[Illustration: CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL
OF
POPULAR
LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.
Fourth Series
CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS.
NO. 691. SATURDAY, MARCH 24, 1877. PRICE 1½_d._]
NAMES.
There might be much amusement in tracing the origin of family names.
Long ago--say about six or seven hundred years since--there were no
family names at all. People had Christian names and nothing more, and
of course there was often considerable difficulty in distinguishing
individuals. Such at present is the case in Turkey, where the old
eastern practice of using but a single name continues to be followed.
Surnames were not introduced into England until after the Conquest.
The fashion of using two names came to us from France, but for a time
was confined to families of distinction, and extended slowly over the
country. One thing is said to have promoted its use. Young ladies of
aspiring tastes declined to marry gentlemen who had only a Christian
name, such as John or Thomas, for they would necessarily have still
to be called by their own name, Mary, Elizabeth, or whatever it was.
Spinsters accordingly thought it to be a grand thing to form an
alliance with a person possessing the distinction of a family name, by
which they should ever after be called.
Curiously enough, so difficult is it to alter old usages, that until
very lately surnames were scarcely used among the humbler classes
of people in some parts of Great Britain remote from centres of
civilisation. In these places, a creditor would enter the name of
his debtor in his books as John the son of Thomas, just as you see
genealogies in the Old Testament. Only now, from improved communication
with the outer world, have practices of this kind gone out of use.
We can easily understand how the names ending in _son_, as Johnson,
Thomson, Manson (abbreviation of Magnusson), originated; and it is
equally easy to conjecture how names from professions, such as Smith,
Miller, or Cooper came into existence. It is equally obvious that
many family names are derived from the nature of the complexion of
individuals, as Black, Brown, and White.
At first sight, there is a mystery as regards the different ways in
which certain names are spelled. Smith is sometimes written Smyth;
and in some instances Brown has an _e_ at the end of it. We see the
name Reid spelled as Reade, Reed, and Rede. We see Long, Lang, and
Laing, all variations of one name. The same thing can be said of
Strong, Strang, and Strange; of Little and Liddle; of Home and Hume;
of Chambers and Chalmers; and so on with a host of surnames in daily
use. The mystery which hangs over various spellings is cleared up on a
consideration of the indifferent scholarship which prevailed until even
the middle of the eighteenth century. Names in old legal documents and
in the inscriptions on the blank leaves of family Bibles, are written
in all sorts of ways. A man seldom wrote his name twice in succession
the same way. Each member of a family followed the spelling suggested
by his own fancy, and added to or altered letters in his name with
perfect indifference. Eccentricities of this kind are still far from
uncommon in the signatures of imperfectly educated persons. There is,
in fact, a constant growth of new names, springing from ignorance and
carelessness, though also in some cases from a sense of refinement.
Perhaps there is a still more vigorous growth of names from foundlings.
Driven to their wits' end to invent names for the anonymous infants
thrown on their bounty, parish authorities are apt to cut the matter
short by conferring names that are suggested by the localities where
the poor children were picked up. A child found at a door will be
called Door, and so on with Street, Place, Steps, Basket, Turnstyle,
or anything else. Hundreds of droll names are said to have begun in
this way. Possibly it was from such origin as this that a respectable
citizen of Dublin, mentioned by Cosmo Innes in his small book on
Surnames, derived the name of Halfpenny. Mr Halfpenny, it is stated,
'throve in trade, and his children prevailed on him in his latter
years to change the name which they thought undignified; and this he
did chiefly by dropping the last letter. He died and was buried as Mr
Halpen. The fortune of the family did not recede, and the son of our
citizen thought proper to renounce retail dealing, and at the same
time looked about for a euphonious change of name. He made no scruple
of dropping the unnecessary _h_; and that being done, it was easy to
go into the Celtic rage, which Sir Walter Scott and the _Lady of the
Lake_ had just raised to a great height; and he who had run the streets
as little Kenny Halfpenny came out at the levées of the day as Kenneth
MacAlpin, the descendant of a hundred kings.'
The assumed name of MacAlpin brings us to the whole order of Macs, now
spread out in all directions. Mac is the Gaelic equivalent for son,
and accordingly Mr MacAlpin would in an English dress be Mr Alpinson.
There happen to be two distinct classes of Macs, those with a Highland
origin, such as Mackay, Macpherson, Macgregor, Macneil, Macfarlane,
Macleod, and Macdonald--all great clans in the olden time; and the Macs
of Galloway, where Gaelic is now extinct, and the races are somewhat
different from the Highland septs--perhaps with a little Manx and Irish
blood in them. Among the Galloway Macs are found the names Maclumpha,
Macletchie, and MacCandlish, which evidently do not sound with the true
Highland ring. The Irish have likewise their form of expression for
son. They use the single letter O, as O'Connell and O'Donell. The O,
however, signifies grandson, as it continues to do in the old Lowland
vernacular in Scotland, where an aged woman in humble life may be heard
saying of her grandchild, 'That is my O.' Prefixes or terminations for
son are common among names in every civilised country in Europe.
