CHAPTER V.

Parliament was at length dissolved; the new writs were issued, and the day

of nomination fixed for the Dreepdaily burghs. For a time it appeared to

myself, and indeed to almost every one else, that my return was perfectly

secure. Provost Binkie was in great glory, and the faces of the unknown

Clique were positively radiant with satisfaction. But a storm was brewing

in another quarter, upon which we had not previously calculated.

The Honourable Mr Pozzlethwaite, my opponent, had fixed his head-quarters

in Drouthielaw, and to all appearance was making very little progress in

Dreepdaily. Indeed, in no sense of the word could Pozzlethwaite be said to

be popular. He was a middle-aged man, as blind as a bat, and, in order to

cure the defect, he ornamented his visage with an immense pair of green

spectacles, which, it may be easily conceived, did not add to the beauty

of his appearance. In speech he was slow and verbose, in manner awkward,

in matter almost wholly unintelligible. He professed principles which he

said were precisely the same as those advocated by the late Jeremy

Bentham; and certainly, if he was correct in this, I do not regret that my

parents omitted to bring me up at the feet of the utilitarian Gamaliel. In

short, Paul was prosy to a degree, had not an atom of animation in his

whole composition, and could no more have carried a crowd along with him

than he could have supported Atlas upon his shoulders. A portion, however,

of philosophic weavers, and a certain section of the Seceders had declared

in his favour; and, moreover, it was just possible that he might gain the

suffrages of some of the Conservatives. Kittleweem, the Tory burgh, had

hitherto preserved the appearance of strict neutrality. I had attempted to

address the electors of that place, but I found that the hatred of

Dreepdaily and of its Clique was more powerful than my eloquence; and,

somehow or other, the benighted savages did not comprehend the merits of

the Revolution Settlement of 1688, and were as violently national as the

Celtic race before the invention of trews. Kittleweem had equipped half a

regiment for Prince Charles in the Forty-five, and still piqued itself on

its staunch Episcopacy. A Whig, therefore, could hardly expect to be

popular in such a den of prejudice. By the advice of M'Corkindale, I

abstained from any further efforts, which might possibly have tended to

exasperate the electors, and left Kittleweem to itself, in the hope that

it would maintain an armed neutrality.

And so it probably might have done, but for an unexpected occurrence. Two

days before the nomination, a new candidate appeared on the field. Sholto

Douglas was the representative of one of the oldest branches of his

distinguished name, and the race to which he more immediately belonged had

ever been foremost in the ranks of Scottish chivalry and patriotism. In

fact, no family had suffered more from their attachment to the cause of

legitimacy than the Douglases of Inveriachan. Forfeiture after forfeiture

had cut down their broad lands to a narrow estate, and but for an

unexpected Indian legacy, the present heir would have been marching as a

subaltern in a foot regiment. But a large importation of rupees had

infused new life and spirit into the bosom of Sholto Douglas. Young,

eager, and enthusiastic, he determined to rescue himself from obscurity;

and the present state of the Dreepdaily burghs appeared to offer a most

tempting opportunity. Douglas was, of course, Conservative to the

backbone; but, more than that, he openly proclaimed himself a friend of

the people, and a supporter of the rights of labour.

"Confound the fellow!" said Bob M'Corkindale to me, the morning after

Sholto's address had been placarded through the burghs, "who would have

thought of an attack of this kind from such a quarter. Have you seen his

manifesto, Dunshunner?"

"Yes--here it is in the Patriot. The editor, however, gives him it soundly

in the leading article. I like his dogmatic style and wholesale

denunciation of the Tories."

"I'll tell you what it is, though--I look upon this as any thing but a

joke. Douglas is evidently not a man to stand upon old aristocratic

pretensions. He has got the right sow by the ear this time, and, had he

started a little earlier, might have roused the national spirit to a very

unpleasant pitch. You observe what he says about Scotland, the neglect of

her local interests, and the manner in which she has been treated, with

reference to Ireland?"

"I do. And you will be pleased to recollect that but for yourself,

something of the same kind would have appeared in my address."

"If you mean that as a reproach, Dunshunner, you are wrong. How was it

possible to have started you as a Whig upon patriotic principles?"

"Well--that's true enough. At the same time, I cannot help wishing that we

had said a word or two about the interests to the north of the Tweed."

"What is done cannot be undone. We must now stick by the Revolution

Settlement."

"Do you know, Bob, I think we have given them quite enough of that same

settlement already. Those fellows at Kittleweem laughed in my face the

last time that I talked about it, and I am rather afraid that it won't go

down on the hustings."

"Try the sanatory condition of the towns, then, and universal conciliation

to Ireland," replied the Economist. "I have given orders to hire two

hundred Paddies, who have come over for the harvest, at a shilling a-head,

and of course you may depend upon their voices, and also their shillelahs,

if needful. I think we should have a row. It would be a great matter to

make Douglas unpopular; and, with a movement of my little finger, I could

turn out a whole legion of navigators."

"No, Bob, you had better not. It is just possible they might make a

mistake, and shy brickbats at the wrong candidate. It will be safer, I

think, to leave the mob to itself: at the same time, we shall not be the

worse for the Tipperary demonstration. And how looks the canvass?"

"Tolerably well, but not perfectly secure. The Clique has done its very

best, but at the same, time there is undeniably a growing feeling against

it. Many people grumble about its dominion, and are fools enough to say

that they have a right to think for themselves."

"Could you not circulate a report that Pozzlethwaite is the man of the

Clique?"

"The idea is ingenious, but I fear it would hardly work. Dreepdaily is

well known to be the head-quarters of the confederation, and the name of

Provost Binkie is inseparably connected with it."

"By the way, M'Corkindale, it struck me that you looked rather sweet upon

Miss Binkie last evening."

"I did. In fact I popped the question," replied Robert calmly.

"Indeed! Were you accepted?"

"Conditionally. If we gain the election she becomes Mrs M'Corkindale--if

we lose, I suppose I shall have to return to Glasgow in a state of

celibacy."

"A curious contract, certainly! Well, Bob, since your success is involved

in mine, we must fight a desperate battle."

"I wish, though, that Mr Sholto Douglas had been kind enough to keep out

of the way," observed M'Corkindale.

The morning of the day appointed for the nomination dawned upon the people

of Dreepdaily with more than usual splendour. For once, there was no mist

upon the surrounding hills, and the sky was clear as sapphire. I rose

early to study my speech, which had received the finishing touches from

M'Corkindale on the evening before; and I flatter myself it was as pretty

a piece of Whig rhetoric as ever was spouted from a hustings. Toddy Tam,

indeed, had objected, upon seeing a draft, that "there was nae banes intil

it;" but the political economist was considered by the committee a

superior authority on such subjects to Gills. After having carefully

conned it over, I went down stairs, where the whole party were already

assembled. A large blue and yellow flag, with the inscription, "DUNSHUNNER

AND THE GOOD CAUSE!" was hung out from the window, to the intense delight

of a gang of urchins, who testified to the popularity of the candidate by

ceaseless vociferation to "poor out." The wall opposite, however, bore

some memoranda of an opposite tendency, for I could see some large

placards, newly pasted up, on which the words, "ELECTORS OF DREEPDAILY!

YOU ARE SOLD BY THE CLIQUE!" were conspicuous in enormous capitals. I

heard, too, something like a ballad chanted, in which my name seemed to be

coupled, irreverently, with that of the independent Gills.

Provost Binkie--who, in common with the rest of the company, wore upon his

bosom an enormous blue and buff cockade, prepared by the fair hands of his

daughter--saluted me with great cordiality. I ought to observe that the

Provost had been kept as much as possible in the dark regarding the actual

results of the canvass. He was to propose me, and it was thought that his

nerves would be more steady if he came forward under the positive

conviction of success.

"This is a great day, Mr Dunshunner--a grand day for Dreepdaily," he said.

"A day, if I may sae speak, o' triumph and rejoicing! The news o' this

will rin frae one end o' the land to the ither--for the e'en o' a'

Scotland is fixed on Dreepdaily, and the stench auld Whig principles is

sure to prevail, even like a mighty river that rins down in spate to the

sea!"

I justly concluded that this figure of speech formed part of the address

to the electors which for the two last days had been simmering in the

brain of the worthy magistrate, along with the fumes of the potations he

had imbibed, as incentives to the extraordinary effort. Of course I took

care to appear to participate in his enthusiasm. My mind, however, was

very far from being thoroughly at ease.

As twelve o'clock, which was the hour of nomination, drew near, there was

a great muster at my committee-room. The band of the Independent

Tee-totallers, who to a man were in my interest, was in attendance. They

had been well primed with ginger cordial, and were obstreperous to a

gratifying degree.

Toddy Tam came up to me with a face of the colour of carnation.

"I think it richt to tell ye, Mr Dunshunner, that there will be a bit o' a

bleeze ower yonder at the hustings. The Kittleweem folk hae come through

in squads, and Lord Hartside's tenantry have marched in a body, wi' Sholto

Douglas's colours flying."

"And the Drouthielaw fellows--what has become of them?"

"Od, they're no wi' us either--they're just savage at the Clique!

Gudesake, Mr Dunshunner, tak tent, and dinna say a word aboot huz. I

intend mysell to denounce the body, and may be that will do us gude."

I highly approved of Mr Gills' determination, and as the time had now

come, we formed in column, and marched towards the hustings with the

tee-total band in front, playing a very lugubrious imitation of "Glorious

Apollo."

The other candidates had already taken their places. The moment I was

visible to the audience, I was assailed by a volley of yells, among which,

cries of "Doun wi' the Clique!"--"Wha bought them?"--"Nae nominee!"--"We've

had eneuch o' the Whigs!" etcetera, were distinctly audible. This was not

at all the kind of reception I had bargained for;--however, there was

nothing for it but to put on a smiling face, and I reciprocated courtesies

as well as I could with both of my honourable opponents.

During the reading of the writ and the Bribery Act, there was a deal of

joking, which I presume was intended to be good-humoured. At the same time

there could be no doubt that it was distinctly personal. I heard my name

associated with epithets of any thing but an endearing description, and,

to say the truth, if choice had been granted, I would far rather have been

at Jericho than in the front of the hustings at Dreepdaily. A man must be,

indeed, intrepid, and conscious of a good cause, who can oppose himself

without blenching to the objurgation of an excited mob.

The Honourable Paul Pozzlethwaite, on account of his having been the

earliest candidate in the field, was first proposed by a town-councillor

of Drouthielaw. This part of the ceremony appeared to excite but little

interest, the hooting and cheering being pretty equally distributed.

It was now our turn.

"Gang forrard, Provost, and be sure ye speak oot!" said Toddy Tam; and Mr

Binkie advanced accordingly.

Thereupon such a row commenced as I never had witnessed before. Yelling is

a faint word to express the sounds of that storm of extraordinary wrath

which descended upon the head of the devoted Provost. "Clique! Clique!"

resounded on every side, and myriads of eyes, ferocious as those of the

wild-cat, were bent scowlingly on my worthy proposer. In vain did he

gesticulate--in vain implore. The voice of Demosthenes--nay, the deep bass

of Stentor himself--could not have been heard amidst that infernal uproar;

so that, after working his arms for a time like the limbs of a telegraph,

and exerting himself until he became absolutely swart in the face, Binkie

was fain to give it up, and retired amidst a whirlwind of abuse.

"May the deil fly awa' wi' the hail pack o' them!" said he, almost

blubbering with excitement and indignation. "Wha wad ever hae thocht to

have seen the like o' this? and huz, too, that gied them the Reform Bill!

Try your hand at them, Tam, for my heart's amaist broken!"

