EDWARD BOWEN
 
 EDWABD BOWEN 
 
 A MEMOIR 
 
 BY THE 
 
 EEV. THE HON. W. E. BOWEN, M.A. 
 
 WITH APPENDICES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 All rights reserred
 
 ' KINDLINESS AND NEIGHBOURHOOD, AND CHILD-LIFE, 
 AND THE FEESH WIND OF HEAVEN . . . AND THE SUN- 
 BREAK UPON THE STAINLESS PEAKS, AND CONTEMPT OF 
 WRONG, AND PAIN, AND DEATH.'
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 THIS memoir of Edward Bowen is written to meet 
 the needs of two classes of readers : the first, his 
 old friends and pupils ; the second, scientific educa- 
 tionists. It is for the sake of the first that I have 
 dwelt, at what may seem to some rather dispropor- 
 tionate length, upon his work before * youth had 
 grown to man.' But I am confident that those who 
 cared for him not as a leader of his profession but as 
 one by whose side they ' trod the rough path of the 
 world,' and whom they loved and admired with a love 
 and admiration that they have given to few others 
 however near and dear to them, will wish to have 
 these specimens of his earlier power and talent. 
 As regards the educationists, the memoir will, I 
 hope, show them a man pre-eminent among Public 
 School Masters, even in a survey of the last hun- 
 dred years, who in some things differed widely from 
 commonly received opinions, and entertained ideals 
 which have yet to find their full expression in 
 general practice. Edward Bowen's influence has 
 been very great at Harrow, but it has yet to be 
 fully felt through all the length and breadth of the 
 scholastic world. 
 
 The responsibility for this memoir was offered to 
 
 2067369
 
 VI 
 
 two of his colleagues, and it was only when they felt 
 unable to accept it, that it passed to me, his nephew. 
 I have in writing it laboured under one serious dis- 
 advantage ; though an old Harrovian, I was never in 
 Edward Bowen's house or form. I have therefore 
 had to depend on others to make good what was 
 lacking in these respects. But none surpassed my- 
 self in one qualification in affection for him ; and 
 I may perhaps add that during the last years of his 
 life I knew him very intimately. 
 
 I need not mention seriatim those colleagues and 
 pupils of Edward Bowen who have helped me in this 
 task, and without whose willing assistance it could 
 never have been accomplished. The usual expres- 
 sions of thanks have a formal air, and I am there- 
 fore unwilling to use them to those who have assisted 
 me in these outlines of a portrait of one of the noblest 
 and best men whom any of us has ever been privi- 
 leged to know. It will have been to them, as to me, 
 a sad pleasure to do whatever could be done by us for 
 the memory of one who will always hold a place by 
 himself in our recollections. We are only too well 
 aware that we l shall not look upon his like again.' 
 
 I owe it to the courteous co-operation of Messrs. 
 Macmillan, Messrs. Chapman & Hall, the Editor of 
 the ' Journal of Education/ and the Controller of 
 His Majesty's Stationery Office, --that I have been 
 able to make use of some of the matter which is 
 included in this volume. 
 
 W. E. B.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGK 
 
 PEEFATOEY NOTE v 
 
 MEMOIR .... 1 
 
 APPENDICES 
 ESSAYS : 
 
 I. THE INFLUENCE OF SCENERY ON NATIONAL CHARACTER . 263 
 
 II. THE FORCE OF HABIT 280 
 
 MODERN WAR - 297 
 
 ON TEACHING BY MEANS OF GRAMMAR .... 302 
 THE PROPOSED CONTROL OF THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS BY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITIES 316 
 
 GAMES 328 
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PARIS, 1871 336 
 
 EVIDENCE BEFORE THE EOYAL COMMISSION ON SECONDARY 
 
 EDUCATION ON JULY 25, 1894 357 
 
 IX. ARNOLDIDES CHIFFERS ; OR, THE ATTITUDE OF THE 
 
 SCHOOLMASTER 369 
 
 SONGS AND VEESES: 
 
 I. FORTY YEARS ON 376 
 
 II. LYON OF PRESTON 377 
 
 III. EALEIOfH 378 
 
 IV. QUEEN ELIZABETH 379 
 
 V. ST. JOLES 380 
 
 VI. SHE WAS A SHEPHERDESS 381 
 
 VII. GRANDPAPA'S GRANDPAPA 382 
 
 VIII. ' BYRON LAY '.-.... . . 383 
 
 IX. GIANTS . 384 
 
 X. OCTOBER . . . . / 385
 
 Vlll 
 
 SONGS AND VERSES -continued : 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XL 
 
 EUCLID 
 
 . 386 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE BELL 
 
 . . 387 
 
 XIII. 
 
