That was a brilliant scene, the passage of the lake; and the picturesque

elements almost surpassed the fantastic;--the jolly-boats of the steamers,

leading the way with the men of her Majesty's 84th, followed by the

Zenobia's gig, bearing the Governor-General's letter, with the Honorable

East India Company's jack saucily flaunting at the bow; then other gigs and

cutters, with the Envoy's suite; and, lastly, a gorgeously gilded war-boat,

carrying the Envoy and the Woons, with fifty Burman oarsmen rowing to a

wild chant. The white spire and pinnacles of the Ananda temple, with its

grove of noble cotton-trees and tall palms, sharply defined against the

boldly diversified ranges of the Shan Mountains, formed the background of

the picture, which derived rich color and grotesque action from the Burmese

soldiers of the Envoy's guard lining the banks, and the hurly-burly of

half-naked, splashing villagers, waist-deep in the lake,--_salvages

coupes_.

First in the procession went the cases of royal presents, borne by Burmese

porters on bamboo litters, and followed by four Arab horses and an English

carriage for the King; next came the cavalry and infantry of the Envoy's

Anglo-Indian escort, preceded by a band; behind these, the Secretary of the

mission on an elephant, with the Governor-General's letter under the

Company's jack; the Envoy (Major Phayre) in a _tonjon_, attended by the

Nan-ma-dau Woon and the Woondouk on elephants; the British superintending

surgeon in Pegu, and the Tara-Thoogyi; a British special deputy

commissioner for the frontier, and one of the Tsa-re-dau-gyis, or Royal

Scribes; and all the rest of the British officials, each paired with a

Burmese _thoo-gyi_ or "great man," in a Burmese howdah.[3]

The route lay through the street called Ambassador's Row,--the very one by

which the Chinese Envoys entered Amarapoora sixty years before,--toward the

western central gate of the city. From lake to palace the way was fenced

with troops; but such troops!--fishermen and convicts, old men and

boys,--probably old women too, and girls,--the he and she Warts, Mouldys,

Shadows, Feebles, and Bullcalfs of the Immortal City. At every cross street

were officers on elephants, "men in gilt Mambrino helmets and mountebank

costumes, decked out with triple buckram capes, and shoulder lappets, and

paltry embroidery." But there were men in red jackets and _papier-mache_

helmets accompanying the procession, who appeared to be more at home with

their arms than these motley musketeers. Inside the city the streets were

flooded with water from a heavy rain the night before, and here the

soldiers were propped on little stools of bamboo, to keep them out of the

mud, while the officers occupied higher perches, each with his spittoon and

his box of betel. A great rabble of spectators, of whom many were

women,--not all uncomely or shabbily attired,--peeped through the endless

white lattice, or thronged the cross-streets,--all still and silent, with

wonder or suspicion.

Just as the escort, with fixed bayonets and martial music, turned up the

street leading to the eastern gate of the palace, and, halting, faced

inward for the party to pass, the procession of the Ein-she-men, or heir

apparent, (Lord of the Eastern Palace,) came suddenly up from another road,

and crossed before them to enter the enclosure,--a stale trick of Burmese

jealousy and insolence to keep them waiting at the palace gate. Precedent,

which is a god in Burmah, has bestowed a sort of respectability upon this

exploit in bad manners, every British envoy having been treated so, from

Fleetwood to Phayre. The prince himself was conspicuous in a massive gilded

litter, borne by many sturdy fellows elaborately tattooed, while eight

long-shafted gold umbrellas flashed over his head. When he had entered the

gate, and it was closed behind him, his retinue, consisting of several

hundred soldiers, performed some intricate and tedious evolutions,

countermarching round an open circle, with the manifest purpose of

magnifying the apparent strength of the force, as well as of prolonging the

detention of the unwelcome strangers.

When Colonel Burney, who was sent as Resident to Ava in 1830, was detained

by the same manoeuvre at the stockade which encircles the palace wall,

some of his party were sharp enough to discover that many of the retainers,

as well as of the elephants and bands of music, after passing in the suite

of one prince, made a sly circuit to the rear, and appeared as part of the

tail of another prince.

As the Envoy and his suite dismounted, noon was struck by alternate strokes

on a great bell and a great drum, mounted on a square tower within the gate

called "Ywe-dau-yoo-Taga," or the Royal Gate of the Chosen, because it is

guarded by picked troops. By this gate they entered; but first the Envoy

took the Governor-General's letter from the Secretary, and carried it

himself. The Nan-ma-dau-Phra Woon and his august colleagues now threw off

their shoes, and the Woondouk strove ineffectually to induce the

representative of Great Britain to follow their loyal example. At four

different points, as they advanced to the inner gate, they even dropped on

their knees, and _shikhoed_, with their faces in the dust, toward the

palace; and again Burmah pressed Bull to take part in the pious services,

but the obstinate infidel _Kala_[4] would not; for you see the world has

moved, and Anglo-Saxon backbones have stiffened, since Fleetwood wrote, in

1695: "As the palace gates were opened we fell down upon our knees, and

made three bows (_shikhos_), which done, we entered the garden, the

presents following; and having gone about half-way from the gate to the

place where the king was seated, we made three bows again as before. When

we got within fifteen yards of the king, we made three bows again, and were

ordered to sit down." Between Fleetwood and Phayre are two wars, several

annexations, "a lot" of custom-houses, and "no end" of bomb-shells.

The gilded colonnade, and the many-storied spire, conspicuous from all

sides of the city; the great inner court, with its groups of tumblers,

jugglers, and dancers, performing in the corners for the entertainment of

privileged spectators; the dirty grand-staircase, where, to their lively

disgust, the distinguished strangers, Envoy and all, had to leave their

shoes; the long wings of the structure, curiously resembling the transepts

of a cathedral; the choir-like centre; the altar-like throne; the tall,

lacquered columns, picked out in red at the base, and all ablaze with

gilding;--by these the great Hall of Audience was known; and here, on a

carpet in the centre, facing the throne, the Envoy and his party seated

themselves, doubling their legs behind them.

On a broad dais blazed the high throne, in all its barbaric gorgeousness of

carving and gilding,--competing in splendor with the awful seats of Guadma

in the temples, and surpassing the glory of the pulpit from which the High

Poonghyi[5] chants the beatitudes of the Boodh. On the top it was

luxuriously mattressed with crimson velvet, and on the left was a tall

elbow-cushion for the king. A carved portal, with gilded lattice doors,

opened from behind to the top level of the throne, which was wrought in a

sort of mosaic of gold, silver, and mirror-work. A few small figures,

representing the progenitors of the human race, occupied niches in the

central band, while on the edge of the dais stood five royal emblems, in

the shape of gilded shafts, with small gilt labels or scrolls, like flags,

attached to them.

On each side of the dais were pew-like recesses, with railings; and rows of

expanded white umbrellas, fringed with muslin valances, (the royal

insignia,) were displayed along the walls behind the throne. The central

hall or aisle, in which the gentlemen of the mission sat, was laid with

velvet-pile carpet of Axminster or Lasswade; elsewhere there was matting

merely, except where the more distinguished officers of the court had their

separate carpets. A double row of young princes, in surcoats of gold and

silver brocade, with gay silk _putsos_, occupied the centre aisle in front

of the Envoy;--on the right, four sons of the King; on the left, four sons

of the Crown Prince. Farther forward, near the steps of the dais, the

Ein-she-men himself was installed, in a sort of couch or carved litter,

scarcely raised above the floor. In his robes of Benares gold brocade, and

his superb mitre set with precious stones, he sat still as an effigy, never

turning round, but betraying his curiosity by the use he slyly made of a

small looking-glass. Behind the pillars on each side, and a little in

advance of the Englishmen, were the Woongyis, or principal minister of

state, constituting the Hlwot-dau, the High Court and Council; and nearer

to the steps of the dais were several elderly princes of the blood, "men of

sensual aspect and heavy jowl, like the heads of some of the burlier

Caesars,--or, with their stiff robes and jewelled tiaras, perhaps recalling

certain of the old Popes."[6] Close to the Envoy's party were two of the

_Atwen-woons_, or Ministers of the Interior (Household) Council, and some

_Nekhan-daus_, "Royal Ears," besides other officers of the Palace and

Hlwot-dau.

The Envoy, on taking his seat, had deposited the salver with the

Governor-General's letter on a gilt stool covered with muslin, which had

been placed there to receive it. Little gilt stands, containing trays of

tobacco, pawn, _hlapet_, or pickled tea, and other curious confections,

neatly set out in golden cups and saucers, together with water-goglets and

gold drinking-cups, were then laid before the Kala guests, the water being

faintly perfumed with musk.

At last, from some mysterious inner court of the palace came a burst of

music. From the verandas behind the throne a party of musketeers filed in,

and, taking position between the pillars on each side of the centre aisle,

knelt down, with their double-barrelled pieces between their knees, and

their hands clasped before them in an attitude of prayer.

As the last man entered the golden lattice doors, the doors rolled back

into the wall, and the King was seen, mounting a stair leading from a

chamber behind to the summit of the throne. He ascended slowly, using his

golden-sheathed _dhar_ as a staff to his laboring steps; and no wonder, for

his jewelled robe alone weighed one hundred pounds. Having dusted the

_gudhi_ with his own hand, by means of a small _chowree_, or fly-flapper,

he had brought with him, he took his seat on the left side of the throne,

resting his elbow on the velvet cushion, which had been covered with a

napkin. Then the Queen, who had followed him closely, seated herself by his

side,--on the right, and a little behind him,--where she received from the

hands of female attendants, who showed themselves but for a moment, the

golden spittoon and other ungraceful conveniences, which, on all occasions

and in all places, must be at the elbow of every Burmese dignitary. Next,

she fanned herself for a few moments, and then she fanned the King; and

finally, having been served with a lighted cheroot by the shy fingers of

some mysterious maid of honor, she smoked in silent expectation.

The Lord of White Elephants and Righteousness is a portly man, with refined

features, an agreeable and intelligent expression, and delicate hands. He

wore a sort of long tunic, or surcoat, so thickly set with jewels that the

material, a kind of light-colored silk, was overlaid and almost hidden.

_Tha-ra-poo_, the crown, is a round tiara of similar material, in shape

like an Indian morion, surmounted by a spire-like ornament several inches

high, and expanding in flaps or wings over each ear.

The Queen, who, like all her predecessors, is her husband's half-sister,

wore a perfectly close cap, covering hair and ears, and forming, as it

rose, a conical crest, with the point curved forward in a volute, like the

horn of a rhinoceros, or the large nipper of a crab's claw; close lappets

hung over the cheeks. The rest of her Majesty's dress was oddly

Elizabethan; the sleeves and skirt in "successive overlapping scalloped

lappets"; around the throat a high collar, also scalloped or vandyked, and

continued in front to the waist, where blazed a stomacher, or breast-plate,

of great gems. Both cap and robe were stiff with diamonds. The Queen's name

is Tsoo-phragyi, and she is the eldest daughter of her husband's father,

King Tharawadi.

On a pedestal between their Majesties, in front of the throne, stood a

great golden figure of the _Henza_, or Sacred Goose,--the national emblem.

When the awful pair had fairly entered, the Englishmen for the first time

took off their hats; but the entire audience of subjects bowed their faces

to the earth, and clasped their hands before them. "The two rows of little

princes, who lay in file, doubled over one another like fallen books on a

shelf, and the two Atwen-woons, grovelled forward, in their frog-like

attitude, to a point about half-way to the throne."