The bluff independent character of Mr Gills, and his reputed purity from

all taint of the Clique, operated considerably in his favour. He advanced

amidst general cheering, and cries of "Noo for Toddy Tam!" "Let's hear Mr

Gills!" and the like; and as he tossed his hat aside and clenched his

brawny fist, he really looked the incarnation of a sturdy and independent

elector. His style, too, was decidedly popular--

"Listen tae me!" he said, "and let thae brawlin', braggin', bletherin'

idiwits frae Drouthielaw haud their lang clavering tongues, and no keep

rowtin' like a herd o' senseless nowte! (Great cheering from Dreepdaily

and Kittleweem--considerable disapprobation from Drouthielaw.) I ken them

weel, the auld haverils! (cheers.) But you, my freends, that I have dwalt

wi' for twenty years, is it possible that ye can believe for one moment

that I wad submit to be dictated to by a Clique? (Cries of "no! no!" "It's

no you, Tam!" and confusion.) No me? I dinna thank ye for that! Wull ony

man daur to say to my face, that I ever colleagued wi' a pack that wad buy

and sell the haill of us as readily as ye can deal wi' sheep's-heads in

the public market? (Laughter.) Div ye think that if Mr Dunshunner was ony

way mixed up wi' that gang, I wad be here this day tae second him? Div ye

think----"

Here Mr Gills met with a singular interruption. A remarkable figure

attired in a red coat and cocked-hat, at one time probably the property of

a civic officer, and who had been observed for some time bobbing about in

front of the hustings, was now elevated upon the shoulders of a yeoman,

and displayed to the delighted spectators the features of Geordie Dowie.

"Ay, Toddy Tam, are ye there, man?" cried Geordie with a malignant grin.

"What was you and the Clique doin' at Nanse Finlayson's on Friday nicht?"

"What was it, Geordie? What was it?" cried a hundred voices.

"Am I to be interrupted by a natural?" cried Gills, looking, however,

considerably flushed in the face.

"What hae ye dune wi' the notes, Tam, that the lang chield up by there

gied ye? And whaur's your freends, Shanks and M'Auslan? See that ye steek

to the window neist time, ma man!" cried Geordie with demoniac ferocity.

This was quite enough for the mob, who seldom require any excuse for a

display of their hereditary privileges. A perfect hurricane of hissing,

and of yelling arose, and Gills, though he fought like a hero, was at last

forced to retire from the contest. Had Geordie Dowie's windpipe been

within his grasp at that moment, I would not have insured for any amount

the life of the perfidious spy.

Sholto Douglas was proposed and seconded amidst great cheering, and then

Pozzlethwaite rose to speak. I do not very well recollect what he said,

for I had quite enough to do in thinking about, myself, and the Honourable

Paul would have conferred a material obligation upon me, if he had talked

for an hour longer. At length my turn came.

"Electors of Dreepdaily!"--

That was the whole of my speech, at least the whole of it that was audible

to any one human being. Humboldt, if I recollect right, talks in one of

his travels of having somewhere encountered a mountain composed of

millions of entangled snakes, whose hissing might have equalled that of

the transformed legions of Pandemonium. I wish Humboldt, for the sake of

scientific comparison, could have been upon the hustings that day! Certain

I am, that the sibilation did not leave my ears for a fortnight

afterwards, and even now, in my slumbers, I am haunted by a wilderness of

asps! However, at the urgent entreaty of M'Corkindale, I went on for about

ten minutes, though I was quivering in every limb, and as pale as a ghost;

and in order that the public might not lose the benefit of my sentiments,

I concluded by handing a copy of my speech, interlarded with fictitious

cheers, to the reporter for the Dreepdaily Patriot. That document may

still be seen by the curious in the columns of that impartial newspaper.

I will state this for Sholto Douglas, that he behaved like a perfect

gentleman. There was in his speech no triumph over the discomfiture which

the other candidates had received; on the contrary, he rather rebuked the

audience for not having listened to us with greater patience. He then went

on with his oration. I need hardly say it was a national one, and it was

most enthusiastically cheered.

All that I need mention about the show of hands is, that it was not by any

means hollow in my favour.

That afternoon we were not quite so lively in the Committee-room as usual.

The serenity of Messrs Gills, M'Auslan, and Shanks,--and, perhaps, I may

add of myself--was a good deal shaken by the intelligence that a broadside

with the tempting title of "_Full and Particular Account of an interview

between the Clique and Mr Dunshunner, held at Nanse Finlayson's Tavern, on

Friday last, and how they came to terms. By an Eyewitness_," was

circulating like wildfire through the streets. To have been beaten by a

Douglas was nothing, but to have been so artfully entrapped by a bauldy!

Provost Binkie, too, was dull and dissatisfied. The reception he had met

with in his native town was no doubt a severe mortification, but the

feeling that he had been used as a catspaw and implement of the Clique,

was, I suspected, uppermost in his mind. Poor man! We had great difficulty

that evening in bringing him to his sixth tumbler.

Even M'Corkindale was hipped. I own I was surprised at this, for I knew of

old the indefatigable spirit and keen energy of my friend, and I thought

that with such a stake as he had in the contest, he would even have

redoubled his exertions. Such, however, was not the case.

I pass over the proceedings at the poll. From a very early hour it became

perfectly evident that my chance was utterly gone; and, indeed, had it

been possible, I should have left Dreepdaily before the close. At four

o'clock the numbers stood thus:--

DREEPDAILY. DROUTHIELAW. KITTLEWEEM.

DOUGLAS, 94 63 192

POZZLETHWAITE, 59 73 21

DUNSHUNNER, 72 19 7

Majority for DOUGLAS, 196.

We had an awful scene in the Committee-room. Gills, who had been drinking

all day, shed copious floods of tears; Shanks was disconsolate; and

M'Auslan refused to be comforted. Of course I gave the usual pledge, that

on the very first opportunity I should come forward again to reassert the

independence of the burghs, now infamously sacrificed to a Conservative;

but the cheering at this announcement was of the very faintest

description, and I doubt whether any one believed me. Two hours afterwards

I was miles away from Dreepdaily.

I have since had letters from that place, which inform me that the Clique

is utterly discomfited; that for some days the component members of it

might be seen wandering through the streets, and pouring their husky

sorrows into the ears of every stray listener whom they could find, until

they became a positive nuisance. My best champion, however, was the

Editor of the Patriot. That noble and dauntless individual continued for

weeks afterwards to pour forth Jeremiads upon my defeat, and stigmatised

my opponents and their supporters as knaves, miscreants, and nincompoops.

I was, he maintained, the victim of a base conspiracy, and the degraded

town of Dreepdaily would never be able thereafter to rear its polluted

head in the Royal Convention of Burghs.

Whilst these things were going on in Dreepdaily, I was closeted with

M'Corkindale in Glasgow.

"So, then, you have lost your election," said he.

"And you have lost your wife."

"Neither of the two accidents appear to be irreparable," replied Robert.

"How so? Do you still think of Miss Binkie?"

"By no means. I made some little inquiry the day before the election, and

discovered that a certain nest-egg was enormously exaggerated, if not

altogether fictitious."

"Well, Bob, there is certainly nobody like yourself for getting

information."

"I do my best. May I inquire into the nature of your future movements?"

"I have not yet made up my mind. These election matters put every thing

else out of one's head. Let me see--August is approaching, and I half

promised the Captain of M'Alcohol to spend a few weeks with him at his

shooting-quarters."

"Are you aware, Dunshunner, that one of your bills falls due at the

Gorbals Bank upon Tuesday next?"

"Mercy upon me, Bob! I had forgotten all about it."

I did not go to the Highlands after all. The fatigue and exertion we had

undergone rendered it quite indispensable that my friend Robert and I

should relax a little. Accordingly we have both embarked for a short run

upon the Continent.

_Boulogue-sur-Mer.

12th August 1847._

THE CRUSADE OF THE CHILDREN.

Some years ago, while the pastoral charge of the little Saxon village of

Groenstetten, from some neglect in the proper authorities, remained vacant,

that neighborhood was visited by a strange religious epidemic. It had

formerly, indeed, been one of the most cheerful places; standing together,

house by house, in the midst of a large, well cultivated plain, on which

the fields, scarcely marked out from one another save by neighbourly

tokens, stretched with their green level to the side, of the woods, only

varied by the different colours of the several crops. The little old

church, surrounded by a few spreading trees, stood at the end of the

village on some higher ground, raising its gilded steeple into the blue

air, so that it always seemed to be touched by an evening sun. Neither

wall nor fence was to be seen, and the surrounding level looked like the

single farm of a brotherhood; the peasants, noticing of a fine Sunday

afternoon how the season had advanced their wheat or flax, appeared to a

stranger almost as much interested in one patch as in another. Various

games and exercises went on amongst the young men and boys after work and

school hours, on the piece of common near the churchyard, while the young

maidens and the old people with their children stood by. Nowhere were

holidays, occasions of marriage, and old festival traditions more fondly

kept; in every house at Christmas, while snow was on the ground and on the

bare woods, the window shone so brightly against the icicles hanging from

the roof, as the Christmas-tree, with its prettily-adorned branches, was

lighted-up; and the whole united family surprised each other with

carefully prepared gifts. Then at Easter time, when spring was bursting

out of trees and earth, and the birds beginning to sing again, you might

have seen with what joy the children rolled their coloured paschal eggs

along the grass, parents entering into their feelings with smiles. It was

a serious business for them to dress and water the graves under the church

wall, wreathing the small head-stones with garlands of fresh wild-flowers,

gathered about the ruins of the old castle, which rose on a neighbouring

height. Nor did many evenings ever pass that there was not some meeting of

the young people in one of the village houses, where the girls brought

their spindles, or pieces of cloth to make a bedcover for the dame; while

the youths stood by to seize the opportunity for sundry advances of rustic

courtship. All this gaiety was by no means inconsistent with the industry

in which this resembled other villages of the district; and as little did

it result from any want of earnestness and serious thought in matters of

religion, or in the attendance upon those services to which the church in

due season called every one. For it was while the venerable old pastor

lived, that this state of things lasted at Groenstetten. The good man

himself diffused by his presence among them, as well as by his precepts, a

spirit not only of devotion, but of cheerfulness; nor would he have

failed, in case of any causeless absence from church, or on occasion of a

breach of morality, to visit, and faithfully reprove the offender. Even

after his death, when the services were only occasionally performed by

strangers, the change of feeling in the village would not have occurred,

but for some other circumstances; doubtless the people themselves

possessed sufficient independence and ground of faith to pursue their

lives according, to the true temper of rational men, had none interfered

with them.