As is well known, the Norman Conquest gave a new character to English
names. From that time many of the most notable of our surnames are to
be dated, not only in England, where the Conquest made itself cruelly
felt, but in Scotland, where families of Norman origin gradually
effected a settlement by invitation and otherwise. Names traceable
to the Norman families are very commonly derived from heritable
possessions, and till this day bear a certain aristocratic air, though
altered in various ways. Doubtless in the lists of those 'who came over
with the Conqueror,' there are innumerable shams; but there are also
descendants of veritable invaders. We might, for example, instance the
late Sir Francis Burdett (father of the Baroness Burdett Coutts), who
traced his origin by a clear genealogical line to Hugh de Burdett, one
of the Norman soldiers who fought at Hastings in 1066. That gives a
pretty considerable antiquity to an existing family without change of
name. On the Scottish side of the Border, we could point to a family,
Horsbrugh of that Ilk, as being not less than eight hundred years old,
and always occupying the same lands and possessions. Wallace, Bruce,
Dundas, Fraser, Stewart, or to use its French form Stuart, are also
Scottish surnames of great antiquity. To these we might add two names
now ennobled, the Scotts, Dukes of Buccleuch, and the Kers, Dukes of
Roxburghe. We find these various names meandering through history for
six or seven hundred years.
On the original names borne by noted Norman families in England and
Scotland, time has effected conspicuous changes. The prefix _de_, which
was once held in high esteem, has been generally dropped. There has
likewise, in various cases, been what might be called a vulgarising of
the names. De Vesci is transformed into Veitch, De l'Isle into Lyle,
and De Vere into Weir. Through various changes De Montalt has become
Mowat, De Montfitchet sinks into Mushet, De Moravie into Murray, and
Grossetête into Grosart. We cannot speak with too much contempt of
the mythic fables invented to explain the origin of the names Forbes,
Guthrie, Dalyell, Douglas, Naesmyth, and Napier--grand old names, which
existed ages before the imaginary incidents that have been clumsily
assigned as their commencement.
Any one disposed to investigate the historical origin of British
surnames, would find not a little to amuse and instruct by making a
leisurely survey along the east coast from Shetland to the English
Channel. Every here and there he would alight upon patches of
population, whose descent from Norwegians, Danes, Jutes, Angles, and
other continental settlers in early times would be unmistakingly
revealed in their surnames, the colour of their eyes, their complexion,
and in their spoken dialect--the very pronunciation of certain letters;
for the lapse of centuries and innumerable vicissitudes have failed to
obliterate the normal peculiarities of their origin. Strange, indeed,
is the persistency of race. We have heard it stated as a curious
and little known fact, that on the west coast of Scotland there are
families descended from the wrecked crews of the Spanish Armada,
who scrambled ashore now nearly three hundred years ago. Herein, as
we imagine, lies a mine of ethnographic lore, which in the cause of
science and history would be not unworthy of exploration. A stretch
within the Scottish Border would likewise not be unproductive. On the
eastern and middle marches will still be found the descendants of the
Eliots and Armstrongs who are renowned in the _Border Minstrelsy_ of
Scott; the Grahams in the Debatable Land; and on the west the Johnstons
(with their cognisance of the winged spur), the Jardines, and the
Maxwells. Are not these living memorials demonstrative of the truth of
history and tradition?
The surnames common to Great Britain and Ireland received an immense
accession by those religious persecutions in Flanders in the
sixteenth, and in France in the seventeenth century, by which hosts
of intelligent and industrious foreigners were forced to flee for
their lives. The prodigious immigration from this cause, and to which
has to be attributed much of our manufacturing prosperity, has seldom
been seriously thought of. A painstaking account of this interesting
invasion of Flemish and French artisans has lately been written by Mr
Smiles,[1] which may be advantageously consulted on the subject. We
do not go into the religious part of the question, further than to say
that the expulsion of so many skilled labourers in the useful arts was
a terrible blunder, which we can imagine has been long since repented
of. Our concern being principally with the names of the refugees, we
shall run over a few items, taking Mr Smiles as our authority. Speaking
of the lace-manufacturing towns in the west of England, which had been
enriched by the ingenuity of Flemish settlers, he says: 'Such names
as Raymond, Spiller, Brock, Stocker, Groot, Rochett, and Kettel are
still common; and the same trades have been continued in some of their
families for generations.' Some Walloon refugees, cloth-makers, named
Goupés, settled in Wiltshire three hundred years ago, and there their
descendants are still, but with the name changed to Guppys. From the
De Grotes, or Groots, a Netherlandish family, sprung the late George
Grote, the eminent historian of Greece. The Houblons, who gave the Bank
of England its first governor, the Van Sittarts, Jansens, Courtens, Van
Milderts, Deckers, Hostes, and Tyssens, were all descendants of Flemish
refugees. 'Among artists, architects, and engineers of Flemish descent,
we find,' says our author, 'Grinling Gibbons, the wood-sculptor; Mark
Gerard, the portrait-painter; Sir John Vanbrugh, the architect and
play-writer; Richard Cosway, the miniature-painter; and Vermuyden and
Westerdyke, the engineers employed to reclaim the drained land of the
Fens. The Tradescants, the celebrated antiquarians, were of the same
origin.'
