office, and it involves some trouble, why do 
 you accept it?" 
 
 "Each of us obeys without question the command of the 
 Tur. He said, 'Be it requested that Aph-Lin shall be Com- 
 missioner of Light,' so I had no choice; but having held the 
 office now for a long time, the cares, which were at first un- 
 welcome, have become, if not pleasing, at least endurable. 
 We are all formed by custom even the difference of our race 
 from the savage is but the transmitted cotinuance of custom, 
 which becomes, though hereditary descent, part and parcel of 
 our nature. You see there are Ana who even reconcile them- 
 selves to the responsibilities of chief magistrate, but no one 
 would do so if his duties had not been rendered so light, or 
 if there were any questions as to compliance with his requests." 
 
 "Not even if you thought the requests unwise or unjust?" 
 
 "We do not allow ourselves to think so, and indeed, every- 
 thing goes on as if each and all governed themselves according 
 to immemorial custom." 
 
 "When the chief magistrate dies or retires, how do you pro- 
 vide for his successor?" 
 
 "The An who has discharged the duties of chief magistrate 
 for many years is the best person to choose one by whom those 
 duties may be understood, and he generally names his suc- 
 cessor." 
 
 "His son, perhaps?" 
 
 "Seldom that; for it is not an office any one desires or
 
 92 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 seeks, and a father naturally hesitates to constrain his son. 
 But if the Tur himself decline to make a choice, for fear it 
 might be supposed that he owed some grudge to the person on 
 whom his choice would settle, then there are three of the Col- 
 lege of Sages who draw lots among themselves which shall have 
 the power to elect the chief. We consider that the judgment 
 of one An of ordinary capacity is better than the judgment of 
 three or more, however wise they may be ; for among three 
 there would probably be disputes; and where there are dis- 
 putes, passion clouds judgment. The worst choice made by 
 one who has no motive in choosing wrong, is better than the 
 best choice made by many who have many motives for not 
 choosing right." 
 
 "You reverse in your policy the maxims adopted in my 
 country." 
 
 ' 'Are you all, in your country, satisfied with your gover- 
 nors?" 
 
 "All! certainly not; the governors that most please some 
 are sure to be those most displeasing to others." 
 
 "Then our system is better than yours." 
 
 "For you it may be; but according to our system a Tish 
 could not be reduced to a cinder if a female compelled him to 
 marry her; and as a Tish I sigh to return to my native world." 
 
 "Take courage, my dear little guest; Zee can't compel you 
 to marry her. She can only entice you to do so. Don't be 
 enticed. Come and look round my domain." 
 
 We went forth into a close, bordered with sheds; for though 
 the Ana keep no stock for food, there are some animals which 
 they rear for milking and others for shearing. The former 
 have no resemblance to our cows, nor the latter to our sheep, 
 nor do I believe such species exist amongst them. They use 
 the milk of three varieties of animal: one resembles the ante- 
 lope, but is much larger, being as tall as a camel; the other 
 two are smaller, and, though differing somewhat from each 
 other, resemble no creature I ever saw on earth. They are 
 very sleek and of rounded proportions ; their color that of the 
 dappled deer, with very mild countenances and beautiful dark 
 eyes. The milk of these three creatures differs in richness 
 and in taste. It is usually diluted with water, and flavored with 
 the juice of a peculiar and perfumed fruit, and in itself is very 
 nutritious and palatable. The animal whose fleece serves them 
 for clothing and many other purposes, is more like the Italian 
 she-goat than any other creature, but is considerably larger, 
 has no horns, and is free from the displeasing odor of our
 
 THE COMING RACE. 93 
 
 goats. Its fleece is not thick, but very long and fine ; it varies 
 in color, but is never white, more generally of a slate-like or 
 lavender hue. For clothing it is usually worn dyed to suit 
 the taste of the wearer. These animals were exceedingly 
 tame, and were treated with extraordinary care and affection 
 by the children (chiefly female) who tended them. 
 
 We went then through vast storehouses filled with grains and 
 fruits. I may here observe that the main staple of food among 
 these people consists, firstly, of a kind of corn much larger in 
 ear than our wheat, and which by culture is perpetually being 
 brought into new varieties of flavor ; and, secondly, of a fruit of 
 about the size of a small orange, which, when gathered, is 
 hard and bitter. It is stowed away for many months in their 
 warehouses, and then becomes succulent and tender. Its 
 juice, which is of dark-red color, enters into most of their 
 sauces. They have many kinds of fruit of the nature of the 
 olive, from which delicious oils are extracted. They have a 
 plant somewhat resembling the sugar-cane, but its juices are 
 less sweet and of a delicate perfume. They have no bees nor 
 honey-kneading insects, but they make much use of a sweet 
 gum that oozes from a coniferous plant, not unlike the arauca- 
 ria. Their soil teems also with esculent roots and vegetables, 
 which it is the aim of their culture to improve and vary to the 
 utmost. And I never remember any meal among this people, 
 however it might be confined to the family household, in which 
 some delicate novelty in such articles of food was not intro- 
 duced. In fine, as I before observed, their cookery is exquis- 
 ite, so diversified and nutritious that one does not miss animal 
 food ; and their own physical forms suffice to show that with 
 them, at least, meat is not required for superior production of 
 muscular fibre. They have no grapes the drinks extracted 
 from their fruits are innocent and refreshing. Their staple 
 beverage, however, is water, in the choice of which they are 
 very fastidious, distinguishing at once the slightest impurity. 
 
 "My younger son takes great pleasure in augmenting our 
 produce," said Aph-Lin as we passed through the storehouses, 
 "and therefore will inherit these lands, which constitute the 
 chief part of my wealth. To my elder son such inheritance 
 would be a great trouble and affliction." 
 
 "Are there many sons among you who think the inheritance 
 of vast wealth would be a great trouble and affliction?" 
 
 "Certainly; there are indeed very few of the Vril-ya who do 
 not consider that a fortune much above the average is a heavy 
 burden. We are rather a lazy people after the age of child-
 
 94 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 hood, and do not like undergoing more cares than we can 
 help, and great wealth does give its owner many cares. For 
 instance, it marks us out for public offices, which none of 
 us like and none of us can refuse. It necessitates our taking 
 a continued interest in the affairs of any of our poorer country- 
 men, so that we may anticipate their wants and see that none 
 fall into poverty. There is an old proverb amongst us which 
 says, 'The poor man's need is the rich man's shame ' " 
 
 "Pardon me, if I interrupt you for a moment. You then 
 allow that some, even of the Vril-ya, know want, and need 
 relief?" 
 
 "If by want you mean the destitution that prevails in a 
 Koom-Posh, that is impossible with us, unless an An has, by 
 some extraordinary process, got rid of all his means, cannot or 
 will not emigrate, and has either tired out the affectionate aid 
 of his relations or personal friends, or refuses to accept it." 
 
 "Well, then, does he not supply the place of an infant or 
 automaton, and become a laborer a servant?" 
 
 "No; then we regard him as an unfortunate person of un- 
 sound reason, and place him, at the expense of the State, in a 
 public building, where every comfort and every luxury that 
 can mitigate his affliction are lavished upon him. But an An 
 does not like to be considered out of his mind, and therefore 
 such cases occur so seldom that the public building I speak of 
 is now a deserted ruin, and the last inmate of it was an An 
 whom I recollect to have seen in my childhood. He did not 
 seem conscious of loss of reason, and wrote glaubs (poetry). 
 When I spoke of wants, I meant such wants as an An with de- 
 sires larger than his means sometimes entertains for expensive 
 singing-birds, or bigger houses, or country-gardens; and the 
 obvious way to satisfy such wants is to buy of him something 
 that he sells. Hence Ana like myself, who are very rich, are 
 obliged to buy a great many things they do not require, and 
 live on a very large scale where they might prefer to live on a 
 small one. For instance, the great size of my house in the 
 town is a source of much trouble to my wife, and even to 
 myself; but I am compelled to have it thus incommodiously 
 large, because, as the richest An of the community, I am ap- 
 pointed to entertain the strangers from the other communities 
 when they visit us, which they do in great crowds twice a year, 
 when certain periodical entertainments are held, and when rela- 
 tions scattered throughout all the realms of the Vril-ya joyfully 
 reunite for a time. This hospitality, on a scale so extensive, is 
 not to my taste, and therefore I should have been happier had
 
 THE COMING RACE. 95 
 
 I been less rich. But we must all bear the lot assigned to us 
 in this short passage through time that we call life. After all, 
 what are a hundred years, more or less, to the ages through 
 which we must pass hereafter? Luckily, I have one son who 
 likes great wealth. It is a rare exception to the general rule, 
 and I own I cannot myself understand it." 
 
 After this conversation I sought to return to the subject 
 which continued to weigh on my heart, viz., the chances of 
 escape from Zee. But my host politely declined to renew that 
 topic, and summoned our air-boat. On our way back we were 
 met by Zee, who, having found us gone, on her return from 
 the College of Sages, had unfurled her wings and flown in 
 search of us. 
 
