CONCLUSION.
The Emperor went to Quebec for a week, and thence returned to London, in
the month of July. There he announced his intended marriage, and that it
would very soon take place. The ovations showered on the Emperor in
consequence of his successful operations in the United States defy
description. He was recognised as the first military genius of the day.
Many declared that he excelled all military heroes of the past, and that
a better-devised and more ably carried-into-effect military movement was
not to be found in the pages of history, ancient or modern.
At such a time, had the marriage been really unpopular, much would have
been conceded to the desire to do honour to his military successes. But
the marriage was not unpopular in a personal sense. There was great
difference of opinion as to the wisdom of an emperor marrying a subject
instead of seeking a foreign alliance. On the one hand, difficulties of
court etiquette were alleged; on the other, it was contended that
Britain had nothing to gain from foreign marriage alliances, that she
was strong enough without them, and that they frequently were sources of
weakness rather than strength.
The Duchess of New Zealand sat alone in her study in the new mansion in
London of which she had just taken possession. It was magnificently
furnished and decorated, but she would soon cease to have a use for it.
She was to be married in a week, and the Empress of Britain would have
royal residences in all parts of her wide dominions. She intended to
make a present of her new house, with its contents, to Phoebe Buller on
her marriage with Colonel Garstairs. He won his promotion in the United
States war. She was writing a letter to her sister, Lady Montreal. A
slight noise attracted her attention. She looked up, and with dismay
beheld the face of Lord Reginald Paramatta. "How dare you thus intrude?"
she said, in an accent of strong indignation, though she could scarcely
restrain a feeling of pity, so ill and careworn did he look.
"Do not grudge me," he said, in deprecatory tones, "a few moments of
your presence. I am dying for the want of you."
"My lord," replied Hilda, "you should be sensible that nothing could be
more distasteful to me than such a visit after your past conduct."
"I do not deny your cause of complaint; but, Hilda--let me call you so
this once--remember it was all for love of you."
"I cannot remember anything of the kind. True love seeks the happiness
of the object it cherishes, not its misery."
"You once looked kindly on me."
"Lord Reginald, I never loved you, nor did I ever lead you to believe
so. A deep and true instinct told me from the first that I could not be
happy with you."
"You crush me with your cruel words," said Lord Reginald. "When I am
away from you, I persuade myself that I have not sufficiently pleaded my
cause; and then with irresistible force I long to see you."
"All your wishes," said the girl, "are irresistible because you have
never learned to govern them. If you truly loved me, you would have the
strength to sacrifice your love to the conviction that it would wreck my
happiness." The girl paused. Then, with a look of impassioned sincerity,
she went on, "Lord Reginald, let me appeal to your better nature. You
are brave. No one more rejoiced than I did over your great deed in
Canada. I forgot your late conduct, and thought only of our earlier
friendship. Be brave now morally as well as physically. Renounce the
feelings I cannot reciprocate; and when next I meet you, let me
acknowledge in you the hero who has conquered himself."
"In vain. In vain. I cannot do it. There is no alternative for me but
you or death. Hilda, I will not trifle with time. I am here to carry you
away. You must be mine."
"Dare you threaten me," said she, "and in my own house?" Her hand was on
the button on the table to summon assistance, but he arrested the
movement and put his arm round her waist. With a loud and piercing
scream, Hilda flew towards the door. Before she reached it, it opened;
and there entered a tall man, with features almost indistinguishable
from the profuse beard, whiskers, and moustache with which they were
covered. Hilda screamed out, "Help me. Protect me."
"I am Laurient," he whispered to the agitated girl. "Go to the back
room, and this whistle will bring immediate aid. The lower part of the
house and staircase are crowded with that man's followers." Hilda rushed
from the room before Lord Reginald could reach her. Colonel Laurient
closed the door, and pulled from his face its hirsute adornments. "I am
Colonel Laurient, at your service. You have to reckon with me for your
cruel persecution of that poor girl."
"How came you here?" asked Lord Reginald, who was almost stunned with
astonishment.