Driven from the Netherlands by the intolerant policy of the Spanish
authorities, who had possession of the country in 1555, the Flemish
refugees with their descendants had been residing in England for
several generations, when there occurred a fresh accession of
immigrants on the score of religion. These were the families who, under
prodigious difficulties, felt themselves obliged to flee from France in
consequence of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes by Louis XIV. in
1685. These unhappy people escaping across the Channel in open boats,
or anyhow, arrived on the coast of England and Ireland to the number
of fifty thousand. They brought no money with them; but animated by
an immense spirit of industry and independence, their presence was
more valuable than untold gold. Settling in London and other quarters,
there are till this day innumerable traces of their names in the
general population. We might instance the names Baringer, Fourdrinier,
Poupart, Fonblanque, Delaine, Payne, Paget, Lefanu, La Touche, Layard,
Maturin, Roget, D'Olier, Martineau, Romilly, Saurin, Barbauld,
Labouchere, and Garrick, whose real name was Garrigue--all of Huguenot
origin. The names of French refugees who introduced silk-weaving into
England are now to be seen in Spitalfields, where also a few of their
mulberry trees still survive. The town of Portarlington, in Ireland,
was entirely peopled by French exiles, and continues to bear traces
of the original names. We are informed that a taste for cultivating
flowers was spread through a number of the English towns by the French
refugees. Silks, ribbons, lace, gloves, hats, glass, clocks, watches,
telescopes (by Dollond), and paper were among the manufactures which
they introduced. By the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, France
appears to have lost all its hatters. Previously, England imported hats
from France, but now the French had to import all their hats, at least
those of a finer kind, from England.
The original French names were not always preserved by the refugees
and their descendants. Becoming Anglicised, their names in several
instances assumed an English form, which was not always an improvement.
Mr Smiles gives us some examples: 'L'Oiseau became Bird; Le Jeune,
Young; Du Bois, Wood; Le Blanc, White; Le Noir, Black; Le Maur, Brown;
Le Roy, King; Lacroix, Cross; Tonnelier, Cooper; Le Maitre, Masters;
Dulau, Waters; Sauvage, Savage and Wild. Some of the Lefevres changed
their name to the English equivalent of Smith, as was the case with the
ancestor of Sir Culling Eardley Smith, Bart., a French refugee whose
original name was Lefevre. Many names were strangely altered in their
conversion from French into English. Jolifemme was freely translated
into Pretyman; Momerie became Mummery, a common name at Dover; and
Planche became Plank, of which there are still instances at Canterbury
and Southampton. At Oxford, the name of Williamise was traced back
to Villebois; Taillebois became Talboys; Le Coq, Laycock; Bouchier,
Butcher or Boxer; Boyer, Bower; Bois, Boys; Mesurier, Measure; Mahieu,
Mayhew; Drouet, Drewitt; D'Aeth, Death; D'Orleans, Dorling; De Preux,
Diprose; De Moulins, Mullins; Pelletier, Pelter; Huyghens, Huggens or
Higgins; and Beaufoy, Boffy.' Some other conversions are mentioned,
such as Letellier into Taylor; De Laine into Dillon; Dieudoun into
Dudney; Renalls into Reynolds; Saveroy into Savery; and Levereau into
Lever. While such havoc has been played in England with French names,
a similar change, though on a less extensive scale, has been made on
English and Scotch names in France--witness only Colbert, a minister of
Louis XIV., descended from a Scotsman named Cuthbert; and Le Brun, an
eminent artist, sprung from plain Mr Brown.
When William Prince of Orange arrived in England in 1688, he brought
with him a number of trusty Dutchmen, who in civil and military life
so distinguished themselves as to rise to eminence. Among these were
William Bentinck, created Earl of Portland, whose son was raised to
a dukedom; General Ginkell, who fought manfully at the Boyne, was
created Earl of Athlone; and Arnold-Joost Van Keppel, was created Earl
of Albemarle, whose descendant now enjoys the title. With George I.
there began a number of German names which are now lost in the general
population. Far greater additions, however, have been made by the
progress of industrial settlement within the last fifty years.
A good feature in the more intelligent classes in England is, that
entertaining no grudge at the immigration of foreigners who desire to
pursue an honest calling, they receive them hospitably, and willingly
hail them as naturalised subjects; for them and their descendants are
indeed opened up according to merit the higher offices in the state.
As a token of this liberality of dealing, we have only to glance
over street directories and see the vast number of names of persons
of German, Dutch, French, Swiss, Greek, and Italian origin. We could
specify many estimable persons of these nationalities. But the topic
would branch out sufficiently to fill a volume; and the more it is
investigated the clearer is the view to be obtained of the manifold
changes that have taken place in the tastes and conditions of society.
Thanking Mr Smiles in the meantime for the ingenious contribution to
the history of surnames, to which we have called attention, the subject
is little more than touched on, and we should like to see it treated if
possible in a thoroughly comprehensive spirit.
W. C.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _The Huguenots: their Settlements, Churches, and Industries in
England and Ireland._ By Samuel Smiles. New and Revised Edition.
Murray, London, 1876.
THE LAST OF THE HADDONS.
CHAPTER XV.--ROBERT WENTWORTH'S NEWS.