Then some eight or ten Brahmins (two of whom are court astrologers), in

white stoles, and white mitres encircled with gold leaves, entered the

screened pew-like recesses near the throne, and struck up a choral chant in

Sanscrit; which done, one of them immediately followed in a solo hymn in

Burmese, which is thus translated by the Envoy, Major Phayre:--

1. "May the dangers and enmity which arise from the Ten Points be calmed

and subdued! May the affliction of disease never attach itself to thee; and

in accordance with the blessings declared in the sacred Pali, mayest thou

be continually victorious! May thy life be prolonged for more than a

hundred years, and may thy glory continue till the end of the world! Mayest

thou enjoy whatever is propitious, and may all evil be far from thee,--O

KING!

2. "Thy glorious reputation diffuses itself like the scent of the

sandal-wood, and exceeds the refulgence of the moon! Lord of the Celestial

Elephant,--of the Excellent White Elephant! Master of the Celestial Weapon!

Lord of Life, and Great Chief of Righteousness! Lineal descendant of

Mahatha-mada and Mahadha-mayadza! Like unto the Kings of the Universe, who

governed the four great islands of the solar system, and were versed in

charms and spells of fourteen descriptions, may thy glory be prolonged, and

thy life be extended, to more than a hundred years! Mayest thou enjoy

whatever is propitious, and may all evil be far from thee,--O KING!

3. "Great Chief of Righteousness! whose fame spreads like the fragrance of

sandal-wood, and exceeds the glorious light of the moon,--in whom is

concentrated all glory and honor,--who, with her Majesty, the Queen, the

lineal descendant of anointed kings, happily governest all,--may thy rule

extend, not only to the great Southern Island (the earth), which is tens of

thousands of miles in extent, but to all the four grand and five hundred

smaller Islands! May it equal the stability of the mountains Yoo-gan-toh,

Myen-mo, and Hai-ma-garee; and until the end of the world mayest thou and

thy descendants continue in unbroken line, unto the royal son and royal

great-grandson, that thy glory may endure for countless ages! And may thy

royal life be prolonged for more than a hundred years,--O KING!

4. "May our king be continually victorious! When the divine Buddha ascended

the golden throne, all created beings inhabiting millions of worlds became

his subjects, and he overcame all enemies. So may kings by hundreds and

thousands, and tens of thousands, come with offerings of celestial weapons,

white elephants, flying horses, virgins, and precious stones of divers

sorts, and do homage to the Golden Feet, which resemble the germs of the

lotos,--O KING!"

Now, even for an exploit in poetical license, that is sublimely cool,

considering that a mere yesterday of thirty years has sufficed to strip the

Throne of the Golden Foot of dominions which were the gradual acquisition

of more than two bloody centuries of drunken lust, and that the dread Lord

of Life and Master of the Celestial Weapon well knew that day that he no

longer had access to the sea save through many leagues of British

territory,--considering that the chronicle of the Burmese kings is one of

the bloodiest chapters in the book of Time, a record of hell-engendered

monsters, conceived in incest, brought forth in insanity, trained to the

very sport of slaughter, and doomed to quick assassination or the most

summary deposition and disgrace,--considering that even this "just and

humane" Mendoon-men himself had deposed his cock-fighting brother, the

Pagan-men, and sacked and burned his capital, and that even now he held him

a close prisoner, poor and despised, in a corner of the fortified

city,--and finally, that even as that paean of infatuation ascends to the

besotted ears of the King, given up of God to believe lies, his own

brother, the Ein-she-men, possessed of a devil of precedent, crouches like

a tiger below the dais, and plots assassination and usurpation in his

cunning bit of looking-glass.

The chants concluded, the Tara-Thoogyi read from a _parabeik_, or black

note-book, an address to the King, stating that the offerings his Majesty

purposed making to certain pagodas at the capital were ready. "Let them be

dedicated!" said one of the officials solemnly; and the music was renewed.

This dedication, the chant of the Brahmins, and the singular ceremony of

_A-beit-theit_ (literally, a pouring out of water on a solemn occasion),

together constitute the formal inauguration of a royal sitting. Then the

Governor-General's letter was drawn from its cover, and read aloud by a

Than-daugan, or Receiver of the Royal Voice, who also read the list of

presents for the King and Queen. A railway model, contributed by Sir

Macdonald Stephenson, was immediately produced and exhibited in the

Hall,--the only one of the presents uncovered there,--and excited lively

interest among the Burmese. All the readings were intoned in a high

recitative, like the English Cathedral service; and the long-drawn

"Phra-a-a-a!" (My Lord!) was delivered like the "Amen" of the Liturgy.

After this, his Majesty, without moving his lips, but speaking by an

Atwen-woon, who discharged for that occasion the function of Royal Tongue,

condescended to address to the Envoy three formal questions, prescribed by

custom and precedent, thus:--

_Royal Tongue._ "Is the English ruler well?"

_Envoy._ "The English ruler is well."

_Receiver of the Royal Voice_ (in a loud tone). "By reason of your

Majesty's great glory and excellence, the English ruler is well; and

therefore, with obeisance, I represent the same to your Majesty."

_Royal Tongue._ "How long is it since you left the English country?"

_Envoy._ "It is now fifty-five days since we left Bengal, and have arrived,

and lived happily, at the Royal City."

_Receiver of the Royal Voice._ "By reason of your Majesty's great glory

and excellence it is fifty-five days since the Envoy left the English

country, and he has now happily arrived at the Golden Feet. Therefore, with

obeisance," &c., &c.

_Royal Tongue._ "Are the rain and air propitious, so that the people live

in happiness and ease?"

_Envoy._ "The seasons are favorable, and the people live in happiness."

_Receiver of the Royal Voice._ "By reason of your Majesty's great glory and

excellence, the rain and air are propitious, and the people live in

happiness."

And here the awful conversation came to a profound close. Gifts were

presently bestowed on all the officers of the mission;--to the Envoy a gold

cup embossed with the zodiacal signs, a fine ruby, a tsalwe of nine cords,

and a handsome putso; to other officers, a plain gold cup, ring, and putso,

or a ring and putso only.

Then the King rose to depart, the Queen assisting him to rise, and

afterward using the royal dhar to help herself up. "They passed through the

gilded lattice, the music played again, the doors rolled out from the wall,

and we were told that we might retire."

On the twenty-first, Major Phayre had a private interview, by appointment,

with the King. The reception was almost _en famille_. As the Envoy

approached the palace, he found the assembled court under a circular

temporary building, called a _Mandat_, where music and dancing were going

on,--the King half reclined on a kind of sofa in a room raised several feet

above the level of the mandat. The Envoy was led forward and shown to a

place among the ministers, who, as well as all the rest of the company,

were seated on the ground,--only the dancers standing. Outside squatted

guards in red jackets, with red _papier-mache_ helmets, and muskets with

the buts resting between their legs. Eight couples of men and women were

dancing. The King did not speak to Major Phayre, but, on the contrary,

retired as he entered, and sent him word that he would see him in another

room; where again he found his Majesty reclining on a sofa, no longer in

imperial costume, but the ordinary garb of the country,--a silk putso, or

waist-cloth, of gay colors, a white cotton jacket, reaching a little below

the hips, and a single fillet of book-muslin twisted round his head. On his

left, at a little distance, were some half-dozen of his sons, "of all ages

up to sixteen years," crouching on the ground, with their chins touching

it. A band of girls in fantastic court-dresses were in an anteroom,

discoursing soft music on stringed instruments. One of the Atwen-woons,

with several other officers of the court, and a few pages, had followed the

Envoy, and now sat together near the end of the room. The King held up his

hand, and the music ceased. He then requested the Envoy to notice some

large imitation lotos-flowers in a vase; and as he spoke, the buds, which

had been closed, suddenly expanded, and out of one of them flew a solitary

sparrow. The king smiled, and one of the company said, "Each bud had a bird

imprisoned, but they managed to escape, all but this one."

Then the King said to the Envoy, "Have you read the Mengala-thoot?"

"I have, your Majesty."

"Do you know the meaning of it?"

"I do. I have read the Burmese interpretation."

"How many precepts does it contain?"

"Thirty-eight."

"Do you remember them?"

The Envoy did not; so the King repeated some of the precepts of this

summary of beatitude,--a sermon of Guadma's, containing thirty rules of

life, against pride, anger, evil associates, and the like.

Then followed much talk about a treaty which the Envoy was anxious to

procure; but the King, with diplomatic adroitness, put him off; for the

Burmese hate treaties, and always break them. Said his Majesty, very dryly:

"I have heard a great deal of you, and that you are wise and well

disposed. I should not have taken the same pains to receive every one; I

should have done according to custom. You have commenced well. But in a

man's life, and in every transaction, there is a beginning, a middle, and

an end,"--illustrating the remark by running his finger along the hilt of

his dhar of state, which lay on a stand before him.

"Did you receive the marble pagoda I sent you?"

"I did, your Majesty, and have brought a singing-bird box, as a token of my

thanks."

"I am going to bestow on you a ring, which you will find very curious."

Here a ring, half sapphire and half topaz, was brought in, and presented to

the Envoy.

The King expressed a wish to engage some one to take charge of his ruby

mines, and especially his lively desire to procure a model of a human

skeleton, made of wood, and so arranged that the action of the joints in

sitting and rising should be shown. The Envoy promised to attend to this.

Some trays of cakes and sweetmeats were then brought in, and the King,

having particularly recommended one or two of the dishes to the Envoy,

retired. During the interview his Majesty behaved with much courtesy and

kindness. One of his children, about eighteen months old, ran in two or

three times, naked as he was born, and climbed up on the couch; the young

sons now and then lighted the King's cheroot, and gave him water to drink.

On the 2d of October the Envoy is again with the King in the small

pavilion; about a hundred persons are present, including two Atwen-woons,

the Nan-ma-dau-Phra Woon, and several Shan Tsaub-was, but none of the

Woongyis. The King asked the Envoy if he had been to the Pyee-Kyoung to see

the Tshaya-dau, or Royal Teacher, Patriarch or Bishop of all the Monks.

"I have, your Majesty."

"Did he discourse to you, and did you approve of what he said?"

"He discoursed on moral duties, and what he said was very proper."

"You know what we call the Ten Virtues.[7] Do you approve of them?"

"They are most excellent."

"What length of time, according to your books, is a Kamba?" (A complete

revolution of nature, a geological period, it might almost be called.)

"Our books, your Majesty, do not contain that."

"Well, we say that in a Kamba the life period of man gradually advances

from the limit of ten years to an Athenkhya,[8] and then gradually

diminishes from that down to ten years again. When that has been repeated

sixty-four times it constitutes a period, which again is repeated

sixty-four times; and when four such compound periods have been repeated,

the whole era is called a Kamba, or a grand revolution of the universe. The

world is then destroyed, and a new era commences."

The King then entered into a long discourse on the history of the

Mahan-Zat, or life of Guadma in one of his former births, the gist of which

was that a king who had a wise minister could get anything he set his heart

upon. After which he related the story of a king of Benares, who had three

birds' eggs brought to him; one produced a parrot, one an owl, and the

other a _mainah_; and to each of these, in course of time, a department of

the state was intrusted, but the highest, politics, fell to the parrot.

"I believe," to the Envoy, ironically, "your English kings have existed for

two hundred years or more. Have they not?"

"The English nation, your Majesty, have had kings to reign over them for

fifteen hundred years."

"_My_ ancestors have come in regular descent from King Mahatha-mada" (the

first king who established government on the earth,--many millions of years

ago, at the beginning of the present Kamba, in fact).

_Envoy_ (to one of the Atwen-woons, to show that he knew that no such king

had ever reigned in Burmah). "Which of the royal cities did Mahatha-mada

build?"