"My lord," replied Laurient, "since your attempt at Waiwera to carry the
Duchess away you have been unceasingly shadowed. Your personal
attendants were in the pay of those who watched over that fair girl's
safety. Your departure from Canada was noted, the object of your stay in
London suspected. Your intended visit to-day was guessed at, and I was
one of the followers who accompanied you. But there is no time for
explanation. You shall account to me as a friend of the Emperor for your
conduct to the noble woman he is about to marry. She shall be persecuted
no longer; one or both of us shall not leave this room alive."
He pulled out two small firing-pieces, each with three barrels. "Select
one," he said briefly. "Both weapons are loaded. We shall stand at
opposite ends of this large room."
At no time would Lord Reginald have been likely to refuse a challenge
of this kind, and least of all now. His one desire was revenge on some
one to satisfy the terrible cravings of his baffled passions. "I am
under the impression," he said, with studied calmness, "that I already
owe something to your interference. I am not reluctant to acquit myself
of the debt."
In a few minutes the help Hilda summoned arrived. Laurient had taken
care to provide assistance near at hand. When the officers in charge of
the aid entered the room, a sad sight presented itself. Both Lord
Reginald and Colonel Laurient were prostrate on the ground, the former
evidently fatally stricken, the latter scarcely less seriously wounded.
They did not venture to move Lord Reginald. At his earnest entreaty,
Hilda came to him. It was a terrible ordeal for her. It was likely both
men would die, and their death would be the consequence of their vain
love for her. But how different the nature of the love, the one
unselfish and sacrificing, seeking only her happiness, the other
brutally indifferent to all but its own uncontrollable impulses. It
seemed absurd to call by the same name sentiments so widely opposite,
the one so ennobling, the other so debasing.
She stood beside the couch on which they had lifted him. "Hilda," he
whispered in a tone so low, she could scarcely distinguish what he said,
"the death I spoke of has come; and I do not regret it. It was you or
death, as I told you; and death has conquered." He paused for a few
moments, then resumed, "My time is short. Say you forgive me all the
unhappiness I have caused you."
Hilda was much affected. "Reginald," she faltered, "I fully, freely
forgive you for all your wrongs to me; but can I forget that Colonel
Laurient may also meet his death?"
"A happy death, for it will have been gained in your service."
"Reginald, dear Reginald, if your sad anticipation is to be realised,
should you not cease to think of earthly things?"
"Pray for me," he eagerly replied. "You were right in saying my passions
were ungovernable, but I have never forgotten the faith of my
childhood. I am past forgiveness, for I sinned and knew that I was
sinning."
"God is all-merciful," said the tearful girl. She sank upon her knees
before the couch, and in low tones prayed the prayers familiar to her,
and something besides extemporised from her own heart. She thought of
Reginald as she first knew him, of the great deeds of which he had been
capable, of the melancholy consequence of his uncontrolled love for
herself. She prayed with an intense earnestness that he might be
forgiven; and as she prayed a faint smile irradiated the face of the
dying man, and with an effort to say, "Amen," he drew his last breath.
Three days later Hilda stood beside another deathbed. All that care and
science could effect was useless; Colonel Laurient was dying. The fiat
had gone forth; life was impossible. The black horses would once more
come to the door of the new mansion. He who loved Hilda so truly, so
unselfishly, was to share the fate of that other unworthy lover. Hilda's
grief was of extreme poignancy, and scarcely less grieved was the
Emperor himself. He had passed most of his time since he had learnt
Laurient's danger beside his couch, and now the end was approaching. On
one side of the bed was the Emperor, on the other Hilda, Duchess of New
Zealand. How puerile the title seemed in the presence of the dread
executioner who recognises no distinction between peasant and monarch.
The mightiest man on earth was utterly powerless to save his friend, and
the day would come when he and the lovely girl who was to be his bride
would be equally powerless to prolong their own lives. In such a
presence the distinctions of earth seemed narrowed and distorted.
"Sir," said the dying man, "my last prayer is that you and Hilda may be
happy. She is the noblest woman I have ever met. You once told me," he
said, turning to her, "that you felt for me a sister's love. Will you
before I die give me a sister's kiss and blessing?" Hilda, utterly
unable to control her sobs, bent down and pressed a kiss upon his lips.