But, about this time, there came frequently to Groenstetten several

preachers of a new and almost unknown sect, and of a cast altogether

different from what the people had been accustomed to. These persons

considered that in time past at Groenstetten all had been in a manner

spiritually dead; that men there, indeed, were as good as asleep to all

eternal realities, or were at best dreamers of false peace. Not only did

they, in their fervid addresses, exaggerate the vileness of human nature,

and set it against itself, but the idea of goodness placed by them before

the mind, seemed one wholly different from its own direction of progress,

if not altogether unattainable. Many simple natural affections were by

them almost represented as sinful, while they looked upon the customary

diversions in the light of unholy levities, and upon the old holiday

practices as traditions quite heathenish. In short, the heaven to which

they pointed so mystically, appeared to consist in an utter contrast to

all conceptions which were ever formed on earth, to every joy which had

been felt by men, even in their moments of purest contact with each other

and nature; the reward of some great sacrifice and toil, which were to be

undergone. There was much talk of strange, unutterable changes to take

place on the earth, for which preparation was to be made; and the new

preachers exulted in the interpretation of prophecies, which they fancied

could be understood beforehand, in making men uneasy at thought of all

outward coming of the Lord, of wars, and destruction, which would make the

world worse than ever it had been. Their meeting-house, opened in an old

barn, was at first frequented chiefly by women, since the men and older

people had a natural dislike to innovation; but eventually the very

newness of the doctrine began to gain ground for it, and the fact of its

being so distinct from that of the late pastor, only tended to reflect

upon his memory. There is, certainly, something in our nature, by which

those things most opposed to it, as in a kind of fascination at times lay

hold of it; so in hateful dreams or ghost-fears. Especially if the soul be

not regularly furnished with supplies of healthy and cheerful

enlightenment; and thus it was that this kind of unearth-like religion,

imported by men of zeal for the most part sincere and also assisted by

sympathy with other places in the neighbourhood, exerted so much influence

at the village of Groenstetten. The first symptom of this was exhibited in

a certain secret discomfort at home, a sense of division between persons

of the same household, which made them look strangely and wonderingly on

each other. It seemed, indeed, to be a principal and favourite object of

the new-comers to gain over the female members; they aimed their chief

blow at the family sacredness, alleging the words, "I am come to set the

husband against the wife, the son against the father, and the

daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law." People came to feel nature

also as discordant with themselves; the very grass and trees, and the

quietness of the air, seemed to many not so good as before; the mute,

inanimate things appeared almost as so many tempting wiles of a hidden

power which was below, working through all, and meaning man evil. One

would have thought, as they stood listlessly at their doors of an evening,

looking beyond into the distance, that they would have taken up staff or

scrip and set out on pilgrimage, had they but known where to go, or what

to do. After all, however, this state of matters wore itself out, and

gradually returned to something like the former; nor would any one have

been the worse, rather, in truth, a little wiser, upon the eventual

settlement of a new pastor at Groenstetten. Only, indeed, that a few who

had not joined in the late feeling, and who had previously been united to

their neighbours by intercourse, had for the time seemed to be excluded

from their better sympathies, became more worldly, and were inclined to

scoff at holy things. As in all cases of extremes, the bad had grown more

addicted to vice, none stretching out to them a better hand; and it was

long ere a reviving sense of brotherhood did much to raise them higher.

Still the most peculiar feature of this excitement was, that, as if its

impulse must extend through every class, the younger people latterly

showed signs of a religious emotion, yet stronger and more remarkable than

in those less subject to impressions from their years. What they saw and

heard in others had sunk into the children's minds, which brooded upon it

as if upon the sense of some dispeace, and contradiction at the heart of

domestic forms; as if to their clearer instinct various inconsistencies

in the practice of life, nay in the parental relations, had been revealed;

yet for which the true remedy had been by them misconceived. This appeared

with many of them partly in the shape of impatience to go forth into the

world, a weariness when the sun light, shining into the cottage, stole

from chair to chair, and the clock ticked monotonously against the wall.

Something that was to be done and suffered seemed to lie far without; the

object of their lives and souls, from which friends, parents, with their

daily earth-customs, were tyrannically withholding them. But chiefly,

perhaps, from ill-judged, dealing with this vague desire, was it

frequently betrayed in enthusiastic words, in a sort of unaccountable,

ecstasy in trances, which some reckoned prophetic. Instead of the

life-like, careless, childish games, and little quaint devices, which

formerly enlivened the house or open air, they gathered together praying,

as if for the fulfilment of an unspeakable distantlonging; they went up

the street, or across the fields, singing devout hymns. One or another at

home would stand up by the table, unabashed by the presence of elder

people, and speak from the seeming influence of some internal

communication, mystical, half-articulate words, and piously-sounding

reproofs or exhortations. It was in vain to chide or chastise them;

trustful obedience, humility, content with home, simple duties, cheerful

playfulness, were during this interval gone. Parents expected every day to

see the childish train assemble and depart from the village on some

rapture-wandering; and they were careful every night to lock the doors,

and see their family in bed.

None had watched throughout the course of this remarkable visitation, more

unaffected by its power than the steadfast, intelligent old Wendel,

schoolmaster of Groenstetten; but, especially, he observed its effect upon

his own peculiar charge with no small measure of careful anxiety. One fine

afternoon, towards the end of school-time, he dismissed the children from

their tasks, and gathering them around his seat near the open casements,

intimated his intention of relating to them a story from true history, as

was occasionally his custom. The old dame his wife, and his daughter, were

seated behind him with their work; and the venerable gray-haired man

looked cheerfully on the crowd of sober young faces in front, as if he

would have diffused somewhat of the spirit of childhood again from his own

experience into their innocence. A book from which he had been reading at

mid-day lay upon his little desk. Far beyond, out in the upper air shown

through the window, a golden sunlight came over the cool green woods, and

fell upon the gray towers of the old ruined castle of Groenstetten.

"Children," said he, "yonder old castle takes us back in thought to the

time of which I would speak. You must know, that in the old time things

were very different from what they are now, although the same green earth

and blue air enclosed between them men and children who were at heart the

same as ourselves. However, the world was then in great darkness and

ignorance: there were no books for children, nor picture's such as you

have here to show you what is in other countries; nor were there any

schools except for churchmen. The good Heavenly Father, who is always

teaching men, doth it by degrees; and for a long time it was only the

priests and learned clerks who knew any thing of what God had been doing

with the world. This knowledge remained chiefly in their heads; but when

the help of strong arms against unbelievers was needed, the time came in

which warriors and people also were partly let into the secret. The heart

of all Christendom was stirred with the thought that pilgrims were denied

access to the place where such great matters had been transacted, and that

the holy ground of our Saviour's burial was in the keeping of infidels, as

if once more the stone which had been rolled away was put back, and Christ

were buried again. Warriors and workmen, having now a part, as it were, in

the Church, set out in multitudes to rescue Jerusalem. It was then, too,

that the Lord of Groenstetten left his castle, seeking to expiate many a

crime he had committed by travelling so many leagues, and striking so many

blows. All this was, no doubt, calculated to teach those who went, and

those to whom they afterwards returned, not to place their heaven on

earth, nor to make up for concerns of the soul by bodily things; when they

found, _there_ also, enemies of flesh and blood, and after all the

sepulchre empty. Long after this, when the enthusiasm of men about the

Holy Land was beginning to fail, and they were looking for the road to

Heaven in other ways, the lingering spirit which had once led them forth,

seemed to descend in a simpler and purer way into the hearts of children.

You may be sure that to Them at home, where all lessons and thoughts were

learnt out of the shape of visible things, the sight of those brilliant

pageants ever passing towards the East--the tales of pilgrims who came

from thence--had been to them as a longing dream. The natural feeling of

the young is like that of a heaven near to them--of a holy delight to be

at once gained, and without conception of the long, difficult way between,

or even of the real entrance to it. The firmament which lies overhead

appears to descend upon the very earth at a distance, and all visions and

radiant things to issue from an everlasting morning source that is

attainable. They know not how, in reality, the natural world is rounded

upon itself, so that over every particular spot a continual morn, noon,

evening, and night are indeed breaking, and that only in this same station

should the life of each individual be best carried out, not leaving it,

but accepting there every quiet degree of heaven. At this period of which

I speak it became more and more the fashion of the Church, and of those

who made pictures or images for shrines, to represent the Saviour as a

young child in the arms of Mary his mother. For priests and grown men, the

patron was Madonna; whereas Jesus seemed to have himself become again a

little Child, appealing finally to the hearts of children. When the Holy

City and its land were relapsing once more into the hands of Moslems, many

beheld visions and dreams of the Virgin, who, with a sad and pleading

face, held out her son, or appeared to be vainly attempting to approach

his grave. In France, Italy, and the south of our own German land,

children and young people, as if without conference between each other,

began very generally to imitate that desire which was already passing away

from older persons. They took vows, and banded themselves together to

deliver the Holy Land from bondage; nor were there wanting monks and

priests who encouraged this emotion, proclaiming that God had chosen the

weak things of this earth to confound the strong; and out of the mouths of

babes and sucklings would perfect praise. Sometimes you might have seen

parents, who in their ignorance partook of this enthusiasm, yoking their

oxen to rude carts, and, with their children seated on their household

goods, leaving home to find out the Holy Land; and at every city which

they came in sight of, the children would shout joyfully, asking if that

were Jerusalem. But in one part of Germany at least those vague wishes

were drawn out at last into action by the mysterious visits of one,

attired like a palmer, with staff and scallop-shell, who passed from house

to house, declaring the Divine call. At his voice, the group playing

merrily by the wayside was changed into a throng of serious figures:

fathers and mothers who returned from church or market found that this

strange wayfarer, during their absence, had stood at their hearth. In

their longing to be concerned in some behest more pure and worthy than

those which were enjoined by earthly friends, the young regarded all

common tasks as trivial; they forgot their own childhood in this

phantom-Christ who seemed to call them away. The trees and roofs of

home!--what were they to the spires and palms of that Jerusalem? And they

looked upon the old people as foolish utterly. To the parents, truly this

loss of love between them and those they had nourished was very

dreadful--this Heaven, that would alienate and draw away their offspring

into it, yet had no reference to their own hopes and wishes! In our times,

the wise father knows how better to deal with such inexperienced dreams,

which indeed are now rather more apt to represent this living world too

brightly than to scorn it for spiritual objects; he suffers the boy to

take time and find out the reality. But in those days heaven and earth

were confounded; they knew not with what words or means to disprove these

fancies; there was no world of books wherein the young soul might spend

its superfluous thought and distinguish facts from ideas. Thus had they

recourse only to outward watchfulness; to locking doors, and separating

the children from their companions, whereby the more proud and wilful were

but more confirmed. They waited for escape, and got away even by making

holes in the walls; issuing forth from home as to a festival procession,

which, swelling by degrees to many thousands, was heard passing by the

villages, and on toward the East. The eldest was not more than eighteen,

while numbers there were of far tenderer years, who, singing as they went,

travelled under guidance only of the sky, as each morning it lightened up

with radiance, and marked some especial valley or mountain-path as the

last verge of a golden Orient. From towns or castles they held apart,

sustained merely by the fruits of the earth, or by the gifts of solitary

peasants, who rejoiced to offer food to the holy pilgrimage, while at the

same time they carefully shut in their own children until it was long out

of sight. But as the country grew around them more waste and desert, as

they traversed wide, lonely, and barren plains, deep forests, or toilsome

hills, the case became different. Some, scattered from the rest, lost

their way; others, from weariness and hunger alone, dropped down and

died--boys and girls, who in that hour only remembered the bitterness of

their mothers' hearts for their loss. Still the main body continued to

press forward, encouraged by some bolder spirits amongst them, or by the

steadfast, confiding faith of others; for it was the youngest often who

seemed to be filled with such patient constancy, so ineffable a sense of

Divine aid, that they would scarce have hesitated to cross the deep river

on foot, or to throw themselves from the loftiest precipices. Ever and

anon, beyond some rude ascent, the broad level of the earth would stretch

before them to the silvery horizon, so bright, so green, so beautiful,

that methought it was the border of a holier country. Or when the rainbow

suddenly spanned the distance with its vivid arch, those who were foremost

appeared to the last already to be entering through its gate of triumph

into a land of glorious colours, of celestial transfigurement. Then would

the stragglers press on in haste to make up with them, but only in time to

mix with the crowd which now stood shivering and confused in the shadow of

that cloud from which the meteor had passed away. Nevertheless, who could

doubt but that the land which they sought, which had been attained by so

many multitudes before, truly existed? Were not all these things but signs

of its being--tokens that beckoned onward, or difficulties they were to

conquer? And when at length the hearts of the children, hitherto sustained

by fellow-feeling and the deep excitement of their imagination, did sink

down utterly before these hardships, in ignorance of their way--when they

had begun to think wistfully each of his own home, with its little daily

tasks--then there appeared mysteriously, to guide them, the form of that

unknown palmer who had first called them forth. It boots not to follow,

step by step, their after wanderings--the further evils which befel

them--by what weary ways, by what disappointments, and what incitements

they were encountered, until--still led by that strange messenger, whether

man, or fiend, or angel--they reached the coasts of the sea. For there,

indeed, was the dream of those children bitterly dispelled; there they

found a city where men spoke and thought only of buying and selling--where

they lived to get gold. Thither, in truth, there came many barks from the

East--from that region which had appeared to the children full only of

thoughts and sacred mysteries; but the vessels were laden with silks and

spices for the rich and noble at home. And, alas! lamentable was the fate

of the young pilgrims, falling into the avaricious hands of those, who

perchance had heard of their childish visions to draw them thus forth into

their power. Because they had nothing else but their beloved gold to

exchange for the costly products of the East, those merchants did not

scruple even to send to Moors and Saracens for slaves these poor youthful

victims who had so delivered themselves up. The Ships were filled with

many Christian children, who were thus borne by the wind and sea, as it

were, into a region of utter doubt and evil--having cause almost to regard

all old beliefs as falsehood, and all men as pitiless and unfriendly. It

is sad, my children, to think how true these things were; that so many

fair young maidens, who had been their fathers' and mothers' pride, were

forced to brook the will of Turkish lords, growing up forgetful of that

faith, which became to them as an early, foolish vision; that so many once

happy boys should wear away their lives in bondage beneath that very air

which they had fancied holier than their own. Yet these had all issued

forth in joyous expectation, filled with the hope of heaven. For so it is

always on this earth, that happiness and goodness are really to be derived

for us human beings through the commonest things. Not far away, nor in any

thing which we cannot easily do, but nearer and nearer every day to home,

and what we are concerned with, is the Joy, the Peace which glimmers out

of every living thing. When you hear of God and heaven, you ought not to

think of these as having any meaning separated from direct, unhesitating,

simple life--since God is in every growing leaf about us, no less than in

the sky; and there is a part of heaven revealed in each right action of

this day, in each smile of approval from your parents, and in all

temperate earthly joys. Had these unhappy children continued but at home,

believing like children that what was good for those older than they was

good for themselves also,--looking through their parents at life and

death, the necessities of home would have ever drawn round them a line of

certainty, sufficient even amidst that unfavourable ancient time. But as

it was, they were plunged all at once into a state of complete

helplessness, where yesterday had no connexion with today's work, where

there was nothing to remind them of their former selves, only that their

wish to wander forth to fairer scenes now exchanged for a sick

heart-longing after Home, in which many pined away. However, there was One

of the captive youths at Tunis to whom this Thought of the spot he had so

foolishly left became gradually a sort of nourishment and support, as it

grew more clear and fond. Even after his religious belief, for want of the

due confirmation, had almost died away, or yielded to his Moorish master's

commands, yet the recollection of childish years came in its place,

growing and strengthening the more the longer his captivity endured. In

his master's train did this youth visit first Mecca, which followers of

the Prophet consider holy, and finally also Jerusalem itself. In the

latter place, which, so many years before, he and his companions had

ignorantly set out to reach, he now was struck with painful wonder, both

at all things there, and at himself. Nothing more beautiful or holy was

there here than elsewhere. The fields, the woods, and the hut where he was

born were, in his mind, fairer far than this pale, scattered city, with

its deep, dark valleys of tombs, into which the gray Desert crept. Almost

a scorn of all beliefs flashed upon him as he saw the dusty pilgrims

prostrate around a piece of silent stone in the church of the Sepulchre,

while the turbaned faces of the Moslem sneered behind. Only there still

abode in his heart _one_ deep holy Thought, which seemed alone to contain

many others unknown--the thought of that one place on earth which had been

the source to him of pure feelings, and where he had once been so near to

some different beginning of life. It appeared to him that _it_ indeed was

worthy to make a pilgrimage to, and that, if he could again return

thither, he should from it behold the true opening into things which were

at present to him dead and unintelligible. The last hope of his better

nature had, as it were, passed unnoticed over his head, and now shone far

behind, instead of in the airy future; and thus be remembered how, long

ago, on their childish adventure, he had seen with misgiving the Eastern

morning sun before them renew its splendour over again in the West.

"At last, accordingly, this same wanderer did escape from thraldom, and

come back to his native Germany. On reaching the place where his father's

little hut had stood, by the side of the clear forest stream, which he

remembered well, yet he found it gone, to the very threshold-posts. The

clear stream ran past still under the old tree roots, and the entrance

into the wood was there; but nothing remained of the dwelling whence he

had stolen forth in the early morning to join the children's march, before

its blue smoke had risen up over the forest top against the sky. There

arose within him clearly, as he stood in a bitter trance, every little

circumstance of the household;--what his father and his mother were; the

common and quiet joy, without words, which he knew not till then had been

hidden in sleep, and in meal-times, and in trifling acts; the happiness

which he now felt would have grown daily out of helping them in their

declining years. Yet these had been forsaken for a dream, excited

perchance by evening radiance on the hills, by bright skies seen through

the trees, by distant sounds, the very delight of which was lost when home

was left. He stood close at hand, and, notwithstanding, the whole was more

irrecoverable than ever--the open air came down to the foundations, and

was spread across the chamber floor. The late dead forest was now putting

forth its green buds--the grass was verdant with the spring--flowers were

blossoming in it--birds were singing--and all nature was warmly bursting

up again into full life after winter. The bells of the convent near rang

loudly for the vesper-service, as it was Easter-day, the festival of

Resurrection; and when the wanderer turned round the forest, he beheld

village children rolling on the grass their coloured Paschal eggs. In

these many years the unhappy departure of him and his companions had been

forgotten. All were rejoicing because of some nameless cheer. But at the

door of one cottage there sat an old pair upon a wooden bench, enjoying

the warm evening air, and gazing at the children--while a young maiden,

their daughter, stood behind in the doorway, her fair hair tinged with the

golden light. These good people accosted the wanderer kindly, for they saw

that his features were darkened by hotter suns; and it seemed to them that

perhaps, he was a pilgrim and had been in the East. Their greeting was in

accordance with the custom at that season of Easter, and they said, 'Peace

be with you--Christ is risen,' expecting the usual answer--'Yea, he is

risen indeed.' But the wanderer stared blankly upon them and the young

girl, wondering, in truth, as all the events of his past life came fast

upon his mind, and as he recollected the old feelings with which he had

set out from home. For a deep mystery of Home appeared at that moment to

be revealed to him; he almost understood why it was vain, and had been to

him vain, to seek abroad for that which all the while was nearest of all

things to the soul. Yet, on the other hand, the old people were much

surprised, when he told them that night of his wanderings, how it was that

he who had visited the Sepulchre itself, did not perceive there best that

the Saviour was risen. And it could perhaps only be thoroughly apprehended

by the returned pilgrim himself, when once more there arose for him a home

on the spot where his father's cottage had stood, and when it was shared

with him by that fair young maiden whose countenance had first again

restored to him the conception of life which he had lost. For then it was

that, in the fulfilment of common simple necessities, in unquestioning

intercourse with natural things, and in gradual progress to the holy

grave, he felt truly how the pure and complete hope of happiness proceeds

out of the bosom of human life; how the desire of goodness must be drawn

out of real experience; and how enthusiasm disproportioned to its object

is dangerous and false. It was thus, my children," said the old

schoolmaster, looking round them all in succession, "that one of the

children who sought the Holy Land far off, was taught to seek it near at

hand; and that perhaps many knights and pilgrims of the Crusade may have

found it on their return. And the mistakes of that period are doubtless

capable of their benefit to us.

"It is now with us no longer a formal, but a spiritual system of things;

the heavenly good, the communion of God with man, are no more confined to

particular places and signs, nor, on the other hand, to singular acts and

language. Christ hath made all things, yea, the very commonest, holy to

us and sacramental, if we only strive to apprehend their deep inward

meaning. It is the religion of The Homely,--of Him who as a child in

Bethlehem concerned himself with little household matters as they befell;

and thus prepared himself for being about his Greater Father's business in

the Temple. Duty extends her mighty, solemn chain unbrokenly from the

lowest to the highest: nay, the least insect in the grass performs a

behest that is not to be contemned. This was one chief lesson of The Great

Master's earthly life,--and in his Resurrection from death, also, taught

he his disciples not to limit his presence to any one form of things, but

to look for _it_ in all: when they found the Grave empty, and yet in an

ordinary figure, or in a passenger by the way, they suddenly recognised

their Lord, and He seemed to break out of every thing that was around

them. There is nothing now in itself common or unclean, nothing in itself

that contains a peculiar sacred virtue; but that which is next and nearest

ourselves is capable, by inexpressible degrees, of all good, having been

framed by God Himself. So often we seek far off what would have come to us

and been ours, had we but sat still, waiting, acting with a simple heart.

We mark out to us high deeds, we would fain search out somewhat great and

painful to accomplish,--as if there were not small matters enough, and

pleasant ones,--ay, and the most difficult, toilsome ones too, with their

secret crowns and garlands of reward,--all bounded within the poorest

threshold!--Now, my little youths and maidens, having listened so gravely

to the old man's discourse, go like children and play yourselves homeward:

there, and here you have need of all reverence, obedience, and

thoughtfulness."

Whether or not old Wendel's hearers appreciated the particulars of his

lesson, we are not aware; but from the excitement in the village having

after that taken a decided turn, we may suppose that, on the whole, it was

not without its use there and round about the place. And so, if more

perfectly expressed, and when rightly and fully understood, the doctrine

implied by this and numberless similar facts in human history might be in

many another community.

TAXIDERMY IN ROME

In turning over the voluminous records of our travels abroad, we pause

more particularly at those passages of our journals which relate to the

study of Natural History. In these occur frequent references to agreeable

pedestrian rambles undertaken alone, or in the company of unaffected

friends, in France and Switzerland, Italy and its islands: of whole days

spent, and twilight at last surprising us still bending over the

unexplored treasures of unexhausted museums. Of Paris winters cheerfully

passed in the _enceinte_ of the class-rooms of the Sorbonne; of pleasant

occasions in which our ears refused to take cognisance of the sound of

town clocks and dinner bells, while our eyes were so agreeably forgetting

themselves amid the profusion and variety of southern fish and bird

markets. On this, if on any portion of our by-gone life, we look back with

sadness indeed, but with a sadness unembittered by regrets; our only

sorrow here being, that we knew not earlier in life those studies of which

it may be pre-eminently said, that while they "delight abroad they hinder

not at home." Happy indeed are the children who dream of butterflies, and

wise the parents who encourage theirs to intertwine objects of natural

history with their earliest associations! Not only has this charming study

a strong tendency to confirm the health, to embellish the mind, and to

improve the moral character of those who pursue it;

"Pour le bien savourer, c'est trop peu que des sens;