 Her grand, but to me unalluring, countenance brightened as 
 she beheld me, and, poising herself beside the boat on her 
 large outspread plumes, she said reproachfully to Aph-Lin: 
 "Oh, father^ was it right in you to hazard the life of your 
 guest in a vehicle to which he is so unaccustomed? He might, 
 by an incautious movement, fall over the side ; and, alas ! he 
 is not like us, he has no wings. It were death to him to fall. 
 Dear one!" (she added, accosting my shrinking self in a softer 
 voice), "have you no thought of me, that you should thus haz- 
 ard a life which has become almost a part of mine? Never 
 again be thus rash, unless I am thy companion. What terror 
 thou hast stricken into me!" 
 
 I glanced furtively at Aph-Lin, expecting, at least, that he 
 would indignantly reprove his daughter for expressions of anxi- 
 ety and affection, which, under all the circumstances, would, 
 in the world above ground, be considered immodest in the lips 
 of a young female, addressed to a male not affianced to her, 
 even if of the same rank as herself. 
 
 But so confirmed are the rights of females in that region, and 
 so absolutely foremost amongst those rights do females claim 
 the privilege of courtship, that Aph-Lin would no more have 
 thought of reproving his virgin daughter, than he would have 
 thought of disobeying the Tur. In that country, custom, as 
 he implied, is all and all. 
 
 He answered mildly: "Zee, the Tish was in no danger, and 
 it is my belief that he can take very good care of himself." 
 
 "I would rather that he let me charge myself with his care. 
 Oh, heart of my heart, it was in the thought of thy danger that 
 I first felt how much I loved thee!" 
 
 Never did man feel in so false a position as I did. These 
 words were spoken loud in the hearing of Zee's father in
 
 96 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 the hearing of the child who steered. I blushed with shame 
 for them, and for her, and could not help replying, angrily: 
 "Zee, either you mock me, which, as your father's guest, mis- 
 becomes you, or the words you utter are improper for a maiden 
 Gy to address even to an An of her own race, if he has not 
 wooed her with the consent of her parents. How much more 
 improper to address them to a Tish, who has never presumed 
 to solicit your affections, and who can never regard you with 
 other sentiments than those of reverence and awe!" 
 
 Aph-Lin made me a covert sign of approbation, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 "Be not so cruel!" exclaimed Zee, still in sonorous accents. 
 "Can love command itself where it is truly felt? Do you sup- 
 pose that a maiden Gy will conceal a sentiment that it elevates 
 her to feel? What a country you must have come from!" 
 
 Here Aph-Lin gently interposed, saying: "Among the 
 Tish-a the rights of your sex do not appear to be established, 
 and at all events my guest may converse with you more freely 
 if unchecked by the presence of others." 
 
 To this remark Zee made no reply, but, darting on me a 
 tender, reproachful glance, agitated her wings and fled home- 
 ward. 
 
 "I had counted, at least, on some aid from my host," said I 
 bitterly, "in the perils to which his own daughter exposes me." 
 
 "I gave you the best aid I could. To contradict a Gy in 
 her love affairs is to confirm her purpose. She allows no 
 counsel to come between her and her affections." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ON alighting from the air-boat, a child accosted Aph-Lin in 
 the hall with a request that he would be present at the funeral 
 obsequies of a relation who had recently departed from that 
 nether world. 
 
 Now, I had never seen a burial-place or cemetery amongst 
 this people and, glad to seize even so melancholy an occasion 
 to defer an encounter with Zee, I asked Aph-Lin if I might be 
 permitted to witness with him the interment of his relation ; 
 unless, indeed, it were regarded as one of those sacred cere- 
 monies to which a stranger to their race might not be admitted. 
 
 "The departure of an An to a happier world," answered my 
 host, "when as in the case of my kinsman, he has lived so long 
 in this as to have lost pleasure in it, is rather a cheerful though
 
 THE COMING RACE. 97 
 
 quiet festival than a sacred ceremony, and you may accompany 
 ine if you will." 
 
 Preceded by the child-messenger, we walked up the main 
 street to a house at some little distance, and, entering the hall, 
 were conducted to a room on the ground-floor, where we found 
 several persons assembled round a couch on which was laid the 
 deceased. It was an old man, who had, as I was told, lived be- 
 yond his i3oth year. To judge by the calm smile on his 
 countenance, he had passed away without suffering. One of the 
 sons, who was now the head of the family, and who seemed in 
 vigorous middle life, though he was considerably more than 
 seventy, stepped forward with a cheerful face and told Aph- 
 Lin "that the day before he died his father had seen in a 
 dream his departed Gy, and was eager to be reunited to her, 
 and restored to youth beneath the nearer smile of the All- 
 Good." 
 
 While these two were talking, my attention was drawn to a 
 dark metallic substance at the farther end of the room. It was 
 about twenty feet in length, narrow in proportion, and all 
 closed round, save, near the roof, there were small round holes 
 through which might be seen a red light. From the interior 
 emanated a rich and sweet perfume; and while I was conjectur- 
 ing what purpose this machine was to serve, all the timepieces 
 in the town struck the hour with their solemn musical chime; 
 and as that sound ceased, music of a more joyous character, 
 but still of a joy subdued and tranquil, rang throughout the 
 chamber, and from the walls beyond, in a choral peal. Sym- 
 phonious with the melody those present lifted their voice in 
 chant. The words of this hymn were simple. They expressed 
 no regret, no farewell, but rather a greeting to the new- 
 world whither the deceased had preceded the living. In- 
 deed, in their language, the funeral hymn is called the 'Birth 
 Song.' Then the corpse, covered by a long cerement, was 
 tenderly lifted up by six of the nearest kinsfolk and borne 
 towards the dark thing I have described. I pressed forward to 
 see what happened. A sliding door or panel at one end was 
 lifted up the body deposited within, on a shelf the door re- 
 closed a spring at the side touched a sudden whisking, sigh- 
 ing sound heard from within ; and lo! at the other end of the 
 machine the lid fell down, and a small handful of smouldering 
 dust dropped into a. patera placed to receive it. The son took 
 up the patera and said (in what I understood afterwards was the 
 usual form of words): "Behold how great is the Maker! To 
 this little dust He gave form and life and soul. It needs not
 
 98 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 this little dust for Him to renew form and life and soul to the 
 beloved one we shall soon see again." 
 
 Each present bowed his head and pressed his hand to his 
 heart. Then a young female child opened a small door within 
 the wall, and I perceived, in the recess, shelves on which were 
 placed many patera like that which the son held, save that they 
 all had covers. With such a cover a Gy now approached the 
 son, and placed it over the cup, on which it closed with a spring. 
 On the lid were engraven the name of the deceased, and these 
 words: "Lent to us" (here the date of birth), "Recalled from 
 us" (here the date of death). 
 
 The closed door shut with a musical sound, and all was over. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 "AND this," said I, with my mind full of what I had wit- 
 nessed "this, I presume, is your usual form of burial?" 
 
 "Our invariable form," answered Aph-Lin. "What is it 
 amongst your people?" 
 
 "We inter the body whole within the earth." 
 
 "What! to degrade the form you have loved and honored, 
 the wife on whose breast you have slept, to the loathsomeness 
 of corruption?" 
 
 "But if the soul lives again, can it matter whether the body 
 waste within the earth or is reduced by that awful mechanism, 
 worked, no doubt, by the agency of vril, into a pinch of dust?" 
 
 "You answer well," said my host, "and there is no arguing 
 on a matter of feeling ; but to me your custom is horrible and 
 repulsive, and would serve to invest death with gloomy and 
 hideous associations. It is something, too, to my mind to be 
 able to preserve the token of what has been our kinsman or 
 friend within the abode in which we live. We thus feel more 
 sensibly that he still lives, though not visibly so to us. But 
 our sentiments in this, as in all things, are created by custom. 
 Custom is not to be changed by a wise An, any more than it is 
 changed by a wise Community, without the gravest deliberation, 
 followed by the most earnest conviction. It is only thus that 
 change ceases to be changeability, and once made is made for 
 good." 
 
 When we regained the house, Aph-Lin summoned some of 
 the children in his service, and sent them round to several of 
 his friends, requesting their attendance that day during the 
 Easy Hours, to a festival in honor of his kinsman's recall to 
 the All-Good. This was the largest and gayest assembly I ever
 
 THE COMING RACE. 99 
 
 witnessed during my stay among the Ana, and was prolonged 
 far into the Silent Hours. 
 
 The banquet was spread in a vast chamber reserved especial- 
 ly for grand occasions. This differed from our entertainments 
 and was not without a certain resemblance to those we read of 
 in the luxurious age of the Roman Empire. There was not 
 one great table set out, but numerous small tables, each appro- 
 priated to eight guests. It is considered that beyond that num- 
 ber conversation languishes and friendship cools. The Ana 
 never laugh loud, as I have before observed, but the cheerful 
 ring of their voices at the various tables betokened gayety of 
 intercourse. As they have no stimulant drinks, and are temper- 
 ate in food, though so choice and dainty, the banquet itself did 
 not last long. The tables sank through the floor, and then 
 came musical entertainments for those who liked them. Many, 
 however, wandered away; some of the younger ascended on 
 their wings, for the hall was roofless, forming aerial dances ; 
 others strolled through the various apartments, examining the 
 curiosities with which they were stored, or formed themselves 
 into groups for various games, the favorite of which is a compli- 
 cated kind of chess played by eight persons. I mixed with the 
 crowd, but was prevented joining in their conversation by the 
 constant companionship of one or the other of my host's sons, 
 appointed to keep me from obtrusive questionings. The 
 guests, however, noticed me but slightly ; they had grown ac- 
 customed to my appearance, seeing me so often in the streets, 
 and I had ceased to excite much curiosity. 
 
