The next scene of primitive life in the Black Forest is the doom of

the adulteress, a wretched, guilty woman being driven naked through

the “hundred,” pursued by all the free-women, each armed with long

whips and small knives. This was the common punishment decreed for

such offences. A human sacrifice to the gods of Walhalla is also

portrayed in vivid colors: the Chatti immolate a slave and two oxen as

a propitiatory offering before their foray against the Suevi; and one

more example of German manners and customs is afforded by the funeral

of Hermanric, Bissula’s brother, whom the Billing Katuwald has slain

with an arrow. This is gorgeously described: the car, drawn by six

horses, contained the corpse and was adorned with endless plate,

jewels, rare stuffs, and articles of Roman workmanship of great value;

the horses’ heads were wreathed in oak and ash garlands; three fully

caparisoned horses and eight gorgeously-arrayed slaves, the special

servants and companions of the deceased, followed the car and were

destined to be struck dead and burned with their master. Marcomir, the

umpire, pronounced a funeral oration, and the priest’s deputy had

lifted the sacred hammer to kill the first slave, when a strange

whirlwind began to shake the forest around the funeral pile. Trees

were uprooted, the wind tore and howled through the branches, thunder

and lightning added their terrors, and the Suevi stood rooted to the

ground in awe and amazement. St. Martin is seen in the distance

advancing towards them at a miraculously quick pace, and as he comes

nearer the storm-cloud is just seen passing away, while the sun breaks

forth again. The cry of “The sorcerer!” is raised, but Buffalo cries

out, “He is no sorcerer, but a holy man,” and, breathless, they all

watch the saint.

Here the author again draws on Sulpicius Severus for a signal

miracle—nothing short of a raising from the dead. St. Martin commands

the dead Hermanric to arise and live; the youth starts up and clings

to the saint’s mantle, while the bystanders are dumb with fear and

awe. He comes forth, and, mounting one of his horses, seats his

deliverer on another and rides away with him, bidding his sister

believe in the almighty and only God of the Christians, and telling

his slaves that as they were to have followed him into Walhalla, so he

expects them the next day at the saint’s abode, to follow him in the

new way of life he has at last discovered. The end is easy to see:

Bissula becomes a Christian, renounces her hatred against the Billing,

and receives baptism with hundreds of her relations and slaves, to all

the latter of whom she and her brother give their freedom and certain

necessary possessions—in fact, almost portioning out their estate

between them. Bissula then marries Withimer, and they spend their

lives in trying to spread the light of the Gospel among their

fellow-countrymen, while Hermanric follows St. Martin and becomes a

monk in one of the first Frankish monasteries.

Among the most natural characters in the book are Eustace and Buffalo,

who delight the reader with their various shrewd sayings and their

dog-like fidelity to St. Martin. One or two curious facts have an

incidental place in the story; for instance, the derivation of the

modern German word for grandson—_Enkel_—vouched for by Simrock, and

which is a survival of the old custom of reckoning the two nearest

degrees of relationship by the two joints of the leg; the knee

signifying the _son_, and the ankle the _grandson_.

A very good point is also made in Withimer’s spiritual probation, his

penance in the cave with St. Martin, and his meekly submitting, after

a terrible struggle with his own pride and passions, to receive a

scourging from the saint, and to cut off his golden, flowing hair, the

outward badge of his sovereignty. His victory over himself and his

true humility are very beautiful. In the baptism scene it is

interesting to be reminded of the old formula of the questions

addressed to the catechumens, of which the following are specimens:

“_Forsachis [renouncest] tu diabolæ? … End ec [and I] for sacho allum

diaboles workum [works] en wordum [words] Thunaer ende woten ende

[and] allein them unholdum [unclean] the ira genotes [companions]

sint.… Gelobis tu [believest thou] in got alamehtigan [Almighty]

Fadaer [Father]?_”

We meant to have spoken more at length of the mythology of the

Teutonic races, but have no space for the subject. The authorities

Bolanden has followed are Tacitus, Grimm, and Arnkiel. Concerning

history, manners, and customs he quotes Julius Cæsar, Tacitus,

Procopius, Strabo, Pliny, Schmidt, Simrock, Wirth, Heber, Cantù,

Ozanam, and Arnkiel. For the traditions of St. Martin’s life Sulpicius

Severus, his deacon, friend, and biographer, is the authority. We

should like to give an example of the poetry of the ancient Germans;

but as the _Nibelungenlied_ is accessible to every scholar and widely

known even to the ordinary reading public, no specimen of inferior

war-hymns would be worth drawing attention to. We will conclude by a

beautiful description of the simplicity and humble appearance of a

holy bishop of the fourth century, Justinus of Strassburg, and who, as

well as St. Martin, had a high opinion of the grand “raw material,”

ready to the hand of Christian workers, in the brave, truthful, loyal,

hospitable, even if cruel and uncivilized, Germans of the “forest

primeval.” Bolanden says: “The simplicity of the bishop reminded one

of the apostolic age. He bore no outward sign of his high rank, and

his only garments were two tunics of white wool, one long with long

sleeves, and another, sleeveless and short, over it, while over all

hung a cloak of Roman make. His feet were shod with sandals. His black

beard hung low over his breast, while a ring of whitening hair

encircled his bald head. His features were thin, as if with fasting

and mortification, his glance calm, and his demeanor humble; while his

hands, used to toil, were extraordinarily strong, for he followed the

example of St. Paul, who refused to be a burden upon any one.… For

precisely the most pious and holy of the bishops of the Frankish

country gave themselves to manual labor, to give a good example to the

Franks, who shrank from work as from a shameful occupation,… and this,

too, by no means to the prejudice of the vineyard of the Lord. On the

contrary, those self-denying men, indifferent to life, seeking no

earthly honors or distinctions, thinking only of the service of God,

were the pillars of the church and the most fruitful signs of her

progress. Neither did they acknowledge the golden fetters of kings,

which hinder the working of Christ’s messengers. They were free in

their sacred ministry, and God’s protection accompanied them in their

hallowed work.”

Bolanden’s book has, of course, an _arrière-pensée_, which is so

evident through the story that it rather spoils the mere literary

value of the book, as “a purpose” more or less cramps any literary

production. But, as a clever contemporary says, “In the hot

theological controversies of the present day it is hard to treat any

subject, even remotely connected with ecclesiastical history, without

betraying a ‘tendency.’” Bolanden is outspoken enough as to his, which

has for object the present Prussian laws against religious freedom.

But we think we may safely say that the first book of the series will

be the most original and interesting, illustrating as it does a period

so little known and not yet become, like the middle ages, the

hackneyed theme of every novelist, from first to fifth rate, of every

civilized and literary European nationality.

[22] Conrad von Bolanden, a brief sketch of whose life has

already appeared in these pages, requires no

introduction to the readers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD, who

will know him best as the author of _The

Progressionists_, _Angela_, _The Trowel or the Cross_,

etc.

[23] This reminds one of the Aztec war-god Quatzacoatl.

[24] _Les Martyrs_, Châteaubriand.

[25] Tacitus, _Germania_.

SACERDOS ALTER CHRISTUS.[26]

The priest, “another Christ” is he,

And plights the church his marriage-vows;

Thenceforth in every soul to see

A daughter, sister, spouse.

Then let him wear the triple cord

Of father’s, brother’s, husband’s care;

In this partaking with his Lord

What angels cannot share.

O sweet new love! O strong new wine!

O taste of Pentecostal fire!

Inebriate me, draught divine,

With Calvary’s desire!

“I thirst!” He cried. The dregs were drained:

But still “I thirst!” his dying cry.

While one ungarnered soul remained,

The cup too soon was dry.

And shall not _I_ be crucified?

What though the fiends, when all is done,

Make darkness round me, and deride

That not a soul is won?

God reaps from very loss a gain,

And darkness here is light above.

Nor ever did and died in vain

Who did and died for love.

1871

[26] St. Bernard.

LABOR IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.[27]

There was a time, not far distant, when men thought they had found in

the United States of America the sovereignty of labor. It was the

boast of its people that there were no American paupers. The working

classes looked with something like contempt upon the condition of

their fellow-laborers in Europe. Here was the land where every man’s

independence rested in his own hands and his willingness to labor. No

day should come when an honest day’s work would not earn, not bread

alone, but a home—an American home. This was the time when the

followers of Boone were disclosing to wondering eyes the virgin

richness of the Ohio and Mississippi valleys; when, later, adventurous

spirits led the way over the Rocky Mountains to a new western empire;

when, close succeeding, California opened its Aladdin’s caves, not to

the lash of kings or tyrants over toiling slaves, but to the picks and

pans of free labor. Yes, here at last was found what the poets and

philosophers of Greece and Rome had only dreamed of—the ideal

commonwealth, a golden age. Thus had a free republic, established in

the richest and grandest territory the sun shone on, conquered at last

the problem of ages, and labor stood the peer of capital—nay, aspired

to be its master. It was claimed not only that a particular form of

government had achieved those economic results, but that it was

capable of maintaining them indefinitely. Politics bade defiance to

political economy.

Is this state of things true of to-day? In part, yes, it may be

answered. Looking at the comparative independence and comfort of the

great masses of the working classes of this country, noting that

intelligent zeal for personal liberty which pervades them, much reason

for congratulation still remains. But the pressure of those social

conditions affecting labor in other countries is beginning to be

seriously felt. The reserve forces of capital are coming up. The

“salad days” of the nation are over. It has grown to manhood, and,

growing thus, has met the harsh experiences inseparable from national

as from individual life. It begins to feel the burdens of maturity,

and to be harassed by its anxieties. Labor has met war, its wild

fever, its deadly collapse; labor has met debt, the second and

costlier price of war, sucking out the life-blood after the wounds of

battle have been stanched; and, lastly, labor has met capital, which,

like one of those genii described in the Arabian tales, rises

portentous to its full strength and stature out of the smoke of war

and the shadow of debt. These two forces, labor and capital—which, to

borrow an image from the ancient myths, Ἀνάγκη or _Necessitas_ seems

to have linked together in iron bonds—mutually hostile yet inseparable

co-laborers in the work of human progress, are preparing to try their

strength in the New World as they have done in the Old. The first

murmurs of that contest which it was deemed republican institutions

could for ever avert are plainly heard. Daily observation shows that

the laws governing the accumulation of wealth elsewhere—increase

stimulating increase in a geometrical ratio—are not suspended here.

“The rich are growing richer, the poor poorer.” Any of the great daily

newspapers need only to be looked at from week to week and month to

month to find the growing record of strikes, the agitation of labor,

the increase of pauperism. The glory of the country, its greatest

source of prosperity, has had in it an element of weakness. That rich

and wide domain, which invited immigration, postponed, but has not

been able eventually to stay, the aggregation of surplus

labor—especially on the two seaboards—which everywhere becomes the

bond-slave of capital, and fights its battles against free labor. In a

word, politics, the barriers of merely political _pronunciamientos_,

have yielded in the United States, as elsewhere, to those primal laws

of supply and demand which govern the wages of labor. We are

assimilating to the economic conditions of Europe. A revolution has

taken place during the course of the last quarter of a century in the

industrial features of this country. The flux and reflux both of labor

and capital between America and Europe are instant and inevitable.

