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 IN THE WRONG PARADISE 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 BALLADES IN BLUE CHINA. 
 
 Sixth Edition. Elzevir 87 v, cloth., 5-y. 
 
 RHYMES A LA MODE. 
 
 With Frontispiece by 1>. A. Abbey. 
 Second Edition. Elzevir %vo, cloth., ^s. 
 
 London : Kegan Paul, Trench & Co.
 
 In the Wrong Paradise 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 I5Y 
 
 ANDREW LANG 
 
 NEW EDITION 
 
 LONDON 
 REGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., i, TATERNOSTER SQUARE
 
 f The Hghts of translalion and of rcfToduction are reserved^)
 
 PR 
 
 135 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 Dear Rider Haggard, 
 
 I have asked you to let nic put your 
 name here, that I might have the opportunity of 
 saying how much pleasure I owe to your romances. 
 They make one a boy again while one is reading 
 them ; and the student of "The Witch's Head" and 
 of " King Solomon's Mines " is as young, in heart, as 
 when he hunted long ago with Chingachgook and 
 Uncas. You, who know the noble barbarian in his 
 African retreats, appear to retain more than most 
 men of his fresh natural imagination. We are all 
 savages under our white skins ; but you alone recall 
 to us the delights and terrors of the world's nonage. 
 We are hunters again, trappers, adventurers bold, 
 while we study you, and the blithe barbarian wakens 
 even in the weary person of letters. He forgets proof- 
 sheets and papers, and the "young lion" seeks his 
 food from God, in the fearless ancient way, with bow 
 or rifle. Of all modern heroes of romance, the dearest 
 to me is vour faithful Zulu, and I own I cried when 
 
 p- r> 
 
 l05CSao
 
 VI DEDICATION. 
 
 he bade farewell to his English master, in "The 
 Witch's Head." 
 
 In the following tales the natural man takes a 
 hand, but he is seen through civilized spectacles, not, 
 as in your delightful books, with the eyes of the 
 sympathetic sportsman. If Why-Why and Mr. Gowles 
 amuse you a little, let this be my Diomedean exchange 
 of bronze for gold— of the new Phasacia for Kukuana- 
 land, or for that haunted city of Kor, in which your 
 fair Ayesha dwells undying, as yet unknown to the 
 future lovers of SJie. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 A. LANG. 
 
 Cromer, Au^tut 29, 1886.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The writer of these apologues hopes that the 
 Rev. Mr. Gowles will not be regarded as his 
 idea of a typical missionary. The country- 
 men of Codrington and Callaway, of Pattcson 
 and Livingstone, know better what mission- 
 aries may be, and often are. But the wrong 
 sort as well as the right sort exists eveiy- 
 where, and Mr. Gowles is not a very gross 
 caricature of the ignorant teacher of heathen- 
 dom. I am convinced that he would have 
 seen nothing but a set of darkened savages 
 in the ancient Greeks. The religious eccen- 
 tricities of the Hellenes are not exaggerated 
 in "The End of Pha^acia ;" nay, Mr. Gowles 
 might have seen odder things in Attica than 
 he discovered, or chose to record, in Booth- 
 land.
 
 via PREFACE 
 
 To avoid the charge of plagiarism, perhaps 
 it should be mentioned that " The Romance of 
 the First Radical " was written long before 
 I read Tanner's "Narrative of a Captivity 
 among the Indians." Tanner, like Why- Why, 
 had trouble with the chief medicine-man of 
 his community. 
 
 If my dear kinsman and companion of old 
 days, J. J. A., reads " My Friend the Beach- 
 comber," he will recognize many of his own 
 yarns, but the portrait of the narrator is 
 wholly fanciful. 
 
 " In Castle Perilous " and "A Cheap Nigger " 
 are reprinted from the Cornhill Magazine ; 
 "My Friend the Beach-comber," from Lonz- 
 man's; "The Great Gladstone Myth," from 
 Macmillan's ; " In the Wrong Paradise,'' 
 from the FortnigJitly Reviezv ; "A Duchess's 
 Secret," from the Overland Mail ; "The Ro- 
 mance of the First Radical," from Fraset's 
 Magazine ; and "The End of Phaacia/' from 
 Time, by the courteous permission of the 
 editors and proprietors of those periodicals.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 TiiK End of Ph>i:acia ... ... ... i 
 
 I. Introductory ... ... ... 3 
 
 II. Narrative of -Mr. Gowles ... .. 6 
 
 III. The Prophecy ... ... ... 21 
 
 IV. At the Chiefs House... ... .. 26 
 
 V. A Stranger arrives ... 42 
 
 VI. A Backslider. A Warning ... 54 
 
 VII. Flight ... ... ,. 77 
 
 VIII. Saved! ... ... 87 
 
 In the Wrong Paradise ... ... 109 
 
 A Cheap Nigger ... ... ... ... 137 
 
 The Romance of the First Radical ... 177 
 
 A Prehistoric Apologue ... ... ... 179 
 
 The Youth of Why-Why ... ... 182 
 
 The Manhood of Why- Why ... ... ... 192 
 
 The Loves of Verva and AVhy-Why ... 197 
 
 La Mort Why-Why ... ... ... ... 205 
 
 A Duchess's Secret ... ... ... 211 
 
 The House of Strange Stories ... ... 231 
 
 In Castle Perilous ... ... ... 259 
 
 The Great Gladstone Myth... ... ... 281 
 
 My Friend the Beach-comber ... ... 301
 
 THE END OF PH^ACIA. 
 
 \V
 
 THE END OF PIIiiACIA. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY.* 
 
 The Rev. Thomas Gowles, well known in 
 Colonial circles where the Truth is valued, 
 as " the Boanerges of the Pacific," departed 
 this life at Hackney Wick, on the 6th of 
 March, 1885. The Laodiceans in our midst 
 have ventured to affirm that the world at 
 large has been a more restful place since Mr. 
 Gowles was taken from his corner of the 
 vineyard. The Boanerges of the Pacific was, 
 indeed, one of those rarely-gifted souls, souls 
 like a Luther or a Knox, who can tolerate no 
 contradiction, and will palter with no com- 
 promise, where the Truth is concerned. 
 
 * From IVandering Slicep, the Bungletonian Missionary 
 Record.
 
 4 THE END OF PH/EACIA. 
 
 Papists, Puscyites, Presbyterians, and Pagans 
 alike, found in Mr. Gowles an opponent whose 
 convictions were firm as a rock, and whose 
 method of proclaiming the Truth was as the 
 sound of a trumpet. Examples of his singular 
 courage and daring in the work of the ministry 
 abound in the following narrative. Born and 
 brought up in the Bungletonian communion, 
 himself collaterally connected, by a sister's 
 marriage, with Jedediah Bungleton, the revered 
 founder of the Very Particular People, Gowles 
 was inaccessible to the scepticism of the age. 
 His youth, it is true, had been stormy, like 
 that of many a brand afterwards promoted to 
 being a vessel. His worldly education was of 
 the most elementary and indeed eleemosynary 
 description, consequently he despised secular 
 learning, and science " falsely so called." It is 
 recorded of him that he had almost a distaste 
 for those difficult chapters of the Epistles in 
 which St. Paul mentions by name his Greek 
 friends and converts. In a controversy with 
 an Oxford scholar, conducted in the open air, 
 under the Martyrs' Memorial in that centre 
 of careless professors, Gowles had spoken of 
 " Nicodemus," " Eubiilus," and " Stephanas." 
 His unmannerly antagonist jeering at these
 
 INTRODUCTORY. S 
 
 slips of pronunciation, Gowles uttered his 
 celebrated and crushing retort, " Did Paul 
 know Greek ? " The young man, his opponent, 
 went away, silenced if not convinced. 
 
 Such a man was the Rev. Thomas Gowles 
 in his home ministry. Circumstances called 
 him to that wider field of usefulness, the 
 Pacific, in which so many millions of our 
 dusky brethren cither worship owls, butterflies, 
 sharks, and lizards, or are led away captive by 
 the seductive pomps of the Scarlet Woman, or 
 lapse languidly into the lap of a bloated and 
 Erastian establishment, ignorant of the Truth 
 as possessed by our community. Against all 
 these forms of soul-destroying error the Rev. 
 Thomas Gowles thundered nobly, " passing," 
 as an admirer said, " like an evangelical 
 cyclone, from the New Hebrides to the 
 Aleutian Islands." It was during one of his 
 missionary voyages, in a labour vessel, the 
 Blackbird^ that the following singular events 
 occurred, events which Mr. Gowles faithfully 
 recorded, as will be seen, in his missionary 
 narrative. We omit, as of purely secular 
 interest, the description of the storm which 
 wrecked the Blackbird, the account of the 
 destruction of the steamer with all hands (not,
 
 6 THE END OF PHyEACIA. 
 
 let US try to hope, with all souls) on board, 
 and everything that transpired till Mr, Gowles 
 found himself alone, the sole survivor, and 
 bestriding the mast in the midst of a tem- 
 pestuous sea. What follows is from the record 
 kept on pieces of skin, shards of pottery, 
 plates of metal, papyrus leaves, and other 
 strange substitutes for paper, used by Mr. 
 Gowles during his captivity. 
 
 II. 
 
 NARRATIVE OF MR. GOWLES.* 
 
 " I MUST now, though in sore straits for 
 writing materials, and having entirely lost 
 count of time, post up my diary, or rather 
 commence my narrative. So far as I can 
 learn from the jargon of the strange and lost 
 people among whom Providence has cast me, 
 this is, in their speech, the last of the month, 
 Thargeelyun, as near as I can imitate the 
 sound in English. Being in doubt as to the 
 true time, I am resolved to regard to-morrow, 
 and every seventh day in succession, as the 
 
 * 1884. Date unknown. Month probably June;
 
 NARRATIVE OF MR. GOWLES. ^ 
 
 Sabbath. The very natives, I have observed 
 with great interest, keep one day at fixed 
 intervals sacred to the Sun-god, whom they 
 call Apollon, perhaps the same word as 
 Apollyon. On this day they do no manner 
 of work, but that is hardly an exception 
 to their usual habits. A less industrious 
 people (slaves and all) I never met, even in 
 the Pacific. As to being more than common 
 idle on one day out of seven, whether they 
 have been taught so much of what is essential 
 by some earlier missionary, or whether they 
 maybe the corrupted descendants of the Lost 
 Tribes (whom they do not, however, at all 
 resemble outwardly, being, I must admit, of 
 prepossessing appearance), I can only conjec- 
 ture. This Apollon of theirs, in his graven 
 images (of which there are many), carries a 
 bow and arrows, fiery darts of the tvicked, 
 'another point in common between him and 
 Apollyon, in the Pilgrim's Progress. May I, 
 like Christian, turn aside and quench his 
 artillery ! 
 
 To return to my narrative. When I 
 recovered consciousness, after the sinking of 
 the Blackbird, I found myself alone, clinging 
 to the mast. Now was I tossed on the crest
 
 8 THE END OF EHMACIA. 
 
 of the wave, now the waters opened beneath 
 me, and I sank down in the valleys of the 
 sea. Cold, numbed, and all but lifeless, I had 
 given up hope of earthly existence, and was 
 nearly insensible, when I began to revive 
 beneath the rays of the sun. 
 
 The sea, though still moved by a swell, 
 was now much smoother, and, but for a 
 strange vision, I might have believed that I 
 was recovering my strength. I must, how- 
 ever, have been delirious or dreaming, for it 
 appeared to me that a foreign female, of pre- 
 possessing exterior, though somewhat indeli- 
 cately dressed, arose out of the waters close 
 by my side, as lightly as if she had been a 
 sea-gull on the wing. About her head there 
 was wreathed a kind of muslin scarf, which 
 she unwound and offered to me, indicating 
 that I was to tic it about my waist, and it 
 would preserve me from harm. So weak and 
 exhausted was I that, without thinking, I did 
 her biddiag, and then lost sight of the female. 
 Presently, as it seemed (but I was so drowsy 
 that the time may have been longer than I 
 fancied), I caught sight of land from the crest 
 of a wave. Steep blue cliffs arose far away 
 out of a white cloud of surf, and, though a
 
 NARRATIVE OF MR. GOIVLES. 9 
 
 strong swimmer, I had little hope of reaching 
 the shore in safety. 
 
 Fortunately, or rather, I should say, provi- 
 dentially, the current and tide-rip carried me 
 to the mouth of a river, and, with a great 
 effort, I got into the shoal-water, and finally 
 staggered out on shore. There was a wood 
 hard by, and thither I dragged myself. The 
 sun was in mid heavens and very warm, and 
 1 managed to dry my clothes. I am always 
 most particular to wear the dress of my 
 calling, observing that it has a peculiar and 
 gratifying effect on the minds of the natives. 
 I soon dried my tall hat, which, during the 
 storm, I had attached to my button-hole by 
 a string, and, though it was a good deal 
 battered, I was not without hopes of partially 
 restoring its gloss and air of British respecta- 
 bility. As will be seen, this precaution was, 
 curiously enough, the human means of 
 preserving my life. IMy hat, my black 
 clothes, my white neck-tie, and the hymn- 
 book I carry would, I was convinced, secure 
 for me a favourable reception among the 
 natives (if of the gentle brown Polynesian 
 type), whom I expected to find on the island. 
 Exhausted by my sufferings, I now fell
 
 10 THE END OF PILEACIA. 
 
 asleep, but was soon wakened by loud cries 
 of anguish uttered at no great distance. I 
 started to my feet, and beheld an extra- 
 ordinary spectacle, which at once assured me 
 that I had fallen among natives of the worst 
 and lowest type. The dark places of the 
 earth are, indeed, full of horrid cruelty. 
 
 The first cries which had roused me must 
 have been comparatively distant, though 
 piercing, and even now they reached me 
 confused in the notes of a melancholy chant 
 or hymn. But the shrieks grew more shrill. 
 and I thought I could distinguish the screams 
 of a woman in pain or dread from the groans 
 drawn with more difficulty from a man. I 
 leaped up, and, climbing a high part of the 
 river bank, I beheld, within a couple of 
 hundred yards, an extraordinary procession 
 coming from the inner country towards the 
 mouth of the stream. 
 
 At first I had only a confused view of. 
 bright stuffs — white, blue, and red — and the 
 shining of metal objects, in the midst of a 
 crowd partly concealed by the dust they 
 raised on their way. Very much to my 
 surprise I found that they were advancing 
 along a wide road, paved in a peculiar manner,
 
 NARRATIVE OF MR. GOWI.ES. il 
 
 for I had never seen anything of this kind 
 among the heathen tribes of the Pacific. 
 Their dresses, too, though for the most part 
 mere wraps, as it were, of coloured stuff, 
 thrown round them, pinned with brooches, 
 and often clinging in a very improper way to 
 the figure, did not remind me of the costume 
 (what there is of it) of Samoans, Fijians, or 
 other natives among whom I have been 
 privileged to labour. 
 
 But these observations give a more minute 
 impression of what I saw than, for the 
 moment, I had time to take in. The fore- 
 most part of the procession consisted of boys, 
 many of them almost naked. Their hands 
 were full of branches, wreathed in a curious 
 manner with strips of white or coloured wools. 
 They were all singing, and were led by a 
 woman carrying in her arms a mis-shapen 
 wooden idol, not much unlike those which 
 are too frequent spectacles all over the 
 Pacific. Behind the boys I could now 
 distinctly behold a man and woman of the 
 Polynesian type, naked to the waist, and 
 staggering with bent backs beneath showers 
 of blows. The people behind them, who were 
 almost as light in colour as ourselves, were
 
 12 THE END OF PH/EACIA. 
 
 cruelly flogging them with cutting branches 
 of trees. Round the necks of the unfor- 
 tunate victims — criminals I presumed — were 
 hung chains of white and black figs, and 
 in their hands they held certain herbs, figs, 
 and cheese, for what purpose I was, and 
 remain, unable to conjecture. Whenever 
 their cries were still for a moment, the woman 
 who carried the idol turned round, and lifted 
 it in her arms with words which I was unable 
 to understand, urging on the tormentors to 
 ply their switches with more severity. 
 
 Naturally I was alarmed by the strangeness 
 and ferocity of the natives, so I concealed 
 myself hastily in some brushwood behind a 
 large tree. Much to my horror I found that 
 the screams, groans, and singing only drew 
 nearer and nearer. The procession then 
 passed me so close that I could see blood 
 on the backs of the victims, and on their faces 
 an awful dread and apprehension. Finally, 
 the crowd reached the mouth of the river, at 
 the very place where I had escaped from the 
 sea. By aid of a small pocket-glass I could 
 make out that the men were piling great 
 faggots of green wood, which I had noticed 
 that some of them carried, on a spot beneath
 
 NARRATIVE OF MR. GOWLES. 13 
 
 the wash of high tide. When the pile had 
 reached a considerable height, the two victims 
 were placed in the middle. Then, by some 
 means, which I was too far off to detect, fire 
 was produced, and applied to the wild wood 
 in which the unhappy man and woman were 
 enveloped. Soon, fortunately, a thick turbid 
 smoke, in which but little flame appeared, 
 swept all over the beach. I endeavoured to 
 stop my ears, and turned my head away that 
 I might neither see nor hear more of this 
 spectacle, which I now perceived to be a 
 human sacrifice more cruel than is customary 
 even among the Fijians. 
 
 When I next ventured to look up, the last 
 trails of smoke were vanishing away across 
 the sea ; the sun gazed down on the bright, 
 many-coloured throng, who were now sing- 
 ing another of their hymns, while some of 
 the number were gathering up ashes (human 
 ashes !) from a blackened spot on the sand, 
 and were throwing them into the salt water. 
 The wind tossed back a soft grey dust in 
 their faces, mixed with the surf and spray. 
 It was dark before the crowd swept by me 
 again, now chanting in what appeared to be 
 a mirthful manner, and with faces so smiling
 
 14 THE END OF FH/EACIA. 
 
 and happy that I could scarcely believe they 
 had just taken part in such abominable 
 cruelty. On the other hand, a weight seemed 
 to have been removed from their consciences. 
 So deceitful are the wiles of Satan, who de- 
 ludes the heathen most in their very religion ! 
 Tired and almost starved as I was, these 
 reflections forced themselves upon me, even 
 while I was pondering on the dreadful position 
 in which I found myself Way of escape from 
 the island (obviously a very large one) there 
 was none. But, if I remained all night in 
 the wood, I must almost perish of cold and 
 hunger. I had therefore no choice but to 
 approach the barbarous people, though, from 
 my acquaintance with natives, I knew well 
 that they were likely cither to kill and eat 
 me, or to worship me as a god. Either 
 event was too dreadful to bear reflection. 
 I was certain, however, that, owing to the 
 dress of my sacred calling, I could not be 
 mistaken for a mere beach-comber or labour- 
 hunter, and I considered that I might easily 
 destroy the impression (natural among savages 
 on first seeing a European) that I was a god. 
 I therefore followed the throng from a distance, 
 taking advantage for concealment of turns
 
 NARRATIVE OF MR. GOWLES. 1$ 
 
 in the way, and of trees and underwood beside 
 the road. Some four miles' walking, for 
 which I was very unfit, brought us across a 
 neck of land, and from high ground in the 
 middle I again beheld the sea. Very much 
 to my surprise the cape on which I looked 
 down, safe in the rear of the descending 
 multitude, was occupied by a kind of city. 
 
 The houses were not the mere huts of 
 South Sea Islanders, but, though built for 
 the most part of carved and painted wood, 
 had white stone foundations, and were of 
 considerable height. On a rock in the centre 
 of the bay were some stone edifices which I 
 took to be temples or public buildings. The 
 crowd gradually broke up, turning into their 
 own dwellings on the shore, where, by the 
 way, some large masted vessels were drawn 
 up in little docks. But, while the general 
 public, if I may say so, slowly withdrew, the 
 woman with the idol in her arms, accom- 
 panied by some elderly men of serious aspect, 
 climbed the road up to the central public 
 buildings. 
 
 Moved by some impulse which I could 
 hardly explain, I stealthily followed them, 
 and at last found myself on a rocky platform,
 
 I6 THE END OF PH.EACIA. 
 
 a kind of public square, open on one side to 
 the sea, and shut in on either hand, and at 
 the back, by large houses with smooth round 
 pillars, and decorated with odd coloured 
 carvings. There was in the open centre of 
 the square an object which I recognized as 
 an altar, with a fire burning on it. Some 
 men came out of the chief building, dragging 
 a sheep, with chains of flowers round its neck. 
 Another man threw something on the fire, 
 which burned with a curious smell. At once 
 I recognized the savour of incense, against 
 which (as employed illegally by the Puseyites) 
 I had often firmly protested in old days at 
 home. The spirit of a soldier of the Truth 
 entered into me ; weary as I was, I rushed 
 from the dusky corner where I had been 
 hidden in the twilight, ran to the altar, and 
 held up my hand with my hymn-book as 
 I began to repeat an address that had often 
 silenced the papistic mummers in England. 
 Before I had uttered half a dozen words, the 
 men ^\■ho were dragging the sheep flew at me, 
 and tried to seize me, while one of them 
 offered a strange-looking knife at my throat. 
 I thought my last hour had come, and the old 
 Adam awakening in me, I delivered such a
 
 NARRATIVE OF MR. GOWLES. 17 
 
 blow with my right on the eye of the man 
 with the knife, that he reeled and fell heavily 
 against the altar. Then assuming an attitude 
 of self-defence (such as was, alas ! too familiar 
 to me in my unregenerate days), I awaited 
 my assailants. 
 
 They were coming on in a body when the 
 veil of the large edifice in front was lifted, 
 and a flash of light streamed out on the dusky 
 square, as an old man dressed in red hurried 
 to the scene of struggle. He wore a long 
 white beard, had green leaves twisted in his 
 hair, and carried in his hand a gilded staff 
 curiously wreathed with wool. When they 
 saw him approaching, my assailants fell back^ 
 each of them kissing his own hand and bowing 
 slightly in the direction of the temple, as I 
 rightly supposed it to be. The old man, who 
 was followed by attendants carrying torches 
 burning, was now close to us, and on beholding 
 me, he exhibited unusual emotions. 
 
 My appearance, no doubt, was at that 
 moment peculiar, and little creditable, as I 
 have since thought, to a minister, however 
 humble. My hat was thrust on the back of 
 my head, my coat was torn, my shirt open, 
 my neck-tie twisted round under my ear, and 
 
 c
 
 I8 THE END OF PH/EACIA. 
 
 my whole attitude was not one generally 
 associated with the peaceful delivery of the 
 message. Still, I had never conceived that 
 any spectacle, however strange and unbe- 
 coming, could have produced such an effect 
 on the native mind, especially in a person 
 who was manifestly a chief, or high-priest of 
 some heathen god. Seeing him pause, and 
 turn pale, I dropped my hands, and rearranged 
 my dress as best I might. The old Tohunga, 
 as my New Zealand flock used to call their 
 priest, now lifted his eyes to heaven with an 
 air of devotion, and remained for some 
 moments like one absorbed in prayer or 
 meditation. He then rapidly uttered some 
 words, which, of course, I could not under- 
 stand, whereon his attendants approached me 
 gently, with signs of respect and friendship. 
 Not to appear lacking in courtesy, or inferior 
 in politeness to savages, I turned and raised 
 my hat, which seemed still more to alarm the 
 old priest. He spoke to one of his attendants, 
 who instantly ran across the square, and 
 ente'rcd the courtyard of a large house, 
 surrounded by a garden, of which the tall 
 trees looked over the wall, and wooden 
 palisade. The old man then withdrew into
 
 NARRATIVE OF MR. GOWLES. 19 
 
 the temple, and I distinctly saw him scatter, 
 with the leafy bough of a tree, some water 
 round him as he entered, from a vessel beside 
 the door. This convinced me that some of 
 the emissaries of the Scarlet Woman had 
 already been busy among the benighted 
 people, a conjecture, however, which proved 
 to be erroneous. 
 
 I was now left standing by the altar, the 
 attendants observing me with respect which 
 I feared might at any moment take the 
 blasphemous form of worship. Nor could 
 I see how I was to check their adoration, and 
 turn it into the proper channel, if, as happened 
 to Captain Cook, and has frequently occurred 
 since, these darkened idolaters mistook me 
 for one of their own deities. I might spurn 
 them, indeed ; but when Nicholson adopted 
 that course, and beat the Fakirs who wor- 
 shipped him during the Indian Mutiny, his 
 conduct, as I have read, only redoubled their 
 enthusiasm. However, as events proved, 
 they never at any time were inclined to 
 substitute me for their heathen divinities ; 
 very far from it indeed, though their peculiar 
 conduct was calculated to foster in my breast 
 this melancholy delusion.
 
 ao THE END OF PH^ACIA. 
 
 I had not been left long to my own 
 thoughts when I marked lights wandering in 
 the garden or courtyard whither the messen- 
 ger had been sent by the old priest. Presently 
 there came forth from the court a man of 
 remarkable stature, and with an air of serious- 
 ness and responsibility. In his hand he car- 
 ried a short staff, or baton, with gold knobs, 
 and he wore a thin golden circlet in his hair. 
 As he drew near, the veil of the temple was 
 again lifted, and the aged priest came forward, 
 bearing in his arms a singular casket of 
 wood, ornamented with alternate bands of 
 gold and ivory, carved with outlandish figures. 
 The torch-bearers crowded about us in the 
 darkness, and it was a strange spectacle to 
 behold the smoky, fiery light shining on the 
 men's faces and the rich coloured dresses, or 
 lighting up the white idol of Apollon, which 
 stood among the laurel trees at the entrance 
 of the temple.
 
 ( 21 ) 
 
 III. 
 
 THE PROPHECY. 
 
 The priest and the man with the gold circlet 
 whom I took to be a chief, now met, and, 
 fixing their eyes on me, held a conversation 
 of which, naturally, I understood nothing. 
 I maintained an unmoved demeanour, and, 
 by way of showing my indifference, and also 
 of impressing the natives with the superiority 
 of our civilization, I took out and wound up 
 my watch, which, I was glad to find, had not 
 been utterly ruined by the salt water. Mean- 
 while the priest was fumbling in his casket, 
 whence he produced a bundle of very ragged 
 and smoky old bits of parchment and scraps 
 of potsherds. These he placed in the hands 
 of his attendants, who received them kneel- 
 ing. From the very bottom of the casket 
 he extracted some thin plates of a greyish 
 metal, lead, I believe, all mouldy, stained, and 
 ragged. Over these he pored and puzzled for 
 some time, trying, as I guessed, to make out 
 something inscribed on this curious substitute 
 for writing-paper. I had now recovered my
 
 22 THE END OF PIl/EACIA. 
 
 presence of mind, and, thinking at once to 
 astonish and propitiate, I drew from my 
 pocket, wiped, and presented to him my spec- 
 tacles, indicating, by example, the manner of 
 their employment. No sooner did he behold 
 these common articles of every-day use, than 
 the priest's knees began to knock together, 
 and his old hands trembled so that he could 
 scarcely fix the spectacles on his nose. When 
 he had managed this it was plain that he 
 found much less difficulty with his documents. 
 He now turned them rapidly over, and pre- 
 sently discovered one thin sheet of lead, from 
 which he began to read, or rather chant, in a 
 slow measured tone, every now and then 
 pausing and pointing to me, to my hat, and 
 to the spectacles which he himself wore at the 
 moment. The chief listened to him gravely, 
 and with an expression of melancholy that 
 grew deeper and sadder till the end. It was 
 a strange scene. 
 
 I afterwards heard the matter of the 
 prophecy, as it proved to be, which was thus 
 delivered. I have written it down in the 
 language of the natives, spelling it as best 
 I might, and I give the translation which I 
 made when I became more or less acquainted
 
 THE PROPHECY. 23 
 
 with their very difficult dialect.* It will be 
 seen that the prophecy, whatever its origin, 
 was strangely fulfilled. Perhaps the gods of 
 this people were not mere idols, but evil 
 spirits, permitted, for some wise purpose, to 
 delude their unhappy worshippers.f This, 
 doubtless, they might best do by occasionally 
 telling the truth, as in my instance. But this 
 theory — namely, that the gods of the heathen 
 are perhaps evil and wandering spirits — is, for 
 reasons which will afterwards appear, very 
 painful to me, personally reminding me that 
 I may have sinned as {qw have done since the 
 days of the early Christians. But I trust this 
 will not be made a reproach to me in our 
 Connection, especially as I have been the 
 humble instrument of so blessed a change in 
 the land of the heathen, there being no 
 more of them left. But, to return to the 
 
 * The original text of this prophecy is printed at the close 
 of Mr. Gowles's narrative. 
 
 t It has been suggested to me that some travelled priest 
 or conjurer of this strange race may have met Europeans, 
 seen hats, spectacles, steamers, and so forth, and may have 
 written the prophecy as a warning of the dangers of our 
 civilization. In that case the forgery was \try cunningly 
 managed, as the document had every appearance of great age, 
 and the alarm of the priest was too natural to have been 
 feigned.
 
 24 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 prophecy, it is given roughly here in English. 
 It ran thus : — " But when a man, having a 
 chimney pot on his head, and four eyes, 
 appears, and when a sail-less ship also comes, 
 sailing without wind and breathing smoke, 
 then will destruction fall upon the Scherian 
 island." Perhaps, from this and other ex- 
 pressions to be offered in a later chapter, the 
 learned will be able to determine whether the 
 speech is of the Polynesian or the Papuan 
 family, or whether, as I sometimes suspect, 
 it is of neither, but of a character quite 
 isolated and peculiar. 
 
 The effect produced on the mind of the 
 chief by the prophecy amazed me, as he 
 looked, for a native, quite a superior and 
 intelligent person. None of them, however, 
 as I found, escaped the influence of their 
 baneful superstitions. Approaching me, he 
 closely examined myself, my dress, and the 
 spectacles which the old priest now held in 
 his hands. The two men then had a hurried 
 discussion, and I have afterwards seen reason 
 to suppose that the chief was pointing out the 
 absence of certain important elements in the 
 fulfilment of the prophecy. Here was I, 
 doubtless, " a man bearing a chimney on his
 
 THE PROPHECY. 2$ 
 
 head " (for in this light they regarded my hat), 
 and having " four eyes," that is, including my 
 spectacles, a convenience with which they had 
 hitherto been unacquainted. It was unde- 
 niable that a prophecy written by a person 
 not accustomed to the resources of civilization, 
 could not more accurately have described me 
 and my appearance. But the " ship without 
 sails " was still lacking to the completion 
 of what had been foretold, as the chief 
 seemed to indicate by waving his hand 
 towards the sea. For the present, therefore, 
 they might hope that the worst would not 
 come to the worst. Probably this conclusion 
 brought a ray of hope into the melancholy 
 face of the chief, and the old priest himself 
 left off trembling. They even smiled, and, in 
 their conversation, which assumed a lighter 
 tone, I caught and recorded in pencil on 
 my shirt-cuff, for future explanation, words 
 which sounded like aiskistos aneer, farmakos, 
 cathanna, and ThargeelyaJi* Finally the aged 
 priest hobbled back into his temple, and the 
 chief, beckoning me to follow, passed within 
 the courtyard of his house. 
 
 * How terribly these words were afterwards to be inter- 
 preted, the reader will learn in due time.
 
 26 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 IV. 
 
 AT THE chief's HOUSE. 
 
 The chief leading the way, I followed through 
 the open entrance of the courtyard. The 
 yard was very spacious, and under the dark 
 shade of the trees I could see a light here and 
 there in the windows of small huts along the 
 walls, where, as I found later, the slaves and 
 the young men of the family slept. In the 
 middle of the space there was another altar, I 
 am sorry to say ; indeed, there were altars 
 everywhere. I never heard of a people so 
 religious, in their own darkened way, as these 
 islanders. At the further end of the court 
 was a really large and even stately house, with 
 no windows but a clerestory, indicated by the 
 line of light from within, flickering between 
 the top of the wall and the beginning of the 
 high-pitched roof. Light was also streaming 
 through the wide doorway, from which came 
 the sound of many voices. The house was 
 obviously full of people, and, just before we 
 reached the deep verandah, a roofed space 
 open to the air in front, they began to come
 
 AT THE CHIEF'S HOUSE. 27 
 
 out, some of them singing. They had flowers 
 in their hair, and torches in their hands. The 
 chief, giving me a sign to be silent, drew me 
 apart within the shadow of a plane tree, and 
 we waited there till the crowd dispersed, and 
 went, I presume, to their own houses. There 
 were no women among them, and the men 
 carried no spears nor other weapons. When 
 the court was empty, we walked up the broad 
 stone steps and stood Avithin the doorway. I 
 was certainly much surprised at what I saw. 
 There was a rude magnificence about this 
 house such as I had never expected to find in 
 the South Sea Islands. Nay, though I am 
 not unacquainted with the abodes of opulence 
 at home, and have been a favoured guest 
 of some of our merchant princes (including 
 Messrs. Bunton, the eminent haberdashers, 
 whose light is so generously bestowed on our 
 Connection), I admit that I had never looked 
 on a more spacious reception-room, furnished, 
 of course, in a somewhat savage manner, but, 
 obviously, regardless of expense. The very 
 threshold between the court and the reception- 
 room, to which you descended by steps, was 
 made of some dark metal, inlaid curiously 
 with figures of beasts and birds, also in metal
 
 2S THE END OF PHJEACIA. 
 
 (gold, as I afterwards learned), of various 
 shades of colour and brightness. 
 
 At first I had some difficulty in making out 
 the details of the vast apartment which lay 
 beyond. I was almost dizzy with hunger and 
 fatigue, and my view was further obscured by 
 a fragrant blue smoke, which rose in soft 
 clouds from an open fireplace in the middle of 
 the room. Singular to say, there was no 
 chimney, merely a hole in the lofty roof, 
 through which most of the smoke escaped. 
 The ceiling itself, which was supported by 
 carved rafters, was in places quite black 
 with the vapour of many years. The smoke, 
 however, was thin, and as the fuel on the fire, 
 and on the braziers, was of dry cedar and 
 sandal-wood, the perfume, though heavy, was 
 not unpleasant. The room u^as partly illumi- 
 nated by the fire itself, partly by braziers full 
 of blazing branches of trees ; but, what was 
 most remarkable, there were rows of metal 
 images of young men (naked, I am sorry to 
 say), with burning torches in their hands, 
 ranged all along the side walls. 
 
 A good deal of taste, in one sense, had been 
 expended in making these images, and money 
 had clearly been no object, I might have
 
 A 7' THE CHIEF'S HOUSE. 29 
 
 been somewhat dazzled by the general effect, 
 had I not reflected that, in my own country, 
 gas is within reach of the poorest purse, while 
 the electric light itself may be enjoyed by the 
 very beggar in the street. Here, on the con- 
 trary, the dripping of the wax from the torches, 
 the black smoke on the roof, the noisy crack- 
 ling of the sandal-wood in the braziers, all 
 combined to prove that these natives, though 
 ingenious enough in their way, were far indeed 
 below the level of modern civilization. The 
 abominable ceremony of the afternoon would 
 have proved as much, and now the absence of 
 true comfort, even in the dwelling of a chief, 
 made me think once more of the hardships of 
 a missionary's career. 
 
 But I must endeavour to complete the 
 picture of domestic life in the island, which I 
 now witnessed for the first time, and which 
 will never be seen again by Europeans. The 
 walls themselves were of some dark but 
 glittering metal, on which designs in lighter 
 metal were inlaid. There were views of the 
 chief going to the chase, his bow in his hand ; 
 of the chief sacrificing to idols ; of men and 
 young women engaged in the soul-destroying 
 practice of promiscuous dancing ; there were
 
 30 THE END OF PHALACIA. 
 
 wild beasts, lions among others ; rivers, with 
 fish in them ; mountains, trees, the sun and 
 moon, and stars, all not by any means ill de- 
 signed, for the work of natives. The pictures, 
 indeed, reminded me a good deal of the ugly 
 Assyrian curiosities in the British Museum, as 
 I have seen them when conducting the chil- 
 dren of the Bungletonian Band of Hope 
 through the rooms devoted to the remains of 
 Bible peoples, such as the Egyptians, Hittites, 
 and others. 
 
 Red or blue curtains, strangely embroidered, 
 hung over the doors, and trophies of swords, 
 shields, and spears, not of steel, but of some 
 darker metal, were fixed on the tall pillars 
 that helped to prop the roof. At the top of 
 the wall, just beneath the open unglazed 
 spaces, which admitted light and air in the 
 daytime, and wind and rain in bad weather, 
 was a kind of frieze, or coping, of some deep 
 blue material.* All along the sides of the 
 hall ran carved seats, covered with pretty 
 light embroidered cloths, not very different 
 from modern Oriental fabrics. The carpets 
 and rugs were precisely like those of India 
 and Persia, and I supposed that they must 
 
 * I afterwards found il was blue smalt.
 
 AT THE CHIEF'S HOUSE. 31 
 
 have been obtained through commerce. But 
 I afterwards learned that they were, beyond 
 doubtj of native manufacture. 
 
 At the further end of the room was a kind 
 of platform, or dais, on which tables were set 
 with fruit and wine. But much more curious 
 than the furniture of the hall was the group 
 of women sitting by the fire in the centre. 
 There sat in two rows some twenty girls, all 
 busily weaving, and throwing the shuttle from 
 hand to hand, laughing and chattering in low 
 voices. In the midst of them, on a high chair 
 of cedar-wood, decorated with ivory, and with 
 an ivory footstool, sat a person whom, in a 
 civilized country, one must have looked on 
 with respect as a lady of high rank. She, 
 like her husband the chief, had a golden 
 circlet twisted in her hair, which was still brown 
 and copious, and she wore an appearance of 
 command. 
 
 At her feet, on a stool, reclined a girl who 
 was, I must confess, of singular beauty. Doto 
 had long fair hair, a feature most unusual 
 among these natives. She had blue eyes, and 
 an appearance of singular innocence and 
 frankness. She was, at the moment, em- 
 broidering a piece of work intended, as I
 
 32 THE END OF PIF/EACIA. 
 
 afterwards learned with deep pain, for the 
 covering of one of their idols, to whose service 
 the benighted young woman was devoted. 
 Often in after days, I saw Doto stooping above 
 her embroidery and deftly interweaving the 
 green and golden threads into the patterns of 
 beasts and flowers. Often my heart went 
 out to this poor child of pagan tribe, and I 
 even pleased myself with the hope that some 
 day, a reclaimed and enlightened character, 
 she might employ her skill in embroidering 
 slippers and braces for a humble vessel. I 
 seemed to see her, a helpmate meet for me, 
 holding Mothers' Meetings, playing hymn- 
 tunes on the lyre, or the double pipes, the 
 native instruments, and, above all, winning 
 the islanders from their cruel and abominable 
 custom of exposing their infant children on 
 the mountains. How differently have all 
 things been arranged. 
 
 But I am wandering from my story. When 
 we reached the group by the fireside, who 
 had at first been unaware of our entrance, the 
 chief's wife gave a slight start, alarmed doubt- 
 less by my appearance. She could never 
 have seen, nor even dreamed of, such a 
 spectacle as I must have presented, haggard.
 
 AT THE CHIEF'S HOUSE. 33 
 
 ragged, faint with hunger, and worn with 
 fatigue as I was. The chief motioned to me 
 that I should kneel at his wife's feet, and kiss 
 her hand, but I merely bowed, not consider- 
 ing this a fit moment to protest otherwise 
 against such sacrilegious mummeries. But 
 the woman — her name I learned later was 
 Ocyale — did not take my attitude in bad 
 part. The startled expression of her face 
 changed to a look of pity, and, with a move- 
 ment of her hand, she directed Doto to bring 
 a large golden cup from the table at the upper 
 end of the room. Into this cup she ladled 
 some dark liquid from a bowl which was 
 placed on a small three-legged stand, or 
 dumb waiter, close to her side. Next she 
 spilt a little of the wine on the polished floor, 
 with an appearance of gravity which I did 
 not understand. It appears that this spilling 
 of wine is a drink offering to their idols. 
 She then offered me the cup, which I was 
 about to taste, when I perceived that the 
 liquor was indubitably alcoholic ! 
 
 A total abstainer, I had, I am thankful 
 to say, strength enough to resist the tempta- 
 tion thus adroitly thrust upon me. Setting 
 down the cup, I pointed to the badge of 
 
 D
 
 ■34 THE END OF FI/yEACIA. 
 
 blue ribbon, which, though damp and colour- 
 less, remained faithful to my button-hole. 
 I also made signs I was hungrj^, and would 
 be glad of something to eat. My gestures, 
 as far as the blue ribbon went, must have 
 been thrown away, of course, but any one 
 could understand that I was fainting from 
 hunger. The mistress of the house called 
 to one of the spinning girls, who rose and 
 went within the door opening from the plat- 
 form at the upper end of the room. She 
 presently returned with an old woman, a 
 housekeeper, as we would say, and obviously 
 a faithful and familiar servant. After some 
 conversation, of which I was probably the 
 topic, the old woman hobbled off, laughing. 
 She soon came back, bringing, to my extreme 
 delight, a basket with cakes and goat cheese, 
 and some cold pork in a dish. 
 
 I ought, perhaps, to say here that, in spite 
 of the luxury of their appointments, and their 
 extraordinary habit of "eating and drinking 
 all day to the going down of the sun " (as one 
 of their own poets says), these islanders are 
 by no means good cooks. I have tasted of 
 more savoury meats, dressed in coverings of 
 leaves on hot stones, in Maori pahs, or in
 
 AT THE CHIEFS HOUSE. 35 
 
 New Caledonian villages, than among the 
 comparatively civilized natives of the country 
 where I now found myself. Among the 
 common people, especially, there was no 
 notion of hanging or keeping meat. Often 
 have I seen a man kill a hojr on the floor 
 of his house, cut it up, toast it, as one may 
 say, at the fire, and then offer the grilled and 
 frequently under-done flesh to his guests. 
 Invariably the guests are obliged to witness 
 the slaughter of the animal which is to supply 
 their dinner. This slaughter is performed 
 as a kind of sacrifice ; the legs of the beast 
 are the portions of the gods, and are laid, 
 with bits of fat, upon the altars. Then chops, 
 or rather kabobs, of meat are hacked off, 
 spitted, and grilled or roasted at the fire. 
 Consequently all the meat tasted in this 
 island is actually " meat offered to idols." 
 