'Do you really think that I ought not to tell Arthur yet, Mary?'
whispered Lilian to me later in the day, when she was about to
accompany her lover into the garden.
'I should certainly advise you not to do so until we know whether or
not the discovery is of any importance,' I replied in the same tone.
'I would so much prefer telling him,' she murmured anxiously.
'I can understand that, dear Lilian.'
'And still you think it best not to tell him?'
'I am only afraid that he might not hold the same views as you do
yourself upon the point; and it would only lead to painful discussion,
which it is as well to avoid; at anyrate, until you know for certain
whether the document is genuine or not.'
Her respect for my opinion proved to be stronger than her respect for
his; perhaps because I tried to appeal to her reason as well as to her
feelings, and she did _not_ tell him.
The next day passed, and the next, slowly enough to me, in the
miserable state of uncertainty I was in, no sign being made by Robert
Wentworth. But when another day went by, and then another, the truth
began to dawn upon me. He had gone to Scotland to make inquiries on the
spot, which proved that what he had learned from Mrs Pratt rendered it
necessary so to do; and that everything now depended upon the validity
of Mr Farrar's marriage with Marian's mother. Then I saw that it was
not right to allow Lilian to go on without some sort of preparation for
the blow, which might fall at any moment. It was now my duty to prepare
her in some degree for what she had not the slightest suspicion of. If
Robert Wentworth's inquiries had brought out the fact that Marian's
mother died before Lilian's was married to Mr Farrar, there would not
have been the slightest necessity for the journey to Scotland; and
his setting forth without delay shewed me that he had grave grounds
for believing the document to be a legal one. It was evident that
everything now depended upon the legality of that marriage.
'Well, Mary, what is it? news--good news?' asked Lilian, as she entered
my room. I had sent a message begging her to come to me after dinner,
knowing we should be secure from intrusion there.
'Dear Lilian, what would you consider to be good news?'
'The legality of the marriage being proved, of course,' she answered
promptly.
'I have no news, dear Lilian; but--I want to talk the matter over with
you a little. I am beginning to get very anxious about not hearing from
Mr Wentworth. He must have seen the necessity for going to Scotland;
and if the marriage is proved to be a _bonâ fide_ one, I fear'----
'What do you fear, Mary?'
'Dear Lilian, I foresee something which it is extremely painful to
think of--something which has not, I think, occurred to you.'
'What is that?' she asked wonderingly.
'I do not like to even suggest it, because all may yet be well. Still
it is my duty to warn you that there may be a consequence which you
have not anticipated with reference to the'---- Some one was tapping at
the door, which I had locked, and on opening it, I saw Becky.
'Mr Wentworth has just come, and he wishes to see you by yourself,
please, Miss.'
'Where is he, Becky?'
'In the drawing-room, Miss; and I'll see that nobody shall disturb
you,' mysteriously whispered Becky, who had, I suppose, received a hint
from him that he desired to see me privately.
'Say that I will come immediately;' adding to Lilian, as I hurriedly
made my way towards the door again: 'Will you wait for me here a few
minutes, Lilian?'
But I had said enough to arouse her fears, though she was still in
ignorance as to the cause, and she gravely replied: 'No, Mary; I will
go with you. I know now that you are trying to spare me in some way----
O Mary! why do you look at me like that?--I _will_ go with you and hear
the worst!'
Well I knew that he would be as careful in telling her as I could
be. And if there was indeed bad news, I should be very glad of his
assistance in breaking it to her. We went down together; and one glance
at his face, as we entered the room, warned me to expect the worst.
His grave words, 'I wished to see you alone for a few moments, Miss
Haddon,' confirmed my fears.
'I wished to come--I would come, Mr Wentworth,' said Lilian, slipping
her hand into mine; 'and you must please to let me stay, if what
you have to say concerns me. You have come to tell us what you have
ascertained about the paper I found; have you not?'
I put my arm round her, with a look towards him. She looked from one to
the other of us in some surprise.
'Yes,' he hesitatingly replied; 'I have been to Scotland.'
'Then why do you look at me like that? Why are you both so strange?
Mary, _you_ ought to know there is nothing I should be more rejoiced to
hear than that the marriage was a legal one.'
'It is not that, Lilian.--I have guessed aright; you have been proving
the genuineness of the marriage during your absence; have you not, Mr
Wentworth?' I asked.
'I grieve to say that there was no difficulty in proving it, Miss
Haddon.'
'Grieve! grieve!--when it proves Papa to have acted like an honourable
gentleman, instead of---- O Mary, you too!' turning from him to me,
with a wounded look.
He saw now that the one thing had not yet occurred to her, and turned
silently away. He could not strike the blow.
I drew her to a couch by my side, and said with faltering lips: 'I fear
that it has not occurred to you that, though it might be better for
Marian that her mother's marriage should be proved, it would be worse
for you.'
'Worse for me? Is it possible that you can for one moment be thinking
about the money? Can you suppose that my father's good name is not more
to me than such'----
'Dear Lilian, I was not thinking about the money,' I slowly replied,
with a miserable sickening of the heart as I suddenly realised that the
property also was lost. She would be penniless as well as nameless. I
glanced towards him again. No; there was no hope!