Henceforward the contest between them will be fought out on the old

conditions, little or not at all affected by political or—what is the

same thing—sentimental considerations. Here, then, is a problem for

the statesmen of this age widely differing from that which engaged the

attention of the fathers of the Constitution, yet like it in this:

that the successful solution of each aims at the amelioration of the

condition of mankind. One was political; the other is, and will be,

social, and may be regarded as a sequel to, and complement of, the

first.

Must we sink into the old ruts along which labor has slowly and

painfully dragged its burdens for ages in Europe? Is there no help for

this Sisyphus? Must the stone roll down the hill again, after having

mounted so near the top? Or is it possible that the light which the

founders of this republic set up as a beacon for the political

regeneration of mankind one hundred years ago may be rekindled in the

same land in a succeeding age to lead the way to the regeneration of

labor? It is a task for the highest, the most Christian, the most

Catholic statesmanship. The church, faithful to its great _rôle_ of

emancipator or manumitter, which it took up, in advance of the age, in

the darkest eclipse of the declension of the Roman Empire, and has

never since abandoned, will be found again in the van of this

movement. Labor and capital, which, left to themselves, would rend

each other, may find in its arbitrament a truce—peace—harmonious

working.

Is the hope that this republic shall be the first to utter to Europe

and the world some grand maxims in social economy, as one hundred

years ago it did in politics, chimerical? By its realization we shall

be able to avert from this country the atheistic commune which is

threatening to ravage Europe, or to meet it and defeat it should it

come.

Wise action must be the result of good information. Such a work,

therefore, as this of Dr. Young’s on _Labor in Europe and America_ is

a valuable auxiliary to those who like to know what they have to deal

with before moving in any matter. It is a bulky volume of over eight

hundred pages octavo of closely-printed matter; but it is not so

appalling as it looks, the number of countries surveyed and the

diversity of the conditions of labor presented making it interesting

even to the general reader. Dr. Young’s position as chief of the

United States Bureau of Statistics has given him exceptional

advantages and facilities for obtaining information in the preparation

of such a work, and it is fair to say that he appears to have availed

himself of them with great industry and ability. It is, in fact, the

work of a specialist who is devoted to his subject, and is therefore

_primâ facie_ worthy of attentive consideration. Nor does it fail in

great part to make good its pretensions. Yet it has all the faults of

the current works of the infant science of statistics. It jams

everything into columns of tabular statements, and seeks to draw

infallible averages and wide-sweeping deductions from them which

cannot be always sustained on closer scrutiny. Observation is

everywhere too limited, the conditions of society and of individual

existence and labor too minutely diversified and shifting, to be toted

up like a sum in addition by a calculating machine. Were we to listen

to the statisticians, however, we would displace the Pope and put them

in his chair. They would feel quite at ease there, and the

infallibility they shake their heads at in Pio Nono would fit them to

a charm. Like the jailer in _Monte Christo_, they would blot out all

individuality and number every one and everything 1, 2, 3. But man is

too stubbornly self-willed ever to be made the term of an equation.

How different, how inferior, such a work as this, for instance, of Dr.

Young’s—comprehensive and well digested as it truly is—to any one of

his great namesake’s in the last century, Arthur Young, who, more

justly than M. Adolphe Quetelet, deserves the title of the “father of

modern statistics.” One is like the Turkey carpet that Macaulay speaks

of in his criticism on Montgomery, which contains indeed all the

colors that are to be found in a masterpiece of painting, but is fit

only for its own uses; the other is a picture instinct with life. The

old method of personal, detailed, and necessarily limited observation,

while it excelled in picturesqueness, gave at the same time solid,

accurate, special information which the hasty generalizations of the

present day too often miss. The latter confuse the mind by their

immense array of figures.

Again, Dr. Young has given, we think, a disproportionate share of

attention to Europe, Asia, and even Africa—occupying in all over seven

hundred pages with his account of labor in those countries, while he

handles the subject in the United States and Canada in just one

hundred pages. His explanation is that his work is intended chiefly

for circulation in the United States, but this explanation is

unsatisfactory. His long introductory history of labor from the

remotest times, compiled, as it plainly is, from the works of European

scholars within everybody’s reach, and his view, chiefly at second

hand, from the reports of American consuls, of the state of labor in

Europe, are manifestly inferior, both in interest and authority, to

the copious original works of the statisticians of particular foreign

countries; while his history of American labor and presentation of its

existing conditions, which ought to have given its real value to his

work, are extremely meagre and superficial. His own tour through the

manufacturing centres of England and the Continent appears from his

statements to have been of too flying a nature to yield any very

authoritative results. But we wish it to be distinctly understood that

while the plan of Dr. Young’s work, and, in some respects, its

execution, appear to us defective, we are by no means disposed to

undervalue the great utility of what he has accomplished in thus

presenting to the American reader in compact form a survey of the

history of labor down to our own times. It is only from a study of the

subject in its widest aspects that an intelligent comprehension of the

factors of the problems before us in America can be arrived at.

Dr. Young begins by a review of the origin of slavery and gradual

development of wage labor, following its thread through the rise and

decline of the ancient empires of Egypt, Greece, and Rome. The

conquest and carrying off of alien races for the uses of manual labor,

while their conquerors followed the profession of arms, was the most

fruitful source of slavery in ancient times. This species of slavery

is still found in Africa. It was long ago extinguished in Europe. It

was crippled in America by the suppression of the slave trade, and has

finally disappeared in the United States by the emancipation of the

negro race. On the other hand, we have never had in this country the

predial slavery which is bound to the soil and digs the ground it

originally sprang from, of which the last great example is vanishing

from Russia under the benignant edicts of Alexander II. But there is

no doubt that that form would have developed itself in the United

States from negro slavery if the distinction of color could have been

annihilated. It was already tending in that direction when the war

intervened.

We must pass over Dr. Young’s account of labor under the feudal

system, but we cannot help noting the prejudice he seems to share with

the vulgar against the monks. To read his pages, one would necessarily

be led to infer that the clergy were among the worst oppressors of the

poor; that they ground their unhappy serfs, and were the allies of the

nobles and military commanders in keeping down the working classes.

That all this _farrago_ of calumny is directly the reverse of the

truth is now so universally admitted by students of those ages that it

is needless to enter into the question, nor would our space permit us

to do so. It will suffice to quote Hallam, who, while opposed to the

principles upon which monasteries are founded, calls those of the

middle ages “green spots in the wilderness where the feeble and the

persecuted could find refuge.”[28] And again, speaking of the

devastation of immense tracts by war, he says: “We owe the

agricultural restoration of the great part of Europe to the

monks.”[29] It is singular that such testimony is omitted by Dr.

Young. It would be still more singular if it had escaped his

observation. His admissions are as ridiculous as his omissions. In a

foot-note of a single line, which is lost in the midst of two chapters

on the subject, he says: “It is admitted that the abbots were most

indulgent landlords.” This is as if a writer on the woollen

manufacture of the present day should devote a hundred pages to the

knitting-needles of the old women in our country towns, and inform his

readers in a one-line footnote: “Steam machinery was also used in this

age in the manufacture of woollens.” The monastery was as

distinctively the economic feature of the civilization of the middle

ages as the steam-engine is of our times. Each played the same part in

its development. It is just as easy to be blind to one as to the

other.

Passing over the period included between Elizabeth and George III.,

and the early days of what Dr. Young aptly terms the “era of

machinery,” we come down to the consideration of the organization and

prices of labor, the rates of wages and cost of subsistence, and the

habits of the working classes in England at the present day. These are

fruitful themes, and are treated of in detail. We will endeavor to

present a few items of comparison, from the statistics given in

connection with them, with those afforded later in the case of the

United States.

What we have said about the change that has taken place in the

conditions of labor in the United States is shown by Dr. Young’s

account of the trades-unions of the United Kingdom. Instead of, as

formerly, maintaining their position on a totally different and higher

plane than European workmen, American mechanics now take the law, in

many cases, from English organizations. For instance, the “Amalgamated

Society of Engineers,” a union including machinists, millwrights,

smiths, and pattern-makers, and numbering at the close of 1874 about

45,000 members, had 30 branches in the United States at the end of

1873, with an aggregate membership of 1,405. These branches were

spread over every manufacturing city of the first or second class in

the Union. Five branches were established in Canada. Some idea of the

power of such a society, apart from its mere roll of membership, may

be gathered from its annual statements of the account of its

accumulated fund. Its balance on hand at the close of 1873 amounted to

£200,923 1s. 6¾d. Its expenditure during the same year amounted to

£67,199 17s., 5½d., including such items as telegrams, banking

expenses, delegations, grants to other trades, parliamentary

committees, gas-stokers defence fund—disclosing, in fact, all the

incidents of a powerful and active organization.

The “Amalgamated Society of Carpenters and Joiners” has 265 branches,

14 of which are in the United States. The membership, however, appears

to be small in this country, numbering only 445 men. The governmental

organization of societies of this class is very elaborate and

centralizing in character. Monthly reports are received from all the

branches, including those in the United States. For instance, the

monthly reports of the Amalgamated Carpenters’ Society for January,

1875, from the United States, represent the state of trade as “bad,”

“dull,” or “slack,” with the exception of San Francisco, where it is

reported “good,” and Newark as “improving.” Although no data are here

given, it is not to be doubted that this system of reports will be, or

has already been, extended to such organizations as the “Miners’

National Association,” numbering 140,000, and the National

Agricultural Laborers’ Union, numbering 60,000, thus seriously

affecting the immigration not only of skilled but of agricultural

labor. In fact, we are already aware that personal reports have been

made by Joseph Arch and others, some of them not favorable. The

formidable character of the trades-unions of Great Britain is seen by

the mere statement of their aggregate membership, which Dr. Young

estimates, with all deductions, at 800,000 in January, 1875.

The question of strikes in England is too large a one to be entered

into here. Dr. Young gives a brief history of the great Preston strike

of 1836, of the Nottingham, the Staffordshire Colliery, the Pottery,

and the Yorkshire strikes, all of which proved unsuccessful after

terrible suffering on the part of the workmen and great loss on both

sides had been endured. A short account is also given of the

unsuccessful “Amalgamated Engineers’” strike of 1851-52, and the

protracted engineers’ strike on the Tyne, 1871-72, for the nine hours’

system, which resulted in a compromise. Experience has demonstrated of

strikes, 1st, that they are usually unsuccessful; 2d, that they lessen

the employer’s ability to maintain even the wages paid before the

strike, by giving an advantage to his competitor in other countries

which he cannot always recover; 3d, that where they are fought out to

the end they cause suffering and develop disease in the weak, and in

women and children, which no wages can pay for or cure; 4th, that they

deteriorate the character of the men engaged in them by promoting a

feeling of lawlessness and desire for stimulation even among the best

disposed; 5th, that, even if successful, there is a greater dead loss

in money spent than is recouped by the advance gained in wages. These

conclusions are now beginning to be so well understood in

England—where, from more perfect organization, strikes are larger and

cost more to both parties than in the United States—that the chairman

of the Trades-Union Congress of the United Kingdom, held at Liverpool

in January, 1875, in his opening address referred to strikes as a mode

of settling differences with employers which ought to be avoided by

all practicable means, and resorted to only in the most extreme

cases—an opinion afterwards embodied in a resolution which was adopted

by the Congress. The principle of arbitration has already been tried

successfully in several important instances.

