when there to repeat each of the exercises named some twenty
times, though this number is a kind of moveable feast, advancing or
decreasing with his condition, reaching as high as sixty and as low
as ten. Beyond that he is supposed to practise every day at home,
and regularity in this greatly facilitates the development, just as
home-lessons assist a schoolboy's education. There, probably,
the simile ends; certainly the majority of Sandow's followers do
conscientiously work out of school hours.
When students have been got into trim generally--this takes about
a month--they are allowed to add weight-lifting, with and without
"harness," to their regular exercises. To do so before the body was
in a supple condition might result in serious strains occasionally. A
still further stage is practice on the Roman pillar. This consists of
hanging backwards suspended from the knees, and from that rising to an
upright position, lifting with the body a bar-bell weighing anything
between 30 lbs. and 120 lbs.
[Illustration: "WHAT THE FLIPPANT CALL THE 'SEE-SAW' MOTION."]
Every few months examinations are held, the same tests and
measurements as on entering being gone through, and the results put
down side by side in the ledger, so that one's weak points can be seen
at a glance and receive particular attention forthwith.
[Illustration: "NOT PARTICULARLY GRACEFUL, BUT HIGHLY BENEFICIAL."]
Personally, I had not been in the school a few weeks before I began to
feel its benefits. The first signs were the arrival of an appetite and
the disappearance of indigestion and insomnia. Gradually I exchanged
loose flesh for firm muscle; my weight increased; my chest measurement
advanced. My weight-lifting crept up by "fives" and "tens," till at
the end of three months I could raise 70 lbs. with one hand, 350 lbs.
with two, and 500 lbs. in "harness," all with comparative ease.
[Illustration: "UNTIL HIS BODY IS BENT ALMOST DOUBLE."]
Every time I blew into the little lung-testing machine I felt
apprehensive of its breaking or getting out of order under the
strain. My course of instruction commenced ten months ago; at the last
examination, held recently, my record ran:--One hand lift 130 lbs. (an
increase of 65 lbs.). Held at arm's length 35 lbs. (increase 17 lbs.).
Raised from shoulders, one hand, 90 lbs. (increase 50 lbs.), both
hands, 160 lbs. (increase 90 lbs.). Raised above head 175 lbs.
(increase 90 lbs.). Weight, 10 st. 0 lb. (increase 1 st. 6 lb.); chest
measurement, 36 inches (increase 4 inches). Lift with "harness" 800
lbs.; without 550 lbs. Perhaps it should be added that this result
was not achieved by irregular attendance at the school or occasional
practice at home. I worked diligently every day on rising in the
morning, and before retiring at night, and I fancy I have no need to
go to South Africa now.
[Illustration: FOR THE WRISTS.]
A little about the St. James's School itself. Incredible though it may
seem, it is not a limited company. Every one connected with the place,
from the manager downwards, has to go through the system. That is
why the door is opened to you by a young Hercules whose clothes are
bursting over him, and who, rumour says, is afraid to take them off
o' nights lest he should never be able to get into them again; that
is why, if you call early or late enough, you will see a muscular
charwoman scrubbing the front steps to the quick time of "Sandow's
March," for even she is not exempt. There is, by the way, a special
course of training for lady pupils.
[Illustration: NOT SO EASY--]
Every one connected with the place participates in the profits,
which must be large, from the head-manager down to the two humbler
individuals just mentioned. That, doubtless, is why the door is always
opened to you with commendable alacrity, and may account for the fact
that the front steps are the whitest in St. James's Street, and that
the brasswork about the establishment positively dazzles the eyes with
its gleam.
[Illustration: --AS IT LOOKS.]
Of course Sandow has his "secret." It is that he does not believe in
developing one part of the body at the expense of another. His aim is
not to turn out pupils with runners' legs or rowers' arms, but of
good physique generally. If a runner enters the school his legs are
naturally better developed than the average. They will, therefore,
require less attention than usual, and more will be given to other
parts of his body. And so forth.
[Illustration: IT IS THE CONSTANT--]
The exercises are so devised that no set of muscles in the body is
overlooked. In the ordinary course they are all developed together, at
much the same rate; but this, of course, cannot always be adhered to.
It frequently happens that a pupil desires chest expansion above all
else, in which case he will devote himself primarily to the exercises
specially framed to bring about that result. In several cases a couple
of inches in the way of chest measurement has stood between pupils at
Sandow's and commissions in Her Majesty's army.