'Then how can it be worse for me? How can it possibly be worse for me
that Papa did right instead of wrong. Please tell me at once what you
mean.'
Alas! the more she dwelt upon the honour, the more she was shewing us
how terribly she would feel the dishonour! My eyes appealed once more
to him for help. But he gravely said: 'Miss Haddon knows what there is
to tell, and it will come best from her.'
So it was left to me. I, who loved her most, had to strike the blow. I
only put one last question to him: 'Is what I most feared realised, Mr
Wentworth?'
He bowed his head in assent, and walked towards the window as I went on:
'Lilian, dear sister--you promised to let me call you that--there _is_
something to be suffered; and though I know you will bear it more
bravely than many would, it will be very hard to bear. In your anxiety
to do justice to Marian, you did not perceive that--it might bring
suffering upon yourself.'
'Doing justice need not bring suffering, Mary.'
'It sometimes may, Lilian. The reward of right doing is not always
reaped at the moment.'
'You are not talking like yourself, Mary. What do you and I care about
getting rewards! Please tell me at once what I have to bear. I know now
that it is something bad; and I know that you are both very sorry for
me.'
'The bad news is the date of Marian's mother's death, Lilian. She died
when you were about two years old.'
She saw; rose to her feet, and stood for a moment with her hands
extended, as though to ward off a blow, and then fell back into my arms.
'Lock the door, please, and help me. She must not be seen by others in
her weakness,' I said, placing her amongst the pillows. 'She will soon
be herself again.' Then I bade him throw open the windows, whilst I
gently fanned her.
In a few moments she opened her eyes, and struggled to her feet.
'Was it a dream--was it?' she ejaculated, looking eagerly into my
face. 'Ah, no!' She was powerless again for a few moments. But she was
gaining strength, and presently insisted upon hearing the whole truth
from Robert Wentworth's own lips.
He saw that it would be more merciful to comply now; and did so
unreservedly. He had been too much interested to leave a stone
unturned, although every step he took more plainly revealed what it was
so painful to discover. He had taken Counsel's advice upon it, and his
own judgment was confirmed: Mr Farrar's marriage with Marian's mother
was a legal one, and Lilian's mother had been no wife in the eye of the
law.
I may as well state here that Mr Farrar received the paper with his
letters to Lucy Reed from Mrs Pratt, after her sister's death, just as
they had been found. I thought that it was not at all probable Marian's
mother had ever realised her position, or she would have taken steps
to secure it. Most probably, Mr Farrar persuaded her that the document
was in some way informal. There is just the possibility that he did not
believe in it himself; and had gone through the ceremony to satisfy
Lucy Reed, whilst she was with him during a tour in Scotland.
Why he did not at once destroy the evidence against himself, when
it came into his possession, since he never could have meant to
acknowledge the marriage, is difficult to understand in a man of Mr
Farrar's calibre--as puzzling as a murderer keeping the evidence of his
crime about him. We only know that such things are not uncommon. It
might have been that Mr Farrar kept the paper to remind him of Marian's
claims upon him, though he never meant them to interfere with Lilian's.
The latter's mother was a gentlewoman, young and beautiful. He had
gratified both love and ambition in marrying her; and after her death,
his love for her child engrossed his whole being. After a few moments'
reflection, I said:
'They will be looking after us presently, Lilian. Would you like Mr
Wentworth to explain to Mr Trafford?'
'Yes,' she whispered; her trembling hands clinging closer about me.
Then, loyal and true to him, she added: 'But remember that I do him the
justice to say that the loss of the---- Only my shame will trouble him.
He has so often wished I had not a penny.'
I could only gather her to my heart, with a look towards him.
His was the hardest task after all! He and I knew that now. He left us
alone; and my Lilian and I tried to find strength for what was to come,
as only such strength can be found. But Lilian would never be the same
again. Her love to her father had been wounded unto death; and I saw
that it was her mother--her cruelly wronged mother--who had all her
sympathy now. I shall never forget the agony expressed in the whispered
words, 'Mother! mother!'
We were not left very long alone. Robert Wentworth could barely have
had time to tell the story, when Arthur Trafford came striding in by
the open window.
'Good heavens, Lilian! what is this?' he ejaculated impetuously;
adding, before she could reply: 'Wentworth tells me that--that you take
this absurd affair seriously!'
'Seriously, Arthur?' she repeated, turning her eyes wonderingly upon
him.
'I mean: he says you mean to act as though that ridiculous paper were
genuine; but surely that is too absurd!'
'Is it not genuine, then?' she eagerly asked, her face for a moment
brightening with hope, as she turned towards me: 'Is there any doubt
about it, Mary?'
'I am sorry to say that I think there is not, Lilian,' I replied;
feeling that it was less cruel to kill her hope at once, than indulge
it. 'Mr Wentworth said he had taken Counsel's advice, you know.'
'Oh, I suppose it may be genuine enough for the kind of thing!' he
said, with an effort to speak lightly. 'But of course, none in their
senses would for a moment dream of acting upon it. At the very best, it
would be only a very doubtful marriage, arranged, I daresay, to satisfy
a not too scrupulous girl's vanity. The thing is done every day; and I
am sure, on reflection, you will not be so Quixotic as to'----
'If the paper is legal, I must do what is right--Arthur,' she murmured
in a low broken tone.