Dr. Young illustrates the rates of wages in the United Kingdom by

tables. He accompanies the tables with the explanation that “in a very

large number of occupations the hands are paid by the piece or by

weight, and the actual rate of wages would not indicate the sum an

operative would take home with him at the end of the week as the price

of his labor. The sums stated in all these tables are therefore the

average sums earned per week, whether the labor be paid by the day or

the piece.” The same explanation holds good for the United States. Of

these tabular statements our space will only permit us to give two or

three, to which we shall subjoin the rates of wages in the United

States in the same occupations by way of comparison. The British pound

sterling is computed at $4 84, and the shilling at 24 cents.

WAGES IN COTTON-MILLS.

The reduction in the hours of labor and the increase in the rates of

wages in English cotton-mills are shown in the following table:

_Statement showing the average weekly earnings of operatives in

cotton-mills during the years 1839, 1849, 1859, and 1873._

-----------------------+--------------------+-------------+-------------

| | WORK OF | WORK OF

| | 69 HOURS. | 60 HOURS.

OCCUPATION. | SEX. +------+------+------+------

| | 1839.| 1849.| 1859.| 1873.

-----------------------+--------------------+------+------+------+------

Steam-engine tenders, | |$5 76 |$5 72 |$7 20 |$7 68

Warehousemen, | | 4 32 | 4 80 | 5 28 | 6 24

Carding: | | | | |

Stretchers, |Women and girls, | 1 68 | 1 80 | 1 92 | 2 88

Strippers, |Young men, | 2 64 | 2 88 | 3 36 | 4 56

Overlookers, | | 6 00 | 6 72 | 6 72 | 7 68

Spinning: | | | | |

Winders on | | 3 84 | 4 32 | 4 80 | 6 00

self-acting mules, | | | | |

Piecers, |Women and young men,| 1 94 | 2 16 | 2 40 | 3 84

Overlookers, | | 4 80 | 5 28 | 6 24 | 7 20

Reeling: | | | | |

Throttle-rulers, |Women, | 2 16 | 2 28 | 2 28 | 3 00

Warpers, | | 5 28 | 5 28 | 5 52 | 6 24

Sizers, | | 5 52 | 5 52 | 6 00 | 7 20

Doubling: | | | | |

Doublers, |Women, | 1 68 | 1 80 | 2 16 | 3 00

Overlookers, | | 5 76 | 6 00 | 6 72 | 7 68

-----------------------+--------------------+------+------+------+------

“Other branches show the same ratio of advance.” The following

statement was furnished to Dr. Young by the proprietors of the

cotton-mills of Messrs. Shaw, Jardin & Co., of Manchester, operating

250,000 spindles, and producing yarns from No. 60 to 220, sewing

cottons, lace yarn, crape yarn, and two-fold warp yarns:

_Average wages (per week of 59 hours) of persons employed in 1872._

OCCUPATION. WAGES.

Carding:

Overseer, $10 89

Second hand, 7 26

Drawing-frame tenders, 2 66

Speeder-tenders, 3 14

Grinders, 5 32

Strippers, 5 32

Spinning:

Overseer, 14 52

Mule-spinners, $13 31 to 15 73

Mule-backside piecers, 2 42 to 3 87

Repair-shop, engine-room, etc.:

Foreman or overseer, 14 52

Wood and iron workers, 7 74

Engineer, 9 68

Laborers, 5 32

These tables will be found on pp. 330-31. Now let us compare the wages

there given with those paid to the same class of operatives in the

United States. On pages 750-51, Dr. Young gives a table showing the

average weekly wages paid in American cotton-mills in various States

in 1869 and 1874. We select Rhode Island, for the reason that the rate

of wages there appears to be a good average, being lower than is paid

in Massachusetts and higher than in New York.

_Wages in cotton-mills (weekly average)._

---------------------------------+-----------------

| RHODE ISLAND.

OCCUPATION. +--------+--------

| 1869. | 1874.

---------------------------------+--------+--------

Carding: | |

Overseer, | $17 00 | $17 00

Picker-tenders, | 7 80 | 7 72

Railway-tenders, | 3 50 |[B]4 47

Drawing-frame tenders, | 5 00 |[C]5 40

Speeder-tenders, | 6 12 |[C]7 48

Picker-boy, | 6 25 |[A]4 03

Grinders, | 9 08 | 9 10

Strippers, | 7 26 | 7 50

Spinning: | |

Overseer, | 15 60 | 17 69

Mule-spinners, | 9 50 | 10 16

Mule-backside piecers, | 2 85 |[A]2 52

Frame-spinners, | 5 00 |[B]3 70

Dressing: | |

Overseer, | 13 75 | 14 80

Second hand, | 9 00 | 11 83

Spoolers, | 5 00 |[C]4 32

Warpers, | 5 75 |[C]6 98

Drawers and twisters, | 5 00 |

Dressers, | 11 25 | 13 11

Weaving: | |

Overseer, | 18 33 | 18 00

Weavers, | 8 00 |[C]7 91

Drawing-in hands, | 7 50 |[C]7 25

Repair-shop, engine-room, etc.: | |

Foreman, | 18 00 | 15 79

Wood-workers, | 15 00 | 13 58

Iron-workers, | 13 16 | 13 68

Engineer, | 18 00 | 13 71

Laborers, | 9 33 | 8 59

Overseer in cloth-room, | 15 00 | 12 42

---------------------------------+--------+--------

[A] Boys.

[B] Females.

[C] Part females.

It will appear, therefore, from an examination of the tables that the

average weekly wages in Rhode Island cotton-mills (which fairly

represent those of the rest of the country) are in most cases from a

third to nearly double those paid in Manchester. But it will also be

observed that, whereas English wages appear to have increased steadily

in every grade, the American rates show a decided tendency downwards.

The highest skilled American labor holds its own with difficulty, but

in the lower grades cheaper labor has been extensively employed since

1869. Dr. Young’s explanation must also be borne in mind in reading

these tables—viz., that the labor is frequently piece-work. In some

instances the English operatives also employ their own helpers.

But do these figures really represent the present rate of wages?

Doubtless the average given is a fair one. But any one whose attention

was directed to the strike at the Lonsdale Mills, R. I., January,

1875, must have noticed that wages are in reality much lower than here

given. Into the merits of that controversy we do not enter—we wish

merely to arrive at the figures. The company would appear to have done

everything they could for the comfort and improvement of the condition

of their hands, and the reduction complained of probably could not be

avoided in the then depressed state of the market. The special

correspondent of the New York _Herald_ of that date gives the

statement of the superintendent, who said that the weavers before the

reduction were receiving fifty cents per cut (wide goods), and with

the reduction of 10 per cent. the price paid would be forty-five cents

per cut; or, in other words, they would earn about $1 a day. Taking

the statements of the operatives, it was claimed that many of the men

were making only ninety-six cents a day before the strike, and the

women sixty-five cents. Those figures, therefore, in the case of one

of the largest companies, represent labor as already reduced below

English rates. This strike also afforded an illustration of the

statement, made in the beginning of this article, of the instant ebb

and flow of labor, as well as capital, which now characterizes

industry in the United States. The operatives were about half English

and half Irish (the overseers alone being American), and the first

movement of those who had enough money to do so was to return to

England or Ireland.

Notwithstanding the readiness of operatives to strike the moment the

opportunity offers—a readiness perfectly well known and appreciated by

their employers—and notwithstanding also, it may be said, the

determination of employers to regulate wages by the laws of trade, it

is nevertheless one of the most noble and encouraging features of the

industrial pursuits of this age that the employers in many

instances—and those generally the chief—show that they intend that

their minds shall not be diverted from the purpose of improving the

condition of their workmen, both mentally and materially. It is well

that the mild voice of Christian charity should still be able to make

itself heard in the midst of this whir of iron machinery.

In the condition of no kind of labor does the United States compare

more favorably with England and the Continent of Europe than in

agriculture. Here the respective wages paid hardly admit of

comparison. But it is not to be lost sight of that, wretched as the

condition of the English agricultural laborer may appear to us, his

way of viewing things is not ours. The rough, arduous, irregular,

exposed labor of the Western backwoodsman, or even farmer, appears to

him more terrible than the dull, stated servitude, with its beer in

the present and its work-house in the future, that shock our free

thought. The report of the delegates of the Agricultural Union was

decidedly unfavorable in the case of Canada, where the conditions of

labor do not essentially vary from those of the Northwestern States.

This question of agricultural labor is, however, too vast a one to be

treated of here. Dr. Young’s reports are very valuable, but take,

perhaps, the American view of the question too much for granted.[30]

WAGES OF MECHANICS AND SKILLED ARTISANS IN GREAT BRITAIN.

This branch of his subject is copiously treated by Dr. Young in

connection with his tour through the chief manufacturing cities of the

United Kingdom in 1872. From the numerous tables presented we select

one under the head of “Skilled trades in London, weekly wages in 1871”

(page 242) as being the most comprehensive.

The average _daily_ wages of persons employed in the same trades in

the United States in 1874 was from $2 25 for shoemakers to $3 33 for

bricklayers or masons (pp. 745-747); or, in other words, from 50 per

cent. to 100 per cent. more than in England.

_Statement showing the established rates of wages obtained by members

of the various trades societies of the metropolis, in summer and

winter, compiled under the supervision of Alsager Hay Hill, LL.B._

----------------------+----------+--------------------

| NUMBER | RATE OF WAGES.

TRADES. | OF |----------+---------

| MEMBERS. | _Sum’r_ | _Winter_

----------------------+----------+----------+---------

Bakers, | -- | $3 87 | $5 08

Basket-makers, | -- | 3 63 | 4 84

Boat-builders, | -- | 8 47 | 7 26

Bookbinders, | 702 | 7 26 | 7 26

Brass-cock finishers, | -- | 8 47 | 8 47

Brass-finishers, | -- | 8 47 | 8 47

Bricklayers, | 2,386 | 16[D] | 16[D]

Brush-makers, | 400 | [E] | [E]

Cabinet-makers, | 500 | 7 26 | 7 26

Cabinet-makers, deal, | 450 | 7 99 | 7 99

Carpenters, | 4,740 | 9 14 | 9 14

Carvers and gilders, | 50 | 4 84 | 4 84

Coach-builders, | 25 | 9 68 | 9 68

Coach-makers, | 320 | 9 68 | 9 68

Coach-smiths, | 200 | 4 84 | 12 58

Coach-trimmers and | | |

makers, | -- | 6 05 | 6 05

Compositors, | 3,550 | 4 84 | 8 47

Cork-cutters, | 100 | 7 26 | 7 26

Cordwainers, | 3,678 | [F] | [F]

Curriers, | 1,900 | 8 47 | 8 47

Engineers, | 33,539 | {16[D] | 16[D]

| | {18[D] | 16[D]

Farriers, | 220 | 9 68 | 12 10

French polishers, | 30 | 7 26 | 7 26

Hammermen, | 80 | 5 81 | 5 81

Iron-founders and | | |

moulders, | 7,372 | 9 20 | 9 20

Letterpress printers, | -- | 7 26 | 7 26

Painters, house, | -- | 14[D] | 14[D]

Pianoforte makers, | 400 | 16[D] | 16[D]

Plasterers, | -- | 14[D] | 14[D]

Plumbers, | -- | 18[D] | 18[D]

Pressmen, printers, | 60 | 7 26 | 7 26

Skinners, | 225 | 7 26 | 7 26

Steam-engine makers, | 100 | {16[D] | 16[D]

| | {18[D] | 18[D]

Stone-masons, | 17,193 | 9 14 | 7 82

----------------------+----------+----------+---------

[D] Per hour.