The Atwen-woon only stared.

"O," said the quick-witted Woondouk, "that king reigned in

Myit-tshe-ma-detha [_the Middle land_, India]."

_King._ "Our race once reigned in all the countries you hold. Now the Kalas

have come close up to us."

_Envoy._ "It is very true, your Majesty."

"Have you read any part of our Maha-Radza-Weng [_Chronicles of the

Kings_]?"

"I have read portions of them, your Majesty, and am very anxious to read

more."

"Well, I will present you with a complete copy, and also a copy of the 550

Zats, and the Mahan-Zats; and when you come again I shall expect to find

that you have studied them. I should like to have a copy of your Radza-Weng

[_History of Kings_]."

"That I will present to your Majesty."

"It is only right, and the part of a wise man, to gather instruction from

the records of the past and the works of sages. By the study of these books

you will be enabled to divine people's thoughts from their appearance, and

may aspire to the most difficult of all attainments,--the discerning of

which is the greater principle, matter or spirit."

The King then inquired if the Envoy had visited the Royal Tanks, at

Oungben-le and other places, which had been recently constructed.

"I have not, your Majesty; but I purpose going."

"I have caused ninety-nine tanks and ancient reservoirs to be dug, or

repaired, and sixty-six canals, whereby a great deal of rice land will be

made available. In the reign of Naurabha-dzyai 9999 tanks and canals were

constructed. I purpose renewing them."

"Ninety-nine" in Burmese signifies a large number merely. Thus, Captain

Hannay was told that there were ninety-nine _jheels_, or lakes, in the

district of Tagoung. An ancient king of Aracan is said to have founded

ninety-nine cities on each side of the Aracan River. The Burmese speak of

the ninety-nine towns of the Shan country. Duttagamini, king of Ceylon, is

said to have built ninety-nine great temples. The Buddhist physiology

reckons ninety-nine joints and ninety-nine thousand pores of the human

body.[9]

At a later interview, the Envoy took particular note of the personal

appearance of this royal barbarian. His skin was smooth and clear, and his

bright black eyes twinkled, and displayed a true Chinese obliquity when he

laughed, as he did every two or three minutes. His mustache was good, his

throat and jaws were very massive, his chest and arms remarkably well

developed, and his hands clean and small. The retreating forehead, which

marked him as a descendant of Alompra, was especially conspicuous.

He reclined, in a characteristic attitude, on a splendid sofa, wrought in

mosaic of gilding and looking-glass, spread with a rich yellow velvet

mattress, bordered with crimson; and a corresponding rug, of crimson

bordered with yellow, was spread below for the regalia. These consisted of

a fantastic gilded ornament, "in size and shape much like a pair of stag's

antlers," festooned with a muslin scarf, and intended to receive the royal

dhar; and of the large golden Henza, set with precious stones. Other royal

paraphernalia, such as the golden spittoon and salver, and the stand for

the water-goglet, with its conical golden cover set with gems, were brought

in and deposited on the rug when his Majesty appeared. Dancing-women were

performing in the central aisle before the throne, to the music of a group

of female minstrels, gayly attired, and crowned with pagoda-shaped tiaras,

like those worn by the princes in the plays.

Speaking of the Maha-Radza-Weng, and other books which he had ordered to be

brought for the Envoy, the King said: "The mass of earth, water, and air

which composes the Great Island [the earth] and Mount Myen-mo is vast, but

learning is more stupendous still, and great labor is necessary to acquire

it. Do you [the Envoy] know how many elements there are in a man's body?"

"I cannot inform your Majesty."

"The body consists of a great number of particles, small as flour or dust.

One hair of the head appears like a single fibre, yet it is made up of a

great number of smaller fibres; just as one of the long ropes you sound the

depth of water with is composed of many short fibres. Of the elements,

earth enters into the bones, and water into the hair."

In this connection, Captain Yule has an interesting note to the first

chapter of his narrative:--"There seems to turn up now and then in the

science of the Buddhists a very curious parody, as it were, or chance

suggestion, of some of the great truths or speculations of modern science;

just as there are circumstances of their religion which seem to run

parallel with circumstances and forms of Christianity or Christian

churches, and which made the old Jesuit fathers think that the Devil had,

of malice aforethought, prepared these travesties of Christian rites and

mysteries among the heathen, in order to cast ridicule on the Church, and

bar her progress. An example of what I allude to is found here, as regards

electricity, in their apparent knowledge of the non-conducting power of

glass. In the Buddhist theory of the universe, we have an infinity of

contemporary systems, each provided with its sun and planets, analogous to

the commonly received opinion of the plurality of worlds. We have also

their infinite succession of creations and destructions by fire or water,

analogous to a formerly popular geological theory. They hold the

circulation of the blood, after a fashion. The King's conversations at

Amarapoora indicated his belief in the atomic constitution of the body, and

of the existence of a microscopic world, though his illustrations were not

accurate. And when Mr. Crawfurd published his account of fossil elephant

bones from the Irrawaddi, Colonel Burney tells us that the Burmese

philosophers expressed much satisfaction at the discovery, as establishing

the doctrine of their books. These taught that in former times there were

ten species of elephants, but that the smallest species alone survived."

The King inquired who of the English gentlemen were then present.

_Woondouk._ "There are Captain Yule, the Secretary to the Mission (_Letya

Bogyee_, or right-hand chief); Dr. Forsyth (_Tshaya Woon_, or supreme over

the teachers); Professor Oldham, the geologist (_Kyouk Tshaya_, or rock

teacher); and Major Allan (_Meaday Woon_ and _Mhan Byoung Bo_, telescope

officer)."

_King._ "Major Allan is a good man. Does he speak Burmese?"

"A little, your Majesty."

"Not so much as the Envoy, I suppose. He should study. Parrots, by

diligence, learn languages. Have you parrots that can speak English?"

_Envoy._ "We have, your Majesty."

"And we have parrots that even understand writing. What stones is the Rock

Teacher acquainted with?"

"He knows all kinds, your Majesty."

"In my country there are mountains, along the side of which if horses,

elephants, or men go, a green shadow is cast on their bodies. Your black

coat would appear green there. How does he explain this?"

Professor Oldham suggested that it might arise from copper on the surface.

"No, it cannot be that, as the copper is not seen. I think it results from

emeralds below."[10]

_To Dr. Forsyth._ "How many elementary substances are there in the human

body?"

_Dr. F._ "Four substances."

"That is correct. Could a man have one of them destroyed, and yet survive?"

"It might be partially injured, and he yet survive."

"But suppose the element on which the issues of the body depend were to be

destroyed, could the man survive?"

"In that case he must die, if the action could not be restored."

"That is true. It is proper for every physician to be conversant with the

elementary substances. There are a great number of books on the subject of

medicine in the Burmese language,--books _so_ deep,"--raising his hand

above his head.

_Envoy._ "I have received from your Majesty a fossil alligator's head,

which is very much prized by the Rock Teacher; and I have heard there are

Biloos'[11] (monsters') bones in some parts of the country."

_King._ "There are Biloos' bones in the Yau district, and you can have as

many as you choose, or a whole Biloo even." (_To the Woondouk_,) "See that

this is attended to." (_To the Atwen-woons_,) "These people cannot sit long

thus without being cramped."

His Majesty then flung himself brusquely off the sofa, turned his back, put

on his shoes, and strode away without any leave-taking. His manner was easy

and full of good-humor; but he chewed betel to almost disgusting excess;

the golden pawn-box was never out of his hand, and he played with it as he

talked.

When he was gone, refreshments were brought in,--pancakes filled with

spiced meats, jellies of rice-starch, in various colors, and other viands.

But the most Oriental and by no means the least palatable dish consisted of

fried locusts, stuffed with spiced meat. They were brought in

"hot-and-hot," in relays of saucers, and tasted like fried shrimps.

In the large audience-hall, adjoining the pavilion, ten or twelve richly

dressed dancing-girls slowly circled to passionate music, brandishing in

both hands bunches of peacock's feathers, throwing themselves into a

variety of difficult and curious attitudes, and chanting all the while in a

pleasing chorus, which singularly resembled the psalmody of a choir in an

English parish church.

A few days later the Envoy called, _pour prendre conge_, on the

Ein-she-men, whose physiognomy he describes as that of a strong-willed,

boisterous, passionate, and energetic man, with but little intellect or

refinement, but not, perhaps, without kindly impulses. He was full of

questions,--among others, "What nation first made gunpowder?"

_Envoy._ "I am not quite sure, your Highness, whether it was first made in

England or Germany. Our books say that it was known from an earlier period

in China."

"Ah!" interposed the sly old Woondouk. "You won't say where gunpowder was

first made, because you want it to appear that it was in England."

"Not at all; the point is a doubtful one. I tell you exactly what I know."

"Then where were muskets first invented?"

"I cannot tell you. The first use of cannon on record was by the English,

some five hundred years ago."

_Prince._ "What nation first made steamships?"

"America, your Highness. The steam-engine was invented in England, and an

American adapted it to ships."

_Woondouk._ "Those are the people who went out from you, and you could not

govern them, and they set up for themselves."

_Envoy._ "Precisely. Just as the people of Aracan, of your own race and

religion, settled in that country, and had a king of their own, and you

lost dominion over them." (_Much good-humored laughter at this reply._)

Speaking of the friendly relations between England and France, the Envoy

explained that communication is kept up constantly between the two

countries by means of the electric telegraph. (_To the Woondouk._) "You

have seen the telegraph in Bengal, and will be able to inform his Highness

about it."

_Woondouk._ "They put a wire on posts above the ground, or bury it

underneath, carrying it over mountains and through rivers; and at certain

stations apart there are magnetic needles, which shake to denote the

letters of the words of a message that is sent. Thus they converse

together, though they are hundreds of miles apart."

This Woondouk, Moung Mhon, was a very astute and ingenious man. When he

accompanied the old Dalla-Woon on a mission to the Governor-General, he was

taken on one occasion, by Major Phayre and Colonel Baker, to make a short

excursion on the East India Railway. When his attention was called to the

great speed at which they were travelling, he made no remark, except to

ask the interval between two telegraph posts on the line; and then,

counting the beats of his own pulse, and making a mental estimate of the

rapidity with which he passed those intervals, he quietly said, "Yes, we

_are_ going very fast."

_Woondouk._ "Now where was the electric telegraph first discovered?"

_Envoy._ "I believe the discovery was nearly contemporaneous in England and

America."

_Woondouk._ "But it must have been in one place or the other."

_Envoy._ "In Europe, where men of science are engaged in a great variety of

studies, and publish their views and opinions, similar discoveries are

frequently made about the same time in different countries."

The visits of ceremony to the four Woongyis, and to old Moung Pathee, the

Nan-ma-dau Woon, were marked by circumstances of peculiar interest. At the

house of the Magwe Menghi (Great Prince of Magwe), the most intellectual

and influential of the Woongyis, the floor was laid with carpets, and

chairs for the visitors were set at a long table. The large silk curtain

which separated the reception-room from the women's apartment was partly

raised at one corner; and there, on carpets, were seated all the ladies of

the family. Breakfast was served, at first in English fashion, with bread

and butter, muffins and tarts. But presently the hospitable Woongyi called

out cheerily, "Come, come! they know an English breakfast well enough; let

us have Burmese dishes now." Then came sweetmeats and dainties of various

kinds, and in profusion,--in all, fifty-seven dishes. After the breakfast

the usual Burmese dessert of betel-nut, pawn, pickled tea,[12] salted

ginger in small strips, fried garlic, walnuts without the shells, roasted

groundnuts, &c., on little gold and silver dishes; and, last of all,

cheroots.