 To my great delight Zee avoided me, and evidently sought 
 to excite my jealousy by marked attentions to a very handsome 
 young An, who (though, as is the modest custom of the males 
 when addressed by females, he answered with downcast eyes 
 and blushing cheeks, and was demure and shy as young ladies 
 new to the world are in most civilized countries, except England 
 and America) was evidently much charmed by the tall Gy, and 
 ready to falter a bashful "Yes" if she had actually proposed. 
 Fervently hoping that she would, and more and more averse 
 to the idea of reduction to a cinder after I had seen the rapid- 
 ity with which a human body can be hurried into a pinch of 
 dust, I amused myself by watching the manners of the other 
 young people. I had the satisfaction of observing that Zee 
 was no singular asserter of a female's most valued rights. 
 Wherever I turned my eyes, or lent my ears, it seemed to me 
 that the Gy was the wooing party, and the An the coy and 
 reluctant one. The pretty innocent airs which an An gave
 
 100 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 himself on being thus courted, the dexterity with which he 
 evaded direct answer to professions of attachment, or turned 
 into jest the flattering compliments addressed to him, would 
 have done honor to the most accomplished coquette. Both my 
 male chaperons were subjected greatly to these seductive 
 influences, and both acquitted themselves with wonderful honor 
 to their tact and self-control. 
 
 I said to the elder son, who preferred mechanical employ- 
 ments to the management of a great property, and who was of 
 an eminently philosophical temperament: "I find it difficult to 
 conceive how at your age, and with all the intoxicating effects 
 on the senses of music and lights and perfumes, you can be so 
 cold to that impassioned Gy who has just left you with tears in 
 her eyes at your cruelty." 
 
 The young An replied with a sigh: "Gentle Tish, the greatest 
 misfortune in life is to marry one Gy if you are in love with 
 another." 
 
 "Oh! you are in love with another?" 
 
 "Alas! yes." 
 
 "And she does not return your love?" 
 
 "I don't know. Sometimes a look, a tone, nakes me hope 
 so; but she has never plainly told me that she loves me." 
 
 "Have you not whispered in her own ear that you love her?" 
 
 "Fie! what are you thinking of? What world do you come 
 from? Could I so betray the dignity of my sex? Could I be 
 so un-Anly, so lost to shame, as to own love to a Gy who has 
 not first owned hers to me?" 
 
 "Pardon: I was not quite aware that you pushed the modesty 
 of your sex so far. But does no An ever say to a Gy, 'I love 
 you,' till she says it first to him?" 
 
 "I can't say that no An has ever done so; but if he ever 
 does, he is disgraced in the eyes of the Ana, and secretly de- 
 spised by the Gy-ei. No Gy, well brought up, would listen to 
 him ; she would consider that he audaciously infringed on the 
 rights of her sex, while outraging the modesty which dignifies 
 his own. It is very provoking," continued the An; "for she 
 whom I love has certainly courted no one else, and I cannot 
 but think she likes me. Sometimes I suspect that she does not 
 court me because she fears I would ask some unreasonable 
 settlement as to the surrender of her rights. But if so, she can- 
 not really love me; for where a Gy really loves, she foregoes all 
 rights. ' ' 
 
 "Is this young Gy present." 
 
 "Oh yes. She sits yonder talking to my mother,"
 
 THE COMING RACE. IOI 
 
 I looked in the direction to which my eyes were thus guided, 
 and saw a Gy dressed in robes of bright red, which among this 
 people is a sign that a Gy as yet prefers a single state. She 
 wears gray, a neutral tint, to indicate that she is looking about 
 for a spouse; dark purple if she wishes to intimate that she has 
 made a choice; purple and orange when she is betrothed or 
 married; light blue when she is divorced or a widow and would 
 marry again. Light blue is of course seldom seen. 
 
 Among a people where all are of so high a type of beauty, it 
 is difficult to single out one as peculiarly handsome. My young 
 friend's choice seemed to me to possess the average of good 
 looks ; but there was an expression in her face that pleased me 
 more than did the faces of the young Gy-ei generally, because 
 it looked less bold less conscious of female rights. I observed 
 that, while she talked to Bra she glanced, from time to time, 
 sidelong at my young friend. 
 
 "Courage," said I; "that young Gy loves you." 
 
 "Ay, but if she will not say so, how am I the better for her 
 love?" 
 
 "Your mother is aware of your attachment?" 
 
 "Perhaps so. I never owned it to her. It would be un-Anly 
 to confide such weakness to a mother. I have told my father ; 
 he may have told it again to his wife." 
 
 "Will you permit me to quit you for a moment, and glide 
 behind your mother and your beloved? I am sure they are 
 talking about you. Do not hesitate. I promise that I will not 
 allow myself to be questioned till I rejoin you." 
 
 The young An pressed his hand on his heart, touched me 
 lightly on the head, and allowed me to quit his side. I stole 
 unobserved behind his mother and his beloved. I overheard 
 their talk. 
 
 Bra was speaking; said she: "There can be no doubt of 
 this: either my son, who is of marriageable age, will be decoyed 
 into marriage with one of his many suitors, or he will join those 
 who emigrate to a distance, and we shall see him no more. If 
 you really care for him, my dear Lo, you should propose." 
 
 "I do care for him, Bra; but I doubt if I could really ever 
 win his affections. He is fond of his inventions and timepieces ; 
 and I am not like Zee, but so dull that I fear I could not enter 
 into his favorite pursuits, and then he would get tired of me, 
 and at the end of three years divorce me, and I could never 
 marry another never. ' ' 
 
 "It is not necessary to know about timepieces to know how 
 to be so necessary to the happiness of an An who cares for
 
 102 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 timepieces, that he would rather give up the timepieces than 
 divorce his Gy. You see, my dear Lo," continued Bra, "that 
 precisely because we are the stronger sex we rule the other, 
 provided we never show our strength. If you were superior to 
 my son in making timepieces and automata you should, as his 
 wife, always let him suppose you thought him superior in that 
 art to yourself. The An tacitly allows the pre-eminence of the 
 Gy in all except his own special pursuit. But if she either ex- 
 cels him in that, or affects not to admire him for his proficiency 
 in it, he will not love her very long ; perhaps he may even di- 
 vorce her. But where a Gy really loves, she soon learns to 
 love all that the An does." 
 
 The young Gy made no answer to this address. She looked 
 down musingly, then a smile crept over her lips, and she rose, 
 still silent, and went through the crowd till she paused by the 
 young An who loved her. I followed her steps, but discreetly 
 stood at a little distance while I watched them. Somewhat to 
 my surprise, till I recollected the coy tactics among the Ana, 
 the lover seemed to receive her advances with an air of indiffer- 
 ence. He even moved away, but she pursued his steps, and, a 
 little time after, both spread their wings and vanished amid the 
 luminous space above. 
 
 Just then I was accosted by the chief magistrate, who mingled 
 with the crowd distinguished by no signs of deference or hom- 
 age. It so happened that I had not seen this great dignitary 
 since the day I had entered his dominions, and recalling Aph- 
 Lin's words as to his terrible doubt whether or not I should be 
 dissected, a shudder crept over me at the sight of his tranquil 
 countenance. 
 
 "I hear much of you, stranger, from my son Tae," said the 
 Tur, laying his hand politely on my bended head. "He is 
 very fond of your society, and I trust you are not displeased 
 with the customs of our people." 
 
 I muttered some unintelligible answer, which I intended 
 to be an assurance of my gratitude for the kindness I had 
 received from the Tur, and my admiration of his country- 
 men, but the dissecting-knife gleamed before my mind's 
 eye and choked my utterance. A softer voice said: "My 
 brother's friend must be dear to me." And looking up I saw 
 a young Gy, who might be sixteen years old, standing beside 
 the magistrate and gazing at me with a very benignant counte- 
 nance. She had not come to her full growth, and was scarcely 
 taller than myself (viz., about 5 feet 10 inches), and, thanks to 
 that comparatively diminutive stature, I thought her the loveliest
 
 THE COMING RACE. 103 
 
 Gy I had hitherto seen. I suppose something in my eyes re- 
 vealed that impression, for her countenance grew yet more 
 benignant. 
 
 "Tae tells me," she said, "that you have not yet learned to 
 accustom yourself to wings. That grieves me, for I should 
 have liked to fly with you." 
 
 "Alas!" I replied, "I can never hope to enjoy that happi- 
 ness. I am assured by Zee that the safe use of wings is a 
 hereditary gift, and it would take generations before one of my 
 race could poise himself in the air like a bird." 
 
 "Let not that thought vex you too much," replied this amia- 
 ble Princess, "for, after all, there must come a day when Zee 
 and myself must resign our wings forever. Perhaps when that 
 day comes, we might be glad if the An we chose was also with- 
 out wings." 
 