[E] Piece-work.

[F] Uncertain.

PURCHASING POWER OF WAGES.

But we cannot stop at the mere figures in dollars and cents. In this

connection we must consider what those wages will buy in each

country—what is their purchasing power:

“If a workman in Birmingham” says Dr. Young, “receive for

fifty-four hours’ labor 30s., or about $8 33 in United

States currency, and another, of the same occupation, in

Philadelphia earn $12 50, it would be inaccurate to say that

the earnings of the latter were 50 per cent. more than those

of the former. The question is not what is the United States

equivalent of the thirty British shillings, but what is the

purchasing power of the wages of the one workman in England

and of the other in the United States? In other words, how

much food, clothing, and shelter will the earnings of the

one purchase as compared with the other?”

For the solution of this question Dr. Young enters into an

elaborate analysis of the price of provisions, clothing,

house-rent, etc., in each country. In this we are unable to

follow him. But taking the amount paid for board by single men

and women employed in mechanical labor in the great cities of

both countries, the average price paid by men in Great Britain

ranges from $2 50 to $3 50 per week; in the United States, from

$4 50 to $5 50. For women, in manufacturing cities in England,

from $1 50 to $2 50 per week; in the United States, from $2 50 to

$3 50. In the great American manufacturing centre, Philadelphia,

the average price of mechanics’ board is, for men, $5 per week;

for women, $3. But this does not mean a single room for each; in

most cases two, in some three, four, and even five, sleep in the

same chamber. British workmen probably eat as much meat as

American workmen, but they have not the same variety of dishes.

House-rent is cheaper in most English cities even than in

Philadelphia, where great and commendable efforts have always

been made to provide good and cheap houses for working-men.

Clothing Dr. Young estimates at less than half the price in

England for the laboring classes compared with the United States;

partly from cheaper rates, and partly from the inferior kind

British workmen consent to wear—fustian or corduroy being the

most common material.

We would wish to follow Dr. Young, if it were possible, into a

comparison of the rates of wages and cost of living in the great iron

and steel works on the Tyne, at Essen, Prussia, and in Philadelphia,

but our space is already exceeded. The highest wages earned at the

works of Fried. Krupp, Essen, which Dr. Young personally visited in

1872, were $1 80 for 11 hours’ piece-work. At the same establishment

dinner (meat and vegetables and coffee) and lodging are supplied to

unmarried men at $1 18 per week. Bread is an extra charge. Large

bakeries are attached to the works.

In the comparison of the general rates of wages and cost of living in

Great Britain and the United States, so many and so great diversities

exist in both countries that it is a hazardous matter to draw general

conclusions. Stated broadly, it would appear that the rate of wages in

Great Britain since 1865 has shown a steady tendency to advance, with

some fluctuations, while the cost of living is nearly stationary; in

the United States, within the same period of ten years, wages have

remained stationary or shown a tendency to decline, allowing for the

fluctuations caused by a depreciated currency, while the cost of

living has increased. The commercial depression existing since 1873

has affected labor in both countries, but more sensibly in the United

States. The great falling off in immigration since 1873 is a

remarkable and sensitive test of the depreciation of the labor market

in the United States and the simultaneous rise of wages in Europe.

From the recent report of the New York Emigration Commissioners it

appears that there were landed at Castle Garden during 1875 84,560

immigrants, against 140,041 for 1874 and 294,581 for 1873. The falling

off has been equally divided among all nationalities. Nor does this

tell the whole story; for the steamship companies show a very large

return of laborers to Europe during the past year. It is not intended

to convey the impression by these figures that European emigration has

finally stayed its course towards these shores, but it is evident that

it has received a serious temporary check. It is not the purpose of

this paper to investigate what the remedy for this state of things may

be. But it may be stated as the conviction of the writer that a mere

return to specie payments, though beneficial, will not do all for the

country that its advocates claim. Something more will be required—that

is, economy, curtailment of expenses, national and individual—before

we can reach bottom. Like youth sometimes, we have temporarily

outgrown our strength. We have no vast deposits of wealth, the

hoardings of centuries, to fall back upon like some European

countries. We have always lived right up to our income, and have not

yet adjusted ourselves to our sudden plunge into national debt. Hope

has all along buoyed us up to over-production and consequent

over-expenditure. The supply of labor must equalize itself to the

necessary, not speculative, work to be done before it can be

established on a sound basis. Fresh enterprises, promoting renewed

inflation and over-production, will lead to another collapse. In the

effort to recuperate, and before a new start can be made on a safe

road of prosperity (which it is not doubted will be opened again),

those who are already poor will suffer the most, as always has been

and will be the case. The American working classes will have

eventually to abandon most of those habits of personal expense which

now seem to them a matter of course, but which European working-men

would regard as extravagant, and to approach nearer to the old-country

standard of living.

We are not able to follow Dr. Young in his researches into the rate of

wages and cost of subsistence in the various countries of continental

Europe which he visited. None of them approach so near the American

standard as Great Britain. In most of them labor is poorly paid and

the working classes live meanly according to our notions, yet

contrive, withal, to enjoy a degree of comfort, and even happiness,

which to us seems hard to understand under the circumstances.

[27] _Labor in Europe and America: A Special Report on the Rates

of Wages, the Cost of Subsistence, and the Condition of the

Working Classes in Great Britain, France, Belgium, Germany,

the other Countries of Europe, and in the United States and

British America._ By Edward Young, Ph.D., Chief of the

United States Bureau of Statistics. 1875.

[28] Hallam’s _Middle Ages_, ch. ix. part i.

[29] _Id._ ch. ix. part ii.

[30] $1 a day for laborers was offered by public advertisement in

February of this year, by the superintendent of the

Centennial grounds, and men were glad to take it. How

strange the spectacle in free America—how fruitless and

disheartening the struggle it portends—when legislation is

invoked at Albany, in the great State of New York, to keep

up a fictitious price of labor!

SIR THOMAS MORE.

_A HISTORICAL ROMANCE._ FROM THE FRENCH OF THE PRINCESSE DE CRAON.

VI.

There was a castle in Yorkshire whose tall, majestic towers commanded

a view of the country for miles around, rising far above the sombre

depths of the ancient forest-trees that covered the hills on which the

castle was seated.

A silence like the grave reigned within and around this princely

habitation. Merry young pages no longer bounded over balustrades and

the walks winding from the drawbridge. The Gothic arches no more

re-echoed with the noisy clamor of the hounds nor the loud cheering of

the young hunters. Rank weeds covered the lofty ramparts and clusters

of wild flowers swung between their solitary battlements, as though

nature had struggled to conceal the eternal mourning which they seemed

for ever condemned to wear.

A traveller approached the castle and examined with great attention

the arches bearing the arms of the earls of Northumberland. He held by

the bridle a beautiful horse, covered with sweat and dust, whose

drooping head and trembling limbs attested his extreme fatigue.

“This is certainly the place!” he exclaimed, still looking around him.

“I recognize the crouching lion of Northumberland!” He knocked loudly

and waited a long time.

At length the door opened and an old man appeared before him. “What do

you want?” he demanded brusquely of the traveller. “If you ask

hospitality, you will not be refused; but if you ask to see my master,

the Earl of Northumberland, you cannot see him.”

“It is he whom I wish to see,” replied the stranger.

The old domestic contracted his white eyebrows. “That cannot be. Since

the death of his father he sees nobody.”

“The old Count of Northumberland dead!” replied Sir Walsh (for it was

he).

“Alas! yes, for an entire year. We buried him at Alnwick,” answered

the old servant, wiping away a tear.

“Go to your master,” replied Sir Walsh,” and tell him that some one

asks to see him on the part of the king. I will wait for you here.”

“On the part of the king!” replied the old servant. “On the part of

the king! That will make a difference, I think, and I do not want you

to stay here. Follow me.”

After fastening the horse to one of the iron rings which were fixed in

the wall of the inner court, he led Sir Walsh into the castle. They

crossed long courts, then entered magnificent galleries, where they

saw arranged, between the Gothic arches which separated the vast and

deeply-embrasured windows, the richest armorial trophies of all ages.

Lances, longbows, and javelins filled up the interstices. Shields and

bucklers, borne in battle by the ancestors of the noble earl, were

eating away with rust, and the festoons of spider-webs which hung from

the huge antlers of stag and deer bore witness to the neglect and

indifference of the master of the castle.

Sir Walsh, as he passed along, regarded all these things with an

admiration mingled with astonishment. He could not understand the

state of abandonment in which he found a habitation that he had always

heard described as being one of the most magnificent in all England.

The delicately-sculptured wainscoting, the costly paintings, the rich

gilding of the rafters and ceilings, were renowned among artists and

considered as models which they labored to imitate.

“How singular all this is!” he said to himself. “How can Lord Percy,

whom I have known at court, so brilliant and accomplished, content

himself in a place like this, magnificent without doubt, but

abandoned, desolate, especially since the death of his father? And why

has he not returned to court, where his tastes and habits naturally

call him?”

While absorbed in these reflections Sir Walsh, preceded by his aged

conductor, entered a large octagonal saloon, gilded all over and

pierced with crosslets on every side, through which poured floods of

brilliantly-colored light, reflected from the stained glass with which

they were ornamented.

The view extended very far, and a large river, like a broad belt of

silver, wound through the beautiful fields, interspersed with clumps

of trees that increased still more the beauty of the landscape.

Walsh paused, enraptured with the prospect that met his gaze, and his

conductor made a sign to him to remain there until he had informed his

master of his arrival.

The old domestic noiselessly entered Lord Percy’s chamber, and paused

near the door in order to observe him; then an expression of profound

sadness stole over his features and he advanced still more slowly.

Seated in the embrasure of a large window, and always dressed in the

deepest mourning, Lord Percy scarcely ever left his room. Surrounded

by a great number of books and papers, he appeared to be absorbed in

reading, and the messenger was quite near before he was aware of his

presence.

“My lord!” he said in a very low and gentle voice, “there is a

stranger here who wishes to speak to you.”

“You know very well that I receive nobody, Henry,” said the Earl of

Northumberland without turning his head. “Have you asked him his

business?”