 When I made this discovery the shock 
 was very great, and I feared I was repeating 
 a sin denounced from the earliest ages. But 
 what was I to do ? Not the meat only, but 
 the vegetables, the fruit, the grain, the very 
 fish (which the natives never eat except under 
 stress of great hunger), were sacred to one 
 or other of their innumerable idols, I must
 
 36 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 eat, or starve myself to death — a form of 
 suicide. I therefore made up my mind to 
 eat without scruple, remembering that the 
 gods of the nations are nothing at all, but the 
 fancies of vain dreamers, and the invention 
 of greedy and self-seeking priests. 
 
 These sci^uples were of later growth, after 
 I had learned that their meals were invariably 
 preceded by a sacrifice, partly to provide 
 the food, partly as grace before meat. On 
 the present occasion I made an excellent 
 supper, though put to a good deal of incon- 
 venience by the want of forks, which were 
 entirely unknown on the island. Finding that 
 I would not taste the alcoholic liquor, which 
 the natives always mixed with a large propor- 
 tion of water, Doto rose, went out, and returned 
 with a great bowl of ivy-wood, curiously 
 carved, and full of milk. In this permitted 
 beverage, as my spirits were rising, I drank 
 the young lady's health, indicating my grati- 
 tude as well as I could. She bowed grace- 
 fully, and returned to her task of embroidery. 
 Meanwhile her father and mother were deep 
 in conversation, and paid no attention to 
 me, obviously understanding that my chief 
 need was food. I could not but see that the
 
 AT THE CHIEF'S HOUSE. 37 
 
 face of the chief's wife was overclouded, 
 probably with anxiety caused by the prophecy 
 of which I was, or was taken for, the subject. 
 
 When my hunger was satisfied, I fell, it 
 seems, into a kind of doze, from which I was 
 wakened by the noise of people rising, moving, 
 and pushing back chairs. I collected my 
 senses, and perceived that the room was 
 almost dark, most of the inmates had gone, 
 and the chief was lighting a torch at one 
 of the braziers. This torch he placed in my 
 hand, indicating, as I understood, that I was 
 to put myself under the guidance of two of 
 the young women who had been spinning. 
 At this I was somewhat perplexed, but 
 followed where they went before me, each 
 of them holding a burning torch. The light 
 flared and the smoke drifted among the 
 corridors, till we came within sound of 
 running water. In a lofty green chamber 
 was a large bath of polished marble, carved 
 with shapes of men armed with pitchforks, 
 and employed in spearing fish. The bath 
 was full of clear water, of somewhat higher 
 than tepid heat, and the stream, welling up 
 in one part, flowed out in another, not splash- 
 ing or spilling. The young women now
 
 3S THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 brought flasks of oil, large sponges, such as 
 are common in these seas, and such articles 
 of dress as are worn by the men among the 
 natives. But, to my astonishment, the girls 
 showed no intention of going away, and it 
 soon became evident that they meant to assist 
 we in my toilet ! I had some difficulty in 
 getting them to understand the indecorum 
 of their conduct, or rather (for I doubt if 
 they understood it after all) in prevailing on 
 them to leave me. I afterwards learned that 
 this custom, shocking as it appears to 
 Europeans, is regarded as entirely right and 
 usual even by the better class of islanders ; 
 nor, to do them justice, have I ever heard any 
 imputations on the morality of their women. 
 Except among the shepherds and shep- 
 herdesses in the rural districts, whose conduct 
 was very regardless, a high standard of 
 modesty prevailed among the female natives. 
 In this, I need not say, they were a notable 
 exception among Polynesian races. 
 
 Left to my own devices by the retreat of 
 the young women, I revelled in the pleasures 
 of the bath, and then the question arose. How 
 was I to be clothed .'' 
 
 I had, of course, but one shirt with me, and
 
 AT THE CHIEFS HOUSE. 39 
 
 that somewhat frayed and worn. My boots, 
 too, were almost useless from their prolonged 
 immersion in salt water. Yet I could not 
 bring myself to adopt the peculiar dress of 
 the natives, though the young persons had 
 left in the bath-room changes of raiment such 
 as are worn by the men of rank. These 
 garments were simple, and not uncomfortable, 
 but, as they showed the legs from the knees 
 downwards, like kilts, I felt that they would 
 be unbecoming to one in my position. 
 
 Almost the chief distinction between civilized 
 man and the savage, is the wearing of trousers. 
 When a missionary in Tongo, and prime 
 minister of King Haui Ha there, I made the 
 absence of breeches in the males an offence 
 punishable by imprisonment. Could I, on 
 my very first appearance among the islanders 
 to-morrow, fly, as it were, in the face of my 
 own rules, and prove false to my well-known 
 and often expressed convictions .-• I felt that 
 such backsliding was impossible. On mature 
 consideration, therefore, I made the following 
 arrangement. 
 
 The garments of the natives, when they 
 condescended to wear any, were but two in 
 number. First, there was a long linen or
 
 40 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 woollen shirt or smock, without sleeves, which 
 fell from the neck to some distance below 
 the knees. This shirt I put on. A belt is 
 generally worn, into which the folds of the 
 smock can be drawn up or " kilted," when the 
 wearer wishes to have his limbs free for active 
 exercise. The other garment is simply a 
 large square piece of stuff, silken or woollen 
 as it happens in accordance with the weather, 
 and the rank of the wearer. In this a man 
 swathes himself, somewhat as a Highlander 
 does in his plaid, pinning it over the shoulder 
 and leaving the arms free. When one is 
 accustomed to it, this kind of dress is not 
 uncomfortable, and many of the younger 
 braves carried it with a good deal of grace, 
 showing some fancy and originality in the 
 dispositions of the folds. Though attired in 
 this barbarous guise, I did not, of course, 
 dispense with my trousers, which, being black, 
 contrasted somewhat oddly with my primrose- 
 coloured ki ton, as they call the smock, and 
 the dark violet clamis, or plaid. When the 
 natives do not go bareheaded, they usually 
 wear a kind of light, soft wideawake, but this 
 I discarded in favour of my hat, which had 
 already produced so remarkable an effect on 
 their superstitious minds.
 
 AT THE CHIEF'S HOUSE. 41 
 
 Now I was dressed, as fittingly as possible 
 in the circumstances, but I felt that my chief 
 need was a bed to lie down upon. I did not 
 wish to sleep in the bath-room, so, taking my 
 torch from the stand in which I had placed 
 it, I sallied forth into the corridors, attired as 
 I have described, and carrying my coat under 
 my arm. A distant light, and the noise of 
 females giggling, which increased most inde- 
 corously as I drew near, attracted my atten- 
 tion. Walking in the direction of the sounds, 
 I soon discovered the two young women to 
 whose charge I had been committed by the 
 chief They appeared to be in high spirits, 
 and, seizing my arms before I could offer 
 any resistance, they dragged me at a great 
 pace down the passage and out into the 
 verandah. Here the air was very fragrant 
 and balmy, and a kind of comfortable " shake- 
 down " of mattresses, covered with coloured 
 blankets, had been laid for me in a corner. 
 I lay down as soon as the sound of the young 
 women's merriment died out in the distance, 
 and after the extraordinary events of the 
 night, I was soon sleeping as soundly as if 
 I had been in my father's house at Hackney 
 Wick.
 
 4'2 THE E.XD of PII^ACIA. 
 
 V. 
 
 A STRANGER ARRIVES. 
 
 When I wakened next morning, wonderfully- 
 refreshed by sleep and the purity of the air, 
 I had some difficulty in remembering where I 
 was and how I came there in such a peculiar 
 costume. But the voices of the servants in 
 the house, and the general stir of people 
 going to and fro, convinced me that I had 
 better be up and ready to put my sickle into 
 this harvest of heathen darkness. Little did 
 I think how soon the heathen darkness would 
 be trying to put the sickle into me ! I made 
 my way with little difficulty, being guided by 
 the sound of the running water, to the bath- 
 room, and thence into the gardens. These 
 were large and remarkably well arranged in 
 beds and plots of flowers and fruit-trees. I 
 particularly admired a fountain in the middle, 
 which watered the garden, and supplied both 
 the chief's house and the town. Returning 
 by way of the hall, I met the chief, who, 
 saluting me gravely, motioned me to one of 
 many small tables on which was set a bowl
 
 A STRANGER ARRIVES. 43 
 
 of milk, some cakes, and some roasted kid's 
 flesh. 
 
 After I had done justice to this breakfast, 
 he directed mc to follow him, and, walking 
 before mc with his gold-knobbed staff in his 
 hand, passed out of the shady court into the 
 public square. Here we found a number of 
 aged men seated on unpleasantly smooth and 
 cold polished stones in a curious circle of 
 masonry. They were surrounded by a crowd 
 of younger men, shouting, laughing, and 
 behaving with all the thoughtless levity and 
 merriment of a Polynesian mob. They 
 became silent as the chief approached, and 
 the old men rose from their places till he had 
 taken a kind of rude throne in the circle. 
 
 For my part, I was obliged to stand alone 
 in their midst, and it seemed that they were 
 debating about myself and my future treat- 
 ment. First the old priest, whom I had seen 
 on the night before, got up, and, as I fancied, 
 his harangue was very unfavourable to me. 
 He pointed at the inevitable flower-crowned 
 altar which, of course, was in the centre of 
 the market-place, and from the way he shook 
 a sickle he held in his hand I believe that he 
 was proposing to sacrifice me on the spot.
 
 44 1HE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 In the midst of his oration two vultures, 
 black with white breasts, flew high over our 
 heads, chasing a dove, which they caught and 
 killed right above the market-place, so that 
 the feathers fell down on the altar. The 
 islanders, as I afterwards discovered, are full 
 of childish superstitions about the flight of 
 birds, from which they derive omens as to 
 future events. The old priest manifestly 
 attempted to make political capital against 
 me out of the interesting occurrence in natural 
 history which we had just observed. He 
 hurried to the altar, caught up a handful of 
 the bleeding feathers, and, with sickle in 
 hand, was rushing towards me, when he 
 tripped over the head of a bullock that had 
 lately been sacrificed, and fell flat on his face, 
 while the sickle flew far out of his hand. 
 
 On this the young men, who were very 
 frivolous, like most of the islanders, laughed 
 aloud, and even the elders smiled. The chief 
 now rose with his staff in his grasp, and, 
 pointing first to me and then to the sky, was, 
 I imagined, propounding a different inter- 
 pretation of the omen from that advanced by 
 the old priest. Meantime the latter, with a 
 sulky expression of indifference, sat nursing
 
 A STRANGER ARRIVES. 45 
 
 his knees, which had been a good deal 
 damaged by his unseemly sprawl on the 
 ground. When the chief sat down, a very 
 quiet, absent-minded old gentleman arose. 
 Klatreus was his name, as I learned later ; his 
 family had a curious history, and he himself 
 afterwards came to an unhappy and terrible 
 end, as will be shown in a subsequent part of 
 my narrative. 
 
 I felt quite at home, as if I had been at 
 some vestry-meeting, or some committee in 
 the old country, when Elatreus got up. He 
 was stout, very bald, and had a way of 
 thrusting his arm behind him, and of hum- 
 ming and hawing, which vividly brought back 
 to mind the oratory of my native land. He 
 had also, plainly enough, the trick of for- 
 getting what he intended to say, and of 
 running off after new ideas, a trick very 
 uncommon among these natives, who are 
 born public speakers. I flattered myself that 
 this orator was in favour of leniency towards 
 me, but nobody was paying much attention 
 to him, when a shout was heard from the 
 bottom of the hill on which the square is 
 built. Ever)^body turned round, the elders 
 jumped up with some alacrity for the sake
 
 4$ THE END OF PH^ACIA. 
 
 of a better view on the polished stones 
 where they had been sitting, and so much 
 was the business before the meeting forgotten 
 in the new excitement, that I might have run 
 away unnoticed, had there been anywhere 
 to run to. But flight was out of the 
 question, unless I could get a boat and some 
 provisions, and I had neither. I was pleased, 
 however, to see that I was so lightly and 
 laxly guarded. 
 
 The cause of the disturbance was soon 
 apparent. A number of brown, half-naked, 
 sturdy sailors, with red caps, not unlike 
 fezzes, on their heads, appeared, bawling and 
 making for the centre of the square. They 
 were apparently carrying or dragging some 
 person with them, some person who offered 
 a good deal of resistance. Among the foreign 
 and unintelligible cries and howls which rang 
 through the market-place, my heart leaped 
 up, in natural though unsanctified pleasure, as 
 I heard the too well-known but unexpected 
 accents of British profanity. 
 
 " Where the (somewhere) are you blooming 
 sons of beach-combers dragging a Bri'sh 
 shailor ? Shtand off, you ragged set of white- 
 wa'^hed Christy Minstrels, you ! Where's the.
 
 A STRANGER ARRIVES. 47 
 
 Bri'sh Conshul's ? Take mc, you longshore 
 sons of sharks, to the Bri'sh Conshul's! If 
 there's one white man among }'ou let him 
 stand out and hit a chap his own weight." 
 
 " Hullo!" suddenly cried the speaker, whom 
 I had recognized as William Bludger, one of 
 the most depraved and regardless of the whole 
 wicked crew of the Blackbird, — " hullo, if here 
 isn't old Captain Hymn-book ! " — a foolish 
 nickname the sailors had given me. 
 
 He was obviously more than half-drunk, 
 and carried in his hand a black rum-bottle, 
 probably (from all I knew of him) not nearly 
 full. His shirt and trousers were torn and 
 dripping ; apparently he had been washed 
 ashore, like myself, after the storm, and had 
 been found and brought into the town by 
 some of the fishing population. 
 
 What a blow to all my hopes was the 
 wholly unlooked-for arrival of this tipsy, 
 irreclaimable seaman, this unawakened Bill 
 Bludger ! I had framed an ideal of what my 
 own behavour, in my trying circumstances, 
 ought to be. Often had I read how these 
 islanders possess a tradition that a wonderful 
 white man, a being all sweetness and lucidity, 
 landed in their midst, taught them the
 
 48 THE END OF PHJEACIA. 
 
 knowledge of the arts, converted them to 
 peace and good manners, and at last mysteri- 
 ously departed, promising that he would 
 return again. I had hopes — such things have 
 happened — that the islanders might take me 
 for this wonderful white man of their tradi- 
 tions, come back according to his promise. 
 If this delusion should occur, I would not at 
 once undeceive them, but take advantage of 
 the situation, and so bring them all into the 
 Bungletonian fold. I knew there was no time 
 to waste. Lutheran, French, or Church of 
 England schemers, in schooners, might even 
 now be approaching the island, with their 
 erroneous and deplorable tenets. Again, I 
 had reckoned, if my hopes proved false, on 
 attaining, not without dignity, the crown of 
 the proto-martyr of my Connection. Beyond 
 occasional confinement in police cells, con- 
 sequent on the strategic manoeuvres of the 
 Salvation Army, none of us had ever known 
 what it was to suffer in the cause. If I were 
 to be the first to testify with my blood, on 
 this unknown soil, at least I could meet my 
 doom with dignity. In any case, I should be 
 remembered, I had reckoned, in the island 
 traditions, either as an isolated and mysterious
 
 A STUANGER AJ^RIVES. 49 
 
 benefactor, the child of an otherwise unknown 
 race, or as a solitary martyr from afar. 
 
 All these vain hopes of spiritual pride were 
 now blown to the wind by Bill Bludger's 
 unexpected appearance and characteristic 
 conduct. No delusions about a divine white 
 stranger from afar could survive the appear- 
 ance and behaviour of so compromising- an 
 acquaintance as William. He was one white 
 stranger too many. There he was, still 
 struggling, shouting, swearing, smelling of 
 rum, and making frantic attempts to reach 
 me and shake hands with me. 
 
 " Let bygones be bygones. Captain Ilymn- 
 book, your Reverence," he screamed ; " here's 
 your jolly good health and song," and he put 
 his horrible black bottle to his unchastened 
 lips. " Here we are, Captain, two Englishmen 
 agin a lot o' blooming Kanekas ; let's clear 
 out their whole blessed town, and steer for 
 Sydney," 
 
 But, perceiving that I did not intend to 
 recognize or carouse with him, William 
 Bludger now changed his tone ; " Yah, you 
 lily-livered Bible- reader," he exclaimed, 
 " what are you going about in that toggery 
 for : copying Mr. Toole in Paiv Claitdiim f 
 
 E
 
 so THE END OF PH/EACIA. 
 
 YoH call yourself a missionary ? Jove, you're 
 more like a blooming play hactor in a penny 
 gaff! Easy, then, my hearties," he added, 
 seeing that the fishermen were approaching 
 him again, with ropes in their hands. 
 " Avast ! stow your handcuffs." 
 
 In spite of his oaths and struggles, the 
 inebriated mariner was firmly bound, hand 
 and foot, and placed in the centre of the 
 assembly. I only wished that the natives 
 had also gagged him, for his language, 
 though, of course, unintelligible to them, was 
 profane, and highly painful to me. 
 
 Before returning to business, the chiefs 
 carefully inspected the black bottle, of which 
 they had dispossessed William Bludger. A 
 golden vase was produced — they had always 
 plenty of tJieni handy — and the dark fluid was 
 poured into this princely receptacle, diffusing 
 a strong odour of rum. Each chief carefully 
 tasted the stuff, and I was pained, on gather- 
 ing, from the expression of their countenances, 
 that they obviously relished the " fire-water " 
 which has been the ruin of so many peoples 
 in these beautiful but benighted seas. How- 
 ever, there was not enough left to go round, 
 and it was manifestly unlikely that William
 
 A STK ANGER ARRIVES. 51 
 
 Bludger had succeeded in conveying larger 
 supplies from the wreck. 
 
 The meeting now assumed its former air of 
 earnestness, and it was not hard to see that 
 the arrival of my unhappy and degraded 
 fellow-countryman had introduced a new ele- 
 ment into the debate. Man after man spoke, 
 and finally the chief rose, as I had little doubt, 
 to sum up the discussion. He pointed to 
 myself, and to William Bludger alternately, 
 and the words which I had already noted, 
 Thargedyah, and farmakoi, frequently re- 
 curred in his speech. His ideas seemed to 
 meet with general approval ; even the old 
 priest laid aside his sickle, and beat applause 
 with his hands. He next rose, and, taking 
 two garlands of beautiful flowers from the 
 horns of the altar, placed one wreath on the 
 head of the drunken sailor, who had fallen 
 asleep by this time. He then drew near me, 
 and I had little doubt that he meant to make 
 me also wear a garland, like some woman of 
 rank and fashion at a giddy secular entertain- 
 ment. Whatever his motive might be I was 
 determined to wear nothing of the kind. But 
 here some attendants grappled and held me, 
 my hat was lifted from my brows, and the
 
 52 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 circlet of blossoms was carefully entwined all 
 round my hat. The head-covering was then 
 replaced, the whole assembly, forming a circle, 
 danced around me and the unconscious Blud- 
 ger, and, finally, the old priest, turning his face 
 alternately to me and to the sun, intoned a 
 hymn, the audience joining in at intervals. 
 
 My worst fears were, apparently, being 
 realized. In spite of the compromising ap- 
 pearance and conduct of Bludger, it seemed 
 beyond doubt that we were both regarded as, 
 in some degree, divine and sacred. Resistance 
 on my part was, it will be seen, impossible. 
 I could not escape from the hands of my tor- 
 mentors, and I was so wholly ignorant, at that 
 time, of their tongue, that I knew not how to 
 disclaim the honours thus blasphemously 
 thrust upon me. I did my best, shouting, in 
 English, " I am no Thargeelyah. I am no 
 fannakos" supposing those words to be the 
 native terms for one or other of their gods. 
 On this the whole assemibly, even the gravest, 
 burst out laughing, each man poking his 
 neighbour in the ribs, and uttering what I 
 took to be jests at my expense. Their be- 
 haviour in this juncture, and frequently after- 
 wards, when I attempted to make them tell
 
 A STRANGER ARRIVES. 53 
 
 mc the meaning of the unknown words, and 
 of cathanna (another expression the chief 
 had used), greatly perplexed me. I had 
 afterwards too good reason to estimate their 
 dreadful lack of the ordinary feelings of 
 humanity at its true value. 
 
 However, nothing but laughter (most unfit- 
 ting the occasion) could be got out of the 
 assembled natives. They now began to re- 
 turn to their homes, and Bludger, crowned 
 with flowers that became him but ill, was car- 
 ried ofif, not, as it seemed to me, without even 
 a reverential demeanour on the part of his 
 escort. Those who surrounded mc, a kind of 
 body-guard of six young men, had entirely 
 recovered their composure, and behaved to 
 me with a deference that was astonishing, but 
 reassuring. From this time, I ought to say, 
 though permitted to go where I would, and 
 allowed to observe even their most secret 
 rites, enjoying opportunities such as will never 
 fall to another European, I was never, but 
 once, entirely alone. ]\Iy worshippers, as 
 they might almost be called, so humble was 
 their demeanour, still kept watchful eyes upon 
 me, as if I were a being so precious that they 
 were jealous of my every movement. It was
 
 54 THE END OF PH^.ACIA. 
 
 now made plain to me, by signs, that I must 
 wait for some little space before being con- 
 veyed to my appointed residence. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARNING. 
 
 We had not remained long by ourselves in 
 the square, when the most extraordinary pro- 
 cession which I had ever beheld began to 
 climb into the open space from the town 
 beneath. I do not know if I have made it 
 sufficiently clear that the square, on the crest 
 of the isolated hill above the sea, was occu- 
 pied only by public buildings, such as the 
 temple, the house of the chief, and a large 
 edifice used as a kind of town hall, so to 
 speak. The natives in general lived in much 
 smaller houses, many of them little better 
 than huts, and divided by extremely narrow 
 and filthy streets, on the slopes, and along the 
 shores of the bay. 
 
 It was from these houses and from all the 
 country round that the procession, with 
 persons who fell into its ranks as they came, 
 was now making its way. Almost all the
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARNING. 55 
 
 parties concerned were young, boys and girls, 
 or very young men and women, and though 
 their dress was much scantier and less decent 
 than what our ideas of delicacy require, it 
 must be admitted that the general aspect of 
 the procession was far from unpleasing. The 
 clothes and wraps which the men and women 
 wore were of various gay colours, and were, in 
 most cases, embroidered quite skilfully with 
 representations of flowers, fruits, wild beasts, 
 and individuals of grotesque appearance. 
 Every one was crowned with either flowers 
 or feathers. 
 
 But, most remarkable of all, there was 
 scarcely a person in this large gathering who 
 did not bring or lead some wild bird or beast. 
 The girls carried young wild doves, young 
 rooks, or the nestlings of such small fowls as 
 sparrows and finches. It was a pretty sight 
 to see these poor uninstructed young women, 
 flushed with the exertion of climbing, and 
 meny, flocking into the square, each with 
 her pet (as I supposed, but the tender mercies 
 of the heathen are cmel) half hidden in the 
 folds of her gown. Of the young men, some 
 carried hawks, some chained eagles, some 
 young vultures. Many were struggling, too,
 
 56 THE END OF FILE A CIA. 
 
 with wild stags and wild goats, which they 
 compelled with the utmost difficulty to march 
 in the ranks of the procession. A number of 
 young persons merely bore in their hands 
 such fruits as were in season, obviously fine 
 specimens, of which they had reason to be 
 proud. 
 
 " Others, again, were carrying little young 
 bears, all woolly, comfortable-looking crea- 
 tures, while the parent bears, adult bears at 
 any rate, were brought along, chained, in the 
 rear. My guards, or adorers, or whatever the 
 young men who looked after me really 
 were, led me forward, and made signs to 
 me that I was to bring up the rear of the 
 procession — behind the bears, which made no 
 attempt (as in the case of the prophet) to 
 take the part of a Minister of the Bungle- 
 tonian Connection. What a position for one 
 who would fain have been opening the eyes 
 of this darkened people to better things ! 
 But, till I had acquired some knowledge of 
 their language, I felt my only chance was to 
 acquiesce in everything not positively sinful. 
 The entrance of a menagerie and horticultural 
 exhibition into the town — for thus I explained 
 to myself what was going on before my eyes —
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARXIXG. 57 
 
 could not be severely censured by the harshest 
 critic, and I prepared to show my affabilit\' 
 by joining in an innocent diversion and 
 popular entertainment. 
 
 Soon I found that, after all, I was not to be 
 absolutely last in the advance of this mis- 
 cellaneous exhibition, nor were the intentions 
 of the people so harmless as I had imagined. 
 This was no affair of cottage window gardens, 
 and a distribution of prizes. 
 
 The crowd which had collected in front of 
 the chief's house opened suddenly, and, in the 
 throng of people, I detected a movement of 
 excitement and alarm. Next I saw the horns 
 of animals mixed with the heads and shoulders 
 of the multitude, and then an extraordinary 
 spectacle burst, at full speed, upon my gaze. 
 Four great wild stags, plunging, rearing, and 
 kicking, rushed by, dragging a small vehicle 
 of unusual shape, in which stood, to my 
 horror, the chiefs beautiful daughter, Doto. 
 The vehicle passed me like a flash of horns 
 in spite of the attempts of four resolute 
 men, who clung at the stags' heads to restrain 
 the impetuosity of these coursers. The 
 car, I should explain — though I can hardly 
 expect to be believed — was not unlike the
 
 58 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 floor of a hansom cab, from which the seat, the 
 roof, the driver's perch, and everything else 
 should have been removed, except the basis, 
 the wheels, and the splashboard, the part on 
 which we generally find the advertisements of 
 Messrs. Mappin and Webb. On this floor, 
 then, Doto stood erect, holding the reins ; her 
 yellow hair had become unbound, and was 
 floating like a flag behind her, and her beauti- 
 ful face, far from displaying any alarm, was 
 flushed with pleasure and pride. She was 
 dressed in splendid and glittering attire, over 
 which was fastened — so strange were the 
 manners of these islanders — the newly- 
 stripped skin of a great black bear. Thus 
 dragged by the wild deer, Doto passed like 
 a flash through the midst of the men and 
 women, her stags being maddened to fresh 
 excitement by the sight and smell of the 
 bears, and other wild animals. But, eager as 
 were the brutes that dragged the precarious 
 carriage, they were somewhat tamed by the 
 great steepness of the ascent, up which they 
 bounded, to the heights at the back of the 
 town. Up this path, often narrow and ex- 
 cessively dangerous, we all took our way, and 
 finally, after passing through various perilous
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARNING. 59 
 
 defiles and skirting many cliffs, we arrived at 
 a level space in front of an ancient temple of 
 one of their heathen gods. It was built like 
 the others in the settlement below, but the 
 white stone had become brown and yellow 
 with time and weather, and the colours, chiefly 
 red and blue, with which the graven images, 
 in contempt of the second commandment, 
 were painted, had faded, and grown very 
 dim. 
 
 On the broad platform in front of this home 
 of evil spirits had been piled a great mound 
 of turf, sloping very gradually and smoothly, 
 like the terrace of a well-kept lawn, to the 
 summit, which itself was, perhaps, a hundred 
 feet in circumference. On this was erected a 
 kind of breastwork of trunks of trees, each 
 tree some fifteen feet in length, and in the 
 centre of the circular breastwork was an altar, 
 as usual, under which blazed a fire of great 
 fierceness. From the temple came a very 
 aged woman, dressed in bear skins, who 
 carried a torch. This torch she lit at the 
 blaze under the altar, and a number of the 
 young men, lighting their torches at hers, set 
 fire to the outer breastwork, in which certain 
 open spaces or entrances had been purposely
 
 6o THE END OF PH/EACIA. 
 
 left. No sooner had the trees begun to catch 
 fire, which they did slowly, being of green 
 wood, than the multitude outside, with the 
 most horrible and piercing outcries, began to 
 drive the animals which they had brought 
 with them into the midst of the flames. 
 
 The spectacle was one of the most terrible 
 I ever beheld, even among this cruel and 
 outlandish people, whose abominable inven- 
 tions contrasted so strangely with the mild- 
 ness of their demeanour where their religion 
 was not concerned. It was pitiful to see the 
 young birds, many of them not yet able to 
 fly, flutter into the flames and the stifling 
 smoke, and then fall, scorched, and twitter- 
 ing miserably. The young lambs and other 
 domesticated animals were forced in without 
 much resistance, but the great difficulty was 
 to urge the wolves, antelopes, and other wild 
 creatures, into the blaze. The cries of the 
 multitude, who bounded about like maniacs, 
 armed with clubs and torches, rose madly 
 over the strange unusual screams and howls 
 uttered by the wild beasts in their pain 
 and terror. Ever and anon some animal 
 would burst through the crowd, perhaps half 
 burned, and with its fur on fire, and would be
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARNING. 6r 
 
 pursued to a certain distance, after which it 
 was allowed to escape by the sacrificers. As 
 I was watching, with all my hopes enlisted on 
 its side, the efforts of an antelope to escape, 
 I heard a roar which was horrible even in that 
 babel of abominable sights and sounds. 
 
 A great black bear, its pelt one sheet of 
 flame, its whole appearance (if I may be 
 permitted to say so) like that of a fiend from 
 the pit, forced its way through the throng, 
 and, bounding madly to the spot where Doto's 
 car stood at a little distance, rose erect on its 
 hind feet, and fixed its claws in the flank of 
 one of the stags, the off-leader. Instantly the 
 team of stags, escaping from the hands of 
 the strong men who stood at their heads, 
 plunged violently down the narrow and 
 dangerous path which led to the city. I 
 shouted to Doto to leap out, but she did not 
 hear or did not understand me. 
 
 With a fixed look of horror on her white 
 face, she dropped the useless reins, and the 
 vehicle passed out of sight round a corner of 
 the cliff. 
 
 I had but a moment in which to reflect on 
 what might be done to rescue her. In that 
 moment I providentially spied a double-edged
 
 62 THE END OF PH^ACIA. 
 
 axe which lay beside mc on the grass, having 
 fallen from the hands of one of the natives. 
 Snatching up this weapon, I rushed to the 
 edge of the cliff, and looked down. It was 
 almost a sheer precipice, broken only by 
 narrow shelves and clefts, on some of which 
 grass grew, while on others a slight mountain- 
 ash or a young birch just managed to find 
 foothold. 
 
 Far, far beneath, hundreds of feet below, 
 I could trace the windings of the path up 
 which we had climbed. 
 
 Instantly my plan was conceived. I would 
 descend the cliff, risking my life, of course, 
 but that was now of small value in this hope- 
 lessly heathen land, and endeavour to save 
 the benighted Doto from the destruction to 
 which she was hastening. Her car must pass 
 along that portion of the path which lay, like 
 a ribbon, in the depth below me, unless, as 
 seemed too probable, it chanced to be upset 
 before reaching the spot. To pursue it from 
 behind was manifestly hopeless. 
 
 These thoughts flashed through my brain 
 more rapidly than even the flight of the 
 maddened red deer ; and scarcely less swiftly, 
 I began scrambling down the face of the cliff.
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARNING. 63 
 
 It was really a series of almost hopeless leaps 
 to which I was committed, and the axe, to 
 which I clung, rather impeded than aided me 
 as I let myself drop from one rocky shelf to 
 another, catching at the boughs and roots of 
 trees to break my fall. At last I reached the 
 last ledge before the sheer wall of rock, which 
 hung above the path. As I let myself down, 
 feeling with my feet for any shelf or crack in 
 the wall, I heard the blare of the stags, and 
 the rattle of the wheels. Half intentionally, 
 half against my will, I left my hold of a tree- 
 root, and slid, bumping and scratching myself 
 terribly, down the slippery and slatey face 
 of the rocky wall, till I fell in a mass on the 
 narrow road. In a moment I was on my feet, 
 the axe I had thrown in front of me, and I 
 grasped it instinctively as I rose. It was not 
 too soon. The deer were almost on me. 
 Stepping to the side of the way, where a rock 
 gave some shelter, I dealt a blow at the 
 nearest stag, under which he reeled and fell 
 to the ground, his companion stumbling over 
 him. In the mad group of rearing beasts I 
 smote right and left at the harness, which 
 gave way beneath my strokes, and the unhurt 
 stags sped down the glen, and then rushed
 
 64 THE END OF PH^ACIA. 
 
 into separate corries of the hills. The car 
 was upset, and Doto lay pale and bleeding 
 among the hoofs of the stricken deer. 
 
 I dragged her out of the danger to the side, 
 of the path. I felt her pulse, which still 
 fluttered. I brought her, in my hat, water 
 from the stream ; and, finally, had the pleasure 
 of seeing her return to life before the first of 
 her friends came, wailing and lamenting, and 
 tearing their hair, down the path. 
 
 When they found the girl unwounded, 
 though still weak and faint, their joy knew 
 no bounds, though I too plainly perceived 
 that they were returning thanks to the 
 heathen goddess whose priestess Doto was. 
 As for mc, they once more crowned me in 
 the most elaborate, and, I think, unbecoming 
 manner, with purple pandanus flowers. Then, 
 having laid Doto on a litter, they returned in 
 procession to the town, where the girl was 
 taken into the chiefs house. As we parted, 
 she held out her hand to me, but instantly 
 withdrew it with a deep sigh. I closely 
 watched her. She was weeping. I had 
 noticed before that all the natives, as much as 
 possible, avoided personal contact with me. 
 This fact, coupled with the reverence which
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARMNG. 65 
 
 they displayed towards mc, confirmed my 
 impression that they regarded mc as some- 
 thins supernatural, not of this world, and 
 divine. 
 
 To remove this belief was most certainly 
 m)' duty ; but how was it to be done ? Alas ! 
 I must now admit that I yielded to a subtle 
 temptation, and was led into conduct un- 
 worthy of a vessel. Sad to say, as I search 
 the records of my own heart, I am compelled 
 to confess that my real desire was not so 
 much to undeceive the people — for in their 
 bewildering myriads of foolish beliefs one 
 more or less was of small importance — -as to 
 recommend myself to Doto. This young 
 woman, though not a member of our Con- 
 nection, and wholly ignorant of saving Truths, 
 had begun to find favour in my eyes, and I 
 hoped to lead her to the altar ; altars, for 
 that matter, being plentiful enough in this 
 darkened land. I should have remembered 
 the words once spoken by a very gracious 
 young woman, the daughter of a pious farmer. 
 " Mother," said she, " I have made up my 
 mind never to let loose my afi"ections upon 
 any man as is not pious, and in good circum- 
 stances," Doto was, for an islander, in good 
 
 F
 
 166 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 circumstances, but who, ah ! who, could call 
 her pious ? 
 
 I endeavoured, it is true, to convert her, 
 but, ah! did I go to work in the right way? 
 Did I draw, in awful colours, the certain 
 consequences of ignorance of the Truth ? 
 Did I endeavour to strike a salutary terror 
 into her heathen heart ? 
 
 No ; such would have been a proper course 
 of conduct, but such was not mine ! I weakly 
 adopted the opposite plan — that used by the 
 Jesuits in their dealings with the Chinese 
 and other darkened peoples. I attempted, 
 meanly attempted (but, as may be guessed, 
 with but limited success), to give an orthodox 
 "Nonconformist character to the observances 
 of Doto's religion. For example, instead of 
 thundering, as was my duty, at her worldly 
 diversions of promiscuous dancing, and ball 
 play, I took a part in these secular pursuits, 
 fondly persuading myself that my presence 
 discouraged levity, and was a check upon un- 
 seemly mirth. 
 
 Thus, among the young native men and 
 
 maidens, in the windings of the mazy dance, 
 
 might have been seen disporting himself, a 
 
 ■perion of stalwart form, whose attire still
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WAR XING. 67 
 
 somewhat faintly indicated his European 
 origin and sacred functions. A hymn-book 
 in my hand instead of a rattle (used by the 
 natives), I capered gaily through fhcir midst. 
 Often and often I led the music, instructing 
 my festive flock in English hymns, which, 
 however, I adapted to gay and artless 
 melodies, such as " There's some one in de 
 house wid Dinah!" or " Old Joe kicking up 
 behind and afore ! " 
 
 This kind of entertainment was entirely 
 new to the natives, who heartily preferred 
 it to their own dull music, resembling what 
 are called, I believe, " Gregorians," by a 
 bloated and Erastian establishment. 
 
 So far, then, I may perchance trust that 
 my efforts were not altogether vain, and the 
 seed thus sown may, in one or two cases, 
 have fallen on ground not absolutely stony. 
 But, alas ! I have little room for hope. 
 
 I pursued my career of unblushing "eco- 
 nomy " — as the Jesuits say, meaning, alas ! 
 economy of plain truth speaking — and of 
 heathen dissipation. Few were the dances 
 in which I did not take a part, sinking so low 
 as occasionally to oblige \\\t\\ a hornpipe. 
 My blue ribbon had long ago worn out^ and
 
 68 THE END OF PH.KACIA. 
 
 with it my strict views on Temperance. I 
 acquired a liking for the strange drink of the 
 islanders — a thick wine and water, sometimes 
 mixed with cheese and honey. In fact, I was 
 sliding back — like the unfortunate Fanti 
 missionary, John Creedy, M.A., whose case, 
 as reported by precious Mr. Grant Allen, so 
 painfully moved serious circles — I was sliding 
 back to the level of the savagery around me. 
 May these confessions be accepted in the same 
 spirit as they are offered ; may it partly palliate 
 my guilt that I had apparently no chance of 
 escape from the island, and no hope beyond 
 that of converting the natives and marrying 
 Doto. I trusted to do it, not (as of old) by 
 open and fearless denunciation, but by slowly 
 winning hearts, in a secular and sportive 
 capacity, before gaining souls. 
 
 Even so have I seen young priests of the 
 prelatical Establishment aim at popularity by 
 playing cricket \\\\.\\ liberal coal-miners of 
 sectarian persuasions. They told me they were 
 " in the mission field," and one observed that 
 his favourite post in the field was third man. 
 I know not what he meant. But to return 
 to the island. 
 
 My career of soul-destroying " amusement "
 
 A BACKSLIDLH. A WARNING. 69 
 
 (ah, how hollow!) was not uninterrupted by 
 warnings. Every now and again the mask- 
 was raised, and I saw clearly the unspeakable 
 horrors of heathen existence. 
 
 For example, in an earlier part of this 
 narrative, I have mentioned an old heathen 
 called Elatreus, a good-natured, dull, absent- 
 minded man, who reminded me of a respect- 
 able British citizen. How awful was Ids 
 end, how trebly awful when I reflect how 
 nearly I — but let me not anticipate. Elatreus 
 was the head, and eldest surviving member 
 of a family which had a singular history, 
 never could make out what the story was, but, 
 hi consequence of some ancient crime, the 
 chief of the family was never allowed to enter 
 the town hall. The penalty, if he infringed 
 the law, was terrible. Now it chanced one 
 day that I was wandering down the street, 
 my hands full of rare flowers which I had 
 gathered for Doto, and with four young 
 doves in my hat. It was spring, and at that 
 season the young persons of the island ex- 
 pected to receive such gifts from their 
 admirers. I was also followed by eleven 
 little fawns, which I had tamed for her, and 
 four young whelps of the bear. At the same
 
 70- THE END 0I< PH/EACIA. 
 
 time, in the lightness of my foolish heart, 
 I \vas singing a native song, all about one 
 Lityerses, to the tune of " Barbara Allen." 
 
 At this moment, I observed, coming out of 
 a side street, old Elatreus. He was doddering 
 along, his hands behind his back, and his nose 
 in the air, followed by a small but increasing 
 crowd of the natives, who crept stealthily 
 behind at a considerable distance. I paused 
 to watch what was happening. 
 
 Elatreus entered the main street, and 
 lounged along till he came opposite the town 
 hall, on which some repairs were being made. 
 The door stood wide open. He gazed at it, 
 in a vacant but interested way, and went up 
 the steps, where he stood staring in an absent- 
 minded, vacant kind of fashion. I could see 
 that the crowd watching him from the corner 
 of the side street was vastly excited. 
 
 Elatreus now passed his hand across his 
 brow, seemed vastly puzzled, and yawned. 
 Then he slowly entered the town hall. With 
 a wild yell of savage triumph the mob rushed 
 in after him, and in a few moments came 
 forth again, with Elatreus bound and mana- 
 cled. Some one sped away, and brought 
 the old priest, who carried the sickle. He
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARNING. 71 
 
 appeared full of joy, and lustily intoned — for 
 they have this Popish custom of intoning- -an 
 unintelligible hymn. By this time Elatreus 
 had been wreathed and crowned with flowers, 
 and the rude multitude for this purpose 
 seized the interesting orchids which I had 
 gathered for my Doto. They then dragged 
 the old man, pitifully lamenting, to the largest 
 altar in the centre of the square. 
 
 Need I say what followed .-' The scene was 
 too awful. With a horrible expression of joy 
 the priest laid the poor wretch on the great 
 stone altar, and with his keen sickle — but it 
 is too horrible ! . . . This was the penalty 
 for a harmless act, forbidden by a senseless 
 law, which Elatreus — a most respectable man 
 for an idolater — had broken in mere innocent 
 absence of mind. 
 
 Alas 1 among such a people, how could I 
 ever hope, alone and unaided, to effect any 
 truly regenerating work ? 
 
 Yet I was not wholly discouraged ; indeed, 
 my infatuation for Doto made me overlook 
 much profligate behaviour that I do not care 
 to mention in a tract which may fall into the 
 hands of the young. One other example of 
 the native barbarity, however, I must narrate.
 