'Do you think it would be right to blacken your mother's good name and
give up the---- All your father wished you to have? The truth is, you
have not reflected upon what your acknowledgment of that paper will
involve, Lilian. You cannot have given any thought to the misery which
would follow. Any _true_ friend of yours would have recommended you to
at once put that paper into the fire.--Is that it?' he added, catching
sight of the paper which Robert Wentworth had put down on the table
before me whilst he was speaking, and which I had neglected to take up.
'Yes, by Jove, and that settles the matter!' catching it up and tearing
it into shreds.--'I am your best friend, Lilian.'
'No, no, no! O Arthur, the shame of it!'
'Do not be distressed, dear Lilian; you forget that is only my copy of
the original,' I said; 'Mr Trafford is spared.'
He tried to laugh. 'Of course I was only in jest, Lilian. But,
seriously now, you should remember that Marian Reed has been brought up
to consider herself what she is. But you---- It cannot be possible that
you would commit an act which would brand your own mother with shame!'
He was quick to see what weapon struck deepest, and did not hesitate to
avail himself of it.
She shrank under his words, with a low cry. Seeing that he was so blind
as to imagine that she would yield through suffering, I sternly said:
'Cannot you see that you are wounding her to no purpose, Mr Trafford?
Lilian will do what she believes to be right, come what may.'
'Not if there is no interference--not if she is allowed to use her own
judgment, Miss Haddon;' turning fiercely upon me. 'Unfortunately, she
has chosen bad advisers!'
'O Arthur!'
'Come out with me, Lilian! I am sure I shall be able to shew you the
folly of this,' he pleaded.
'No, no; I cannot change!--Do not leave me, Mary,' she entreated,
holding fast to me.
'Dear sister,' I whispered, 'I think it will be better for me to leave
you for a few moments. It will be sooner over, and you will find me
in the garden presently.' And gently unclasping her hands, I left her
alone with Arthur Trafford.
UNDERGROUND JERUSALEM.
As is pretty well known, Jerusalem, the City of David, rendered
glorious by the Temple of Solomon, has undergone extraordinary
vicissitudes; has been sacked and burned several times, the last of
its dire misfortunes being its destruction by Titus in the year 70
of our era, when there was a thorough dispersion of the Jewish race.
This ancient city, however, which is invested with so many sacred
memories, always revived somehow after being laid waste, but in a
style very different from the original. As it now stands, Jerusalem
is a comparatively modern town, built out of ruins, and only by
difficult and patient explorations can portions of its ancient remains
be identified. Of the old memorials the most remarkable are those
underground; that is to say, in vaults and obscure places only to be
reached by excavation.
The notification of this fact brings us to a brief but we hope not
uninteresting account of what in very recent times has been done,
and is now doing by the Palestine Exploration Society, by means of
extensive excavations, of which a carefully written description is
given in Captain Warren's _Underground Jerusalem_.
In February 1867, Captain (then Lieutenant) Warren started for
Palestine with three corporals of Engineers, and on the 17th arrived at
Jerusalem after a prosperous and uneventful journey. The city does not
seem to have struck him as being either picturesque or beautiful. 'It
is a city of facts,' he says, 'and but little imagination is required
to describe it.' Yet when viewed from the Mount of Olives, with the
hills of Judah stretching to the south, and the rich valley of the
Jordan glowing like a many-hued gem beneath the vivid sunlight, and
the mountains of Moab cleaving with their purple beauty the soft clear
blue of the Syrian sky, he does not deny to it a certain charm; but his
heart was in his work, and his work lay in the old walls, particularly
those which marked the almost obliterated inclosure of the Temple.
This edifice in the latter days of its glory, after it had been
partially rebuilt by Herod the Great, was a splendid building. To
enable us to realise its gigantic proportions, Captain Warren tells us
that the southern face of the wall is at present nearly the length of
the Crystal Palace, and the height of the transept. The area within
its walls was more extensive than Lincoln's Inn Fields or Grosvenor
Square, and the south wall offered a larger frontage and far greater
height than Chelsea Hospital. It was built of hard white stone, and was
enriched with a variety of coloured marbles, with graceful columns,
with splendid gates overlaid with gold and silver, with gilded roofs,
and with all the gorgeous detail of costly arabesque and carving. So
rich was it in its dazzling magnificence, that it aroused the envy and
cupidity of all the nations around, and finally fell with the city
it adorned before the conquering arms of Titus. The Roman general
tried in vain to save it; fired in the wild fury of the onslaught,
it was consumed to ashes; and its very foundations so obliterated
by the superincumbent rubbish, that for ages its precise site has
been unknown. In fact the only sites in Jerusalem which were known
with absolute certainty were the Mount of Olives and Mount Moriah.