It seemed as if life passed away at that very moment. He never moved or
spoke again. He was buried in the grounds of one of the royal
residences, and the Emperor and Hilda erected a splendid monument to his
memory. No year ever passed without their visiting the grave of the man
who had served them so well.
Their marriage was deferred for a month in consequence of Colonel
Laurient's death, but the ceremony was a grand one. Nothing was wanting
in the way of pomp and display to invest it with the utmost importance.
Throughout the whole Empire there were great rejoicings. It really
appeared as if the Emperor could not have made a more popular marriage,
and that unalloyed happiness was in store for him and his bride.
EPILOGUE.
Twenty years have passed. The Emperor is nearly fifty, and the Empress
is no longer young. They have preserved their good looks; but on the
countenance of each is a settled melancholy expression, wanting in the
days which preceded their marriage. Their union seemed to promise a
happy life, no cloud showed itself on the horizon of their new
existence, and yet sadness proved to be its prominent feature. A year
after their marriage a son was born, amidst extravagant rejoicings
throughout the Empire. Another year witnessed the birth of a daughter,
and a third child was shortly expected, when a terrible event occurred.
A small dog, a great favourite of the child, slightly bit the young
prince. The animal proved to be mad, a fact unsuspected until too late
to apply adequate remedial measures to the boy, and the heir to the
Empire died amidst horrible suffering. The grief of the parents may be
better imagined than described. The third child, a boy, was prematurely
born, and grew up weak and sickly. Two more children were subsequently
born, but both died in early childhood. The princess, the elder-born of
the two survivors, grew into a beautiful woman. She was over eighteen
years old when this history reopens. Her brother was a year younger. The
contrast between the two was remarkable. Princess Victoria was a fine,
healthy girl, with a lovely complexion. She inherited her mother's
beauty and her father's dignity and grace of manner. She was the idol of
every one with whom she came in contact. The charm and fascination of
her demeanour were enhanced by the dignity of presence which never
forsook her. Her brother, poor boy, was thin and delicate-looking, and a
constant invalid, though not afflicted with any organic disease. They
both were clever, but their tastes were widely apart. The Princess was
an accomplished linguist; and few excelled her in knowledge of history,
past and contemporaneous. She took great interest in public affairs. No
statesman was better acquainted with the innumerable conditions which
cumbered the outward seeming of affairs of state. Prince Albert Edward,
on the contrary, took no heed of public affairs. He rarely read a
newspaper; but he was a profound mathematician, a constant student of
physical laws: and, above all, he had a love for the study of human
character. When only sixteen, he gained a gold medal for a paper sent in
anonymously to the Imperial Institute, dealing with the influence of
circumstances and events upon mental and moral development. The essay
was very deep, and embodied some new and rather startling theories,
closely reasoned, as to the effects of training and education.
The Princess was her father's idol; and though he was too just to wish
to prejudice his son's rights, he could not without bitter regret
remember that but for his action long ago his daughter would have been
heiress to the throne. Fate, with strange irony, had made the Empress
also alter her views. The weak and sickly son had been the special
object of long years of care. The poor mother, bereaved of three
children out of five, clung to this weak offspring as the shipwrecked
sailor to the plank which is his sole chance of life. The very notion of
the loved son losing the succession was a cruel shock to her. The
theoretical views which she shared with Mrs. Hardinge years since, were
a weak barrier to the promptings of maternal love.
So it happened that the Emperor ardently regretted that he had prevented
the proposed change in the order of succession, and the Empress as much
rejoiced that the views of her party had not prevailed. But the Emperor
was essentially a just man. He recognised that before children had been
born to him the question was open to treatment, but that it was
different now when his son enjoyed personal rights. Ardently as he
desired his daughter should reign, he would not on any consideration
agree that his son should be set aside without his own free and full
consent. What annoyed him most was the fallacy of his own arguments long
ago. It will be remembered, he had laid chief stress on the probability
that the female succession would reduce the chance of the armies being
led by the Emperor in person in case of war. But it was certain that, if
his son succeeded, he would not head the army in battle. The young
Prince had passed through the military training prescribed for every
male subject of the Empire, but he had no taste for military knowledge.