 UNDERNEATH THE BRINY SEA 
 
 . 388 
 
 XIV. 
 
 SOBER DICK 
 
 . . 389 
 
 XV. 
 
 WILLOW THE KING .... 
 
 . 391 
 
 XVI. 
 
 JUNE AND THE SCHOLAR .... 
 
 . . 392 
 
 XVII. 
 
 CATS AND DOGS 
 
 . 393 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 FAIRIES 
 
 . . 393 
 
 XIX. 
 
 JACK AND JOE 
 
 . 395 
 
 XX. 
 
 WIMBLEDON, 1879 
 
 . . 396 
 
 XXI. 
 
 LARRY 
 
 . 397 
 
 XXII. 
 
 ROOKS 
 
 . . 398 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 DOWN THE HILL 
 
 . 399 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 AWAKE ! 
 
 . . 399 
 
 XXV. 
 
 GOOD NIGHT 
 
 . 400 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 
 . . 401 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 THE NINER 
 
 . 403 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 PLUMP A LUMP 
 
 . . 404 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 TOM 
 
 . 404 
 
 XXX. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN'S A-BOWLING . 
 
 . . 406 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 
 . 407 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 MANY YEARS AGO 
 
 . . 407 
 
 LORD'S, 1873 . ........ 408 
 
 LORD'S, 1878 . . . . 409 
 
 LORD'S, 1900 . .410 
 
 FROM THE VISITORS' BOOK, BUTTERMERE INN, CRUMMOCKWATER 411 
 
 AN EPISODE OF BALACLAVA . . . . .... . 412 
 
 P. L. C ; ' . . . . . 413 
 
 SHEMUEL . . . . ... . . . . 414 
 
 R. G 415 
 
 F. P. 416
 
 ILLTJSTBATIONS 
 
 PORTRAIT OF EDWARD E. BOWEN, WITH AUTOGRAPH . Frontispiece 
 
 PORTRAIT AT THE AGE OF ABOUT 25 YEARS . . . to face p. 56 
 
 PORTRAIT AT THE AGE OF ABOUT 35 YEARS ... 132 
 
 ' THE GROVE ' 194 
 
 A ' CELEBRATION TEA ' IN THE GARDEN AT ' THE GROVE ' 216
 
 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 EMINENCE as a public schoolmaster would not by itself 
 necessarily justify a memoir of the work of a lifetime. 
 There are many men in the front rank of our educational 
 army showing important qualities a power of organisation, 
 a capacity for discipline, a gift for teaching, a character 
 which elicits loyalty and affection who would not have any 
 very strong claim, even in these days when ' of making books 
 there is no end,' to a biographical record of their labours 
 and successes. And if the best that could be said of Edward 
 Bowen were that he was one of those excellent and high- 
 minded masters to whom we owe the value of our public 
 school system, it might well have been felt that his life 
 should have been allowed to pass out of human sight with- 
 out any further memorial than private affection and esteem. 
 But when one who is not merely eminent, but in some 
 respects almost unique, dies after long years of public service 
 years marked by striking and attractive attainments of 
 various kinds it is only right and fitting that some attempt 
 should be made to extend the circle of those who hitherto 
 have felt, it may be his force and power, it may be his charm 
 and persuasiveness, by some sketch of him, even though it 
 be but a comparatively slight one ; nor is the justification of 
 such a sketch any the less complete on the contrary, the 
 case behind it is strengthened if, as in the present instance, 
 the man of whom it is a brief account was, from the very 
 nature of his work and calling, known only to a few, in 
 comparison with the many who are acquainted with the 
 name of a leading statesman or a victorious general. A 
 master at a public school scarcely occupies a very prominent 
 