Now, in consequence of the discoveries made during the course of his
excavations, Captain Warren has been able to identify the walls of
the Temple and to make a plan of its courts. He has also found the
spot where the little Hill of Zion formerly stood, the Valley of the
Kidron, and the true position of the Vale of Hinnom; but to accomplish
all this he has had many difficulties to contend with, quite apart
from the necessary labour attending the excavations. The civil and
military pachas did all in their power to hinder him, and would not
allow him to begin to dig at all until a firman from the Sultan arrived
authorising his operations. In the interval of enforced leisure,
before the Vizieral permission arrived, he paid some necessary visits
in Jerusalem, and then made arrangements for a tour in the lonely
wilderness country which stretches to the east of the city.
A camp-life, we are told, is at once the most healthy and the most
enjoyable in the East. In summer, the domed houses of Jerusalem are
intolerable from heat and unpleasant odours; but out on the wide
open upland, with a good horse, galloping along the dewy plains in
the fresh exhilarating morning breeze; or stretched at night on a
carpet of wild-flowers, lazily watching the pitching of the tent; or
following with idle glance the myriads of bright-hued birds that dart
like rainbow-tinted jewels from branch to branch of the fragrant wild
myrtle--there is no land like Palestine for enjoyment. Look where you
will, the view is interesting; that village nestling on the hill-side
is Nain--the Fair; that picturesque rounded hill clothed to the summit
with wood is Tabor; yonder dazzling snow-crowned mountain is Hermon;
and far off in the hollow of the plain, silent and still, you may see
gleaming in the sunshine the sullen waves of that mysterious Sea that
ages ago ingulfed the guilty Cities of the Plain. Around you, too near
sometimes to be pleasant, are the black tents of the Bedouin, true
sons of the desert, whose wild life has a zest unknown to the courts
of kings: greedy of bakshish, arrant thieves, and utterly reckless of
human life, the Bedouins can be very unpleasant neighbours; and Captain
Warren conceived, probably with truth, that the Bedouin encamped near
him had all the will to be troublesome, but fortunately lacked the
power.
Having examined the aqueducts which anciently brought water to the
Pools of Solomon, Captain Warren visited and explored a curious cave at
Khureitûn, or rather a series of four caves opening into each other,
which appeared to him to be the veritable Cave of Adullam, where David
and his band of malcontents found refuge.
Permission from the Grand Vizier having arrived, and the necessary
interview with Izzet Pacha being over, the excavations were at once
begun, and then the magnitude of the proposed operations was for the
first time fully realised by Captain Warren. He had heard vaguely that
modern Jerusalem was built upon sixty feet of rubbish; but he found
that the layers of accumulated debris extended to one hundred and
thirty, and sometimes two hundred feet in depth. For workmen, he had
the peasantry around, who were unaccustomed to the use of the spade
and barrow. They worked only with the mattock, and used rush-baskets
for carrying out the earth. Another obstacle to progress was the want
of wood; not a plank was to be obtained except at a fabulous price. In
spite of all these difficulties, however, he discovered in the first
four months a portion of the ancient city wall; he identified the real
Kidron Valley, which runs into the present one, and is choked up with
rubbish to the depth of one hundred and fifty feet; and ascertained
that the present brook Kidron runs one hundred feet to the east of, and
forty feet above the true bottom of the stream. Thus it would seem that
the desolate inclosures of modern Jerusalem, its paltry and yet crowded
bazaars, and its gloomy narrow streets, entomb with the beauty and
glory and hallowed memories of the past, even those landmarks of nature
which we are accustomed to consider most changeless and imperishable.
Beneath its wastes lie forgotten valleys and hills, streams which have
ceased to flow, and fountains which have long been empty and sealed.
Having obtained the necessary apparatus from England, Captain Warren
sunk shafts into the mounds of ruin near Jericho; but found only a few
jars of ancient pottery, which crumbled into dust whenever they were
exposed to the air.
It was now April, the loveliest month in the Syrian year, and the
valley of the Jordan, which a few more weeks would transform into a
parched brown desert, was in all the flush and glory of its green
luxuriance. The wide plain glowed in the tender flush of the dawn like
one vast emerald, while countless flowers unfolded their dewy petals,
rich with rainbow tints of beauty, as if Iris were about to weave a
gorgeous mantle for the departing summer; while hurrying onward to its
dark mysterious Sea rushed the rapid river, its waters gleaming like
crystal through the flowering branches of oleander which fringed its
banks.
When out on this expedition, Captain Warren made the acquaintance of
the Samaritans at Nâblus, and saw them hold their Passover in front of
their ruined temple on Mount Gerizim. It was a striking scene, such as
the gloomy brush of a Rembrandt might have loved to paint. As night
darkened down over the landscape, it lent to the rugged wildness of the
surrounding scenery a dim indistinctness, which gave vastness to its
savage outlines; while in the foreground, tall ghoul-like figures in
long white robes flitted about from one reeking oven-mouth to another,
watching the sacred Passover lambs as they were in process of being
roasted or rather charred with fire; while the moonlight straggling
through the mist mingled with the smoky glare of the torches, and lit
up from time to time the dark keen wily faces of the worshippers,
crafty and yet fierce, expressive of the mingled courage and guile with
which, although few in number, despised and demoralised, they have yet
held and still hold their own.
The portions of the plain of Jordan at present under cultivation are
very limited, and the crops raised consist of wheat, cucumbers, and
tobacco.