The Woongyi led in his wife, and would have her attempt an English chair,

next the Envoy; but the old lady, after several amiable efforts to

reconcile herself to the foreign situation, bravely tucked in her scanty

robes, and doubled her legs under her.

From the Magwe Menghi's they passed to the houses of the Mein-loung, the

Myo-doung, and the Pakhan Menghi, (all Woonghis,) and of the venerable

Nan-ma-dau Woon,--breakfasting at each. At the residence of the Pakhan

Menghi several ladies joined the party at table; these were the Woongyi's

wife, who had been one of Tharawadi's queens, with her mother and two

sisters,--all really lady-like and self-possessed, fairer than the

generality of Burmese women, and of delicate and graceful figures, though

not pretty. They wore the usual _tawein_, or narrow petticoat of gorgeously

striped silk, polka jackets of thin white muslin, and ornaments of

extraordinary brilliancy. Their ear-cylinders were gold; but instead of

being open tubes, as commonly worn at the capital, they were closed in

front, and set with one large cut diamond, ruby, or emerald, surrounded by

smaller brilliants. The necklace consisted of a narrow chain of gold,

plain, or set with pearls, and bearing table diamonds in two rows, one

fixed and the other pendent. They also wore superb rings, in which were

rubies of noble size.

Among the ladies seated on the ground were two strongly resembling one

another, and with the receding forehead which marks all the descendants of

Alompra. These were daughters of the Mekhara-men, that uncle of King

Tharawadi who used to translate articles from Rees's Cyclopaedia into

Burmese, and who assisted Mr. Lane, a merchant of Ava, in the compilation

of the English and Burmese Dictionary which bears the name of the latter.

For a Kala at Amarapoora not to know the Lord White Elephant is to argue

himself unknown. Consequently a presentation to that Buddhistic demi-god in

bleached and animated India-rubber was a crowning ceremonial, essential, in

a political as well as religious point of view, to the success of the

embassy. He "receives" in his "palace," a little to the north of the Hall

of Audience. On the south are sheds for the vulgar monsters of his retinue,

and brick _godowns_, in which the state carriages, and the massive and

gorgeous golden litters, are stowed.

Captain Yule says the present white elephant is the very one mentioned by

Padre Sangermano as having been caught in 1806,--to the great joy of the

king, who had just lost the preceding incumbent, a female, which died after

a year's captivity. "He is very large, almost ten feet high, with a noble

head and pair of tusks. But he is long-bodied and lank, and not otherwise

handsome for an elephant. He is sickly too, and out of condition, being

distempered for five months in the year, from April to August. His eye, the

iris of which is yellow, with a reddish outer annulus, and a small, clear,

black pupil, has an uneasy glare, and his keepers evidently mistrust his

temper. The annulus round the iris is pointed out as resembling a circle of

the nine gems. His color is almost uniform,--about the ground-tint of the

mottled or freckled part of the trunk and ears of common elephants, perhaps

a little darker. He also has pale freckles on the same parts. On the whole,

he is well entitled to his appellation."

His royal paraphernalia are magnificent. The driving-hook is three feet

long, the stem a mass of small pearls, girt at frequent intervals with

bands of rubies, and the hook and handle of crystal, tipped with gold. The

headstall is of fine red cloth, plentifully studded with choice rubies, and

near the extremity are some precious diamonds. Fitting over the bumps of

the forehead are circles of the nine gems, which are supposed to be charms

against malign influences.

When caparisoned, he also wears on the forehead, like other Burmese

dignitaries, including the king himself, a golden plate inscribed with his

titles, and a gold crescent set with circles of large gems between the

eyes. Large silver tassels hang in front of his ears, and he is harnessed

with bands of gold and crimson set with large bosses of pure gold. He is a

regular estate of the realm, having a Woon, or minister, of his own, four

gold umbrellas, the white umbrellas which are peculiar to royalty, and a

suite of thirty attendants. The Burmese remove their shoes on entering his

palace. He has an appanage, or territory, assigned to him to "eat," like

other princes of the Empire. In Burney's time it was the rich cotton

district of Taroup Myo.

The present king never rides the white elephant; but his uncle used to do

so frequently, acting as his own mahout, which was one of the royal

accomplishments of the ancient Indian kings.

"The importance attached to the possession of a white elephant," says

Captain Yule, "is traceable to the Buddhist system. A white elephant of

certain wonderful endowments is one of the seven precious things the

possession of which marks the _Maha chakravartti Raja_, 'the great

wheel-turning king,' the holy and universal sovereign, a character who

appears once in a cycle, at the period when the waxing and waning term of

human life has reached its maximum of an _asanhkya_ in duration. Hence the

white elephant is the ensign of universal sovereignty."

FOOTNOTES:

[3] Narrative of a Mission to the Court of Ava, in 1855. By Captain Henry

Yule, Secretary to the Envoy.

[4] Western foreigner.

[5] Priest; literally, "Great Glory."

[6] Yule's Narrative.

[7] 1. Charity; 2. Religious Observances; 3. Self-denial; 4. Learning; 5.

Diligence; 6. Patience; 7. Truth; 8. Perseverance; 9. Friendship; 10.

Impartiality.

[8] _Athenkhya_ is a corruption, or Burmese pronunciation, of _asankhya_,

Sanscrit, from the negative _a_ and _sankhya_, "number,"--literally,

"innumerable"; but as a Buddhist period, it is expressed by a unit and _one

hundred and forty ciphers_. Yule.

[9] Yule's Narrative.

[10] "Amid lovely prospects of rich valleys, and wooded hills, and winding

waters, almost every rock bore on its surface the yellow gleam of gold.

True, according to the voyager, the precious metal was itself absent; but

Sir Walter [Raleigh], on afterward showing the stones to a Spaniard of the

Caracas, was told by him that they were _madre del oro_, mother of gold,

and that the mine itself was further in the ground."--_Hugh Miller._

[11] A sort of demon-monkeys, grotesquely hideous and fearfully

funny,--generally depicted as black Calibans, with tusks. Judson defines

them as "monsters which devour human flesh, and possess certain superhuman

powers." According to a Buddhist legend, Guadma, when he attempted to land

at Martaban, was stoned by the Nats and Biloos, who then inhabited that

country, as well as Tavoy and Mergui; and Captain Yule imagines there may

be some dim tradition here of an alien and savage race of aborigines (akin,

perhaps, to the quasi-negroes of the Andamans), who have become the Biloos,

or Ogres, of Burman legend, "just as our Ogres took their name, probably,

from the Ugrians of Northeastern Europe." The description of the Andaman

negroes by the Mohammedan travellers of the ninth century, as quoted by

Prichard, would answer well for the Biloos of Burmah: "The people eat human

flesh quite raw; their complexion is black, their hair frizzled, their

countenance and eyes frightful; their feet are almost a cubit in length,

and they go quite naked." The comic element, however, always enters into

the Burmese conception of a Biloo. On the pavement of a royal monastery at

Amarapoora is a set of bas-reliefs representing Biloos in all sorts of

impish attitudes and antics.

[12] _Hlapet_, or pickled tea, made up with a little oil, salt, and garlic,

or assafoetida, is eaten in small quantities by the Burmese, after dinner,

as we eat cheese. They say it promotes digestion, and they cannot live in

comfort without it. Hlapet is also passed around on many ceremonial

occasions, and on the conclusion of lawsuits.

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK.

IN TWO PARTS.

PART I.

At this present moment of time I am what the doctors call an interesting

case, and am to be found in bed No. 10, Ward II. Massachusetts General

Hospital. I am told that I have what is called Addison's Disease,--and that

it is this pleasing malady which causes me to be covered with large

blotches of a dark mulatto tint, such as I suppose would make me peculiarly

acceptable to a Massachusetts constituency, if my legs were only strong

enough to enable me to run for Congress. However, it is a rather grim

subject to joke about, because, if I believe the doctor who comes around

every day and thumps me, and listens to my chest with as much pleasure as

if I was music all through,--I say, if I believed him, I should suppose I

was going to die. The fact is, I don't believe him at all. Some of these

days I shall take a turn and get about again, but meanwhile it is rather

dull for a stirring, active person to have to lie still and watch myself

getting big brown and yellow spots all over me, like a map that has taken

to growing.

The man on my right has consumption, smells of cod-liver oil, and coughs

all night. The man on my left is a Down-Easter, with a liver which has

struck work; looks like a human pumpkin; and how he contrives to whittle

jack-straws all day, and eat as he does, I can't understand. I have tried

reading and tried whittling, but they don't either of them satisfy me, so

that yesterday I concluded to ask the doctor if he could n't suggest some

other amusement.

I waited until he had gone through the ward, and then I seized my chance,

and asked him to stop a moment.

"Well," said he, "what do you want?"

"Something to do, Doctor."

He thought a little, and then replied: "I'll tell you what to do; I think

if you were to write out a plain account of your life, it would be pretty

well worth reading, and perhaps would serve to occupy you for a few days at

least. If half of what you told me last week be true, you must be about as

clever a scamp as there is to be met with, and I suppose you would just as

lief put it on paper as talk it."

"Pretty nearly," said I; "I think I will try it, Doctor."

After he left I lay awhile thinking over the matter. I knew well enough

that I was what the world calls a scamp, and I knew also that I had got

little good out of the fact. If a man is what people call virtuous, and

fails in life, he gets credit at least for the virtue; but when a man is a

rascal, and breaks down at the trade, somehow or other people don't credit

him with the intelligence he has put into the business,--and this I call

hard. I never had much experience of virtue being its own reward; but I do

know that, when rascality is left with nothing but the contemplation of

itself for comfort, it is by no means refreshing. Now this is just my

present position; and if I did not recall with satisfaction the energy and

skill with which I did my work, I should be nothing but disgusted at the

melancholy spectacle of my failure. I suppose that I shall at least find

occupation in reviewing all this, and I think, therefore, that I shall try

to give a plain and straightforward account of the life I have led, and the

various devices by which I have sought to get my share of the money of my

countrymen.

I want it to be clearly understood, at the beginning, that in what I may

have to say, I shall stick severely to the truth, without any overstrained

regard for my neighbors' feelings. In fact, I shall have some little

satisfaction when I do come a little heavy on corn or bunyon, because for

the past two years the whole world appears to have been engaged in

trotting over mine with as much certainty as if there were no other

standing-room left in creation.

I shall be rather brief about my early life, which possesses little or no

interest.

I was born in Newark, New Jersey, and am therefore what those dreary

Pennsylvanians call a Jersey Yankee, and sometimes a Spaniard, as pleases

them best. My father was a respectable physician in large practice, too

busy to look after me. My mother died too early for me to remember her at

all. An old aunt who took her place as our housekeeper indulged me to the

utmost, and I thus acquired a taste for having my own way and the best of

everything, which has stuck to me through life. I do not remember when it

was that I first began to pilfer, but it must have been rather early in

life. Indeed, I believe I may say that, charitably speaking, which is the

only way to speak of one's self, I was what the doctors call a

kleptomaniac,--which means that, when I could not get a thing in any other

way, I took it. As to education, I took very little of that, but I had,

notwithstanding, a liking for reading, and especially for light literature.

At the age of sixteen I was sent to Nassau Hall, best known as Princeton

College; but, for reasons which I need not state very fully, I did not

remain beyond the close of the Junior year. The causes which led to my

removal were not the usual foolish scrapes in which college lads indulge.