 B
 
 2 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 place in the eyes of the nation at large, unless indeed he 
 ventures out of his own proper sphere into some other, such 
 as politics or theology. As a schoolmaster, however, he is 
 known well enough by those who have the desire and the 
 opportunity to make themselves conversant with the inner 
 working of the great educational machine ; but to the out- 
 side world he is known, either not at all, or only very super- 
 ficially. Especially is this the case if he never takes a head- 
 mastership, and is always in theory no more than one of the 
 ordinary rank and file. The present memoir is of a man who 
 was from first to last an assistant master, though for many 
 years he was responsible for the separate organisation and 
 direction of an important side of the school work. At the 
 same time it is an account of a man who is felt by almost all 
 who were brought into real contact with him to have been 
 largely unlike anyone else, to have possessed qualities and 
 gifts, powers and capacities, which were of most remarkable 
 worth and brilliance, and such as hardly any men even 
 when a long period of time is allowed for the comparison 
 can claim to share with him. 
 
 Doubtless there were some sides to Edward Bowen 
 which, taken one by one, could be more or less easily 
 paralleled. Not a few men have been excellent scholars 
 and have possessed literary gifts ; many men have gained the 
 regard and confidence of their colleagues or subordinates ; 
 many men have shown a power of genuine friendship ; many 
 men have been able to win the love of those younger, even 
 much younger, than themselves, and to retain that exquisite 
 sympathy with child-life which we never see without being 
 touched by it ; many men have been able to lighten 
 drudgery and to add interest to labour. In possessing one 
 or another of these qualities Edward Bowen was not more 
 than the equal of others, and stood neither by himself nor 
 with only two or three about him. But his pre-eminence lay 
 in this that the characteristics attaching to him were pos- 
 sessed by him, both in a rare degree severally and at the 
 same time in a rare combination. It is because of this that 
 he stands out so far from his associates and contemporaries. 
 Thus he had a striking power of discipline and government,
 
 A MEMOIE 3 
 
 as striking perhaps as that of Vaughan. As a source of 
 moral inspiration he was scarcely second to Arnold, while as 
 a teacher he was much superior to Arnold. He had the 
 vigour, the energy, the manly hardihood of Thring. He had 
 all the classical scholarship, all the literary delicacy and grace, 
 of the present Dr. H. M. Butler. Such a combination of 
 characteristics would by itself have produced a very impressive 
 personality ; but Edward Bowen's personality was made up 
 of more qualities even than these. He possessed many 
 interests beyond literature and scholarship, and was more or 
 less proficient in the subjects connected with them. He 
 was a good astronomer and a fair mathematician. He had a 
 wide acquaintance with military history, and knew of the 
 Napoleonic period as much, perhaps, as any Englishman 
 living. He was enough of a Biblical critic to keep pace 
 with most modern discussions upon questions of authorship, 
 date, integrity, interpretation. He was a keen politician, 
 and deeply interested in all social, and to some extent in all 
 ecclesiastical, reforms. He was a song-writer who, in his 
 own line, was unequalled. He was a vigorous athlete 
 a splendid walker, a zealous oar, an indefatigable foot- 
 ball player, a good cricketer. The ' Times ' and ' Daily 
 Graphic ' brought each summer morning the interest of 
 county scores as well as of Parliamentary debates or of 
 foreign telegrams, and he followed the career of some 
 batsman or bowler with the same closeness and keen- 
 ness as the development of some political or industrial 
 question. 
 
 But to these things sufficiently remarkable by them-^- 
 selves Edward Bowen added a character of the rarest beauty 
 and purity. He was a man of deep lovableness, capable of 
 giving to others, and of drawing to himself from others, 
 intense affection. He combined simple and unpretending 
 goodness with lofty aims and the most exalted idealism. 
 His friends turned to him upon any question of morals 
 or duty or honour with an assurance that was absolute. 
 He was virtually a father confessor to most of his colleagues, 
 both old and young. No man, again, ever possessed in a 
 higher degree the quality of self-forgetfulness. ' Surely,' 
 