Il faut une ame pure et des gouts innocens;"

it is likewise a strong bond of union between man and man--where shall we

find such another? Hounds and horses may connect, indeed, a greater

_number_, but if one of the field breaks his neck, who cares? "he should

have been better mounted,"[1] or else, "he could not ride;"--but ours is a

gentler and a kindlier community. Where else exists that unanimity to

which this body may justly lay claim? Not in the professions, where law

detracts, medicine dislikes, and the church does not always hold the truth

in charity; nor yet amidst mankind in general, for philosophers misquote,

scholars revile, merchants monopolise, courtiers traduce, statesmen

deceive: but here no conflicting interests, nor uncharitable surmises, no

morbid sensibility, nor false and narrow views of life, arise to estrange

those whom Linnaeus and Cuvier have once united in fellowship. Constant,

cheerful, unaffected, and sincere, the happy members of our _coterie_,

every where, and in all ranks alike, show an instinctive tact in making

each other out, and once friends continue so for life. We speak from long

and intimate acquaintance with many naturalists: to some, courteous

reader, we purpose, with your consent, hereafter to introduce you. Our

object meanwhile is, to set before you now two humble foreigners of the

gentler sex, who have passed their whole lives in the study and practice

of taxidermy. Real and zealous enthusiasts are Annetta Cadet and her

mother, who, in order to surprise in their haunts, and study before they

embalm them, the various inhabitants of the _Campagna_ about Rome, think

nothing of braving any amount of heat, fatigue, and inconvenience; and

such adepts are they in this art, that when stuffed, their birds, beasts,

and reptiles seem to have received new life at their hands, and to be

about to spring from the ground or to leave their perches, and glide out

of sight. When, therefore, you shall have examined the out-doors[2]

antiquities, (and unless you would reconstruct the Forum for the

thousandth time on some original plan of your own, or were to go

mare's-nest hunting amidst the ruins with certain German _Barbatuli_,--the

Bunsenists of a season--ten days will be more than sufficient,) we charge

you not to fail calling at No. 23, Via della Vite, where, if you should

possess any lurking propensities for natural history, they are sure to be

elicited. As to your first reception, if this should be of a somewhat

abnormal kind, why, so was ours;--for Cadet and her mother are certainly

originals: but that you should not be disconcerted, and in order to

prepare you for the personal appearance, as well as the unusual qualities

of our friends, we transcribe the memorandum of our own introduction to

them. Prince Musignano, whose birds they mounted, professor Metaxa, who

sent rare insects for them to determine, and W----who affirmed, (_par

parenthese_,) that no one could stuff birds like them but himself, had all

proeconised their accomplishments to us; so one morning with a note-book

full of queries, and a bottle full of insects, we descended the

_Scalinata_, and knocked at the door. It was opened by a cord pulled from

above, while a female voice demanded, _more solito_, "_chi c'e?_" On

answering, that our visit was to the _Signore_ who prepared insects, the

_voice_ said, "Come up, go in at the door to the right, and we will join

you as soon as we have made ourselves tidy." Obeying this

Little-red-riding-hood invitation, we entered the reception room, and

began to amuse ourselves with a survey of a score or two of queer-looking

pictures, (for the most part without frames,) with which the walls were

adorned; strange landscapes were there, and allegorical subjects, treated

with an equal perversity. On one that first caught our eye, a waning

moon, resting on the grass with its horns upwards, formed a couch for

Diana and Endymion; from this we had turned to a naked nymph with a pretty

face, and a torso half hidden under a cataract of dishevelled tresses,

"not penitent enough for a Magdalen," thought we, when mother and daughter

entering together, "_Ecco la mia madre_," said the girl pointing to the

picture in question. "_Come?_" asked we, "that your mother?" "Certainly,

it was painted by my own father, six months after their marriage; she was

then as you see, _una bella giovanne assai_." "Was your father, then, a

painter by profession?" "Not originally," interposed the old dame: "he was

designed for a missionary by his patron, who brought him over from his

native country, San Domingo, when a boy; but the old man dying shortly

afterwards, the Propaganda undertook to complete the youth's education

with the same view. As, however, he chose to think that painting, not

preaching, was his calling, and as an attachment had sprung up between us,

and I preferred passing my life with him rather than with Santa Ursula and

her virgins, to whom my friends would have dedicated me, we determined to

take our own case into our own hands, married without asking permission,

and then, to support ourselves, I turned my attention to Taxidermy and he

to the Fine Arts. Thus we managed to subsist till Annetta was nine years

old, when I lost him." "And I," interposed Annetta, "gained a score of old

botany books, and these beautiful paintings; I wonder no one comes to

propose for me." "_E pazza quella ragazza!_" said the mother; and, to

judge by her appearance and attire alone, she might have been so. Her

descent sufficiently accounted for her woolly hair; but in addition to its

negro texture, it was unteazled and neglected, being mixed with bits of

feather and other extraneous elements. She was swathed from head to foot

in coarse soiled dimity; in one hand she was holding a half stuffed hawk,

in the other a sponge, dipped in some arsenical solution to preserve it.

Our eyes had never rested upon so wild, so plain, so apparently hopeless a

slattern; but these unpromising appearances were soon forgotten, and amply

made amends for by the intelligence of her remarks, and the sprightliness

of her conversation; and we know,

"Before such merits all objections fly,

Pritchard's genteel, and Garrick six feet high."

The _officina_ was a curious place, and worthy of its mistress. It was

something between a shambles, a museum, and a tanyard, and exhaled in

consequence the mixed effluvia of decomposing flesh, alcohol, tannin, and

the oil of petroleum. In one corner stood a large tawny dog, stuffed, and

fixed to a board, with a new pair of eyes in his head, and his mouth well

furnished with grinders. "_Era molto vecchio questo cane_," going up to

introduce him to our notice, and patting his back affectionately: "his

sockets have not had such eyes in them for many a day, nor his jaws such

teeth. I have strengthened his legs with wire, and restored the proper

curl to the tail; nothing further is now lacking but some tufts of hair to

cover these bare patches on his haunches, when his master will at once

recognise unaltered the favourite of fourteen years ago." "And whence the

supplies necessary for your purpose?" "From this," replied she, drawing

out from under the table a skin of the same tawny colour, "_Eccola_," and

then pinching off with her tweezers a small tuft from the supplementary

hide, and gumming over with a camel's hair brush, a bare spot, she

proceeded to cover it. "And what's your remedy here?" said we, laying our

hand upon a large duck,[3] whose glossy grass-green neck had lost much of

its plumage, especially at the base, where it is wont to be, encircled

with a cravat of white feathers. "By robbing others of the same family:

for I always think a bird, while he lacks any of his feathers, is looking

reproachfully at me, and if a parrot could find tongue it might say,

''Tis cruel to look ragged now I'm dead;

Annetta, give my tail a little red.'

But here are my stores;" and, touching a spring, the door of a small room

opened, and revealed unstuffed skins of all sorts, dangling from strings

like _Fantoccini_ near the _Sapienza_, at Christmas-time. "Yonder is a

bird, Annetta, that shot across our path yesterday in the villa Borghese;

was he not then a foreigner of distinction escaped from the prince's

aviary?"--"No; a Campagna bird, but rare;" and she proceeded to display

his lapis-lazuli wings, which shone like burnished armour, and were set

off by a brilliant edging of black feathers, as polished as jet, while the

back was a rich dark brown, and the neck and breast light azure. "Oh!

stuff us one of these birds, pray!"--"_Non dubitate_, one shall be on his

perch expecting you when you return to Rome in November."--"And we must

have, too, that beautiful neighbour of his who wears a short silk spencer

over his back and shoulders, and a full-breasted waistcoat of buff."--"The

Alcedo Hispida: he shall be ready too; they call him hereabouts, 'Martin

the Fisher.'"

We took leave for the time, but frequently returned to the workshop. On

one occasion, we asked Cadet how she attained such skill in taxidermy?

"Our art," she replied, "like yours, consists mainly in observation, and

therefore it must needs come slowly. In fact it has taken my mother and

myself fifteen years to learn the natural instincts, habits, and attitudes

of the birds and beasts of the Roman Fauna; every summer we visit their

haunts, and bring back such specimens as we may catch or as the peasants,

who all know us, may bring. Thus, we return, ever richly laden, sometimes

with the carcass of an eagle, or it may be of an African Phenicopterus;

or, failing in such large game, we are tolerably sure of porcupines, fine

snakes, a nest of vipers, specimens of our three several kinds of

tortoises, and different species of land crabs; to say nothing of the

Tarantulas, Scholias, and Hippobosques, which I pin round my bonnet, or

pop into spirits of wine. As to stuffing--the witnessing how some, who

call themselves naturalists, stuff birds, has been long as a beacon to me!

They really seem to forget, that it is one thing to prepare a goose for

the spit, and another to fill his skin for the museum; they cram whatever

they have in hand, as Fuocista Beppo crams a sky-rocket to repletion. Few

take the natural shape as a model for the embalmed body. In such hands,

sparrows become linnets, owls appear to have died of apoplexy, kestril

eyes shine in Civetta's sockets, and the jackdaw has a pupil like the

vulture. Then in grouping, they make _all_ to look straight forward, as

if, when a hawk has swooped upon a teal, his eyes did not turn downwards

in the direction of his victim, or those of the poor teal upwards, in the

direction of the expected blow; _he_ too, should be represented as

striving to extend his neck beyond the drooping screen of the other's

impenetrable wing. Then birds of prey should not perch like barn-door

fowls, nor a parrot divide his toes before and behind unequally; yet some

taxidermists there are, who consider these things _trifles_!" "Well, sir,

what do you think of my daughter's stuffing?" said the old woman. "Why,

that she stuffs beautifully, but the smell of those old hides in the

corner makes me sick." Whereupon they both laughed out at our affectation.

"A doctor, and made sick!" said they, and they laughed again. "Have you

heard of the Brazilian consul's lion?" interrogated the daughter,

endeavouring to make us forget our sickness by exciting our curiosity.

"No; nor even that he had a lion." "Oh, tell the story to the Signor

Dottore, mother!" said the girl; "I can't for laughing." Upon which the

old woman, summoning to her aid a ludicrously solemn look, prefaced the

anecdote by supposing "We must know the Brazilian consul?"--"Not even by

name."--"In that case we were to understand that he was by nature a man of

great tenderness of character, but had once been chafed into an act of

extraordinary ferocity, killing with his own hand, during the last year of

his consulate, (but unfortunately, like Ulysses, without a witness,) a

lordly lion: as there was no embalmer on the spot, he simply flayed his

victim, and preserved the skin with spice till his return last year, when

the wish naturally arose to have the lion mounted after the most approved

models, in order that the dimensions of the body and the respective length

of tusks, tail, and claws, might appear to the best advantage, making it

very evident that this had been a lion that none but Hercules or a

Brazilian consul would have ventured to cope with. On making inquiries for

an accomplished embalmer, our diplomatist unfortunately stumbles upon a

Frenchman--a gentleman of rare accomplishments, as they all are, perfectly

versed, by his own account, in that ancient Egyptian art in all its

branches; this man, on seeing the skin, takes care duly to appreciate the

courage of the consul in killing so immense a beast, whom he promises

forthwith to restore to his pristine dimensions and fierceness of

physiognomy; his adroitness is rewarded by _carte blanche_, to purchase

any amount of spices and cotton he may require, and his _honoraire_ is

fixed at fifty _scudi_ on the completion of the job. Hoping to increase

the family satisfaction by showing them the lion once again on his legs,

without their previously witnessing the steps by which this was to be

effected, he requests that in the interval no one would visit the

workshop." "Mind you make him big enough;" says the Consul, signing the

contract. "_Laissez-moi faire_," rejoins the other. After three weeks'

mystery, the artist sends for his employer, who, speedily obeying the

summons, finds the exhibition-room arranged for a surprise, and the

Frenchman in anticipation of an assured triumph, rubbing his hands before

a curtain, on the other side of which is the object of this visit.