Indeed, I never have been guilty of any of those wanton pieces of

wickedness which injure the feelings of others while they lead to no useful

result. When I left to return home, I set myself seriously to reflect upon

the necessity of greater caution in following out my inclinations, and from

that time forward I have steadily avoided the vulgar vice of directly

possessing myself of objects to which I could show no legal title. My

father was justly indignant at the results of my college career; and,

according to my aunt, his sorrow had some effect in shortening his life,

which ended rather suddenly within the year.

I was now about nineteen years old, and, as I remember, a middle-sized,

well-built young fellow, with large, dark eyes, a slight mustache, and, I

have been told, with very good manners, and a somewhat humorous turn.

Besides these advantages, my guardian held in trust for me about three

thousand dollars. After some consultation between us, it was resolved that

I should study medicine.

Accordingly I set out for Philadelphia, with many good counsels from my

aunt and guardian. I look back upon this period as a turning-point in my

life. I had seen enough of the world already to know that, if you can

succeed honestly, it is by far the pleasantest way; and I really believe

that, if I had not been endowed with such a fatal liking for all the good

things of life, I might have lived along as reputably as most men. This,

however, is, and always has been, my difficulty, and I suppose that I am

not therefore altogether responsible for the incidents to which it gave

rise. Most men also have some ties in life. I had only one, a little

sister, now about ten years of age, for whom I have always had more or less

affection, but who was of course too much my junior to exert over me that

beneficial control which has saved so many men from evil courses. She cried

a good deal when we parted, and this, I think, had a very good effect in

strengthening my resolution to do nothing which could get me into trouble.

The janitor of the College to which I went directed me to a boarding-house,

where I engaged a small, third-story room, which I afterwards shared with

Mr. Chaucer of Jawjaw, as he called the State which he had the honor to

represent.

In this very remarkable abode I spent the next two winters; and finally

graduated, along with two hundred more, at the close of my two years of

study. I should also have been one year in a physician's office as a

student, but this regulation is very easily evaded. As to my studies, the

less said the better. I attended the quizzes, as they call them, pretty

closely, and, being of quick and retentive memory, was thus enabled to

dispense, for the most part, with the six or seven lectures a day which

duller men found it necessary to follow.

Dissecting struck me as a rather nasty business for a gentleman, and on

this account I did just as little as was absolutely essential. In fact, if

a man takes his teckers, and pays the dissection fees, nobody troubles

himself as to whether or not he does any more than this. A like evil exists

as to graduation; whether you merely squeeze through, or pass with credit,

is a thing which is not made public, so that I had absolutely nothing to

stimulate my ambition.

The astonishment with which I learned of my success was shared by the

numerous Southern gentlemen who darkened the floors, and perfumed with

tobacco the rooms of our boarding-house. In my companions, during the time

of my studies so called, as in other matters in life, I was somewhat

unfortunate. All of them were Southern gentlemen, with more money than I.

They all carried great sticks, usually sword-canes, and most of them

bowie-knives; also they delighted in dress-coats, long hair, felt hats, and

very tight boots, swore hideously, and glared at every woman they met as

they strolled along with their arms affectionately over the shoulders of

their companion. They hated the "Nawth," and cursed the Yankees, and

honestly believed that the leanest of them was a match for any half-dozen

of the bulkiest of Northerners. I must also do them the justice to say that

they were quite as ready to fight as to brag, which, by the way, is no

meagre statement. With these gentry, for whom I retain a respect which has

filled me with regret at the recent course of events, I spent a good deal

of my large leisure. We were what the more respectable students of both

sections called a hard crowd; but what we did, or how we did it, little

concerns us here, except that, owing to my esteem for chivalric blood and

breeding, I was led into many practices and excesses which cost my guardian

much distress and myself a good deal of money.

At the close of my career as a student, I found myself aged twenty-one

years, and owner of twelve hundred dollars,--the rest of my small estate

having disappeared variously within the last two years. After my friends

had gone to their homes in the South, I began to look about me for an

office, and finally settled upon a very good room in one of the down-town

localities of the Quaker City. I am not specific as to number and street,

for reasons which may hereafter appear. I liked the situation on various

accounts. It had been occupied by a doctor; the terms were reasonable; and

it lay on the skirts of a good neighborhood; while below it lived a motley

population, amongst whom I expected to get my first patients and such fees

as were to be had. Into this new home I moved my medical text-books, a few

bones, and myself. Also I displayed in the window a fresh sign, upon which

was distinctly to be read:--

"DR. ELIAS SANDCRAFT.

Office hours, 7 to 9 A. M., 3 to 6

P. M., 7 to 9 P. M."

I felt now that I had done my fair share towards attaining a virtuous

subsistence, and so I waited tranquilly, and without undue enthusiasm, to

see the rest of the world do its part in the matter. Meanwhile I read up on

all sorts of imaginable cases, stayed at home all through my office hours,

and at intervals explored the strange section of the town which lay to the

south of my office. I do not suppose there is anything like it elsewhere.

It was then, and still is, a nest of endless grog-shops, brothels,

slop-shops, and low lodging-houses. You may dine here for a penny off of

soup made from the refuse meats of the rich, gathered at back gates by a

horde of half-naked children, who all tell varieties of one woful tale.

Here, too, you may be drunk at five cents, and lodge for three, with men,

women, and children of all colors lying about you. It is this hideous

mixture of black and white and yellow wretchedness which makes the place so

peculiar. The blacks predominate, and have mostly that swollen, reddish,

dark skin, the sign in this race of habitual drunkenness. Of course only

the lowest whites are here,--rag-pickers, pawnbrokers, old-clothes-men,

thieves, and the like. All of this, as it came before me, I viewed with

mingled disgust and philosophy. I hated filth, but I understood that

society has to stand on somebody, and I was only glad that I was not one of

the undermost and worst-squeezed bricks.

You will hardly believe me, but I had waited a month without having been

called upon by a single patient. At last the policeman on the beat brought

me a fancy man, with a dog bite. This patient recommended me to his

brother, the keeper of a small pawnbroking shop, and by very slow degrees I

began to get stray patients who were too poor to indulge in uptown doctors.

I found the police very useful acquaintances; and, by a drink or a cigar

now and then, I got most of the cases of cut heads and the like at the next

station-house. These, however, were the aristocrats of my practice; the

bulk of my patients were soap-fat-men, rag-pickers, oystermen, hose-house

bummers, and worse, with other and nameless trades, men and women, white,

black, or mulatto. How they got the levies and quarters with which I was

reluctantly paid, I do not know; that indeed was none of my business. They

expected to pay, and they came to me in preference to the dispensary doctor

two or three squares away, who seemed to me to live in the lanes and alleys

about us. Of course he received no pay except experience, since the

dispensaries in the Quaker City, as a rule, do not give salaries to their

doctors; and the vilest of the poor will prefer a pay doctor, if he can get

one, to one of these disinterested gentlemen who are at everybody's call

and beck. I am told that most young doctors do a large amount of poor

practice, as it is called; but, for my own part, I think it better for both

parties when the doctor insists upon some compensation being made to him.

This has been usually my own custom, and I have not found reason to regret

it.

Notwithstanding my strict attention to my own interests, I have been rather

sorely dealt with by fate, upon several occasions, where, so far as I could

see, I was vigilantly doing everything in my power to keep myself out of

trouble or danger. I may as well relate one of them, merely as an

illustration of how little value a man's intellect may be, when fate and

the prejudices of the mass of men are against him.

One evening late, I myself answered a ring at the bell, and found a small

black boy on the steps, a shoeless, hatless little wretch, with curled

darkness for hair, and teeth like new tombstones. It was pretty cold, and

he was relieving his feet by standing first on one and then on the other.

He did not wait for me to speak.

"Hi, sah, Missy Barker she say to come quick away, sah, to Numbah 709

Bedford Street."

The locality did not look like pay, but it was hard to say in this quarter,

because sometimes you found a well-to-do "brandy-snifter,"--local for

gin-shop,--or a hard-working "leather-jeweller,"--ditto for

shoemaker,--with next door, in a house no better or worse, dozens of human

rats for whom every police trap in the city was constantly set.

With a doubt, then, in my mind as to whether I should find a good patient

or some mean nigger, I sought out the place to which I had been directed. I

did not like its looks; but I blundered up an alley, and into a back room,

where I fell over somebody, and was cursed and told to lie down and keep

easy, or somebody, meaning the man stumbled over, would make me. At last I

lit on a staircase which led into the alley, and, after some inquiry, got

as high as the garret. People hereabouts did not know one another, or did

not want to know, so that it was of little avail to ask questions. At

length I saw a light through the cracks in the attic door, and walked in.

To my amazement, the first person I saw was a woman of about thirty-five,

in pearl-gray Quaker dress,--one of your calm, good-looking people. She was

seated on a stool beside a straw mattress, upon which lay a black woman.

There were three others crowded close around a small stove, which was

red-hot,--an unusual spectacle in this street. Altogether a most nasty den.

As I came in, the little Quaker woman got up, and said, "I took the liberty

of sending for thee to look at this poor woman. I am afraid she has the

small-pox. Will thee be so kind as to look at her?" And with this she held

down the candle towards the bed.

"Good gracious!" said I hastily, seeing how the creature was speckled, "I

did n't understand this, or I would not have come. Best let her alone,

miss," I added, "there 's nothing to be done for these cases."

Upon my word, I was astonished at the little woman's indignation. She said

just those things which make you feel as if somebody had been calling you

names or kicking you. Was I a doctor? Was I a man? and so on. However, I

never did fancy the small-pox, and what could a fellow get by doctoring

wretches like these? So I held my tongue and went away. About a week

afterwards, I met Evans, the Dispensary man.

"Halloa!" says he. "Doctor, you made a nice mistake about that darky at No.

709 Bedford Street the other night. She had nothing but measles after all."

"Of course I knew," said I, laughing; "but you don't think I was going into

dispensary trash, do you?"

"I should think not," says Evans.

I learned afterwards that this Miss Barker had taken an absurd fancy to

the man because he had doctored the darky, and would not let the Quakeress

pay him. The end was, that when I wanted to get a vacancy in the Southwark

Dispensary, where they do pay the doctors, Miss Barker was malignant enough

to take advantage of my oversight by telling the whole story to the board;

so that Evans got in, and I was beaten.

You may be pretty sure that I found rather slow the kind of practice I have

described, and began to look about for chances of bettering myself. In this

sort of location these came up now and then; and as soon as I got to be

known as a reliable man, I began to get the peculiar sort of practice I

wanted. Notwithstanding all my efforts, however, I found myself at the

close of three years with all my means spent, and just able to live

meagrely from hand to mouth, which by no means suited a person of my

luxurious turn. Six months went by, and I was worse off than ever,--two

months in arrears of rent, and numerous other debts to cigar-shops and

liquor-dealers. Now and then, some good job, such as a burglar with a cut

head, helped me up for a while; but on the whole, I was like Slider

Downeyhylle in poor Neal's Charcoal Sketches, and "kept going downer and

downer the more I tried not to." Something must be done.

One night, as I was debating with myself as to how I was to improve my

position, I heard a knock on my shutter, and, going to the door, let in a

broad-shouldered man with a white face and a great hooked nose. He wore a

heavy black beard and mustache, and looked like the wolf in the pictures of

Red Riding-Hood which I had seen as a child.

"Your name 's Sandcraft?" said the man, shaking the snow over everything.

"Set down, want to talk to you."

"That's my name. What can I do for you?" said I.

The man looked around the room rather scornfully, at the same time throwing

back his coat, and displaying a red neckerchief and a huge garnet pin.

"Guess you 're not overly rich," he said.