 72 THE END OF ElEEACIA. 
 
 A respected couple in the vicinity had long 
 been childless. At length their wishes were 
 crowned with success, and a little baby girl was 
 born to them. But the priest, who had curious 
 ideas of his own, insisted on consulting, as to 
 this child, a certain witch, a woman who dwelt 
 apart in a cave where there was a sulphurous 
 hot-water spring, surrounded by laurel bushes, 
 regarded as sacred by the benighted islanders. 
 This spring, or the fumes that arose From it, 
 was supposed to confer on the dweller in the 
 cave the gift of prophecy. She was the 
 servant of Apollon, and was credited with 
 possessing a spirit of divination. The womanj 
 after undergoing, or simulating, an epileptic 
 attack, declared, in rhythmical language, 
 that the babe must not be allowed to live. 
 She averred that it would " bring destruction 
 on Scheria," the native name for the island, 
 which I have styled Boothland, in honour 
 of the Salvation Army. This was enough 
 for the priests, who did not actually slay the 
 infant, but exposed it on the side of a 
 mountain, where the beasts and birds were 
 likely to have their way with it. 
 
 Now it chanced that I had climbed the 
 hill-top that day to watch for a sail, for I
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARNING. 73 
 
 never quite lost hope of being taken away 
 by some British or continental vessel. My 
 attendants, for a Avonder, were all absent 
 at some feast — Carneia, I think they called 
 it — of their heathen gods. The time was 
 early summer ; it only wanted a fortnight of 
 the date, as far as I could reckon, at which I 
 had first been cast on the island, a year before. 
 As I descended the hillside, pleased, I 
 must own, by the warm bright sunlight, the 
 colour of the sea, and the smell of the aro- 
 matic herbs, — pleased, and half forgetful of 
 the horrid heathenism that surrounded me, 
 I heard a low wail as of an infant. I searched 
 about, in surprise, and came on a beautiful baby, 
 in rich swaddling bands, with a gold signet 
 ring tied round its neck. Such an occurrence 
 was not very unusual, as the natives, like most 
 savages, were in the habit of keeping down 
 the surplus population, by thus exposing their 
 little ones. The history of the island was 
 full of legends of exposed children, picked 
 up by the charitable (there was, oddly enough, 
 no prohibition against this), and afterwards 
 recognized and welcomed by their families. 
 As any Englishman would have done, I lifted 
 the dear little thing in my arms, and, a happy
 
 74 THE END OF PffyEACIA. 
 
 thought occurring to me, carried it off as a 
 present to Doto, who doted on babies, as all 
 girls do. The gift proved to be the most 
 welcome that I had ever offered, though 
 Doto, as usual, would not accept it from my 
 hands, but made me lay it down beside the 
 hearth, which they regarded as a sacred place. 
 Even if an enemy reached the hearth of his 
 foe, he would, thenceforth, be quite safe in 
 his house. Doto then picked up the child, 
 warmed and caressed it, sent for milk for its 
 entertainment, and was full of pleasure in her 
 new pet. 
 
 She was a dear good girl, Doto, In spite of 
 her heathen training.* 
 
 Strangely enough, as I thought at the time, 
 she burst out weeping when I took my leave 
 of her, and seemed almost as if she had some 
 secret to Impart to me. This, at least, showed 
 an Interest in me, and I walked to my home 
 with high presumptuous thoughts. 
 
 As I passed a certain group of rocks, in a 
 lonely uncultivated district, while the grey of 
 evening was falling, I heard a low whistle. 
 
 * I have never been able to understand Mr. Gowles's 
 infatuation for this stuck-up creature, who, I am sure, gave 
 herself airs enough, as any one may see. — Mrs. Gowles,
 
 A BACKSLIDER. A WARNING. 
 
 !•> 
 
 The place had a bad reputation, being 
 thought to be haunted. Perhaps I had un- 
 consciously imbibed some of the superstitions 
 of the natives, for I started in alarm. 
 
 Then I heard an unmistakably British voice 
 cry, in a suppressed tone, " Hi ! " 
 
 The underwood rustled, and I beheld, to 
 my astonishment, the form, the crawling and 
 abject form, of William Bludger ! 
 
 Since the day of his landing we had never 
 once met, William having been sent off to a 
 distant part of the island. 
 
 " Hi ! " he said again, and when I exclaimed, 
 naturally, "Hullo!" he put his finger on his 
 lips, and beckoned to me to join him. This 
 I did, and found that he was lurking in a 
 cavern under the group of grey weather-worn 
 stones. 
 
 When I entered the cave, Bludger fell 
 a-trembling so violently that he could not 
 speak. He seemed in the utmost alarm, his 
 face quite ashen with terror. 
 
 " What is the matter, William Bludger ? " I 
 asked ; "have you had a Call, or why do you 
 thrust yourself on me ? " 
 
 " Have yoiL sich a thing as a chaw about 
 ye.'"' he asked in tremulous accents. "I'm
 
 76 THE END OF PH.EACIA. 
 
 that done ; never a drop has passed my lips 
 for three days, strike mc dead ; and I'd give 
 anything for a chaw o' tobacco. A sup of 
 drink you have not got, Capt'n Hymn-book, 
 axing your pardon for the liberty ? " 
 
 " William," I said, " even in this benighted 
 island, you set a pitiful example. You have 
 been drinking, sir ; you are reaping what you 
 have sown ; and only temperance, strict, un- 
 deviating total abstinence rather, can restore 
 your health." 
 
 " So help mc ! " cried the wretched man, 
 "except a drop of Pramneian * I took, the 
 morning I cut and run, — and that was three 
 days ago,— nothing stronger than castor-oil 
 berries have crossed my lips. It ain't that, 
 sir ; it ain't the drink. It's — it's the TJiar- 
 gcelyaJi. Next week, sir, they are going to 
 roast us — you and me — flog us first, and roast 
 us after. Oh Lord ! Oh Lord ! " 
 
 * This was the name of a native vintage.
 
 ( 77 ) 
 
 VII. 
 
 FLIGHT. 
 
 " Flog us first, and roast us afterwards." I 
 repeated mechanically the words of William 
 Bludger, " \\'h\', }'ou must be mad ; the)' 
 are more likely to fall down and worship us, —   
 me at any rate." 
 
 '•No, Capt'n," replied William ;" that's 
 your mistake. Thc\' say we're both Cathar- 
 viata ; that's what they call us; and you're 
 no better than me." 
 
 "And what are CatJiarinata?'' I inquired, 
 remembering that this word, or something 
 like it, had been constantly used by the 
 natives in my hearing. 
 
 " Well, Capt'n, it means, first and foremost, 
 just the off-scourings of creation, the very 
 dust and sweepings of the shop," answered 
 Bludger, who had somehow regained his 
 confidence. To have a fellow-suficrer, and to 
 see the pallor which, doubtless, overspread 
 my features, was a source of comfort to this 
 hardened man. At the same time I confess 
 that, if William Bludger alone had been
 
 78 THE END OF PH.EACIA. 
 
 destined to suffer, I could have contemplated 
 the decree with Christian resignation. 
 
 " I speak the beggars' patter pretty well 
 now," Bludger went on ; " and I see CatJiar- 
 inata means more than just mere dirt. It 
 means two unlucky devils." 
 
 "William?" I exclaimed. 
 
 " It means, saving your presence, two poor 
 coves, as has no luck, like you and me, and 
 that can be got rid of once a year, at an 
 entertainment they call the Tliargeelyah, I 
 dunno why, a kind o' friendly lead. They 
 choose fellows as either behaves ill, or has no 
 friends to make a fuss about them, and they 
 gives them three dozen, or more, and takes 
 them down to the beach, and burns them 
 alive over a slow fire. And then they toss the 
 ashes out to sea, and think all the bad luck 
 goes away with the tide. Oh, I never was in 
 such a hole as this ! " 
 
 Bludger's words made me shudder. I had 
 never forgotten the hideous sacrifice, doubt- 
 less the ThargeelyaJi, as they called it, that 
 greeted me when I was first cast ashore on 
 the island. To think that I had only been 
 saved that I might figure as a victim of some 
 of their heathen gods !
 
 FLlGin: 79 
 
 Oh, now the thought came back to me 
 with a bitter repentance, that if I had only 
 converted all the islanders, they would never 
 have dreamed of sacrificing mc in honour of 
 a mere idol ! Why had I been so lukewarm, 
 why had I backslidden, why had I en- 
 deavoured to make myself agreeable by 
 joining in promiscuous dances, when I should 
 have been thundering against Pagan idolatry, 
 holy water, idols, sacrifices, and the whole 
 abominable system of life on the island ? 
 True, I might have goaded them into slaying 
 me ; I might have suffered as a martyr ; but, 
 at the least, I would have deserved the 
 martyr's crown. And now I was to perish 
 at tlic stake, without even the precious conso- 
 lation of being a real martyr, and was to be 
 flogged into the bargain, 
 
 I gave a hollow groan as these reflections 
 passed through ni)- mind, and this appeared 
 to afford William Bludger some consolation. 
 
 " You don't seem to like it yourself, Capt'n ; 
 what's your advice ? We're both in the same 
 boat ; leastways I wish we were in a boat ; 
 anyhow we're both in the same hole." 
 
 There was no denying this, and it was high 
 time to mature some plan of escape. Already
 
 So THE END OF PHA^.AC1A. 
 
 I must have been missed by my attendants, 
 my gaolers rather, who would have returned 
 from their festival, and would be looking for 
 me everywhere. 
 
 I bitterly turned over in my mind the facts 
 of our situation ; "ours," for, as a just punish- 
 ment of my remissness, I was in the same 
 quandary as a drunken, dissipated sailor 
 before the mast. 
 
 If William had but possessed a sweet and 
 tuneful voice (often a gift found in the most 
 depraved natures), and if / had been able to 
 borrow a harmonium on wheels, I would not, 
 even now, have despaired of converting the 
 whole island in the course of the week. As 
 remarkable feats have been performed, with 
 equal alacrity, by precious Messrs. Moody 
 and Sankey, and I am informed that ex- 
 peditious conversions are by no means 
 infrequent among politicians. But it was 
 vain to think of this resource, as William 
 had no voice, and knew no hymns, while I 
 had no means of access to a perambulating 
 harmonium. 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is, sir," said Bludger ; 
 " I have a notion." 
 
 "Name it, William," I replied, my heart
 
 FLIGHT. 8f 
 
 and manner softened by community in 
 suffering and terror. 
 
 " Well, if I were you, sir, I would not go 
 home to-night at all ; I'd stop where you are. 
 The beggars won't find you, let them hunt as 
 they like ; they daren't come near this place, 
 bless you, it's an 'Arnt ; " by which he meant 
 that it was haunted. 
 
 " Well," said I, " but how should wc be any 
 better off to-morrow morning ? " 
 
 "That's just it, sir," said Bludger. "We'll 
 be up with the first stroke of dawn, nip down 
 to the harbour, get on board a boat, and be 
 off before any of them are stirring." 
 
 " But, even if we manage to secure a boat," 
 I said, " what about provisions, and where are 
 we to sail for?" 
 
 "Oh, never mind that," said Bill ; "we can't 
 be worse off than we are, and I'll slip out to- 
 night, and lay in some prog in the town. 
 Also some grog, if I can lay my hands on it," 
 he added, with an unholy smile. 
 
 "No, William," I murmured; "no grog; 
 our lives depend on our sobriety." 
 
 "Always a-preaching, the old tub-thumper," 
 I heard William say to himself ; but he made 
 no further reference to the subject. 
 
 G
 
 82 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 It was now quite dark, and wc lay whisper- 
 ing, in the damp hollow under the great stone. 
 Our plan was to crawl away at the first blush 
 of dawn, when men generally sleep most 
 soundly ; that William should enter one of the 
 unguarded houses (for these people never 
 stole, and did not know the meaning of the 
 word "thief"), that he should help himself to 
 provisions, and that meanwhile I should have 
 a boat ready to start in the harbour. 
 
 This larcenous but inevitable programme 
 we carried out, after waiting through dreadful 
 hours of cold and shivering anxiety. Every 
 cry of a night bird from the marsh or the 
 wood sent my heart into my mouth. I 
 felt inconceivably mean and remorseful, my 
 vanity having received a dreadful shock from 
 the discovery that, far from being a god, I 
 was to be a kind of burnt-offering. 
 
 At last the east grew faintly grey, and we 
 started, not keeping together, but Bludger 
 marching cautiously in my rear, at a con- 
 siderable distance. We only met one person, 
 a dissipated young man, who, I greatly fear, 
 had been paying his court to a shepherdess 
 in the hills. When he shouted a challenge, I 
 replied, Erastes ciiiii, which means, I am sorry
 
 FLIGHT. 83 
 
 to say, " I am a lover," and implied that I, 
 also, had been engaged in low intrigue. 
 "Farewell, with good fortune," he replied, 
 and went on his way, singing some catch 
 about Amaryllis, who, I presume, was the 
 object of his unhallowed attentions. 
 
 We slipped into the silent town, unwalled 
 and unguarded as it was, for as one of their 
 own poets had said, "We dwell by the wash 
 of the waves, far off from toilsome men, and 
 with us are no folk conversant." They were 
 a race that knew war only by a vague tradi- 
 tion, that they had dwelt, at some former age, 
 in an island, perhaps New Zealand, where 
 they were subject to constant annoyance from 
 Giants, — a likely story. Thence they had 
 migrated to their present home, where only 
 one white man had ever been cast away — one 
 Odysseus, so their traditions declared — before 
 our arrival. Him, however, they had treated 
 hospitably, very unlike their contemplated 
 behaviour to Bludger and me. 
 
 I am obliged to make this historical 
 digression that the reader may understand 
 how it happened, under Providence, that we 
 were not detected in passing through the 
 town, and how Bludger successfully accom-
 
 84 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 plishcd what, I fear, was by no means his first 
 burglary. 
 
 We parted at the chiefs house. Bill to secure 
 provisions, and I to unmoor a boat, and bring 
 her round to a lonely bay on the coast, where 
 my companion was to join me. 
 
 I accomplished my task without the 
 slightest difficulty, selected a light craft, — 
 they did not use canoes, but rowed boats like 
 coracles, — and was lying at anchor, moored 
 with a heavy stone, in the bay. 
 
 The dawn was now breaking in the most 
 beautiful colours — gold, purple, crimson, and 
 green — across the sea. All nature was still, 
 save for the first pipe of awakening birds. 
 There was a delicate fragrance in the air, 
 which was at once soft and keen, and, as I 
 watched the red sunlight on the high cliffs, 
 and on the smooth trunks of the palm trees, 
 I felt, strange to say, a kind of reluctance to 
 leave the island. 
 
 The people, apart from their cruel and 
 abominable religion, were the gentlest and 
 most peaceful I have ever known. They 
 were beautiful to look upon, so finely made 
 and shapely that I have never seen their like. 
 Their language was exquisitely sweet and
 
 FLIGHT. 5^5 
 
 melodious, and though, except hymns, 1 do 
 not care for poetry, yet I must admit that 
 some of their compositions in verse were 
 extremely pleasing, though they were igno- 
 rant of the art of rhyme. All about them 
 was beautifully made, and they were ignorant 
 of poverty. I never saw a beggar on the 
 island ; and Christians, unhappily, do not 
 share their goods with each other, and with 
 the poor, so freely as did these benighted 
 heathens. Often have I laboured to make 
 them understand what our Pauper Question 
 means, but they could not comprehend me, 
 
 " How can a man lack home, and food, and 
 fire ? " they would say ; " do people not love 
 each other in your country ? " 
 
 I explained that we love each other as 
 Christians, but this did not seem to enlighten 
 their benighted minds. On the other hand, 
 it is true that they settle their population 
 question by strangling or exposing the 
 majority of their infant daughters. 
 
 Rocked on the smooth green swell of 
 the sea, beneath the white rocks, I was 
 brooding over these and many other matters, 
 when I heard sudden and violent movements 
 in the deep vegetation on the hillside. The
 
 86 THE END OF PH/EACIA. 
 
 laurel groves \\ere stirred, and Bill Bludger, 
 with a basket in his hand, bounded down the 
 slope, and swam for dear life to the boat. 
 
 " They're after me," he cried ; and at that 
 moment an arrow quivered in the side of the 
 boat, 
 
 I helped William on board as well as I 
 might, under a shower of arrows from the 
 hill-top, most of ^^•hich, owing to the distance, 
 were ill directed and fell short, or went wide. 
 
 Into the boat, at last, I got him, and 
 thrusting an oar in his direction, I said, 
 " Pull for your life," and began rowing. To 
 my horror, the boat made no way, but kept 
 spinning round. A glance in the bow showed 
 me what was the matter : William Bludger 
 was Jiopclessly intoxicated ! He had got at 
 the jars of wine in the chief's cellar, — thala- 
 mos, they call it, — and had not taken the 
 precaution of mixing the liquor with water, 
 as the natives invariably do when they drink. 
 The excitement of running had sent the 
 alcoholic fumes direct to his brain, and now 
 he lay, a useless and embarrassing cargo, in 
 the bows. Meanwhile, the shouts of the 
 natives rang nearer and louder, and I knew 
 that boats would soon be launched for our
 
 SAVED! 87 
 
 capture. I thought of throwhig Bludgcr 
 overboard, and sculHng, but determined not 
 to stani what might be my last moments 
 with an act of selfishness. I therefore pulled 
 hard for the open sea, but to no avail. On 
 every side boats crowded round me, and I 
 should probably have been shot, or speared, 
 but for the old priest, who, erect in the bows 
 of the largest vessel, kept yelling that we 
 were to be taken alive. 
 
 Alas ! I well knew the secret of his cruel 
 mercies. 
 
 He meant to reserve us for the sacrifice. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 SAVED ! 
 
 Why should I linger over the suiTerings of 
 the miserable week that followed our capture ? 
 Hauled back to my former home, I was 
 again made the object of the mocking rever- 
 ence of my captors. Ah, how often, in my 
 reckless youth, have my serious aunts warned 
 me that I " would be a goat at the last " ! 
 Too true, too true ; now I was to be a scape- 
 goat, to be driven forth, as these ignorant and
 
 S8 THE END GF PIL^EACIA. 
 
 strangely perverted people believed, with the 
 sins of the community on my head, those 
 sins which would, according to their miserable 
 superstition, be expiated by the death, and 
 consumed away by the burning, of myself 
 and William Bludger ! 
 
 The week went by, as all weeks must, and 
 at length came the solemn day which they 
 call Thargcelyah, the day more sacred than 
 any other to their idol, Apollon. Long before 
 sunrise the natives were astir ; indeed, I do 
 not think they went to bed at all, but spent 
 the night in hideous orgies. I know that, 
 tossing sleepless through the weary hours, 
 I heard the voices of young men and 
 women singing on the hillsides, and among 
 the myrtle groves which are holy to the 
 most disreputable of their deities, a female, 
 named ApJirodiglity. Harps were twanging 
 too, and I heard the refrain of one of the 
 native songs, " To-night they love who never 
 loved before ; to-night let him who loves love 
 all the more." The words have unconsciously 
 arranged themselves, even in English, as 
 poetry ; those who know Thomas Gowles 
 best, best know how unlikely it is that he 
 would willingly dabble in the worldly art of
 
 SA VED ! 89 
 
 verse-fashioninjT. Think of my reflections 
 with a painful, shameful, and, above all, 
 undeserved death before me, while all the 
 fragrant air was ringing with lascivious merri- 
 ment. My impression is that, as all the sins 
 of the year were, in their opinion, to be got 
 rid of next day, and tossed into the sea with 
 the ashes of Bludger and myself, the natives 
 had made up their minds — an eligible oppor- 
 tunity now presenting itself — to be as wicked 
 as they hieiv how. Alas ! though I have not 
 dwelt on this painful aspect of their character, 
 they " knew how " only too well. 
 
 The sun rose at last, and flooded the island, 
 when I perceived that, from every side, 
 crowds of revellers were pressing together 
 to the place \vhere I lay in fetters. They 
 had a wild, dissipated air, flowers were 
 wreathed and twisted in their wet and dewy 
 locks, which floated on the morning wind. 
 Many of the young men were merely dressed 
 — if " dressed " it could be called — in the 
 skins of leopards, panthers, bears, goats, and 
 deer, tossed over their shoulders. In their 
 hands they all held wet, dripping branches 
 of fragrant trees, many of them tipped with 
 pine cones, and wreathed with tendrils of the
 
 90 THE END OF PIJA^.ACIA. 
 
 vine. Others carried switches, of which I 
 divined the use only too clearly, and the 
 women were ^\■aving over their heads tame ser- 
 pents, which writhed and wriggled hideously. 
 It was an awful spectacle ! 
 
 I was dragged forth by these revellers ; 
 many of them were intoxicated, and, in a 
 moment — I blush even now to think of it — 
 I was stripped naked ! Nothing was left 
 to me but my hat and spectacles, which, for 
 some religious reason I presume, I was, 
 fortunately, allowed to retain. Then I was 
 driven with blows, which hurt a great deal, 
 into the market-place, and up to the great 
 altar, where William Bludger, also naked, 
 was lying more dead than ali\'c, 
 
 "William," I said solemnly, "what cheer?" 
 He did not answer me. Even in that 
 supreme moment it was not difficult to 
 discern that William had been looking on 
 the wine when it was red, and had not con- 
 fined himself to mere ocular observation. I 
 tried to m^ake him remember he was an 
 Englishman, that the honour of our country 
 was in our hands, and that we should die 
 with the courage and dignity befitting our 
 race. These were strange consolations and
 
 SA VED ! 9t 
 
 exhortations for iiic to offer in such an ex- 
 tremity, but, now it had come to the last 
 pass, it is curious what mere worldly thoughts 
 hurried through my mind. 
 
 My words were wasted : the natives seized 
 William and forced him to his feet. Then, 
 while a hymn was sung, they put chains 
 of black and white figs round our necks, and 
 thrust into our hands pieces of cheese, figs, 
 and certain peculiar herbs. This formed 
 part of what may well be called the " Ritual " 
 of this cruel race. May Ritualists heed 
 my words, and turn from the errors of their 
 ways ! 
 
 Tod well I knew all that now awaited 
 us. All that I had seen and shuddered at, 
 on the day of my landing on the island, was 
 now practised on self and partner. ]Ve had 
 to tread the long paved way to the distant 
 cove at the river's mouth ; we had to endure 
 the lashes from the switches of wild fig. The 
 priestess, carrying the wooden idol, walked 
 hard by us, and cried out, whenever the blows 
 fell fewer or lighter, that the idol was waxing 
 too heavy for her to bear. Then they re- 
 doubled their cruelties. 
 
 It was a wonderfully lovely day. In the
 
 92 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 blue heaven there was not a cloud. We had 
 reached the river's mouth, and were fast ap- 
 proaching the stakes that had already been 
 fixed in the sands for our execution ; nay, 
 the piles of green wood Avere already being 
 heaped up by the young men. There was, 
 there could be, no hope, and, weary and 
 wounded, I almost welcomed the prospect of 
 death, however cruel. 
 
 Suddenly the blows ceased to shower on 
 me, and I heard a cry from the lips of the old 
 priest, and, turning about, I saw that the eyes 
 of all the assembled multitude were fixed on 
 a point on the horizon. 
 
 Looking automatically in the direction to- 
 wards which they were gazing, I beheld — oh 
 joy, oh wonder ! — I beheld a long trail of 
 cloud floating level with the sea ! It was 
 the smoke of a steamer ! 
 
 "Too late, too late," I thought, and bitterly 
 reflected that, had the vessel appeared but an 
 hour earlier, the attention of my cruel captors 
 might have been diverted to such a spectacle 
 as they had never seen before. 
 
 But it was not too late. 
 
 Perched on a little hillock, and straining 
 his gaze to the south, the old priest was
 
 SA FED ! 93 
 
 speaking loudly and excitcdl}'. The crowd 
 deserted us, and gathered about him. 
 
 I threw myself on the sand, weary, hopeless, 
 parched with thirst, and racked with pain. 
 Bludger was ah'eady lying in a crumpled mass 
 at my feet. I think he had fainted. 
 
 I retained consciousness, but that was all. 
 The fierceness of the sun beat upon me, the 
 sky and sea and shore swam before mc in 
 a mist. Presently I heard the voice of the 
 priest, raised in the cadences which he favoured 
 when he was reading texts out of their sacred 
 books, if books they could be called. I looked 
 at him with a faint curiosity, and perceived 
 that he held in his hands the wooden casket, 
 adorned with strangely carved bands of gold 
 and ivory, which I had seen on the night of 
 my arrival on the island. 
 
 From this he had selected the old grey 
 scraps of metal, scratched, as I was well 
 aware, with what they conceived to be ancient 
 prophecies. 
 
 I was now sufficiently acquainted with the 
 lansfuafre to understand the verses which he 
 was chanting, and which I had already heard, 
 without comprehending them. They ran thus 
 in English :
 
 94 
 
 THE END OF FJLKACIA. 
 
 "But when a man, having a chimney pot 
 on his head, and four eyes, appears in Scheria, 
 and when a ship without sails also comes, sail- 
 ing without wind, and breathing smoke, then 
 shall destruction fall on the island." 
 
 He had not ended when it was plain, even 
 to those ignorant people, that the prophecy 
 was about to be fulfilled. From the long, 
 narrow, black line of the steamer, which had 
 approached us with astonishing speed, "sail- 
 ing without wind, and breathing smoke," there 
 burst six flashes of fire, followed by a peal 
 like thunder, and six tall fountains, as the 
 natives fancied, of sea-water rose and fell in 
 the bay, where the shells had lighted. 
 
 It was plain that the commander of the 
 vessel, finding himself in unknown seas, and 
 hard by an unvisited country, was determined 
 to strike terror and command respect by this 
 salute. 
 
 The noise of the broadside had scarcely 
 died away, when the natives fled, disappeared 
 like magic, leaving many of their garments 
 behind them. 
 
 They were making for their town, which 
 was concealed from the view of the rapidly 
 ncaring steamer. From her mast I could
 
 SA VED ! 95 
 
 now see, flaunting the slight breeze, the dear 
 old Union Jack, and the banner of the Salva- 
 tion Navy ! * 
 
 My resolution was taken in a moment. 
 Bludgcr had now recovered consciousness, 
 and was picking up heart. I thrust into his 
 hands one of the branches with which we had 
 been flogged, fastened to it a cloak of one of 
 the natives, bade him keep waving it from a 
 rocky promontor)-, and, rushing down to the 
 sea, I leaped in, and swam with all my 
 strength towards the vessel. Weak as I was, 
 my new hopes gave me strength, and pre- 
 sently, from the crest of a wave, I saw that the 
 people of the steamer were lowering a boat, 
 and rowing towards me. 
 
 In a few minutes they had reached me, my 
 countrymen's hands were in mine. They 
 dragged me on board ; they pulled back to 
 their vessel ; and I stood, entirely undressed, 
 on the deck of a British ship ! 
 
 So long had I lived among people heedless 
 of modesty that I was rushing, with open arms, 
 
 * Mr. Gowles was an ardent Liberal, but at the time when 
 he wrote, the Union Jacl< had not been denounced by liis 
 great leader. We have no doubt that, at a word from Mr. 
 Gladstone, he would have >ung, Home Rule, Ilibcniia ! — Ed. 
 Wandering Sheep.
 
 96 THE END OF PHJEACIA. 
 
 towards the officer on the quarter-deck, who 
 was dressed as a bishop, when I heard a 
 scream of horror. I turned round in time to 
 see the bishop's wife fleeing precipitately to 
 the cabin, and driving her children and gover- 
 ness in front of her. 
 
 Then all the horror of the situation flooded 
 my heart and brain, and I fell fainting on the 
 quarter-deck. 
 
 When I recovered my consciousness, I 
 found myself plainly but comfortably dressed 
 in the ordinary costume, except the hat, which 
 lay beside me, of a dean in the Church of 
 England. My wounds had been carefully 
 attended to, William Bludger had been taken 
 on board, and I was surrounded by the kind 
 faces of my benefactors, including the bishop's 
 consort. My apologies for my somewhat 
 sudden and unceremonious intrusion were cut 
 short by the arrival of tea and a slight colla- 
 tion suitable for an invalid. In an hour I was 
 walking the quarter-deck with the bishop in 
 command of the William Wilberforce, armed 
 steam yacht, of North Shields, fitted out 
 for the purposes of the Salvation Navy. 
 From the worthy prelate in command of the 
 William Wilberforce, I learned much concern-
 
 SA VED ! 97 
 
 ing his own past career and the nature of liis 
 enterprise, as I directed the navigation of the 
 vessel through the shoals and reefs which lay 
 about the harbour of the island. 
 
 The bishop (a purely brevet title) would 
 refresh his memory, now and then, from a 
 penny biography of himself M'ith which he 
 was provided, and the following, in brief, is a 
 record of his life and adventures : — 
 
 Thomas Sloggins (that was his name), 
 from his earliest infancy, had been possessed 
 with a passion for doing good to others, a pas- 
 sion, alas ! but too rarely reciprocated. I pass 
 over many affecting details of his adventures 
 as a ministering child : how he endeavoured 
 to win his father from tobacco by breaking 
 his favourite pipes ; how he strove to Avean 
 his elder brother from cruel field-sports, by 
 stuffing the joints of his fishing-rod with 
 gravel ; with many other touching incidents. 
 
 Being almost entirely uneducated, young 
 Sloggins, when he reached man's estate, con- 
 ceived that he would most benefit his fellow- 
 creatures by combining the professions of the 
 pulpit and the press — by preaching on Sun- 
 days and at odd times, while he acted as 
 outdoor reporter to The Rou'dy Puritaii on 
 
 II
 
 98 THE END OF PFTMACIA. 
 
 every lawful day. Being a man of great 
 earnestness and enterprise, he soon rose in 
 the ranks of the Salvation Navy ; and at one 
 time commanded an evangelical barge on the 
 benighted canals of our country. Finally, he 
 made England almost too hot to hold him, by 
 the original forms of his benevolence, while, 
 at the same time, he acquired the utmost 
 esteem and confidence of many wealthy 
 philanthropists and excellent, if impulsive, 
 ladies. These good people provided him with 
 that well-equipped and armed steam yacht, 
 the William Wilberforce, which he manned 
 with a crew of converted characters (they 
 certainly looked as if they must have needed 
 a great deal of converting), and he had now 
 for months been cruising in the South Pacific. 
 A local cyclone had driven the William Wil- 
 berforce out of her reckoning, and hence the 
 appearance of that vessel in the very nick of 
 time to achieve my rescue. 
 
 When the bishop had finished his story, I 
 briefly recapitulated to him my own adven- 
 tures, and we agreed that the conversion of 
 the island must be our earliest task. To 
 begin with, we steered into the harbour, 
 where a vast multitude of the natives were
 
 SAVED! 99 
 
 assembled in arms, and awaited our approach 
 with a threatening demeanour. Our landing 
 was opposed, but a few well-directed volleys 
 from a Gardiner gun (which did not jam) 
 caused the hostile force to disperse, and we 
 landed in great state. Marching on the 
 chief's house, we were received with an abject 
 submission that I had scarcely expected. 
 The people were absolutely cowed, more by 
 the fulfilment of the prophecy, I think, than 
 even by tlie execution done by our Gardiner 
 machine gun. At the bishop's request, I 
 delivered a harangue in the native tongue, 
 declaring that we only required the British 
 flag to be hoisted on the palace, and the 
 immediate disendowment of the heathen 
 church as in those parts established. I was 
 listened to in uneasy silence ; but my demand 
 for lodgings in the palace was acceded to ; 
 and, in a few hours, the bishop, with his wife 
 and children, were sumptuously housed under 
 the roof of the chief The ladies of the 
 chief's family showed great curiosity in 
 watching and endeavouring to converse with 
 our friends. I was amused to see how soon 
 the light-hearted islanders appeared to forget 
 their troubles and apprehensions. Doto, in
 
 ICO THE END OF PH.EACIA. 
 
 particular, became quite devoted to the 
 prelate's elder daughter (the youngest of the 
 bishop's family was suffering from measles), 
 and would never be out of her company. 
 Thus all seemed to fare merrily; presents were 
 brought to us — flowers, fruit, the feathers of 
 rare birds, and ornaments of native gold were 
 literally showered upon the ladies of the 
 party. The chief promised to call a meeting 
 of his counsellors on the morrow, and all 
 seemed going on well, when, alas ! measles 
 broke out in the palace. The infant whom 
 I had presented to Doto — the infant whom 
 I had found on the mountain side — was the 
 first sufferer. Then Doto caught the disease 
 herself, then her mother, then the chief. In 
 vain we attempted to nurse and tend them ; 
 in vain we expended the contents of the 
 ship's medicine chest on the invalids. The 
 malady having, as it were, an entirely new 
 field to work upon, raged like the most awful 
 pestilence. Through all ranks of the people 
 it spread like wild-fire ; many died, none 
 could be induced to take the most ordinary 
 precautions. The natives became, as it were, 
 mad under the torments of fever and the 
 burning heat of the unaccustomed malady ;
 
 SAVED! loi 
 
 they rushed about, quite unclad, for the sake 
 of the deceptive coolness, and hundreds of 
 them cast themselves into the sea and into 
 the ri\er. 
 
 It Avas my sad lot to see my dear Doto 
 die — the first of the sufferers in the palace 
 to succumb to the disease. Meanwhile, the 
 bishop and myself being entirely absorbed 
 in attendance on the sick, the crew of the 
 Williani Wilber force, I deeply regret to say, 
 escaped from all restraint, and forgot what 
 was due to themselves and their profession. 
 They revelled with the most abandoned of 
 the natives, and disease and drink ravaged 
 the once peaceful island. Every sign of 
 government and order vanished. The old 
 priest built a huge pile of firewood, and 
 laying himself there with the images of the 
 gods, set fire to the whole, and perished with 
 his own false religion. 
 
 After this event, the island ceased to be 
 a safe residence for ourselves. Among the 
 mountains, as I learned, where the pestilence 
 had not yet penetrated, the shepherds and 
 the wilder tribes were gathering in arms. 
 One night we stole on board the William 
 Wilberforce, leaving the city desolate, filled
 
 102 THE E.VD OF PILEACIA. 
 
 with the smoke of funeral pyres, and the 
 waiHng of men and women. There was 
 a dreadful sultry stillness in the air, and all 
 day long wild beasts had been dashing madly 
 into the sea, and the sky had been obscured 
 by flights of birds. On all the crests of the 
 circle of surrounding hills we saw, in the 
 growing darkness, the beacons and camp fires 
 of the insurgents from the interior. Just 
 before the dawn the William Wilberforce 
 was attacked by the whole mass of the 
 natives in boats and rafts. But we had not 
 been unprepared for this movement, nor 
 were the resources of science unequal to the 
 occasion. We had surrounded the William 
 Wilberforce with a belt, or cordon, of torpedoes, 
 and as each of the assaulting boats touched 
 the boom, a terrible explosion shook the 
 water into fountains of foam, and the waves 
 were strewn with scalded, wounded, and 
 mutilated men. Meanwhile, we bombarded 
 the city and the harbour, and the night 
 passed amid the most awful sounds and 
 sights — fire, smoke, yells of anger and pain, 
 cries of the native leaders encouraging their 
 men, and shouts from our own people, who 
 had to repel the boarders when the boom
 
 SA VED ! 103 
 
 was at last forced, with pikes and cutlasses. 
 Just before the dawn a strange thing happened. 
 A great glowing coal, as it seemed, fell with 
 a hissing crash on the deck of the Williain 
 Wilbei'force, and others dropped, with a 
 strange sound and a dreadful odour of burn- 
 ing, in the water all around us. Had the 
 natives discovered some mode of retaliating 
 on our use of firearms ? 
 
 I looked in the direction of their burninnf 
 city, and beheld, on the sharp peak of the 
 highest mountain (now visible in the grey 
 morning light), an object like a gigantic pine- 
 tree of fire. The blazing trunk rose, slim and 
 straight, from the mountain crest, and, at a 
 vast height, developed a wilderness of burning 
 branches. Fearful hollow sounds came from 
 the hill, its sides were seamed with racing 
 cataracts of living lava, of coursing and leap- 
 ing flames, which rolled down with incredible 
 swiftness and speed towards the doomed city. 
 Then the waters of the harbour were smitten 
 and shaken, and the Willimii Wilberforce 
 rocked and heaved as in the most appalling 
 storm, though all the winds were silent, while 
 a mighty wave swept far inland towards the 
 streams of fire. There was no room for
 
 104 THE END OF PHMACIA. 
 
 doubt ; a volcanic eruption was occurring, 
 and a submarine earthquake, as not un- 
 commonly happens, had also taken place. 
 Our only hope was in immediate flight. 
 Presently steam was got up, and we steamed 
 away into the light of the glowing east, 
 leaving behind us only a burning island, and 
 a fire like an ugly dawn flaring in the western 
 sky. 
 
 When we returned in the evening, Booth- 
 land — as I may now indeed call it, for Scheria 
 has ceased to be — was one black smoking 
 cinder. 
 
 Hardly a tree or a recognizable rock 
 remained to show that this had once been 
 a peaceful home of men. The oracle, or 
 prophecy of the old priest, had been horribly, 
 though, of course, quite accidentally, fulfilled. 
 * * « * * 
 
 Little remains to be told. On my return 
 home, I chanced to visit the British Museum, 
 and there, much to my surprise, observed an 
 old piece of stone, chipped with the characters, 
 or letters, in use among the natives of Scheria. 
 
 " Why," said I, reading the words aloud, 
 " these are the characters which the natives 
 employed on my island."
 
 SAVED! 1 05 
 
 " These ? " said the worthy official who 
 accompanied me. " Why, these are the most 
 archaic Greek letters which have yet been 
 discovered : inscriptions from beneath the 
 lava beds of Santorin." 
 
 " I can't help that," I said, " The Polynesians 
 used them too ; and you see I can read them 
 easily, though I don't know Greek." 
 
 I then told him the whole story of my 
 connection with the island, and of the 
 unfortunate results of the contact between 
 these poor people and our superior modern 
 civilization. 
 
 I have rarely seen a man more affected by 
 any recital than was the head of the classical 
 department of the Museum by my artless 
 narrative. When I described the sacrifice I 
 saw on landing in the island, he exclaimed, 
 " Great Heavens ! the Attic Thargelia." 
 He grew more and more excited as I went 
 on, and producing a Greek book, " Pausanias," 
 he showed me that the sacrifice of wild beasts 
 was practised sixteen hundred years ago in 
 honour of Artemis Elaphria. The killing of 
 old Elatreus for entering the town hall 
 reminded him of a custom in Achaea 
 Pthiotis. When I had finished my tale, he
 
 io6 TFIE END OF PH^ACIA. 
 
 burst out into violent and libellous language. 
 "You have destroyed," he said, "with your 
 miserable modern measles and Gardiner 
 guns, the last remaining city of the ancient 
 Greeks. The winds cast you on the shore of 
 Phceacia, the island sung by Homer ; and, 
 in your brutal ignorance, you never knew it. 
 You have ruined a happy, harmless, and 
 peaceful people, and deprived archaeology of 
 an opportunity that can never, never return ! " 
 
 I do not know about archaeology, but as 
 for " harmless and peaceful people," I leave it 
 to my readers to say whether the islanders 
 were anything of the sort. 
 
 I learn that the Government has just refused 
 to give the Museum a grant of five thousand 
 pounds to be employed in what are called 
 "Excavations in Ancient Phseacia," diggings, 
 that is, in Boothland. 
 
 With so many darkened people still ignorant 
 of our enlightened civilization, I think the 
 grant would be a shameful waste of public 
 money.* 
 
 * l-'rom Wandering Sheep.
 
 SA VED ! 107 
 
 We publish the original text of the 
 prophecy repeatedly alluded to by Mr. 
 Gowle.s. The learned say that no equivalent 
 occurs for the line about his "four eyes," and 
 it is insinuated, in a literary journal of 
 eminence, that Mr. Gowles pilfered the notion 
 from Good's g\-a.ss eye, in a secular romance, 
 called King Solomon's Mines, which Mr. 
 Gowles, we are sure, ne\"er heard of in his 
 life. — Ed. 
 
 THE PROPHECY. 
 
 AAA OTt KaiTV0^6\0V Tir t\lOV TTtfH KfrnUTOQ 
 
 avXbv 
 Km V)]V(; irvpi-mfiTTTOq arip TTTepvywv avt/noKtwv 
 'l^erai thj \\.wii]v \ipaov Sm XaiTf^ia Ba\aacn]c, 
 Of) TOTt TTOvXvftoTi.ipav tTTt yOova \oifioc; iKavn 
 
 C,VV ci 7£ TO) TTToXi/XOC, TOTi. 0>) BtOl iK\ft\pOVaiV 
 
 e^ icpavojv, tiit oXhtcu alurwdivTa kut aKpi]<;.
 
 IN THE WRONG PARADISE.
 
 IN THE WRONG I'ARADISE. 
 
 AN OCCIDEX'PAL APOLOGUE. 
 