Much depends, Sandow avers, on mind concentration.
[Illustration: --STRAIN THAT--]
"It is of little use," he says, "going through the exercises
mechanically. As each one is performed, it should occupy the whole
attention. Merely swinging a dumb-bell the regulation number of times
will do no good. It should be regarded as serious work, and one's
heart should be in it. It has not been my aim to produce what are
known as strong men; it is a comparatively easy task to pick out a few
men exceptionally endowed by nature, and train them until they attain
great proficiency in particular feats of strength and activity. It may
be considered somewhat ambitious, but my honest desire is nothing less
than to permanently raise the standard of physique in the whole race,
and to restore, as far as possible, the old types of physical
strength and beauty, for the loss of which civilization is so largely
responsible."
One naturally asks: What is the age limit at which physical
development necessarily ceases? Perhaps Sandow's school-register best
answers the question. His pupils range from fourteen to seventy-three.
The gentleman of the latter age felt so rejuvenated after one week's
attendance that he promptly put himself down for a whole year's
course, and has since declared his intention of "never leaving school"
until old age compels him.
[Illustration: --DEVELOPS THE MUSCLES.]
It is interesting to recall how Sandow first came before the public as
an exponent of strength. Some nine years ago it was the practice of a
"strong man" then performing at a London theatre of varieties to
issue nightly from the stage a challenge to the world generally to
accomplish any of his feats, which included the lifting of great
weights, the snapping of steel chains, and the bending of iron bars.
One night, to everyone's surprise, the challenge was accepted by a
member of the audience, and a young man stepped upon the stage in
immaculate evening dress. When this was removed the customary attire
of the stage "strong man" was revealed. It was Sandow, then unknown.
[Illustration: LIFTING 350 LBS. WITHOUT HARNESS.]
Amid the wildest excitement he performed every one of the wonderful
feats. The next day a new "strong man" had dawned.
[Illustration: WEIGHT-LIFTING ON THE ROMAN PILLAR.]
It is Sandow's ambition to start schools of muscular development in
all the principal cities and towns in the kingdom, and if they
become as popular as those in London, there is hope for the country,
physically, yet. The tendency of the Englishman, since he acquired the
habit of living in towns, has been to take too little exercise.
Roast beef and Sandow may do more for the race than the former ever
accomplished alone.
[Illustration: LIFTING 500 LBS. WITH HARNESS.]
A. E. J.
[Illustration]
THE STONE RIDER!
A SHORT STORY OF THE WEIRD.
BY NELLIE K. BLISSETT; ILLUSTRATED BY MAX COWPER.
It was a dull day in early spring, and the wind in the pine forest
behind the Castle of Salitz was making a melancholy moaning. In one
of the deep window-seats of the castle I sat, with a book in my hand,
looking down at the drowned landscape and the swollen river. I had
come to visit that mysterious personage, Count Siebach von Salitz,
whose extraordinary powers of thought-reading and prophecy would
have brought him in several fortunes had he chosen to use them
professionally. As it was, he was the object of much interest, and
not a little awe, in half the capitals of Europe; and it was with some
curiosity that I accepted his invitation to his Hungarian estate.
So far nothing in the least peculiar had occurred to me--a
disappointment I was rather inclined to resent.
Siebach's step disturbed my meditations. I turned and saw him coming
down the passage--a tall, gaunt man, with a haggard face and evil
eyes. But if Siebach's personal appearance was not prepossessing, his
charm of manner was so great that when you knew him well you forgot
the small, cruel eyes, the sneering mouth, the curious mixture of
power and cunning which characterized his countenance. His voice, too,
was singularly beautiful, and atoned for many things.
He smiled as he came up and seated himself beside me.
"If you admire the view, you shouldn't look so solemn, Bazarac," he
said; "and if you don't, and are bored, shall we go for a ride? Or
will you come and look at my study?--you haven't seen it yet, and it
is worth seeing."
[Illustration: "HAGGARD FACE AND EVIL EYES."]
"Everything here is," I answered, as I rose and followed him
downstairs.
He laughed.
"That is the disadvantage of being born a Siebach of Salitz--there is
no merit in possessing perfection. It is merely inherited property.
Don't knock your head against this doorway--it is low. That's right!"