"Not especially," said I.

"Know--Simon Stagers?"

"Can't say I do," said I. Simon was a burglar who had blown off two fingers

when mining a safe, and whom I had attended while he was hiding.

"Can't say you do," says the wolf.

"Well, you can lie, and no mistake. Come now, Doctor, Simon says you 're

safe, and I want to do a leetle plain talk with you." With this he laid ten

eagles on the table; I put out my hand instinctively.

"Let 'em alone," cried the man sharply. "They 're easy earned, and ten more

like 'em."

"For doing what?" said I.

The man paused a moment, looked around him, eyed me furtively, and finally

loosened his cravat with a hasty pull. "You 're the coroner," said he.

"I! What do you mean?"

"Yes, you,--the coroner, don't you understand?" and so saying he shoved the

gold pieces towards me.

"Very good," said I, "we will suppose I 'm the coroner."

"And being the coroner," said he, "you get this note, which requests you to

call at No. 9 Blank Street to examine the body of a young man which is

supposed--only supposed, you see--to have--well, to have died under

suspicious circumstances."

"Go on," said I.

"No," he returned, "not till I know how you like it. Stagers and another

knows it; and it would n't be very safe for you to split, besides not

making nothing out of it; but what I say is this. Do you like the business

of coroner?"

Now I did not like it, but two hundred in gold was life to me just then; so

I said, "Let me hear the whole of it first."

"That 's square enough," said the man; "my wife 's got"--correcting himself

with a little shiver--"my wife had a brother that 's been cuttin' up rough,

because, when I 'd been up too late, I handled her a leetle hard now and

again. About three weeks ago, he threatened to fetch the police on me for

one or two little things Stagers and I done together. Luckily, he fell sick

with a typhoid just then; but he made such a thunderin' noise about opening

safes, and what he done, and I done, and so on, that I did n't dare to have

any one about him. When he began to mend, I gave him a little plain talk

about this business of threatening to bring the police on us, and next day

I caught him a saying something to my wife about it. The end of it was, he

was took worse next morning, and--well he died yesterday. Now what does his

sister do, but writes a note, and gives it to a boy in the alley to put in

the post. Luckily, Stagers happened to be round; and after the boy got away

a bit, Bill bribes him with a quarter to give him the note, which was n't

no less than a request to the coroner to come to our house to-morrow and

make an examination, as foul play was suspected."

Here he paused. As for myself, I was cold all over. I was afraid to go on,

and afraid to go back, besides which I did not doubt that there was a good

deal of money in the case. "Of course," said I, "it's all nonsense; only I

suppose you don't want the officers about, and a fuss, and that sort of

thing."

"Exactly," said my friend, "you 're the coroner; you take this note and

come to my house. Says you, 'Mrs. File, are you the woman that wrote this

note? because in that case I must examine the body.'"

"I see," said I; "she need n't know who I am, or anything else. But if I

tell her it's all right, do you think she won't want to know why there

ain't a jury, and so on?"

"Bless you," said the man, "the girl is n't over seventeen, and does n't

know no more than her baby."

"I 'll do it," said I, suddenly, for, as I saw, it involved no sort of

risk; "but I must have three hundred dollars."

"And fifty," added the wolf, "if you do it well."

With this the man buttoned about him a shaggy gray overcoat, and took his

leave without a single word in addition.

For the first time in my life I failed that night to sleep. I thought to

myself at last that I would get up early, pack a few clothes, and escape,

leaving my books to pay, as they might, my arrears of rent. Looking out of

the window, however, in the morning, I saw Stagers prowling about the

opposite pavement, and, as the only exit except the street door was an

alleyway, which opened alongside of the front of the house, I gave myself

up for lost. About ten o'clock I took my case of instruments, and started

for File's house, followed, as I too well understood, by Stagers.

I knew the house, which was in a small street, by its closed windows and

the craped bell, which I shuddered as I touched. However, it was too late

to draw back, and I therefore inquired for Mrs. File. A young and

haggard-looking woman came down, and led me into a small parlor, for whose

darkened light I was thankful enough.

"Did you write me this note?" said I.

"I did," said the woman, "if you 're the coroner. Joe, he 's my husband, he

's gone out to see about the funeral. I wish it was his, I do."

"What do you suspect?" said I.

"I 'll tell you," she returned, in a whisper. "I think he was made away

with. I think there was foul play. I think he was poisoned. That 's what I

think."

"I hope you may be mistaken," said I. "Suppose you let me see the body."

"You shall see it," she replied; and, following her, I went up stairs to a

front chamber, where I found the corpse.

"Get it over soon," said the woman, with a strange firmness. "If there

ain't no murder been done, I shall have to run for it. If there is," and

her face set hard, "I guess I 'll stay." With this she closed the door, and

left me with the dead.

If I had known what was before me, I never should have gone into the thing

at all. It looked a little better when I had opened a window, and let in

plenty of light; for, although I was, on the whole, far less afraid of dead

than living men, I had an absurd feeling that I was doing this dead man a

distinct wrong, as if it mattered to the dead, after all. When the affair

was over, I thought more of the possible consequences than of its relation

to the dead man himself; but do as I would at the time, I was in a

ridiculous tremor, and especially when, in going through the forms of a

_post-mortem_ dissection, I had to make the first cut through the skin. Of

course, I made no examination of the internal organs. I wanted to know as

little as possible about them, and to get done as soon as I could.

Unluckily, however, the walls of the stomach had softened and given way, so

that I could not help seeing, among the escaped contents of the stomach,

numerous grains of a white powder, which I hastened to conceal from my

sight by rapidly sewing up the incisions which I had made.

I am free to confess now that I was careful not to uncover the man's face,

and that when it was over I backed to the door, and hastily escaped from

the room. On the stairs opposite to me Mrs. File was seated, with her

bonnet on, and a small bundle in her hand.

"Well," said she, rising as she spoke, and with a certain eagerness in her

tones, "what killed him? Was it arsenic?"

"Arsenic, my good woman!" said I; "when a man has typhoid fever, he don't

need poison to kill him."

"And you mean to say he was n't poisoned," said she, with more than a trace

of disappointment in her voice,--"not poisoned at all?"

"No more than you are," said I. "If I had found any signs of foul play, I

should have had a regular inquest. As it is, the less said about it the

better; and the fact is, it would have been much wiser to have kept quiet

at the beginning. I can't understand why you should have troubled me about

it at all."

"Neither I would," said she, "if I had n't been pretty sure. I guess now

the sooner I leave, the better for me."

"As to that," I returned, "it is none of my business; but you may rest

certain that you are mistaken about the cause of your brother's death."

As I left the house, whom should I meet but Dr. Evans. "Why, halloa!" said

he; "called you in, have they? Who 's sick?"

You may believe I was scared. "Mrs. File," said I, remembering with horror

that I had forgotten to ask whether at any time the man had had a doctor.

"Bad lot," returned Evans; "I was sent for to see the brother when he was

as good as dead."

"As bad as dead," I retorted, with a sickly effort at a joke. "What killed

him?"

"I suppose one of the ulcers gave way, and that he died of the

consequences. Perforation, you know, and that sort of thing. I thought of

asking File for a _post_, but I did n't."

"Wish you luck of them. Good-by."

I was greatly alarmed at this new incident, but my fears were somewhat

quieted that evening when Stagers and the wolf appeared with the remainder

of the money, and I learned that Mrs. File had fled from her home, and, as

File thought likely, from the city also. A few months later, File himself

disappeared, and Stagers found his way into the Penitentiary.

I felt, for my own part, that I had been guilty of more than one mistake,

and that I had displayed throughout a want of intelligence for which I came

near being punished very severely. I should have made proper inquiries

before venturing on a matter so dangerous, and I ought also to have got a

good fee from Mrs. File on account of my services as coroner. It served me,

however, as a good lesson, but it was several months before I felt quite

easy in mind. Meanwhile, money became scarce once more, and I was driven

to my wit's end to devise how I should continue to live as I had done. I

tried, among other plans, that of keeping certain pills and other

medicines, which I sold to my patients; but on the whole I found it better

to send all my prescriptions to one druggist, who charged the patient ten

or twenty per cent over the correct price, and handed this amount to me.

In some cases I am told the percentage is supposed to be a donation on the

part of the apothecary; but I rather fancy the patient pays for it in the

end. It is one of the absurd vagaries of the profession to discountenance

the practice I have described, but I wish, for my part, I had never done

anything worse or more dangerous. Of course it inclines a doctor to change

his medicines a good deal, and to order them in large quantities, which is

occasionally annoying to the poor; yet, as I have always observed, there is

no poverty so painful as your own, so that in a case of doubt I prefer

equally to distribute pecuniary suffering among many, rather than to

concentrate it on myself.

About six months after the date of my rather annoying adventure, an

incident occurred which altered somewhat, and for a time improved, my

professional position. During my morning office-hour an old woman came in,

and, putting down a large basket, wiped her face with a yellow cotton

handkerchief first, and afterwards with the corner of her apron. Then she

looked around uneasily, got up, settled her basket on her arm with a jerk,

which decided the future of an egg or two, and remarked briskly, "Don't see

no little bottles about; got to the wrong stall I guess. You ain't no

homoeopath doctor, are you?"

With great presence of mind, I replied, "Well, ma'am, that depends upon

what you want. Some of my patients like one, and some like the other." I

was about to add, "You pays your money and you takes your choice," but

thought better of it, and held my peace, refraining from classical

quotation.

"Being as that 's the case," said the old lady, "I 'll just tell you my

symptoms. You said you give either kind of medicine, did n't you?"

"Just so," I replied.

"Clams or oysters, whichever opens most lively, as my Joe says. Perhaps you

know Joe,--tends the oyster-stand at stall No. 9."

No, I did not know Joe; but what were the symptoms?

They proved to be numerous, and included a stunnin' in the head, and a

misery in the side, and a goin' on with bokin' after victuals.

I proceeded of course to apply a stethoscope over her ample bosom, though

what I heard on this or similar occasions I should find it rather difficult

to state. I remember well my astonishment in one instance, where, having

unconsciously applied my instrument over a large chronometer in the

watch-fob of a sea-captain, I concluded for a brief space that he was

suffering from a rather remarkable displacement of the heart. As to the old

lady, whose name was Checkers, and who kept an apple-stall near by, I told

her that I was out of pills just then, but would have plenty next day.

Accordingly I proceeded to invest a small amount at a place called a

Homoeopathic Pharmacy, which I remember amused me immensely.

A stout little German, with great silver spectacles, sat behind a counter

containing numerous jars of white powders labelled concisely, Lach., Led.,

Onis., Op., Puls., etc., while behind him were shelves filled with bottles

of what looked like minute white shot.

"I want some homoeopathic medicine," said I.

"Vat kindst?" said my friend. "Vat you vants to cure?"

I explained at random that I wished to treat diseases in general.

"Vell, ve gifs you a case, mit a pooks";--and thereupon produced a large

box containing bottles of small pills and powders, labelled variously with

the names of diseases, so that all you required was to use the headache or

colic bottle in order to meet the needs of those particular maladies.

I was struck at first with the exquisite simplicity of this arrangement;

but before purchasing, I happened luckily to turn over the leaves of a

book, in two volumes, which lay on the counter, and was labelled,

"Jahr--Manual." Opening at page 310, Vol. I., I lit upon Lachesis, which,

on inquiry, proved to be snake-venom. This Mr. Jahr stated to be indicated

in upwards of a hundred maladies. At once it occurred to me that Lach. was

the medicine for my money, and that it was quite needless to waste cash on

the box. I therefore bought a small jar of Lach. and a lot of little pills,

and started for home.