"_Hortense, levez la toile!_" says the Frenchman, giving the word of

command. Hortense does as he is bid; up goes the curtain, and the Consul

beholds his old friend, not only with a new face but with a new body:

whereat, astounded and aghast,--"That's not, _my_ lion, sir," says the

Brazilian. "How, sir, not _your_ lion; whose lion then?--you are

facetious." "_I_ facetious, sir," _roars_ the impatient lion-killer, "and

what should make _me_ facetious?" "I have the honour to tell you, sir,

that this is your lion," says the Frenchman chafing in his turn. "And I

have the _honour_ to tell you, then," reiterated the other, "that you

never _saw_ a lion." When the Consular family assembled, it was worse

still; the children laughed in his face, and the lady said, "that but for

his mane and colour she should not have guessed what animal he

personated." It was a family misfortune. "Why did you trust a _Frenchman_

with it?" asked his affectionate spouse: "you recollect that Alfieri calls

them a nation of Charlatans, whose origin is _mud_,[4] and that all he

ever learned of them was, to be silent when they spoke." "But what's to be

done now?" demands the disconsolate man. "Send for the little women who

understand stuffing, and take their advice." "So we went," continued the

old woman, "and were personally introduced to this lion." "_Ah! che

Leone!_" interrupted the daughter, laughing at the recollection of the

quizzical beast. "A _lion_ indeed!" said the mother laughing, but less

boisterously than her daughter. "What a king of the forest!" said the

girl, going off again into inextinguishable merriment: "mother, do you

remember his eyes sunk in his head as if he had died of a decline, his

chest pinched in to correspond, his belly bulging out like the pouch of an

opossum, with all her family at home, his mouth twisted into a sardonic

grin, his teeth like some old dowager, one row overlapping the other, his

cheeks inflated as if his stomach was in his mouth, and then the position

of one of his fore-legs, evidently copied from that of the old bronze

_horse_ on the Capitol, while his tail wound three times and a half round

its own tip!" "_Basta, basta!_" said the old woman, "he _was_ a queer

lion, and looked easy enough to kill if you could only keep your gravity

while you attacked him." "And what said the Consul?" asked we, laughing

with them. "The Consul _cospettoed_ again and again, and was for knocking

him off his legs at once, and then giving him to us to re-arrange. 'You

and your daughter,' said he, 'will take him home and do what you can for

me;' but we told him plainly, that to expect a new birth, after such a

miscarriage as this, was only to indulge a vain hope, sure to issue in new

disappointment. Why, the very tail would have taken us a fortnight to

uncurl and make a _lion's_ tail of it; the ears were quite past

redemption; the _bustle_ might have been removed from behind, and the

wadding placed in front, where it was wanted; but the hide itself was

corrugated into plaits that nothing could have removed. '_Cospetto!_' said

the Consul, _poveretto_, who had nothing else to say--'and am I thus to

lose my lion, the only lion I ever killed, and such a fine lion too!' and

then he fell to abusing the Frenchman. 'I can't keep him here to show my

friends,' pursued he; 'for it is obvious, if I do, that instead of

admiring my courage, they will only ridicule me, and perhaps betray me

into the hands of that rogue _Pinelli_ as a fit subject for his

caricature.' We could not say they would not; so we recommended him, upon

the whole, as the best thing under the misfortune, to _re_-consult the

French artist. '_Scelarato porco!_ consult him about a lion? why the

commonest daub on a _Trattoria_ sign-board gives a better idea of the

noble animal than this." "It is difficult to stuff a lion," said the girl,

half apologetically: "one cost me a fortnight's hard work to prepare."

"Yes," added the mother eagerly--"yes, but he looked like a lion, he did."

Then turning to us, "Well, sir, at last, as we could not help the Consul,

he was obliged to have recourse to this Frenchman again, who admitted that

the bulk of the animal was in the wrong place, and _une idee trop large_,

and removed some of it accordingly. With respect to the hind-quarters, he

cleverly got rid of this difficulty, by inserting three-quarters of the

noble beast into a den, formed in a recess of the drawing-room, and hung

with a profusion of green paper, representing bushes falling across its

mouth, while beyond them protruded the head and open jaws of the lord of

the forest, as reconnoitring the ground previous to a sally upon the

guests; and there, doubtless, he is still exhibiting.".... Well did Cadet

herself avoid the errors she thus ridiculed. We possess one of her

animated groups, of which the subject is an eagle killing a snake, and the

execution is so true to nature, and so beautifully disposed for effect as

to render improvement impossible: from some such original did the Locrian

and Girgenti mints copy one of their finest reverses, and Virgil and

Ariosto their lively descriptions. Our bird, which lay, a month before, an

unsightly mass of blood-stained feathers, broken-winged, on the ground,

when he came into our possession, _stuffed_, looked not only alive but in

action. The talon which supported the body seemed to grasp the perch

beneath it so tightly, as to convey a very lively impression both of his

prehensile powers and of his weight; round the other, (embracing it as in

a vice,) writhed the body of a large snake; the eagle's neck was erect,

his head slightly bent, his wonderfully expressive eye glancing downwards,

his hooked beak opening and disclosing the tongue slightly raised; the

scant feathers round the olfactory fissures up; the snake hissing, his

head elevated, and darting upwards, to anticipate the lacerating blow:

"_Hic_ sinuosa volumina versat,

Arrectisque horret squammis, et sibilat ore,

Arduus insurgens; _illa_ haud minus urget adunco,

Luctantem rostro."

The delusion as to the substance and weight of the bird was perfect. At

first we doubted being able to lift him without considerable effort. On

making the attempt, however, we find him light as a Nola jar. A glorious

bird is the eagle, well worthy the attention and regard bestowed on him in

ancient times by prophet, priest, and poet; but had they been silent, we

should have learned the veneration in which he was popularly held by the

frequent recurrence of his image--whether incised on Egyptian obelisk,

chiselled by Grecian hands on ornamented casque, guarding the tombs of

heroes, grasping the thunderbolts of colossal Joves, perched on Latin,

standards, carrying off young Ganymedes to wait, _invita Junone_, on the

gods above[5]--or bearing aloft, on consecrated coin, some most religious

and gracious _Augusta_ to Glory and to Olympus!

One day, meeting the elder Cadet in the street returning alone from the

bird-market--a very unusual occurrence, for they generally hunted in

couples--we asked after the daughter, and hearing she was _ammalata

assai_, and wanted one of our little pills to set her to rights, turned in

with the mother, and found the young _naturalista_ reclining on an

ill-stuffed _bergere_, with a large Coluber coiled round her temples, and

a half-prepared Hoopoe in her hand. In the same apartment were a vulture

picking an old shoe to pieces under the belly of an Esquimaux dog, and

some little land-tortoises nibbling away at a large lettuce in the middle

of the floor. Our inquiries were somewhat embarrassed by the unusual

circumstances of our patient, particularly by the presence of the snake,

which now began to untwist. "See! he has recognised his master," said the

dame: "or perhaps has raised his head with a view of taking part in the

consultation." We had seen snakes entwining the lovely brow of Medusa, in

marble, cameo, and intaglio--painted snakes in clusters hissing in the

hair of the Eumenides--but a living snake wound round living temples we

had never seen till to-day. "Come, sir, you are only the _snake_ to

Esculapius; and though I am not ungrateful for what you have done in

refreshing my hot forehead with your cool skin, now the _doctor_ is come,

_bon giorno_!" and, removing him like a turban from her head, she placed

him in a box at her side. This was, then, that Epidaurian Coluber which we

had so frequently seen in marble effigy wound round the consultation cane

of the God of Physic,[6] and not to be viewed by us alive for the first

time without interest. "Mother," said the younger Cadet, brightening up

when she perceived this, "bring our snake-boxes, and let us show them all

to the _dottore_." In less than five minutes the cases were before us. The

first contained a mother blind-worm and her viviparous family of ten

offspring, not two inches long, while she stretched to about twelve. A

Coluber Natrix inhabited the second. "He is a great favourite with

children in Sardinia," said Cadet, "twisting himself round their arms, and

sucking milk from their mouths; but if these supplies fail, he feeds on

frogs and fish. His flesh is a sovereign remedy, say our doctors, in skin

diseases; and they also say--but you know best how true this may be--that

one of the late Dukes of Bavaria became a father by merely eating fowls

that had been fattened on them." A Coluber Austriacus followed--a rare

snake, and chiefly remarkable for his pleasant herbaceous smell, very

unlike what proceeded from a neighbouring box, holding a Coluber

Viperinus, who secretes, when irritated, a yellow fluid of intense

foetor, like the mixed stinks from asafoetida and rotten eggs. The

specimen in this box was large. It had vomited, we were told, two frogs

the day after its capture; and on cutting open another of the same

species, Annetta had seen a living toad creep, Jonas-like, from the

paunch, and make the best of three legs to escape, the fourth being

already disposed of, and digested in the body of the serpent. The solitary

Coluber Atro-virens passed next in review. She gave him a character for

preferring good cheer to the best company, _ex gr._--Out of two taken last

week, one only survived; the other devoured his friend in the night, and

next morning they found his enormously distended body dilated almost to

transparency, and palpitating under the feeble movement of the victim,

doubled up in his inside, but not yet dead. Being very exclusive, some

call him "_il milordo_;" others, from the beauty of his colour, _"il

bello."_ When about to moult, his wonted vivacity changes to moroseness.

Like a mad dog, he will snap at every thing. Perhaps the loss of all his

beauty, which then takes place, may account for such peevishness. A

glaucomatous state of the eye always precedes by some days the moult,

which is accomplished by the skin cracking from the jaws, and afterwards

being reflected over the head and shoulders, till by degrees the snake

skins himself alive, leaving his old investment turned completely inside

out. As gross a feeder as an alderman, he more frequently recovers from a

surfeit, perhaps because, though a glutton, he will not touch wine.

Snakes are not so plentiful about Rome as farther south. Terracina in

particular swarms with them, as did its ancient predecessor _Amycle_,

which was once nearly depopulated by them. Their chief haunt hereabouts is

two miles beyond the Porta Salara, at a place called Serpentina, on the

opposite side of the Tiber, and nearly in front of the embouchure of the

Cremara. At last we come to the family viper box, which perhaps we "would

like to peep into with our gloves on?" "_Per Carita_, no," said we seizing

the naturalista's hand--"on no account--a bite would be no joke!" Cadet

laughed, observing that curiosity should not be baulked by timidity for a

trifle.--"A trifle! had she ever been bitten, then?" "_Come? sicuro ogni

anno._" It was of familiar occurrence: the part would swell, be stiff and

sore for a couple of days, but that was all. Fontana found that it

required four large and very angry vipers to kill a dog--of course it must

require as many to kill a man. As to the Egyptian Queen's death being

caused by a viper's bite, that question having been properly _ventilated_

(ventillata) by Professor Lancisci, might be considered as set at rest.

One viper could not kill one person, much less _three_; and we might

remember that Cleopatra's memorable asp is said to have bitten two maids

of honour, Neaera and Carmione, before it came to her turn, by which time

the poison must have been expended and the viper's tooth dry. "Two

things," added she, "I have noted about vipers; one regards the parturient

viper, and is to the effect that, a prisoner, she never survives her

confinement many days; long before the _quarante jours y compris

l'accouchement_[7] are over, she has ceased to be a mother and a viper.

The other regards her progeny, and is this; that young viperlings come

into the world in full maturity of malice, offering to bite as soon as

their mouths are open, and flying at each other when they have no other

society to attack. We have five varieties in Rome." "Is the viper deaf,

Cadet?" "You should read the experiments of Peter Manni, a great friend of

ours who tames snakes; these will completely satisfy your curiosity on

this point:" and she fetched us the work of Manni, in which he gives

curious account of the influence exercised upon several varieties of the

species by the sound of a pianoforte, and afterwards goes on to relate the

effects produced upon the same serpents by electricity and light. "The

Viper," says he, "was impassive to the second of these agents, suffering a

lighted candle to be brought close to his eyes before he turned away his

head; of the harmless snakes, Coluber Esculapius came up to look at a

lighted torch, but, finding it too strong for him, gnashed his teeth and

bolted; Coluber Elaphis bore the heat of a lighted candle in his mouth

with apparent indifference; but the Coluber Atro-virens flew at it in a

passion, snapping and biting while he struggled to retreat; _he_ also

appeared most distressed under the application of slight electric shocks,

from which indeed all the snakes suffered, and the smaller ones died."

The action of some _poisons_ upon snakes is similar to that on our own

economy. For instance, on administering half a grain of strychnine to a

full-grown Coluber Atro-virens, four minutes elapsed before, any change

was visible. During this period the snake moved in the hand with his usual

vivacity; the flesh then began to grow rigid under the finger; and in half

a minute, the whole body, with the exception of three inches of coil, was

seized with a tetanic spasm--the beautiful imbrication of the scales was

dislocated by the violence of the muscular action, and the sleek round

cylinder of the body was hardened into knots and reduced to half its

former bulk. Reviving for a few seconds, the snake started, opened its

jaws, but immediately afterwards became stiff and motionless except at the

tail, which continued to exhibit feeble contractile action for about

twenty minutes. After death, the body, losing its unnatural rigidity,

became unnaturally supple, seemed without a spine, and might be doubled

upon itself like a ribbon. In two cases which we witnessed of individuals

poisoned by strychnine, similar tetanic phenomena were observed. Corrosive

sublimate and prussic acid do not appear to act on snakes either with such

violence or rapidity as on warm-blooded animals; for a dose of three

grains of the former, and several drops of the latter, (Majendie's,)

remained inactive for a quarter of an hour; then, two grains of arsenic

being added, the snake suddenly raised his head half a foot from the

ground, remained motionless as in a trance, for a minute, then fell back

quite dead. We are not proud of these experiments, nor do we intend to

repeat such; but having been guilty of them, the recital of the results

can do no harm.