“Most assuredly,” replied Henry with a lofty and important air. “I

know it, too. He comes here on the part of the king—of the king

himself,” he repeated.

“On the part of the king!” cried Northumberland, turning pale. “Of the

king! What does _he_ want with me? Have I not done enough for him? Is

he not satisfied with having destroyed all my hopes, all my happiness,

all my future? Of what consequence to him now is my existence?”

And, overwhelmed with the weight of his afflictions, he folded his

arms on his breast and forgot to give his servant an answer.

“My dear son,” murmured the old man softly, after a moment of silent

attention, “are you going now to torment yourself again, and may be,

after all, without any cause?” For he dreaded beyond expression

anything that might arouse or excite what he termed his master’s

“manias.”

“No, my old foster-father, do not be alarmed!” replied Northumberland,

who knew very well what was passing in his mind. “Go, and bring in

this stranger.”

He then arose, in a state of agitation he was unable to control.

Henry soon returned, bringing Sir Walsh.

On entering, the latter was prepared to give Northumberland a joyful

surprise and fold him in his arms; but on being suddenly ushered into

his presence he recoiled in astonishment. Could this be the gay and

brilliant young man he had known, always cheerful, always affable,

whose handsome face and charming manner attracted all around him?

Dressed in the deepest mourning, which by contrast increased the

pallor of his face, his expression anxious and haggard, a painful

constraint was observable in all his movements.

“You do not recognize me, Lord Percy,” said Sir Walsh at last. “There

was a time when you called me your friend, and I was proud to bear the

title!”

“Oh! no, my dear Walsh,” replied Northumberland, “I could not have

forgotten you. Rather say you no longer recognize me; for time has

passed like a dream. Since you saw me last I have been transformed

into another person. But tell me, why does the name of him who sends

you come to invade my solitude? What have I done to him to bring him

here again to disturb my ashes? For am I not already dead? Does this

castle not strike you as being strangely like a tomb, to which no one

any more finds entrance?”

“But I think,” said Sir Walsh, astonished at this outburst and forcing

a smile, “that some young girl, descended from her palace of clouds to

the midst of your abode, draws around her crowds of your astonished

vassals. They admire her snowy robes and crown of stars.”

“No,” replied Northumberland gloomily; “no, never! No female inhabits

this place. She who ought to have ruled here will never come, and she

who did rule would not remain!”

“What do you mean by that riddle?” inquired Walsh. “What! is the

Countess of Northumberland no longer here?”

“No, she is no longer here,” replied Lord Percy. And he passed his

hand over his eyes, unable to conceal the emotion all these questions

excited; for, in spite of himself, the sight of an old friend had

agitated him to the depths of his soul. Man was not made for solitude;

he is a social being; he has need of his fellow-men to love them, or

even to complain of and to them; and for many long, weary months no

human being had knocked at his door or come to offer a word of

consolation.

Walsh regarded him with increasing solicitude; at length, unable to

restrain his feelings, he threw his arms around his neck.

“My dear Percy,” he exclaimed, “what has happened to you? You seem

overwhelmed with sorrow. I felt so happy in anticipation of surprising

you by this visit, and again seeing you at the head of all the young

nobles of the north, loved as you were among us, the life of the chase

and of all those sports in which you excelled! Alas! my friend, what

misfortune has befallen you? Tell me; for I swear I will never more

leave you.”

“What misfortune has befallen me, do you ask, my dear old friend?”

replied Northumberland, deeply moved. “Yes, you are ignorant of all.

And what does it matter? It was irreparable. But tell me the cause

that brought you to me. Why has the king sent you hither?”

“For nothing that need give you the least uneasiness,” replied

Walsh—“a commission readily executed, and in which you must assist me.

We will return to this later. Tell me first of yourself—of yourself

alone, my friend—and of your father.”

“My father? He died in my arms more than a year ago without suffering.

I have done what he wished,” continued Northumberland, his eyes

filling with tears. “I have nothing with which to reproach myself on

that account. I have obeyed him. Yes,” he added, fixing his eyes on

the floor, “that is the only thought that ever comes to console me.”

“I do not understand you!” replied Walsh. “Speak more explicitly;

explain what you mean.”

“Well, know, then,” replied Northumberland in an altered voice, and

making a violent effort to control himself—“know that for a long time

I loved Anne Boleyn—yes, Anne Boleyn! We were betrothed. The day, the

hour, for our marriage were fixed, when the king tore her from me for

ever! In his jealous hatred he commanded Cardinal Wolsey, to whose

household I belonged, to summon me before him, and forbid me in his

name dreaming, for an instant, of marrying her; but on my refusing to

obey he appealed to my father, who ordered me to marry immediately a

daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury, under penalty of visiting upon me

all the weight of his indignation if I hesitated for one moment. In

vain I tried to resist; my father was furious and threatened me with

his curse. I at length submitted, and you have all assisted at the

festivities of my marriage, and, seeing my new bride, have pierced my

heart with your congratulations and assurances of my future happiness.

I then left the court. I brought her here; and that young wife, justly

wounded by my melancholy, absurd and ridiculous in her eyes, wearied

of the retired life I compelled her to lead, left me very soon after

my father’s death and returned to her family. And—shall I acknowledge

it?—sensible of the wrong I have done her, I am quite reconciled to

being forgotten and finding myself abandoned and alone. I have

dismissed successively all my pages and valets, retaining only the

oldest servants belonging to my house. Henry, my old foster-father,

takes entire charge and control of everything. Misfortune and sorrow

have made me prematurely old; I need the companionship of the aged,

and not of youth. I love to hear around me the slow and faltering step

of a man ready to sink into the grave; he seems to hasten the hour for

me. His soul, cold and subdued, soothes and refreshes mine. He never

laughs; never comes to tell me of a thousand chimerical projects, a

thousand vain hopes, recalling those in which I have indulged in days

past. His presence alone would be sufficient to expel them! And yet,

notwithstanding all this, the sorrow that slumbers in my soul is often

suddenly aroused, more wild and insupportable than ever. Wearied by

long vigils and sleepless nights, I sometimes imagine I see Queen

Catherine enter my chamber; the reflection of her gold-embroidered

robes sheds a dazzling light around her. Her ladies follow. I hear the

rustling of their heavy trains; I hear them laugh and converse

together about the tournament of the day before. Then all becomes

dark! Anne Boleyn turns her eyes away from me; she is envious of the

queen; pride, ambition, stifle in her heart every sentiment of

affection. Then my agony is renewed. I weep, I sigh, and the shadows

vanish into nothingness.

“What happiness can any one expect to find in the honors of a usurped

rank? Ah! my friend, I have seen, and felt, and suffered everything.

Our faults are the sole cause of all our afflictions. Therefore, far

from feeling incensed at the injustice of men, I no more recognize an

enemy among them. My heart goes out with deepest pity toward the

suffering ones of earth, and I would gladly be able to console them

all.”

Saying this, Northumberland paused, overcome by emotion.

“Ah!” at length replied Walsh, who had listened with rapt attention,

“how limited are our judgments! Had I been asked the name of the

happiest mortal living, I should have given yours without a moment’s

hesitation.”

“I know it, and have been told it a hundred times,” replied

Northumberland earnestly. “Many men have had their marriage relations

dissolved, their fortunes changed, and have still borne up

courageously under their misfortunes; but with me it cannot be thus.

If Anne Boleyn had married another lord of the court—well, I might

have been reconciled. I should at least have been spared the outrage

of her dishonor; for her dishonor is mine! I had so taken her heart

into my own, united my life so entirely with hers, in order not to

suffer the slightest stain to touch it, that there is no torture equal

to that which I now endure. Every moment I feel, I suffer; I hear the

whisperings of this infamous and widespread report which her foolish

vanity alone prevents her from discovering around her.”

“Dear Percy,” replied Walsh, “you cannot imagine how much you

exaggerate all this! The solitude in which you live has excited you to

such a degree that you almost imagine she bears the name of Countess

of Northumberland.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed excitedly, “she bears it in my heart; and there,

at least, no one can dispute her right!”

“And poor Lady Shrewsbury?” replied Walsh.

“Lady Shrewsbury,” cried Northumberland, “is the victim, like myself,

of compulsion! Never have I regarded her as my wife. If the king had

demanded my head, I should not have been bound to obey; but a father’s

curse is a weight that cannot be supported! My obstinacy would have

brought upon his tottering old age the bitterness of poverty and want.

No, no; that is my only excuse, and Lady Shrewsbury herself would have

forgiven me had she known my sorrow.”

“My dear Percy,” interrupted Walsh anxiously, “I am deeply grieved to

find you in this condition; your heart misleads you, and I perceive

the commission with which I am charged will be anything but agreeable.

However, what can I do? Here,” he added, unfolding a letter and a roll

of written parchment, from which hung the king’s seals, “take and

read.” He preferred giving him the order to read rather than have the

unpleasant task of verbally announcing what he now foresaw would cause

him such extreme grief. Northumberland had no sooner glanced over it

than the parchment fell from his hands.

“Who? I?” he cried. “I go to arrest the archbishop at the very moment

when all the nobility of these parts are assembled to assist at the

ceremony of his installation! I, formerly of his household, who have

spent all the happiest years of my youth with him—charge _me_ with

such a commission? The king wishes, then, to have me regarded with

horror and detestation by all the inhabitants of this country! Know,

my friend,” continued Percy, fixing his flashing eyes upon Walsh,

“that since Wolsey came here he has made himself universally loved and

cherished. He is no longer the vain, imperious man whom you knew;

adversity has entirely changed him. He occupies himself only in doing

good, reconciling family differences, and relieving the distressed.

And this gorgeous entry, which causes the king so much uneasiness, he

was to have made on foot with the utmost possible simplicity.

“For a long time Wolsey hesitated, entirely for fear of seeing his

enemies array themselves against him; but his clergy seemed so wounded

at conduct contrary to the usage of all his predecessors that he at

length consented. But see how they deceive the king, and endeavor to

excite him against those who least of all merit his displeasure!”

“What shall I say to you, my dear Northumberland?” replied Walsh.

“When the king issues an order, how can its execution be avoided? All

that you say is true beyond doubt, but neither you nor I can do

anything; it only remains for us to try and accomplish this

disagreeable commission with as little noise as possible.”

“Ah!” replied Northumberland, “why has he imposed such a commission on

me? See if even the slightest pleasure of my life is not instantly

extinguished. I was rejoicing at seeing you, and immediately I am made

to pay for it.”

He continued for a long time talking in this manner, when, Walsh

having expressed a desire to go through the castle, Northumberland

consented. They found everything in a state of extreme disorder. In

many places no care was taken even to open the house to admit the

light of day. As old Henry successively opened to them each new hall

of the immense castle, the dust, collected in heaps like piles of

down, arose and flew away to collect again further on in the apartment

upon some more valuable piece of furniture.

Walsh could not avoid expressing to the earl his surprise at seeing

him so neglect the magnificent abode of his ancestors. “It is wrong,”

replied Percy, “but I prize nothing any more. Of what consequence is

it to me whether the roof that shelters me is handsome or plain? When

our hearts are crushed by sorrow, we become oblivious to all outward

surroundings.”