My old woman proved a fast friend; and as she sent me numerous patients, I

by and by altered my sign to "Homoeopathic Physician and Surgeon,"

whatever that may mean, and was regarded by my medical brethren as a lost

sheep, and by the little-pill doctors as one who had seen the error of his

ways.

In point of fact, my new practice had decided advantages. All the pills

looked and tasted alike, and the same might be said of the powders, so that

I was never troubled by those absurd investigations into the nature of the

remedies which some patients are prone to make. Of course I desired to get

business, and it was therefore obviously unwise to give little pills of

Lach. or Puls. or Sep., when a man distinctly needed full doses of iron, or

the like. I soon discovered, however, that it was only necessary to

describe cod-liver oil, for instance, as a diet, in order to make use of it

where required. When a man got impatient over an ancient ague, I usually

found, too, that I could persuade him to let me try a good dose of quinine;

while, on the other hand, there was a distinct pecuniary advantage in those

cases of the shakes which could be made to believe that it was "best not to

interfere with nature." I ought to add, that this kind of faith is uncommon

among folks who carry hods or build walls.

For women who are hysterical, and go heart and soul into the business of

being sick, I have found the little pills a most charming resort, because

you cannot carry the refinement of symptoms beyond what my friend Jahr has

done in the way of fitting medicines to them, so that, if I had been

disposed honestly to practise this droll style of therapeutics, it had, as

I saw, certain conveniences.

Another year went by, and I was beginning to prosper in my new mode of

life. The medicines (being chiefly milk-sugar, with variations as to the

labels) cost next to nothing; and, as I charged pretty well for both these

and my advice, I was now able to start a gig, and also to bring my sister,

a very pretty girl of fourteen years old, to live with me in a small house

which I rented, a square from my old office.

This business of my sister's is one of the things I like the least to look

back upon. When she came to me she was a pale-faced child, with large,

mournful gray eyes, soft, yellow hair, and the promise of remarkable good

looks. As to her attachment to me, it was something quite ridiculous. She

followed me to the door when I went out, waited for me to come in, lay

awake until she heard my step at night, and, in a word, hung around my neck

like a kind of affectionate mill-stone.

WRITINGS OF T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE.

"I Am indebted to you for a knowledge of life in the old cathedral towns of

England,--of the ecclesiastical side of society, so minute and authentic

that it is like a personal experience." Thus I replied to Anthony

Trollope's declaration that he lacked an essential quality of the

novelist,--imagination. "Ah," he replied, "when you speak of careful

observation and the honest and thorough report thereof, I am conscious of

fidelity to the facts of life and character; but," he added, with that

bluff heartiness so characteristic of the man, "my brother is more than an

accurate observer: he is a scholar, a philosopher as well, with historical

tastes and cosmopolitan sympathies,--a patient student. You should read his

books";--and he snatched a pencil, and wrote out the list for me.[13] Only

two of Thomas Adolphus Trollope's volumes have been republished in this

country,--one a novel of English life, in tenor and traits very like his

brother's, the other a brief memoir of a famous and fair Italian.[14] This

curious neglect on the part of American publishers induces us to briefly

record this industrious and interesting author's claims to grateful

recognition, especially on the part of those who cherish fond recollections

of Italian travel, and enjoy the sympathetic and intelligent illustration

of Italian life and history.

In a literary point of view "An Englishman in Italy," in the last century,

would be suggestive of a classical tour like that of Addison and

Eustace,--a field of study and speculation quite apart from the people of

the country, who, except for purposes of deprecatory contrast, would

probably be ignored; and, in our own times, the idea is rather identified

with caricature than sympathy,--we associate these insular travellers with

exclusiveness and prejudice. As a general rule, they know little and care

less for the fellow-creatures among whom they sojourn, holding themselves

aloof, incapable of genial relations, and owning no guide to foreign

knowledge but Murray and the Times. Farce and romance have long made

capital out of this obtuse and impervious nationality; and it is the more

refreshing, because of the general rule, to note a noble exception,--to see

an Englishman, highly educated, studious, domestic, and patriotic, yet

dwelling in Italy, not to despise and ignore, but to interpret and endear

the country and people,--making his hospitable dwelling, with all its

Italian trophies and traits, the favorite rendezvous for the best of his

countrymen and the native society,--there discussing the principles and

prospects of civic reform, doing honor to men of genius and aspiration,

irrespective of race,--blending in his _salon_ the scholarly talk of Landor

with the fervid pleas of "Young Italy," giving equal welcome to English

radical, Piedmontese patriot, American humanitarian, and Tuscan

_dilettante_,--and thus, as it were, recognizing the free and faithful

spirit of modern progress and brotherhood amid the old armor, bridal

chests, parchment tomes, quaintly carved chairs, and other mediaeval relics

of a Florentine _palazzo_.

But this cosmopolitan candor, so rare as a social phenomenon among the

English in Italy, is no less characteristic of Adolphus Trollope as a

writer. As he entertained, in his pleasant, antique reception-room or

garden-terrace, disciples of Cavour, of Mazzini, and of Gioberti, with men

and women of varied genius and opposite convictions from England and the

United States, extending kindly tolerance or catholic sympathy to all, so

he sought, in the history of the past and the facts of the present in the

land of his love and adoption, evidences of her vital worth and auspicious

destiny. Long residence abroad liberalized, and long study enriched, a mind

singularly just in its appreciation, and a heart naturally kind and

expansive. All his friends recognize in Adolphus Trollope that rare union

of rectitude and reflection which constitutes the genuine philosopher. Mrs.

Browning aptly called him Aristides. Thus living in the atmosphere of broad

social instincts, and sharing the literary faculty and facility of his

family, this Englishman in Italy set himself deliberately to study the

country of his sojourn, in her records, local memorials, and social life,

and, having so studied, to reproduce and illustrate the knowledge thus

gleaned, with the fidelity of an annalist and the tact of a _raconteur_. It

was a noble and pleasant task, and has been nobly and pleasantly fulfilled.

Let us note its chief results, and honor the industry, truth, and humane

wisdom manifest therein.

The range of Mr. Trollope's investigations may be appreciated by the fact

that, while he is the author of "A History of Florence from the Earliest

Independence of the Commune to the Fall of the Republic in 1531," he has

also given to the press the most clear and reliable account of the

revolution of our own day, under the title of "Tuscany in 1849"; thus

supplying the two chronicles of the past and the present which together

reveal the origin, development, and character of the state and its people.

In the Preface to the former work he suggests this vital connection between

the ancient republic and the modern city. "It contains," he observes, "such

an exposition of the old Guelph community as sufficiently demonstrates the

fitness of this culmination of the grand old city's fortunes." It is this

liberal and comprehensive tone, this "looking before and after," which,

united to careful research and patient narration, renders the author so

well equipped and inspired for his task. He has brought together the

essential social and political facts of the past, and, associating them

with local traits and transitions, enabled us to realize the rise,

progress, and alternations of the Italian state, as it is next to

impossible for the Anglo-Saxon reader to do while exploring the partial,

prejudiced, and complicated annals of the native historians. This is a

needful, a timely, and a gracious service, for which every intelligent and

sympathetic traveller who has learned to love the Tuscan capital, and grown

bewildered over the complex story of her civil strifes, will feel grateful,

while his obligations are renewed by the moderate but candid statement of

those later movements, which, culminating in a childlike triumph, were

followed by a reaction whose hopelessness was more apparent than real, and

has subsequently proved an auspicious trial and training for the discipline

and privileges of constitutional liberty.

The "History of Florence" is remarkable for the skilful method whereby the

author has arranged, in luminous sequence, a long and confused series of

political events. He has confined his narrative to the essential points of

an intricate subject, omitting what is of mere casual or local interest,

and aiming to elucidate the civic growth of the little city on the banks of

the Arno. It is an admirable illustration of the conservative principles of

free municipal institutions in the Middle Ages, notwithstanding their

limited sway and frequent perversion. There is no attempt at rhetorical

display, but great precision and authenticity of statement, and a

conscientious citation of authorities; the style often lapses into

colloquial freedom, not inappropriate to the familiar discussion of some of

the curious details involved in the theme; and there are episodes of

judicious and philosophical comment, with apt historical parallels, not a

few of which come home to our recent national experience. The author's

previous studies in Italian history, and intimate familiarity with the

scene of his chronicle, give him a grasp and an insight which render his

treatment at once thorough, sensible, and facile. But it is upon the more

special subjects of Italian history that Mr. Trollope has expended his time

and talents to the best advantage,--subjects chosen with singular judgment

and imbued with fresh local and personal interest.

The scope and method of these historical studies are such as at once to

embody and illustrate what is normally characteristic in time, place, and

individual, while completeness of treatment is secured, and a person and

period made suggestive of a comprehensive historical subject. Thus in "The

Girlhood of Catharine de' Medici" we have the key to her mature and

relentless bigotry, the logical origin of the massacre of St. Bartholomew,

while, at the same time, the discipline of a convent and the intrigues of a

ruling family in the Middle Ages are elaborately unfolded. Grouped around

and associated with so remarkable an historical woman, they have a definite

significance to the modern reader, otherwise unattainable; the Palazzo

Medici, the Convents of St. Mark, Santa Lucia, and Murate, become scenes of

personal interest; the Cardinal Clement and Alessandro, in their relation

to the young Catharine, grow more real in their subtlety, family ambitions,

and unscrupulous tyranny; and the surroundings, superstition, fanaticism,

and domestic despotism which attended the forlorn girl until she became the

wife of Henry of France, explain her subsequent career and execrated

memory. Incidentally the life of mediaeval Tuscany is also revealed with

authentic emphasis. In "Paul the Pope and Paul the Friar," all the singular

circumstances whereby a priest of Rome became the instrument of striking

the first effectual blow at her absolute spiritual dominion are narrated

with precision and tact. The prolonged quarrel between the Vatican and the

Republic of Venice, the ecclesiastical and civic power, then opened the way

to human freedom, and Sarpi is truly exhibited as the pioneer reformer. His

liberal studies, foreign friends, and independent and intrepid mind

rendered him admirably fitted for the task he undertook, and the Papal

government only added infamy to despotism by the baffled attempt to

assassinate him. It is difficult to imagine a better introduction to the

subsequent history of free thought and spiritual emancipation, which

culminated in the Reformation, than this biographical sketch, where a great

historical development is made clear and dramatic by the carefully told

story of the lives of the two chief actors and agents therein.

There is a power in the state, unofficial, but essential, and therefore

more intimately blended with its welfare and identified with its fortunes

than pope, emperor, or prince,--and that is the Banker. Even in modern

times the life of such a financier as Lafitte is part of the social and

political history of France; but in mediaeval times, when "the sinews of

war" and the wages of corruption so often turned the scale of ambition and

success, the rich bankers of the Italian cities were among the most

efficient of their social forces and fame. In writing the memoirs of

Filippo Strozzi, Mr. Trollope struck the key-note of local associations in

the Tuscan capital. The least observant or retrospective stranger is

impressed with the sight of the massive walls and grated windows of the

Strozzi Palace, and is attracted by such a monument of the past to the

story of its founder. A standard drama and novel were long since made to

illustrate those annals,[15] but it was reserved for an Englishman in Italy

to record, in a well-digested and authentic narrative, the career of

Filippo, whose immense wealth, marriage to a Medici, family ambition,

scholarship, political and social distinction, enterprise, and luxury, and

especially his financial relations with both rulers and ruled, make him one

of those central figures of an historic group that serve as expositors of

the time. He was indeed, by his accomplishments and his profligacy, his

intrigues and associations, his alliances and enmities, his domestic and

his political life, a representative man, whose character and career aptly

embody and illustrate a most stirring era of European and Italian history.