Not that he wanted courage; on the contrary, he had displayed
conspicuous bravery on several occasions. Once he had jumped off a yacht
in rough weather to save one of his staff who had fallen overboard; and
on another occasion, when a fire took place at sea, he was cooler and
less terror-stricken than any of the persons who surrounded him. But for
objects and studies of a militant character he had an aversion, almost a
contempt; and it was certain he never would become a great general. The
fallacy of his principal objection to the change in the order of
succession was thus brought home to the Emperor with bitter emphasis.
Perhaps the worst effect of all was the wall of estrangement that was
being built up between him and the Empress. When two people constantly
in communication feel themselves prevented from discussing the subject
nearest to the heart and most constant to the mind of each, estrangement
must grow up, no matter how great may be their mutual love. The Emperor
and Empress loved each other as much as ever, but to both the discussion
of the question of succession was fraught with bitter pain.
The time had, however, come when they must discuss it. The Princess had
already reached her legal majority, and the Prince would shortly arrive
at the age which was prescribed as the majority of the heir to the
throne. His own unfitness for the sovereignty and the exceeding
suitability of his sister were widely known, and the newspapers had just
commenced a warm discussion on the subject. The Cabinet, too, were
inclined to take action. Many years since, Mrs. Hardinge died quite
suddenly of heart disease; and Lady Cairo had for a long period filled
the post of Prime Minister. Lady Garstairs, _née_ Phoebe Buller, was
leader of the Opposition. She was still a close friend of the Empress,
and she shared the opinion of her imperial mistress that the subject had
better not be dealt with. But Lady Cairo, who had always thought it
ought to have been settled before the Emperor's marriage, was very much
embarrassed now by the strong and general demand that the question
should be immediately reopened. She had several interviews with the
Emperor on the subject. His Majesty did not conceal his personal desire
that his daughter should succeed, or his opinion that she was signally
fitted for the position; but nothing, he declared, would induce him to
allow his son's rights to be assailed without the Prince's full and free
consent. Meanwhile the Prince showed no sign. It seemed as if he alone
of all the subjects of the Empire knew and cared nothing about the
matter. He rarely spoke of public affairs, and scarcely ever read the
newspapers, especially those portions of them devoted to politics.
The Emperor felt a discussion with the Empress could no longer be
avoided; and we meet them once more at a long and painful interview, in
which they unburdened the thoughts which each had concealed from the
other for years past.
"Dear Hilda," said the Emperor, "do not misunderstand me. I would rather
renounce the crown than allow our son's rights to be prejudiced without
his approval."
"Yes, yes, I understand that," said the Empress; "and I recognise your
sense of justice. I do not think that you love Albert as much as you do
Victoria, and you certainly have not that pride in him which you have in
her; whilst I--I love my boy, and cannot bear that he should suffer."
"My dear," said the Emperor, "that is where we differ. I love Albert,
and I admire his high character; but I do not think it would be for his
happiness that he should reign, nor that he should now relinquish all
the studies in which he delights, in order to take his proper position
as heir to the throne. In a few weeks he will be of age; and if he is to
succeed me, duties of a most onerous and constant character will devolve
on him. He is, I will do him the justice to say, too conscientious to
neglect his duty; and I believe he will endeavour to attend to public
affairs and cast away all those studies that most delight him: but the
change will make him miserable."
"You are a wise judge of the hearts and ways of men and women, and it
would ill become me to disregard your opinion; but, Albert, does it not
occur to you that our Albert might live to regret any renunciation he
made in earlier life?"
"I admit the possibility," said the Emperor; "but he is stable and
mature beyond his years. His dream is to benefit mankind by the studies
he pursues. He has already met with great success in those studies, and
I think they will bring their own reward; but should anything occur to
make him renounce them, he may, I admit, lament too late the
might-have-been."
"Supposing," said the Empress, "he married an ambitious wife and had
sons like you were, dear Albert, in your young manhood?"
"One cannot judge one's self; yet I think I should have accepted
whatever was my position, and not have allowed vain repinings to prevent
my endeavouring to perform the duties that devolved on me."
"Forgive me, Albert, for doubting it. You would, I am sure, have been
true to yourself."