 B 2
 
 4 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 wrote the present Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, 
 immediately after Edward Bowen's death, ' a more gracious, 
 brilliant, lovable spirit has rarely been given to the earth, 
 as if to suggest that unselfishness does not always imply 
 a preliminary struggle.' It has been surmised indeed that 
 the ' preliminary struggle ' may perhaps have taken place in 
 him also somewhere, somewhen, unnoticed and unknown ; 
 but, if that were so, the victory was complete. He was, 
 too, deeply and sincerely religious. It was characteristic of 
 him to direct in his will that no memorial should be raised 
 to him ; it was equally characteristic to make the exception 
 that a small cross might be placed at the head of his grave. 
 He never, indeed, brought forward his religious feelings into 
 the glare of public notice ; but those who knew him really 
 well, and who walked in intimacy with him along the even 
 tenour of his way, whether at Cambridge or at Harrow, saw 
 at times the unmistakable evidences of an intensely spiritual 
 y nature. His religious life has been picturesquely and aptly 
 compared by one, who was almost a life-long friend, 1 to the 
 Spanish river the Guadiana, 
 
 which plunges at a certain point in its course below the ground, 
 but throws up thereafter to the surface, at one place and at 
 another, certain bubbling pools, called by the natives with uncon- 
 scious poetry the ' eyes of the Guadiana.' They are only pools, 
 but they prove that the stately river is pursuing an uninterrupted 
 course below. So was it with the religion of Edward Bowen. 
 
 Once again, there was over all over scholarship, and 
 government, and lessons, and games, and the intercourse of 
 personal friendship, and the vigour of life, and the charm of 
 loving-kindness the almost continuous sunshine of his 
 humour and gaiety. He was capable of feeling intensely 
 sorrow and disappointment no man more so ; but the signs 
 and traces of sorrow and disappointment w^ere, as a rule, 
 deliberately and carefully hidden away under a covering 
 of reserve which was rarely withdrawn, even before the 
 sympathy of attached and intimate friends. Outwardly his 
 life was marked by an almost unfailing appreciation of fun 
 
 1 Mr. B. Bosworth Smith, in an article in The Harrovian, May 18, 1901.
 
 A MEMOIE 5 
 
 and merriment and laughter. Indeed, it has been said of 
 this characteristic in him that it was this alone which 
 rendered possible the extremely strict character of some of 
 his discipline ; but there the characteristic was, prominent 
 on most occasions ; and he largely received, as he unquestion- 
 ably deserved, the benefit of it. 
 
 And all this brilliance, all this breadth of learning, all 
 this beauty of character, all this power of rule, all this 
 capacity for guiding and inspiring others, all this grandeur of 
 example, were given by him with glad and willing whole- 
 heartedness to the School with which his name will always 
 be connected. Now and again, it is true, his ambitions 
 turned away from ' the daily round, the common task,' to 
 the House of Commons, and to the attractions which others 
 found there. More than once the question of candidature 
 was seriously considered in connection with some particular 
 constituency. On one occasion he fought during the Easter 
 holidays a severely contested election ; but when fate decided 
 in each case against him, he was content to go on in his 
 calling for the last fifteen or sixteen years of his life with a 
 loyalty that was perfect. 
 
 Shall we deem his devotion too narrow 
 For gifts so commanding and rare ? 
 
 Enough that his heart was in Harrow, 
 And he gave it unquestioning there. 1 
 
 His chief love in life was for Harrow, and we may well 
 believe that it was a love which grew and deepened with 
 advancing years, as brothers and friends passed away from 
 him, and before him ' saw the Uncreated.' The supremacy 
 of Harrow in his affections and interests was never challenged 
 by wife and children, for he was never married. And when, 
 at the age of sixty-five, the end suddenly came just such an 
 end as he would, in all probability, have chosen for himself 
 it was the School that found itself in the place of his eldest 
 son. Of others, who had in his judgment claims upon him, 
 he was indeed generously mindful, but the greater portion 
 of his property passed, as was meet and right, to Harrow. 
 
 1 Memorial Verses, by E. W. H.
 
 6 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 The privilege of writing the record of such a life is 
 obviously one attended by no little difficulty. It is almost, 
 if not quite, impossible to give upon paper any adequate 
 impression of a personality which was not only out of the 
 common, but without its likeness elsewhere. The delicate 
 tricks of gesture and expression, the constant flashes of fun, 
 the little idiosyncrasies, can no more be written down by the 
 biographer than they could in old days have been portrayed 
 by the photographer. An old pupil, in an article upon him, 1 
 said with not less truth than pathos : 
 
 Bowen cannot be reproduced in writing, any more than he 
 will ever be reproduced in the actual world. His great unlike- 
 ness to anyone else that ever was, or ever will be, makes the 
 special bitterness of this occasion: therein death has its sting, 
 and the grave its victory. The tragedy is not, as often in the 
 case of other men more famous but more ordinary, that he left a 
 great thing undone ; but simply that he has ceased to be. 
 