 In the drawing-room, or, as it is more correctly 
 called, the " dormitory," of my club, I had 
 been reading a volume named " Sur I'Huma- 
 nite Posthunie," by M. D'Assicr, a French 
 follower of Comte. The mixture of posi- 
 tivism and ghost-stories highly diverted me. 
 Moved by the sagacity and pertinence of M. 
 D'Assier's arguments for a limited and for- 
 tuitous immortalit)', I fell into such an uncon- 
 trollable fit of laughter as caused, I could 
 see, first annoyance and then anxiety in 
 those members of my club whom my ex- 
 plosion of mirth had awakened. As I still 
 chuckled and screamed, it appeared to me 
 that the noise I made gradually grew fainter 
 and more distant, seeming to resound in some 
 vast empty space, even more funereal and
 
 112 IN THE WRONG PARADISE. 
 
 melancholy than the dormitory of my club, 
 the " Tepidarium." It has happened to most 
 people to laugh themselves awake out of a 
 dream, and every one who has done so must 
 remember the ghastly, hollow, and maniacal 
 sound of his own mirth. It rings horribly in 
 a quiet room where there has been, as the 
 Veddahs of Ceylon say is the case in the world 
 at large, "nothing to laugh at." Dean Swift 
 once came to himself, after a dream, laughing 
 thus hideously at the following conceit : " I 
 told Apronia to be very careful especially 
 about the legs." Well, the explosions of my 
 laughter crackled in a yet more weird and 
 lunatic fashion about my own ears as I slowly 
 became aware that I had died of an excessive 
 sense of the ludicrous, and that the space in 
 which I was so inappropriately giggling was, 
 indeed, the fore-court of the House of Hades. 
 As I grew more absolutely convinced of this 
 truth, and began dimly to discern a strange 
 world visible in a sallow light, like that of the 
 London streets when a black fog hangs just 
 over the houses, my hysterical chuckling 
 gradually died away. Amusement at the 
 poor follies of mortals was succeeded by an 
 awful and anxious curiosity as to the state of
 
 AN OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 113 
 
 immortality and the life after death. Already 
 it was certain that " the Manes are somewhat," 
 and that annihilation is the dream of people 
 sceptical through lack of imagination. The 
 scene around me now resolved itself into a 
 high grey upland country, bleak and wild, 
 like the waste pastoral places of Liddesdale. 
 As I stood expectant, I observed a figure 
 coming towards me at some distance. The 
 figure bore in its hand a gun, and, as I am 
 short-sighted, I at first conceived that he was 
 the gamekeeper. "This affair," I tried to say 
 to myself, " is only a dream after all ; I shall 
 wake and forget my nightmare." 
 
 But still the man drew nearer, and I began 
 to perceive my error. Gamekeepers do not 
 usually paint their faces red and green, 
 neither do they wear scalp-locks, a tuft of 
 eagle's feathers, moccasins, and buffalo-hide 
 cloaks, embroidered with representations of 
 war and the chase. This was the accoutre- 
 ment of the stranger who now approached 
 me, and whose copper-coloured complexion 
 indicated that he was a member of the Red 
 Indian, or, as the late Mr. Morgan called it, 
 the " Ganowanian " race. The stranger's 
 attire was old and clouted ; the barrel of his 
 
 I
 
 114 ^^"^ THE WRONG PARADISE. 
 
 flint-lock musket was rusted, and the stock 
 was actually overgrown with small funguses. 
 It was a peculiarity of this man that every- 
 thing he carried was more or less broken and 
 outworn. The barrel of his piece was riven, 
 his tomahawk was a mere shard of rusted 
 steel, on many of his accoutrements the 
 vapour of fire had passed. He approached 
 me with a stately bearing, and, after saluting 
 me in the fashion of his people, gave me to 
 know that he welcomed me to the land of 
 spirits, and that he was deputed to carry me 
 to the paradise of the Ojibbeways. " But, 
 sir," I cried in painful confusion, "there is here 
 some great mistake. I am no Ojibbeway, 
 but an Agnostic ; the after-life of spirits is 
 only (as one of our great teachers says) ' an 
 hypothesis based on contradictory proba- 
 bilities ; ' and I really must decline to accom- 
 pany you to a place of which the existence is 
 uncertain, and which, if it does anywhere exist, 
 would be uncongenial in the extreme to a 
 person of my habits." 
 
 To this remonstrance my Ojibbeway Virgil 
 answered, in effect, that in the enormous 
 passenger traffic between the earth and the 
 next worlds mistakes must and frequently do
 
 AN OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 115 
 
 occur. Quisque siios patiniur manes, as the 
 Roman says, is the rule, but there are many 
 exceptions. Many a man finds himself in the 
 paradise of a religion not his own, and suffers 
 from the consequences. This was, in brief, 
 the explanation of my guide, who could only 
 console me by observing that if I felt ill at 
 ease in the Ojibbcway paradise, I might, per- 
 haps, be more fortunate in that of some other 
 creed. " As for your Agnostics," said he, 
 "their main occupation in their own next 
 world is to read the poetry of George Eliot 
 and the philosophical works of Mr. J, S. Mill." 
 On hearing this, I was much consoled for 
 having missed the entrance to my proper 
 sphere, and I prepared to follow my guide 
 with cheerful alacrity, into the paradise of the 
 Ojibbeways. 
 
 Our track lay, at first, along the " Path of 
 Souls," and the still, grey air was only dis- 
 turbed by a faint rustling and twittering of 
 spirits on the march. We seemed to have 
 journeyed but a short time, when a red light 
 shone on the left hand of the way. As we 
 drew nearer, this light appeared to proceed 
 from a prodigious strawberry, a perfect moun- 
 tain of a strawberry. Its cool and shining
 
 fl6 IN THE WRONG PARADISE. 
 
 sides seemed very attractive to a thirsty 
 Soul. A red man, dressed strangely in tlic 
 feathers of a raven, stood hard by, and loudly 
 invited all passers-by to partake of this 
 refreshment. I was about to excavate a 
 portion of the monstrous strawberry (being 
 partial to that fruit), when my guide held my 
 hand and whispered in a low voice that they 
 who accepted the invitation of the man that 
 guarded the strawberry were lost. He added 
 that, into whatever paradise I might stray, 
 I must beware of tasting any of the food of 
 the departed. All who yield to the tempta- 
 tion must inevitably remain where they have 
 put the food of the dead to their lips. "You," 
 said my guide, with a slight sneer, "seem 
 rather particular about your future home, and 
 you must be especially careful to make no 
 error." Thus admonished, I followed my 
 suide to the river which runs between our 
 world and the paradise of the Ojibbeways. 
 A large stump of a tree lies half across the 
 stream, the other half must be crossed by the 
 agility of the wayfarer. Little children do 
 but badly here, and "an Ojibbeway woman," 
 said my guide, " can never be consoled when 
 her child dies before it is fairly expert in
 
 AN OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 117 
 
 jumping. Such young children they cannot 
 expect to meet again in paradise." I made 
 no reply, but was reminded of some good 
 and unhappy women I had known on earth, 
 who were inconsolable because their babes 
 had died before being sprinkled with water 
 by a priest. These babes they, like the 
 Ojibbewa}' matrons, "could not expect to 
 meet again in paradise." To a grown-up 
 spirit the jump across the mystic river 
 presented no difficult)', and I found myself 
 instantly among the wigwams of the Ojibbe- 
 way heaven. It was a remarkably large 
 village, and as far as the eye could see huts 
 and tents were erected along the river. The 
 sound of magic songs and of drums filled all 
 the air, and in the fields the spirits were 
 playing lacrosse. All the people of the 
 village had deserted their homes and were 
 enjoying themselves at the game. Outside 
 one hut, however, a perplexed and forlorn 
 phantom was sitting, and to my surprise I 
 saw that he was dressed in European clothes. 
 As we drew nearer I observed that he wore 
 the black garb and white neck-tie of a minister 
 in some religious denomination, and on coming 
 to still closer quarters I recognized an old
 
 Ii8 IN THE WRONG PARADISE. 
 
 acquaintance, the Rev. Peter McSnadden, 
 Now Peter had been a"jined member "of that 
 mysterious " U. P. Kirk" which, according 
 to the author of "Lothair," was founded by 
 the Jesuits for the greater confusion of Scotch 
 theology. Peter, I knew, had been active as 
 a missionary among the Red Men in Canada; 
 but I had neither heard of his death nor 
 could conceive how his shade had found its 
 way into a paradise so inappropriate as that 
 in which I encountered him. Though never 
 very fond of Peter, my heart warmed to him, 
 as the heart sometimes does to an acquaint- 
 ance unexpectedly met in a strange land. 
 Coming cautiously behind him, I slapped 
 Peter on the shoulder, whereon he leaped 
 up with a wild unearthly yell, his countenance 
 displaying lively tokens of terror. When he 
 recognized me he first murmured, " I thought 
 it was these murdering Apaches again ; " and 
 it was long before I could soothe him, or get 
 him to explain his fears, and the circumstance 
 of his appearance in so strange a final home. 
 ' Sir," said Peter, "it's just some terrible 
 mistake. For twenty years was I preaching 
 to these poor painted bodies anent heaven 
 and hell, and trying to win them from their
 
 AA' OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 119 
 
 fearsome notions about a place where they 
 would play at the ba' on the Sabbath, and 
 the like shameful heathen diversions. Many 
 a time did I round it to them about a far, far 
 other place — 
 
 " Where congregations ne'er break up, 
 And sermons never end ! " 
 
 And now, lo and behold, here I am in their 
 heathenish Gehenna, where the Sabbath-day 
 is just clean neglected ; indeed, I have lost 
 count myself, and do not know one day from 
 the other. Oh, man, it's just rideec'lous. A 
 body — I mean a soul — docs not know where 
 to turn." Here Peter, whose accent I can- 
 not attempt to reproduce (he was a Paisley 
 man), burst into honest tears. Though I 
 could not but agree with Peter that his 
 situation was "just rideec'lous," I consoled 
 him as well as I might, saying that a man 
 should make the best of every position, and 
 that "where there was life there was hope," 
 a sentiment of which I instantly perceived the 
 futility in this particular instance. "Ye do 
 not know the worst," the Rev. Mr. McSnadden 
 went on. " I am here to make them sport, 
 like Samson among the Philistines. Their 
 paradise would be no paradise to them if they
 
 I20 JN THE WRONG PARADISE. 
 
 had not a pale-face, as they say, to scalp and 
 tomahawk. And I am that pale-face. Before 
 you can say 'scalping-knife' these awful 
 Apaches may be on me, taking my scalp and 
 other leeberties with my person. It grows 
 again, my scalp does, immediately ; but that's 
 only that they may take it some other day." 
 The full horror of Mr. McSnadden's situation 
 now dawned upon me, but at the same time 
 I could not but perceive that, without the 
 presence of some pale-face to torture — Peter 
 or another — paradise would, indeed, be no 
 paradise to a Red Indian. In the same way 
 TertulHan (or some other early Father) has 
 remarked that the pleasures of the blessed 
 will be much enhanced by what they observe 
 of the torments of the wicked. As I was 
 reflecting thus two wild yells burst upon my 
 hearing. One came from a band of Apache 
 spirits who had stolen into the Ojibbeway 
 village ; the other scream was uttered by my 
 unfortunate friend. I confess that I fled with 
 what speed I might, nor did I pause till the 
 groans of the miserable Peter faded in the 
 distance. He was, indeed, a man in the wrong 
 paradise. 
 
 In my anxiety to avoid sharing the fate of
 
 AN OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 12 1 
 
 Peter at the hands of the Apaches, I had run 
 out of sight and sound of the Ojibbcway 
 village. When I paused I found myself 
 alone, on a wide sandy tract, at the extremity 
 of which was an endless thicket of dark 
 poplar-trees, a grove dear to Persephone. 
 Here and there in the dank sand, half buried 
 by the fallen generations of yellow poplar- 
 leaves, were pits dug, a cubit every way, and 
 there were many ruinous altars of ancient 
 stones. On some were engraved figures of 
 a divine pair, a king and queen seated on 
 a throne, while men and women approached 
 them with cakes in their hands or with the 
 sacrifice of a cock. While I was admiring 
 these strange sights, I beheld as it were a 
 .moving light among the deeps of the poplar 
 thicket, and presently saw coming towards 
 me a young man clad in white raiment and 
 of a radiant aspect. In his hand he bore a 
 golden wand whereon were wings of gold. 
 The first down of manhood was on his lip ; 
 he was in that season of life when youth 
 is most gracious. Then I knew him to be 
 no other than Hermes of the golden rod, 
 the guide of the souls of men outworn. He 
 took my hand with a word of welcome, and
 
 122 IN THE WRONG PARADISE. 
 
 led mc through the gloom of the poplar 
 trees. 
 
 Like Thomas the Rhymer, on his way to 
 Fairyland — 
 
 •' We saw neither sun nor moon, 
 But we heard the roaring of the sea." 
 
 This eternal " swowing of a flode " was the 
 sound made by the circling stream of Oceanus, 
 as he turns on his bed, washing the base of 
 the White Rock, and the sands of the region 
 of dreams. So we fleeted onwards till we 
 came to marvellous lofty gates of black 
 adamant, that rose before us like the steep 
 side of a hill. On the left side of the gates 
 we beheld a fountain flowing from beneath 
 the roots of a white cypress-tree, and to this 
 fountain my guide forbade me to draw near. 
 " There is another yonder," he said, pointing 
 to the right hand, " a stream of still water that 
 issues from the Lake of Memory, and there 
 are guards who keep that stream from the 
 lips of the profane. Go to them and speak 
 thus : 'J am the child of earth and of the 
 starry sky, yet heavenly is my lineage, and 
 this yourselves know right well. But I am 
 perishing with thirst, so give me speedily of 
 that still water which floweth forth of the
 
 AN OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 123 
 
 mere of Memory.' And they will t^ive thee 
 to drink of that spring divine, and then shalt 
 thou dwell with the heroes and the blessed." 
 So I did as he said, and went before the 
 guardians of the water. Now they were 
 veiled, and their voices, when they answered 
 me, seemed to come from far away, " Thou 
 comest to the pure, from the pure," they said, 
 " and thou art a suppliant of holy Persephone. 
 Happy and most blessed art thou, advance 
 to the reward of the crown desirable, and be 
 no longer mortal, but divine." Then a 
 darkness fell upon me, and lifted again like 
 mist on the hills, and we found ourselves 
 in the most beautiful place that can be con- 
 ceived, a meadow of that short grass which 
 grows on some shores beside the sea. There 
 were large spaces of fine and solid turf, but, 
 where the little streams flowed from the 
 delicate-tinted distant mountains, there were 
 narrow valleys full of all the flowers of a 
 southern spring. Here grew narcissus and 
 hyacinths, violets and creeping th}MTic, and 
 crocus and the crimson rose, as they blossomed 
 on the day when the milk-white bull carried 
 off Europa. Beyond the level land beside 
 the sea, between these coasts and the far-off
 
 124 /A' THE WRONG PARADISE. 
 
 hills, was a steep lonely rock, on which were 
 set the shining temples of the Grecian faith. 
 The blue seas that begirt the coasts were 
 narrow, and ran like rivers between many 
 islands not less fair than the country to which 
 we were come, while other isles, each with its 
 crest of clear-cut hills, lay westward, far away, 
 and receding into the place of the sunset. 
 Then I recognized the Fortunate Islands 
 spoken of by Pindar, and the paradise of the 
 Greeks. " Round these the ocean breezes 
 blow and golden flowers are glowing, some 
 from the land on trees of splendour, and 
 some the water feedeth, with wreaths whereof 
 they entwine their hands."* And, as Pindar 
 says again, "for them shineth below the 
 strength of the sun, while in our world it is 
 night, and the space of crimson-flowered 
 meadows before their city is full of the shade 
 of frankincense-trees and of fruits of gold. 
 And some in horses and in bodily feats, and 
 some in dice, and some in harp-playing have 
 delight, and among them thriveth all fair 
 flowering bliss ; and fragrance ever streameth 
 through the lovely land as they mingle 
 incense of every kind upon the altars of the 
 * From Mr. E, Myers's " Pindar."
 
 AN OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 125 
 
 gods." In this beautiful country I took great 
 delight, now watching the young men leaping 
 and running (and they were marvellously 
 good over a short distance of ground), now 
 sitting in a chariot whereto were harnessed 
 steeds swifter than the wind, like those that, 
 Homer says, "the gods gave, glorious gifts, 
 to Peleus." And the people, young and old, 
 received me kindly, welcoming me in their 
 Greek speech, which was like the sound of 
 music. And because I had ever been a lover 
 of them and of their tongue, my ears were 
 opened to understand them, though they spoke 
 not Greek as we read it. Now when I had 
 beheld many of the marvels of the Fortunate 
 Islands, and had sat at meat with those kind 
 hosts (though I only made semblance to eat 
 of what they placed before me), and had seen 
 the face of Rhadamanthus of the golden hair, 
 who is the lord of that country, my friends 
 told me that there was come among them 
 one of my own nation who seemed most sad 
 and sorrowful, and they could make him no 
 mirth. Then they carried me to a house in 
 a grove, and all around it a fair garden, and 
 a well in the midst. 
 
 Now stooping over the well, that he
 
 126 IiV THE WRONG PARADISE, 
 
 might have sight of his own face, was a 
 most wretched man. He was pale and very 
 meagre ; he had black rings under his eyes, 
 and his hair was long, limp, and greasy, fall- 
 ing over his shoulders. He was clad some- 
 what after the manner of the old Greeks, 
 but his raiment was wofully ill-made and 
 ill-girt upon him, nor did he ever seem at 
 his ease. As soon as I beheld his sallow 
 face I knew him for one I had seen and 
 mocked at in the world of the living. "He 
 was a certain Figgins, and he had been 
 honestly apprenticed to a photographer ; but, 
 being a weak and vain young fellow, he had 
 picked up modern notions about art, the 
 nude, plasticity, and the like, in the photo- 
 grapher's workroom, whereby he became a 
 weariness to the photographer and to them 
 that sat unto him. Being dismissed from 
 his honest employment, this chitterling must 
 needs become a model to some painters that 
 were near as ignorant as himself. They 
 talked to him about the Greeks, about the 
 antique, about Paganism, about the Renais- 
 sance, till they made him as much the child 
 of folly as themselves. And they painted 
 him as Antinous, as Eros, as Sleep, and I
 
 AN OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 127 
 
 know not what, but whatever name they 
 called him he was always the same lank- 
 haired, dowdy, effeminate, pasty-faced photo- 
 grapher's young man. Then he must needs 
 take to writing poems all about Greece, and 
 the free ways of the old Greeks, and Lais, 
 and Phryne, and therein he made " Aeolus " 
 rhyme to " control us." For of Greek this 
 fellow knew not a word, and any Greek that 
 met him had called him a ico'AAov//, and bidden 
 him begone to the crows for a cursed fellow, 
 and one that made false quantities in every 
 Greek name he uttered. But his little poems 
 were much liked by young men of his own 
 sort, and by some of the young women. Now 
 death had come to Figgins, and here he was 
 in the Fortunate Islands, the very paradise 
 of those Greeks about whom he had always 
 been prating while he was alive. And yet he 
 was not happy. A little lyre lay beside him 
 in the grass, and now and again he twanged 
 on it dolorously, and he tried to w^eave 
 himself garlands from the flowers that grew 
 around him ; but he knew not the art, and 
 ever and anon he felt for his button-hole, 
 wherein to stick a lily or the like. But he 
 had no button-hole. Then he would look at
 
 128 I.V THE WRONG PARADISE. 
 
 himself in the well, and yawn and wish 
 himself back in his friends' studios in London. 
 I almost pitied the wretch, and, going up to 
 him, I asked him how he did. He said he 
 had never been more wretched. " Why," I 
 asked, " was your mouth not always full of 
 the ' Greek spirit,' and did you not mock the 
 Christians and their religion "i And, as to 
 their heaven, did you not say that it was 
 a tedious place, full of pious old ladies and 
 Philistines ? And are you not got to the 
 paradise of the Greeks ? What, then, ails 
 you with your lot 1 " " Sir," said he, " to be 
 plain with you, I do not understand a word 
 these fellows about me say, and I feel as I 
 did the first time I went to Paris, before 
 I knew enough French to read the Master's 
 poems.* Again, every one here is mirthful 
 and gay, and there is no man with a divinely 
 passionate potentiality of pain. When I first 
 came here they were always asking me to 
 run with them or jump against them, and 
 one fellow insisted I should box with him, 
 and hurt me very much. My potentiality 
 of pain is considerable. Or they would have 
 me drive with them in these dangerous open 
 
 * Poor Figgins always called ]M. Baudelaire " ihc Master."
 
 A.V OCCIDENTAL AfOLOGUE. 129 
 
 chariots, — mc, that never rode in a hansom 
 cab without feeling nervous. And after 
 dinner they sing songs of which I do not 
 catch the meaning of one syllable, and the 
 music is like nothing I ever heard in my life. 
 And they are all abominably active and 
 healthy. And such of their poets as I 
 admired — in Bohn's cribs, of course — the 
 poets of the Anthology, are not here at all, 
 and the poets who are here are tremendous 
 proud toffs" (here Figgins relapsed into his 
 natural style as it was before he became a 
 Neopagan poet), "and won't sa\' a word to 
 a cove. And I'm sick of the Greeks, and the 
 Fortunate Islands are a blooming fraud, and 
 oh, for paradise, give mc Pentonville." With 
 these words, perhaps the only unaffected 
 expression of genuine sentiment poor Figgins 
 had ever uttered, he relapsed into a gloomy 
 silence. I advised him to cultivate the society 
 of the authors whose selected works are in 
 the Greek Delectus, and to try to make 
 friends with Xenophon, whose Greek is about 
 as easy as that of any ancient. But I fear 
 that Figgins, like the Rev. Peter McSnadden, 
 is really sufifering a kind of punishment in 
 the disguise of a reward, and all through 
 
 K
 
 I30 IN THE WRONG PARADISE. 
 
 having accidentally found his way into what 
 he foolishly thought would be the right 
 paradise for him. 
 
 Now I might have stayed long in the 
 Fortunate Islands, yet, beautiful as they were, 
 I ever felt like Odysseus in the island of fair 
 Circe. The country was lovely and the land 
 desirable, but the Christian souls were not 
 there without whom heaven itself were no para- 
 dise to me. And it chanced that as we sat at 
 the feast a maiden came to me with a pome- 
 granate on a plate of silver, and said, " Sir, 
 thou hast now been here for the course of a 
 •whole moon, yet hast neither eaten nor drunk 
 of what is set before thee. Now it is com- 
 manded that thou must taste if it were but a 
 seed of this pomegranate, or depart from 
 among us." Then, making such excuses as I 
 might, I was constrained to refuse to eat, for 
 no soul can leave a paradise wherein it has 
 tasted food. And as I spoke the walls of the 
 fair hall wherein we sat, which were painted 
 with the effigies of them that fell at Ther- 
 mopylae and in Arcadion, wavered and grew 
 dim, and darkness came upon me. 
 
 The first of my senses which returned to 
 me was that of smell, and I seemed almost
 
 AN OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 131 
 
 drowned in the spicy perfumes of Araby. 
 Then my eyes became aware of a green soft 
 fluttering, as of the leaves of a great forest, 
 but quickly I perceived that the fluttering 
 was caused by the green scarfs of a countless 
 multitude of women. They were " fine 
 women " in the popular sense of the term, 
 and were of the school of beauty admired by 
 the Faithful of Islam, and known to Mr. 
 Bailey, in "Martin Chuzzlewit," as "crumby." 
 These fond attendant nymphs carried me 
 into gardens twain, in each two gushing 
 springs, in each fruit, and palms, and pome- 
 granates. There were the blessed reclining, 
 precisely as the Prophet has declared, " on 
 beds the linings whereof are brocade, and the 
 fruit of the two gardens within reach to cull." 
 There also were the " maids of modest 
 glances," previously indifferent to the wooing 
 " of man or ginn." " Bright and large-eyed 
 maids kept in their tents, reclining on green 
 cushions and beautiful carpets. About the 
 golden couches went eternal youths with 
 goblets and ewers, and a cup of flowing wine. 
 No headache shall they feel therefrom," says 
 the compassionate Prophet, " nor shall their 
 wits be dimmed." And all that land is misty
 
 132 AV THE WRONG PARADISE.. 
 
 and fragrant with the perfume of the softest 
 Latakia, and the gardens are musical with 
 the bubbhng of countless narghiles ; and I 
 must say that to the Christian soul which 
 enters that paradise the whole place has, 
 certainly, a rather curious air, as of a highly 
 transcendental Cremorne. There could be 
 no doubt, however, that the Faithful were 
 enjoying themselves amazingly — "right lucky 
 fellows," as we read in the new translation 
 of the Koran. Yet even here all was not 
 peace and pleasantness, for I heard my 
 name called by a small voice, in a tone of 
 patient subdued querulousness. Looking 
 hastily round, I with some difficulty recog- 
 nized, in a green turban and silk gown to 
 match, my old college tutor and professor 
 of Arabic. Poor old Jones had been the best 
 and the most shy of university men. As 
 there was never any undergraduate in his 
 time (it is different now) who wished to learn 
 Arabic, his place had been a sinecure, and he 
 had chiefly devoted his leisure to " drawing " 
 pupils who were too late for college chapel. 
 The sight of a lady of his acquaintance in the 
 streets had at all times been alarming enough 
 to drive him into a shop or up a lane, and he
 
 AN OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 133 
 
 had not survived the creation of the first batch 
 of married fellows. How he had got into this 
 thoroughly wrong paradise was a mystery 
 which he made no attempt to explain. " A 
 nice place this, eh?" he said to me. "Nice 
 gardens ; remind me of Magdalene a good 
 deal. It seems, however, to be decidedly 
 rather gay just now; don't }-ou think so .^ 
 Commemoration week, perhaps. A great 
 many young ladies up, certainly ; a good deal 
 of cup drunk in the gardens too. I always did 
 prefer to go down in Commemoration week, 
 myself ; never was a dancing man. There is 
 a great deal of dancing here, but the young 
 ladies dance alone, rather like what is called 
 the ballet, I believe, at the opera. I must say 
 the young persons are a little forward ; a 
 little embarrassing it is to be alone here, 
 especially as I have forgotten a good deal of 
 my Arabic. Don't you think, my dear fellow, 
 you and I could manage to give them the slip ? 
 Run away from them, eh ? " He uttered a 
 timid little chuckle, and at that moment an 
 innumerable host of houris began a ballet 
 (Taction illustrative of a series of events in the 
 career of the Prophet. It was obvious that 
 my poor uncomplaining old friend was really
 
 134 ^y THE WRONG PARADIS£. 
 
 very miserable. The "thornless loto trees" 
 Avcre all thorny to him, and the " tal'h trees 
 with piles of fruit, the outspread shade, and 
 water outpoured " could not comfort him in 
 his really ver^' natural shyness. A happy 
 thought occurred to me. In early and credu- 
 lous youth I had studied the works of Corne- 
 lius Agrippa and Petrus de Abano. Their 
 lessons, which had not hitherto been of much 
 practical service, recurred to my mind. 
 Stooping down, I drew a circle round myself 
 and my old friend in the fragrant white 
 blossoms which were strewn so thick that they 
 quite hid the grass. This circle I fortified by 
 the usual signs employed, as Benvenuto Cellini 
 tells us, in the conjuration of evil spirits. I 
 then proceeded to utter one of the common 
 forms of exorcism. Instantly the myriad 
 houris assumed the forms of irritated demons ; 
 the smoke from the uncounted narghiles 
 burned thick and black ; the cries of the 
 frust rated ^/;/;/i", who were no better than they 
 should be, rang wildly in our ears ; the palm- 
 trees shook beneath a mighty wind ; the 
 distant summits of the minarets rocked and 
 wavered, and, with a tremendous crash, the 
 paradise of the Faithful disappeared.
 
 yl.V OCCIDENTAL APOLOGUE. 135 
 
 As I rang the bell, and requested the club- 
 waiter to carry away the smoking fragments 
 of the moderator-lamp which I had accident- 
 ally knocked over in awaking from my night- 
 mare, I reflected on the vanity of men and the 
 unsubstantial character of the future homes 
 that their fancy has fashioned. The ideal 
 heavens of modern poets and novelists, and 
 of ancient priests, come no nearer than the 
 drugged dreams of the angekok and the 
 biraark of Greenland and Queensland to that 
 rest and peace whereof it has not entered 
 into the mind of man to conceive. To the 
 wrong man each of our pictured heavens 
 would be a hell, and even to the appro- 
 priate devotee each would become a tedious 
 purgatory.
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER.
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Have you seen the Clayville Dime f' 
 
 Moore chucked me a very shabby little 
 sheet of printed matter. It fluttered feebly in 
 the warm air, and finally dropped on my re- 
 cumbent frame. I was lolling in a hammock 
 in the shade of the verandah. 
 
 I did not feel much inclined for study, but 
 I picked up the Clayville Dime and lazily 
 glanced at that periodical, while Moore re- 
 lapsed into the pages of Ixtlilxochitl. He 
 was a literary character for a planter, had 
 been educated at Oxford (where I made his 
 acquaintance), and had inherited from his 
 father, with a large collection of Indian and 
 Mexican curiosities, a taste for the ancient 
 history of the New \Vorld. 
 
 Sometimes I glanced at the newspaper ;
 
 140 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 sometimes I looked out at the pleasant 
 Southern garden, where the fountain flashed 
 and fell among weeping willows, and laurels, 
 orange-trees, and myrtles. 
 
 " Hullo ! " I cried suddenly, disturbing 
 Moore's Aztec researches, " here is a queer 
 affair in the usually quiet town of Clayville. 
 Listen to this ; " and I read aloud the follow- 
 ing "par," as I believe paragraphs are styled 
 in newspaper offices : — 
 
 ''^ Instinct and Accident. — As Colonel Ran- 
 dolph was driving through our town yesterday 
 and was passing Captain Jones's sample- 
 room, where the colonel lately shot Moses 
 Widlake in the street, the horses took alarm 
 and started violently downhill. The colonel 
 kept his seat till rounding the corner by the 
 Clayville Bank, when his wheels came into 
 collision with that edifice, and our gallant 
 townsman was violently shot out. He is now 
 lying in a very precarious condition. This 
 may relieve Tom Widlake of the duty of 
 shooting the colonel in revenge for his father. 
 It is commonly believed that Colonel Ran- 
 dolph's horses were maddened by the smell 
 of the blood which has dried up where old 
 Widlake was shot. Much sympathy is felt
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. J41 
 
 for the colonel. Neither of the horses was 
 injured.' " 
 
 " Clayville appears to be a lively kind of 
 place," I said. " Do you often have shootin<i^s 
 down here .^ " 
 
 " We do," said Moore, rather gravely ; " it 
 is one of our institutions with which I could 
 dispense." 
 
 "And do you 'carry iron,' as the Greeks 
 used to say, or 'go heeled,' as your citizens 
 express it ? " 
 
 "No, I don't; neither pistol nor knife. If 
 any one shoots me, he shoots an unarmed man. 
 The local bullies know it, and they have some 
 scruple about shooting in that case. Besides, 
 they know I am an awkward customer at 
 close quarters." 
 
 Moore relapsed into his iNIexican historian, 
 and I into the newspaper. 
 
 " Here is a chance of seeing one of your 
 institutions at last," I said. 
 
 I had found an advertisement concerning a 
 lot of negroes to be sold that very day by 
 public auction in Clayville. All this, of 
 course, was " before the war." 
 
 " Well, I suppose you ought to see it," said 
 Moore, rather reluctantly. He was gradually
 
 142 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 emancipating his own servants, as I knew, 
 and was even suspected of being a director of 
 " the Underground Raih'oad " to Canada. 
 
 " Peter," he cried, " will you be good 
 enough to saddle three horses and bring them 
 round ? " 
 
 Peter, a " darkey boy " who had been hang- 
 ing about in the garden, grinned and went off. 
 He was a queer fellow, Peter, a plantation 
 humourist, well taught in all the then unpub- 
 lished lore of " Uncle Remus." Peter had a 
 way of his own, too, with animals, and often 
 aided Moore in collecting objects of natural 
 history. 
 
 "Did you get me those hornets, Peter .!*" 
 said Moore, when the black returned with the 
 horses. 
 
 " Got 'cm safe, massa, in a little box," 
 replied Peter, who then mounted and followed 
 at a respectful distance as our squire. 
 
 Without many more words we rode into 
 the forest which lay between Clayville and 
 Moore's plantation. Through the pine bar- 
 rens ran the road, and on each side of the 
 way was luxuriance of flowering creepers. 
 The sweet faint scent of the white jessamine 
 and the homely fragrance of honeysuckle
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 143 
 
 filled the air, and the wild white roses were in 
 perfect blossom. Here and there an aloe 
 reminded me that we were not at home, and 
 dwarf palms and bayonet palmettoes, with 
 the small pointed leaf of the "live oak," com- 
 bined to make the scenery look foreign and 
 unfamiliar. There was a soft haze in the air, 
 and the sun's beams only painted, as it were, 
 the capitals of the tall pillar-like pines, while 
 the road was canopied and shaded by the 
 skeins of grey moss that hung thickly on all 
 the boughs. 
 
 The trees grew thinner as the road ap- 
 proached the town. Dusty were the ways, and 
 sultry the air, when we rode into Clayville 
 and were making for "the noisy middle 
 market-place." Clayville was but a small 
 border town, though it could then boast the 
 presence of a squadron of cavalry, sent there 
 to watch the " border ruffians." The square 
 was neither large nor crowded, but the spec- 
 tacle was strange and interesting to me. 
 Men who had horses or carts to dispose of 
 were driving or riding about, noisily proclaim- 
 ing the excellence of their wares. But buyers 
 were more concerned, like myself, with the 
 slave-market. In the open air, in the middle
 
 144 ^ CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 of the place, a long table was set. The crowd 
 gathered round this, and presented types of 
 various sorts of citizens. The common " mean 
 white " was spitting and staring — a man fallen 
 so low that he had no nigger to wallop, 
 and was thus even more abject, because he 
 had no natural place and functions in local 
 society, than the slaves themselves. The 
 local drunkard was uttering sagacities to 
 which no mortal attended. Two or three 
 speculators were bidding on commission, and 
 there were a few planters, some of them 
 mounted, and a mixed multitude of trades- 
 men, loafers, bar-keepers, newspaper reporters, 
 and idlers in general. At either end of the 
 long table sat an auctioneer, who behaved 
 with the traditional facetiousness of the pro- 
 fession. As the " lots " came on for sale they 
 mounted the platform, generally in family 
 parties. A party would fetch from one 
 thousand to fifteen hundred dollars, according 
 to its numbers and " condition." The spec- 
 tacle was painful and monstrous. Most of the 
 "lots" bore the examination of their points 
 with a kind of placid dignity, and only showed 
 some little interest when the biddings grew 
 keen and flattered their pride.
 
 A CHEAP XIGCER. 14^ 
 
 The sale was almost over, and we were just 
 about to leave, when a howl of derision from 
 the mob made us look round. What / saw- 
 was the apparition of an extremely aged and 
 debilitated black man standing on the table. 
 What Moore saw to interest him I could not 
 guess, but he grew pale and uttered an oath of 
 surprise under his breath, though he rarely 
 swore. Then he turned his horse's head again 
 towards the auctioneer. That merry trades- 
 man was extolling tiie merits of nearly his 
 last lot. "A very remarkable specimen, 
 gentlemen ! Admirers of the antique cannot 
 dispense with this curious nigger — very old 
 and quite imperfect. Like so many of the 
 treasures of Greek art which have reached 
 us, he has had the misfortune to lose his 
 nose and several of his fingers. How much 
 offered for this exceptional lot — unmarried and 
 without encumbrances of any kind ? He is 
 dumb too, and may be trusted with an\' 
 secret." 
 
 "Take him off!" howled some one in the 
 crowd. 
 
 " Order his funeral ! " 
 
 " Chuck him into the next lot." 
 
 "What, gentlemen, no bids for this very
 
 146 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 eligible nigger ? With a few more rags he 
 ^vould make a most adequate scarecrow." 
 
 While this disgusting banter was going on 
 I observed a planter ride up to one of the 
 brokers and whisper for some time in his ear. 
 The planter was a bad but unmistakable like- 
 ness of my friend Moore, worked over, so to 
 speak, with a loaded brush and heavily glazed 
 Avith old Bourbon whisky. After giving his 
 orders to the agent he retired to the outskirts 
 of the crowd, and began flicking his long 
 dusty boots with a serviceable cowhide whip. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, we must really adopt 
 the friendly suggestion of Judge Lee and 
 chuck this nigger into the next lot." 
 
 So the auctioneer was saying, when the 
 broker to whom I have referred cried out, 
 " Ten dollars." 
 
 " This is more like business," cried the 
 auctioneer. " Ten dollars offered ! What 
 amateur says more than ten dollars for this 
 lot? His extreme age and historical remi- 
 niscences alone, if he could communicate them, 
 would make him invaluable to the student." 
 
 To my intense amazement Moore shouted 
 from horseback, " Twenty dollars." 
 
 " \\[\\3.\., you want a cheap nigger to get your
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 147 
 
 hand in, do you, you blank-blanked aboli- 
 tionist ? " cried a man who stood near. He 
 was a big, dirty-looking bully, at least half 
 drunk, and attending (not unnecessarily) to 
 his toilet with the point of a long, heavy knife. 
 
 Before the words were out of his mouth 
 Moore had leaped from his horse and delivered 
 such a right-handed blow as that wherewith 
 the wandering beggar-man smote Irus of old 
 in the courtyard of Odysseus, Laertes' son. 
 " On his neck, beneath the ear, he smote him, 
 and crushed in the bones ; and the red blood 
 gushed up through his mouth, and he gnashed 
 his teeth together as he kicked the ground." 
 Moore stooped, picked up the bowie-knife, 
 and sent it glittering high through the air. 
 
 "Take him away," he said, and two rough 
 fellows, laughing, carried the bully to the edge 
 of the fountain that played in the corner of 
 the square. He was still lying crumpled up 
 there when we rode out of Clayville. 
 
 The bidding, of course, had stopped, owing 
 to the unaffected interest wdiich the public 
 took in this more dramatic interlude. The 
 broker, it is true, had bid twenty-five dollars, 
 and was wrangling with the auctioneer. 
 
 "You have my bid, Mr. Brinton, sir, and
 
 148 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 there is no otlicr ofifer. Knock down the lot 
 to me." 
 
 "You wait your time, Mr. Isaacs," said the 
 auctioneer. " No man can do two things at 
 once and do them well. When Squire Moore 
 has settled with Dick Bligh he will desert 
 the paths of military adventure for the calmer 
 and more lucrative track of commercial 
 enterprise." 
 
 . The auctioneer's command of long words 
 was considerable, and was obviously of use 
 to him in his daily avocations. 
 
 When he had rounded his period, Moore 
 was in the saddle again, and nodded silently 
 to the auctioneer. 
 
 " Squire Moore bids thirty dollars. Thirty 
 dollars for this once despised but now ap- 
 preciated fellow-creature," rattled on the 
 auctioneer. 
 
 The agent nodded again. 
 
 " Forty dollars bid," said the auctioneer. 
 
 " Fifty," cried Moore. 
 
 The broker nodded. 
 
 " Sixty." 
 
 The agent nodded again. 
 
 The bidding ran rapidly up to three hundred 
 and fifty dollars.
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. I49 
 
 The crowd were growing excited, and had 
 been joined by every child in the town, by 
 every draggled and sunburnt woman, and 
 the drinking-bar had disgorged every loafer 
 who felt sober enough to stay the distance 
 to the centre of the square. 
 
 My own first feelings of curiosity had 
 subsided. I knew how strong and burning 
 was Moore's hatred of oppression, and felt 
 convinced that he merely wished at any 
 sacrifice of money to secure for this old negro 
 some peaceful days and a quiet deathbed. 
 
 The crowd doubtless took the same obvious 
 view of the case as I did, and was now eagerly 
 urging on the two competitors. 
 
 "Never say die, Isaacs." 
 
 " Stick to it, Squire ; the nigger's well worth 
 the dollars." 
 
 So they howled, and now the biddings were 
 mounting towards one thousand dollars, when 
 the sulky planter rode up to the neighbourhood 
 of the table — much to the inconvenience of 
 the " gallery " — and whispered to his agent. 
 The conference lasted some minutes, and at 
 the end of it the agent capped Moore's last 
 offer, one thousand dollars, with a bid of one 
 thousand two hundred.
 
 150 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 " Fifteen hundred," said Moore, amidst 
 applause. 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Knock-'em-down," cried 
 Mr. Isaacs: "it's hot and thirsty work sitting, 
 nodding here ; I Hkes my case on a warm 
 day ; so just you reckon that I see the Squire, 
 and go a hundred dollars more as long as I 
 hold up my pencil." 
 
 He stuck a long gnawed pencil erect 
 between his finger and thumb, and stared 
 impertinently at Moore. The Squire nodded, 
 and the bidding went on in this silent fashion 
 till the bids had actually run up to three 
 thousand four hundred dollars. All this while 
 the poor negro, whose limbs no longer sup- 
 ported him, crouched in a heap on the table, 
 turning his haggard eye alternately on Moore 
 and on the erect and motionless pencil of the 
 broker. The crowd had become silent with 
 excitement. Unable to stand the heat and 
 agitation, Moore's unfriendly brother had 
 crossed the square in search of a "short 
 drink." Moore nodded once more. 
 
 "Three thousand six hundred dollars bid," 
 cried the auctioneer, and looked at Isaacs. 
 
 With a wild howl Isaacs dashed his pencil 
 in the air, tossed up his hands, and thrust
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 151 
 
 them deep down between his coat collar and 
 his body, uttering all the while yells of pain. 
 
 "Don't you bid, Mr. Isaacs.-"' asked the 
 auctioneer, without receiving any answer 
 except Semitic appeals to holy Abraham, 
 blended with Aryan profanity. 
 
 "Come," said Moore very severely, "his 
 pencil is down, and he has withdrawn his bid. 
 There is no other bidder ; knock the lot down 
 to me." 
 
 "No more offers?" said the auctioneer 
 slowly, looking all round the square. 
 
 There were certainly no offers from Mr. 
 Isaacs, who now was bounding like the gad- 
 stung lo to the furthest end of the place. 
 
 " This fine buck-negro, warranted absolutely 
 unsound of wind and limb, going, going, a 
 shameful sacrifice, for a poor three thousand 
 six hundred dollars. Going, going — gone ! " 
 
 The hammer fell with a sharp, decisive 
 sound. 
 
 A fearful volley of oaths rattled after the 
 noise, like thunder rolling away in the 
 distance. 
 
 Moore's brother had returned from achieving 
 a " short drink " just in time to see his coveted 
 lot knocked down to his rival.
 
 152 A CHEAP XIGGER. 
 
 \Vc left the spot, with the negro in the care 
 of Peter, as quickh' as might be. 
 
 " I wonder," said Moore, as we reached the 
 inn and ordered a trap to carry our valuable 
 bargain home in — " I wonder what on earth 
 made Isaacs run off like a maniac." 
 
