A WARRIOR TAKING HIS REST.
The rapid fall of darkness made it difficult to pursue the enemy, who
at every point had been worsted. General Hope, knowing that large
reinforcements might be expected to arrive soon in the French camp,
decided to carry out Sir John Moore’s plan of immediate embarkation.
At ten o’clock that night the march began, brigade after brigade
leaving the field of battle and silently going on board one transport
after another. So complete had been all previous arrangements that, by
morning light, almost the whole British Army was on board.
Meanwhile, anxious consultation had taken place as to what should
be done with the beloved remains of the Commander. Colonel Anderson
settled the question by stating that Moore had often told him his
wish—“if he ever fell in battle, to be buried where he had fallen.”
It was decided that a grave should be dug on the rampart of the Coruña
citadel.
At midnight the body was reverently borne into the citadel by Colonel
Graham, Major Colbourne and the Aides-de-camp. For a few hours it lay
in Colonel Graham’s room.
In the early morning firing was heard. It was then determined not to
put off the funeral any longer, lest a fresh attack should be impending
and the officers be compelled to hasten away before paying the last
honours to their Chief.
Somewhat strangely, it fell to Roy Baron to be present at this mournful
ceremony.
It so happened that, in the early morning, Roy was sent by the Colonel
of his Regiment with a message to one of the Aides-de-camp; and as he
arrived on the spot just when the funeral was about to begin, he was
allowed to be one of the party in attendance.
Not at dead of night, but at eight o’clock in the chill morning of a
January day, and in the grave prepared by his own men, Sir John Moore
was laid. No coffin could be procured. The body had not been undressed.
He wore still the General’s uniform in which he had fought his last
battle, and—
“He lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.”
That same cloak, in which but a few days earlier he had visited Roy in
the little hut,—had laid his kind hand upon the boy’s arm,—had spoken
never-to-be-forgotten words of praise,—had smiled upon him——
Roy dared not let himself think of all this. Burning blinding tears
forced their way to his eyes—and not to his only—as he gazed his last
upon that perfect face in its pale sublime repose.
Moore was carried by the “Officers of the Family,” who would allow no
other hands to do for him these last sad services. The Burial Service
was read by the Chaplain. And what was in the hearts of them all has
been told, in words that cannot be improved upon, by that noble elegy,
which is Moore’s best monument.
“Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow,
But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head,
And we far away on the billow.
Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone,
And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he’ll reck, if they’ll let him sleep on,
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring,
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory,
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone with his glory.”[1]
For every man in the Army had lost a friend that day; and many a one
felt with passionate grief that the world, without John Moore in it,
would be for him a changed world thenceforward.
Hard things were spoken of him after he was gone, and upbraidings,
indeed, were uttered—_not_ by his brave foe, who honoured Moore,
and wished to raise a stone to his memory—but by an ungrateful
section of his own countrymen, because, forsooth, with an Army of
only twenty-three thousand men he had not met and crushed two hundred
thousand. We know better now! In the cold clear light of history, such
fogs are driven away.
Yet, even in these later days, have we made enough of the name of
John Moore? Have we thought enough of the man of whom Napoleon in the
zenith of his fame could declare that he was the only General left
fit to contend with himself, and against whose twenty-three thousand
men he counted it needful to bring in a fierce rush over eighty
thousand, failing even then in his purpose? Have we thought enough of
the man under whom the future Wellington wished nothing better than
to serve?—and about whose “towering fame” the sober historian of the
Peninsular War wrote in terms of unstinted praise? Have we thought
enough of the man who, while the bravest of the brave, was also the
most blameless and the most beloved of men, against whom Detraction had
no word to utter, save that he stood up almost too strenuously for his
country’s honour, and that he did not accomplish impossibilities?
If not, it is surely time that his countrymen should begin to “do him
justice!”