 A memoir, therefore, which attempts to describe a man 
 who was in some ways indescribable, is bound to be in part 
 a failure ; and it is no easy task to keep that failure from 
 being complete. 
 
 Again, such a life as Edward Bowen's clearly does not 
 lend itself to any minute and detailed account. One day was, 
 as a rule, much like another. The correspondence was 
 generally little more than notes exchanged on school busi- 
 ness. No great dramatic incidents will make their way into 
 the record. The fortunes of a church, or of an empire, or of 
 a large section of the community, will never be felt by the 
 reader to be at stake. The story is of the life of one whose 
 profession brought him into no situations of national crisis, 
 and required of him the solution of none of those problems of 
 state which determine the composition of a parliament or 
 the fate of a cabinet. But this memoir derives from one 
 attribute of Edward Bowen's life a great advantage. It is 
 the memoir of a man whose work was not chipped and broken 
 into fragments, but was complete and entire. He com- 
 
 1 Mr. G. M. Trevelyan, in The Harrovian, May 18, 1901. Much of the 
 article is quoted later on in connection with Edward Bowen's work as a house- 
 master
 
 A MEMOIE 7 
 
 menced his career as a Harrow master at the age of twenty- 
 four; and when 'forty years on' he fell dead in the 
 presence of two intimate friends, on an unfrequented road 
 in a beautiful part of the Cote d'Or, he was still a Harrow 
 master. The shadow of resignation was, it is true, beginning 
 to fall across his path. He had, indeed, not done more than 
 intimate, somewhat informally, a wish to give up his house 
 and to confine himself to teaching in form ; but for a man 
 midway between sixty and seventy there is no long period of 
 school-work remaining, even under the most favourable cir- 
 cumstances and conditions. And it was the sense of this 
 the recognition that the call of calls did not come in its 
 sudden swiftness until all was nearly ' finished ' which in 
 a measure comforted friends and colleagues and old pupils 
 when the unexpected news came. If death steps in and 
 closes a career only partly developed, its presence is especially 
 painful and distressing. But there was no thought of such 
 premature intrusion in connection with the death of Edward 
 Bowen. The perplexity and mystery which sometimes hang 
 like a great cloud over a summons by Providence to another 
 world were here wholly absent. The ways of God were 
 patent and clear, and needed not that faith should struggle 
 with an attempted explanation of them, nor that pious sub- 
 mission should take the place of a reasonable understanding. 
 In the spring of 1901 Edward Bowen's life-work was rapidly 
 drawing to its close. His contribution towards the needs of 
 his generation had been obviously paid in full even ' to the 
 uttermost farthing.' And therefore this memoir is the narra- 
 tive of a life which was complete ; and there is no need to 
 dwell on the manner and degree in which the record gains 
 from the fact.
 
 EDWARD ERNEST BOWEN was born on March 30, 1836, 
 being fifteen months junior to his brother Charles, afterwards 
 Lord Bowen. His second brother, Frank, was several 
 years younger. 1 His father, the Eev. Christopher Bowen, 
 was the eldest representative of an Irish family holding 
 property in county Mayo, and was distinguished by many 
 of the best characteristics of the Evangelical school of those 
 days devotion, spirituality, a hearty dislike of ecclesiasticism, 
 profound earnestness, unquestionable sincerity. He was also 
 very gentle and affectionate, full of sympathy with the trials 
 of others, full of compassion for their failures or mistakes. 
 Sir Henry Cunningham, in his memoir of Lord Bowen, has 
 referred to him as ' an excellent reader, whose children en- 
 joyed no greater treat than to lie on the hearthrug and listen 
 to his rendering of one of Shakespeare's plays.' He was, too, 
 one whose able mind remained fresh and active with advanc- 
 ing years. When he was quite an old man he read ' The 
 Kernel and the Husk,' and wrote, in a private letter to a 
 young clergyman who was troubled by the book, a careful 
 and clear criticism of it. It may be added, in view of the 
 striking poetical gifts of his two elder sons, that he was a 
 somewhat copious writer of verses, both humorous and 
 sentimental verses which were at times of no mean order. 
 He died on the Riviera in 1890. Edward Bowen's mother 
 survived him and all her three sons. She was a daughter of 
 Sir Richard and Lady Steele ; the former being an Irish 
 baronet, and the latter a daughter of Count d' Alton. From 
 
 1 He died in early manhood. He was inferior in scholarship to his 
 brothers, though not, perhaps, in athletic capacities, for he was captain of the 
 Winchester eleven. Never, perhaps, has any man been more dearly loved by 
 relations and friends than he.
 