He escorted Catharine de' Medici on her bridal journey from Florence,

talked philosophy at Medicean banquets, was closeted with popes and kings,

was the boon companion of reigning dukes, a courtier to princes and people,

a magnificent entertainer, a fugitive, exile, prisoner, sceptic, scholar,

and suicide,--typifying in his life the luxury and lawlessness, the culture

and the crime, the splendor and the degradation, the manners and morals, of

his country and his age,--and hence a most instructive biographical study,

which Mr. Trollope has treated with equal fulness, insight, and

authenticity.

But the most felicitous of the series is the "Decade of Italian Women." The

idea of this work is worthy of a philosopher, and its execution, of a

humane scholar. It has long been an accepted theory, that, to understand

the talent and pervasive spirit of an age or country, we must look to the

influence and character of the women. A subtile social atmosphere exhales

from their presence and power in the state and the family; and the dominant

elements of faith, as well as the tone of manners and the tendencies of

character, find in the best endowed and most auspiciously situated of the

sex, an embodiment and inspiration which are the most authentic, because

the most instinctive, test and trait of the life of the time. Shakespeare

has, with exquisite insight and memorable skill, illustrated this

representative function of woman by creating types of female character

which, while they modify and mould persons and events, preserve intact

their essential quality of sex, and yet represent none the less the spirit

and manners of their respective epochs. Scott has done the same thing in an

historical direction, that Shakespeare realized in a psychological way. We

regard it, therefore, as a most judicious experiment to indicate the

characteristics of mediaeval Italy by delineating her representative women.

They inevitably lead us to the heart of things,--to the palace, the

convent, the court, the vigil of battle, and the triumph of art,--to the

loves of warrior, statesman, and priest,--to the inmost domestic

shrine,--to the festival and the funeral; and all this we behold, not

objectively, but through our vivid interest in a noble, persecuted,

saintly, impassioned, or gifted woman, and thus partake, as it were, of the

life of the age, realize its inspiration, recognize its meaning, in a

manner and to a degree impossible to be derived from the formal narrative

of events, without a central figure or a consecutive life which serves as a

nucleus and a link, giving vital unity and personal significance to the

whole.

The period of time embraced in these female biographies extends from the

birth of St. Catherine of Siena, in 1347, to the death of the celebrated

_improvvisatrice_ Corilla, in 1800. With the career of each is identified a

salient phase of Italian history, manners, or character; incident to the

experience of all are special localities, political and social conditions,

relations of art, of faith, of culture, of rule, and of morals, whereby we

obtain the most desirable glimpses of the actual life and latent tendencies

of Italy, considered as the focus of European civilization. We gaze upon a

woman's portrait, but beyond, beside, and around her are the warriors,

statesmen, prelates, poets, and people of her time. Through her triumphs

and trials, her renown or degradation, her love, ambition, sorrows,

virtues, or sins, we feel, as well as see, the vital facts of her age and

country. Nor is this all: each character is not only full of interest in

itself, but is essentially typical and representative. Thus we have the

fair saint of the Middle Ages, the energetic and sagacious ruler, the

gracious reformer, the artist, the near kinswoman of prince or

ecclesiastic, the poetess, the _chatelaine_, the nun, the profligate, the

powerful, the beautiful, and the base,--all the forms and forces of womanly

influence as modified by the life of the time and country. They move before

us a grand procession, now awakening admiration and now pity, here

ravishing in beauty or genius and there forlorn in disaster or disgrace,

yet always bearing with them the strong individuality and attractive

expression which, to the imagination, so easily transforms the heroines of

history into the ideals of the drama, or the characters of romance. And yet

in these delineations the author has indulged in no rhetorical

embellishments: he has arrived simply, and sometimes sternly, at the clear

statement of facts, and left them to convey their legitimate impression to

the reader's mind. The lives of many of these women have been written

before, some of them elaborately; but they are here grouped and contrasted

as illustrative of national life, and hence gain a fresh charm and

suggestiveness, especially as the fruits of research and the method of a

disciplined _raconteur_ are blent with the light and life of personal

observation as to scenes and memorials,--the land where they once dwelt,

its natural aspect and ancient trophies, being fondly familiar to the

biographer. Eloquent memoirs of female sovereigns have become popular

through the genial labors of Agnes Strickland and Mrs. Jameson, while

Shakespeare's women furnish a perpetual challenge to psychological critics;

but the "Decade of Italian Women" has a certain unity of aim and relative

interest which makes it, as a literary record, analogous to a complete,

though limited, gallery of family portraits, inasmuch as, however diverse

the characters, they own a common bond of race and nationality, and are

memorable exemplars thereof. First in the list is Catherine of Siena, the

Saint,--an accurate mediaeval religious delineation which all who have

visited the old city where her relics are preserved and her name reverenced

will value. Then we have Catherine Sforza,--the fair representative of one

of those powerful and princely families whose history is that of the state

they rule. Next comes the noblest and most gifted woman of the Middle Ages,

the friend of Michel Angelo, the ideal of a wife, and a lady of culture,

genius, and patriotism,--Vittoria Colonna. The Bishop of Palermo's

illegitimate daughter--a famous poetess, Tullia d' Arragona--precedes the

learned, pure, intrepid Protestant, Olimpia Morata, who takes us to the

court of Ferrara in its palmy days, to show how "like a star that dwells

apart" is a woman of rectitude and wisdom and faith amid the shallow, the

sensual, and the bigoted. The renowned Paduan actress, Isabella Adrieni,

gives us a striking illustration of the influence, traits, and triumphs of

histrionic genius in Italy of old; while among the prone towers and gloomy

arcades of Bologna we become intimate with the chaste and charming

aspirations and skill of Elisabetta Sirani, whose pencil was the pride of

the city, and whose character hallows her genius. Of La Corilla it is

enough to say, that she was the original of Madame de Stael's "Corinne";

and no woman could have been more wisely selected to represent the

fascination, subtlety, force of purpose, ambition, resources, passion, and

external success of an unprincipled patrician Italian beauty of the Middle

Ages than Bianca Capello.

With such a basis of research it is easy to infer how authentic, as a

picture of life, would be the superstructure of romantic fiction by an

author adequately equipped. Accordingly, the Italian novels of Thomas

Adolphus Trollope are most accurate and detailed reflections of local

characteristics; they are full of special information; and, while they

enlighten the novice as to the domestic economy, habits, ways of thinking,

costume, and social traditions of the people, they revive, with singular

freshness, to the mind of one who has sojourned in Italy, every particular

of his experience,--not only the _corso_, the opera, and the carnival, but

the meals, the phraseology, the household arrangements,--all that is most

individual in a district, with all that is most general as nationally

representative. Indeed, not a fact or trait of modern Tuscan life seems to

have escaped the author's vigilant observation and patient record; the life

of the effete noble, the frugal citizen, the shrewd broker, the pampered,

ecclesiastic, the peasant, and the artist is revealed with the most precise

and graphic detail. We are taken to the promenade and the _caffe_, to the

_piazza_ and the church, to the farm-house and the _palazzo_; and there we

see and hear the actual everyday intercourse of the people. The Tuscan

character is drawn to the life, without exaggeration, and even in its more

evanescent, as well as normal traits; its urbanity, gossip, thrift,

geniality, self-indulgence, and latent courage are admirably delineated;

its superior refinement, sobriety, love of show, and class peculiarities

are truly given; the old feudal manners that linger in modern civilization

are accounted for and illustrated, especially in the relation of dependants

"occupying every shade of gradation between a common servant and a bosom

friend." The author's ecclesiastic portraits are as exact, according to our

observation, as his brother's. Each class of Italian priests is portrayed

with discrimination, and no writer has better exemplified the paralyzing

and perverting influence of Romanism upon the integrity of domestic life,

and the purity and power of political aspirations. The women, too, are

typical,--remarkably free from fanciful embellishment, eloquent of race,

instinct with nature. Their limited culture, social prejudices, artless

charms, frugal lives, naive or reticent characters, as modified by town and

country, patrician or popular influences, we recognize at once as

identical with what we have known in the households or social circles of

Florence. Mr. Trollope, in all this, is a Flemish artist, and, as much of

the interest of his pictures depends on their truthfulness, perhaps they

are really appreciated only by those who have enjoyed adequate

opportunities of becoming intimate with the original scenes, situations,

and personages depicted. In the fidelity of his art he abstains from all

attempts at brilliancy, and ignores the intense and highly dramatic,

finding enough of wholesome interest in the real life around him, and well

satisfied to reproduce it with candor and sympathy; now and then indulging

in a philosophical suggestion or a judicious comment, and thus gradually,

but securely, winning the grateful recognition of his reader.

"La Beata" as completely takes those familiar with its scene into the life

and moral atmosphere of Florence, as does "The Vicar of Wakefield" into the

rural life of England before the days of railways and cheap journalism. The

streets, the dwellings, the people and incidents are so truly described,

the perspective is so correct, and the foreground so elaborate, that, with

the faithful local coloring and naive truth of the characters, we seem, as

we read, to be lost in a retrospective dream,--the more so as there is an

utter absence of the sensational and rhetorical in the style, which is that

of direct and unpretending narrative. The heroine is a saintly model,

though at the same time a thoroughly human girl,--such a one as the

artistic, superstitious, frugal, and simple experience of her class and of

the place could alone have fostered; the artist-hero is no less

characteristic,--a selfish, clever, amiable, ambitious, and superficial

Italian; while the old wax-candle manufacturer, with his domicile,

daughter, and church relations, is a genuine Florentine of his kind. The

life of the studio, then and there, is drawn from reality. The peculiar and

traditional customs, social experience, church ceremonials, popular fetes,

home and heart life, have a minute fidelity which renders the picture

vivid and winsome to one who well knows and wisely loves the Tuscan

capital. An English family delineated without the least exaggeration, and

with the striking contrasts such visitors always present to the native

scene and people of Italy, adds to and emphasizes the salient traits of the

story. Among the subjects described and illustrated with remarkable tact

and truth is that most interesting charitable fraternity, the

_Misericordia_, of which every stranger in Florence has caught impressive

glimpses, but of whose social influence and real significance few are

aware. Add to this the description of Camaldoli, with its famous pines, its

Dantesque associations, and its remorseful convent, and we have a scope and

detail in the scene and spirit of this little local romance which

concentrate the points of interest in Florentine life and bring into view

all that is most familiar and characteristic in the place and people. We

see the gay boats on St. John's eve from the bridges of the Arno, the

procession of the black Madonna, the interior of the studios, the

ceremonies, the saintly traffic and social subterfuge and naive

manners,--the tradesman, painter, devotee, priest,--pride, piety, and

passion,--whereof even the casual observation of a traveller's sojourn had

given us so curious or attractive an idea, that, thus expanded and defined,

they seem like a personal experience. There is singular pathos in the

character and career of La Beata, as there is in the expression of Santa

Filomena for which she was the recognized and inspired model. The integrity

of her sentiment is as Southern-European as is her lover's falsehood and

voluntary expiation. That absolute ignorance of the world and childlike

trust, which we rarely meet except in Shakespeare's women, is a moral fact

of which the stranger in Italy, who has grown intimate with families of the

middle class, is cognizant, and which he is apt to recall as one of those

elemental and primitive phases of human nature which justify the most pure

and plaintive creations of the poet. Herein the author has shown an

insight as honest and suggestive as his keen and patient observation and

candid record thereof.