We had passed under a low archway into a long room panelled with black
oak. There was a table, littered with papers, near the window, and
over the hearth hung the portrait of a young man whose countenance,
particularly about the mouth, distinctly resembled that of Siebach.
"How like you that portrait is!" I exclaimed.
He looked at it for a moment as though weighing my remark carefully in
his mind.
"Do you think so?" he said at last. "It is my poor cousin Franz."
"I didn't know you had one."
"He is dead. He was drowned whilst we were bathing in the river
beneath. I was with him at the time, but I could not save him. His
body was never recovered--it was an awful affair. He was only seven
and twenty."
"Younger than you?"
"Oh, no--older. He was the heir. Poor Franz!"
I looked at the portrait with increased interest, and Siebach gazed at
it too. There was a disagreeable expression on his face.
"It is a fine portrait," I said.
"Very--an Auberthal. You know Auberthal, of course? A splendid
painter. Singular, now, I forgot that he will arrive here to-day. He
has a long-standing engagement to visit me."
I was very glad to hear it, for I had known Auberthal when he was a
mere boy, studying in Garcia's "Atelier Espagnol." We had seen a great
deal of each other, and I had liked him exceedingly. Although Siebach
was very entertaining, I did not altogether _trust_ him; a solitude
only relieved by his presence did not at the moment appear alluring.
I expressed my pleasure, and began to walk about the study, admiring
the family portraits, of which there were a great number. Under one of
them I noticed a curtain drawn across the wall, and, supposing it to
conceal a picture or a cabinet, I very innocently put out my hand as
if to draw it on one side.
[Illustration: "TALKING TOGETHER IN THE FOREST."]
A sharp exclamation from Siebach stopped me. I dropped the curtain and
turned to him.
"What is the matter?"
He recovered his self-possession immediately.
"Nothing. I was cutting a pencil and the knife slipped. Oh, it is only
a scratch!"
"What is behind this curtain?" I asked, returning to my former
occupation.
He did not answer at once. Then he laughed, a trifle uneasily.
"A family superstition--nonsense if you like. You can look."
I drew it accordingly. The curtain covered a large recess, and in this
recess stood the life-sized statue of a horse in white marble, bearing
a man in armour upon his back. The singular part about this equestrian
group was, that whilst the horse was stone, the trappings and the
man's armour were real.
"That is an odd idea," I remarked.
"What, the armour? Oh, it belonged to an ancestor of mine. Of course
there is a stone figure underneath to match the horse."
"The vizor of his helmet is down. Why don't you raise it? It would be
far more effective."
He laughed again more uneasily than ever.
"My dear Bazarac, 'let sleeping men lie' is an excellent transposition
of the old proverb. This gentleman is supposed to 'walk'--or rather
ride. In other words, he is the family apparition. He is supposed to
ride about the castle at night."
"What a very unpleasant idea!"
"Do you think so? Well, it is sufficiently ghastly, I admit."
"Have you ever seen him?"
"No, but I have often fancied I heard a horse snorting and trampling
about the passages. At this time of year he is often heard. The
servants tell odd stories about him, but I have never encountered him
myself."
"It would be an interesting encounter."
Siebach shuddered visibly.
"I think not," he said, in an altered tone.
I looked up at him. His face was very pale, and his shifty glance
avoided mine.
"You are afraid of him," I said, laughing.
An odd light blazed for a second in his eyes. He had a pair of gloves
in his hand, having just come in from a walk. Suddenly, without any
warning, he flung one glove full at the mailed face of the Stone
Rider. The armour rattled, and the glove fell back at Siebach's feet.
He picked it up and looked me in the face.
"You see whether I am afraid," he said, haughtily.
I did not understand his manner, but I saw that it would be better to
change the subject at once, and avoid it for the future. So I asked
him at what time Auberthal would arrive, and we talked of other
things.
Auberthal came in time for dinner--a little round man with a face all
brown skin and black beard, and extraordinarily bright eyes. I should
never have recognized in him the slip of a boy whose genius had
electrified the "Atelier Espagnol," but he was as pleasant as ever. We
passed a very enjoyable evening, and retired in due course to bed.
From the moment I had dropped the curtain across the recess in
the study, I had never given another thought to the Stone Rider.
Auberthal's arrival had successfully banished reflection on that
somewhat peculiar incident. I undressed, and got into bed, and, as I
was not sleepy, began to read. I suppose this was at about half-past
eleven, and I went on reading steadily for over half an hour, at the
end of which period I laid down my book and prepared to blow out my
candles, when a sound arrested my attention, and I paused to listen.