 The Tur had left us, and was lost amongst the crowd. I 
 began to feel at ease with Tae's charming sister, and rather 
 startled her by the boldness of my compliment in replying "that 
 no An she could choose would ever use his wings to fly away 
 from her." It is so against custom for an An to say such civil 
 things to a Gy till she has declared her passion for him, and been 
 accepted as his betrothed, that the young maiden stood quite 
 dumbfounded for a few moments. Nevertheless she did not 
 seem displeased. At last recovering herself, she invited me to 
 accompany her into one of the less crowded rooms and listen to 
 the songs of the birds. I followed her steps as she glided before 
 me, and she led me into a chamber almost deserted. A foun- 
 tain of naphtha was playing in the centre of the room ; round it 
 were ranged soft divans, and the walls of the room were open 
 on one side to an aviary in which the birds were chanting 
 their artful chorus. The Gy seated herself on one of the di- 
 vans, and I placed myself at her side. "Tae tells me," she 
 said, "that Aph-Lin has made it the law * of his house that you 
 are not to be questioned as to the country you come from or 
 the reason why you visit us. Is it so?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "May I, at least, without sinning against that law, ask at 
 least if the Gy-ei in your country are of the same pale color as 
 yourself, and no taller?" 
 
 "I do not think, O beautiful Gy, that I infringe the law of 
 
 * Literally " has said. In this house be it requested." Words synonymous with law, as 
 implying forcible obligation, are avoided by this singular people. Even had it been de- 
 creed by the Tur that his College of Sages should dissect me, the decree would have ran 
 blandly thus : " Be it requested that, for the good of the community, the carnivorous Tish 
 ^e requested to submit himself to dissection.
 
 ^104 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 Aph-Lin, which is more binding on myself than any one, if I 
 answer questions so innocent. The Gy-ei in my country are 
 much fairer of hue than I am, and their average height is at 
 least a head shorter than mine." 
 
 "They cannot then be so strong as the Ana amongst you? 
 But I suppose their superior vril force makes up for such ex- 
 traordinary disadvantage of size?" 
 
 "They do not possess the vril force as you know it. But 
 still they are very powerful in my country, and an An has small 
 chance of a happy life if he be not more or less governed by 
 his Gy." 
 
 "You speak feelingly," said Tae's sister, in a tone of voice 
 half-sad, half-petulant. "You are married, of course?' 
 
 "No, certainly not." 
 
 "Nor betrothed*?" 
 
 "Nor betrothed." 
 
 "Is it possible that no Gy has proposed to you?" 
 
 "In my country the Gy does not propose; the An speaks 
 first." 
 
 "What a strange reversal of the laws of nature!" said the 
 maiden, "and what want of modesty in your sex! But have 
 you never proposed, never loved one Gy more than another?" 
 
 I felt embarrassed by these ingenuous questionings, and said: 
 "Pardon me but I think we are beginning to infringe upon Aph- 
 Lin's injunction. Thus much only will I say in answer, and 
 then, I implore you, ask no more. I did once feel the preference 
 you speak of; I did propose and the Gy would willingly have 
 accepted me, but her parents refused their consent." 
 
 "Parents! Do you mean seriously to tell me that parents 
 can interfere with the choice of their daughters?" 
 
 "Indeed they can, and do very often." 
 
 "I should not like to live in that country," said the Gy sim- 
 ply; "but I hope you will never go back to it." 
 
 I bowed my head in silence. The Gy gently raised my face 
 with her right hand, and looked into it tenderly. "Stay with 
 us" she said; "stay with us, and be loved." 
 
 What I might have answered, what dangers of becoming a 
 cinder I might have encountered, I still tremble to think, when 
 the light of the naphtha fountain was obscured by the shadow of 
 wings ; and Zee, flying through the open roof, alighted beside 
 us. She said not a word, but taking my arm with her mighty 
 hand, she drew me away, as a mother draws a naughty child, 
 and kd me through the apartments to one of the corridors, on 
 which, by the mechanism they generally prefer to stairs, we
 
 THE COMING RACE. 165 
 
 ascended to my own room. This gained, Zee breathed on my 
 forehead, touched my breast with her staff, and I was instantly 
 plunged into a profound sleep. 
 
 When I awoke some hours later, and heard the song of the 
 birds in an adjoining aviary, the remembrance of Tae's sister, 
 her gentle looks and caressing words, vividly returned to me ; 
 and so impossible is it for one born and reared in our upper 
 world's state of society to divest himself of ideas dictated by 
 vanity and ambition, that I found myself instinctively building 
 proud castles in the air. 
 
 "Tish though I be," thus ran my meditations "Tish 
 though I be it is then clear that Zee is not the only Gy whom my 
 appearance can captivate. Evidently I am loved by A PRIN- 
 CESS, the first maiden of this land, the daughter of the abso- 
 lute Monarch whose autocracy they so idly seek to disguise by 
 the republican title of chief magistrate. But for the sudden 
 swoop of that horrible Zee, this Royal Lady would have for- 
 mally proposed to me ; and though it may be very well for 
 Aph-Lin, who is only a subordinate minister, a mere Commis- 
 sioner of Light, to threaten me with destruction if I accept his 
 daughter's hand, yet a Sovereign, whose word is law, could 
 compel the community to abrogate any custom that forbids in- 
 termarriage with one of a strange race, and which in itself is a 
 contradiction to their boasted equality of ranks. 
 
 "It is not to be supposed that his daughter, who spoke with 
 such incredulous scorn of the interference of parents, would 
 not have sufficient influence with her Royal Father to save me 
 from the combustion to which Aph-Lin would condemn my 
 form. And if I were exalted by such an alliance, who knows 
 but what the Monarch might elect me as his successor. Why 
 not? Few among this indolent race of philosophers like the 
 burden of such greatness. All might be pleased to see the 
 supreme power lodged in the hands of an accomplished stran- 
 ger who has experience of other and livelier forms of existence; 
 and, once chosen, what reforms I would institute! What ad- 
 ditions to the really pleasant but too montonous life of this 
 realm my familiarity with the civilized nations above ground 
 would effect! I am fond of the sports of the field. Next to 
 war, is not the chase a king's pastime? In what varieties of 
 strange game does this nether world abound ! How interest- 
 ing to strike down creatures that were known above ground 
 before the Deluge! But how? By that terrible vril, in which, 
 from want of hereditary transmission, I could never be a profi- 
 cient? No, but by a civilized handy breech-loader, which these
 
 106 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 ingenious mechanicians could not only make, but no doubt 
 improve; nay, surely I saw one in the Museum. Indeed, as 
 absolute king, I should discountenance vril altogether, except 
 in cases of war. Apropos of war, it is perfectly absurd to stint 
 a people so intelligent, so rich, so well armed, to a petty limit 
 of territory sufficing for 10,000 or 12,000 families. Is not this 
 restriction a mere philosophical crotchet, at variance with the 
 aspiring element in human nature, such as has been partially, 
 and with complete failure, tried in the upper world by the late 
 Mr. Robert Owen. Of course one would not go to war with 
 neighboring nations as well armed as one's own subjects ; but 
 then, what of those regions inhabited by races unacquainted 
 with vril, and apparently resembling, in their democratic insti- 
 tutions, my American countrymen? One might invade them 
 without offence to the vril nations, our allies, appropriate their 
 territories, extending, perhaps, to the most distant regions of 
 the nether earth, and thus rule over an empire in which the sun 
 never sets. (I forgot, in my enthusiasm, that over those re- 
 gions there was no sun to set.) As for the fantastical notion 
 against conceding fame or renown to an eminent individual, 
 because, forsooth, bestowal of honors insures contest in the 
 pursuit of them, stimulates angry passions, and mars the felic- 
 ity of peace it is opposed to the very elements, not only of 
 the human but the brute creation, which are all, if tamable, 
 participators in the sentiment of praise and emulation. What 
 renown would be given to a king who thus extended his em- 
 pire! I should be deemed a demigod." Thinking of that, 
 the other fanatical notion of regulating this life by reference to 
 one which, no doubt, we Christians firmly believe in, but never 
 take into consideration, I resolved that enlightened philosophy 
 compelled me to abolish a heathen religion so superstitiously at 
 variance with modern thought and practical action. Musing 
 over these various projects, I felt how much I should have 
 liked at that moment to brighten my wits by a good glass of 
 whiskey and water. Not that I am habitually a spirit-drinker, 
 but certainly there are times when a little stimulant of alcoholic 
 nature, taken with a cigar, enlivens the imagination. Yes; 
 certainly among these herbs and fruits there would be a liquid 
 from which one could extract a pleasant vinous alcohol; and 
 with a steak cut off one of those elks (ah ! what offence to 
 science to reject the animal food which our first medical men 
 agree in recommending to the gastric juices of mankind ! ), one 
 would certainly pass a more exhilarating hour of repast. 
 Then, too, instead of those antiquated dramas performed by
 
 THE COMING RACE. 107 
 
 childish amateurs, certainly, when I am king, I will introduce 
 our modern opera and a corps de ballet, for which one might 
 find, among the nations I shall conquer, young females of less 
 formidable height and thews than the Gy-ei not armed with 
 vril, and not insisting upon one's marrying them." 
 
 I was so completely rapt in these and similar reforms, politi- 
 cal, social, and moral, calculated to bestow on the people of 
 the nether world the blessings of a civilization known to the 
 races of the upper, that I did not perceive that Zee had entered 
 the chamber till I heard a deep sigh, and, raising my eyes, 
 beheld her standing by my couch. 
 