During this tour Captain Warren had for guide or guard a certain Sheik
Salah, who he says 'was really a good fellow; and if he had not talked
so complacently of marrying an English wife, I should have felt quite
friendly to him. This was his hobby. He had a great desire to go to
England for this purpose; evidently supposing that he had only to
appear there to take his choice of the first in the land.'
After three months of wandering through the country, Captain Warren
returned to Jerusalem, to find fresh difficulties staring him in the
face. The Turks did not keep faith with him; and he was obliged to
prosecute the dragoman of the English Consulate, who had imposed upon
him.
On the 10th of September his right-hand man, Sergeant Brattles, was
taken into custody; and concluding, like the Apostle Paul, that he was
a citizen of no mean nation, he refused to walk out of prison, when
asked to do so, until the charges against him were investigated. This
ended in his speedy release; and the works went on, resulting in the
discovery of the gymnasium gardens built by Antiochus Epiphanes, the
pier of the great arch destroyed by Titus, and a very ancient rock
aqueduct, which was found to be cut in two by the wall of Herod's
Temple. An old arch was also discovered, which Captain Warren conceives
to be a portion of a bridge connecting Solomon's palace with the
eastern side of the valley. Extending their researches by means of the
rock-cut aqueduct, they were so fortunate as to find also an old drain,
through which they crawled, and examined the whole wall as far as that
well-known portion of it commonly designated 'The Jews' Wailing-place.'
This aqueduct was so large that a man mounted on horseback might have
ridden through it, and proved of great service to the exploring party
until they found it cut through by the foundations of a house. During
this month also they discovered the great south wall of the Temple. It
has two entrances, known as the Double and Triple Gate; and besides
these a single gate with a pointed arch was discovered leading to the
vaults called Solomon's Stables. These vaults are of comparatively
recent date (of the time of Justinian); but it struck Captain Warren
that this single gate being at a place where the vaults were widest,
was probably over some ancient entrance. He sunk a shaft beside it, and
after much labour succeeded in clearing out an ancient passage lined
with beautifully cut stones, with a groove at the bottom cut for liquid
to flow along. This he concluded was the channel for the blood of the
beasts slain in sacrifice, and he wished to push forward straight to
the altar and ascertain its position, but was forced to desist by the
opposition of the Turks. To this was added money difficulties, from
which he was soon happily relieved, and enabled with a light heart to
begin excavations within the area of the Temple. On the south-west side
there is a double tunnel called the Double Passage, which is one of the
most sacred of the Moslem praying-places. With great difficulty and
only by a ruse, this hallowed spot was at last examined; but nothing of
importance was obtained from it. The same may be said of a remarkable
expedition into a sewer, which was certainly plucky, even heroic, but
barren of any great result.
Aqueducts appear to be the order of the day in underground Jerusalem.
Near a curious double rock-cut pool, which Captain Warren conceives
to be the Pool of Bethesda, a rock-cut passage was noticed by Major
Wilson filled with moist sewage. It was four feet wide, and had five
or six feet of sewage in it when Captain Warren and Sergeant Brattles
examined it. They accomplished their perilous voyage by means of three
doors, taking up the hindmost as they advanced; and being everywhere
obliged to exercise the greatest caution, as a single false step might
have precipitated them into the Stygian stream below, which would
have proved to them a veritable Styx; for once in, nothing could have
rescued them from its slimy abyss. Fortunately, no accident occurred;
but they discovered nothing beyond the fact that it was one of the
aqueducts which had brought water to the Temple from the north.
About this time the Jews began to take a great interest in the
excavations. There are on an average about ten thousand of them in
Jerusalem, gathered out of every nation under heaven; but the bulk
of them are either Ashkenazim (German Jews) or Sephardim (Jews from
Morocco). The Sephardim are a dark robust race, with the traditional
hooked nose of the Jews; the Ashkenazim are more fragile; and their
women are often very beautiful--tall and stately as Sir Walter Scott's
Rebecca, with lustrous almond-shaped eyes, black glossy hair, a
delicate complexion, and a bloom so vivid that it puts to shame the
blush of the damask rose.
It is the custom for all the Jews in Jerusalem to assemble every Friday
at their Place of Wailing, under the west wall of the Temple court,
there to lament aloud the calamities which have befallen their nation.
It is a striking sight to see them at this mournful place of meeting.
Differing in nationality, in dress, in language, in intelligence, in
rank, they are united only by the curse, which has preserved them
through centuries of persecution and exile, a separate and distinct
people among the teeming myriads of the earth. There they lie before
the curious gazer, old men and youth, matron and maid, prone on their
faces on the pavement, or rocking themselves back and forward in
their anguish; while the air resounds with their bitter wailing and
lamentation, on which sometimes breaks harshly the loud laugh of the
careless Frank, or the cold sneer of the haughty Moslem.
In January 1869 Captain Warren received a letter of instructions,
directing him to abandon those portions of the work which did not
promise immediate results. He had discovered in the Temple inclosure
the north wall of Herod's Temple, but found it impossible to follow it
up. He also came upon the old wall of Ophel, a portion of the first
wall of the city. On stones in this wall were found characters which
the most competent judges declared to be Phœnician; and also incised
marks, such as are found on the old walls of Damascus and Baalbec.