The castle had long been silent, and everyone had retired to rest. Yet
there was a distinct sound as of someone moving about the corridors
under me.
My room was in the second story of the building, at the head of the
grand staircase--an immensely broad and imposing affair of beautifully
inlaid marble. The corridors, too, were all marble paved, so that the
slightest sound was noticeable in them. I listened, and distinctly
heard the noise, whatever its cause, approach the foot of the
staircase. Then it paused for a moment, and there followed a curious
sound of scrambling, as of a large and somewhat unwieldy object coming
up the stairs.
By this time my curiosity was thoroughly excited. I got out of bed
and went to the door. As the room was very long, and the door at the
farther end of it, this was a decidedly better post for listening
purposes. I had not been there a second before I heard the
unmistakable rattle of armour, and the snuffling sound a horse would
make after any unusual exertion. A wild idea flashed across my mind,
and I pressed closer to the door.
This was the Stone Rider!
The sounds came nearer and nearer until they were just outside. Then
came another pause, and a heavy sigh--almost a groan--but whether from
horse, or rider, I could not decide. Then the horse was turned round,
and clattered and rattled down the shallow steps of the staircase, and
away down the corridors, until all was silent once more.
All this time, though greatly excited, I had not felt the slightest
sensation of fear; but now that all was still such a feeling of terror
came over me that I lay awake for hours scarcely able to breathe,
listening for the return of this midnight visitant. But he did not
come, and towards morning I fell asleep.
[Illustration: "IT IS GOING DOWN THE CORRIDOR TOWARDS THE STUDY."]
At breakfast I observed that Auberthal, who had been very lively the
previous evening, seemed silent and depressed. Siebach, too, looked
rather yellower and thinner than usual. I enquired if they had not
slept well.
"Oh, yes," answered Siebach, hastily, "I have slept very well indeed,
thank you."
Auberthal said nothing for a moment.
"You don't look particularly brilliant yourself, Bazarac," he remarked
presently.
"Somebody was racketing about the staircase last night and disturbed
me," I replied carelessly. "Didn't you hear it, Auberthal? Your room
is next mine. I wondered whether the noise would keep you awake."
Siebach looked up at me sharply and seemed about to speak. But he
thought better of it, and returned to his breakfast.
"Yes," said Auberthal, quietly. "Something certainly kept me awake.
That family ghost of yours, Siebach, I expect--the Stone Rider."
"I heard nothing," returned the Count, stolidly.
But Auberthal was not to be silenced.
"No? That is odd. I heard him distinctly. He stopped outside my door;
and something groaned. It gave me a peculiar sensation. What makes him
walk, Siebach--I suppose there's a legend?"
"Oh, there are lots of legends," answered Siebach, offhandedly. "One
says that the Ritter von Salitz in the thirteenth century caused
a statue of himself, on his favourite charger, to be set up in the
courtyard of the castle, and when he took prisoners of war, he chained
them to the Stone Rider and flogged them to death. When he was about
sixty he married for the second time. His wife was very young and very
beautiful, and had been betrothed to his eldest son, whom he hated,
and banished from the castle. One day he found his son and his wife
talking together in the forest. He seized them, had them lashed to the
statue, and directed his men to flog them to death, whilst he himself
stood by and derided them. However, that was the last atrocity he
perpetrated, for he soon after went mad, and died. And his spirit is
doomed to ride the stone horse for ever."
"A sufficiently horrible story, at any rate," remarked Auberthal,
composedly. "Is the horse in your study the original of the
courtyard."
"Yes. It has been most carefully preserved, and handed down from
generation to generation."
"No wonder it roams about the castle at night," I said.
"That is mere nonsense," returned Siebach, irritably.
I said nothing more; but after breakfast I found an opportunity of
speaking to Auberthal alone.
"I should like to investigate this matter," I said. "Will you help me,
Auberthal?"
He laughed.
"Certainly; but I don't believe in ghosts, you know, Bazarac. I trust
you don't?"
[Illustration: "FOR A FEW MOMENTS THE RIDER REMAINED MOTIONLESS."]
"I have seen some very strange things in connection with ghosts; at
all events, will you keep up to-night, and follow the Stone Rider with
me?"
"If it will afford you any amusement."