 " Massa," whispered Peter, " yesterday I jes' 
 caught yer Brer Hornet a-loafin' around in 
 the wood. ' Come wi' me,' says I, ' and bottled 
 him in this yer pasteboard box,' " showing one 
 •which had held Turkish tobacco. " When I 
 saw that Hebrew Jew wouldn't stir his pencil, 
 I jes' crept up softly and dropped Brer Hor- 
 net down his neck. Then he jes' rose and 
 went. Spec's he and Brer Hornet had busi- 
 ness of their own." 
 
 " Peter," said Moore, " you are a good boy, 
 but you will come to a bad end." 
 
 II. 
 
 As we rode slowly homeward, behind the 
 trap which conveyed the dear-bought slave, 
 Moore was extremely moody and disinclined 
 for conversation. 
 
 " Is your purchase not rather an expensive 
 one ? " I ventured to ask, to which Moore 
 replied shortly —
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 153 
 
 " No ; think he is perhaps the cheapest 
 nigger that was ever bought." 
 
 To put any more questions would have 
 been impertinent, and I possessed my curi- 
 osity in silence till we reached the plantation. 
 
 Here Moore's conduct became decidedly 
 eccentric. He had the black man conveyed 
 at once into a cool, dark, strong room with a 
 heavy iron door, where the new acquisition 
 was locked up in company with a sufficient 
 meal. Moore and I dined hastily, and then 
 he summoned all his negroes together into 
 the court of the house. " Look here, boys," 
 he cried : " all these trees " — and he pointed 
 to several clumps — " must come down imme- 
 diately, and all the shrubs on the lawn and in 
 the garden. Fall to at once, those of you that 
 have axes, and let the rest take hoes and 
 knives and make a clean sweep of the shrubs." 
 The idea of wholesale destruction seemed not 
 disagreeable to the slaves, who went at their 
 work with eagerness, though it made my 
 heart ache to see the fine old oaks beginning 
 to fall and to watch the green garden be- 
 coming a desert. Moore first busied himself 
 with directing the women, who, under his 
 orders, piled up mattresses and bags of cotton
 
 154 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 against the parapets of the verandahs. The 
 house stood on the summit of a gradually 
 sloping height, and before the moon began 
 to set (for we worked without intermission 
 through the evening and far into the night) 
 there was nothing but a bare slope of grass 
 all round the place, while smoke and flame 
 went up from the piles of fallen timber. The 
 plantation, in fact, was ready to stand a short 
 siege. 
 
 Moore now produced a number of rifles, 
 which he put, with ammunition, into the 
 hands of some of the more stalwart negroes. 
 These he sent to their cabins, which lay at a 
 distance of about a furlong and a half on 
 various sides of the house. The men had 
 orders to fire on any advancing enemy, and 
 then to fall back at once on the main building-, 
 which was now barricaded and fortified. One 
 lad was told to lurk in a thicket below the 
 slope of the hill and invisible from the house. 
 
 "If Wild Bill's men come on, and you 
 give them the slip, cry thrice like the ' Bob 
 White,' " said Moore ; " if they take you, cry 
 once. If you get off", run straight to Clayville, 
 and give this note to the officer commanding 
 the cavalry."
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 155 
 
 The hour was now about one in the morn- 
 ing ; by three the dawn would begin. In 
 spite of his fatigues, Moore had no idea of 
 snatching an hour's rest, lie called up Peter 
 (who had been sleeping, coiled up like a black 
 cat, in the smoking-room), and bade him take 
 a bath and hot water into the room where 
 Gumbo, the newly purchased black, had all 
 this time been left to his own reflections. 
 "Soap him and lather him well, Peter," said 
 Moore; "wash him white, if }-ou can, and let 
 me know when he's fit to come near." 
 
 Peter withdrew with his stereotyped grin to 
 make his preparations. 
 
 Presently, through the open door of the 
 smoking-room, we heard the sounds of ener- 
 getic splashings, m.ingled with the inarticulate 
 groans of the miserable Gumbo. Moore could 
 not sit still, but kept pacing the room, smoking 
 fiercely. Presently Peter came to the door — 
 
 " Nigger's clean now, massa." 
 
 ''Bring me a j-azor, theti," said Moore, "and 
 
 leave me alone ivith him." 
 
 ***** 
 
 When Moore had retired, with the razor, 
 into the chamber where his purchase lay, I 
 had time to reflect on the singularity of the
 
 156 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 situation. In every room loaded rifles were 
 ready ; all the windows were cunningly bar- 
 ricaded, and had sufficient loopholes. The 
 peaceful planter's house had become a castle ; 
 a dreadful quiet had succeeded to the hubbub 
 of preparation, and my host, yesterday so 
 pleasant, was now locked up alone with a 
 dumb negro and a razor! I had lonsf asfo 
 given up the hypothesis that Gumbo had been 
 purchased out of pure philanthropy. The 
 disappointment of baffled cruelty in Moore's 
 brother would not alone account for the neces- 
 sity of such defensive preparations as had just 
 been made. Clearly Gumbo was not a mere 
 fancy article, but a negro of real value, whose 
 person it was desirable to obtain possession of 
 at any risk or cost. The ghastly idea occurred 
 to me (suggested, I fancy, by Moore's demand 
 for a razor) that Gumbo, at some period of 
 his career, must have swallowed a priceless 
 diamond. This gem must still be concealed 
 about his person, and Moore must have deter- 
 mined by foul means, as no fair means were 
 available, to become its owner. When this 
 fancy struck me I began to feel that it was 
 my duty to interfere. I could not sit by 
 within call (had poor Gumbo been capable of
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 1^7 
 
 callin<^) and allow my friend to commit such 
 a deed of cruelty. As I thus parleyed with 
 myself, the heavy iron door of the store-room 
 opened, and Moore came out, with the razor 
 (bloodless, thank Heaven !) in his hand. 
 Anxiety had given place to a more joyous 
 excitement, 
 
 "Well.''" I said interrogatively. 
 
 "Well, all's well. That man has, as I felt 
 sure, the Secret of the Pyramid." 
 
 I now became quite certain that Moore, 
 in spite of all his apparent method, had gone 
 out of his mind. It seemed best to humour 
 him, especially as so many loaded rifles were 
 lying about. 
 
 "lie has seen the myst'ry hid 
 Under Egypt's pyramid," 
 
 I quoted ; " but, my dear fellow, as the negro 
 is dumb, I don't see how you are to get the 
 secret out of him." 
 
 " I did not say he k)iciv it," answered Moore 
 crossly ; " I said he had it. As to Egypt, I 
 don't know what you are talking about " 
 
 At this moment we heard the crack of rifles, 
 and in the instant of silence which followed 
 came the note of the " Bob White." 
 
 Once it shrilled, and we listened eagerly ;
 
 158 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 then the notes came twice rapidly, and a 
 sound of voices rose up from the negro out- 
 posts, who had been driven in and were 
 making fast the one door of the house that 
 had been left open. From the negroes we 
 learned that our assailants (Bill Hicock's band 
 of border ruffians, " specially engaged for this 
 occasion ") had picketed their horses behind 
 the dip of the hill and were advancing on foot. 
 Moore hurried to the roof to reconnoitre. The 
 dawn was stealing on, and the smoke from the 
 still smouldering trees, which we had felled 
 and burned, rose through the twilight air. 
 
 " Moore, you hound," cried a voice through 
 the smoke of the furthest pile, " we have come 
 for your new nigger. Will you give him up 
 or will you fight ? " 
 
 Moore's only reply was a bullet fired in the 
 direction whence the voice was heard. His 
 shot was answered by a perfect volley from 
 men who could just be discerned creeping 
 through the grass about four hundred yards 
 nut. The bullets rattled harmlessly against 
 wooden walls and iron shutters, or came with 
 a thud against the mattress fortifications of 
 the verandah. The firing was all directed 
 against the front of the house.
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 159 
 
 " I see their game," said Moore. " The 
 front attack is only a feint. When they think 
 we are all busy here, another detachment will 
 try to rush the place from the back and to 
 set fire to the building. We'll 'give them 
 their kail through the reek.' " 
 
 Moore's dispositions were quickly made. 
 He left me with some ten of the blacks to 
 keep up as heavy a fire as possible from the 
 roof against the advancing skirmishers. He 
 posted himself, with six fellows on whom he 
 could depend, in a room of one of the wings 
 which commanded the back entrance. As 
 many men, with plenty of ready-loaded rifles, 
 were told off to a room in the opposite wing. 
 Both parties were thus in a position to rake 
 the entrance with a cross fire. Moore gave 
 orders that not a trigger should be pulled 
 till the still invisible assailants had arrived 
 on his side, between the two projecting wings. 
 "Then fire into them, and let every one choose 
 his man." 
 
 On the roof our business was simple enough. 
 We lay behind bags of cotton, firing as rapidly 
 and making as much show of force as possible, 
 while women kept loading for us. Our posi- 
 tion was extremely strong, as we were quite
 
 i6o A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 invisible to men crouching or running hurriedly 
 far below. Our practice was not particularly- 
 good ; still three or four of the skirmishers 
 had ceased to advance, and this naturally 
 discouraged the others, who were aware, of 
 course, that their movement was only a feint. 
 The siege had now lasted about half an hour, 
 and I had begun to fancy that Moore's theory 
 of the attack was a mistake, and that he had 
 credited the enemy with more generalship 
 than they possessed, when a perfect storm of 
 fire broke out beneath us, fi'om the rooms 
 where Moore and his company were posted. 
 Dangerous as it was to cease for a moment 
 from watching the enemy, I stole across the 
 roof, and, looking down between two of the 
 cotton bags which filled the open spaces of 
 the balustrades, I saw the narrow ground 
 between the two wings simply strewn with 
 dead or wounded men. The cross fire still 
 poured from the windows, though here and 
 there a marksman tried to pick off the 
 fugitives. Rapidly did I cross the roof to my 
 post. To my horror the skirmishers had 
 advanced, as if at the signal of the firing, and 
 were now running up at full speed and close 
 to the walls of the house. At that moment
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER, l6l 
 
 the door opened, and Moore, heading a 
 number of negroes, picked off the leading 
 ruffian and rushed out into the open. The 
 other assailants fired hurriedly and without 
 aim, then — daunted by the attack so suddenly 
 carried into their midst, and by the appear- 
 ance of one or two of their own beaten com- 
 rades — the enemy turned and fairly bolted. 
 We did not pursue. Far away down the road 
 we heard the clatter of hoofs, and thin and 
 clear came the thrice-repeated cry of the 
 " Bob White." 
 
 "Dick's coming back with the soldiers," 
 said Moore ; " and now I think wc may look 
 after the wounded." 
 
 ***** 
 
 I did not see much of Moore that day. 
 The fact is that I slept a good deal, and 
 Moore was mysteriously engaged with Gumbo. 
 Night came, and very much needed quiet and 
 sleep came with it. Then we passed an 
 indolent day, and I presumed that adven- 
 tures were over, and that on the subject of 
 "the Secret of the Pyramid" Moore had re- 
 covered his sanity. I was just taking my 
 bedroom candle when Moore said, " Don't go 
 to bed yet. You will come with me, won't 
 
 M
 
 i62 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 you, and see out the adventure of the Cheap 
 Nigger ? " 
 
 " You don't mean to say the story is to be 
 continued ? " I asked. 
 
 " Continued ? Why the fun is only begin- 
 ning," Moore answered, " The night is cloudy, 
 and will just suit us. Come down to the 
 branch." 
 
 The "branch," as Moore called it, was a 
 strong stream that separated, as I knew, his 
 lands from his brother's. We walked down 
 slowly, and reached the broad boat which w^as 
 dragged over by a chain when any one wanted 
 to cross. At the "scow," as the ferry-boat 
 was called, Peter joined us ; he ferried us 
 deftly over the deep and rapid water, and 
 then led on, as rapidly as if it had been day- 
 light, along a path through the pines. 
 
 " How often I came here when I was a 
 boy," said Moore ; " but now I might lose 
 myself in the wood, for this is my brother's 
 land, and I have forgotten the way." 
 
 As I knew that Mr. Bob Moore was con- 
 fined to his room by an accident, through 
 which an ounce of lead had been lodged in a 
 portion of his frame, I had no fear of being 
 arrested for trespass. Presently the negro 
 stopped in front of a cliff.
 
 J CHEAP NIGGER. 163 
 
 " Here is the ' Sachem's Cave,' " said Moore. 
 "You'll help us to explore the cave, won't 
 you ? '* 
 
 I did not think the occasion an opportune 
 one for exploring caves, but to have withdrawn 
 Would have demanded a " moral courage," 
 as people commonly say when they mean 
 cowardice, which I did not possess. We 
 stepped within a narrow crevice of the great 
 cliff. Moore lit a lantern and went in advance; 
 the negro followed with a flaring torch. 
 
 Suddenly an idea occurred to me, which I 
 felt bound to communicate to Moore. *' My 
 dear fellow," I said in a whisper, " is this quite 
 sportsmanlike.^ You know you are after 
 some treasure, real or imaginary, and, I put it 
 to you as a candid friend, is not this just a 
 little bit like poaching ? Your brother's land, 
 you know." 
 
 "What 1 am looking" for is in my own 
 land," said Moore. " The river is the march. 
 Come on." 
 
 We went on, now advancing among fairy 
 halls, glistering with stalactites or paved with 
 silver sand, and finally pushing our way 
 through a concealed crevice down dank and 
 narrow passages in the rock. The darkness
 
 1 64 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 increased ; the pavement plashed beneath our 
 feet, and the drip, drip of water was incessant. 
 "We are under the river-bed," said Moore, "in 
 a kind of natural Thames Tunnel." We made 
 what speed we might through this combina- 
 tion of the Valley of the Shadow with the 
 Slough of Despond, and soon were on firmer 
 ground again beneath Moore's own territory 
 Probably no other white men had ever crawled 
 through the hidden passage and gained the 
 further penetralia of the cave, which now 
 again began to narrow. Finally we reached 
 four tall pillars, of about ten feet in height, 
 closely surrounded by the walls of rock. As 
 we approached these pillars, that were dimly 
 discerned by the torchlight, our feet made a 
 faint metallic jingling sound among heaps of 
 ashes which strewed the floor. Moore and I 
 went up to the pillars and tried them with 
 our knives. They were of wood, all soaked 
 and green with the eternal damp. " Peter," 
 said Moore, " go in with the lantern and try if 
 you can find anything there." 
 
 Peter had none of the superstitions of his 
 race, or he would never have been our com- 
 panion. " All right, massa ; me look for Brer 
 Spook."
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 165 
 
 So saying, Peter walked into a kind of 
 roofed over-room, open only at the front, and 
 examined the floor with his lantern, stamping 
 occasionally to detect any hollowness in the 
 ground. 
 
 "Nothing here, massa, but this dead fellow's 
 leg-bone and little bits of broken jugs," and 
 the dauntless Peter came out with his ghastly 
 trophy. 
 
 Moore seemed not to lose heart. 
 
 *' Perhaps," he said, "there is something on 
 the roof. Peter, give me a back." 
 
 Peter stooped down beside one of the 
 wooden pillars and firmly grasped his own 
 legs above the knee. Moore climbed on the 
 improvised ladder, and was just able to seize 
 the edge of the roof, as it seemed to be, with 
 his hands. 
 
 " Now steady, Peter," he exclaimed, and 
 with a spring he drew himself up till his head 
 was above the level of the roof. Then he 
 uttered a cry, and, leaping from Peter's back 
 retreated to the level where we stood in some 
 confusion. 
 
 " Good God ! " he said, " what a sight ! " 
 " What on earth is the matter ? " I asked. 
 "Look for yourself, if you choose," said
 
 l66 A CHEAP .VIGGER. 
 
 Moore, who was somewhat shaken, and at the 
 same time irritated and ashamed. 
 
 Grasping the lantern, I managed to get on 
 to Peter's shoulders, and by a considerable 
 gymnastic effort to raise my head to the level 
 of the ledge, and at the same time to cast the 
 light up and within. 
 
 The spectacle was sufficiently awful. 
 
 I was looking along a platform, on which 
 ten skeletons were disposed at full length, 
 with the skulls still covered with long hair, 
 and the fleshless limbs glimmering white and 
 stretching back into the darkness. 
 
 On the right hand, and crouching between 
 a skeleton and the wall of the chamber (what 
 we had taken for a roof was the floor of a 
 room raised on pillars), I saw the form of a 
 man. He was dressed in gay colours, and, as 
 he sat with his legs drawn up, his arms rested 
 on his knees. 
 
 On the first beholding of a dreadful thing, 
 our instinct forces us to rush against it, as if 
 to bring the horror to the test of touch. This 
 instinct wakened in me. For a moment I felt 
 dazed, and then I continued to stare involun- 
 tarily at the watcher of the dead. He had 
 not stirred. My eyes became accustomed to
 
 A CHE/iP NIGGER. 167 
 
 the dim and flickering light which the lantern 
 cast in that dark place. 
 
 " Hold on, Peter," I cried, and leaped down 
 to the floor of the cave. 
 
 " It's all right, Moore," I said. " Don't you 
 remember the picture in old Lafitau's 'Moeurs 
 des Sauvages Americains'? W^e are in a 
 burying-placc of the Cherouines, and the 
 seated man is only the kjnvas/i, ' which is an 
 image of woode keeping the deade,' " 
 
 " Ass that I am ! " cried Moore. " I knew 
 the cave led us from the Sachem's Cave to 
 the Sachem's Mound, and I forgot for a 
 moment how the fellows disposed of their 
 dead. We must search the platform. Peter, 
 make a ladder again." 
 
 Moore mounted nimbly enough this time. 
 I followed him. 
 
 The kywasJi had no more terrors for us, 
 and we penetrated beyond the fleshless dead 
 into the further extremity of the sepulchre. 
 Here w^e lifted and removed vast piles of 
 deerskin bags, and of mats, filled as they 
 were with "the dreadful dust that once was 
 man." As we reached the bottom of the first 
 pile, something glittered yellow and bright 
 beneath the lantern.
 
 i6S A CITEAF XIGGES. 
 
 Moore stooped and tried to lift what looked 
 like an enormous plate. He was unable to 
 raise the object, still weighed do^vn as it was 
 with the crhastlv remnants of the dead. With 
 feverish haste we cleared away the dt'bris, and 
 at last lifted and brought to light a huge and 
 massive disk of gold, diNided into rays which 
 spread from the centre, each division being 
 adorned wnth strange" figures in relief — figures 
 of animals, plants, and what looked Hke rude 
 hieroglyphs. 
 
 This w^as only the firstfruits of the treasure. 
 
 A silver disk, still larger, and decorated in 
 the same' manner, was next uncovered, and 
 last, in a hollow- dug in the flooring of the 
 sepulchre, we came on a great number of 
 objects in gold and silver, which somewhat 
 reminded us of Indian idols. These were 
 thickly crusted with precious stones, and were 
 accompanied by many of the sacred emeralds 
 and opals of old American religion. There 
 were also some extraordinary^ manuscripts, if 
 the term may be applied to picture \\Titing on 
 prepared deerskins that were now decaj-ing. 
 We paid little attention to cloaks of the 
 famous feather- work, now a lost art, of which 
 one or two examples are found in European
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. ifp 
 
 museums. The gold, and silver, and precious 
 stones, as may be imagined, overcame for the 
 moment any ethnological curiosity, 
 
 • * • • • 
 
 Dawn was growing into day before we 
 reached the mouth of the cave again, and 
 after a series of journeys brought all our spoil 
 to the light of the upper air. It was quickly 
 enough bestowed in bags and baskets. Then 
 aided by three of Moore's stoutest hands, 
 whom we found waiting for us in the pine 
 wood, we carried the whole treasure back, 
 and lodged it in the strong room which had 
 been the retreat of Gumbo. 
 
 III. 
 
 The conclusion of my story shall be very 
 short. What was the connection between 
 Gumbo and the spoils of the Sachem's 
 Mound, and how did the treasures of the 
 Aztec Temple of the Sun come to be con- 
 cealed in the burial place of the Red Man ? 
 All this Moore explained to me the day after 
 we secured the treasures. 
 
 "My father," said Moore, "was, as you 
 know, a great antiquarian, and a great collec-
 
 I70 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 tor of Mexican and native relics. He had 
 given almost as much time as Brasscur de 
 Bourbourg to Mexican hieroglyphics, and 
 naturally had made nothing out of them. 
 His chief desire was to discover the Secret of 
 the Pyramid — not the pyramids of Egypt, as 
 you fancied, but the Pyramid of the Sun, 
 Tonatiuh, at Teohuacan. To the problem 
 connected with this mysterious structure, 
 infinitely older than the empire of Montezuma, 
 which Cortes destroyed, he fancied he had a 
 clue in this scroll." 
 
 Moore handed me a prepared sheet of 
 birch bark, like those which the red men use 
 for their rude picture writings. It was very 
 old, but the painted characters were still 
 brilliant, and even a tyro could see that they 
 were not Indian, but of the ancient Mexican 
 description. In the upper left-hand corner 
 was painted a pyramidal structure, above 
 which the sun beamed. Eight men, over 
 whose heads the moon was dra^\^n, were 
 issuing from the pyramid ; the two foremost 
 bore in their hands effigies of the sun and 
 moon ; each of the others seemed to carry 
 smaller objects with a certain religious awe. 
 Then came a singular chart, which one might
 
 A CITE AT NIGGER. 171 
 
 conjecture represented the wanderings of 
 these men, bearing the sacred things of their 
 gods. In the lowest corner of the scroll they 
 were being received by human beings dressed 
 unlike themselves, with head coverings of 
 feathers and carrying bows in their hands. 
 
 " This scroll," Moore went on, " my father 
 bought from one of the last of the red men 
 who lingered on here, a prey to debt and 
 whisky. My father always associated the 
 drawings with the treasures of Teohuacan, 
 Avhich, according to him, must have been 
 withdrawn from the pj-ramid, and conveyed 
 secretly to the north, the direction from 
 which the old Toltec pyramid builders origi- 
 nally came. In the north they would find no 
 civilized people like themselves, he said, but 
 only the Indians. Probably, however, the 
 Indians would receive \\ith respect the bearers 
 of mysterious images and rites, and my 
 father concluded that the sacred treasures of 
 the Sun might still be concealed among some 
 wandering tribe of red men. He had come 
 to this conclusion for some time, when I and 
 my brother returned from school, hastily 
 summoned back, to find him extremely ill. 
 He had suffered from a paralytic stroke, and
 
 173 A CHEAP NIGGER. 
 
 he scarcely recognized us. But we made out, 
 partly from his broken and wandering words, 
 partly from old Tom (Peter's father, now 
 dead), that my father's illness had followed 
 on a violent fit of passion. He had picked 
 up, it seems, from some Indians a scroll 
 which he considered of the utmost value, 
 and which he placed in a shelf of the library. 
 Now, old Gumbo was a house-servant at that 
 time, and, dumb as he was, and stupid as he 
 was, my father had treated him with peculiar 
 kindness. Unluckily Gumbo yielded to the 
 favourite illusion of all servants, white and 
 black, male and female, that anything they 
 find in the library may be used to light a fire 
 with. One chilly day Gumbo lighted the 
 fire with the newly purchased Indian birch 
 scroll. My father, when he heard of this 
 performance, lost all self-command. In his 
 ordinary temper the most humane of men, 
 he simply raged at Gumbo. He would teach 
 him, he said, to destroy his papers. And it 
 appeared, from what we could piece together 
 (for old Tom was very reticent and my father 
 very incoherent), that he actually branded or 
 tattooed a copy of what Gumbo had burnt 
 on the nigger's body ! "
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 173 
 
 "But," I interrupted, "your father knew all 
 the scroll had to tell him, else he could not 
 have copied it on Gumbo. So why was he 
 in such a rage ? " 
 
 " You," said Moore, with some indignation, 
 "arc not a collector, and you can't under- 
 stand a collector's feelings. My father knew 
 the contents of the scroll, but what of that ? 
 The scroll was the first edition, the real 
 original, and Gumbo had destroyed it. Job 
 would have lost his temper if Job had been 
 a collector. Let me go on. My brother and 
 I both conjectured that the scroll had some 
 connection with the famous riches of the Sun 
 and the secret of the Pyramid of Teohuacan. 
 Probably, wc thought, it had contained a chart 
 (now transferred to Gumbo's frame) of the 
 hiding-place of the treasure. However, in 
 the confusion caused by my father's illness, 
 death, and burial, Gumbo escaped, and, being 
 an unusually stupid nigger, he escaped due 
 south-west. Here he seems to have fallen 
 into the hands of some slave-holding Indians, 
 who used him even worse than any white 
 owners would have done, and left him the 
 mere fragment you saw. He filtered back 
 here through the exchange of commerce,
 
 174 A CHEAP NIGGER, 
 
 ' the higgling of the market,' and as soon as 
 I recognized him at the sale I made up my 
 mind to purchase him. So did my brother ; 
 but, thanks to Peter and his hornets, I became 
 Gumbo's owner. On examining him, after 
 he was well washed on the night of the attack, 
 I found this chart, as you may call it, branded 
 on Gumbo's back," Here Moore made a rapid 
 tracing on a sheet of paper. " I concluded 
 that the letters S M (introduced by my father, 
 of course, as the Indian scroll must have been 
 ' before letters ') referred to the Sachem's 
 Mound, which is in my land ; that the Sun 
 above referred to the treasures of the Sun, that 
 S C stood for the Sachem's Cave, and that the 
 cave led, under the river, within the mound. 
 We might have opened the mound by 
 diereine on our own land, but it would have 
 been a long job, and must have attracted 
 curiosity and brought us into trouble. So, 
 you see, the chart Gumbo destroyed was 
 imprinted by my father on his black back, 
 and though he Avieiu nothing of the secret he 
 distinctly /urd it." 
 
 "Yes," said I, "but why did you ask for 
 a razor when you were left alone with Gumbo?" 
 
 "Why," said Moore, "I knew Gumbo was
 
 A CHEAP NIGGER. 175 
 
 marked somewhere and somehow, but the 
 place and manner I didn't know. And my 
 father might have remembered the dodj^c 
 of Histiieus in Herodotus : he might liavc 
 shaved Gumbo's head, tattooed the chart on 
 that, and then allowed the natural covering 
 to hide the secret 'on the place where the 
 wool ought to grow.' "
 
 THE ROMANCE OF TUll 
 FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 N
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE 
 FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 A PREHISTORIC APOLOGUE. 
 
 '' Titius, Le premier qui supprime un abus, commc on 
 dit, est toujours victime du service qu'il rend. 
 
 Un Homme du Pctiple. C'est de sa faute ! Pourquoi se 
 mele t'il de ce qui ne le regarde pas." — Le Pretre de Nemi, 
 
 The Devil, according to Dr. Johnson and 
 other authorities, was the first Whig. History 
 tells us less about the first Radical — the first 
 man who rebelled against the despotism of 
 unintelligible customs, who asserted the rights 
 of the individual against the claims of the 
 tribal conscience, and who was eager to see 
 society organized, off-hand, on what he 
 thought a rational method. In the absence 
 of history, we must fall back on that branch 
 of hypothetics which is known as prehistoric
 
 i8o THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 science. We must reconstruct the Romance 
 of the First Radical from the hints suppHed 
 by geology, and by the study of Radicals at 
 large, and of contemporary savages among 
 whom no Radical reformer has yet appeared. 
 In the following little apologue no trait of 
 manners is invented. 
 
 The characters of our romance lived shortly 
 after the close of the last glacial epoch in 
 Europe, when the ice had partly withdrawn 
 from the face of the world, and when land and 
 sea had almost assumed their modern propor- 
 tions. At this period Europe was inhabited 
 by scattered bands of human creatures, who 
 roamed about its surface much as the black 
 fellows used to roam over the Australian con- 
 tinent. The various groups derived their 
 names from various animals and other natural 
 objects, such as the sun, the cabbage, serpents, 
 sardines, crabs, leopards, bears, and hyaenas. 
 It is important for our purpose to remember 
 that all the children took their family name 
 from the mother's side. If she were of the 
 Hyaena clan, the children were Hyaenas. If 
 the mother were tattooed with the badge of the 
 Serpent, the children were Serpents, and so 
 on. No two persons of the same family name
 
 A PREHISTORIC APOLOGUE. i8i 
 
 and crest niiL;iit many, on pain of death. 
 The man of the Bear family who dwelt by 
 the Mediterranean might not ally himself 
 with a woman of the Bear clan \\hose home 
 was on the shores of the Baltic, and who was 
 in no way related to him by consanguinity. 
 These details are dr}', but absolutely necessary 
 to the comprehension of the First Radical's 
 stormy and melancholy career. \Vc must 
 also remember that, among the tribes, there 
 was no fixed or monarchical government. 
 The little democratic groups were much in- 
 fluenced by the medicine-men or wizards, who 
 combined the functions of the modern clergy 
 and of the medical profession. The old men, 
 too, had some power ; the braves, or warriors, 
 constituted a turbulent oligarchy ; the noisy 
 outcries of the old women corresponded to 
 the utterances of an intelligent daily press. 
 But the real ruler was a body of strange and 
 despotic customs, the nature of which will 
 become apparent as we follow the fortunes of 
 the First Radical.
 
 i82 THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 THE YOUTH OF WHY-WHY. 
 
 Why-Why, as our hero was commonly 
 called in the tribe, was born, long before Ro- 
 mulus built his wall, in a cave which may still 
 be observed in the neighbourhood of Mentone. 
 On the warm shores of the Mediterranean, 
 protected from winds by a wall of rock, the 
 group of which Why- Why was the offspring 
 had attained conditions of comparative com- 
 fort. The remains of their dinners, many 
 feet deep, still constitute the flooring of the 
 cave, and the tourist, as he pokes the soil with 
 the point of his umbrella, turns up bits of 
 bone, shreds of chipped flint, and other inte- 
 resting relics. In the big cave lived several 
 little families, all named by the names of their 
 mothers. These ladies had been knocked on 
 the head and dragged home, according to the 
 marriage customs of the period, from places 
 as distant as the modern Marseilles and Genoa. 
 Why- Why, with his little brothers and sisters, 
 were named Serpents, were taught to believe 
 that the serpent was the first ancestor of their 
 race, and that they must never injure any 
 creeping thing. When they were still very
 
 THE YOUTH OF WHY- WHY. 183 
 
 young, the figure of the serpent was tattooed 
 over their legs and breasts, so that every 
 member of primitive society who met them 
 had the advantage of knowing their crest and 
 highly respectable family name. 
 
 The birth of Why-Why was a season of 
 discomfort and privation. The hill tribe 
 which lived on the summit of the hill now 
 known as the Tetc du Chien had long been 
 aware that an addition to the population of 
 the cave was expected. They had therefore 
 prepared, according to the invariable etiquette 
 of these early times, to come down on the cave 
 people, maltreat the ladies, steal all the pro- 
 perty they could lay hands on, and break 
 whatever proved too heavy to carry. Good 
 manners, of course, forbade the cave people 
 to resist this visit, but etiquette permitted 
 (and in New Caledonia still permits) the 
 group to bury and hide its portable posses- 
 sions. Canoes h'ad been brought into the 
 little creek beneath the cave, to convey the 
 women and children into a safe retreat, and 
 the men were just beginning to hide the 
 spears, bone daggers, flint fish-hooks, mats, 
 shell razors, nets, and so forth, when Why- 
 Why gave an early proof of his precocity
 
 iS4 THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 by entering the world some time before his 
 arrival was expected. 
 
 Instantly all was confusion. The infant, his 
 mother and the other non-combatants of the 
 tribe, were bundled into canoes and paddled, 
 through a tempestuous sea, to the site of the 
 modern Bordighiera. The men who were not 
 \yith the canoes fled into the depths of the 
 Gorge Saint Louis, which now severs France 
 from Italy. The hill tribe came down at the 
 double, and in a twinkling had " made hay " 
 (to borrow a modern agricultural expression) 
 of all the personal property of the cave 
 dwellers. They tore the nets (the use of 
 w^iich they did not understand), they broke 
 the shell razors, they pouched the opulent 
 store of flint arrowheads and bone daggers, 
 and they tortured to death the pigs, which 
 the cave people had just begun to try to 
 domesticate. After performing these rites, 
 which were perfectly legal — indeed, it would 
 have been gross rudeness to neglect them — 
 the hill people withdrew to their wind-swept 
 home on the Tete du Chien. 
 
 Philosophers who believe in the force of 
 early impressions will be tempted to main- 
 tain that Why-Why's invincible hatred of
 
 THE YOUTH OF WHY-WHY. 185 
 
 established institutions maybe traced to these 
 hours of discomfort in which his h'fc began. 
 
 The very earHcst years of Why-W'h}-, unHkc 
 those of Mr. John Stuart Mill, whom in many 
 respects he resembled, were not distinguished 
 by proofs of extraordinary intelligence. He 
 rather promptly, however, showed signs of a 
 sceptical character. Like other sharp children, 
 Why-Why was always asking metaphysical 
 conundrums. Who made men? W' ho made 
 the sun } \\\\y has the cave-bear such a 
 hoarse voic€ .? Why don't lobsters grow on 
 trees } — he would incessantly demand. In 
 answer to these and similar questions, the 
 mother of Why-Why would tell him stories 
 out of the simple mythology of the tribe. 
 There was quite a store of traditional replies 
 to inquisitive children, replies sanctioned by 
 antiquity and by the authority of the medicine- 
 men, and In this lore Why-Why's mother was 
 deeply versed. 
 
 Thus, for example, Why-Why would ask 
 his mother who made men. She would reply 
 that long ago Pund-jcl, the first man, made 
 two Images of human beings in clay, and stuck 
 on curly bark for hair. He then danced a 
 corroboree round them, and sang a song.
 
 1 86 THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 They rose up, and appeared as full-grown 
 men. To this statement, hallowed by imme- 
 morial belief, Why-Why only answered by 
 asking- who made Pund-jel. His mother said 
 that Pund-jel came out of a plot of reeds and 
 rushes. Why-Why was silent, but thought 
 in his heart that the whole theory was " bosh- 
 bosh," to use the early reduplicative language 
 of these remote times. Nor could he conceal 
 his doubts about the Deluge and the frog who 
 once drowned all the world. Here is the 
 story of the frog: — "Once, long ago, there 
 was a big frog. He drank himself full of 
 water. He could not get rid of the water. 
 Once he saw a sand-eel dancing on his tail 
 by the sea-shore. It made him laugh so that 
 he burst, and all the water ran out. There 
 was a great flood, and every one was drowned 
 except two or three men and women, who got 
 on an island. Past came the pelican, in a 
 canoe; he took off the men, but wanting to 
 marry the woman, kept her to the last. She 
 wrapped up a log in a 'possum rug to deceive 
 the pelican, and swam to shore and escaped. 
 The pelican was very angry ; he began to 
 paint himself white, to show that he was on 
 the war trail, when past came another pelican,
 
 THE YOUTH OF WHY-WHY. 187 
 
 did not like his looks, and killed him with his 
 beak. That is why pelicans are partly black 
 and white, if you want to know, my little 
 dear," said the mother of Why-Why. 
 
 Many stories like this were told in the cave, 
 but they found no credit with Why-Why. 
 When he was but ten years old, his inquiring 
 spirit showed itself in the following remark- 
 able manner. He had always been informed 
 that a serpent was the mother of his race, 
 and that he must treat serpents with the 
 greatest reverence. To kill one was sacrilege. 
 In spite of this, he stole out unobserved and 
 crushed a viper which had stung his little 
 brother. He noticed that no harm ensued, 
 and this encouraged him to commit a still 
 more daring act. None but the old men 
 and the warriors were allowed to eat oysters. 
 It was universally held that if a woman or 
 a child touched an oyster, the earth would 
 open and swallow the culprit. Not daunted 
 by this prevalent belief, Why- Why one day 
 devoured no less than four dozen oysters, 
 opening the shells with a flint spear-head, 
 which he had secreted in his waist-band. 
 The earth did not open and swallow him 
 as he had swallowed the oysters, and from
 
 lS8 THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 that moment he became suspicious of all the 
 ideas and customs imposed by the old men 
 and wizards. 
 
 Two or three touching incidents in domestic 
 life, which occurred when Why-Why was about 
 twelve years old, confirmed him in the dis- 
 sidence of his dissent, for the first Radical was 
 the first Dissenter, The etiquette of the age 
 (which survives among the Yorubas and other 
 tribes) made it criminal for a woman to see 
 her husband, or even to mention his name. 
 When, therefore, the probable father of Why- 
 Why became weary of supporting his family, 
 he did not need to leave the cave and tramp 
 abroad. He merely ceased to bring in tree- 
 frogs, grubs, roots, and the other supplies 
 which Why-Why's mother was accustomed 
 to find concealed under a large stone in the 
 neighbourhood of the cave. 
 
 The poor pious woman, who had always 
 religiously abstained from seeing her lord's 
 face, and from knowing his name, was now 
 reduced to destitution. There was no one 
 to grub up pig-nuts for her, nor to extract 
 insects of an edible sort from beneath the 
 bark of trees. As she could not identify her 
 invisible husband, she was unable to denounce
 
 THE YOUTH OF WHY-WITY. 189 
 
 him to the wizards, who would, for a conside- 
 ration, have frightened him out of his life or 
 mto the performance of his duty. Thus, even 
 with the aid of Why-Why, existence became 
 too laborious for her strength, and she gradu- 
 ally pined away. As she lay in a half-fainting 
 and almost dying state, Why-Why rushed 
 out to find the most celebrated local medicine- 
 man. In half an hour the chief medicine-man 
 appeared, dressed in the skin of a wolf, tagged 
 about with bones, skulls, dead lizards, and 
 other ornaments of his official attire. You 
 may see a picture very like him in Mr. Catlin's 
 book about the Mandans. Armed with a 
 drum and a rattle, he leaped into the pre- 
 sence of the sick woman, uttering unearthly 
 yells. His benevolent action and "bedside 
 manner " were in accordance with the medical 
 science of the time. He merely meant to 
 frighten away the evil spirit which (accord- 
 ing to the received hypothesis) was destroying 
 the mother of Why-Wh}'. \\'hat he succeeded 
 in doing was to make Why-Why's mother 
 give a faint scream, after which her jaw fell, 
 and her eyes grew fixed and staring. 
 
 The grief of Why-Why was profound. 
 Reckless of consequences, he declared, with
 
 190 THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 impious publicity, that the law which forbade 
 a wife to see her own husband, and the 
 medical science which frightened poor women 
 to death were cruel and ridiculous. As Why- 
 Why (though a promising child) was still 
 under age, little notice was taken of remarks 
 which were attributed to the petulance of 
 youth. But when he went further, and 
 transgressed the law which then forbade a 
 brother to speak to his own sister, on pain of 
 death, the general indignation was no longer 
 repressed. In vain did Why- Why plead that 
 if he neglected bis sister no one else would 
 comfort her. His life was spared, but the 
 unfortunate little girl's bones were dug up by 
 a German savant last year, in a condition 
 which makes it only too certain that cannibal- 
 ism was practised by the early natives of the 
 Mediterranean coast. These incidents then, 
 namely, the neglect of his unknown father, 
 the death of his mother, and the execution of 
 his sister, confirmed Why- Why in the belief 
 that radical social reforms were desirable. 
 
 The coming of age of Why-W^hy was cele- 
 brated in the manner usual among primitive 
 people. The ceremonies were not of a 
 character to increase his pleasure in life, nor
 
 THE YOUTH OF WITY-lVirY. 191 
 
 his respect for constituted authority. When 
 he was fourteen years of age, he was pinned, 
 during his sleep, by four adult braves, who 
 knocked out his front teeth, shaved his head 
 with sharp chips of quartzite, cut off the first 
 joint of his little finger, and daubed his whole 
 body over with clay. They then turned him 
 loose, imposing on him his name of Why- 
 Why ; and when his shaven hair began to 
 show through the clay daubing, the women 
 of the tribe washed him, and painted him 
 black and white. The indignation of Wh}-- 
 Why may readily be conceived. Why, he 
 kept asking, should you shave a fellow's head, 
 knock out his teeth, cut off his little finger, 
 daub him with clay, and paint him like a 
 pelican, because he is fourteen years old ? To 
 these radical questions, the braves (who had 
 all lost their own front teeth) replied, that 
 this was the custom of their fathers. They 
 tried to console him, moreover, by pointing 
 out that now he might eat oysters, and catch 
 himself a bride from some hostile tribe, or 
 give his sister in exchange for a wife. This 
 was little comfort to Why-Why. He had 
 eaten oysters already without supernatural 
 punishment, and his sister, as we have seen,
 
 102 THE ROMANCE OE THE EIRST RADICAL. 
 
 had sufrcred the extreme penalty of the law. 
 Nor could our hero persuade himself that to 
 club and carry off a hostile girl in the dark 
 was the best way to win a loving wife. He 
 remained single, and became a great eater of 
 oysters. 
 
 THE MANHOOD OF ^YHY-WHY. 
 
 As time went on our hero developed into 
 one of the most admired braves of his com- 
 munity. No one was more successful in 
 battle, and it became almost a proverb that 
 when Why-Why went on the war-path there 
 was certain to be meat enough and to spare, 
 even for the women. Why-Why, though a 
 Radical, was so far from perfect that he in- 
 variably complied with the usages of his time 
 when they seemed rational and useful. If a 
 little tattooing on the arm would have saved 
 men from a horrible disease, he would have 
 had all the tribe tattooed. He was no bigot. 
 He kept his word, and paid his debts, for no 
 one was ever very " advanced " all at once. It 
 was only when the ceremonious or super- 
 stitious ideas of his age and race appeared 
 to him senseless and mischievous that he
 
 THE MANHOOD OF WHY- WHY. 193 
 
 rebelled, or at least hinted his doubts and 
 misgivings. This course of conduct made him 
 feared and hated both by the medicine- men, 
 or clerical wizards, and by the old women of 
 the tribe. They naturally tried to take their 
 revenge upon him in the usual way. 
 