 I need not say that, according to the manners of this people, 
 a Gy can, without indecorum, visit an An in his chamber, 
 though an An would be considered forward and immodest to 
 the last degree if he entered the chamber of a Gy without pre- 
 viously obtaining her permission to do so. Fortunately I was 
 in the full habiliments I had worn when Zee had deposited me 
 on the couch. Nevertheless I felt much irritated, as well as 
 shocked, by her visit, and asked in a rude tone what she 
 wanted. 
 
 "Speak gently, beloved one, I entreat you," said she, "for I 
 am very unhappy. I have not slept since we parted." 
 
 "A due sense of your shameful conduct to me as your fath- 
 er's guest might well suffice to banish sleep from your eyelids. 
 Where was the affection you pretended to have for me? 
 Where was even that politeness on which the Vril-ya pride 
 themselves, when, taking advantage alike of that physical 
 strength in which your sex, in this extraordinary region, excels 
 our own, and of those detestable and unhallowed powers which 
 the agencies of vril invest in your eyes and finger-ends, you 
 exposed me to humiliation before your assembled visitors, 
 before Her Royal Highness I mean, the daughter of your 
 own chief magistrate carrying me off to bed like a naughty 
 infant, and plunging me into sleep, without asking my con- 
 sent?" 
 
 "Ungrateful! Do you reproach me for the evidences of my 
 love? Can you think that, even if unstung by the jealousy 
 which attends upon love till it fades away in blissful trust when 
 we knovr that the heart we have wooed is won, I could be in- 
 different to the perils to which the audacious overtures of that 
 silly little child might expose you?" 
 
 "Hold! Since you introduce the subject of perils, it per- 
 haps does not misbecome me to say that my most imminent 
 perils come from yourself, or at least would come if I believed
 
 io8 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 in your love and accepted your addresses. Your father has 
 told me plainly that in that case I should be consumed into a 
 cinder with as little compunction as if I were the reptile whom 
 Tae blasted into ashes with the flash of his wand." 
 
 "Do not let that fear chill your heart to me," exclaimed 
 Zee, dropping on her knees and absorbing my right hand in the 
 space of her ample palm. "It is true, indeed, that we two 
 cannot wed as those of the same race wed; true that the love 
 between us must be pure as that which, in our belief, exists 
 between lovers who reunite in the new life beyond that boun- 
 dary at which the old life ends. But is it not happiness 
 enough to be together, wedded in mind and in heart? Listen: 
 I have just left my father. He consents to our union on those 
 terms. I have sufficient influence with the College of Sages to 
 insure their request to the Tur not to interfere with the free 
 choice of a Gy, provided that her wedding with one of another 
 race be but the wedding of souls. Oh, think you that true 
 love needs ignoble union? It is not that I yearn only to be by 
 your side in this life, to be part and parcel of your joys and 
 sorrows here : I ask here for a tie which will bind us forever 
 and forever in the world of immortals. Do you reject me?" 
 
 As she spoke, she knelt, and the whole character of her face 
 was changed ; nothing of sternness left to its grandeur; a 
 divine light, as that of an immortal, shining out from its human 
 beauty. But she rather awed me as angel than moved me as 
 woman, and after an embarrassed pause, I faltered forth evasive 
 expressions of gratitude, and sought, as delicately as I could, 
 to point out how humiliating would be my position amongst 
 her race in the light of a husband who might never be per- 
 mitted the name of father." 
 
 "But," said Zee, "this community does not constitute the 
 whole world. No; nor do all the populations comprised in the 
 league of the Vril-ya. For thy sake I will renounce my coun- 
 try and my people. We will fly together to some region where 
 thou shalt be safe. I am strong enough to bear thee on my 
 wings across the deserts that intervene. I am skilled enough 
 to cleave open, amid the rocks, valleys in which to build our 
 home. Solitude and a hut with thee would be to me society 
 and the universe. Or wouldst thou return to thine own world, 
 above the surface of this, exposed to the uncertain seasons, 
 and lit but by the changeful orbs which constitute, by thy de- 
 scription, the fickle character of those savage regions? If so, 
 speak the word, and I will force the way for thy return, so that 
 I am thy companion there, though, there as here, but partner
 
 COMING RACfe. 'i6 
 
 of thy soul, and fellow-traveller with thee to the world in 
 which there is no parting and no death." 
 
 I could not but be deeply affected by the tenderness, at once 
 so pure and so impassioned, with which these words were 
 uttered, and in a voice that would have rendered musical the 
 roughest sounds in the rudest tongue. And for a moment it 
 did occur to me that I might avail myself of Zee's agency to 
 effect a safe and speedy return to the upper world. But a very 
 brief space for reflection sufficed to show me how dishonorable 
 and base a return for such devotion it would be to allure thus 
 away, from her own people and a home in which I had been so 
 hospitably treated, a creature to whom our world would be so 
 abhorrent, and for whose barren, if spiritual love, I could not 
 reconcile myself to renounce the more human affection of 
 mates less exalted above my erring self. With this sentiment 
 of duty towards the Gy combined another of duty towards the 
 whole race I belonged to. Could I venture to introduce into 
 the upper world a being so formidably gifted a being that 
 with a movement of her staff could in less than an hour reduce 
 New York and its glorious Koom-Posh into a pinch of snuff? 
 Rob her of one staff, with her science she could easily con- 
 struct another; and with the deadly lightnings that armed the 
 slender engine her whole frame was charged. If thus danger- 
 ous to the cities and populations of the whole upper earth, could 
 she be a safe companion to myself in case her affection should 
 be subjected to change or embittered by jealousy? These 
 thoughts, which it takes so many words to express, passed rap- 
 idly through my brain and decided my answer. 
 
 "Zee," I said, in the softest tones I could command, and 
 pressing respectful lips on the hand into whose clasp mine had 
 vanished; "Zee, I can find no words to say how deeply I am 
 touched and how highly I am honored, by a love so disinter- 
 ested and self-immolating. My best return to it is perfect 
 frankness. Each nation has its customs. The customs of 
 yours do not allow you towed me; the customs of mine are 
 equally opposed to such a union between those of races so 
 widely differing. On the other hand, though not deficient in 
 courage among my own people, or amid dangers with which I 
 am familiar, I cannot, without a shudder of horror, think of 
 constructing a bridal home in the heart of some dismal chaos, 
 with all the elements of nature, fire and water and mephitic 
 gases, at war with each other, and with the probability that at 
 some moment, while you were busied in cleaving rocks or con- 
 veying vril into lamps, I should be devoured by a krek which
 
 116 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 your operations disturbed from its hiding-place. I, a mere 
 Tish, do not deserve the love of a Gy, so brilliant, so learned, 
 so potent as yourself. Yes, I do not deserve that love, for I 
 cannot return it." 
 
 Zee released my hand, rose to her feet, and turned her face 
 away to hide her emotions ; then she glided noiselessly along 
 the room, and paused at the threshold. Suddenly, impelled as 
 by a new thought, she returned to my side and said, in a whis- 
 pered tone: 
 
 "You told me you would speak with perfect frankness. 
 With perfect frankness, then, answer me this question. If you 
 cannot love me, do you love another?" 
 
 "Certainly, I do not." 
 
 "You do not love Tae's sister?" 
 
 "I never saw her before last night." 
 
 "That is no answer. Love is swifter than vril. You hesi- 
 tate to tell me. Do not think it is only jealousy that prompts 
 me to caution you. If the Tur's daughter should declare love 
 to you if in her ignorance she confides to her father any pref- 
 erence that may justify his belief that she will woo you he will 
 have no option but to request your immediate destruction, as 
 he is specially charged with the duty of consulting the good of 
 the community, which could not allow a daughter of the Vril-ya 
 to wed a son of the Tish-a, in that sense of marriage which 
 does not confine itself to union of the souls. Alas! there 
 would then be for you no escape. She has no strength of wing 
 to uphold you through the air; she has no science wherewith 
 to make a home in the wilderness. Believe that here my 
 friendship speaks, and that my jealousy is silent." 
 
 With those words Zee left me. And recalling those words, 
 I thought no more of succeeding to the throne of the Vril-ya, 
 or of the political, social, and moral reforms I should institute 
 in the capacity of Absolute Sovereign. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AFTER the conversation with Zee just recorded, I fell into a 
 profound melancholy. The curious interest with which I had 
 hitherto examined the life and habits of this marvellous com- 
 munity was at an end. I could not banish from my mind the 
 consciousness that I was among a people who, however kind 
 and courteous, could destroy me at any moment without scru- 
 ple or compunction. The virtues and peaceful life of the peo- 
 ple which, while new to me, had seemed so holy a contrast to
 
 THE COMING RACE. Ill 
 
 the contentions, the passions, the vices of the upper world, now 
 began to oppress me with a sense of dulness and monotony. 
 Even the serene tranquillity of the lustrous air preyed on my 
 spirits. I longed for a change, even to winter, or storm, or 
 darkness. I began to feel that, whatever our dreams of per- 
 fectibility, our restless aspirations towards a better, and higher, 
 and calmer sphere of being, we, the mortals of the upper world, 
 are not trained or fitted to enjoy for long the very happiness of 
 which we dream or to which we aspire. 
 