* * * * *

When night came on, his host retired and left him to that repose of

which, after the fatigue of his journey, he stood so much in need.

Northumberland ordered old Henry to retire and leave him alone as

usual; but Henry had decided otherwise, and continued for a long time

to come and go and pass the chamber slowly under various pretexts, as

his solicitude on account of his master was more and more increased on

remarking that his habitual sadness had been redoubled since the

advent of his visitor.

“Accursed stranger!” he said to himself, “bird of ill-omen, what has

brought him here? That famished maw of his would have been very well

able to carry him far from the moats of our castle! It is the king who

sends him here; but is not our son king of these parts?” And thus

muttering to himself, old Henry walked on. Not being able to determine

on leaving his master, he stopped and peered through the door in order

to observe Lord Percy. The latter sat leaning on the table before him,

his eyes closed, his head resting on his hands, and seemingly

oblivious to everything around him.

“There he sits still, to take a cold with this trouble!” continued

Henry. “However, I must go and leave him.” And the old domestic, still

turning his palsied head to look back, passed slowly under the heavy

tapestry screen, that fell rustling behind him.

“He is gone,” said Northumberland to himself—“gone, perhaps, for ever;

for who knows how long Henry has yet to live? What happiness to think

we must die! When weary with suffering, the soul reposes with a bitter

joy upon the brink of that tomb which alone can deliver her from her

woes! How the certainty of seeing them end sweetens the sorrows we

endure! Here where I stand” (he arose to his feet), “beside this

hearth, each one of my sires has taken his place, and each has

successively passed away. Their armor hangs here empty; their names

alone remain inscribed upon them. Why have not I the courage, then, to

endure this time of trial they call ‘life,’ which I have wished to

consider the end, but which is only a road leading to the end—a road

perilous, rough, and wearing? The shortest is the one I consider the

best; and he who travels over it most rapidly, has he not found true

happiness?

“Have you not sometimes seen, in the midst of a violent storm, a poor

bird wildly struggling with winds and waves? You behold it for a

moment in the whirlpool, and suddenly it disappears. Just so I have

passed through the midst of the world; I had hoped to shine there,

because I was dazzled with it. To-day it becomes necessary to forget

it. O my soul! I wish thee, I command thee, to forget.”

At this moment a slight noise was heard. Northumberland started.

“What do you want, Henry?” he asked, seeing the old man standing like

a shadow at the end of the apartment.

“Nothing!” he replied impatiently.

“But truly,” said Lord Percy, “why have you returned?”

“To see if you were asleep,” brusquely answered the old servant,

approaching him. “It was scarcely worth the trouble,” he continued,

elevating his voice, “of harboring so carefully this new-comer, if he

must pay his reckoning in this way.”

“Ah!” replied Northumberland, regarding his old foster-father with a

suppliant expression.” Tell me, Henry, have you never known what it

was to grieve for one whom you loved?”

“Ay, in sooth,” replied Henry, “unfortunately I have known it; but we

are not able to live, like you, in idleness, and have hardly time to

be unhappy. When I lost my poor Alice, your foster-mother, what

anguish did I not feel in the depths of my soul! Well, if I had

stopped to think of her, I should have heard immediately my name

resounding through all the turrets of the castle: ‘Henry! my lord—my

lord goes hunting; hurry! make haste! my lord gives a ball this

evening to all the ladies of the country.’ And away I had to go, to

come, to run; otherwise my lord your father would fly into a passion.

How would you find time to weep if somebody was always calling after

you? Besides, I—poor Henry—if they had seen me sitting, like you, all

the day in silence, with tears in my eyes and my arms folded, they

would have laughed at me, and the pages would have called me a fool.”

“That is true; you are right,” replied Northumberland in an abstracted

manner. “You say, then they gave balls here?”

“And superb ones, too!” replied Henry, who liked, above all things, to

talk about the old times. “In those days you were not here; they

educated you with Monseigneur the Cardinal, our good archbishop at

present.”

On hearing these words Northumberland became violently agitated, and

his old servant, perceiving his countenance change and his features

contract, stopped suddenly in great alarm.

“You are ill, my lord?” he exclaimed.

“No, no,” replied Northumberland; “be calm. Leave me, Henry; I want to

be alone. Go to your bed—I command you.”

Henry, forced to leave his master, as he went reproached himself for

having spoken of the _fêtes_ the Countess of Northumberland had given

in the castle; he imagined it was the recollection of his mother that

had so affected Lord Percy.

“The archbishop! the archbishop!” repeated Northumberland. “Oh! let me

banish the name, in mercy—for a few hours, at least! He said, I

believe, that they gave balls here! What did he say? Yes, that must be

it: my mother loved them. Yes,” he continued, looking round at the

large and magnificent panels of his chamber, “here they hung garlands

and baskets of flowers; a thousand lamps reflected their brilliant

colors; delicious music floated on the perfumed air; crowds of people

of every age, sex, and rank eagerly gathered here. Time has very soon

reduced them to an equality; the sound of their footsteps is heard no

more; their voices are mute; they have all passed away. I alone still

exist.”

The entire night was spent in these reflections, and when day began to

dawn the heavy tramp of horses was heard in the courtyard, and soon,

in the cold fog of morning, there issued from the castle gate a troop

of armed men wearing long cloth cloaks and caps. It was the earl’s

retainers, whom he had assembled during the night from all the

surrounding country. He rode in the midst of them in profound silence;

even Sir Walsh, reading in his countenance the melancholy dejection

under which he labored, had simply pressed his hand without daring to

address him a word.

As to the followers of Northumberland, they were astonished at this

sudden departure; they were completely ignorant of whither their

master was carrying them, having learned nothing from old Henry

himself, to whom Lord Percy had deemed it inexpedient to reveal the

destination, and still less the object, of this expedition. The old

man felt singularly anxious on the subject, as he was every day

becoming more and more accustomed to regard himself as the guardian

and adviser of him whom he called his son. Therefore, after having

closed the gate of the castle upon the travellers, he went sadly and

took his station on the highest tower, to see in what direction his

master was going.

A few moments only he followed them with his eyes; for, the valley

once crossed, their route conducted them into the depths of the

forest, and the cavalcade was soon lost to view.

TO BE CONTINUED.

VAGO ANGELLETTO CHE CANTANAS VAI.

FROM PETRARCH.

Sweet bird, that, singing under altered skies,

Art mourning for thy season of delight—

For lo! the cheerful months forsake thee quite,

And all thy sunshine into shadow dies—

O thou who art acquainted with unrest!

Could thy poor wit my kindred mood divine,

How wouldst thou fold thy wings upon my breast,

And blend thy melancholy plaint with mine!

I know not if with thine my songs would rhyme,

For haply she thou mournest is not dead:

Less kind are death and heaven unto me;

But the chill twilight, and the sullen time,

And thinking of the sweet years and the sad,

Move me, wild warbler, to discourse with thee.

ITALIAN COMMERCE IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

“Your mind is tossing on the ocean;

There, where your argosies with portly sail,

Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood,

Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,

Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

That curt’sy to them, do them reverence,

As they fly by them with their woven wings.”

—_Merchant of Venice_, act i. sc. i.

Thucydides, in the introduction to his history, remarks that one of

the principal causes that raised some of the Greek cities to such a

high degree of prosperity and power was their engagement in mercantile

pursuits. All the great peoples of antiquity by whom the shores of the

Mediterranean were occupied—Phœnicians, Carthaginians, Etruscans,

Ionians of Asia Minor—rose to wealth and importance by the same means.

The Romans alone despised it.

After the subversion of the Western Empire and the last inroads of the

barbarians, the natives of Italy were the first to emerge from the

ruins of the ancient world. Except religion, they found no worthier or

more potent element of civilization than commerce, which procures, to

use the words of a celebrated writer, what is of far greater value

than mere money—“the reciprocation of the peculiar advantages of

different countries”; and throughout the middle ages, until the

passage to India by the Cape of Good Hope and the discovery of

America, Italy was the most forward nation in Christendom for wealth,

refinement of manners, and intellectual culture.

Italian commerce reached its greatest development between the

thirteenth and fifteenth centuries—that is, between the ages when

Marco Polo travelled to Tartary, China, and the Indies and Christopher

Columbus discovered America. In these two men, representatives of

Venice and Genoa, are embodied the geniuses of trade and navigation;

and as though Florence, seated between the rival cities and engaged

rather in reaping the fruits than in sowing the seeds of enterprise,

were destined to unite in herself the glory of both Italian shores,

one of her citizens—Americus Vespucius—gives his name to the New

World. This commerce began slowly but progressed rapidly, and attained

its noblest proportions during the fourteenth century, when for a

hundred years it spread over every sea and land then known in the

eager search after riches, bringing back to its votaries whatever

luxury Europe, Asia, and Africa produced or man’s invention had

evolved out of the necessities of his nature. Next, it gradually fell

away and almost disappeared in the sixteenth century, leaving behind

it only the cold consolation that there was no reason why it alone

should be excepted from the common doom of human affairs, which, when

they have enjoyed a certain measure of success, must surely decline

and fall.

When the Goths, Longobards, and Carlovingians had conquered Italy,

although most of the arts and sciences were lost or hidden in

cloisters, neither trade nor commerce was quite neglected; but,

despite the dangers from pirates, the ignorance of the sea, and the

exactions of the lawless on land, the Adriatic and Mediterranean were

timidly attempted by the inhabitants of the coast, while in the

interior of the country an interchange of commodities was carried on

between neighboring districts at places set apart for the purpose.

These places were generally the large square or principal street of a

town, or under the walls of a monastery, and the interchange took

place on certain days appointed by public authority.

The assemblies of the people were usually held on the Saturday, and

were at first called markets; but afterwards the rarer and more

important ones, which were held annually and for several consecutive

days, were termed fairs, from the Latin word _feria_, because they

always took place on the feast of some saint. Many rights and

privileges were granted at an early period to the merchants who

exhibited wares at these yearly gatherings; for without such

inducements few cared to undertake a journey with a part, or perhaps

the whole, of their earthly substance about them, along roads and

across ferries beset by robber-nobles, who levied toll from passers-by

and sometimes seized goods and persons for their own use.

The Venetians began earlier to sail on distant seas, and maintained

themselves longer on the water, than did the natives of any other

parts of Italy. Cassiodorus represents them in the sixth century as

occupied solely in salt-works, from which they derived their only

profit; but in course of time they issued from their lagoons to become

the most industrious and venturesome traffickers in the world. At the

beginning of the ninth century they had already introduced into Italy

some of the delicacies of the East, but drew odium on themselves for

conniving with pirates and men-stealers to capture people and sell

them into slavery in distant quarters of Europe and Asia. On the

opposite shore of Italy the inhabitants of Amalfi showed themselves

the most successful navigators during the early middle ages, trading

with Sicily and Tarentum, and even with Egypt, Syria, and

Constantinople. Their city is described by the poet-historian William

of Apulia, in the eleventh century, as the great mart for Eastern

goods, and the enterprise of its sailors as extending to all the ports

of the Mediterranean. Flavio Gioja, a citizen of Amalfi, if he did not

invent the mariner’s compass, as is somewhere asserted, certainly

improved it about the year 1302, either by its mode of suspension or

by the attachment of the card to the needle itself. This discovery

gave such an impulse to navigation that what had been for ages hardly

more than a skilful art became at once a science, and vessels no

longer crept along the shore or slipped from island to island, but

attempted “the vasty deep” and crossed over the ocean to the New

World.