 A charge of heresy, of course, could not 
 well be made, for in the infancy of our race 
 there were neither Courts of Arches nor 
 General Assemblies. But it was always 
 possible to accuse Why-Why of malevolent 
 witchcraft. The medicine-men had not long to 
 wait for an opportunity. An old woman died, 
 as old women will, and every one was ask- 
 ing " Who sent the evil spirit tliat destroyed 
 poor old Dada ? " In Why- Why's time no 
 other explanation of natural death by disease 
 or age was entertained. The old woman's 
 grave was dug, and all the wizards intently 
 watched for the first worm or insect that 
 should crawl out of the mould. The head- 
 wizard soon detected a beetle, making, as he 
 alleged, in the direction where W^hy-\\'hy 
 stood observing the proceedings. The wizard 
 at once denounced our hero as the cause of 
 the old woman's death. To have blenched 
 for a moment would have been ruin. But 
 

 
 191 THE ROMAXCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL, 
 
 Why-Why merely lifted his hand, and in a 
 moment a spear flew from it which pinned 
 his denouncer ignominiously to a pine-tree. 
 The funeral of the old \\oman was promptly 
 converted into a free fight, in which there 
 was more noise than bloodshed. After this 
 event the medicine-men left Why-Why to his 
 own courses, and waited for a chance of turn- 
 ing public opinion against the sceptic. 
 
 The conduct of Why- Why was certainly 
 calculated to outrage all conservative feeling. 
 When on the war-path or in the excitement of 
 the chase he had even been known to address 
 a tribesman by his name, as "Old Cow," or 
 " Flying Cloud," or what not, instead of 
 adopting the orthodox nomenclature of the 
 classificatory system, and saying, "Third 
 cousin by the mother's side, thrice removed, 
 will you lend me an arrow?" or whatever it 
 might be. On "tabu-days," once a week, 
 when the rest of the people in the cave were 
 all silent, sedentary, and miserable (from some 
 superstitious feeling which we can no longer 
 understand), Why-Why would walk about 
 whistling, or would chip his flints or set his 
 nets. He ought to have been punished with 
 death, but no one cared to interfere with him,
 
 THE MANHOOD OF WirV-WITY. 195 
 
 Instead of dancing at the great "corro- 
 borees," or religious ballets of his people, he 
 would "sit out" with a girl whose sad, roman- 
 tic history became fatally interwoven with his 
 own. In vain the medicine-men assured him 
 that Pund-jcl, the great spirit, was angry. 
 Why-Why v.-as indifferent to the thunder 
 which was believed to be the voice of Pund- 
 jel. His behaviour at the funeral of a cele- 
 brated brave actually caused what we would 
 call a reformation in burial ceremonies. 
 
 It was usual to la)' the corpses of the 
 famous dead in a cave, where certain of the 
 tribesmen were sent to watch for forty days 
 and nights the decaying bod}-. This ghastly 
 task was made more severe by the difficulty of 
 obtaining food. Everything that the watchers 
 were allowed to eat was cooked outside the cave 
 with complicated ceremonies. If any part of 
 the ritual was omitted, if a drop or a morsel 
 were spilled, the whole rite had to be done over 
 again from the beginning. This was not all. 
 The chief medicine-man took a small portion 
 of the meat in a long spoon, and entered the 
 sepulchral cavern. In the dim light he 
 approached one of the watchers of the dead, 
 danced before him, uttered a mysterious
 
 196 THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 formula of words, and made a shot at the 
 hungry man's mouth with a long spoon. If 
 the shot was straight, if the spoon did not 
 touch the lips or nose or mouth, the watcher 
 made ready to receive a fresh spoonful. But 
 if the attempt failed, if the spoon did not 
 go straight to the mark, the mourners were 
 obliged to wait till all the cooking ceremonies 
 were performed afresh, when the feeding 
 began again. 
 
 Now, Why-why was a mourner whom the 
 chief medicine-man was anxious to "spite," 
 as children say, and at the end of three days' 
 watching our hero had not received a morsel 
 of food. The spoon had invariably chanced 
 to miss him. On the fourth night Why-Why 
 entertained his fellow-watchers with a 
 harangue on the imbecility of the whole 
 proceeding. He walked out of the cave, 
 kicked the chief medicine-man into a ravine, 
 seized the pot full of meat, brought it back 
 with him, and made a hearty meal. The 
 other mourners, half dead with fear, expected 
 to see the corpse they were " waking " arise, 
 "girn," and take some horrible revenge. 
 Nothing of the sort occurred, and the burials 
 of the cave dwellers gradually came to be 
 managed in a less irksome way.
 
 ( 197 ) 
 
 THE LOVES OF VERVA AND WIIY-WIIY. 
 
 No man, however intrepid, can offend 
 with impunity the most sacred laws of 
 society. Wh}'-\Vhy proved no exception to 
 this rule: Mis decline and fall date, we may 
 almost say, from the hour when he bought 
 a fair-haired, blue-eyed female child from a 
 member of a tribe that had wandered out of 
 the far north. The tribe were about to cook 
 poor little Verva because her mother was 
 dead, and she seemed a bouche inutile. For 
 the price of a pair of shell fish-hooks, a bone 
 dagger, and a bundle of grass-string Why- 
 Why (who had a tender heart) ransomed the 
 child. In the cave she lived an unhappy life, 
 as the other children maltreated and tor- 
 tured her in the manner peculiar to pitiless 
 infancy. 
 
 Such protection as a man can give to a 
 child the unlucky little girl received from 
 Why- Why. The cave people, like most 
 savages, made it a rule never to punish their 
 children. Wh}'-Why got into many quarrels 
 because he would occasionally box the ears 
 of the mischievous imps who tormented poor 
 Verva, the fair-haired and blue-eyed captive
 
 I9S THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 from the north. There grew up a kind of 
 friendship between Why-Why and the child. 
 She would follow him with dog-like fidelity 
 and with a stealthy tread when he hunted 
 the red deer in the forests of the Alpine 
 Maritimes. She wove for him a belt of 
 shells, strung on stout fibres of grass. In 
 this belt Why- Why would attend the tribal 
 corroborees, where, as has been said, he was 
 inclined to " sit out " with Verva and watch, 
 rather than join in the grotesque dance per- 
 formed as worship to the Bear. 
 
 As Verva grew older and ceased to be 
 persecuted by the children, she became beauti- 
 ful in the unadorned manner of that early 
 time. Her friendship with Why- Why began 
 to embarrass the girl, and our hero himself 
 felt a quite unusual shyness when he en- 
 countered the captive girl among the pines 
 on the hillside. Both these untutored hearts 
 were strangely stirred, and neither Why-Why 
 nor Verva could imagine wherefore they turned 
 pale or blushed when they met, or even when 
 either heard the other's voice. If Why- Why 
 had not distrusted and indeed detested the 
 chief medicine-man, he would have sought 
 that worthy's professional advice. But he
 
 THE LOVES OE VERVA AND IVIIY-IVIIV. 199 
 
 kept his symptoms to himself, and Verva 
 also pined in secret. 
 
 These artless persons were in love without 
 knowing it. 
 
 It is not surprising that they did not 
 understand the nature of their complaint, for 
 probably before Why-Why no one had ever 
 been in love. Courtship had consisted in 
 knocking a casual girl on the head in the 
 dark, and the only marriage ceremony had 
 been that of capture. Affection on the side 
 of the bride was out of the question, for, as 
 we have remarked, she was never allowed so 
 much as to see her husband's face. Probably 
 the institution of falling in love has been 
 evolved in, and has spread from, various 
 early centres of human existence. Among 
 the primitive Ligurian races, however, Why- 
 Why and Verva must be held the inventors, 
 and, alas ! the protomartyrs of the passion. 
 Love, like murder, "will out," and events 
 revealed to Why-Wh}' and Verva the true 
 nature of their sentiments. 
 
 It was a considerable exploit of Why- 
 Why's that brought him and the northern 
 captive to understand each other. The brother 
 of Why-Why had died after partaking too
 
 200 THE ROMAXCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 freely of a member of a hostile tribe. The 
 cave people, of course, expected Why- Why 
 to avenge his kinsman. The brother, they 
 said, must have been destroyed by a boilya 
 or vampire, and, as somebody must have 
 sent that vampire against the lad, somebody 
 must be speared for it. Such are primitive 
 ideas of medicine and justice. An ordinary 
 brave would have skulked about the dwellings 
 of some neighbouring human groups till he 
 got a chance of knocking ov^er a child or an 
 old woman, after which justice and honour 
 would have been satisfied. But Why-Why 
 declared that, if he must spear somebody, 
 he would spear a man of importance. The 
 forms of a challenge were therefore notched 
 on a piece of stick, which was solemnly 
 carried by heralds to the most renowned 
 brave of a community settled in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the modern San Remo. This 
 hero might have very reasonably asked, 
 "Why should I spear Why-Why because 
 his brother over-ate himself } " The laws 
 of honour, however (which even at this period 
 had long been established), forbade a gentle- 
 man when challenged to discuss the reason- 
 ableness of the proceeding.
 
 THE LOVES OF VERY A AND WHY- WHY. 20i 
 
 The champions met on a sandy plahi be- 
 side a little river near the modern Vcntimiglia. 
 An amphitheatre of rock surrounded them, 
 and, far beyond, the valley was crowned by 
 the ancient snow of an Alpine peak. The 
 tribes of either party gathered in the rocky 
 amphitheatre, and breathlessly watched the 
 issue of the battle. Each warrior was 
 equipped with a shield, a sheaf of spears, and 
 a heavy, pointed club. At thirt)- paces dis- 
 tance they began throwing, and the spectators 
 enjoyed a beautiful exposition of warlike skill. 
 Both men threw with extreme force and 
 deadly aim ; while each defended himself 
 cleverly with his shield. The spears were 
 exhausted, and but one had pierced the thigh 
 of Why-Why, while his opponent had two 
 sticking" in his neck and left arm. 
 
 Then, like two meeting thunder- clouds, the 
 champions dashed at each other with their 
 clubs. The sand was whirled up around them 
 as they spun in the wild dance of battle, and 
 the clubs rattled incessantly on the heads and 
 shields. Twice Why- Why was down, but he 
 rose with wonderful agility, and never dropped 
 his shield. A third time he stooped beneath 
 a tremendous whack, but when all seemed
 
 202 THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 over, grasped a handful of sand, and flung 
 it right ill his enemy's eyes. The warrior 
 reeled, blinded and confused, when Why-Why 
 gave point with the club in his antagonist's 
 throat ; the blood leaped out, and both fell 
 senseless on the plain. 
 
 •^ 'rf^ 'rp ^jf *^ 
 
 When the slow mist cleared from before the 
 eyes of Why- Why he found himself (he was 
 doubtless the first hero of the many heroes 
 who have occupied this romantic position) 
 stretched on a grassy bed, and watched by 
 the blue eyes of Verva. Where were the 
 sand, the stream, the hostile warrior, the 
 crowds of friends and foes? It was Verva's 
 part to explain. The champion of the other 
 tribe had never breathed after he received the 
 club-thrust, and the chief medicine-man had 
 declared that Why- Why was also dead. He 
 had suggested that both champions should be 
 burned in the desolate spot where they lay, 
 that their boilyas, or ghosts, might not harm 
 the tribes. The lookers-on had gone to their 
 several and distant caves to fetch fire for 
 the ceremony (they possessed no means of 
 striking a lights), and Verva, unnoticed, had 
 lingered beside Why-Why, and laid his bleed-
 
 THE LOVES OF VERVA AND WIIY-WIIY. 203 
 
 ing head in her lap. Why-Why had uttered 
 a groan, and the brave girl dragged him from 
 the field into a safe retreat among the woods 
 not far from the stream. Why-Why had been 
 principally beaten about the head, and his 
 injuries, therefore, were slight. 
 
 After watching the return of the tribesmen, 
 and hearing the chief medicine-man explain 
 that Why-Wh)''s body had been carried away 
 by " the bad black-fellow with a tail who lives 
 under the earth," Why-Why enjoyed the plea- 
 sure of seeing his kinsmen and his foes leave 
 the place to its natural silence. Then he found 
 words, and poured forth his heart to Verva. 
 They must never be sundered — they must be 
 man and wife ! The girl leaned her golden 
 head on Why-Why's dark shoulder, and 
 sniffed at him, for kissing was an institution 
 not yet evolved. She wept. She had a dread- 
 ful thing to tell him, — that she could never be 
 his. " Look at this mark," she said, exposing 
 the inner side of her arm. Why-Why looked, 
 shuddered, and turned pale. On Verva's arm 
 he recognized, almost defaced, the same tat- 
 tooed badge that wound its sinuous spirals 
 across his own broad chest and round his 
 manly legs. It ivas the mark of the Serpent !
 
 204 THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 Both were Serpents ; both, unknown to 
 Why-Why, though not to Verva, bore the 
 same nanne, the same badge, and, if Why- 
 Why had been a rehgious man, both would 
 have worshipped the same reptile. Marriage 
 between them then was a thing accursed; man 
 punished it by death. Why-Why bent his 
 head and thought. He remembered all his 
 youth — the murder of his sister for no crime ; 
 the killing of the serpent, and how no evil 
 came of it ; the eating of the oysters, and how 
 the earth had not opened and swallowed him. 
 His mind was made up. It was absolutely 
 certain that his tribe and Verva's kin had 
 never been within a thousand miles of each 
 other. In a few impassioned words he ex- 
 plained to Verva his faith, his simple creed 
 that a thing was not necessarily wrong be- 
 cause the medicine-men said so, and the tribe 
 believed them. The girl's own character was 
 all trustfulness, and Why- Why was the per- 
 son she trusted. " Oh, Why-Why, dear," she 
 said blushing (for she had never before ven- 
 tured to break the tribal rule which forbade 
 calling any one by his name), "Oh, Why- 
 Why, you are ak<.'ays right ! "
 
 LA MORT lV//y-lVnV. 205 
 
 And o'er ihe hills, and far away 
 
 Beyond their utmost purple rini, 
 Beyond the night, across the day, 
 
 Through all the world she followed hini. 
 
 LA MORT WHY-WHY. 
 
 Two years had passed like a dream in the 
 pleasant valley which, in far later ages, the 
 Romans called Vallis Aurea, and which we 
 call Vallauris. Here, at a distance of some 
 thirty miles from the cave and the tribe, dwelt 
 in fancied concealment Why-Why and Verva. 
 The clear stream was warbling at their feet, 
 in the bright blue weather of spring ; the 
 scent of the may blossoms was poured abroad, 
 and, lying in the hollow of Why-Why's shield, 
 a pretty little baby with Why-Why's dark 
 eyes and Verva's golden locks was crowing 
 to his mother. Why-Why sat beside her, 
 and was busily making the first European 
 pipkin with the clay which he had found near 
 Vallauris. All was peace. 
 
 ***** 
 
 There was a low whizzing sound, some- 
 thing seemed to rush past Why-Wh)', and 
 with a scream Verva fell on her face, A 
 spear had pierced her breast. With a yell
 
 2o6 THE ROMANCE OF TTIF. FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 like that of a wounded lion, Why-Why threw 
 himself on the bleeding body of his bride. 
 For many moments he heard no sound but 
 her long, loud and unconscious breathing. 
 He did not mark the yells of his tribesmen, 
 nor feel the spears that rained down on him- 
 self, nor sec the hideous face of the chief 
 medicine-man peering at his own. Verva 
 ceased to breathe. There was a convulsion, 
 and her limbs were still. Then Why-Why 
 rose. In his right hand was his famous club, 
 " the watcher of the fords ; " in his left his 
 shield. These had never lain far from his 
 hand since he fled with Verva. 
 
 He knew that the end had come, as he had 
 so often dreamt of it ; he knew that he was 
 trapped and taken by his offended tribesmen. 
 His first blow shattered the head of the chief 
 medicine-man. Then he flung himself, all 
 bleeding from the spears, among the press 
 of savages who started from every lentisk 
 t)ush and tuft of tall flowering heath. They 
 gave back when four of their chief braves had 
 fallen, and Why-Why lacked strength and 
 will to pursue them. He turned and drew 
 Verva's body beneath the rocky wall, and 
 then he faced his enemies. He threw down
 
 LA I\!ORT WHY. WHY. 207 
 
 shield and club and raised his liands. A 
 light seemed to shine about his face, and his 
 first word had a strange tone that caught the 
 ear and chilled the heart of all who heard him. 
 " Listen," he said, " for these are the last 
 words of Why-Why. He came like the 
 water, and like the wind he goes, he knew not 
 whence, and he knows not whither. He docs 
 not curse you, for you are that which you are. 
 But the day will come" (and here Why- Why's 
 voice grew louder and his eyes burned), " the 
 day will come when you will no longer be the 
 slave of things like that dead dog," and here 
 he pointed to the shapeless face of the slain 
 medicine-man. "The day will come, when 
 a man shall speak unto his sister in loving 
 kindness, and none shall do him wrong. The 
 day will come when a woman shall unpunished 
 see the face and name the name of her 
 husband. As the summers go by you will 
 not bow down to the hyaenas, and the bears, 
 and worship the adder and the viper. You 
 will not cut and bruise the bodies of your 
 young men, or cruelly strike and seize away 
 women in the darkness. Yes, and the time 
 will be when a man may love a woman of the 
 same family name as himself" — but here the
 
 2o8 THE ROMANCE OF THE FIRST RADICAL. 
 
 outraged religion of the tribesmen could 
 endure no longer to listen to these wild and 
 blasphemous words, A shower of spears flew 
 out, and Why-Why fell across the body of 
 Verva. His own was "like a marsh full of 
 reeds," said the poet of the tribe, in a song 
 which described these events, "so thick the 
 spears stood in it." 
 
 When he was dead, the tribe knew what 
 they had lost in Why-Why. They bore his 
 body, with that of Verva, to the cave ; there 
 they laid the lovers — Why-Why crowned with 
 a crown of sea-shells, and with a piece of a 
 rare magical substance (iron) at his side.* 
 Then the tribesmen withdrew from that now 
 holy ground, and built them houses, and 
 forswore the follies of the medicine-men, as 
 Why- Why had prophesied. Many thousands 
 of years later the cave was opened when the 
 railway to Genoa was constructed, and the 
 bones of Why-Wh}', witli the crown, and 
 the fragment of iron, were found where they 
 had been laid by his repentant kinsmen. He 
 had bravely asserted the rights of the indi- 
 vidual conscience against the dictates of 
 
 * His photograph, thus arrayed, may Ije purchased at 
 Mentone.
 
 LA MORT WHY-WHY. 209 
 
 Society; he had lived, and loved, and died, 
 not in vain. Last April I plucked a rose 
 beside his cave, and laid it with another 
 that had blossomed at the door of the last 
 house which covered the homeless head of 
 Shelley. 
 
 The prophecies of Why-Why have been 
 partially fulfilled. Brothers, if they happen 
 to be on speaking terms, may certainly speak 
 to their sisters, though we are still, alas, for- 
 bidden to marry the sisters of our deceased 
 wives. Wives may see their husbands, though 
 in Society, they rarely avail themselves of the 
 privilege. Young ladies are still forbidden 
 to call young men at large by their Christian 
 names ; but this tribal law, and survival of 
 the classificatory system, is rapidly losing its 
 force. Burials in the savage manner to which 
 Why-Why objected, will soon, doubtless, be 
 permitted to conscientious Nonconformists 
 in the graveyards of the Church of England. 
 The teeth of boys arc still knocked out at 
 public and private schools, but the ceremony 
 is neither formal nor universal. Our advance 
 in liberty is due to an army of forgotten 
 Radical martyrs of whom we know less than 
 we do of Mr. Bradlaugh,
 
 A DUCHESS'S SECRET.
 
 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 
 
 When I was poor, and honest, and a novelist 
 I little thought that I should ever be rich, 
 and something not very unlike a Duke ; and, 
 as to honesty, but an indifferent character. I 
 have had greatness thrust on me. I am, like 
 Simpcox in the dramatis pcvsonce of " Henry 
 IV.," " an impostor ; " and yet I scarcely know 
 how I could have escaped this deplorable 
 (though lucrative) position. " Love is a great 
 master," says the " Mort d'Arthur," and I 
 perhaps may claim sympathy and pity as a 
 victim of love. The following unaffected lines 
 (in which only names and dates are disguised) 
 contain all the apology I can offer to a cen- 
 sorious world. 
 
 Two or three years ago I was dependent 
 on literature for my daily bread. I was a 
 regular man-of-all-work. Having the advan-
 
 214 ^ DUCHESS'S SECRET. 
 
 tage of knowing a clerk in the Foreign Office 
 who went into society (he had been my pupil 
 at the university), I picked up a good deal of 
 scandalous gossip, which I published in the 
 Pimlico Postboy, a journal of fashion. I was 
 also engaged as sporting prophet to the 
 Tipster, and was not less successful than my 
 contemporaries as a vaticinator of future 
 events. At the same time I was contributing 
 a novel (anonymously) to the Fleet Street 
 Magazine, a very respectable publication, 
 though perhaps a little dull. The editor had 
 expressly requested me to make things rather 
 more lively, and I therefore gave my imagi- 
 nation free play in the construction of my 
 plot. I introduced a beautiful girl, daughter 
 of a preacher in the Shaker community. Her 
 hand was sought in marriage by a sporting 
 baronet, who had seen her as he pursued the 
 chase through the pathless glens of the New 
 Forest. This baronet she married after 
 suffering things intolerable from the opposi- 
 tion of the Shakers. Here I had a good deal of 
 padding about Shakers and their ways ; and, 
 near the end of the sixth chapter my heroine 
 became the wife of Sir William Buckley. But 
 the baronet proved a perfect William Rufus
 
 A DUCHESS'S SECRE7\ 215 
 
 for variegated and versatile blackguardism. 
 Lady Buckley's life was made impossible by 
 his abominable conduct. At this juncture 
 my heroinp chanced to be obliged to lunch at 
 a railway refreshment-room. My last chapter 
 had described the poor lady lunching lonely in 
 the bleak and gritty waiting room of Swilby 
 Junction, lonely except for the company of 
 her little boy. I showed how she fell into a 
 strange and morbid vein of reflection sugges- 
 ted by the qualities of the local sherry. If 
 she was to live, her lord and master. Sir W. 
 Buckley, must die ! And I described how a 
 fiendish temptation was whispered to her by 
 the glass of local sherry. " William's consti- 
 tution, strong as it is," she murmured inward- 
 ly, " could never stand a dozen of that sherry. 
 Suppose he chanced to partake of it — acci- 
 dentally — rather late in the evening." Amidst 
 these reflections I allowed the December 
 instalment of " The Baronet's Wife " to come 
 to a conclusion in the Fhrt Street llagazine. 
 Obviously crime was in the wind. 
 
 It is my habit to read the " Agony Column " 
 (as it is flippantly called), the second column 
 in the outer sheet of the Times. Who knows 
 but he may there see something to his advan-
 
 2i6 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 
 
 tage ; and, besides, the mysterious advertise- 
 ments may suggest ideas for plots. One day 
 I took up the " Agony Cokimn," as usual, at 
 ni}' club, and, to my surprise, read the follow- 
 ing advertisement : — 
 
 "F. S. M.— Sherry Wine. Wreck of 
 THE " Jingo." — Wretched Boy : Stay your 
 unhallowed hand ! Would you expose an 
 erring MOTHER'S secret } Author will please 
 communicate with Messrs. Mantlepiece and 
 Co., Solicitors, Upton-on-the-Wold." 
 
 As soon as I saw this advertisement, as 
 soon as my eyes fell on " Sherry Wine " and 
 "Author," I felt that here Avas something 
 for me. *' F. S. M." puzzled me at first, but 
 I read it Fleet Street Maga.zine, by a flash 
 of inspiration. "Wretched Boy" seemed 
 familiar and unappropriate — I was twenty- 
 nine — but what of that? Of course I com- 
 municated with Messrs. Mantlepiece, saying 
 that I had reason for supposing that I was 
 the " author " alluded to in the advertisement. 
 As to the words, " Wreck of the Jingo," they 
 entirely beat me, but I hoped that some light 
 would be thrown on their meaning by the 
 respectable firm of solicitors. It did occur to 
 me that if any one had reasons for communi-
 
 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 217 
 
 catmg with mc, it would have been better and 
 safer to address a letter to me, under cover, to 
 the editor of the Fleet Street Magazine, But 
 the public have curious ideas on these matters. 
 Two days after I wrote to Messrs. Mantle- 
 piece I received a very guarded reply, in 
 which I was informed that their client wished 
 to make my acquaintance, and that a carriage 
 would await mc, if I presented myself at 
 Upton-on-thc-W'old Station, by the train 
 arriving at 5.45 on Friday. Well, I thought 
 to myself, I may as well do a " week-ending," 
 as some people call it, with my anonymous 
 friend as anywhere else. At the same time I 
 knew that the " carriage " might be hired by 
 enemies to convey me to the Pauper Lunatic 
 Asylum or to West Ham, the place where 
 people disappear mysteriously. I might be the 
 victim of a rival's jealousy (and many men, 
 novelists of most horrible imaginings, envied my 
 talents and success), or a Nihilist plot might 
 have drawn me into its machiner)-. But I 
 was young, and I thought I would see the 
 thing out. My journey was unadventurous, 
 if you except a row with a German, who 
 refused to let me open the window. But this 
 has nothing to do with my narrative, and is
 
 3JS A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 
 
 not a false scent to make a guileless reader 
 keep his eye on the Teuton. Some novelists 
 permit themselves these artifices, which I 
 think untradesmanlike and unworthy. When 
 I arrived at Upton, the station-master made 
 a charge at my carriage, and asked me if I 
 was " The gentleman for the Towers ? " The 
 whole affair a\ as so mysterious that I thought 
 it better to answer in the affirmative. My 
 luggage (a Gladstone bag) was borne by four 
 stately and liveried menials to a roomy and 
 magnificent carriage, in which everything, 
 from the ducal crown on the silver foot- 
 warmers to the four splendid bays, breathed 
 of opulence, directed and animated by cul- 
 ture. I dismissed all thoughts of the Pauper 
 Lunatic Asylum and the Nihilists, and was 
 whirled through miles of park and up an 
 avenue lighted by electricity. We reached 
 the baronial gateway of the Towers, a vast 
 Gothic pile in the later manner of Inigo Jones, 
 and a seneschal stood at the foot of a mag- 
 nificent staircase to receive me. I had never 
 seen a seneschal before, but I recognized him 
 by the peeled white wand he carried, by his 
 great silver chain, and his black velvet coat 
 and knee-breeches.
 
 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 219 
 
 "Your lordship's room," says the seneschal 
 (obviously an old and confidential family 
 servant), " is your old one — the Tapestried 
 Chamber. Her Grace is waiting anxiously 
 for you." 
 
 Then two menials marched, with my Glad- 
 stone bag, to the apartment thus indicated. 
 For me, I felt in a dream, or like a man 
 caught up into the fairyland of the " Arabian 
 Nights." "Her Grace" was all very well — 
 the aristocracy always admired my fictitious 
 creations ; but " Your Lordship ! " Why your 
 Lordship ? Then the chilling idea occurred 
 to me that I had not been "the gentleman 
 for the Towers ; " that I was in the position 
 of the hero of " Happy Thoughts " when he 
 went to the Duke's by mistake for the humble 
 home of the Plyte Frazers. But I was young. 
 " Her Grace " could not eat me, and I deter- 
 mined, as I said before, to sec it out. 
 
 I dressed very deliberately, and that process 
 over, was led by the worthy seneschal into a 
 singular octagonal boudoir, hung with soft 
 dark blue arras. The only person in the 
 room was a gaunt, middle-aged lady, in deep 
 mourning. Though I knew no more of the 
 British aristocracy than Mr, W. D. Howells,
 
 220 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 
 
 of New York, I recognized her for the Duchess 
 by her nose, which resembled those worn by 
 the duchesses of Mr. Du Maurier. As soon 
 as we were alone, she rose, drew me to her 
 bosom, much to my horror, looked at me long 
 and earnestly, and at last exclaimed, " How 
 changed you are, Percy ! " (My name is 
 Thomas — Thomas Cobson.) Before I could 
 reply, she was pouring out reproaches on me 
 for having concealed my existence, and 
 revealed in my novel what she spoke of as 
 " the secret." 
 
 When she grew, not calm, but fatigued, I 
 ventured to ask why she had conferred on 
 me the honour of her invitation, and how I 
 had been unfortunate enough to allude to 
 affairs of which I had certainly no knowledge. 
 Her reply was given with stately dignity. 
 " You need not pretend," she said, " to have 
 forgotten what I told you in this very room, 
 before you left England for an African tour 
 in the Jingo. I then revealed to you the 
 secret of my life, the secret of the Duke's 
 death. Your horror when you heard how 
 that most unhappy man compelled me to free 
 myself from his tyranny, by a method which 
 his habits rendered only too easy — in short,
 
 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 221 
 
 by a dose of cheap sherry, was deep and 
 natural. Oh, Percy, you did not kiss your 
 mother before starting on your ill-omened 
 voyage. As soon as I heard of the wreck of 
 \hQ Jingo, and that you were the only passen- 
 ger drowned, I recognized an artifice, un 
 vieiix true, by which you hoped to escape from 
 a mother of whom you were ashamed. You 
 had only pretended to be the victim of 
 Ocean's rage ! People who are drowned in 
 novels always do reappear : and, Percy, your 
 mother is an old novel-reader! My agents 
 have ever since been on your track, but 
 it was reserved for vie to discover the last 
 of the Birkcnhcads in the anonymous author 
 of the 'Baronet's Wife.' That rom.ance, in 
 which you have had the baseness to use 
 your knowledge of a mother's guilt as a 
 motif in your twopenny plot, unveiled to me 
 the secret of your hidden existence. You 
 must stop the story, or alter the following 
 numbers ; you must give up your discredit- 
 able mode of life. Heavens, that a Birken- 
 head should be a literary character ! And 
 you must resume your place in my house and 
 in society." 
 
 Here the Duchess of Stalybridgc paused ;
 
 222 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 
 
 she had quite recovered that repose of manner 
 and icy hauteur which, I understand, is the 
 heritage of the house of Birkenhead. For 
 my part, I had almost lost the modest con- 
 fidence which is, I believe, hereditary in the 
 family of Cobson. It was a scene to make 
 the boldest stand aghast. Here was an un- 
 known lady of the highest rank confessing 
 a dreadful crime to a total stranger, and 
 recognizing in that stranger her son, and the 
 heir to an enormous property and a title as 
 old — as old as British dukedoms, however old 
 they may be. Ouida would have said "heir 
 to a titl-; older than a thousand centuries," 
 but I doubt if the English duke is so ancient 
 as that, or a direct descendant of the Dukes 
 of Edom mentioned in Holy Writ. 
 
 I began pouring out an incoherent flood of 
 evidence to show that I was only Thomas 
 Cobson, and had never been any one else, 
 but at that moment a gong sounded, and a 
 young lady entered the room. She also was 
 dressed in mourning, and the Duchess intro- 
 duced her to me as my cousin, Miss Birken- 
 head. "Gwyneth was a child, Percy," said 
 my august hostess, " when you went to Africa." 
 I shook hands with my cousin with as much
 
 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 223 
 
 composure as I could assume, for, to tell the 
 truth, I was not only moved by my recent 
 adventures, but I had on the spot fallen hope- 
 lessly in love with my new relative. It was Ic 
 coup de fondre of a French writer on the 
 affections — M. Stendhal. Miss Birkenhead 
 had won my heart from the first moment of our 
 meeting". Why should I attempt to describe 
 a psychological experience as rare as instan- 
 taneous conversion, or more so .-* Miss Birk- 
 enhead was tall and dark, with a proud pale 
 face, and eyes which unmistakably indicated 
 the possession of a fine sense of humour. 
 Proud pale people seldom look when they 
 first meet a total stranger — still more a long- 
 lost cousin — as if they had some difficulty in 
 refraining from mirth. Miss Birkenhead's face 
 Vvas as fixed and almost as pure as marble, 
 but I read sympathy and amusement and 
 kindness in her eyes. 
 
 Presently the door opened again, and an 
 elderly man in the dress of a priest came in. 
 To him I was presented — 
 
 " Your old governor, Percy." 
 
 For a moment my unhappy middle-class 
 association made me suppose that the elderly 
 ecclesiastic was my " old Guv'nor,"— my
 
 224 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 
 
 father, the late Duke. But an instant's re- 
 flection proved to me that her Grace meant 
 " tutor " by governor. I am ashamed to say 
 that I now entered into the spirit of the 
 scene, shook the holy man warmly by the 
 hand, and quoted a convenient passage from 
 Horace. 
 
 He appeared to fall into the trap, and 
 began to speak of old recollections of my 
 boyhood. 
 
 Stately liveried menials now, greatly to my 
 surprise, brought in tea. I was just declining 
 tea (for I expected dinner in a few minutes), 
 when a voice (a sweet low voice) whispered-- 
 
 " Take some ! " 
 
 I took some, providentially, as it turned 
 out. Again, I was declining tea-cake, when I 
 could have sworn I heard the same voice (so 
 low that it seemed like the admonition of a 
 passing spirit) say — 
 
 " Take some ! " 
 
 I took some, for I was exceedingly hungry ; 
 and then the conversation lapsed, began 
 again vaguely, and lapsed again. 
 
 We all know that wretched quarter of an 
 hour, or half hour, which unpunctual guests 
 make us pass in famine and fatigue while
 
 A DUCIfESS'S SECRET, 2:5 
 
 they keep dinner waiting. Upon my word, 
 we waited till half-past eleven before dinner 
 was announced. But for the tea, I must 
 have perished ; for, like the butler in Sir 
 George Dasent's novel, " I likes my meals 
 regular." 
 
 The Duchess had obviously forgotten all 
 about dinner. There was a spinning-wheel in 
 the room, and she sat and span like an elderly 
 Fate. When dinner was announced at last, I 
 began to fear it would never end. The menu 
 covered both sides of the card. The Duchess 
 ate little, and " hardly anything was drunk." 
 At last the ladies left us, about one in the 
 morning. I saw my chance, and began judi- 
 ciously to "draw" the chaplain. It appeared 
 that the Duchess did not always dine at half- 
 past eleven. The feast was a movable one, 
 from eight o'clock onwards. The Duchess 
 ^nd the establishment had got into these 
 habits during the old Duke's time. A very 
 strange man the old Duke ; rarely got up till 
 eight in the evening, often prolonged break- 
 fast till next day. 
 
 " But I need not tell you all this, Percy, my 
 old pupil," said the chaplain ; and he winked 
 as a clergyman ought not to wink. 
 
 Q
 
 226 A DUCHESS'S SECRE7\ 
 
 " My dear sir," cried I, encouraged by this 
 performance, " for Heaven's sake tell me what 
 all this means ? In this so-called nineteenth 
 century, in our boasted age of progress, what 
 does the Duchess mean by her invitation to 
 me, and by her conduct at large ? Indeed, 
 why is she at large ? " 
 
 The chaplain drew closer to me. " Did 
 ye ever hear of a duchess in a madhouse ? " 
 said he ; and I owned that I never had met 
 with such an incident in my reading (unless 
 there is one in Webster's plays, somewhere). 
 
 " Well, then, who is to make a beginning ? " 
 asked the priest. " The Duchess has not a 
 relation in the world but Miss Birkenhead, 
 the only daughter of a son of the last Duke 
 but one. The late Duke was a dreadful man, 
 and he turned the poor Duchess's head with 
 the life he led her. The drowning of her 
 only son in the Jingo finished the business. 
 She has got that story about " — (here he 
 touched the decanter of sherry : I nodded) — 
 " she has got that story into her head, and 
 she believes her son is alive ; otherwise she 
 is as sane and unimaginative as — as — as Mr. 
 Chaplin," said he, with a flash of inspiration. 
 " Happily you are an honest man, or you
 
 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 227 
 
 seem like one, and won't take advantage of 
 her delusion." 
 
 This was all I could get out of the chaplain ; 
 indeed, there was no more to be got. I went 
 to bed, but not to sleep. Next day, and 
 many other da}-s, I spent wrestling in argu- 
 ment with the Duchess. I brought her my 
 certificate of baptism, my testamurs in Smalls 
 and Greats, an old passport, a bill of Poole's, 
 anything I could think of to prove my 
 identity. She was obdurate, and only said 
 — " If you are not Percy, how do you know 
 my secret ? " I had in the meantime to alter 
 the intended course of my novel — " The 
 Baronet's Wife." The Baronet was made to 
 become a reformed character. But in all 
 those days at the lonely Towers, and in the 
 intervals of arguing with the poor Duchess, 
 I could not but meet Gwyneth Birkenhead. 
 We met, not as cousins, for Miss Birkenhead 
 had only too clearly appreciated the situation 
 from the moment she first met me. The old 
 seneschal, too, was in the secret ; I don't know 
 what the rest of the menials thought. They 
 w^ere accustomed to the Duchess. But if 
 Gwyneth and I did not meet as cousins, 
 we met as light-hearted young people, in a
 
 22S A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 
 
 queer situation, and in a strange, dismal old 
 house. 
 
 IVe could not in the selfsame mansion dwell 
 Without some stir of heart, some malady ; 
 
 We could not sit at meals but feel how well 
 It soothed each to be the other by. 
 
 Indeed / could not sit at meals without being 
 gratefully reminded of Gwyneth's advice 
 about "taking some" on the night of my first 
 arrival at the Towers. 
 
 These queer happy times ended. 
 
 One day a party of archaeologists came to 
 visit the Towers. They were members of a 
 " Society for Badgering the Proprietors of 
 Old Houses," and they had been lunching at 
 Upton-on-the-Wold. After luncheon they 
 invaded the Towers, personally conducted by 
 Mr. Bulkin, a very learned historian. Bulkin 
 had nearly plucked me in Modern History, 
 and when I heard his voice afar off I arose 
 and fled swiftly. Unluckily the Duchess 
 chanced, by an unprecedented accident, to 
 be in the library, a room which the family 
 never used, and which was, therefore, exhibited 
 to curious strangers. Into this library Bulkin 
 precipitated himself, followed by his admirers, 
 and began to lecture on the family portraits.
 
 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 229 
 
 Beginning with the Crusaders (painted by 
 Lorenzo Credi) he soon got down to modern 
 times. He took no notice of the Duchess, 
 whom he beUeved to be a housekeeper ; but, 
 posting himself between the unfortunate lady 
 and the door, gave a full account of the career 
 of the late Duke. This was more than the 
 Duchess (who knew all about the subject of 
 the lecture) could stand; but ]\Ir. Bulkin, 
 referring her to his own Appendices, finished 
 his address, and offered the Duchess half-a- 
 crown as he led his troop to other victories. 
 From this accident the Duchess never re- 
 covered. Her spirits, at no time high, sank 
 to zero, and she soon passed peacefully away. 
 She left a will in which her personal property 
 (about i^40,ooo a year) was bequeathed to 
 Gwyncth, "as my beloved son, Percy, has 
 enough for his needs," the revenues of the 
 dukedom of Stalybridge being about ^^"300,000 
 per annum before the agricultural depression. 
 She might well have thought I needed no 
 more. Of course I put in no claim for these 
 estates, messuages, farms, mines, and so forth, 
 nor for my hereditary ducal pension of ^i 5,000. 
 But Gwyneth and I are not uncomfortably 
 provided for, and I no longer contribute para^
 
 230 A DUCHESS'S SECRET. 
 
 graphs of gossip to the Pimlico Postboy, nor 
 yet do I vaticinate in the cokunns of the 
 Tipster. Perhaps I ought to have fled from 
 the Towers the morning after my arrival. 
 And I declare that I would have fled but for 
 Gwyneth and " Love, that is a great Master."
 
 THE HOUSE OE STRANGE 
 STORIES.
 
 Tllli IIOUSI-: OF STRANGE 
 STORIES. 
 
 The House of Strange Stories, as I prefer to 
 call it (though it is not known by that name in 
 the county), seems the very place for a ghost. 
 Yet, though so many peoples have dwelt 
 upon its site and in its chambers, though the 
 ancient Elizabethan oak, and all the queer 
 tables and chairs that a dozen generations 
 have bequeathed, might well be tenanted by 
 ancestral spirits, and disturbed by rappings, 
 it is a curious fact that there is not a ghost 
 in the House of Strange Stories. On my 
 earliest visit to this mansion, I was disturbed, 
 I own, by a not unpleasing expectancy. There 
 must, one argued, be a shadowy lady in green 
 in the bedroom, or, just as one was falling
 
 234 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 asleep, the spectre of a Jesuit would creep 
 out of the priest's hole, where he was starved 
 to death in the " spacious times of great 
 Elizabeth," and would search for a morsel of 
 bread. The priest was usually starved out, 
 sentinels being placed in all the rooms and 
 passages, till at last hunger and want of air 
 would drive the wretched man to give him- 
 self up, for the sake of change of wretched- 
 ness. Then perhaps he was hanged, or he 
 " died in our hands," as one of Elizabeth's 
 officers euphemistically put it, when the Jesuit 
 was tortured to death in the Tower. No 
 "House of Seven Gables" across the Atlantic 
 can have quite such memories as these, yet, 
 oddly enough, I do not know of more than 
 one ghost of a Jesuit in all England. He 
 appeared to a learned doctor in a library, 
 and the learned doctor described the phan- 
 tom, not long ago, in the Athcnceuiii. 
 
 " Does the priest of your ' priest-hole ' 
 walk 1 " I asked the squire one winter even- 
 ing in the House of Strange Stories. 
 
 Darkness had come to the rescue of the 
 pheasants about four in the afternoon, and 
 all of us, men and women, were sitting at 
 afternoon tea in the firelit study, drowsily
 
 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 235 
 
 watching the flicker of the flame on the 
 black panelUng. The characters will intro- 
 duce themselves, as they take part in the 
 conversation. 
 
 " No," said the squire, "even the priest docs 
 not walk. Somehow very few of the Jesuits 
 have left ghosts in country houses. They are 
 just the customers you would expect to 
 ' walk,' but they don't." 
 