But for that fatal cannon-ball—who can say?—would Wellington have
become the foremost man in Europe, or would he have been second to
Moore? It might have been Moore, not Wellington, who turned the tide
of Napoleon’s success.[2] It was Moore who stemmed that tide, with his
spirited countermarch and splendid retreat, drawing the Enemy after
him, until he stood at bay upon the coast, and hurled back the onset of
the flower of Buonaparte’s Army.
Of Moore’s personal valour, of his indomitable courage, of his
desperate enthusiasm, no voice was ever heard in question. To his
consummate generalship, his mingled audacity and calculation, this
marvellous Retreat bore ample witness, but for many years it was not
rightly understood by the mass of his own countrymen. Napoleon, Soult
and Ney gauged him far more truly than did the average Englishman of
his day. Not even against the future Wellington would Napoleon have
poured such an overwhelming force as he launched against Moore.
(_To be continued._)
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Written in memory of Moore by the Rev. C. Wolfe, about 1817.
[2] These sentences were written before Lord Wolseley’s speech at
Dumfries, June 15, 1898, in which he was reported as having said:
“There could be little doubt in the minds of most soldiers who knew
what Moore did, that, had he not been killed at the Battle of Coruña,
_he_ would have been the great Commander who led the Peninsular
War, and it was quite possible that that great man, whom they all
worshipped, the Duke of Wellington, would not have been heard of. He
did not say that to depreciate the services of the Duke of Wellington,
who had been a rock of strength to this country; but possibly, had Sir
John Moore lived, _his_ name would have been blazoned on the scroll
of fame, as the man who won the great battle which crushed Napoleon’s
power at Waterloo.”
OUR LILY GARDEN.
PRACTICAL AIDS TO THE CULTURE OF LILIES.
BY CHARLES PETERS.
What garden is complete without the good old tiger-lily? Other lilies
are finer and more graceful, no doubt, but the old-fashioned tiger-lily
will always hold its own in the struggle for popularity.
Although we call it an old-fashioned flower, it has not been grown in
England for so very long, being unknown before this century. It made a
bit of a stir, too, when it first blossomed in England. And no wonder
that it did, when we see what a grand sight a bed of these lilies
really is.
_Lilium Tigrinum_ is a native of China, but it has long been cultivated
in Japan, and it is from the latter country that we obtain most of our
foreign bulbs.
A curious fact, which we have frequently noticed in connection with
this lily, is that the size of the annual portion of the plant seems to
bear no relation to the size of the bulb. In most lilies large bulbs
produce fine plants, though we have seen that this is by no means
always the case. But with _L. Tigrinum_ the shoot apparently bears
no relation whatever to the size of the bulb. If planted in very good
soil, all the bulbs of _L. Tigrinum_ seem to do equally well; whereas
in an unsuitable soil all seem to fare equally poorly.
The bulbs are heavy and white, with the scales very dense and closely
packed.
In growth this lily resembles _L. Auratum_ in some respects, and the
members of the _Isolirion_ group in others. The leaves are very green
and glossy, and are present in larger numbers than is commonly the case
with lilies.
_L. Tigrinum_ is one of the two lilies which constantly bear bulblets
in the axils of their leaves. We have seen that under certain
circumstances several of the other lilies produce these aërial
bulblets, but the tiger-lily invariably does so. The bulblets are deep
glossy purple in colour, and are often produced in great numbers. If
planted as soon as they are ripe, they will grow freely and produce
flowering spikes in their second or third year.
Everyone knows the blossom of the tiger-lily. The pyramidal shape of
the inflorescence, with its nodding bell-like blossoms, irresistibly
suggests a Chinese pagoda, and when looking at the plant one can almost
feel that it hails from China.
The segments of the blossoms of the tiger-lily are much re-curved,
their tips touching their points of origin. The colour of this lily,
reddish orange, is very different from that of any that we have already
described, but as we shall see later, it is a very common colour among
the lilies. In the type of the tiger-lily the colour is a very fine
orange, and the spots, which are very numerous, are deep purple.