 Now, in this social state of the Vril-ya, it was singular to mark 
 how it contrived to unite and to harmonize into one system 
 nearly all the objects which the various philosophers of the 
 upper world have placed be'fore human hopes as the ideals of a 
 Utopian future. It was a state in which war, with all its 
 calamities, was deemed impossible ; a state in which the free- 
 dom of all and each was secured to the uttermost degree, with- 
 out one of those animosities which make freedom in the upper 
 world depend on the perpetual strife of hostile parties 
 Here the corruption which debases democracies was as un- 
 known as the discontents which undermine the thrones of mon- 
 archies. Equality here was not a name; it was a reality. 
 Riches were not persecuted because they were not envied. 
 Here those problems connected with the labors of a working 
 class,hitherto insoluble above ground, and above ground conduc- 
 ing to such bitterness between classes, were solved by a process 
 the simplest, a distinct and separate working class was dis- 
 pensed with altogether. Mechanical inventions, constructed on 
 principles that baffled my research to ascertain, worked by an 
 agency infinitely more powerful and infinitely more easy of man- 
 agement than aught we have yet extracted from electricity or 
 steam, with the aid of children whose strength was never over- 
 tasked, but who loved their employment as sport and pastime, 
 sufficed to create a Public-wealth so devoted to the general use 
 that not a grumbler was ever heard of. The vices that rot our 
 cities, here had no footing. Amusements abounded, but they 
 were all innocent. No merry-makings conduced to intoxication, 
 to riot, to disease. Love existed, and was ardent in pursuit, 
 but its object once secured, was faithful. The adulterer, the 
 profligate, the harlot, were phenomena so unknown in this 
 commonwealth, that even to find the 'words by which they were 
 designated one would have had to search throughout an obso- 
 lete literature composed thousands of years before. They 
 who have been students of theoretical philosophies above 
 ground know that all these strange departures from civilized
 
 112 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 life do but realize ideas which have been broached, canvassed, 
 ridiculed, contested for; sometimes partially tried, and still put 
 forth in fantastic books, but have never come to practical 
 results. Nor were these all the steps towards theoretical perfec- 
 tibility which this community had made. It had been the 
 sober belief of Descartes that the life of man could be pro- 
 longed, not indeed, on this earth, to eternal duration, but to 
 what he called the age of the patriarchs, and modestly defined 
 to be from 100 to 150 years average length. Well, even this 
 dream of sages was here fulfilled nay, more than fulfilled ; for 
 the vigor of middle life was preserved even after the term of a 
 century was passed. With this longevity was combined a 
 greater blessing than itself that of continuous health. Such 
 diseases as befell the race were removed with ease by scientific 
 applications of that agency life-giving as life-destroying 
 which is inherent in vril. Even this idea is not unknown above 
 ground, though it has generally been confined to enthusiasts or 
 charlatans, and emanates from confused notions about mes- 
 merism, odic force, etc. Passing by such trivial contrivances 
 as wings, which every schoolboy knows has been tried and 
 found wanting, from the mythical or pre-historical period, I 
 proceed to that very delicate question, urged of late as essential 
 to the perfect happiness of our human species by the two most 
 disturbing and potential influences on upper-ground society 
 Womankind and Philosophy. I mean, the Rights of Women. 
 Now, it is allowed by jurisprudists that it is idle to talk of 
 rights where there are not corresponding powers to enforce 
 them ; and above ground, for some reason or other, man, in 
 his physical force, in the use of weapons offensive and defen- 
 sive, when it comes to positive personal contest, can, as a rule 
 of general application, master women. But among this people 
 there can be no doubt about the rights of women, because, as 
 I have before said, the Gy, physically speaking, is bigger and 
 stronger than the An ; and her will being also more resolute 
 than his, and will being essential to the direction of the vril 
 force, she can bring to bear upon him, more potently than he 
 on herself, the mystical agency which art can extract from the 
 occult properties of nature. Therefore all that our female phil- 
 osophers above ground contend for, as to rights of women, 
 is conceded as a matter of course in this happy commonwealth. 
 Besides such physical powers, the Gy-ei have (at least in youth) 
 a keen desire for accomplishments and learning which exceeds 
 that of the male ; and thus they are the scholars, the profes- 
 sors the learned portion, in short, of the community.
 
 THE COMING RACE. 113 
 
 Of course, in this state of society the female establishes, as I 
 have shown, her most valued privilege, that of choosing and 
 courting her wedding partner. Without that privilege she 
 would despise all the other's. Now, above ground, we should 
 not unreasonably apprehend that a female, thus potent and 
 thus privileged, when she had fairly hunted us down and mar- 
 ried us, would be very imperious and tyrannical. Not so with 
 the Gy-ei : once married, the wings once suspended, and more 
 amiable, complacent, docile mates, more sympathetic, more 
 sinking their loftier capacities into the study of their husbands' 
 comparatively frivolous tastes and whims, no poet could con- 
 ceive in his visions of conjugal bliss. Lastly, among the more 
 important characteristics of the Vril-ya, as distinguished from 
 our mankind lastly, and most important on the bearings of 
 their life and the peace of their commonwealth, is their univer- 
 sal agreement in the existence of a merciful, beneficent Deity, 
 and of a future world to the duration of which a century or 
 two are moments too brief to waste upon thoughts of fame and 
 power and avarice; while with that agreement is combined an- 
 other, viz., since they can know nothing as to the nature of 
 that Deity beyond the fact of His supreme goodness, nor of 
 that future world beyond the fact of-its felicitous existence, so 
 their reason forbids all angry disputes on insoluble questions. 
 Thus they secure for that state in the bowels of. the earth what 
 no community ever secured under the light of the stars all the 
 blessings and consolations of a religion without any of the evils 
 and calamities which are engendered by strife between one 
 religion and another. 
 
 It would be, then, utterly impossible to deny that the state 
 of existence among the Vril-ya is thus, as a whole, immeas- 
 urably more felicitous than that of superterrestrial races, and, 
 realizing the dreams of our most sanguine philanthropists al- 
 most approaches to a poet's conception of some angelical 
 order. And yet, if you would take a thousand of the best and 
 most philosophical of human beings you could find in London, 
 Paris, Berlin, New York, or even Boston, and place them as 
 citizens in this beatified community, my belief is, that in less 
 than a year they would either die of ennui, or attempt some 
 revolution by which they would militate against the good of the 
 community, and be burnt into cinders at the request of the Tur. 
 
 Certainly I have no desire to insinuate, through the medium 
 of this narrative, any ignorant disparagement of the race to 
 which I belong. I have, on the contrary, endeavored to make 
 it clear that the principles which regulate the social system of
 
 114 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 the Vril-ya forbid them to produce those individual examples 
 of human greatness which adorn the annals of the upper world. 
 Where there are no wars there can^e no Hannibal, no Wash- 
 ington, no Jackson, no Sheridan; where states are so happy that 
 they fear no danger and desire no change, they cannot give 
 birth to a Demosthenes, a Webster, a Sumner, a Wendell 
 Holmes, or a Butler; and where a society attains to a moral 
 standard, in which there are no crimes and no sorrows from 
 which tragedy can extract its aliment of pity and sorrow, no 
 salient vices or follies on which comedy can lavish its mirthful 
 satire, it has lost the chance of producing a Shakspeare, or a 
 Moliere, or a Mrs. Beecher Stowe. But if I have no desire to 
 disparage my fellow-men above ground in showing how much 
 the motives that impel the energies and ambition of individuals 
 in a society of contest and struggle, become dormant or an- 
 nulled in a society which aims at securing for the aggregate the 
 calm and innocent felicity which we presume to be the lot of 
 beatified immortals; neither, on the other hand, have I the 
 wish to represent the commonwealths of the Vril-ya as an ideal 
 form of political society, to the attainment of which our own 
 efforts of reform should be directed. On the contrary, it is 
 because we have so combined, throughout the series of ages, 
 the elements which compose human character, that it would be 
 utterly impossible for us to adopt the modes of life, or to rec- 
 oncile our passions to the modes of thought, among the 
 Vril-ya, that I arrived at the conviction that this people, 
 though originally not only of our human race, but, as seems to 
 me clear by the roots of their language, descended from the 
 same ancestors as the great Aryan family, from which in varied 
 streams has flowed the dominant civilization of the world ; and 
 having, according to their myths and their history, passed 
 through phases of society familiar to ourselves, had yet now 
 developed into a distinct species with which it was impossible 
 that any community in the upper world could amalgamate : and 
 that if they ever emerged from these nether recesses into the 
 light of day, they would, according to their own traditional 
 persuasions of their ultimate destiny, destroy and replace our 
 existent varieties of man. 
 