 There is, to be sure, one priestly ghost- 
 story, which you may or may not know, and 
 I tell it here, though I don't believe it, just as 
 I heard it from the Bishop of Dunchester 
 himself. According to this most affable and 
 distinguished prelate, now no more, he once 
 arrived in a large country house shortly before 
 dinner-time ; he was led to his chamber, he 
 dressed, and went downstairs. Not knowing 
 the plan of the house, he found his way into 
 the library, a chamber lined with the books 
 of many studious generations. Here the 
 learned bishop remained for a few minutes, 
 when the gong sounded for dinner, and a 
 domestic, entering the apartment showed 
 the prelate the way to the drawing-room, 
 where the other guests were now assembled. 
 The bishop, when the company appeared
 
 236 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 complete, and was beginning to manoeuvre 
 towards the dining-room, addressed his host 
 (whom we shall call Lord Birkenhead), and 
 observed that the ecclesiastic had not yet 
 appeared. 
 
 "What ecclesiastic?" asked his lordship. 
 
 " The priest," replied the bishop, " whom I 
 met in the library." 
 
 Upon this Lord Birkenhead's cou/jtenance 
 changed somewhat, and, with a casual remark, 
 he put the question by. After dinner, when 
 the ladies had left the men to their wine, Lord 
 Birkenhead showed some curiosity as to " the 
 ecclesiastic," and learned that he had seemed 
 somewhat shy and stiff, yet had the air of a 
 man just about to enter into conversation. 
 
 " At that moment," said the bishop, " I was 
 summoned to the drawing-room, and did not 
 at first notice that my friend the priest had 
 not followed me. He had an interesting and 
 careworn face," added the bishop. 
 
 " You have certainly seen the family ghost," 
 said Lord Birkenhead ; " he only haunts the 
 library, where, as you may imagine, his retire- 
 ment is but seldom disturbed." And, indeed, 
 >the habits of the great, in England, are not 
 studious, as a rule.
 
 THE HOUSE OE STRAXCE STORIES. 2-57 
 
 "Then I must return, Lord I^irkenhead, to 
 your library," said the bishop, " and that 
 without delay, for this appears to be a matter 
 in which the services of one of the higher 
 clergy, however unworthy, may prove of 
 incalculable benefit." 
 
 "If I could only hope," answered Lord 
 Birkenhead (who was a Catholic) with a deep 
 sigh, " that his reverence would recognize 
 Anglican orders ! " 
 
 The bishop was now, as may be fancied, on 
 his mettle, and without further parley, retired 
 to the library. The rest of the men awaited 
 his return, and beguiled the moments of 
 expectation with princely havannas. 
 
 In about half an hour the bishop reappeared, 
 and a close observer might have detected 
 a shade of paleness on his apostolic features, 
 yet his face was radiant like that of a good 
 man who has performed a good action. 
 Being implored to relieve the anxiety of the 
 company, the worthy prelate spoke as follows : 
 
 "On entering the library, which was 
 illuminated by a single lamp, I found myself 
 alone. I drew a chair to the fire, and, taking 
 up a volume of M. Kenan's which chanced 
 to be lying on the table, I composed myself
 
 238 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 to detect the sophistries of this brilHant but 
 unprincipled writer. Thus, by an effort of 
 will, I distracted myself from that state of 
 'expectant attention' to which modern 
 science attributes such phantoms and spectral 
 appearances as can neither be explained" 
 away by a morbid condition of the liver, nor 
 as caused by the common rat {Mus rattus). 
 I should observe by the way," said the learned 
 bishop, interrupting his own narrative, " that 
 scepticism will in vain attempt to account, 
 by the latter cause, namely rats, for the 
 spectres, Leimires, simulacra, and haunted 
 houses of the ancient Greeks and Romans. 
 With these supernatural phenomena, as they 
 prevailed in Athens and Rome, we are well 
 acquainted, not only from the Mostellaria 
 of Plautus, but from the numerous ghost- 
 stories of Pliny, Plutarch, the PJiilopseudes 
 of Lucian, and similar sources. But it will 
 at once be perceived, and admitted even by 
 candid men of science, that these spiritual 
 phenomena of the classical period cannot 
 plausibly, nor even possibly, be attributed to 
 the agency of rats, when we recall the fact 
 that the rat was an animal unknown to the 
 ancients. As the learned M. Selys Longch
 
 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 23'9 
 
 observes in his Etudes dc Micromammalogic 
 (Paris, 1839, p. 59), 'the origin of the rat is 
 obscure, the one thing certain is that the 
 vermin was unknown to the ancients, and 
 that it arrived in Europe, introduced, perhaps, 
 b>- tlic Crusaders, after the Middle Ages.' 
 I think," added the prelate, looking round, 
 not without satisfaction, " that I have com- 
 pletely disposed of the rat hypothesis, as far, 
 at least, as the ghosts of classical tradition 
 are concerned." 
 
 "Your reasoning, bishop," replied Lord 
 I^irkenhead, " is worthy of your reputation ; 
 but pray pardon the curiosity which entreats 
 you to return from the sinudacra of the past 
 t-o the ghost of the present." 
 
 " I had not long been occupied with M. 
 Renan," said the bishop, thus adjured, " wlien 
 I became aware of the presence of another 
 person in the room. I think my eyes had 
 strayed from the volume, as I turned a page, 
 to the table, on which I perceived the brown 
 strong hand of a young man. Looking up, I 
 beheld my friend the priest, who was indeed 
 a man of some twenty-seven years of age, 
 with a frank and open, though somewhat 
 careworn, aspect. I at once rose, and asked if
 
 240 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES, 
 
 I could be of service to him in anj'thing, and 
 I trust I did not betray any wounding 
 suspicion that he was other than a man of 
 flesh and blood. 
 
 " 'You can, indeed, my lord, relieve me of a 
 great burden,' said the young man, and it 
 was apparent enough that he did acknowledge 
 the validity of Anglican orders. ' Will you 
 kindly take from the shelf that volume of 
 Cicero "De Ofhciis," he said, pointing to a 
 copy of an Elzevir varioriivi edition, — not the 
 small duodecimo Elzevir, — ' remove the paper 
 you will find there, and burn it in the fire on 
 the hearth.' 
 
 " ' Certainly I will do as you say, but will 
 you reward me by explaining the reason of 
 your request ? ' 
 
 " ' In me,' said the appearance, ' you behold 
 Francis Wilton, priest. I was born in 1657, 
 and, after adventures and an education with 
 which I need not trouble you, found myself 
 here as chaplain to the family of the Lord 
 Birkenhead of the period. It chanced one 
 day that I heard in confession, from the 
 lips of Lady Birkenhead, a tale so strange,, 
 moving, and, but for the sacred circumstances 
 of the revelation, so incredible, that my soul
 
 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 241 
 
 had no rest for thinking thereon. At last, 
 neglecting my vow, and fearful that I might 
 become forgetful of any portionof somarvellous 
 a narrative, I took up my pen and committed 
 the confession to the security of manuscript. 
 Litera scripta manet. Scarcely had I finished 
 my unholy task when the sound of a distant 
 horn told me that the hunt (to which pleasure 
 I was passionately given) approached the 
 demesne. I thrust the written confession into 
 that volume of Cicero, hurried to the stable, 
 saddled my horse with my own hands, and 
 rode in the direction whence I heard the 
 music of the hounds. On my way a locked 
 gate barred my progress. I put Rupert at it, 
 he took off badly, fell, and my spirit passed 
 away in the fall. But not to the place of 
 repose did my sinful spirit wing its flight. 
 i found myself here in the library, where, 
 naturally, scarcely any one ever comes except 
 the maids. When I would implore them to 
 destroy the unholy document that binds me 
 to earth, they merely scream ; nor have I 
 found any scion of the house, nor any guest, 
 except your lordship, of more intrepid resolu- 
 tion or more charitable mood. And now, I 
 trust, you will release me.' 
 
 R
 
 242 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 " I rose (for I had seated myself during his 
 narrative), my heart was stirred with pity ; 
 I took down the Cicero, and lit on a sheet of 
 yellow paper covered with faded manuscript, 
 which, of course, I did not read, I turned to 
 the hearth, tossed on the fire the sere old 
 paper, which blazed at once, and then, hearing 
 the words /rt-f vobisaini, I looked round. But 
 I was alone. After a few minutes, devoted 
 to private ejaculations, I returned to the 
 dining-room ; and that is all my story. Your 
 maids need no longer dread the ghost of the 
 library. He is released." 
 
 "Will any one take any more wine?" asked 
 Lord Birkenhead, in tones of deep emotion. 
 " No ? Then suppose we join the ladies." 
 
 " Well," said one of the ladies, the Girton 
 girl, when the squire had finished the prelate's 
 narrative, "/ don't call that much of a story. 
 What was Lady Birkenhead's confession about.'' 
 That's what one really wants to know." 
 
 **The bishop could not possibly have read 
 the paper," said the Bachelor of Arts, one 
 of the guests ; " not as a gentleman, nor a 
 bishop." 
 
 " I wish / had had the chance," said the 
 Girton girl.
 
 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 243 
 
 " Perhaps the confession was in Latin," 
 said the Bachelor of Arts. 
 
 The Girton girl disdained to reply to this 
 unworthy sneer. 
 
 " I have often observed," she said in a 
 reflective voice, " that the most authentic and 
 best attested bogies don't come to very much. 
 They appear in a desultory manner, without 
 any context, so to speak, and, like other 
 difficulties, require a context to clear up their 
 meaning." 
 
 These efforts of the Girton girl to apply 
 the methods of philology to spectres, were 
 received in silence. The women did not 
 understand them, though they had a strong 
 personal opinion about their learned author. 
 
 "The only ghost / ever came across, or, 
 rather, came within measurable distance of, 
 never appeared at all so far as one knew." 
 
 " Miss Lebas has a story," said the squire. 
 " Won't she tell us her story .? " 
 
 The ladies murmured, " Do, please." 
 
 " It really cannot be called a ghost-story," 
 remarked Miss Lebas, " it was only an 
 uncomfortable kind of coincidence, and I 
 never think of it without a shudder. But 
 I know there is not any reason at all why it
 
 244 ^-^^ HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 should make any of yoii, shudder ; so don't be 
 disappointed. 
 
 " It was the Long Vacation before last," 
 said the Girton girl, " and I went on a read- 
 ing-party to Bantry Bay, with Wyndham 
 and Toole of Somerville, and Clare of Lady 
 Margaret's. Leighton coached us." 
 
 " Dear mc ! With all these young men, 
 my dear } " asked the maiden aunt. 
 
 " They were all women of my year, except 
 Miss Leighton of Newnham, who was our 
 coach," answered the Girton girl composedly. 
 
 " Dear me ! I beg your pardon for inter- 
 rupting you," said the maiden aunt. 
 
 " Well, term-time was drawing near, and 
 Bantry Bay was getting pretty cold, when 
 I received an invitation from Lady Garryowen 
 to stay with them at Dundellan on my 
 way south. They were two very dear, old, 
 hospitable Irish ladies, the last of their 
 race, Lady Garryowen and her sister, Miss 
 Patty. They were so hospitable that, though 
 I did not know it, Dundellan was quite full 
 when I reached it, overflowing with young 
 people. The house has nothing very remark- 
 able about it : a grey, plain building, with 
 remains of the chateau about it, and a high
 
 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES, 245 
 
 park wall. In the garden wall there is a 
 small round tower, just like those in the 
 precinct wall at St. Andrews. The ground 
 floor is not used. On the first floor there is 
 a furnished chamber with a deep round niche, 
 almost a separate room, like that in Queen 
 Mary's apartments in Holy Rood. The first 
 floor has long been fitted up as a bedroom 
 and dressing-room, but it had not been 
 occupied, and a curious old spinning-wheel 
 in the corner (which has nothing to do with 
 my story, if }'ou can call it a story), must 
 have been unused since '98, at least. I 
 reached Dublin late — our train should have 
 arrived at half-past six — it was ten before 
 we toiled into the station. The Dundcllan 
 carriage was waiting for me, and, after an 
 hour's drive, I reached the house. The dear 
 old ladies had sat up for me, and I went to 
 bed as soon as possible, in a very comfortable 
 room. I fell asleep at once, and did not 
 waken till broad daylight, between seven and 
 eight, Avhen, as my eyes wandered about, 
 I saw, by the pictures on the .wall, and the 
 names on the books beside my bed, that 
 Miss Patty must have given up her own room 
 to me. I was quite sorry and, as I dressed,
 
 246 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 determined to get her to let mc change into 
 any den rather than accept this sacrifice. 
 I went downstairs, and found breakfast 
 ready, but neither Lady Garryowen nor Miss 
 Patty. Looking out of the window into the 
 garden, I heard, for the only time in my life, 
 the wild Irish keen over the dead, and saw 
 the old nurse wailing and wringing her hands 
 and hurrying to the house. As soon as she 
 entered she told me, with a burst of grief, and 
 in language I shall not try to imitate, that 
 Miss Patty was dead. 
 
 " When I arrived the house was so full that 
 there was literally no room for me. But 
 ' Dundellan was never beaten yet,' the old 
 ladies had said. There was still the room in 
 the tower. But this room had such an evil 
 reputation for being ' haunted ' that the 
 servants could hardly be got to go near it, 
 at least after dark, and the dear old ladies 
 never dreamed of sending any of their guests 
 to pass a bad night in a place with a bad 
 name. Miss Patty, who had the courage of 
 a Bayard, did not think twice. She went 
 herself to sleep in the haunted tower, and left 
 her room to me. And when the old nurse 
 went to call her in the morning, she could
 
 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 247 
 
 not waken Miss Patty. She was dead 
 Heart-disease, they called it. Of course," 
 added the Girton girl, " as I said, it was only 
 a coincidence. But the Irish servants could 
 not be persuaded that Miss Patty had not 
 seen whatever the thing was that they 
 believed to be in the garden tower. I don't 
 know what it was. You see the context was 
 dreadfully vague, a mere fragment." 
 
 There was a little silence after the Girton 
 girl's story. 
 
 " I never heard before in my life," said the 
 maiden aunt, at last, " of any host or hostess 
 who took the haunted room themselves, when 
 the house happened to be full. They always 
 send the stranger within their gates to it, and 
 then pretend to be vastly surprised when he 
 does not have a good night. I had several 
 bad nights myself once. In Ireland too." 
 
 "Tell us all about it, Judy," said her 
 brother, the squire. 
 
 " No," murmured the maiden aunt. " You 
 would only laugh at me. There was no 
 ghost. I didn't hear anything. I didn't see 
 anything. I didn't even smell anything, as 
 they do in that horrid book, 'The Haunted 
 Hotel.' "
 
 248 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 *' Then why had you such bad nights ? " 
 " Oh, I fdtl' said the maiden aunt, with a 
 little shudder. 
 
 " What did yo\x feel, Aunt Judy?" 
 " I knoiv you will laugh," said the maiden 
 aunt, abruptly entering on her nervous 
 narrative.- " I felt all the time as if somebody 
 •was looking through the wiudozv. Now, you 
 know, there couldn't be anybody. It was in 
 an Irish country house where I had just 
 arrived, and my room was on the second 
 floor. The window was old-fashioned and 
 narrow, with a deep recess. As soon as I 
 went to bed, my dears, I felt that some one 
 was looking through the window, and meant 
 to come in. I got up, and bolted the window, 
 though I knew it was impossible for anybody 
 to climb up there, and I drew the curtains, 
 but I could not fall asleep. If ever I began 
 to dose, I would waken with a start, and turn 
 and look in the direction of the window. I 
 did not sleep all night, and next night, though 
 I was dreadfully tired, it was just the same 
 thing. So I had to take my hostess into my 
 confidence, though it was extremely disagree- 
 able, my dears, to seem so foolish. I only 
 told her that I thought the air, or something.
 
 THE HOUSE OE STRANGE STORIES. 249 
 
 must disagree with me, for I could not sleep. 
 Then, as some one was leaving the house that 
 day, she implored me to try another room, 
 where I slept beautifully, and afterwards had 
 a very pleasant visit. But, the day I went 
 away, my hostess asked me if I had been 
 kept awake by anything in particular, for 
 instance, by a feeling that some one was 
 trying to come in at the window. W'ell, 
 I admitted that I Jiad a nervous feeling of 
 that sort, and she said that she was ver)' 
 sorry, and that ever)' one who la)- in the 
 room had exactly the same sensation. She 
 supposed they must all have heard the history 
 of the room, in childhood, and forgotten that 
 they had heard it, and then been consciously 
 reminded of it b)- reflex action. It seems, 
 my dears, that that is the new scientific way 
 of explaining all these things, presentiments 
 and dreams and wraiths, and all that sort 
 of thing. W'e have seen them before, and 
 remember them without being aware of it. 
 So I said I'd never heard the history of the 
 room ; but she said I must have, and so must 
 all the people who felt as if some one was 
 coming in by the window. And I said that 
 it was rather a curious thing they should all
 
 250 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES, 
 
 foi-gct they knew it, and all be reminded of it 
 without being aware of it, and that, if she did 
 not mind, I'd Hke to be reminded of it acrain. 
 So she said that these objections had all been 
 replied to (just as clergymen always say in 
 sermons), and then she told me the history of 
 the room. It only came to this, that, three 
 generations before, the family butler (whom 
 every one had always thought a most steady, 
 respectable man), dressed himself up like a 
 ghost, or like his notion of a ghost, and got 
 a ladder, and came in by the window to steal 
 the diamonds of the lady of the house, and he 
 frightened her to death, poor woman ! That 
 was all. But, ever since, people who sleep in 
 the room don't sleep, so to speak, and keep 
 thinking that some one is coming in by the 
 casement. That's all ; and I told you it was 
 not an interesting story, but perhaps you will 
 find more interest in the scientific explanation 
 of all these things." 
 
 The story of the maiden aunt, so far as it 
 recounted her own experience, did not contain 
 anything to which the judicial faculties of the 
 mind refused assent. Probably the Bachelor 
 of Arts felt that something a good deal more 
 unusual was wanted, for he instantly started
 
 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 251 
 
 without bcirii^ asked, on the followinj:^ narra- 
 tive : — 
 
 "I also was staying," said the liachclor 
 of Arts, "at the home of my friends, the 
 aristocracy in Scotland. The name of the 
 house, and the precise rank in the peerage of 
 my illustrious host, it is not necessary for me 
 to give. All, however, who know those more 
 than feudal and baronial halls, are aware that 
 the front of the castle looks forth on a 
 somewhat narrow drive, bordered by black 
 and funereal pines. On the night of ni}- 
 arrival at the castle, although I went late to 
 bed, I did not feel at all sleepy. Something, 
 perhaps, in the mountain air, or in the 
 vicissitudes of baccarat, may have banished 
 slumber. I had been in luck, and a pile of 
 sovereigns and notes lay, in agreeable con- 
 fusion, on my dressing-table. j\Iy feverish 
 blood declined to be tranquillized, and at 
 last I drew up the blind, threw open the 
 latticed window, and looked out on the drive 
 and the pine-wood. The faint and silvery 
 blue of dawn was just wakening in the sky, 
 and a setting moon hung, with a peculiarly 
 ominous and wasted appearance, above the 
 crests of the forest. But conceive my astoni.sh-
 
 252 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 ment when I beheld, on the drive, and rit^ht 
 under my window, a large and well-appointed 
 hearse, with two white horses, with plumes 
 complete, and attended by mutes, whose 
 black staffs were tipped with silver that 
 glittered pallid in the dawn. 
 
 I exhausted my ingenuity in conjectures as 
 to the presence of this remarkable vehicle 
 with the white horses, so unusual, though, 
 when one thinks of it, so appropriate to the 
 chariot of Death. Could some belated visitor 
 have arrived in a hearse, like the lady in Miss 
 Ferrier's novel ? Could one of the domestics 
 have expired, and was it the intention of my 
 host to have the body thus honourably re- 
 moved without casting a p-loom over his 
 guests } 
 
 Wild as these hypotheses appeared, I could 
 think of nothing better, and was just about 
 to leave the ^\•indow, and retire to bed, when 
 the driver of the strange carriage, who had 
 hitherto sat motionless, turned, and looked 
 me full in the face. Never shall I forget 
 the appearance of this man, whose sallow 
 countenance, close-shaven dark chin, and 
 small, black moustache, combined with I 
 know not what of martial in his air, struck
 
 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 253 
 
 into me a certain indefinable alarm. No 
 sooner had he caught my eye, than he 
 gathered up his reins, just raised his whip, 
 and started the mortuary vehicle at a walk 
 down the road. I followed it with my eyes 
 till a bend in the avenue hid it from my sight. 
 So wrapt up was my spirit in the exercise of 
 the single sense of vision that it was not 
 till the hearse became lost to view that I 
 noticed the entire absence of sound which 
 accompanied its departure. Neither had the 
 bridles and trappings of the white horses 
 jingled as the animals shook their heads, nor 
 had the wheels of the hearse crashed upon 
 the gravel of the avenue. I was compelled 
 by all these circumstances to believe that 
 what I had looked upon was not of this 
 world, and, with a beating heart, I sought 
 refuge in sleep. 
 
 " Next morning, feeling far from refreshed, 
 I arrived among the latest at a breakfast 
 which was a ' desultojy and movable feast. 
 Almost all the men had gone forth to hill, 
 forest, or river, in pursuit of the furred, finned, 
 or feathered denizens of the wilds " 
 
 " You speak," interrupted the schoolboy, 
 " like a printed book ! I like to hear you
 
 254 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 speak like that. Drive on, old man ! Drive 
 on your hearse ! " 
 
 The Bachelor of Arts " drove on," without 
 noticing this interruption. " I tried to ' lead 
 up ' to the hearse," he said, " in conversation 
 with the young ladies of the castle. I 
 endeavoured to assume the languid and 
 preoccupied air of the guest who, in ghost- 
 stories, has had a bad night with the family 
 spectre. I drew the conversation to the topic 
 of apparitions, and even to warnings of death. 
 I knew that every family worthy of the name 
 has its omen : the Oxenhams a white bird, 
 another house a brass band, whose airy music 
 is poured forth by invisible performers, and so 
 on. Of course I expected some one to cry, 
 * Oh, zveve got a hearse with white horses,' 
 for that is the kind of heirloom an ancient 
 house regards with complacent pride. But 
 nobody offered any remarks on the local 
 omen, and even when I drew near the topic 
 pf hearses, one of the girls, my cousin, merely 
 quoted, ' Speak not like a death's-head, good 
 Doll ' (my name is Adolphus), and asked me 
 to play at lawn-tennis. 
 
 In the evening, in the smoking-room, it 
 was no better, nobody had ever heard of
 
 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 255 
 
 an omen in this particular castle. Nay, when 
 I told my story, for it came to that at last, 
 they only laughed at me, and said I must 
 have dreamed it. Of course I expected to 
 be wakened in the night by some awful 
 apparition, but nothing disturbed me. I 
 never slept better, and hearses were the last 
 things I thought of during the remainder 
 of my visit. Months passed, and I had 
 almost forgotten the vision, or dream, for I 
 began to feel apprehensive that, after all, it 
 was a dream. So costly and elaborate an 
 apparition as a hearse with white horses and 
 plumes complete, could never have been got 
 up, regardless of expense, for one occasion 
 only, and to frighten one undergraduate, 
 yet it was certain that the hearse was not 
 * the old family coach.' My entertainers 
 had undeniably never heard of it in their 
 lives before. Even tradition at the castle 
 said nothing of a spectral hearse, though 
 the house was credited with a white lady 
 deprived of her hands, and a luminous 
 boy." 
 
 Here the Bachelor of Arts paused, and a 
 shower of chaff began. 
 
 " Is that really all ? " asked the Girton girl.
 
 256 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 " Why, this is the third ghost-story to-night 
 without any ghost in it ! " 
 
 " I don't remember saying that it zvas a 
 ghost-story," replied the Bachelor of Arts ; 
 " but I thought a little anecdote of a mere 
 ' warning ' might not be unwelcome." 
 
 " But where does the warning come in ? " 
 asked the schoolboy. 
 
 " That's just what I was arriving at," replied 
 the narrator, " when I was interrupted with 
 as little ceremony as if I had been Mr. Glad- 
 stone in the middle of a most important 
 speech. I was going to say that, in the 
 Easter Vacation after my visit to the castle, 
 I went over to Paris with a friend, a fellow of 
 my college. We drove to the Hotel d' Alsace 
 (1 believe there is no hotel of that name ; 
 if there is, I beg the spirited proprietor's 
 pardon, and assure him that nothing personal 
 is intended). We marched upstairs with our 
 bags and baggage, and jolly high stairs they 
 were. When we had removed the soil of 
 travel from our persons, my friend called out 
 to me, ' I say, Jones, why shouldn't we go 
 down by the lift' * ' All right,' said I, 
 
 * "Lift" is English for "elevator," or "elevator" is 
 
 American fur "lift."
 
 THE HOUSE OF STKAXGE STORIES. 257 
 
 and my friend walked to the door of the 
 mechanical apparatus, opened it, and ^ot in. 
 I followed him, when the porter whose 
 business it is to ' personally conduct ' the 
 inmates of the hotel, entered also, and was 
 closing the door. 
 
 " His eyes met mine, and I knew him in a 
 moment. I had seen him once before. His 
 sallow face, black, closely shaven chin, furtive 
 glance, and military bearing, were the face 
 and the glance and bearing of the driver of 
 that awful hearse ! 
 
 " In a moment — more swiftly than I can 
 tell you — I pushed past the man, threw open 
 the door, and just managed, by a violent 
 effort, to drag my friend on to the landing. 
 Then the lift rose with a sudden impulse, fell 
 again, and rushed, with frightful velocity, to 
 the basement of the hotel, whence we heard 
 an appalling crash, followed by groans. We 
 rushed downstairs, and the horrible spectacle 
 of destruction that met our eyes I shall never 
 forget. The unhappy porter was expiring in 
 agony ; but the warning had saved my life 
 and my friend's." 
 
 " / ivas that friend^'' said I — the collector 
 
 S
 
 258 THE HOUSE OF STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 of these anecdotes ; " and so far I can 
 testify to the truth of Jones's story." 
 
 At this moment, however, the gong for 
 dressing sounded, and we went to our several 
 apartments, after this emotional specimen of 
 " Evenings at Home."
 
 IN CASTLE PERILOUS.
 
 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 " What we suffer from most," said the 
 spectre, when I had i)artly recovered from 
 my fright, "is a kind oi aphasia." 
 
 The spectre was sitting on the armchair 
 beside my bed in the haunted room of Castle 
 Perilous. 
 
 " I don't know," said I, as distinctly as the 
 chattering of my teeth would permit, " that I 
 quite follow you. Would you mind — excuse 
 me — handing me that flask which lies on the 
 table near you. , . . Thanks." 
 
 The spectre, without stirring, so arranged 
 the a priori sensuous schemata of time and 
 space * that the silver flask, which had been 
 well out of my reach, was in my hand. I 
 poured half the contents into a cup and 
 offered it to him. 
 
 * This article was originally written for "Mind," but the 
 aiiihor changed his. The reference is to Kant's Philosophy.
 
 262 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 " No spirits," he said curtly. 
 
 I swallowed eagerly the heady liquor, and 
 felt a little more like myself. 
 
 "You were complaining," I remarked, "of 
 something like aphasia?" 
 
 " I was," he replied. " You know what 
 aphasia is in the human subject ? A paralysis 
 of certain nervous centres, which prevents the 
 patient, though perfectly sane, from getting at 
 the words which he intends to use, and forces 
 others upon him. He may wish to observe 
 that it is a fine morning, and may discover 
 that his idea has taken the form of an ob- 
 servation about the Roman Calendar under 
 the Emperor Justinian. That is aphasia, and 
 we suffer from what, I presume, is a spiritual 
 modification of that disorder." 
 
 " Yet to-night," I responded, " you are 
 speaking like a printed book." 
 
 " To-night," said the spectre, acknowledg- 
 ing the compliment with a bow, " the con- 
 ditions are peculiarly favourable." 
 
 " Not to me" I thought, with a sigh. 
 
 "And I am able to manifest myself with 
 unusual clearness." 
 
 " Then you are not always in such form^ as 
 I am privileged to find you in ? " I inquired.
 
 JN CASTLE PERILOUS. 263 
 
 " By no means," replied the spectre. 
 " Sometimes I cannot appear worth a cent. 
 Often I am invisible to the naked eye, and 
 even quite indiscernible by any of the 
 senses. Sometimes I can only rap on the 
 table, or send a cold wind over a visitor's 
 face, or at most pull off his bedclothes (like 
 the spirit which appeared to Caligula, and is 
 mentioned by Suetonius) and utter hollow 
 groans." 
 
 " That's exactly what you didl' I said, 
 " when you wakened me. I thought I should 
 have died." 
 
 " I can't say how distressed I am," answered 
 the spectre. "It is just an instance of what 
 I was trying to explain. We don't know 
 how we are going to manifest ourselves." 
 
 " Don't apologize," I replied, " for a consti- 
 tutional peculiarity. To what do you attri- 
 bute your success to night .'* " 
 
 "Partly to your extremely receptive con- 
 dition, partly to the whisky you took in the 
 smoking-room, but chiefly to the magnetic 
 environment." 
 
 "Then you do not suffer at all from aphasia 
 just now?" 
 
 " Not a touch of it at this moment, thank
 
 264 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 3-011 ; but, as a rule, we all do suffer horribly. 
 This accounts for everything that you cm- 
 bodied spirits find remarkable and enigmatic 
 in our conduct. We mean something, straight 
 enough ; but our failure is in expression. 
 Just think how often you go wrong your- 
 selves, though your spirits have a brain to 
 play on, like the musician with a piano. Now 
 we have to do as well as wc can without any 
 such mechanical advantage as a brain of 
 cellular tissue " — here he suddenly took the 
 form of a white lady with a black sack over 
 her head, and disappeared in the wainscot, 
 
 " Excuse me," he said a moment after- 
 wards, quite in his ordinary voice, " I had a 
 touch of it, I fancy. I lost the thread of my 
 argument, and am dimly conscious of having 
 expressed myself in some unusual and more 
 or less incoherent fashion. I hope it was 
 nothing at all vulgar or distressing t " 
 
 "Nothing out of the way in haunted houses, 
 I assure you," I replied, " merely a white lad}' 
 with a black sack over her head." 
 
 " Oh, t/mt was it," he answered with a sigh ; 
 " I often am afflicted in that way; Don't 
 mind me if I turn into a luminous boy, or a 
 very old man in chains, or a lady in a green
 
 ly CASTLE PERILOUS. 263 
 
 gown and high-heeled shoes, or a headless 
 horseman, or a Mauth-hound, or anything of 
 that sort. They are all quite imperfect ex- 
 pressions of our nature, — symptoms, in short, 
 of the malady I mentioned." 
 
 "Then the appalling manifestations to 
 which you allude are not the apparitions of 
 the essential ghost? It is not in those forms 
 that he appears among his friends .-' " 
 
 "Certainly not," said the spectre; "and it 
 would be very promotive of good feeling be- 
 tween men and disembodied spirits if this 
 were more generally known. I myself " 
 
 Here he was interrupted by an attack of 
 spirit rappings. A brisk series of sharp faint 
 taps, of a kind I never heard before, re- 
 sounded from all the furniture of the room.* 
 While the disturbance continued, the spectre 
 drummed nervously with his fingers on his 
 knee. The sounds ended as suddenly as 
 they had begun, and he expressed his regrets. 
 " It is a thing I am subject to," he remarked ; 
 "nervous, I believe, but, to persons unaccus- 
 tomed to it, alarming." 
 
 " It is rather alarming," I admitted. 
 
 * A similar phenomenon is mentioned in Mr. Howell's 
 learned treatise, "An Undiscovered Country."
 
 266 IM CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 " A mere fit of sneezing," he went on ; 
 " but you are now able to judge, from the 
 events of to-night, how extremely hard it is 
 for us, with the best intentions, to communi- 
 cate coherently with the embodied world. 
 Why, there is the Puddifant ghost — in Lord 
 Puddifant's family, you know : /le has been 
 trying for generations to inform his descen- 
 dants that the drainage of the castle is exe- 
 crable. Yet he can never come nearer what 
 he means than taking the form of a shadowy 
 hearse-and-four, and driving round and round 
 Castle Puddifant at midnight. And old Lady 
 Wadham's ghost, what a sufferer that woman 
 is ! She merely desires to remark that the 
 family diamonds, lost many years ago, were 
 never really taken abroad by the valet and 
 sold. He only had time to conceal them in a 
 secret drawer behind the dining-room chimney- 
 piece. Now she can get no nearer expressing 
 herself than producing a spirited imitation of 
 the music of the bagpipes, which wails up 
 and down the house, and frightens the present 
 Sir Robert Wadham and his people nearly 
 out of their wits. And that's the way with 
 almost all of us : there is literally no con- 
 nection (as a rule) between our expressions
 
 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 267 
 
 and the things we intend to express. You 
 know how the Psychical Society make quite 
 a study of rappings, and try to interpret 
 them by the alphabet ? Well, these, as I 
 told you, are merely a nervous symptom ; 
 annoying, no doubt, but not dangerous. The 
 only spectres, almost, that manage to hint 
 what they really mean are Banshees." 
 
 " TJicy intend to herald an approaching 
 death t " I asked. 
 
 " They do, and abominably bad taste I call 
 it, unless a man has neglected to insure his 
 life, and then I doubt if a person of honour 
 could make use of information from — from 
 that quarter. Banshees are chiefly the spec- 
 tres of attached and anxious old family 
 nurses, women of the lower orders, and com- 
 pletely destitute of tact. I call a Banshee 
 rather a curse than a boon and a blessing to 
 men. Like most old family servants, they 
 are apt to be presuming." 
 
 It occurred to me that the complacent 
 spectre himself was not an unmixed delight 
 to the inhabitants of Castle Perilous, or at 
 least to their guests, for they never lay in the 
 Green Chamber themselves. 
 
 " Can nothing be done," I asked sympa-
 
 268 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 thetically, "to alleviate the disorders which you 
 say are so common and distressing ? " 
 
 "The old system of spiritual physic," 
 replied the spectre, " is obsolete, and the holy- 
 water cure, in particular, has almost ceased to 
 number any advocates, except the Rev. Dr 
 F. G. Lee, whose books," said this candid 
 apparition, " appear to me to indicate super- 
 stitious credulity. No, I don't know that any 
 new discoveries have been made in this 
 branch of therapeutics. In the last genera- 
 tion they tried to bolt me with a bishop : like 
 putting a ferret into a rabbit-warren, you 
 know. Nothing came of that, and lately the 
 Psychical Society attempted to ascertain my 
 weight by an ingenious mechanism. But 
 they prescribed nothing, and made me feel so 
 nervous that I was rapping at large, and 
 knocking furniture about for months. The 
 fact is that nobody understands the com- 
 plaint, nor can detect the cause that makes 
 the ghost of a man who was perfectly rational 
 in life behave like an uneducated buffoon 
 afterwards. The real reason, as I have tried 
 to explain to you, is a solution of continuity 
 between subjective thought and will on the 
 side of the spectre, and objective expression 
 of them — confound it "
 
 IN CASTLE PE KILO US. 269 
 
 Mere he vanished, and the sound of heavy 
 feet was heard promenading the room, and 
 balls of incandescent light floated about irre- 
 solutely, accompanied by the appearance of 
 a bearded man in armour. The door (which 
 I had locked and bolted before going to bed) 
 kept opening and shutting rapidly, so as to 
 cause a draught, and my dog fled under the 
 bed with a long low howl. 
 
 " I do hope," remarked the spectre, pre- 
 sently reappearing, "that these interruptions 
 (only fresh illustrations of our malady) have 
 not frightened your dog into a fit. I have 
 known very valuable and attached dogs ex- 
 pire of mere unreasoning terror on similar 
 unfortunate occasions." 
 
 "I'm sure I don't wonder at it," I replied ; 
 " but I believe Bingo is still alive ; in fact, I 
 hear him scratching himself." 
 
 "Would you like to examine him?" asked 
 the soectre. 
 
 A. 
 
 "Oh, thanks, I am sure he is all right," 
 I answered (for nothing in the world would 
 have induced me to get out of bed while he 
 was in the room). " Do you object to a 
 cigarette ? " 
 
 " Not at all, not at all ; but Lady Perilous,
 
 2-jo IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 I assure you, is a very old-fashioned chate- 
 laine. However, \{ yoiL choose to risk it " 
 
 I found my cigarette-case in my hand, 
 opened it, and selected one of its contents 
 which I placed between my lips. As I was 
 looking round for a match-box, the spectre 
 courteously put his forefinger to the end of 
 the cigarette, which lighted at once. 
 
 " Perhaps you wonder," he remarked, " why 
 I remain at Castle Perilous, the very one of 
 all my places which I never could bear while 
 I was alive — as you call it .'' " 
 
 "I had a delicacy about asking," I answered. 
 
 "Well," he continued, "I am the family 
 genius." 
 
 " I might have guessed that^' I said. 
 
 He bowed and went on. " It is hereditary 
 in our house, and I hold the position of 
 genius till I am relieved. For example, 
 when the family want to dig up the buried 
 treasure under the old bridge, I thunder and 
 lighten and cause such a storm that they 
 desist." 
 
 "Why on earth do you do that?" I asked. 
 " It seems hardly worth while to have a 
 genius at all." 
 
 " In the interests of the family morality.
 
 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 271 
 
 The money would soon go on the turf, and 
 on dice, drink, etc., if they excavated it ; and 
 then I work the curse, and bring off the 
 prophecies, and so forth." 
 
 " What prophecies ? " 
 
 " Oh, the rigmarole the old family seer 
 came out with before they burned him for an 
 unpalatable prediction at the time of the '15. 
 He was very much vexed about it, of course, 
 and he just prophesied any nonsense of a 
 disagreeable nature that came into his head. 
 You know what these crofter fellows are — 
 ungrateful, vindictive rascals. He had been 
 in receipt of outdoor relief for years. Well, 
 he prophesied stuff like this : ' When the owl 
 and the eagle meet on the same blasted 
 rowan tree, then a lassie in a white hood 
 from the east shall make the burn of Cross- 
 cleugh run full red,' and drivel of that insane 
 kind. Well, you can't think what trouble 
 that particular prophecy gave me. It had to 
 be fulfilled, of course, for the family credit, 
 and I brought it off as near as, I flatter my- 
 self, it could be done." 
 
 " Lady Perilous was telling me about it last 
 night," I said, with a shudder. " It was a 
 horrible affair."
 
 272 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 " Yes, no doubt, no doubt ; a cruel busi- 
 ness ! But how I am to manage some of 
 them I'm sure / don't know. There's one of 
 them in rhyme. Let me see, how does it go ? 
 
 " ' When Mackenzie lies in the perilous ha', 
 The wild Red Cock on the roof shall craw, 
 And the lady shall flee ere the day shall daw, 
 And the laird shall girn in the deed man's thraw.' 
 
 " The ' crowing of the wild Red Cock ' means 
 that the castle shall be burned down, of 
 course (I'm beginning to know his style by 
 this time), and the lady is to elope, and the 
 laird — that's Lord Perilous — is to expire in 
 the ' deed man's thraw ' : that is the name 
 the old people give the Secret Room. And 
 all this is to happen when a Mackenzie, a 
 member of a clan with which we are at feud, 
 sleeps in the Haunted Chamber — where we 
 are just now. By the way, what is your 
 name?" 
 
 I don't know what made me reply, "Allan 
 Mackenzie." It -was true, but it was not 
 politic. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said the spectre, eagerly. 
 " Here's a chance ! I don't suppose a Mac- 
 kenzie has slept here for those hundred years. 
 And now, how is it to be done ? Setting fire
 
 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 273 
 
 to the castle is simple " — here I remembered 
 how he had lighted my cigarette — "but who 
 on earth is to elope with Lady Perilous ? 
 She's fifty if she's a day, and evangelical 
 a tout casser ! Oh no ; the thing is out of 
 the question. It really must be put off for 
 another generation or two. There is no 
 hurry." 
 
 I felt a good deal relieved. He was clearly 
 a being of extraordinary powers, and might, 
 for anything I knew, have made me run away 
 with Lady Perilous. And then, when the 
 pangs of remorse began to tell on her lady- 
 ship, never a very lively woman at the best of 
 
 times However, the spectre seemed to 
 
 have thought better of it. 
 
 "Don't you think it is rather hard on a 
 family," I asked, " to have a family genius, 
 and prophecies, and a curse, and " 
 
 "And everything handsome about them," 
 he interrupted me by exclaiming; "and you 
 call yourself a Mackenzie of Megasky? 
 What has become of family pride? Why, 
 you yourselves have Gruagach of the Red 
 Hand in the hall, and he, I can tell you, is a 
 very different sort of spectre from me. Pre- 
 Christian, you know — one of the oldest ghosts 
 
 T
 
 274 /-V CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 in Ross-shire. But as to 'hard on a family/ 
 why, noblesse oblige." 
 
 " Considering that you arc the family 
 genius, you don't seem to have brought them 
 much luck," I put in, for the house of Perilous 
 is neither rich in gold nor very distinguished 
 in history. 
 
 "Yes, but just think what they would have 
 been without a family genius, if they are 
 what they are with one ! Besides, the pro- 
 phecies are really responsible," he added, with 
 the air of one who says, " I have a partner — 
 Mr. Jorkins." 
 
 "Do you mind telling me one thing?" I 
 asked eagerly. " What is the mystery of the 
 Secret Chamber — I mean the room whither 
 the heir is taken when he comes of age, and 
 he never smiles again, nor touches a card 
 except at baccarat ? " 
 
 "Never smiles again/" said the spectre. 
 "Doesn't he.? Are you quite certain that he 
 ever smiled before ? " 
 
 This was a new way of looking at the 
 question, and rather disconcerted me. 
 