 A MEMOIE 9 
 
 their mother the sons doubtless gained their tenacity of 
 purpose and strength of will qualities which she inherited 
 in no small measure from Lady Steele ; while she also gave 
 to them what was, in her younger and happier days, her 
 bright and merry disposition. She held the religious views 
 of her husband with uncompromising consistency, possessing 
 with him all that was best and most worth having in that 
 type of thought and Biblical interpretation. She died at the 
 age of ninety-four, having outlived her son Edward less than 
 twelve months. 
 
 Edward Bowen came, therefore, from a home which was 
 full of the atmosphere of Evangelicalism. It might well 
 have been the case that spiritual excitement and even 
 distress should be connected with his education ; but the 
 religious influence of father and mother was, though con- 
 tinuous and persistent, quiet and sensible, and was wholly 
 free from any traces of the more painful Calvinistic spirit. 
 From that influence Edward Bowen never altogether cut 
 himself adrift. He was, it is true, in the days of his man- 
 hood, widely separated from Evangelical orthodoxy ; and 
 this change of religious position must no doubt have been the 
 cause of sincere regret to those to whom Evangelicalism was 
 especially dear and important ; but there always remained 
 between him and his father some bond of religious sympathy, 
 and the younger man would sing hymns with the elder long 
 after any actual intercommunion in doctrinal ideas and 
 beliefs had become difficult or impossible. There is a story 
 told of Edward Bowen's childhood, which, though very 
 trivial, illustrates in some slight degree both his own early 
 conscientiousness and the religious character of the home. 
 He was found one Sunday afternoon, either in the school- 
 room or in the* nursery, with a portion of the room carefully 
 marked off with a piece of string. He gave as his reason 
 that he desired to keep himself from the temptation of look- 
 ing out of the window. Even in these early years the 
 unselfishness of his character came out. If he and his 
 elder brother ever quarrelled in the nursery and required 
 punishment, he would offer his mother writes to bear it 
 for both.
 
 10 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 The two brothers left home while still quite young 
 nine and ten years of age respectively. Mrs. Bowen was in 
 ill health, and it was in consequence thought better to send 
 the boys to an establishment at Lille. Here they stayed for 
 twelve months, but were not, it would seem, very happy, and 
 it is plain from a letter which Charles Bowen wrote home that 
 they were much overworked ' We have ten hours of lessons 
 in the day.' Some very brief reminiscences of that time of 
 exile, contributed by Edward Bowen to the memoir of his 
 brother, show how advanced the two children were in their 
 English reading. ' Our books were few, but very well read. 
 Two volumes of Johnson's complete works were a great 
 treasure, and the "Rambler" and "Idler;" of course all 
 Scott, and as much Shakespeare and Spenser as [we] could 
 understand. ' 1 On their return to England they went together 
 to a good day-school in South London, where Mr. Christopher 
 Bowen had charge of a district. Here they were well 
 taught, but they had to leave when their parents went to 
 live at Blackheath, the mother's health being still unsatis- 
 factory and not permitting her to continue in the noisy and 
 narrow streets of Southwark. At Blackheath the two boys 
 went to a proprietary school kept by the Rev. E. J. Selwyn, 
 father of the present headmaster of Uppingham. Edward 
 Bowen afterwards, when examining his old school, wrote of 
 its chief in the report which he drew up : 
 
 You will allow me, in conclusion, to express my sincere wish 
 for the continued prosperity of the school, which it has been 
 no small satisfaction to revisit as examiner, and to perceive 
 flourishing under the auspices of the headmaster, to whom I 
 myself owe the greatest and most important part of my own 
 classical education. 
 
 The two boys certainly did as well as possible under his 
 supervision and guidance, eventually out-distancing all their 
 competitors ; and it seems to have been largely, if not 
 entirely, due to this lack of serious competition that their 
 withdrawal took place, Mr. Selwyn himself recommending 
 it in a call that he paid to their mother. ' My dear Mrs. 
 