 It may, indeed, be said, since more than one Gy could be 
 found to conceive a partiality for so ordinary a type of our 
 superterrestrial race as myself, that even if the Vril-ya did ap- 
 pear above ground, we migbt be saved from extermination by 
 intermixture of race. But this is too sanguine a belief. In- 
 stances of such mesalliance would be as rare as those of inter-
 
 THE COMING RACE. 115 
 
 marriage between the Anglo-Saxon emigrants and the Red In- 
 dians. Nor would time be allowed for the operation of 
 familiar intercourse. The Vril-ya, on emerging, induced by 
 the charm of a sunlit heaven to form their settlements above 
 ground, would commence at once the work of destruction seize 
 upon the territories already cultivated, and clear off, without 
 scruple, all the inhabitants who resisted that invasion. And 
 considering their contempt for the institutions of Koom-Posh 
 or Popular Government, and the pugnacious valor of my be- 
 loved countrymen, I believe that if the Vril-ya first appeared 
 in free America as, being the choicest portion of the habit- 
 able earth, they would doubtless be induced to do and said : 
 "This quarter of the globe we take; Citizens of a Koom-Posh, 
 make way for the development of species in the Vril-ya," my 
 brave compatriots would show fight, and not a soul of them 
 would be left in this life, to rally round the Stars and Stripes, 
 at the end of a week. 
 
 I now saw but little of Zee, save at meals, when the family 
 assembled, and she was then reserved and silent. My appre- 
 hensions of danger from an affection I had so little encour- 
 aged or deserved, therefore, now faded away, but my dejection 
 continued to increase. I pined for escape to the upper world, 
 but I racked my brains in vain for any means to effect it. I 
 was never permitted to wander forth alone, so that I could not 
 even visit the spot on which I had alighted, and see if it were 
 possible to re-ascend to the mine. Nor even in the Silent 
 Hours, when the household was locked in sleep, could I have 
 let myself down from the lofty floor in which my apartment 
 was placed. I knew not how to command the automata who 
 stood mockingly at my beck beside the wall, nor could I ascer- 
 tain the springs by which were set in movement the platforms 
 that supplied the place of stairs. The knowledge how to avail 
 myself of these contrivances had been purposely withheld from 
 me. Oh, that I could but have learned the use of wings, so 
 freely here at the service of every infant, that I might have 
 escaped from the casement, regained the rocks, and buoyed 
 myself aloft through the chasm of which the perpendicular 
 sides forbade place for human footing ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 ON day, as I sat alone and brooding in my chamber, Tae 
 flew in at the open window, and alighted on the couch beside 
 me. I was always pleased with the visits of a child, in whose
 
 Il6 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 society, if humbled, I was less eclipsed than in that of Ana who 
 had completed their education and matured their understand- 
 ing. And as I was permitted to wander forth with him for my 
 companion, and as I longed to revisit the spot in which I had 
 descended into the nether world, I hastened to ask him if he 
 were at leisure for a stroll beyond the streets of the city. His 
 countenance seemed to me graver than usual as he replied: 
 "I came hither on purpose to invite you forth." 
 
 We soon found ourselves in the street, and had not gone far 
 from the house when we encountered five or six young Gy-ei 
 who were returning from the fields with baskets full of flowers, 
 and chanting a song in chorus as they walked. A young Gy 
 sings more often than she talks. They stopped on seeing us, 
 accosting Tag with familiar kindness, and me with the cour- 
 teous gallantry which distinguishes the Gy-ei in their manner 
 towards our weaker sex. 
 
 And here I may observe, that, though a virgin Gy is so frank 
 in her courtship to the individual she favors, there is nothing 
 that approaches to that general breadth and loudness of manner 
 which those young ladies of the Anglo-Saxon race, to whom 
 the distinguished epithet of "fast" is accorded, exhibit towards 
 young gentlemen whom they do not profess to love. No : the 
 bearing of the Gy-ei towards males in ordinary is very much 
 that of high-bred men in the gallant societies of the upper world 
 towards ladies whom they respect but do not woo ; deferen- 
 tial, complimentary, exquisitely polished what we should call 
 "chivalrous." 
 
 Certainly I was a little put out by the number of civil things, 
 addressed to my amour propre, which were said to me by these 
 courteous young Gy-ei. In the world I came from, a man would 
 have thought himself aggrieved, treated with irony, "chaffed" 
 (if so vulgar a slang word may be allowed on the authority of 
 the popular novelists who use it so freely), when one fair Gy 
 complimented me on the freshness of my complexion, another 
 on the choice of colors in my dress, a third, with a sly smile, on 
 the conquests I had made at Aph-Lin's entertainment. But I 
 knew already that all such language was what the French call 
 banal ; and did but express in the female mouth, below earth, 
 that sort of desire to pass for amiable with the opposite sex 
 which, above earth, arbitrary custom and hereditary transmis- 
 sion demonstrate by the mouth of the male. And just as a 
 high bred young lady above earth, habituated to such compli- 
 ments, feels that she cannot, without impropriety, return them, 
 nor evince any great satisfaction at receiving them; so I, who
 
 THE COMING RACE. H7 
 
 had learned polite manners at the house of so wealthy and dig- 
 nified a Minister of that nation, could but smile, and try to look 
 pretty, in bashfully disclaiming the compliments showered upon 
 me. While we were thus talking, Tae's sister, it seems, had 
 seen us from the upper rooms of the Royal Palace at the en- 
 trance of the town, and, precipitating herself on her wings, 
 alighted in the midst of the group. 
 
 Singling me out, she said, though still with the inimitable 
 deference of manner which I have called "chivalrous," yet not 
 without a certain abruptness of tone which, as addressed to the 
 weaker sex, Sir Philip Sydney might have termed "rustic," 
 "Why do you never come to see us?" 
 
 While I was deliberating on the right answer to give to 
 this unlooked-for question, Tae said quickly and sternly: "Sis- 
 ter, you forget the stranger is of my sex. It is not for per- 
 sons of my sex, having due regard for reputation and modesty, 
 to lower themselves by running after the society of yours." 
 
 This speech was received with evident approval by the young 
 Gy-ei in general; but Tae's sister looked greatly abashed. 
 Poor thing! and a PRINCESS too! 
 
 Just at this moment a shadow fell on the space between me 
 and the group ; and, turning round, I beheld the chief magis- 
 trate coming close upon us, with the silent and stately pace 
 peculiar to the Vril-ya. At the sight of his countenance, the 
 same terror which had seized me when I first beheld it returned. 
 On that brow, in those eyes, there was that same indefinable 
 something which marked the being of a race fatal to our own 
 that strange expression of serene exemption from our common 
 cares and passions, of conscious superior power, compassionate 
 and inflexible as that of a judge who pronounces doom. I 
 shivered and, inclining low, pressed the arm of my child-friend, 
 and drew him onward silently. The Tur placed himself before 
 our path, regarded me for a moment without speaking, then 
 turned his eye quietly on his daughter's face, and with a grave 
 salutation to her and the other Gy-ei, went through the midst 
 of the group still without a word. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 WHEN Tae and I found ourselves alone on the broad road 
 that lay between the city and the chasm through which I had 
 descended into this region beneath the light of the stars and 
 sun, I said under my breath: "Child and friend, there is a look
 
 Tl8 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 in your father's face which appals me. I feel as if, in its aw- 
 ful tranquillity, I gazed upon death." 
 
 Tae did not immediately reply. He seemed agitated, and as 
 if debating with himself by what words to soften some unwel- 
 come intelligence. At last he said: "None of the Vril-ya fear 
 death: do you?" 
 
 "The dread of death is implanted in the breasts of the race 
 to which I belong. We can conquer it at the call of duty, of 
 honor, of love. We can die for a truth, for a native land, for 
 those who are dearer to us than ourselves. But if death do 
 really threaten me now and here, where are such counteractions 
 to the natural instinct which invests with awe and terror the 
 contemplation of severance between soul and body?" 
 
 Tae looked surprised, but there was great tenderness in his 
 voice as he replied : "I will tell my father what you say. I 
 will entreat him to spare your life." 
 
 "He has, then, already decreed to destroy it?" 
 
 " "Tis my sister's fault or folly," said Tae, with some petu- 
 lance. "But she spoke this morning to my father; and, after 
 she had spoken, he summoned me, as a chief among the chil- 
 dren who are commissioned to destroy such lives as threaten 
 the community, and he said tome: 'Take thy vril staff, and 
 seek the stranger who has made himself dear to thee. Be his 
 end painless and prompt.' ' 
 
 "And," I faltered, recoiling from the child "and it is, 
 then, for my murder that thus treacherously thou hast invited 
 me forth? No, I cannot believe it. I cannot think thee guilty 
 of such a crime." 
 
 "It is no crime to slay those who threaten the good of the 
 community ; it would be a crime to slay the smallest insect that 
 cannot harm us." 
 
 "If you mean that I threaten the good of the community be- 
 cause your sister honors me with the sort of preference which 
 a child may feel for a strange plaything, it is not necessary to 
 kill me. Let me return to the people I have left, and by the 
 chasm through which I descended. With a slight help from 
 you, I might do so now. You, by the aid of your wings, could 
 fasten to the rocky ledge within the chasm the cord that you 
 found, and have no doubt preserved. Do but that ; assist me 
 but to the spot from which I alighted, and I vanish from your 
 world forever and as surely as if I were among the dead." 
 
 "The chasm through which you descended! Look round; 
 we stand now on the very place where it yawned. What see 
 you? Only solid rock. The chasm was closed, by the orders
 
 THE COMING RACE. 119 
 
 of Aph-Lin, as soon as communication between him and your- 
 self was established in your trance, and he learned from your 
 own lips the nature of the world from which you came. Do 
 you not remember when Zee bade me not question you as to 
 yourself or your race? On quitting you that day, Aph-Lin ac- 
 costed me, and said: 'No path between the stranger's home 
 and ours should be left unclosed, or the sorrow and evil of his 
 home may descend to ours. Take with thee the children of 
 thy band, smite the sides of the cavern with your vril staves 
 till the fall of their fragments fills up every chink through which 
 a gleam of our lamps could force its way.' ' 
 
 As the child spoke, I stared aghast at the blind rocks before 
 me. Huge and irregular, the granite masses, showing by 
 charred discoloration where they had been shattered, rose from 
 footing to roof-top; not a cranny! 
 