"You confirm my own impression. Recollect, Hilda, true ambition prompts
to legitimate effort, not to vain grief for the unattainable. It may be
that Victoria's own children will succeed; but Albert's children, if
they are ambitious, will not be denied a brilliant career."
"I cannot argue the matter, for it is useless to deny that I refuse to
see our son as he is. I love him to devotion, yet the grief is always
with me that the son is not like the father."
"Hilda dear, he is not like the father in some respects; but the very
difference perhaps partakes of the higher life. When the last day comes
to him and to me, who shall say that he will not look back to his
conduct through life with more satisfaction than I shall be able to do?"
"I will not allow you to underrate yourself. You are faultless in my
eyes. No human being has ever had cause to complain of you."
"Tut! tut! You are too partial a judge." But he kissed her tenderly, and
his eyes gleamed with a pleasure for a very long while unknown to them,
as she brought to him the conviction that the love and admiration of her
youth had survived all the sorrows of their after-lives.
At this juncture the Prince entered the room. "Pardon me," he said. "I
thought my mother was alone;" and he was about to retire. The Emperor
looked at the Empress, and he gathered from her answering glance that
she shared with him the desire that all reserve and concealment should
be at an end. In a moment his resolution was formed. His son should know
everything and decide for himself.
"Stay, Albert," he said. "I am glad to have an opportunity of talking
with you in the presence of your mother."
"I am equally glad, Sir. Indeed, I should have asked you later in the
day to have given me an audience."
"Why do you wish to see me?" said the Emperor, who in a moment suspected
what proved to be the case: that his son anticipated his own wish for an
exchange of confidence.
"During the last few days it has become known to me, Sir, that a
controversy is going on respecting the order of succession to the
throne. I have," producing a small package, "cuttings from some of the
principal newspapers from which I gather there is a strong opinion in
favour of a change in the order of succession. I glean from them that by
far the larger number are agreed on the point that it would be better my
sister should succeed to you." He paused a moment, and then in a clear
and distinct tone said, "I am of the same opinion."
The Empress interposed. "Are you sure of your own mind? Do you
recognise what it is you would renounce--the position of foremost ruler
on the wide globe?"
"I think I realise it. I am not much given to the study of
contemporaneous history, but I am well acquainted with all the
circumstances of my father's great career." The parents looked at each
other in surprise. "Yes; there is no one," he resumed, "who is more
proud of the Emperor than his only son."
With much emotion the father clasped the son's hand. "What is it you
wish, Albert?" he said.
"I would like Victoria to be present if you would not mind," replied the
Prince, looking at his mother. "May I fetch her?"
The Empress nodded. "You will find her in the next room."
The Princess Victoria was a lovely and splendid girl. It was impossible
to look at her without feeling that she would adorn the highest
position. The Emperor's face lighted up as he glanced at her; and the
Empress, much impressed with what her husband had said, kissed the
Princess with unusual tenderness. She probably wished her daughter to
feel that she was not averse to any issue which might result from the
momentous interview about to take place.
"Sir," said the young Prince, addressing his father, "I know how
important your time is, so I will not prolong what I wish to say. Until
I saw these papers," holding up the extracts, "I confess I was unaware
of the great interest which is now being taken in the question of the
succession. But I cannot assert that the subject is new to me; on the
contrary, I have thought it over deeply, and it was my intention to
speak to you about it when in a few weeks I should attain my majority."
"My dear boy, pray believe that it was through consideration to you I
have refrained from speaking to you on the subject."
"I know it, Sir, and thank you," said the boy with feeling; "but the
time has come when there must be no longer any reserve between us. You
know, I do not take much interest in public affairs, and I fear it has
grieved you that my inclinations have been so alien to what my position
as heir to the throne required. But I am not unacquainted with the
principles of the constitution of the Empire. I will not pretend that I
have studied them from a statesman's point of view. They have absorbed
my attention in the course of my favourite study of human character. I
have closely (if it did not seem conceited, I might say philosophically)
investigated the Constitution with the object of determining to what
extent it operates as an educational medium affecting the character of
the nation. The question of the succession is settled by the
Constitution Act, and no alteration is possible in justice, that does
not fully reserve the rights of all living beings. I am first in the
order of succession, and no law of man can take it from me excepting
with my full consent."