What various and even opposite qualities, owing to the supposed

versatility of his character, have been ever attributed to the serpent!

Viewed as fancy dictated, under different phases, men were not content to

ascribe to him their vices only, but must also attribute to him most of

their moral excellencies: wisdom, prudence, vigilance, fortitude and

sobriety were all his; he was symbolical of the divine nature, of

eternity, and of youth. Long before _viper broth_ was used in medicine,

the Coluber was at Hygeia's side by the fountain of health, and was twined

round the stick of Esculapius, at once silent and expeditious in his

motion. Harpocrates favoured, and Mercury the Olympic messenger employed

him as his deputy; though victim on one occasion to the archery of Apollo,

the god of verse found something in his

------ "winding 'bout

Of linked structure long drawn out,"

so akin to poetry, (particularly to the kind called epic,) that he took an

additional cognomen (Pythius) out of compliment to him; whilst Alexander

and Augustus, those worthy descendants of Jove (whom he is said to have

befriended in his amours), stamped his image on their coins, and assumed

it as their crest. So far we behold him in favour both with gods and men:

but opinions vary, applause is inconstant; and accordingly we equally find

him charged with envy, hatred, malice, hypocrisy, ingratitude, cruelty,

and almost every other vice. He is also accused of devastating towns, of

usurping islands,[8] of impeding armies,[9] of destroying priests at the

altar, and it is certain that he lent his name to heresy, and permitted

the great Heresiarch to assume his form in order to beguile Eve.

MATERIALS FOR A HISTORY OF OIL PAINTING.[10]

In the prosecution of an object, it often happens that the means employed

lead unexpectedly to results of immeasurably more importance than the end

originally proposed; and that, while the ostensible end may turn out to be

a failure or of doubtful benefit, some real good, some lasting advantage,

shall be brought out by the exercise of the ability, energy, and

faithfulness of the agents employed.

The mind can scarcely work on given materials without making some

discovery. In this sense did Socrates adopt the line of Hesiod--

"Employ thyself in any thing rather than stand idle."

We are of those who would doubt the advantages proposed by the Commission

of the Fine Arts. If it were likely to lead to a permanent patronage for

_great works_, it would be a boon indeed; but if it be the cause of only a

temporary excitement, holding out a promise which it has no means of

fulfilling, encouraging talent, and making it unprofitable, turning it

from the line in which it is wanted, to that in which it is not likely to

be sought after, the artists will have little reason in the end to be

thankful for the establishing of this Commission. The competition which it

proposes is not altogether wholesome: it is sicklied over from the

beginning with the fear and jealousy of a class. The tried hands of an

academy abstain from a contest which may take away from them the honour

(in the world's eye) which has been exclusively appropriated to them; and

the new aspirants work at too probable a loss, scarcely hoping that their

labours will be adopted or rewarded: while in that absence of a higher

competition, the public, and possibly the Commission itself, expect

inferiority; and if these _great_ pictures, great in dimensions as in

attempt, are not purchased by the public, there can be little hope that

any private dwellings will contain them. If the object be to adorn the

Houses of Parliament with pictures, it would be far better to select from

the painters we have, and give them their work to do, than to raise up a

host of artists, nine-tenths of whom must sink under a hopeless lack of

employment; for there is not a general taste for the particular style

which it is the object of the Commission to promote, nor can there well be

in a country where there are so few public edifices of importance and of

public resort, and so few palaces capable of containing works of great

size. Indeed the art of decoration is with us quite of another character,

and one little adapted for the display of great works. There, is paint in

profusion, and of a dazzling splendour,--we do not mean to speak

slightingly of this architectural adjunct;--but there is little room for

the _sobriety_ of great art; and be it remembered that art, to be great,

must have in it a certain sobriety, awe, and majesty, that does not quite

accord with our style of decoration. We require a kind of furniture

decoration. We doubt if in our Houses of Parliament and palaces, much room

will be spared to what is so facetiously termed "High Art." Nor can we

expect to be always building Houses of Parliament; and, therefore, too

soon the magniloquent patronage must come to an end. Domesticity is the

habit of modern life, (for even our club-houses are of that character, and

assume the appearance of a home;) and, for such habits, easel pictures

will ever have the greatest charm. Nor would it be correct to deny to them

a very scope in the field of art. We doubt if we can recur to any

extensive patronage for frescoes; and their great cost must exclude them

from our churches, which we are more desirous of multiplying than of

ornamenting. Nor can we wonder at this; for, whereas the churches and all

public buildings in Italy, were and are open at all times, and the great

works they contain, are to be seen every day, and at every hour of the

day, with us it is a great thing to have them open once or twice in the

week, for an hour and a half at a time. So that we fear the Commission for

the promotion of the Fine Arts are, as far as we can judge of their

ostensible object, in a labyrinth, from which if they find an exit, they

will not have enlarged their prospect, and will have to congratulate

themselves, at best, on being where they were when they entered it.

We do not here express a doubt as to the advantage of our having a

Commission of the Fine Arts. We only doubt their judgment in the

exclusiveness of their aim, and the largeness of their implied promises.

But if there be a suspicion of failure in the ostensible object, in some

of its working the greatest benefit will have been conferred upon modern

art. A more judicious or more fortunate choice could not have been made,

than that made in the appointment of the Secretary to the Commission. Much

as the world has reason to regret that this appointment has for a long,

too long a period, been a sore let and hinderance to Mr Eastlake in the

practice of his art,--the conscientious view he has taken of the duties of

his office, and his entire faithfulness in discharging them, have led to

results of a most beneficial character,--beneficial to artists, and to the

arts as a perpetuity. His highly valuable work, though with the most

modest title, "Materials for a History of Oil Painting," is the real boon,

and will be the lasting proof of his faithful service. Considering the

sacrifice with which a work of so much labour, thought, and research must

have been achieved, we hope the Commissioners are empowered to reward his

energy, ability, and fidelity, according to their merits, and according to

the sacrifice.

Mr Eastlake, justly judging it to be of the first importance, in whatever

schemes might be entertained for the promotion of the Fine Arts, to secure

to the artist the best materials, and the approved methods of the best

times, and to give him as complete a knowledge of the history of the art

he professes as might be obtained, undertook to search out and examine

records with the greatest care, leaving as little to conjecture as

possible. He could not dictate to the mind, but he might be able to put

means into the hands of genius; the more perfect the instruments, the

greater would be the freedom, and, what is of no small importance, the

more durable would be the works. The first step in this direction was

evidently towards a knowledge of what had been done, and had been

universally admired and approved:--to discover first, if possible, what

was the method and what were the technical means in the hands of Titian

and Correggio, of Rubens and most of the Flemish painters.

Aware of the discussions and disputes concerning the invention of Van

Eyck, he found it necessary to trace the progress of art from its earliest

records to the date of the supposed discoverer of painting in oil--or

rather discoverers, Hubert and John Van Eyck, in 1410. The conclusion to

which the documentary evidence led him was this, that:--

"The technical improvements which Van Eyck introduced were unquestionably

great; but the mere materials employed by him may have differed little, if

at all, from those which had been long familiar. The application of oil

painting to figures, and such other objects as (with rare exceptions) had

before been executed only _in tempera_, was a consequence of an

improvement in the vehicle." "It is apparent, that much has been

attributed to John Van Eyck, which was really the invention of Hubert; and

both may have been indebted to earlier painters for the elements of their

improved process."

The _very_ early use of oil in painting need not here be discussed, though

it was necessary to go into much detail in forming a history of the art,

which was the object of Mr Eastlake. Perhaps, the earliest in our practice

will be found to have been in England, and may have been the legacy of art

bequeathed at the departure of the Romans. It did not commence in Italy.

"The use of resinous solutions combined in various proportions with oil,

as a medium or vehicle for the colours, was an early technical

characteristic of the northern schools, and merits attention here,

accordingly."

It is the opinion of the author of "Materials for a History," &c., that

the Van Eycks did not so much invent as improve; it was therefore most

desirable to ascertain what was previously ready to their hands to be

improved. And as to the improvement, that was perhaps really less than has

been supposed, the application being the novelty. Oleo-resinous varnishes

had before been in use, even from a very early period; but the admixture

of these with the pigments was the great step in advance, and it may be

inferred that the method of rendering these oleo-resinous vehicles

colourless, or nearly so, was the great invention of John Van Eyck.

Drying oil was well known to the ancients, that is before the Christian

era. "Dioscorides, whose works were familiar to medieval writers on

medicine, is supposed to have lived in the age of Augustus. He mentions

two drying oils; walnut-oil and poppy-oil. The principal materials

employed in modern oil painting were at least ready for the artist, and

waited only for a Van Eyck,--in the age of Ludius[11] and the painters of

Pompeii."

We will not attempt further to pursue the history of oil painting to the

time of the Van Eycks; suffice it to say, that a recipe of Theophilus, a

monk of the twelfth century, furnishes materials--an oleo-resinous vehicle

generally used after the time of Van Eyck--and that the improvement by Van

Eyck was the substituting amber for the sandarach of Theophilus. The work

of Theophilus has recently appeared, translated by Mr Hendrie from the

Latin, and forms a very valuable addition to the painter's library, as

well as to that of the curious and scientific, in general. The artist will

find in Mr Hendrie's preface, the information he will be most desirous to

possess. He strongly insists upon amber varnish as being the real vehicle

or discovery of Van Eyck, and lays much stress upon a certain distilled

oil as a diluent. He says:--

"Amber varnish, and probably other thick oil varnishes, would be equally

benefitted, thinned with this distilled oil. It dries without a pellicle

when mixed with colours. Colours used for finishing a picture, such as in

the light for solid painting, or glazing for colour and shadows, are

rendered very pure and without the slightest appearance of a skin,

although it may be plentifully used. It dries much more slowly than any

other distilled oil, and hence its great value, as it allows the artist as

much time as he requires, in order to blend his colours and finish his

work. In conjunction with amber varnish, it forms a vehicle which leaves

nothing to be desired, and which doubtless was the vehicle of Van Eyck,

and in many instances of the Venetian masters, and of Correggio; the

different modes of painting necessarily producing the varied appearances

of the different schools and masters."

This promises the remedy for the disease, as it were, of vehicles, the

not drying from the bottom, which will delight every artist, if he finds

it a practical truth. We confess, we somewhat fear the sanguine

temperament of the translator of Theophilus, and should have preferred

some proof to the bare assertion that the picture by John Bellini, in the

National Gallery, was painted in amber varnish. Nor can we quite trust his

translation of the recipe for making this amber varnish. We were startled

with this account of 1 lb litharge to 1 lb linseed oil and 4 ounces of

amber--is he correct in translating _spigelhors_ litharge? It should be

rosin. With regard to the value of amber varnish, Mr Eastlake quite agrees

with Mr Hendrie. Another important improvement of the Van Eycks was the

substitution of calcined white copperas for litharge. In a note, Mr

Eastlake gives the information that on experiment it has been proved that

oil does not take up any portion of the copperas, which nevertheless

renders it very drying and hard, but that oil does take up sugar of lead.

It should be added, however, that he does not think lead so prejudicial to

colours as some have thought it to be.