The tiger-lily often bears seed in this country if the bulblets
are removed. As, however, seed is the least satisfactory mode of
propagating lilies, it is far better to utilise the bulblets for this
purpose.
Individually, the tiger-lily is a fine plant, but its full effect
is only to be obtained by growing it in great clumps. A bed of
tiger-lilies is a grand sight, and it blossoms in September and
October, a time when showy plants are not very numerous.
[Illustration]
There are several varieties of the tiger-lily. That which is most
commonly grown is called _splendens_, because it is very floriferous,
and the flowers are of large size, fine colour, and are thickly spotted.
Another variety, called _Fortunei_, is also very fine. It grows to the
height of six feet, and the stem and buds are covered with white silky
down. The flowers are very numerous, often exceeding thirty in number.
They are large, less reflexed than in the type, and only sparingly
spotted with large spots.
The tiger is the second lily we have met with of which there is a
double-flowered variety. There are only four double lilies, and none
of them possesses the elegance of the single form. The old double
tiger-lily is very full and is interesting, though far inferior in
beauty to the type.
There is little to be said about the cultivation of the tiger-lily. It
is perfectly hardy and will grow anywhere. It prefers a rich soil, and
in poor or damp spots it often degenerates.
There is a lily which resembles the tiger-lily so closely that very few
people could distinguish between them unless they were placed side by
side. And yet most writers on the subject have separated this lily from
the tiger-lily and placed it among the _Martagon_ group, a group of
lilies differing extremely from the one which we are now considering.
The lily which we refer to is called _Lilium Maximowiczii_ or
_Pseudo-Tigrinum_. It resembles the tiger-lily very closely, but is not
so sturdy in growth, and the flowers are smaller and poorer than those
of the tiger-lily. There are several named varieties known.
Another lily of the same class is _Lilium Leichtlini_, the exact
counterpart of the last species, only differing from it in the colour
of its flowers, which are lemon yellow instead of orange. It is thickly
spotted with small mahogany spots and streaks. It is a very desirable
lily because of its uncommon colour, and it is not by any means
difficult to grow.
Both _L. Maximowiczii_ and _L. Leichtlini_ require a moist peaty soil.
Plenty of peat, plenty of sand, plenty of water and very little direct
sunshine, are the keystones of the successful cultivation of these
lilies.
At an auction last year we gave seven and sixpence for two very small
bulbs of _Lilium Henryi_, a lily which has only lately been introduced,
but one which is fast rising into prominence from its curious colour,
its bold growth and its hardiness.
_Lilium Henryi_ is usually called the “orange _Speciosum_,” but in it
we can see far more resemblance to the tiger-lily than we can to _L.
Speciosum_. It seems to connect the _L. Tigrinum_ and _L. Speciosum_.
Its growth, its leaves, its flower buds and its habits suggest a close
resemblance to the tiger-lily. But the raised tubercles and spines of
the blossom recall _L. Speciosum_. The shape of the blossom is nearer
to that of _L. Tigrinum_ than it is to _L. Speciosum_, and the colour
is totally different from either.
Dr. Henry’s lily blossoms late in September, or in the beginning of
October. Fine examples grow six to eight feet high and produce sixteen
to forty blossoms. The flowers are bright orange without spots.
Our two specimens failed to reach the height of eighteen inches, but
both produced blossoms—one a solitary one, the other a pair. This is
all that can be expected from bulbs at three and ninepence a-piece. We
expect to do much better this year.
The hardiness of this lily is unquestionable, and it needs no special
cultivation.
This lily is a native of China and is at present extremely scarce.
Unless you are prepared to give ten shillings for a single bulb it is
not worth while to grow it. If the bulbs ever get to be as cheap as
a shilling or eighteenpence each, it will be well worth growing, but
at ten shillings a bulb! It is monstrous to pay such a sum for a lily
which at its best is only of inferior beauty.
The lilies which we have considered so far are all remarkable for the
elegance of their forms and the striking colours of their flowers. If
the reader has dreamed that all lilies are equally beautiful, or, at
all events, that all are of great beauty and elegance, we are sorry to
have to awaken him to the sad reality that there are many lilies which
are not beautiful in colour and which are extremely inelegant in form.