 "All hope, then, is gone," I murmured, sinking down on the 
 craggy wayside, "and I shall nevermore see the sun." I cov- 
 ered my face with my hands, and prayed to Him whose presence 
 I had so often forgotten when the heavens had declared His 
 handiwork. I felt His presence in the depths of the nether 
 earth, and amid the world of the grave. I looked up, taking 
 comfort and courage from my prayers, and gazing with a quiet 
 smile into the face of the child, said: "Now, if thou must slay 
 me, strike." 
 
 Tae shook his head gently. "Nay," he said, "my father's 
 request is not so formally made as to leave me no choice. I 
 will speak with him, and I may prevail to save thee. Strange 
 that thou shouldst have that fear of death which we thought 
 was only the instinct of the inferior creatures, to whom the con- 
 viction of another life has not been vouchsafed. With us, not 
 an infant knows such a fear. Tell me, my dear Tish," he con- 
 tinued after a little pause, "would it reconcile thee more to 
 departure from this form of life to that form which lies on the 
 other side of the moment called 'death,' did I share thy jour- 
 ney? If so, I will ask my father whether it be allowable for 
 me to go with thee. I am one of our generation destined to 
 emigrate when of age for it, to some regions unknown within 
 this world. I would just as soon emigrate now to regions un- 
 known in another world. The All-Good is no less there than 
 here. Where is He not?" 
 
 "Child," said I, seeing by Tae's countenance that he spoke 
 in serious earnest, "it is crime in thee to slay me ; it were a 
 crime not less in me to say 'Slay thyself.' The All-Good 
 chooses His own time to give us life, and His own time to
 
 120 . THE COMING RACE. 
 
 take it away. Let us go back. If, on speaking with thy father, 
 he decides on my death, give me the longest warning in thy 
 power, so that I may pass the interval in self-preparation." 
 
 We walked back to the city, conversing but by fits and starts. 
 We could not understand each other's reasonings, and I felt 
 for the fair child, with his soft voice and beautiful face, much 
 as a convict feels for the executioner who walks beside him to 
 the place of doom. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IN the midst of those hours set apart for sleep and constitut- 
 ing the night of the Vril-ya, I was awakened from the disturbed 
 slumber into which I had not long fallen, by a hand on my 
 shoulder. I started, and beheld Zee standing beside me. 
 
 "Hush," she said in a whisper; "let no one hear us. Dost 
 thou think that I have ceased to watch over thy safety because 
 I could not win thy love? I have seen Tae. He has not pre- 
 vailed with his father, who had meanwhile conferred with the 
 three sages whom, in doubtful matters, he takes into council, 
 and by their advice he has ordained thee to perish when the 
 world reawakens to life. I will save thee. Rise and dress." 
 
 Zee pointed to a table by the couch on which I saw the 
 clothes I had worn on quitting the upper world, and which I 
 had exchanged subsequently for the more picturesque garments 
 of the Vril-ya. The young Gy then moved towards the case- 
 ment and stepped into the balcony, while hastily and wonder- 
 ingly I donned my own habiliments. When I joined her on 
 the balcony her face was pale and rigid. Taking me by the 
 hand, she said softly: "See how brightly the art of the Vril- 
 ya has lighted up the world in which they dwell. To-morrow 
 that world will be dark tome." She drew me back into the 
 room without waiting for my answer, thence into the corridor, 
 from which we descended into the hall. We passed into the 
 deserted streets and along the broad upward road which wound 
 beneath the rocks. Here, where there is neither day nor night, 
 the Silent Hours are unutterably solemn the vast space il- 
 lumined by mortal skill is so wholly without the sight and stir 
 of mortal life. Soft as were our footsteps, their sounds vexed 
 the ear, as out of harmony with the universal repose. I was 
 aware in my own mind, though Zee said it not, that she had 
 decided to assist my return to the upper world, and that we 
 were bound towards the place from which I had descended. 
 Her silence infected me, and commanded mine, And now we
 
 THE COMING RACE. 121 
 
 approached the chasm. It had been reopened ; not presenting 
 indeed, the same aspect as when I had emerged from it, but 
 through that closed wall of rock before which I had last stood 
 with Tae, a new cleft had been riven, and along its blackened 
 sides still glimmered sparks and smouldered embers. My up- 
 ward gaze could not, however, penetrate more than a few feet 
 into the darkness of the hollow void, and I stood dismayed, 
 and wondering how that grim ascent was to be made. 
 
 Zee divined my doubt. "Fear not," said she, with a faint 
 smile; "your return is assured. I began this work when the 
 Silent Hours commenced, and all else were asleep : believe that 
 I did not pause till the path back into thy world was clear. I 
 shall be with thee a little while yet. We do not part until thou 
 sayest: 'Go, for I need thee no more.' ' 
 
 My heart smote me with remorse at these words. "Ah!" 
 I exclaimed, "would that thou wert of my race or I of thine, 
 then I should never say, 'I need thee no more.' ' 
 
 "I bless thee for those words, and I shall remember them 
 when thou art gone," answered the Gy tenderly. 
 
 During this brief interchange of words, Zee had turned away 
 from me, her form bent and her head bowed over her breast. 
 Now, she rose to the full height of her grand stature, and stood 
 fronting me. While she had been thus averted from my gaze, 
 she had lighted up the circlet that she wore round her brow, 
 so that it blazed as if it were a crown of stars. Not only her 
 face and her form, but the atmosphere around, were illumined 
 by the effulgence of the diadem. 
 
 "Now," said she, "put thine arms around me for the first 
 and last time. Nay, thus; courage, and cling firm." 
 
 As she spoke her form dilated, the vast wings expanded. 
 Clinging to her, I was borne aloft through the terrible chasm. 
 The starry light from her forehead shot around and before us 
 through the darkness. Brightly, and steadfastly, and swiftly 
 as an angel may soar heavenward with the soul it rescues from 
 the grave, went the flight of the Gy, till I heard in the distance 
 the hum of human voices, the sounds of human toil. We 
 halted on the flooring of one of the galleries of the mine, and 
 beyond, in the vista, burned the dim, rare, feeble lamps of the 
 miners. Then I released my hold. The Gy kissed me on my 
 forehead passionately, but as with a mother's passion, and said, 
 as the tears gushed from her eyes: "Farewell forever. Thou 
 wilt not let me go into thy world thou canst never return to 
 mine. Ere our household shake off slumber, the rocks will 
 have again closed over the chasm, not to be reopened by me
 
 122 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 nor perhaps by others, for ages yet unguessed. Think of me 
 sometimes, and with kindness. When I reach the life that lies 
 beyond this speck in time, I shall look around for thee. Even 
 there, the world consigned to thy self and thy people may have 
 rocks and gulfs which divide it from that in which I rejoin those 
 of my race that have gone before, and I may be powerless to 
 cleave way to regain thee as I have cloven way to lose." 
 
 Her voice ceased. I heard the swan-like sough of her wings, 
 and saw the rays of her starry diadem receding far and farther 
 through the gloom. 
 
 I sate myself down for some time, musing sorrowfully ; then 
 I rose and took my way with slow footsteps towards the place 
 in which I heard the sounds of men. The miners I encountered 
 were strange to me, of another nation than my own. They 
 turned to look at me with some surprise, but finding that I 
 could not answer their brief questions in their own language, 
 they returned to their work and suffered me to pass on un- 
 molested. In fine, I regained the mouth of the mine, little 
 troubled by other interrogatories save those of a friendly 
 official to whom I was known, and luckily he was too busy to 
 talk much with me. I took care not to return to my former 
 lodging, but hastened that very day to quit a neighborhood 
 where I could not long have escaped inquiries to which I could 
 have given no satisfactory answers. I regained in safety my 
 own country, in which I have been long peacefully settled, and 
 engaged in practical business, till I retired, on a competent 
 fortune, three years ago. I have been little invited and little 
 tempted to talk of the rovings and adventures of my youth. 
 Somewhat disappointed, as most men are, in matters connected 
 with household love and domestic life, I often think of the 
 young Gy as I sit alone at night, and wonder how I could have 
 rejected such a love, no matter what dangers attended it, or by 
 what conditions it was restricted. Only, the more I think of a 
 people calmly developing, in regions excluded from our sight 
 and deemed uninhabitable by our sages, powers surpassing our 
 most disciplined modes of force, and virtues to which our life, 
 social and political, becomes antagonistic in proportion as our 
 civilization advances, the more devoutly I pray that ages may 
 yet elapse before there emerge into sunlight our inevitable de- 
 stroyers. Being, however, frankly told by my physician that I 
 am afflicted by a complaint which, though it gives little pain 
 and no perceptible notice of its encroachments, may at any 
 moment be fatal, I have thought it my duty to my fellow-men 
 to place on record these forewarnings of The Coming Race.
 
 A OOt 002 41 *