Another rich emporium at an early period, on the same side of Italy,

was Pisa. The city was four or five miles from the sea, but had a port

formed by a natural bay to the southward of the old mouth of the Arno

at a place called Calambrone. The Pisans at first traded principally

with Sicily and Africa. They fitted out expeditions against the

Saracens,[31] seized several islands in the Mediterranean, and with

both land-troops and seamen took an important part in the first

Crusade, being careful, before returning from the East, to establish

factories at Antioch and Constantinople. They also sent fleets to

humble the Mohammedan cities of Northern Africa. Through commercial

jealousy and political reasons they became involved in bitter wars

with the Genoese for the possession of Corsica, and with the

Amalfitans, who had sided against the emperor. The Pisans, as

auxiliaries of the Emperor Lothaire, sent a strong squadron to Amalfi,

which was held by the Normans, and, after a rigorous blockade, took it

by storm in 1137. It was on this occasion that a copy of the long-lost

Pandects of Justinian was found, which is said to be the original from

which all subsequent copies in Italy were made, thus reviving the

study of Roman law. It was taken from its captors by the Florentines

in 1411, and is now preserved in the Laurentian Library at Florence.

The monk Donizo, in his metrical life of the Countess Matilda, being

annoyed that the mother of the countess should have been buried in

Pisa, describes the city somewhat contemptuously as a flourishing

emporium whose port was filled with large ships and frequented by many

different races of people, even by swarthy Moors.

To the north of Pisa rose her haughty rival, Genoa, surnamed the

Superb from her pride and magnificent natural position. After four

sanguinary wars with the Pisans, the Genoese swept their fleets from

the sea, destroyed their port, and ruined their foreign commerce. The

city never recovered from that blow, and the population, which once

exceeded 100,000, has fallen to a fifth of that number.

The Genoese had at first been the allies of the Pisans, and united

with them to drive the Saracens out of several important islands. They

also ravaged the coast of Northern Africa in the eleventh century,

and, taking part in the first Crusade, obtained settlements on the

shore of Palestine, particularly at Acre. Owing to their secure

position at home and their foothold in the East and the islands of the

West, their city became one of the two great maritime powers of Italy

and the only noteworthy rival of Venice. The power of the Genoese and

Venetians was immensely increased by the Crusades, and at one time so

feared were they in the Levant that they were able to draw pensions

and exact tribute from the pusillanimous emperor at Constantinople.

The Venetians were especially favored by Alexius Comnenus, through

whom they acquired convenient establishments along the Bosphorus and

at Durazzo in Albania. Their doge was honored with the pompous title

of _Protosebaste_. In the meanwhile intestine disturbances and wars

with neighboring republics had reduced several of those cities which

had lately been most flourishing, and none could compete successfully

in the fourteenth century with Venice and Genoa, to which the foreign

trade of Italy was left, and to whose marts the produce of the Levant

and the countries bordering on the lower Mediterranean was brought,

and either there or at the great cities of the interior exchanged for

domestic manufactures and the industries of Central and Northern

Europe. The carrying trade was almost exclusively their own, but the

home or inland business was shared by many other cities—principally by

Bologna, Ferrara, Florence, Lucca, and Milan. At that period the

Atlantic ocean and northern coasts of Europe were but rarely navigated

by Italian merchants. The Venetians alone despatched annually a large

fleet, which—taking its name, the Flanders fleet, from its

destination—carried on an enterprising and lucrative traffic with the

Low Countries, and, in connection with the Hanseatic League or

directly, spread over England, Scotland, and the nations lying on the

North Sea and the Baltic, the spices, gums, silks, pearls, diamonds,

and numerous other articles of oriental origin which they had procured

from the Levant and further Indies. The Genoese furnished the same

things to the French, Spaniards, and Moors of Andalusia; but Portugal

was served by their rivals.

A maritime power had risen before this time which disputed with the

Genoese and Venetians the ascendency on the Mediterranean. This was

Barcelona, whose sailors were among the best on the sea, and whose

merchants were largely engaged in commerce. Many bold encounters took

place between the Catalans and Italians, through jealousies of trade,

but the former finally succumbed.

The products of the more distant East reached Italy in Genoese and

Venetian ships, through Armenian merchants at Trebizond, and through

Arabs by way of Alexandria and Damascus. Those of the north, so

necessary for a seafaring people, were brought from the mouth of the

Don, the merchandise being floated down that great river in boats from

the interior. The Mongols were the masters of all the region

thereabouts; but the insinuating Italians, aware of the interest of

this branch of commerce, played upon their barbarous pride with so

much dexterity that they succeeded in making treaties with them by

which they were allowed to occupy certain trading posts where the

goods ordered might accumulate and their own wares be exchanged for

the productions of Russia, Tartary, and Persia. The wily Genoese had

bought from a Tartar prince, at the beginning of the fourteenth

century, a small piece of land on the south-eastern shore of the

Crimea on which to build a factory. Only a few rude cabins were raised

at first, for stores and the dwellings of their agents; but the

traffic soon brought together a large population, sumptuous palaces

were erected, a strong and lofty wall was built around, and Kaffa[32]

became one of the most opulent colonies of the republic, with a

population at one time of 80,000.

The rival Venetians had _their_ great deposit at the city of Azov, on

the banks of the Don, twenty miles from its mouth. They were not the

proprietors, and, although they received numerous favors from the

Tartar governor, they were obliged to share them with the Genoese,

Florentines, and others, who also did a flourishing business. The

amount of goods collected there was so immense and the value so

considerable, that when, as sometimes happened, a destructive fire

broke out or the place was plundered, the loss was felt as a shock to

commerce throughout the whole of Europe.

All along the coast of the Black Sea the Italians plied a profitable

trade, and many merchants were settled at Trebizond, from which

vantage-ground they had an important communication open with Armenia,

whose people, being united by religion to the Latins, granted them

very valuable commercial privileges. The Venetians were favored above

the rest. They had churches, magazines, and inns, coined money, and in

all matters in dispute were tried by judges chosen among their

countrymen, or rather their own fellow-citizens. They could introduce

their goods without paying duty, freely traverse the kingdom, and

monopolize the exportation of camel’s hair, which was an important

article of traffic. The Genoese were no less enterprising than their

rivals, and restored in the port of Trebizond a mole that had been

built by the Roman Emperor Hadrian. Large quantities of India goods,

and especially spiceries, were stored by Italian merchants in the

warehouses of Trebizond, Damascus, and Alexandria. There were several

overland routes by which this merchandise was transported, but none of

them was safe, on account of the frequent revolutions in the countries

through which they ran. Some of the caravans that brought the

commodities of India and China passed through Balkh, the _Baetria_ of

the ancients and at one time the commercial centre of eastern Asia,

then up to Bokhara, whence they descended the Oxus for a distance,

touched at Khiva, and, traversing the Caspian Sea, ascended the river

Kour (the _Cyrus_ of Strabo, xi. p. 509) for seventy miles to its

junction with the Aras (the _Araxes_ of Herodotus, iv. 40), from which

they crossed by a journey of four or five days into the historical

Phasis at Sharapan and down to the Euxine. Another beaten track

entered Syria by the Tigris and the Euphrates, and diverged towards

the several ports of Palestine and Asia Minor. It passed through

Bagdad, which was a great commercial emporium during the middle ages

and an entrepôt for the commodities of eastern and western Asia. A

memorial of those days when Frank merchants, mingling with Persians,

Arabs, Turks, Hindoos, Koords, and Armenians, ransacked her splendid

bazaars, remains in our language in the word _Baldachin_, because

canopies made of costly stuff interwoven with gold thread were

manufactured in this city, which was known to the Italians as

Baldacca, and in the adjective form Baldacchino. Much trade was also

done by way of the Red Sea, Cairo, and Alexandria.

In all the ports of the Euxine and Mediterranean the Italians had

shops and warehouses, and every rich company kept a number of factors,

who despatched goods as they got orders and maintained the interests

of their principals. An officer called a consul, who was appointed by

the government at home, resided in each of these foreign sea-ports, to

defend the rights of his countrymen, and decide differences among

themselves, or between them and strangers. Consuls were recognized as

official personages by the sovereign in whose territory they resided,

and were honored as public magistrates by their own people, from whom

they received certain fees for their support, according to the quality

and amount of business they were called upon to perform.

The maritime republics of Italy were very fortunate in having

transported the Crusaders to the Holy Land in their ships, for by this

they acquired many rich establishments in the Levant, and it was not

long before the dissolute and degraded Greeks, who would neither take

counsel in peace nor could defend themselves in war, became subject to

the imperious will of the Italians.

The Venetians obtained in 1204 the fertile island of Candia, which

became the centre of their extensive Egyptian and Asiatic trade. They

also had a quarter in Constantinople, which they surrounded by a wall,

the gates of which were guarded by their own soldiers, and a distinct

anchorage for their own vessels in the Golden Horn. A senate and

bailiff representing the doge held authority in this settlement, and

exercised jurisdiction over the minor establishments of the republic

in Roumelia.

The Genoese were still more powerful at the capital, and the Emperor

Michael Palæologus, who was indebted to them for his return to the

throne, had given them the beautiful suburbs of Pera and Galata, on an

elevated plateau, which they made still more secure, under the elder

Andronicus, by a moat and triple row of walls. To these places they

transferred their stores and stock; nor was it long before the

churches, palaces, warehouses, and public buildings of Pera vied in

magnificence with those of the metropolis itself. The island of Chios,

where gum-mastic was collected and the finest wine produced, was

another of their colonies. These were all ruled by a _podestà_

annually sent from Genoa. The Genoese and Venetians had also factories

in Barbary, through which they drove a brisk trade with the interior

of Africa. To them more than to any others was it due that for three

hundred years the commerce of Italy was famous from the Straits of

Gibraltar to the remotest gulf in the Euxine.