The next group of lilies, _Isolirion_, contains many species, in all of
which the flowers are erect and the segments little if at all reflexed.
They are of low growth, and the blossoms are mostly orange in colour.
This group of lilies contains many old garden favourites which, though
they possess but little individual beauty, are yet pleasing in the
flower bed from the brightness and size of their blossoms, and for the
early period at which they flower.
There is a great sameness about the members of the group _Isolirion_,
and as there are many garden varieties of most of the species, some of
which are possibly hybrids, it is a most difficult task to separate the
various species from one another.
We associate the lily with elegance. What, then, should we imagine
_Lilium Elegans_, _the_ elegant lily to be like? And what is the
reality? A low-growing clumsy stalk bearing two or three top-heavy
enormous blossoms sticking bolt upright, chiefly of crude colours! As
inelegant a plant as it is possible to conceive, having about as much
right to the title of _elegans_ as has the hippopotamus! Where did this
lily get its name from? It has another title, _Lilium Thunbergianum_,
or Thunberg’s lily. Which of these names shall we use? Which is the
less objectionable? The name which records the chief characteristic
which the plant lacks, or that concocted of a Latinised version of
the name of a human being? Formerly this lily was called _Lilium
Lancifolium_, or the lance-leafed lily, a name which, though it might
be equally well applied to nearly every known species of lily, is yet
better than either of its modern names. But we cannot use this name,
for florists will persist in applying the name _Lancifolium_ to _L.
Speciosum_.
_L. Elegans_ grows about a foot high, and each stem bears from one
to four blossoms. The blossoms are very large, very inelegant, and
short-lived. But they make up to a certain extent in colour what they
lack in form.
There are innumerable varieties of _L. Elegans_, differing chiefly in
the colour of the flowers. Some of the colours are very fine, others
are harsh and crude.
We append a table of the colours of the best known varieties. An
asterisk is placed before the most desirable forms.
_L. Elegans_ produces both a double and a semi-double variety. We
should have thought that a “semi-double” flower was the same as a
single one. But it is not so. A semi-double equals a one-and-a-half
blossom! That is, a double corolla of which the inner part is abortive.
_Lilium Croceum._ The old orange lily resembles _Lilium Elegans_, but
it grows taller, and produces a far larger number of blossoms. This
is the finest of the upright orange lilies. The blossoms are large and
reddish-orange in colour, spotted with black. The plant grows to about
three feet high, and is very showy.
In Ireland this lily is the national emblem of the Orangemen; and when
travelling in that country you can tell, so we have been assured, the
political opinion of the owner of a house by observing what lilies he
grows in his garden. The Orangemen are said to grow none but the orange
lily, while the rest of the population cultivate only the Madonna lily
(_L. Candidum_).
A variety of _L. Croceum_ named _Chauixi_ is of a bright yellow colour,
and is finer than the type.
This lily is found wild in various parts of Central Europe. It has
been in cultivation for centuries; but lately it has almost lost its
place as a garden lily, having been discarded in favour of some of the
varieties of _L. Davuricum_, which are much cheaper, but nothing like
so fine.
The term _L. Umbellatum_ is applied to certain varieties and possibly
hybrids of _L. Croceum_ and _L. Davuricum_.
A very similar species is _Lilium Davuricum_, a native of Siberia. The
wild plant rarely bears more than two blossoms on each stem; but in
cultivation flower-spikes of twenty or more blossoms are not uncommon.
_L. Davuricum_ is frequently grown in gardens. There is a large number
of named varieties of this lily, but all the forms are very similar,
and in no way deserve separate names. The plant grows to about four
feet high, and produces from four to thirty flowers of a dirty orange
colour.