The value of Mr Eastlake's book chiefly consists in the documentary

evidence which is now brought to bear upon the question of vehicles; and

doubtless, that which is subsequent to the time of Van Eyck is by far the

most valuable. Evidence is produced not only of oils in use, and the

methods of purifying them, but of varnishes, and recipes for making them,

likewise of the colours used. There is yet, however, much untold with

regard to the Italian practice, concerning which Mr Eastlake proposes to

treat in a second volume. Yet, with regard to the Italian methods, we are

not left without some important knowledge, which, however, must be

considered as offered rather incidentally; for the Italians having

modified, and in some respects much varied the vehicle they derived from

the Flemish masters, their methods were again partially adopted by the

latter; so that the methods of these two great schools of art could not be

kept entirely separate.

To those much acquainted with art, it will be thought of the utmost

importance to obtain any recipes of the time of Rubens and Vandyke. Such

we are in possession of--contained in a manuscript in the British

Museum--of which we may expect the publication entire. It may be

interesting to give some account of this MS. and its author. The

manuscript is entitled "Pictoria, Sculptura, Tinctoria, et quaesub

alternarum artium spectantia, in Lingua Latina, Gallica, Italica,

Germanica conscripta, a Petro Paulo, Rubens, Vandyke, Somers, Greenberry,

Jansen, &c.--Fo. xix. A.D. 1620; T. de Mayerne." Theodore Mayerne, the

author, was born at Geneva, 1573. "He selected the medical profession; and

after studying at Montpelier and Paris, accompanied Henri Duc de Rohan to

Germany and Italy. On his return he opened a school, in which he delivered

lectures to students in surgery and medicine. This proceeding, and the

innovation, as it then appears to have been, of employing mineral

specifics in the healing art, excited a spirit of opposition which led to

a public resolution, emanating from the faculty at Paris, in which his

practice was condemned. His reputation rapidly increased from this period.

He had before been appointed one of the physicians in ordinary to Henry

IV. In 1611, James I. invited him to England, and appointed him his first

physician. De Mayerne enjoyed the same title under Charles I. He died at

Chelsea, leaving a large fortune, 1655."... "Dallaway, in his annotations

on Walpole, after noticing the influence of De Mayerne's medical practice

on the modern pharmacopoeia, remarks that 'his application of chemistry

to the composition of pigments, and which he liberally communicated to the

painters who enjoyed the royal patronage,--to Rubens, Vandyke, and

Pelitot--tended most essentially to the promotion of the art. From his

experiments were discovered the principal colours to be used for

enamelling, and the means of vitrifying them. Rubens painted his portrait;

certainly one of the finest now extant. It originally ornamented the

Arundel collection: was then at Dr Mead's, Lord Besborough's, and is now

(1826) at Cleveland House.'... A monarch who was so fond of painting as

Charles I., was fortunate in having the assistance of a person who

combined a love of art with a scientific knowledge applicable to its

mechanical operations. It is not surprising that such an amateur as De

Mayerne should enjoy the confidence of the first painters of his time; or

that in return for the useful hints which he was sometimes enabled to give

them, they should freely open to him the results of their practical

knowledge. Such communications, registered at the time by an intelligent

observer, threw considerable light on the state of painting at one of its

most brilliant periods, and tend especially to illustrate the habits of

the Flemish and Dutch schools."

De Mayerne records the use of sand in purifying oils, as a communication

from Mytens, painter to Charles I., _before the arrival of Vandyke_.

"Coming from such a source," says Mr Eastlake, "it may be classed among

the processes which were familiar to the Flemish and Dutch painters."

The works of the Flemish and Dutch painters are undoubtedly those which

the artists of the present day would desire to be the tests of vehicles

and of colours. They can scarcely have, therefore, a more valuable

document than this manuscript of De Mayerne, the friend of Vandyke. From

this source there is much information with regard to colours. It has

always been supposed that Rubens in particular was lavish in the use of

Naples yellow. It was largely used by the Italian painters; but it is

omitted in the list of colours of the Dutch and Flemish. Many yellows,

which in oil alone will not stand, are, it seems, durable if protected by

an oleo-resinous medium. After enumerating many other yellows, Mr Eastlake

remarks--"There was, however, one substance, viz. gamboge, now

undeservedly fallen into disuse in oil painting, which is superior to

most, if not to all, of those above named; the colouring matter united

with its resinous portion, which renders it more durable in oil painting,

may be easily freed from mere gum. De Mayerne, it would seem on good

grounds, pronounces in its favour; and his speculations respecting the

best mode of using it are confirmed by modern authorities. Gamboge, he

observes, furnishes a beautiful yellow, constant, unfading, and that works

freely."

We are not surprised to see another pigment commended; we have long used

it, but believe it is unknown as a colour by the artists of the present

day, though, we suspect, sold by colour-makers for common work as a cheap

brown. It is common coal. De Mayerne says, "The shadows of flesh are well

rendered by pit-coal, which should not be burned." It is also recommended

by Van Mander, and by Norgate, "whose directions for oil painting

correspond in all outward particulars with the Flemish methods." In some

experiments recorded by Sir Joshua Reynolds--there are the words "Gamboge

and oil--but no colour remains;" yet it should be observed that where it

is protected it is most durable. We believe the Aloes Cavallino, spoken of

in terms of commendation by Leonardo da Vinci, to be an excellent

transparent colour--and well calculated to give great richness to browns

and to greens. It is certainly very interesting to know the colours

actually used by the best masters of bye-gone days,--but we must not

forget that modern science may greatly have improved many, and produced

others, and has surer grounds to pronounce on their permanency. Mr Field,

in his Chromatography, has rendered a very great service to art.

It is not only the varnish, or rather the gums which compose the

varnishes, that should be considered with great attention, in reviewing

this subject,--but the great stress which seems to have been universally

laid upon the necessity of purifying the oils. And this necessity is

insisted upon from the earliest times. Even after all the precaution and

pains taken to purify oils, there will be a tendency to turn yellow upon

the surface. Rubens, in a letter, speaks of this, and gives orders for his

pictures, which were packed freshly painted, to be exposed to the sun. And

this practice of exposure to the sun seems to have been adopted generally

in Italy, as well as elsewhere, not only for the purpose of drying the

paint more readily, but for the freeing the surface from the yellowing of

the oil, the deleterious portion of which is thus taken up by the

atmosphere and the heat of the sun.

We have unhesitatingly exposed the surfaces of freshly painted pictures

not only to the sun, but to all weathers,--and that not for a few hours

but for weeks--and always with advantage. There is another method also

which will be found equally beneficial. When the surface is greasy, and

will not take water from the sponge, it may be truly conjectured that this

deleterious quality of the oil has exuded. We always remove it by sand and

water--the coarser the sand the better; the finer, being more silicious,

is more likely to cut. But we must observe that even though the picture be

not fairly dry, excepting under very rough usage, the paint will not be at

all removed. Even after this cleansing, the oil will still, for a

considerable time, throw up this greasy product. We remove it, therefore,

again and again until, after a week or ten days' trial, we find the

surface free from grease; and we are strongly inclined to think the

colours undergo no change when this clearance has been once well effected.

In a letter from Mrs Merrifield, she strongly recommends this exposure of

pictures to the sun and atmosphere; and says it was universally practised.

This should not, however, prevent the previous purification of the oils;

for there is no writer upon the subject that does not insist upon this. Mr

Eastlake's book furnishes recipes of all ages. Frequent washings with

water, to which a little salt is added, and fine sand to take down the

impurities of the oil, may be safely recommended. In describing the

process taught by the Gesuate, friends of Perugino, the Padre Gesuato

adds, "Observe, that wherever you find oil mentioned, this purified oil is

meant."

It would appear that the pigments were, formerly as now, ground only in

oil: the vernix was added to the colour, by drops, when on the palette; so

that, should the new, or recovered old vehicles, if such they be, come

into general use, it will not be necessary to discard the supply of oil

colours from the shops of our colour-makers. The colours in tubes, which

happily have superseded the bladders, will still be in general request.

Northcote thought it a great advantage to the old Italian masters that

they were under the necessity of making most of their colours themselves.

This, certainly, was not the case in the earlier times; for the monks, who

were every thing--physicians, painters, chemists, &c.--were not only the

patrons and dealers, but were makers of the colours also. We cannot quite

agree with Northcote. The only objection we have to offer to the present

system of tube colours is as regards their cost; for, considering the

value of the materials, the cost of putting them up seems very exorbitant.

This is of little consequence, indeed, in painting easel pictures of no

great size; but if we are to proceed on the large scale, which the

Commission for the Fine Arts encourages, it would become a matter of some

consideration. It has been supposed that the first colour-shop in London

was set up by a servant of Sir Godfrey Kneller's; but there is reason to

believe, from some incidental remarks, that the trade existed in De

Mayerne's time. Some painters of great eminence had their favourite

colour-makers, employed, probably, by themselves exclusively. In a letter,

Titian regrets the death of the man who prepared his white,--and De

Mayerne says of Vandyke, "He spoke to me of all exquisite white, compared

with which the finest whitelead appears gray, which he says is known to M.

Rubens. Also of a man who dissolved amber without carbonising it, so that

the solution was pale yellow, transparent." We learn from this that there

were then colour-makers and varnish-makers, and also that the brilliant

white of Rubens may not always have been whitelead.

There seems to have been in the fourteenth century a kind of painting

practised in England which much attracted the notice of foreigners. It was

of water-colours on cloth--"on closely woven linen saturated with gum

water. This, when dry, is stretched on the floor over coarse woollen

frieze cloths; and the artists, walking over the linen with clean feet,

proceed to design and colour historical figures and other subjects. And

because the linen is laid quite flat on the woollen cloths, the

water-colours do not flow and spread, but remain where they are placed,

the moisture sinking through into the woollen cloths underneath, which

absorb it. In like manner, the outlines of the brush remain defined, for

the gum in the linen prevents the spreading of such lines. Yet, after this

linen is painted, its thinness is no more obscured than if it was not

painted at all, as the colours have no body." This does not at all

resemble the kind of tempera painting in use in Flanders to imitate

tapestry; for it is noticed as peculiar to England by a native of

Flanders. May not this method be again, with some advantage, restored for

the getting in the subjects of large pictures? The cloth so painted might

easily be put on other cloth prepared with a ground.

The subject of grounds is not omitted: it is one of importance; and the

artist will do well to study Mr Eastlake's book, if he would have a ground

that might suit his after-work. All grounds made with glues are bad--they

not only crack, but change the colours. M. Merimee accurately examined the

grounds of some of Titian's pictures--and found starch and paste. It is

supposed that grounds in which red-lead and umber have been used darken

all the pigments.

The Venetians usually preferred painting on cloth, and not unfrequently

chose the finest. There was a canvass used in Italy, and chiefly by the

Bolognese school, which gives much richness, its peculiar texture being

seen even through tolerably thick paint--the threads are in squares, and

rather coarse. We are surprised that such is not to be met with in our

shops. We have often endeavoured to obtain it without success. On canvass

of this kind some painters, and among them Guercino, contrived greatly to

raise the lights--so that as seen side-ways they appear to bulge. We are

not aware how this was done.

We take some credit to ourselves for having in the pages of Maga, so long

ago as June 1839--promoted an inquiry into the nature of the vehicles used

by the old masters. And this we did, knowing that we should incur some

odium and contemptuous disapprobation at the hands of artists, too many of

whom were jealous of any supposed superiority in their great predecessors,

and were generally satisfied with the meguilp, (mastic varnish, beat up

with drying oil,) which had, nevertheless, been proved so deceitful from

the first days of its adoption. The readiness with which it was made, the

facility of working which it offered, and its immediate brilliancy, were

temptations too great to be resisted. The too common use of this vehicle,

we confess, led us too far in a contrary direction--to set ourselves

against all varnishes whatever; and we laid, perhaps, too much stress upon

the authority of Tingry, who speaks strongly against the admixture[12] of

varnishes with oil; and, with this bias, we reviewed, in Maga, M.

Merimee's work, in which, certainly with mistranslations of the Latin of

Theophilus, as well as of Italian quotations, he insisted upon the use

principally of copal, though without any distrust of mastic.