"Albert," interrupted the Emperor, "you say rightly; and I assure you
that I am fully prepared to adopt this view. No consideration will
induce me to consent to any alteration which will prejudice you
excepting with your own desire; and indeed I am doubtful if even with
your desire I should be justified in allowing you at so early a period
of your life to make a renunciation."
"I am grateful, Sir, for this assurance. Its memory will live in my
mind. And now let me say that, having for a long while considered the
subject with the utmost attention I could give to it, I am of opinion
that the present law by which the female succession is partly barred is
not a just one. I will not, however, say that it ought to be altered
against a living representative; but I decidedly think that it should be
amended as regards those unborn. The decision I have come to then does
not depend upon the amendment in the Constitution which I believe to be
desirable. It arises from personal causes. I believe that my sister
Victoria is as specially fitted for the dignity and functions of
empress, as I am the reverse."
The Princess Victoria started up in great agitation. She was not without
ambition, and it could not be questioned that the position of empress
had fascinating attraction for her active mind and courageous spirit.
But she dearly loved her brother, and her predominant feeling at the
moment was regard for his interests. "Albert," she said with great
energy, "I will not have you make any sacrifice for me. You will be a
good and clever man, and will adorn whatever position you are called
to."
"I thank you, Victoria," said the boy gravely. "I am delighted that you
think so well of me. But you must not consider I am making a sacrifice.
My inclinations are entirely against public life. The position of next
heir, and in time of emperor, would give me no pleasure. My
ambition--and I am not without it--points to triumphs of a different
kind. No success in the council or in the field would give me the
gratification that the reception of my paper by the Imperial Institute
occasioned me, and the gold medal which I gained without my name as
author being known. Why I have dwelt on your fitness for the position,
Victoria, is because I do not believe that I should be justified in
renouncing the succession unless I could honestly feel that a better
person would take my place."
"Albert," interposed the Empress, "let your mother say a word before you
proceed further. I will not interfere with any decision that may be
arrived at. I leave that to your father, in whose wisdom I have implicit
faith. But I must ask you, Have you thought over all contingencies, not
only of what has happened in the past or of what is now occurring, but
of what the future may have in store?"
"I have, my mother, thought over the future as well as the past."
"You may marry, Albert. Your wife may grieve for the position you have
renounced; you may have children: they may inherit your father's grand
qualities. Will you yourself not grieve to see them subordinate to their
cousins, your sister's children?"
"Mother, I probably shall not marry; and if I do, my renunciation of the
succession will justify me in marrying as my heart dictates, and not to
satisfy State exigencies. I shall be well assured that whomever I marry
will be content to take me for myself, and not for what I might have
been. As to the children, they will be educated to the station to which
they will belong, surely a sufficiently exalted one."
The Emperor now interposed. "You are young," he said, "to speak of wife
and children; but you have spoken with the sense and discretion of
mature years. I understand, that if you renounce the succession, you
will do so in the full belief that you will be consulting your own
happiness and not injuring those who might be your subjects, because you
leave to them a good substitute in your sister."
"You have rightly described my sentiments," said the boy.
"Then, Albert," said the Emperor, "I will give my consent to the
introduction of a measure that, preserving your rights, will as regards
the future give to females an equal right with males to the succession.
As regards yourself, I think the Act should give you after your majority
a right, entirely depending on your own discretion, of renunciation in
favour of your sister, and provide that such renunciation shall be
finally operative."
Our history for the present ends with the passage of the Act described
by the Emperor; an Act considered to be especially memorable, since it
removed the last disability under which the female sex laboured.
* * * * *
It is perhaps desirable to explain that three leading features have been
kept in view in the production of the foregoing anticipation of the
future.
First, it has been designed to show that a recognised dominance of
either sex is unnecessary, and that men and women may take part in the
affairs of the world on terms of equality, each member of either sex
enjoying the position to which he or she is entitled by reason of his or
her qualifications.
The second object is to suggest that the materials are to hand for
forming the dominions of Great Britain into a powerful and beneficent
empire.