_Lilium Bulbiferum_ very much resembles the lilies we have just
mentioned, but it may be at once distinguished from any other
_Isolirion_ by the bulblets which are formed in the axils of the
leaves. These bulblets are large and purple in colour. Not very
uncommonly bulblets form in the axils of the leaves of _L. Davuricum_
or _L. Elegans_; but when they do, they are small and green.
The blossoms of _L. Bulbiferum_ are like those of _L. Davuricum_ on a
smaller scale. The same upright position, the same poorness of form,
and the same dirty orange colour, which is so persistent among the
members of the group _Isolirion_, are present in both. But the blossoms
of _L. Bulbiferum_ are distinctly smaller than are those of _L.
Davuricum_.
If the lilies we have just described are not particularly remarkable
for beauty, they are, nevertheless, very desirable subjects for the
flower garden. They are showy, extremely hardy, flower in early
June, when showy flowers are rare, and readily increase when once
established. _L. Elegans_ looks best planted in rows and borders, its
low growth suiting it admirably for such treatment.
These lilies will grow anywhere, in any soil. A little peat and sand
should be mixed with the soil in which these lilies are planted.
Although they will grow well enough in pots, these lilies are quite
worthless for pot culture.
One of the best of the _Isolirion_ group of lilies is _Lilium
Batemanniae_. This plant resembles _L. Elegans_ in some particulars,
but its blossoms are quite distinct. They are of a rich unspotted
apricot colour. The perianth is more reflexed than is commonly the case
in this group. It flowers in the late summer. It should be grown in a
good peaty soil.
_Lilium Wallacei_, a very similar species, has the flowers of a rich
apricot, densely spotted with black. The bulbs of this species are very
small. It requires similar treatment to the last.
_Lilium Philadelphicum_ is an American species, and has a rhizomotose
bulb. The stem produces a single blossom, dirty orange colour spotted
with black and yellow. It requires a wet, very peaty soil.
Another American species is _Lilium Catesbaei_, a very curious and
interesting plant. The bulb is unlike that of any other lily except _L.
Avenaceum_. It somewhat resembles a fir-cone. This plant grows to the
height of about a foot. It produces a single blossom, about five inches
across. The segments are curiously curved and curled. Its colour is
reddish orange and yellow. It should be grown in a peaty soil, but it
is a somewhat tender species, and is not really suitable for outdoor
culture in this country.
We have hurried through this group of lilies because the species are
not remarkable either for form or for colour. They are certainly
inferior to any other of the genus _lilium_.
--------------------+----------------------------------+------------------------------------
Variety. | Colour of Flower. | Other Peculiarities.
--------------------+----------------------------------+------------------------------------
| |
Type | Dirty orange, spotted. | .. ..
| |
*_Van Houttei_ | Deep red, spotted black. | The best of the red varieties.
*_Horsmanni_ | Deep red, spotted black. | Very rare and difficult to obtain.
| |
| { Pale terra-cotta, } |
*_Aurantiacum Verum_| { very slightly spotted. } | Best of terra-cotta varieties.
| { } |
| |
_Robustum_ | Dirty orange, spotted. | { Very early. Stem covered
| | { with down.
| |
*_Atro-Sanguineum_ | Very deep red, slightly spotted. | Fine variety.
| |
*_Prince of Orange_ | Terra-cotta, slightly spotted. | Inferior to _Aurantiacum Verum_.
| |
_Wilsoni_ | Lemon-yellow, spotted. | .. ..
| |
| |
*_Alice Wilson_ | Clear lemon-yellow. | { Very curious. The best of the
| | { yellow varieties.
| |
_Bicolor_ | Orange. | A poor form.
| |
_Brevifolium_ | Dirty orange, spotted. | A poor form.
| |
| | { Inferior to the other deep red
*_Incomparabilis_ | Deep red, spotted. | { varieties, but bearing larger
| | { blossoms.
| |
--------------------+----------------------------------+------------------------------------
[Illustration]
THE HOUSE WITH THE VERANDAH.
BY ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO, Author of “Other People’s Stairs,” “Her Object
in Life,” etc.