"Don't speak to Siebach about it, then. He evidently does not care for
the subject," and I related to him the incident of the glove.
He looked rather grave.
"I am sorry to hear it," he said, when I had finished. "There is
insanity in his family, you know--I don't think his brain is what it
was. And once he went off his head altogether."
"When?"
"Soon after his cousin was drowned. He saw it happen. That was enough
to drive anyone mad, perhaps. But he was always queer."
"Then, to-night--?"
"Yes. When he gets to the bottom of the staircase again we will follow
him."
The day passed off very quietly, and nothing more was said about the
statue. We went to our rooms at the usual time, and I sat down to
wait. At a few minutes past twelve I heard the noise beginning. It
came up the staircase as it had done before, and paused for a moment
outside the door. Then I again heard the sigh, or groan, and the
clattering down the stairs. I opened my door and found Auberthal
already on the landing.
"Make haste," he said. "It is going down the corridor towards the
study."
[Illustration: "HE GRIPPED MY ARM."]
We rushed down, and along the passage, the rattling going in front of
us. But we were too slow. When we reached the study, the green
baize curtain was drawn, and everything was perfectly still. After
a moment's hesitation I pushed back the curtain. There sat the Stone
Rider, immovable as ever, mailed and erect.
"He looks quite harmless," I said, doubtfully.
Auberthal bent down and held the candle closer. On the side of the
horse were great dark stains, and the armour glimmered redly in
the flame. The painter put his hand on one big patch, and drew back
quickly.
"I could swear it was wet," he whispered. "Let us go!"
We returned, and I drew him into my room.
"It's very odd!"
"Very!" He held up his hand. "Do you see?"
"Good Heavens!" I gasped, "it's all red!"
"With blood," he said, solemnly.
* * * * *
For some days neither Auberthal nor I spoke of our adventure with the
Stone Rider. But at last, one evening before dinner he came to me in
my room.
"I shall go down into the study to-night," he said, "and see what
really happens. Will you come too?"
"Yes. The noise at night still goes on?"
"Regularly every night. Bazarac, I mean to get to the bottom of this
mystery."
"All right. I shall be charmed if you can prove the whole thing a
hoax, but--"
"But what?"
"I don't think you will."
He considered for a moment.
"I don't think I shall either," he said, as he left me.
Siebach was unusually brilliant and amusing at dinner. He kept us at
table long after our usual hour, and when we at last got away to our
rooms there was barely time to let the castle become quiet, and get
back to the study, before twelve o'clock. However, we accomplished the
feat, seated ourselves near together, blew out the candle, and waited
for the ghost to move.
For some time everything was silent. Then, all at once, the room
became strangely illuminated. One after another the chairs, and
tables, and pictures grew out of the gloom, lit up with a pale,
peculiar light. And at last the curtain was drawn aside--the horse
shook himself, and snorted--the armour rattled--and the Stone Rider
rode slowly out into the middle of the room.
The supernatural radiance streamed from him--it issued from the closed
bars of his helmet, from the steel breastplate, from the joints of the
rusted gorget. It seemed to grow brighter every moment, till, almost
dazzled, I turned my attention to the horse.
I did not at first notice the stain on his side which Auberthal had
observed. But as I looked at him, I saw that a dark stream began to
trickle down the whiteness of the marble. It dripped from a great dent
in the breastplate of the Rider--dripped slowly and steadily over the
horse's neck, and rolled down to the floor.
For a few moments the rider remained motionless; then struck his spurs
into the marble flanks of his steed, and they moved away. The light
went with them through the open door, and Auberthal sprang up and
rushed after them.
I saw the Stone Rider turn in his saddle and look back as we raced
after him; and a flash of flame seemed to shoot out from between the
helmet-bars. On they went--clattering, clashing, rattling through the
stone passages, and we after them. They reached the staircase--the
Rider rose in his stirrups and urged the horse up. The pace was too
fast--the horse slipped, plunged--and finally recovered himself, just
as an ordinary horse might do, and halted.
But the Rider's balance was destroyed. He swayed in the high
saddle--his arms went wildly into the air--and he crashed forward,
and fell, with a horrible rattling sound, at our feet. The clasps that
fastened the gorget and breastplate burst--the helmet rolled away--and
on the pavement before us lay a skeleton!
For a time we were too stunned to speak. Then Auberthal uttered an
exclamation of horror and looked up.