The third purpose is to attract consideration to the question as to
whether it is not possible to relieve the misery under which a large
portion of mankind languishes on account of extreme poverty and
destitution. The writer has a strong conviction that every human being
is entitled to a sufficiency of food and clothing and to decent lodging
whether or not he or she is willing to or capable of work. He hates the
idea of anything approaching to Communism, as it would be fatal to
energy and ambition, two of the most ennobling qualities with which
human beings are endowed. But there is no reason to fear that ambition
would be deadened because the lowest scale of life commenced with
sufficiency of sustenance. Experience, on the contrary, shows that the
higher the social status the more keen ambition becomes. Aspiration is
most numbed in those whose existence is walled round with constant
privation. Figures would of course indicate that the cost of the
additional provision would be enormous, but the increase is more seeming
than real. Every commodity that man uses is obtained by an expenditure
of more or less human labour. The extra cost would mean extra employment
and profit to vast numbers of people, and the earth itself is capable of
an indefinite increase of the products which are necessary to man's use.
The additional employment available would in time make work a privilege,
not a burden; and the objects of the truest sympathy would be those who
would not or who could not work. The theory of forcing a person to
labour would be no more recognised than one of forcing a person to
listen to music or to view works of art. Of course it will be urged that
natives of countries where the earth is prolific are not, as a rule,
industrious. But this fact must be viewed in connection with that other
fact that to these countries the higher aims which grow in the path of
civilisation have not penetrated. An incalculable increase of wealth,
position, and authority would accompany an ameliorated condition of the
proletariat, so that the scope of ambition would be proportionately
enlarged. There would still be much variety of human woe and joy; and
though the lowest rung of the ladder would not descend to the present
abysmal depth of destitution and degradation, the intensely
comprehensive line of the poet would continue as monumental as ever,--
"The meanest hind in misery's sad train still looks beneath him."
Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
* * * * *
HUTCHINSON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
_Nearly Ready._
+IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS+,
And other Colonial Tales and Sketches.
By L. J. FARJEON, C. HADDON CHAMBERS,
EDWARD JENKINS, "TASMA," and others.
Edited by PHILIP MENNELL.
Crown 8vo, in handsomely printed coloured wrapper, 1s.
_In the Press._
+THE MAID OF ORLEANS+,
And the Great War of the English in France.
By W. H. DAVENPORT ADAMS,
Author of "Memorable Battles in English History," etc.
Large crown 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth, with 8 Illustrations,
3s. 6d.
_In the Press._
COMPANION VOLUME TO "THE ALDINE RECITER."
+THE ALDINE DIALOGUES.+
Edited by ALFRED H. MILES.
Cloth, crown 4to, bevelled boards, gilt, 3s. 6d.
_Nearly Ready._
+THE A1 RECITER. Part 4.+
Edited by ALFRED H. MILES.
128 large pages of Poetry and Prose by leading English and American
Authors. Crown 4to, 6d.
London: HUTCHINSON & CO., 25, Paternoster Square.
POPULAR NOVELS BY AUTHORS OF THE DAY.
Price 2s. each, Paper Boards.
Handsome Library Edition, in cloth, 2s. 6d.
BY MRS. RIDDELL.
AUSTIN FRIARS.
TOO MUCH ALONE.
THE RICH HUSBAND.
MAXWELL DREWITT.
FAR ABOVE RUBIES.
A LIFE'S ASSIZE.
THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH.
HOME, SWEET HOME.
PHEMIE KELLER.
RACE FOR WEALTH.
THE EARL'S PROMISE.
MORTOMLEY'S ESTATE.
FRANK SINCLAIR'S WIFE.
THE RULING PASSION.
MY FIRST AND MY LAST LOVE.
CITY AND SUBURB.
ABOVE SUSPICION.
JOY AFTER SORROW.
BY FLORENCE MARRYAT.
GERALD ESTCOURT.
LOVE'S CONFLICT.
TOO GOOD FOR HIM.
WOMAN AGAINST WOMAN.
FOR EVER AND EVER.
NELLY BROOKE.
VERONIQUE.
HER LORD AND MASTER.
THE PREY OF THE GODS.