The maritime strength of the Italian republics, especially of Genoa

and Venice, corresponded to their vast commercial interests and the

number of colonies they were expected to enlarge and defend. Thus, the

Pisans in 1114 sent an armament, consisting of 300 vessels of various

sizes, carrying 35,000 men and 900 horses, to the conquest of the

Balearic Islands, which had become a nest of Moorish pirates. A great

part of these troops were mercenaries procured from all parts of the

world, and contingents drawn from their possessions in Sardinia. In

1293 the Genoese fitted out in a single month, against the Venetians,

200 galleys, each of which bore from 220 to 300 combatants recruited

within the continental limits of the republic; and in the vast arsenal

of Venice during the fourteenth century 800 men were continually at

work, and 200 galleys, not to count the smaller craft, were kept ready

in port for any emergency that might arise. Such formidable fleets

were manned either by voluntary enlistments or impressment; the hope

of heavy plunder, according to the barbarous war-system of those days,

which the church strove against but could not wholly change, appealing

to young men to serve as sailors or soldiers. The furious rivalry

between Genoa and Venice began to show itself soon after the taking of

Constantinople by the Franks in 1244, each desiring to reap alone the

profits of the Levant trade. After many bloody encounters a peace was

patched up in 1298, by which the latter was excluded for thirteen

years from the Black Sea, along whose shores the former had colonies,

forts, and factories, and was forbidden to send armed vessels to

Syria. Terms so propitious raised the pride and influence of Genoa to

the utmost; and feared by all, and claiming to be mistress of the

seas, she upheld the honor of her flag with extravagant solicitude. In

1332 she wasted the coast of Catalonia with a force of 200 galleys,

and inflicted great injury on the commerce of Barcelona; and two years

later, having captured twelve ships of the enemy, heavily freighted

with merchandise, in the waters of Sicily, Cyprus, and Sardinia, with

an example of ferocious cruelty which only the “accursed greed of

gold” and a determination to exclude the Catalans from any share in

Eastern commerce could prompt, six hundred prisoners were hanged at a

single execution. She was resolved to command the seas, and

consequently the trade of the world; but her rival, although crippled,

was not prostrate, and the fourth war broke out between them in 1372

for possession of the classical island of Tenedos, so valuable as a

naval station and renowned for its wheat and excellent red wine. The

Genoese actually got into the lagoons of Venice, vowing to reduce her

to the stagnant level of the waters, and approached so near to the

city that their admiral could shout to the affrighted people on the

quays, _Delenda est Carthago_! but by a singular freak of fortune they

were themselves totally defeated, and glad to accept the mediation of

Amadeus VI., Duke of Savoy. It was agreed that neither party should

have the island in dispute, but that the duke should hold it at their

common expense for two years and then dismantle the fortress.

During this war, called the War of Chioggia, which lasted until 1381,

an unusually large number of corsairs roved the seas; but the Italians

had long practised piracy, and whole communities were corsairs by

profession, just as on land _condottieri_ could be hired to sack

cities and castles and desolate whole provinces. The little town of

Monaco was notorious during the middle ages for its pirates, as it

still is for its ravenous land-sharks. There were two sorts of

corsairs. Some were private individuals who went to sea through lust

of gain, or because driven from their homes during the fights of

faction, and seized whatever they could. These robberies and

depredations marked piracy in its original form. Nevertheless during

the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries many otherwise

honorable characters, who were often unjustly despoiled of their

patrimony and driven as outcasts from their native cities, took to

this occupation not entirely from inclination, but impelled by the

brutality of their countrymen. We may recall as an extenuating

circumstance what that grave judge, Lord Stowell, observed (2 Dods.

374) of the buccaneers, whose spirit at one time approached to that of

chivalry in point of adventure, and whose manner of life was thought

to reflect no disgrace upon distinguished Englishmen who engaged in

it.

Other corsairs were patriotic citizens who armed their ships to injure

the enemy during lawful hostilities; and although there was abuse in

the system, they were not pirates, but privateersmen. Foreign nations

used to buy ships from the Italians to increase their own armaments,

or engage them to harass their opponents. It is curious, considering

how completely maritime supremacy has deserted the Mediterranean for

northern seas, to know that the poet Chaucer was sent by King Edward

III. in November, 1372, as envoy to the republic of Genoa to hire

vessels for his navy; and Tytler says (_Hist. of Scotland_, vol. ii.

p. 261) that in the same century many of the privateers employed by

the Scots against England appear to have been vessels of larger

dimensions and more formidable equipment than those of England,

probably from their being foreign built, and furnished by the Genoese

or the Venetians, for the purposes both of trade and piracy.

It was now that the word _Jane_ came into the language—Chaucer and

Spenser use it—for a small coin so-called from Janua (Genoa). It is

termed in the old English statutes a _galley half-pence_.

The Florentines had originally no seaboard, and were obliged to

charter ships wherever they could. In 1362, having taken into the

service of the republic Pierin Grimaldi of Genoa, with two galleys,

and hired two more vessels, their little fleet took the island of

Giglio from the Pisans, and the following year, having broken into the

port of Pisa itself, they took away the chains that protected it and

hung them as trophies on the porphyry columns of their Baptistery.

The foreign commerce for which the maritime cities of Italy, and

particularly Genoa and Venice, so savagely disputed, to the scandal of

the Christian name among the infidels, as the old English traveller

Sir John de Mandeville shows, was certainly very considerable, and a

source of almost fabulous profit to those engaged in it who were

fortunate in their ventures. Commerce was the foundation of Italy’s

prosperity, which was greater than that of any other European country

from the twelfth to the fourteenth century. The Italian merchants got

cottons, silken goods, brocades, Cashmere shawls, spices, rhubarb and

other medicines, amber, indigo, pearls, and diamonds from India and

Central Asia. From Persia there came silks, carpets, skins, and

manufactured articles used by the great for clothing or for the

comfort of their homes. Tartary and Russia furnished hemp, canvas,

ship-timber, tar, wax, caviare, raw-hides, and peltries. From the

ports of Syria and Asia Minor, and particularly from Smyrna, were

shipped to Italy hare-skins, leather, camel’s hair, valonia, cotton

stuffs, damasks, dried fruits, beeswax, drugs and electuaries, arms,

armor, and cutlery; and many articles of Asiatic luxury and

magnificence found their way thence through Italian merchants to the

courts and castles of England, Scotland, France, Germany, and other

northern nations. Greece sent fine wines, raisins, currants,

filbert-nuts, silk, and alum. A large quantity of grain was brought

into Italy from Egypt and the Barbary States; but the supply to the

colonies in the Levant came mostly from the Black Sea. Wool, wax,

sheep-skins, and morocco came from the Moorish provinces of Africa.

These were the principal imports, and were exchanged for the products

and manufactures of Italy and the countries to the north, for which

the Italians acted as agents. The Genoese exported immense quantities

of woven fabrics from the looms of Lombardy and Florence, fine linens

from Bologna, and cloths of a coarser make from France, for which a

ready market was found in the East and among the Italians settled in

the Archipelago and Levant. The oils of Provence and the Riviera of

Genoa, soaps, saffron, and coral, were also largely exported.

Quicksilver was a valuable article in the hands of the Venetians, who

got it from Istria and sold it in Spain and the Levant; they also

extracted a great amount of salt from Istria and Dalmatia, which was

sold at a good profit in Lombardy and other parts of Italy. Sardinia,

Sicily, and Naples also did a large foreign business; the last city

importing cargoes of delicate Greek and Oriental wines, such as the

famous Cyprian, Malmsey, and Muscatel, much of which was sent to

different parts of Italy, and into England and the Netherlands. Spain,

Portugal, and Flanders were supplied with the products of the Indies

and Levant principally by Genoese and Venetian merchants. The latter

especially had many privileges and fiscal exemptions in Flanders, and

in returning from the North loaded their ships in Portugal with tin,

silver bars, wines, and raisins; while the former had the greater part

of the trade with the Moors of Africa and southern Spain, from whom,

in return for spiceries and other Eastern products, they got gold,

cordovans, and merino wool, which were sold to advantage in France and

Italy.

The Italians were the best cloth-weavers in Europe in the fourteenth

century, although the Flemings were not contemptible rivals. The

manufacture of cloth was industriously carried on in many of their

cities; in those of Tuscany particularly, the finest kind of work

being done in Lucca. When this city was taken by Uguccione della

Faggiuola, in 1314, the factories and goods were destroyed, and many

citizens emigrated to other parts of Italy, and even into France,

Germany, and England. Yet long before this Italian operatives had

introduced, or at least improved, the art in the northern countries.

Crapes, taffetas, velvets, silks, camelots, and serges were

extensively made in Italy, the richest quality being sold at Florence,

where the home industries seemed to centre, and only the most skilled

artisans were employed. The art of weaving wool was practised by

thousands of citizens, and, nominally at least, by some of the noblest

families of the city and _contado_ (commune), since there was a law

that no one could aspire to public office unless he were a member of

one of the trades-corporations of the republic. The citizens of

Florence were classed from 1266 into twelve companies of trades or

professions, seven of which were called _arti maggiori_, viz., 1.

lawyers and attorneys; 2. dealers in foreign stuffs; 3. bankers and

money-changers; 4. woollen manufacturers and drapers; 5. physicians

and apothecaries; 6. silk manufacturers and mercers; 7. furriers. The

lower trades were called _arti minori_. The records of these

corporations are now preserved in a part of the Uffizi palace devoted

to the public archives of Florence. They range from A.D. 1300 to the

end of the eighteenth century. Around the hall, which was fitted up a

few years ago to receive them, are the portraits of some of the

distinguished men who belonged to these guilds: Dante, Cosimo de’

Medici, Francesco Guicciardini, and others. Balmes gives an

interesting account, after Capmany, in his _European Civilization_, p.

476, of “the trades-unions and other associations which, established

under the influence of the Catholic religion, commonly placed

themselves under the patronage of some saint, and had pious

foundations for the celebration of their feasts, and for assisting

each other in their necessities.” Although his long note refers

principally to the industrial organization of the city of Barcelona,

it is acknowledged that Catalonia borrowed many of its customs and

usages in this matter from the towns of Italy.

Before the middle of the fourteenth century there were over two

hundred drapers’ shops in Florence, in which from seventy to eighty

thousand pieces of cloth were made every year, to the value of

1,200,000 gold florins, and employing more than thirty thousand

people. The historian John Villani says that the trade had been still

more flourishing, when there were three hundred shops open and one

hundred thousand pieces were made yearly, but that they were of a

coarser quality and consequently did not bring as much money into the

city, although more people got work. The art of dyeing cloths and

other stuffs was cultivated by the Italians during the middle ages

with considerable success. Alum, which is much used for this purpose,

was eagerly sought after, and the Genoese obtained from Michael

Palæologus, on payment of an annual sum, the exclusive right of

extracting it from a certain mine in the Morea that had previously

been worked by Arabs, Catalans, and others. The lessees began

operations with a force of fifty men, and soon built a castle to

protect themselves, and finally a town, which was destroyed by the

Turks in 1455. The Florentines were so expert in dyeing wool that the

material was sent to them for the purpose from other parts of Italy,

and even from Germany and the Netherlands. It was only in 1858 that an

immense wooden building for stretching and drying cloth in the sun,

called _Il tiratoio della lana_, which had been used for over five

hundred years, was torn down as too liable to catch fire.

The cloths of France and other northern countries found a sale in

Florence, not so much for home use as for exportation through the

Genoese and Venetians. An exception, however, must be made for a rich

article called _say_, manufactured in Ireland, and esteemed so

beautiful as to be worn by the ladies of that refined city.[33] John

Villani, already mentioned, says that there was a quarter of Florence

called Calimala, containing twenty stores of the coarser cloths of the

North, of which thirty thousand pieces, of the value of three hundred

thousand gold florins, were yearly imported.