 " I did not know the Master of Perilous 
 before he came of age," said I ; " but I have 
 been here for a week, and watched him and
 
 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 275 
 
 Lord Perilous, and I never observed a smile 
 wander over their lips. And yet little Tomp- 
 kins" (he was the chief social buffoon of 
 the hour) " has been in great force, and I 
 may say that I myself have occasionally pro- 
 voked a grin from the good-natured." 
 
 "That's just it," said the spectre. "The 
 Perilouses have no sense of humour — never 
 had. I am entirely destitute of it myself 
 Even in Scotland, even here, this family failing 
 has been remarked — been the subject, I ma)- 
 say, of unfavourable comment. The Perilous 
 of the period lost his head because he did not 
 see the point of a conundrum of Macbeth's. 
 We felt, some time in the fifteenth century, 
 that this peculiarity needed to be honourably 
 accounted for, and the family developed that 
 story of the Secret Chamber, and the Horror 
 in the house. There is nothing in the cham- 
 ber whatever, — neither a family idiot aged 
 three hundred years, nor a skeleton, nor the 
 devil, nor a wizard, nor missing title-deeds. 
 The affair is a mere formality to account 
 creditably for the fact that we never see any- 
 thing to laugh at — never see the joke. Some 
 people can't see ghosts, you know " (luck}- 
 people! thought I), "and some can't see jokes."
 
 276 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 " This is very disappointing," I said. 
 
 " I can't help it," said the spectre ; " the 
 truth often is. Did you ever hear the ex- 
 planation of the haunted house in Berkeley 
 Square ? " 
 
 ' Yes," said I. " The bell was heard to 
 ring thrice with terrific vehemence, and on 
 rushing to the fatal scene they found him 
 beautiful in death." 
 
 " Fudge ! " replied the spectre. " The lease 
 and furniture were left to an old lady, who 
 was not to underlet the house nor sell the 
 things. She had a house of her own in 
 Albemarle Street which she preferred, and so 
 the house in Berkeley Square was never let 
 till the lease expired. That's the whole affair. 
 The house was empty, and political economists 
 could conceive no reason for the waste of 
 rent except that it was haunted. The rest 
 was all Miss Broughton's imagination, in 
 ' Tabs for Christmas Eve.' " 
 
 He had evidently got on his hobby, and 
 was beginning to be rather tedious. The 
 contempt which a genuine old family ghost 
 has for mere parvenus and impostors is not 
 to be expressed in mere words apparently, for 
 Mauth-hounds of prodigious size and black-
 
 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 277 
 
 ncss, with white birds, and other disastrous 
 omens, now began to display themselves 
 profusely in the Haunted Chamber. Accus- 
 tomed as I had become to regard all these 
 appearances as mere automatic symptoms, 
 I confess that I heard with pleasure the crow 
 of a distant cock. 
 
 " You have enabled me to pass a most 
 instructive evening, most agreeable, too, I 
 am sure," I remarked to the spectre, " but you 
 will pardon me for observing that the first 
 cock has gone. Don't let me make you too 
 late for any appointment you may have about 
 this time — anywhere." 
 
 " Oh, you still believe in that old super- 
 stition about cock-crow, do you .^ " he sneered. 
 " ' I thought you had been too well educated. 
 ' It faded on the crowing of the cock,' did 
 it, indeed, and that in Denmark too, — almost 
 within the Arctic Circle ! Why, in those 
 high latitudes, and in summer, a ghost would 
 not have an hour to himself on these principles. 
 Don't you remember the cock Lord Dufferin 
 took North with him, w^hich crowed at sun- 
 rise, and ended by crowing without inter- 
 mission and going mad, when the sun did 
 not set at all .'' You must observe that any
 
 278 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 rule of that sort about cock-crow would lead 
 to shocking irregularities, and to an early- 
 closing movement for spectres in summer, 
 which would be ruinous to business — simply- 
 ruinous — and, in these days of competition, 
 intolerable." 
 
 This was awful, for I could see no way 
 of getting rid of him. He might stay to 
 breakfast, or anything. 
 
 " By the way," he asked, " who does the 
 Cock at the Lyceum just now } It is a small 
 but very exacting part — 'Act I. scene i. 
 Cock crows,' " 
 
 " I believe Mr. Irving has engaged a real 
 fowl, to crow at the right moment behind the 
 scenes," I said. " He is always very particular 
 about these details. Quite right too. ' The 
 Cock, by kind permission of the Aylesbury 
 Dairy Company,' is on the bills. They have 
 no Cock at the Francais ; Mounet Sullv 
 would not hear of it." 
 
 I knew nothing about it, but if this detest- 
 able spectre was going to launch out concern- 
 ing art and the drama there would be no sleep 
 for me. 
 
 " Then the glow-worm," he said — " have 
 they a real glow-worm for the Ghost's 'busi- 
 ness ' (Act I. scene 5) when he says ? — •
 
 IN CASTLE PERILOUS. 279 
 
 " * Fare thee well at once, 
 The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, 
 And 'gins to pale liis ineffectual fire.' 
 
 Did it ever strike you how inconsistent that 
 is ? Clearly the ghost appeared in winter ; 
 don't you remember how they keep com- 
 plaining of the weather ? 
 
 " ' For this relief much tlianks ; 'tis bitter cold,' 
 and 
 
 '* ' The air bites shrewdly ; it is very cold.' " 
 
 " Horatio blows on his hands to warm 
 them, at the Fran^ais," I interrupted. 
 
 " Quite right ; good business," said he ; 
 " and yet they go on about the glow-worms 
 in the neighbourhood ! Most incongruous. 
 How does Furnivall take it .> An interpola- 
 tion by Middleton ? " 
 
 I don't like to be rude, but I admit that 
 I hate being bothered about Shakespeare, and 
 I yawned. 
 
 " Good night," he said snappishly, and was 
 gone. 
 
 Presently I heard him again, just as I was 
 dropping into a doze. 
 
 " You won't think, in the morning, that this 
 was all a dream, will you ? Can I do any- 
 thing to impress it on your memory ? Sup-
 
 28o Ii\ CASTLE PERILOUS. 
 
 pose T shrivel your left wrist with a touch 
 of my hand ? Or shall I leave ' a sable score 
 of fingers four ' burned on the table ? Some- 
 thing of that sort is usually done." 
 
 " Oh, pray don't take the trouble," I said. 
 " I'm sure Lady Perilous would not like to 
 have the table injured, and she might not 
 altogether believe my explanation. As for 
 myself, I'll be content with your word for it 
 that you were really here. Can I bury your 
 bones for you, or anything ? Very well, as 
 you must be off, good night ! " 
 
 " No, thanks," he replied. " By the way, 
 I've had an idea about my apparitions in 
 disguise. Perhaps it is my ' Unconscious 
 Self that does them. You have read about 
 the 'Unconscious Self in the Spectator?" 
 
 Then he really went. 
 
 A nun in grey, who moaned and wrung 
 her hands, remained in the room for a short 
 time, but was obviously quite automatic. 
 
 I slept till the hot water was brought in 
 the morning.
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE 
 MYTH.
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE 
 MYTH.* 
 
 In the post-Christian myths of the Teutonic 
 race settled in England, no figure appears 
 more frequently and more mysteriously than 
 that of Gladstone or Mista Gladstone. To 
 unravel the true germinal conception of Glad- 
 stone, and to assign to all the later accretions 
 of myth their proi'enance and epoch, are the 
 problems attempted in this chapter. It is 
 almost needless (when we consider the per- 
 versity of men and the lasting nature of 
 prejudice) to remark that some still see in 
 Gladstone a shadowy historical figure. Just 
 as our glorious mythical Bismarck has been 
 
 * A chapter from Prof. Boscher's "Post-Christian Myth- 
 ology." Berlin and New York, A. D. 3886.
 
 284 THE GREAT GLADSTOAE MYTH. 
 
 falsely interpreted as the shadowy traditional 
 Arminius (the Arminius of Tacitus, not of 
 Leo Adolescens), projected on the mists of the 
 Brocken, so Gladstone has been recognized as 
 a human hero of the Fourth Dynasty, In this 
 capacity he has been identified with Gordon 
 (probably the north wind), with Spurgeon,* 
 whom I have elsewhere shown to be a river 
 god, and with Livingstone. In the last case 
 the identity of the suffix "stone," and the 
 resemblance of the ideas of "joy " and of 
 " vitality," lend some air of speciousness to a 
 fundamental error. Livingstone is oluie ziveifel, 
 a mythical form of the midnight sun, now 
 fabled to wander in the "Dark Continent," 
 as Bishop of Natal, the land of the sun's 
 birthplace, now alluded to as lost in the cloud- 
 land of comparative mythology. Of all these 
 cobwebs spun by the spiders of sciolism, the 
 Euhemeristic or Spencerian view — that Glad- 
 stone is an historical personage — has attracted 
 most attention. Unluckily for its advocates, 
 the whole contemporary documents of the 
 Victorian Dynasty have perished. When an 
 over-educated and over-rated populace, headed 
 
 * Both these names are undoubtedly Greek neuter substan- 
 tives.
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 285 
 
 by two mythical figures, Wat Tyler and one 
 Jo,* rose in fury against the School Boards 
 and the Department, they left nothing but 
 tattered fragments of the literature of the 
 time. Consequently we are forced to recon- 
 struct the Gladstonian myth by the compara- 
 tive method — that is, by comparing the relics 
 of old Ritual treatises, hymns, imprecations, 
 and similar religious texts, with works of 
 art, altars, and statues, and with popular 
 traditions and folklore. The results, again, 
 are examined in the light of the Vedas, the 
 Egyptian monuments, and generally of every- 
 thing that, to the unscientific eye, seems most 
 turbidly obscure in itself, and most hopelessly 
 remote from the subject in hand. The aid 
 of Philology will not be rejected because 
 Longus, or Longinus, hasf meanly argued 
 that her services must be accepted with 
 cautious diffidence. On the contrary, Phil- 
 ology is the only real key to the labyrinths 
 of post-Christian myth. 
 
 The philological analysis of the name of 
 
 * Lieblein speaks (" Egyptian Religion," 1884, Leipzig,) 
 of " the mythical name Jo." Already had Continental 
 savants dismissed the belief in a historical Jo, a leader of the 
 Demos. 
 
 t There seems to be some mistake here.
 
 2S6 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 
 
 Gladstone is attempted, with very various 
 results, by Roth, Kuhn, Schwartz, and other 
 contemporary descendants of the old scholars. 
 Roth finds in " Glad " the Scotch word 
 " gled," a hawk or falcon. He then adduces 
 the examples of the Hawk-Indra, from the 
 Rig Veda, and of the Hawk-headed Osiris, 
 both of them indubitably personifications of 
 the sun. On the other hand, Kuhn, with 
 Schwartz, fixes his attention on the suffix 
 " stone," and quotes, from a fragment attri- 
 buted to Shakespeare, " the all-dreaded 
 thunder-stone." Schwartz and Kuhn con- 
 clude, in harmony with their general system, 
 that Gladstone is really and primarily the 
 thunderbolt, and secondarily the spirit of the 
 tempest. They quote an isolated line from 
 an early lay about the " Pilot who weathered 
 the storm," which they apply to Gladstone in 
 his human or political aspect, when the storm- 
 spirit had been anthropomorphised, and was 
 regarded as an ancestral politician. But such 
 scanty folklore as we possess assures us that 
 the storm, on the other hand, weathered Glad- 
 stone ; and that the poem quoted refers to 
 quite another person, also named William, 
 and probably identical with William Tell —
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 287 
 
 that is, with the sun, which of course brings 
 us back to Roth's view of the hawk, or solar 
 Gladstone, though this argument in his own 
 favour has been neglected by the learned 
 mythologist. He might also, if he cared, 
 adduce the solar stone of Delphi, fabled to 
 have been swallowed by Cronus. Kuhn. 
 indeed, lends an involuntary assent to this 
 conclusion {Ueber Entivick. der Myt/i.) when 
 he asserts that the stone swallowed by Cronus 
 was the setting sun. Thus we have only to 
 combine our information to see how correct 
 is the view of Roth, and how much to be 
 preferred to that of Schwartz and Kuhn. 
 Gladstone, philologically considered, is the 
 " hawkstone," combining with the attributes 
 of the Ilawk-Indra and Hawk-Osiris those 
 of the Delphian sun-stone, which we also 
 find in the Egyptian Ritual for the Dead.* 
 The ludicrous theory that Gladstone is a 
 territorial surname, derived from some place 
 Q' G\eds\.dinQ" Falke?istei?i\cz.r\ only be broached 
 by men ignorant of even the grammar of 
 science ; dabblers who mark with a pencil 
 
 * " Le pierre sort! du soleil se retrouve au Livre des 
 Souffles." Lefebure, "Osiris," p. 204. Brugsch, " Shai-n. 
 sinsin," i. 9.
 
 288 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 
 
 the pages of travellers and missionaries. We 
 conclude, then, that Gladstone is, primarily, 
 the hawk-sun, or sun-hawk. 
 
 From philology we turn to the examination 
 of literary fragments, which will necessarily 
 establish our already secured position (that 
 Gladstone is the sun), or so much the worse 
 for the fragments. These have reached us 
 in the shape of burned and torn scraps of 
 paper, covered with printed texts, which 
 resolve themselves into hymns, and impreca- 
 tions or curses. It appears to have been the 
 custom of the worshippers of Gladstone to 
 salute his rising, at each dawn, with printed 
 outcries of adoration and delight, resembling 
 in character the Osirian hymns. These are 
 sometimes couched in rhythmical language, 
 as when we read — 
 
 "[Gla] dstone, the pillar of the People's hopes,"— 
 
 to be compared with a very old text, referring 
 obscurely to " the People's William," and 
 " a popular Bill," doubtless one and the same 
 thing, as has often been remarked. Among 
 the epithets of Gladstone which occur in the 
 hymns, we find "versatile," "accomplished," 
 "philanthropic," "patriotic," "statesmanlike,"
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 289 
 
 "subtle," "eloquent," "illustrious," "persuasive," 
 " brilliant," "clear," "unambiguous," "resolute." 
 All of those are obviously intelligible only 
 when applied to the sun. At the same time 
 we note a fragmentary curse of the greatest 
 importance, in which Gladstone is declared 
 to be the beloved object of " the Divine 
 Figure from the North," or " the Great White 
 Czar." This puzzled the learned, till a frag- 
 ment of a mythological disquisition was 
 recently unearthed. In this tc.vt it was stated, 
 on the authority of Brinton, that " the Great 
 White Hare" worshipped by the Red Indians 
 was really, when correctly understood, the 
 Dawn. It is needless to observe (when one 
 is addressing students) that " Great White 
 Hare" (in Algonkin, Manibozho) becomes 
 Great White Czar in Victorian English. 
 Thus the Divine Figure from the North, or 
 White Czar, with whom Gladstone is mythi- 
 cally associated, turns out to be the Great 
 White Hare, or Dawn Hero, of the Algonkins. 
 The sun (Gladstone) may naturally and 
 reasonably be spoken of in mythical language 
 as the " Friend of the Dawn." This proverbial 
 expression came to be misunderstood, and we 
 hear of a Liberal statesman, Gladstone, and 
 
 u
 
 290 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 
 
 of his affection for a Russian despot. The 
 case is analogous to Apollo's fabled love for 
 Daphne = Dahana, the Dawn. While frag- 
 ments of laudatory hymns are common 
 enough, it must not be forgotten that dirges 
 or curses {Dira) are also discovered in the 
 excavations. These Dircs were put forth both 
 morning and evening, and it is interesting to 
 note that the imprecations vented at sunset 
 (" evening papers," in the old mythical lan- 
 guage) are even more severe and unsparing 
 than those uttered (" morning papers ") at 
 dawn. 
 
 How are the imprecations to be explained } 
 The explanation is not difficult, nothing is 
 difficult — to a comparative mythologist. 
 Gladstone is the sun, the enemy of Darkness. 
 But Darkness has her worshippers as well as 
 Light. Set, no less than Osiris, was adored 
 in the hymns of Egypt, perhaps by kings of 
 an invading Semitic tribe. Now there can 
 be no doubt that the enemies of Gladstone, 
 the Rishis, or hymn-writers who execrated 
 him, were regarded by his worshippers as a 
 darkened class, foes of enlightenment. They 
 are spoken of as "the stupid party," as 
 " obscurantist," and so forth, with the usual
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 291 
 
 amenity of theological controversy. It would 
 be painful, and is unnecessary, to quote from 
 the curses, whether matins or vespers, of 
 the children of night. Their language is 
 terribly severe, and, doubtless, was regarded 
 as blasphemy by the sun-worshippers, Glad- 
 stone is said to have " no conscience," " no 
 sense of honour," to be so fugitive and evasive 
 in character, that one might almost think the 
 moon, rather than the sun, was the topic 
 under discussion. But, as Roth points out, 
 this is easily explained when we remember 
 the vicissitudes of English weather, and the 
 infrequent appearances of the sun in that 
 climate. By the curses, uttered as they were 
 in the morning, when night has yielded to the 
 star of day, and at ev'ening, when day is, in 
 turn, vanquished by night, our theory of the 
 sun Gladstone is confirmed beyond reach of 
 cavil ; indeed, the solar theory is no longer a 
 theory, but a generally recognized fact. 
 
 Evidence, which is bound to be confirma- 
 tory, reaches us from an altar and from works 
 of art. The one altar of Gladstone is by some 
 explained as the pedestal of his statue, while 
 the anthropological sciolists regard it simply 
 as a milestone ! In speaking to archae-
 
 292 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 
 
 ologists it is hardly necessary even to touch 
 on this preposterous fallacy, sufficiently con- 
 futed by the monument itself 
 
 On the road into western England, between 
 tlie old sites of Bristol and London, excava- 
 tions recently laid bare the very interesting 
 monument figured here. 
 
 Though some letters or hieroglyphs are 
 defaced, there can be no doubt that the 
 inscription is correctly read G. O. M. The 
 explanation which I have proposed {Zeitschrift 
 fiir Aug. Ant.) is universally accepted by 
 scholars. I read Gladstonio Optimo Maximo, 
 " To Gladstone, Best and Greatest," a form 
 of adoration, or adulation, which survived 
 in England (like municipal institutions, the 
 game laws, and trial by jury) from the date 
 of the Roman occupation. It is a plausible 
 conjecture that Gladstone stepped into the
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH 293 
 
 shoes of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. Hence 
 we may regard him (Hke Osiris) as the sum 
 of the monotheistic conception in England. 
 
 This interpretation is so manifest, that, 
 could science sneer, we might laugh at the 
 hazardous conjectures of smatterers. They, 
 as usual, are greatly divided among them- 
 selves. The Spencerian or Euhemeristic 
 .school, — if that can be called a school 
 
 " Where blind and naked Ignorance 
 Delivers bravvlini^ judgments all day long 
 On all things, unashamed," — 
 
 protests that the monument is a pedestal of 
 
 a lost image of Gladstone. The inscription 
 
 (G. O. M.) is read "Grand Old Man," and it 
 
 is actually hinted that this was the petit nom, 
 
 or endearing title, of a real historical politician. 
 
 Weak as we may think such reasonings, we 
 
 must regard them as, at least, less unscholarly 
 
 than the hypothesis that the inscription should 
 
 be read 
 
 "90 M." 
 
 meaning "ninety miles from London." It 
 is true that the site whence the monument 
 was excavated is at a distance of ninety miles 
 from the ruins of London, but that is a mere 
 coincidence, on which it were childish to
 
 294 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 
 
 insist. Scholars know at what rate such 
 accidents should be estimated, and value at 
 its proper price one clear interpretation like 
 G. O. M.^zG/adstouio Optimo Maximo. 
 
 It is, of course, no argument against this 
 view that the authors of the Dirce regard 
 Gladstone as a maleficent being. How could 
 they do otherwise .'' They were the scribes 
 of the opposed religion. Diodorus tells us 
 about an Ethiopian sect which detested the 
 Sun. A parallel, as usual, is found in Egypt, 
 where Set, or Typhon, is commonly regarded 
 as a maleficent spirit, the enemy of Osiris, the 
 midnight sun. None the less it is certain that 
 under some dynasties Set himself was adored 
 — the deity of one creed is the Satan of its 
 opponents. A curious coincidence seems to 
 show (as Bergaigne thinks) that Indra, the 
 chief Indo-Aryan deity, was occasionally 
 confounded with Vrittra, who is usually his 
 antagonist. The myths of Egypt, as reported 
 by Plutarch, say that Set, or Typhon, forced 
 his way out of his mother's side, thereby 
 showing his natural malevolence even in 
 the moment of his birth. The myths of 
 the extinct Algonkins of the American con- 
 tinent repeat absolutely the same tale about
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 295 
 
 Malsumis, the brother and foe of their divine 
 hero, Glooskap. Now the Rig Veda (iv. 18, 
 1-3) attributes this act to Indra, and we may 
 fnfer that Indra had been the Typhon, or Set, 
 or Glooskap, of some Aryan kindred, before 
 he became the chief and beneficent god of the 
 Kusika stock of Indo-Aryans. The evil myth 
 clung to the good god. By a similar process 
 we may readily account for the imprecations, 
 and for the many profane and blasphemous 
 legends, in which Gladstone is represented as 
 oblique, mysterious, and equivocal. (Compare 
 Apollo Loxias.) The same class of ideas 
 occurs in the myths about Gladstone "in 
 Opposition " (as the old mythical language 
 runs), that is, about the too ardent sun of 
 summer. When "in Opposition" he is said to 
 have found himself in a condition "of more 
 freedom and less responsibility," and to " have 
 made it hot for his enemies," expressions 
 transparently mythical. If more evidence 
 were wanted, it would be found in the m}'th 
 which represents Gladstone as the opponent of 
 Huxley. As every philologist knows, Huxley, 
 by Grimm's law, is Huskley, the hero of a 
 " husk myth " (as Ralston styles it), a brilliant 
 being enveloped in a husk, probably the night
 
 296 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 
 
 or the thunder-cloud. The dispute between 
 Gladstone and Huskley as to what occurred 
 at the Creation is a repetition of the same 
 dispute between Wainamoinen and Joukaha- 
 inen, in the Kalewala of the Finns. Released 
 from his husk, the opponent becomes Beacons- 
 field = the field of light, or radiant sky. 
 
 In works of art, Gladstone is represented 
 as armed with an axe. This, of course, is 
 probably a survival from the effigies of Zeus 
 Labrandeus, den Man aiif Miinzen mit der 
 streitaxt erblickt (Preller, i. 112). We hear 
 of axes being offered to Gladstone by his 
 worshippers. Nor was the old custom of 
 clothing the image of the god (as in the sixth 
 book of the "Iliad") neglected. We read 
 that the people of a Scotch manufacturing 
 town, Galashiels, presented the Midlothian 
 Gladstone (a local hero) with " trouserings," 
 which the hero graciously accepted. Indeed 
 he was remarkably unlike Death, as described 
 by yEschylus, " Of all gods. Death only recks 
 not of gifts." Gladstone, on the other hand, 
 was the centre of a lavish system of sacrifice 
 — loaves of bread, axes, velocipedes, books, in 
 vast and overwhelming numbers, were all dedi- 
 cated at his shrine. Hence some have identi-
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTJJ. 297 
 
 fied him with Irving, also a deity propitiated 
 (as \vc read in Josephus Hatton) by votive 
 offerings. In a later chapter I show that 
 Irving is really one of the Asvins of Vedic 
 mythology, "the Great Twin Brethren," or, in 
 mythic language, " the Corsican Brothers " 
 (compare Myriantheus on the Asvins). His 
 inseparable companion is Wilson-Barrett. 
 
 Among animals the cow is sacred to 
 Gladstone ; and, in works of art, gems and 
 vases (or "jam-pots"), he is represented 
 with the cow at his feet, like the mouse 
 of Horus, of Apollo Smintheus, and of the 
 Japanese God of Plenty (see an ivory in the 
 Henley Collection). How are we to explain 
 the companionship of the cow ? At other 
 times the Sun-hero sits between the horns of 
 the Cow-Goddess Dilemma, worshipped at 
 Westminster. (Compare Brugsch, " Religion 
 und Mythologie der alten Aegypter," P. 168, 
 " Die Darstellungen Zeigen uns den Sonnen- 
 gott zwischen den Hornern der Kuh sitzend.") 
 The idea of Le Page Renouf, and of Pierret 
 and De Rouge, is that the cow is a symbol of 
 some Gladstonian attribute, perhaps "squeez- 
 ability," a quality attributed to the hero by 
 certain Irish minstrels. I regard it as more
 
 298 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 
 
 probable that the cow is (as in the Veda) the 
 rain-cloud, released from prison by Gladstone, 
 as by Indra. At the same time the cow, in 
 the Veda, stands for Heaven, Earth, Dawn, 
 Night, Cloud, Rivers, Thunder, Sacrifice, 
 Prayer, and Soma. We thus have a wide 
 field to choose from, nor is our selection of 
 very much importance, as any, or all, of these 
 interpretations will be welcomed by Sanskrit 
 scholars. The followers of McLennan have 
 long ago been purged out of the land by the 
 edict of Oxford against this sect of mytho- 
 logical heretics. They would doubtless have 
 maintained that the cow was Gladstone's 
 totem, or family crest, and that, like other 
 totemists, he was forbidden to eat beef 
 
 It is curious that on some old and worn 
 coins we detect a half-obliterated male figure 
 lurking behind the cow. The inscription may 
 be read "Jo," or " lo," and appears to indicate 
 lo, the cow-maiden of Greek myth (see the 
 " Prometheus " of yEschylus). 
 
 Another proof of the mythical character 
 of Gladstone is the number of his birthplaces. 
 Many cities claimed the honour of being 
 his cradle, exactly as in the cases of Apollo 
 and Irving. Their claims were allowed by
 
 THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH. 299 
 
 the Deity. (Compare Callimachus, Hyiini to 
 Apollo}) 
 
 In addressing scholars it is needless to 
 refute the Euhemeristic hypothesis, worthy of 
 the Abbe Banier, that the cow is a real cow, 
 offered by a real historical Gladstone, or b}' 
 his companion, Jo, to the ignorant populace 
 of the rural districts. VVe have already shown 
 that Jo is a mythological name. The tendency 
 to identify Gladstone with the cow (as the 
 dawn with the sun) is a natural and edifying 
 tendency, but the position must not be 
 accepted without further inquiry. The Sun- 
 god, in Egyptian myth, is a Bull, but there 
 is a difference, which we must not overlook, 
 between a bull and a cow. Caution, pru- 
 dence, a tranquil balancing of all available 
 evidence, and an absence of preconceived 
 opinions, — these are the guiding stars of com- 
 parative mytholog}-.
 
 MY FRIEND THE BEACH 
 COiMBER.
 
 MY FRIEND THE BEACH- 
 COMBER. 
 
 "Been in some near things in the islands?" 
 said my friend the beach-comber ; " I fancy 
 I have'' 
 
 The beach-comber then produced a piece 
 of luggage like a small Gladstone bag, which 
 he habitually carried, and thence he extracted 
 a cigar about the size of the butt of a light 
 trout-rod. He took a vesuvian out of a 
 curious brown hollowed nut-shell, mounted 
 in gold (the beach-comber, like Mycena.' in 
 Homer, W2is poljchrysos, rich in gold in all his 
 equipments), and occupied himself with the 
 task of setting fire to his weed. The process 
 was a long one, and reminded me of the arts 
 by which the beach-comber's native friends 
 fire the root of a tree before they attack it
 
 304 MV FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 
 
 with their stone tomahawks. However, there 
 was no use in trying to hurry the ancient 
 mariner. He was bound to talk while his 
 cigar lasted, thereby providing his hearer 
 with plenty of what is called "copy" in the 
 profession of letters. 
 
 The beach-comber was a big man, loose 
 (\n ph}'siq?ie only of course), broad, and black- 
 bearded, his face about the colovir of a gun 
 stock. We called him by the nickname he 
 bore * (he bore it very good-naturedly), 
 because he had spent the years of his youth 
 among the countless little islands of the 
 South Seas, especially among those which 
 lie at "the back of beyond," that is, on the 
 far side of the broad shoulder of Queensland. 
 In these regions the white man takes his life 
 and whatever native property he can annex 
 in his hand, caring no more for the Aborigines' 
 
 * "Beach-comber" is the local term for the European 
 adventurers and long-shore loafers who infest the Pacific 
 Archipelagoes. There is a well-known tale of an English 
 castaway on one of the isles, who was worshipped as a deity 
 by the ignorant people. At length he made his escape, by 
 swimming, and was taken aboard a British vessel, whose 
 captain accosted him roughly. The mariner turned aside 
 and dashed away a tear ; " I've been a god for months, and 
 you call me a (something alliterative) beach-comber ! " he 
 exclaimed, and refused to be comforted.
 
 A/V FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 305 
 
 Protection Society than for the K}'rle Com- 
 pany for diffusing stampcd-lcathcr hangings 
 and Moorish lustre plates among the poor of 
 the East-End. The common beach-comber 
 is usually an outcast from that civilization of 
 which, in the islands, he is the only pioneer. 
 Sometimes he deals in rum, sometimes in 
 land, most frequently in " black-birds " — that 
 is, in coolies, as it is now usual to call slaves. 
 Not, of course, that all coolies are slaves. 
 My friend the beach-comber treated his 
 dusky labourers with distinguished considera- 
 tion, fed them well, housed them well, taught 
 them the game of cricket, and dismissed 
 them, when the term of their engagement 
 was up, to their island homes. He was, in 
 fact, a planter, with a taste for obser\ing wild 
 life in out-of-the-way places. 
 
 " Yes, I have been in some near things," he 
 went on, when the trunk of his cigar was 
 fairly ignited. " Do you see these two front 
 teeth } " 
 
 The beach-comber opened wide a cavernous 
 mouth. The late Mr. Macadam, who invented 
 the system of making roads called by his 
 name, allowed no stone to be laid on the 
 way which the stone-breaker could not put in 
 
 X
 
 3o6 MY FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 
 
 his mouth. The beach-comber could ahiiost 
 ha\c inserted a milestone. • 
 
 I did not see "these two front teeth," 
 because, like the Spanish Fleet, they were 
 not in sight. But I understood my friend to 
 be drawing my attention to their absence. 
 
 " I see the place where they have been," I 
 answered. 
 
 " Well, that was a near go," said the beach- 
 comber. " I was running for my life before 
 a pack of screeching naked beggars in the 
 Admiralty Islands. I had emptied my 
 revolver, and my cartridges, Government 
 ones, were all in a parcel — a confounded 
 Government parcel — fastened with a strong 
 brass wire. Where's the good of giving you 
 cartridges, which you need in a hurry if you 
 need them at all, in a case you can't open 
 without a special instrument? Well, as I 
 ran, and the spears whizzed round me, I tore 
 at the wire with my teeth. It gave at last, or 
 my head would now be decorating a stake 
 outside the chief's paJi. But my teeth gave 
 when the brass cord gave, and I'll never lift 
 a heavy table with them again." 
 
 " But you got out the cartridges t " 
 
 " Oh yes. I shot two of the beggars, and
 
 MV FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 307 
 
 ' purwailcd on tlicm to stop,' and then I 
 came within sight of the boats, and Thompson 
 shouted, and the others bolted. What a 
 voice that fellow had ! It reminded me of 
 that Greek chap I read about at school ; he 
 went and faced the Trojans with nothinj:^ in 
 his hand, and they hooked it when they only 
 heard him roar. Poor Thompson ! " and the 
 beach-comber drank, in silence, to the illus- 
 trious dead. 
 
 " Who shot him ? " 
 
 " A scientific kind of poop, a botanizing 
 shaloot that was travelling around with a tin 
 box on his back, collecting beetles and bird- 
 skins. Poor Thompson ! this was how it 
 happened. He was the strongest fellow I 
 ever saw ; he could tear a whole pack of 
 cards across with his hands. That man was 
 all muscle. He and I had paddled this 
 botanizing creature across to an island where 
 some marooned fellow had built a hut, and 
 wc kept a little whisk\- in a bunk, and used 
 the place sometimes for shooting or fishing. 
 It was latish one night, the botanist had not 
 come home, I fell asleep, and left Thompson 
 with the whisky. I was awakened by hearing 
 a shot, and there lay Thompson, stone-dead,
 
 3o8 J/y FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 
 
 a bullet in his forehead, and the naturalist 
 with a smoking revolver in his hand, and 
 trembling like an aspen leaf. It seems he 
 had lost his way, and by the time he got 
 home, Thompson was mad drunk, and came 
 for him with his fists. If once he hit you, 
 just in play, it was death, and the stranger 
 knew that. Thompson had him in a corner, 
 and I am bound to say that shooting was his 
 only chance. Poor old Thompson ! " 
 
 " And what was done to the other man .^ " 
 
 " JJone ! why there was no one to do any- 
 thing, unless I had shot him, or marooned 
 him. No law runs in these parts. Thompson 
 was the best partner I ever had ; he was with 
 me in that lark with the tabooed pig." 
 
 " What lark ? " 
 
 " Oh, I've often spun you the yarn." 
 
 " Never ! " 
 
 "Well, it was like this. Thompson and I, 
 and some other chaps, started in a boat, with 
 provisions, just prospecting about the islands. 
 So we went in and out among the straits — 
 horrid places, clear water full of sharks, and 
 nothing but mangroves on every side. One 
 of these sounds is just like another. Once 
 I was coming home in a coasting steamer,
 
 MY FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 309 
 
 and got them to set mc down on a point 
 that I beheved was within half-a-milc of 
 my place. Well, I was landed, and I began 
 walking homewards, when I found I was on 
 the wrong track, miles and miles of mangrove 
 swamp, cut up with a dozen straits of salt 
 water, lay between me and the station. The 
 first stretch of water I came to, gad ! I didn't 
 like it. I kept prospecting for sharks ver\' 
 close before I swam it, with my clothes on 
 my head. I was in awful luck all the way, 
 though, — not one of them had a snap at me." 
 
 "But about the taboo pig? Revenons a nos 
 cochons ! " 
 
 " I'm coming to that. Well, we landed at 
 an island we had never been on before, where 
 there was a village of Coast natives. A crowd 
 of beehive-shaped huts, 3-ou know, the wall 
 about three feet high, and all the rest roof, 
 w^attle, and clay, and moss, built as neat as a 
 bird's-nest outside, not very sweet inside. So 
 we landed and got out the grub, and marched 
 up to the village. Not a soul to be seen ; not a 
 black in the place. Their gear was all cleaned 
 out too ; there wasn't a net, nor a spear, nor 
 a mat, nor a howl (they're great beggars for 
 making pipkins), not a blessed fetich stone 
 
 X 3
 
 310 3fy FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 
 
 even, in the whole place. You never saw 
 anything so forsaken. But just in the middle 
 of the row of huts, you might call it a street 
 if you liked, there lay, as happy as if he was 
 by the fireside among the children in Galway, 
 a great big fat beast of a hog. Well, we 
 couldn't make out what had become of the 
 people. Thought we had frightened them 
 away, only then they'd have taken the hog. 
 Suddenly, out of some corner, comes a black 
 fellow making signs of peace. He held up 
 his hands to show he had no weapon in 
 them, and then he held up his feet ditto." 
 
 " Why on earth did he hold up his feet } " 
 
 "To show he wasn't trailing a spear 
 between his toes ; that is a common dodge of 
 theirs. We made signs to him to come up, 
 and up he came, speaking a kind of pigeon 
 English. It seems he was an interpreter by 
 trade, paying a visit to his native village ; so 
 we tried to get out of him what it was all 
 about. Just what we might have expected. 
 A kid had been born in the village that day." 
 
 "What had the birth of a kid got to do 
 with it .' " 
 
 " It's like this, don't you know. Every 
 tribe is divided into Coast natives and Bush
 
 MY FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 311 
 
 natives. One set lives by the sea, and is 
 comparatively what you might call civilized. 
 The other set, their cousins, live in the Bush, 
 and are a good deal more savage. Now, 
 when anything out of the way, especially 
 anything of a fortunate kind, happens in one 
 division of the tribe, the other division pops 
 down on them, loots everything it can lay 
 hands on, maltreats the women, breaks what's 
 too heavy to carry, and generally plays the 
 very mischief The birth of a child is always 
 celebrated in that way." 
 
 " And don't the others resist .-• " 
 
 " Resist ! No ! It would be the height of 
 rudeness. Do you resist when people leave 
 cards at your house, ' with kind inquiries ' ? 
 It's just like that ; a way they have of show- 
 ing a friendly interest." 
 
 " But what can be the origin of such an 
 extraordinary custom ? " 
 
 "/ don't know. Guess it has a kind of 
 civilizing effect, as you'll see. Resources of 
 civilization get handed on to the Bush tribes, 
 but that can't be what it was started for. 
 However, recently the tribes have begun to 
 run cunning, and they hide themselves and 
 all their goods when they have reason to
 
 312 MY FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 
 
 expect a friendly visit. This was what they 
 had done the day we landed. But, while we 
 were jawing with the interpreter, we heard a 
 yell to make your hair stand on end. The 
 Bush tribe came down on the village all in 
 their war paint, — white clay ; an arrangement, 
 as you say, in black and white. Down they 
 came, rushed into every hut, rushed out again, 
 found nothing, and an awful rage they were 
 in. They said this kind of behaviour was 
 most ungentlemanly ; why, where was decent 
 feeling ? where was neighbourliness } While 
 they were howling, they spotted the hog, and 
 made for him in a minute; here was luncheon, 
 anyhow, — pork chops. So they soon had a 
 fire, set a light to one of the houses in fact, 
 and heaped up stones ; that's how they 
 cook. They cut you up in bits, wrap them 
 in leaves " 
 
 " En papillotte f " 
 
 " Just that, and broil you on the hot stones. 
 They cook everything that way." 
 
 " Are they cannibals ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, in \\ar-time. Or criminals they'll 
 eat. I've often heard the queer yell a native 
 will give, quite a peculiar cry, when he is 
 carrying a present of cold prisoner of war
 
 J/F FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 313 
 
 from one chief to another. lie cries out like 
 that, to show what his errand is, at the border 
 of the village propei'ty." 
 
 " Before entering the ]\Iark ? " 1 said, for I 
 had been reading Sir Henry Maine. 
 
 "The paJi,\\\<z beggars about me call it," 
 said the beach-comber ; " perhaps some 
 niggers you've been reading about call it 
 the Mark. I tlon't know. But to be done 
 with this pig. The fire was ready, and they 
 were just going to cut the poor beast's throat 
 with a green-stone knife, when the interpreter 
 up and told them ' hands off.' ' That's a 
 taboo pig,' says he. 'A black fellow that 
 died six months ago that pig belonged to. 
 When he was dying, and leaving his propert}^ 
 to his friends, he was \'ery sorry to part with 
 the pig, so he made him taboo ; nobody can 
 touch him. To eat him is death.' 
 
 " Of course this explained why that pig 
 had been left when all the other live stock 
 and portable property was cleared out. No- 
 bod}^ would touch a taboo pig, and that pig, 
 I tell }-ou, was tabooed an inch thick. The 
 man he belonged to had been a Tohunga, 
 and still ' walked,' in the shape of a lizard. 
 Well, the interpreter, acting most fairh-, I
 
 314 -l/i" FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 
 
 must say, explained all this to the Bush tribe, 
 and we went down to the boat and lunched. 
 Presently a smell of roast pork came drifting" 
 down on the wind. They had been hungry 
 and mad after their march, and they were 
 cooking the taboo pig. The interpreter grew 
 as white as a Kancka can ; he knew some- 
 thing would happen. 
 
 "Presently the Bush fellows came down 
 to the boat, licking their lips. There hadn't 
 been much more than enough to go round, 
 and they accepted some of our grub, and took 
 to it kindly. 
 
 " ' Let's offer them some rum,' says 
 Thompson ; he never cruised without plenty 
 aboard. ' No no,' says I ; ' tea, give them 
 tea.' But Thompson had a keg of rum out, 
 and a tin can, and served round some pretty 
 stiff grog. Now, would you believe it, these 
 poor devils had never tasted spirits before ? 
 j\Iost backward race they were. But they 
 took to the stuff, and got pretty merry, till 
 one of them tried to move back to the village. 
 He staggered up and down, and tumbled 
 against rocks, and finally he lay flat and 
 held on tight. The others, most of them, 
 were no better as soon as they tried to move.
 
 Jl/y FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 
 
 j'3 
 
 A rare fright they were in ! They began 
 pra}-ing and mumbh'ng; praj'ing, of all things, 
 to the soul of the taboo pig ! They thought 
 they were being punished for the awful sin 
 they had committed in eating him. The 
 interpreter improved the occasion. He told 
 them their faults prctt}- roundl}-. Hadn't 
 he warned them ? Didn't they know the pig 
 was taboo ? Did an\' good ever come of 
 breaking a taboo ? The soberer fellows 
 sneaked off into the bush, the others lay 
 and snoozed till the Coast tribe came out of 
 hiding, and gave it to them pretty warm with 
 throwing sticks and the flat side of waddies. 
 I guess the belief in taboo won't die out of 
 that Bush tribe in a hurry." 
 
 " It was like the companions of Od}'sseus 
 devouring the oxen of the Sun," I said. 
 
 " Very likely," replied the beach-comber. 
 " Never heard of the parties. They're super- 
 stitious beggars, these Kanekas. You've 
 heard of buying a thing ' for a song ' ? 
 Well, I got my station for a whistle. They 
 believe that spirits twitter and whistle, and 
 you'll hardly get them to go out at night, 
 even with a boiled potato in their hands, 
 which they think good against ghosts, for
 
 3i6 J/y FRIEND THE BEACH-COMBER. 
 
 fear of hearing the bogies. So I just went 
 whistling, 'Bonny Dundee' at nights all 
 round the location I fancied, and after a week 
 of that, not a nigger would go near it. They 
 made it over to me, gratis, with an address on 
 my courage and fortitude. I gave them some 
 blankets in ; and that's how real property 
 used to change hands in the Pacific." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 / PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, Ll.MITED, 
 
 LONDON AND BECCLES.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
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