THE GIRLS OF FEVERSHAM.
MAD DUMARESQ.
NO INTENTIONS.
PETRONEL.
BY SYDNEY S. HARRIS.
THE SUTHERLANDS.
RUTLEDGE.
CHRISTINE.
THE TWO COUSINS.
London: HUTCHINSON & CO., 25, Paternoster Square.
BY J. SHERIDAN LEFANU.
CHECKMATE.
ALL IN THE DARK.
GUY DEVERELL.
THE ROSE AND THE KEY.
TENANTS OF MALORY.
WILLING TO DIE.
WYLDER'S HAND.
THE HOUSE BY THE CHURCHYARD.
BY G. A. SALA.
QUITE ALONE.
BY JOSEPH HATTON.
CLYTIE.
THE TALLANTS OF BARTON.
IN THE LAP OF FORTUNE.
VALLEY OF POPPIES.
IN SOCIETY.
CHRISTOPHER KENRICK.
CRUEL LONDON.
THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA.
BITTER SWEETS.
BY F. W. ROBINSON.
CHRISTIE'S FAITH.
CARRY'S CONFESSION.
UNDER THE SPELL.
HOUSE OF ELMORE.
MILLY'S HERO.
MR. STEWART'S INTENTIONS.
NO MAN'S FRIEND.
WILD FLOWERS.
POOR HUMANITY.
OWEN, A WAIF.
WOODLEIGH.
A WOMAN'S RANSOM.
MATTIE, A STRAY.
SLAVES OF THE RING
ONE AND TWENTY.
BY SAM SLICK.
THE SEASON TICKET.
BY COLONEL WALMSLEY.
CHASSEUR D'AFRIQUE.
THE LIFEGUARDSMAN.
BRANKSOME DENE.
London: HUTCHINSON & CO., 25, Paternoster Square.
_SECOND EDITION. JUST PUBLISHED._
LETTS'S POPULAR ATLAS OF THE WORLD.
A series of 156 Maps and Plans (size of each, 17 inches by 14),
delineating the whole surface of the globe, and containing many original
and interesting features not to be found in any other atlas, with a
copious consulting index of 100,000 names.
PRICES.
£. s. d.
Maps folded and bound in cloth 2 2 0
Maps " " in half morocco 2 12 6
Maps flat and bound in half morocco 3 0 0
Maps backed with linen and bound in half
morocco 5 0 0
_N.B.--This Atlas has had by far the largest sale of any collection of
maps published in English or any other language._
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.
"To notice adequately this extraordinary work is beyond our power.
Unless such a feat had been done, we should have doubted if it were
possible."--_Academy._
"The unmounted form of Messrs. Letts's Atlas is beyond all question
the cheapest full compendium of geographical information to be
obtained, and the mounted form one of the most
handsome."--_Saturday Review._
"For general reference in all matters connected with commercial
geography, it would be difficult to point to a more useful
publication than this atlas."--_Royal Geographical Society's
Proceedings._
"Remarkable alike for the number and quality of its maps, the
variety of modes in which the aid of colour is called into
requisition to convey not merely information regarding geographical
and political divisions, or facts in physical geography in its
widest sense, but numerous other kinds of valuable
information."--_Daily News._
"The information is brought up to the latest date, is closely
packed, and clearly printed; the only fault, if any, being that it
is redundant.... Letts's atlas may be pronounced a durable and
exhaustive one."--_Spectator._
"Both the physical features, and the main commercial, agricultural,
and mineral products of different countries, with the chief lines
of navigation and of railway and telegraph, overland and submarine
cables, are shown with remarkable distinctness.... The drawing and
printing are beautifully clear; the colouring is significant and
agreeable."--_Illustrated London News._
"'Letts's complete Popular Atlas' is certainly one of the very
best, if not actually the best popular work of its kind; in several
particulars it is an improvement on other atlases."--_Graphic._
"The publishers may boast that they have succeeded in combining an
atlas with a statistical encyclopædia. Maps are lavishly
provided.... It is a marvel of cheapness, and of great and
painstaking labour."--_Scotsman._
London: HUTCHINSON & CO., 25, Paternoster Square.