 1 Lord Bowen by Sir H. Cunningham, p. 16.
 
 A MEMOIE 11 
 
 Bowen, you must take your boys away from Blackheath.' 
 ' I hope,' she replied, a little startled, ' they have not mis- 
 behaved themselves.' ' Quite the reverse,' was the answer ; 
 ' they are far ahead of the school and give the other boys no 
 chance. They would require a wheel-barrow to carry away 
 their prizes.' These days together at Blackheath lasted 
 from 1846 to 1850. Of Edward Bowen, during that period, 
 an old schoolfellow 1 writes : 
 
 Certainly through all that time he was the best-beloved boy in 
 the school. So sweet and unassuming was his disposition that, 
 though in each successive form he was facile princeps, albeit 
 junior to most, no one ever begrudged him his position. His 
 readiness to help ' lame dogs ' was unfailing. His temper was so 
 naturally amiable, or so completely under control, that I feel sure 
 no one ever saw him ruffled or striking an angry blow. Yet he 
 was a manly boy, always taking his share of knocks right cheer- 
 fully. I do not think he reached the First Eleven, but he was 
 good at games ; though it was left for Cambridge and Harrow to 
 carry him on to ' Excellent.' I left school in 1850. That neither 
 he nor I up to that time got into the Sixth was simply due to the 
 fact that our elder brothers were there ; and it was then judged 
 better to keep brothers apart, though in this case there was no 
 fear of either of the juniors surpassing his senior. His preference 
 was always for boys of gentlemanly tone and pure mind, and he 
 got into no scrapes. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn's own personal testimonial, written by him 
 at the close of these school-days, need not be quoted in full ; 
 but in it he speaks of his pupil's ' high moral worth,' of his 
 talent, which is ' very far indeed above the average,' of his 
 surprising skill and accuracy, of ' his devotion to his studies,' 
 and ends : 
 
 I have every" confidence in saying that if his health be spared, 
 under God's blessing, he will give to all those under whose care 
 he may come from time to time such satisfaction as they do not 
 commonly receive from a pupil. For myself, I may say that, 
 except Edward Bowen's elder brother, Charles, who is carrying 
 all before him at Eugby, I never had such a pupil, and scarcely 
 expect to meet ever with his superior. 
 
 1 Eev. A. Wood, Rector of Great Ponton, near Grantham.
 
 12 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 In the latter part of 1850, the two brothers were sepa- 
 rated ; nor did their educational careers join again at any 
 subsequent period. The elder went, late in that year, to 
 Kugby, and afterwards to Balliol College, Oxford ; while the 
 younger, after remaining some twelve months longer at 
 Blackheath, passed in the Lent Term of 1852 to King's 
 College, London; and thence in the autumn of 1854 to 
 Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 
 Unfortunately no personal reminiscences of him by fellow - 
 students are available in connection with the years which he 
 spent at King's College, London. It is known, however, 
 that his health was not always satisfactory ; and there 
 appears to have been, at one time, some reason for anxiety 
 as to the state of his lungs an anxiety for which there was 
 still further cause later on. His career, none the less, was a 
 brilliant one. The year of his entrance he obtained the 
 prize for Latin verses ; and he repeated the triumph in 1853 
 and 1854. It is presumably to this last year that the story 
 belongs of his sending in three different compositions under 
 different mottoes, and of each being adjudged worthy of the 
 prize. In that year, too, he obtained the senior classical 
 scholarship, as well as the Plumptre prizes for original 
 English verse and for translation. He also gained the 
 London University Exhibition, and later on, while a 
 Cambridge undergraduate, the Bachelorship. In 1861, after 
 his brilliant career at Trinity was concluded, he was elected 
 a Fellow of King's College, and retained his Fellowship until 
 his death. 
 
 It was at King's College that he first began to show his 
 power of English composition. There had been a magazine 
 at Blackheath, but he appears to have taken little or no 
 part in it. To the 'King's College Magazine,' however, he 
 contributed on several occasions and with much success. 
 Examples of his work at this period will be read with interest 
 by those who knew him in later years. ' They exhibit/ writes 
 a correspondent, 1 ' his varied powers in the bud, and are 
 
 1 Rev. Andrew Wood, with whom during this period Edward Bowen kept up 
 a continuous and intimate correspondence, but who was unfortunately no 
 longer a fellow-student.
 
 A MEMOIR 13 
 
 not unworthy of the future author of " The Eighteenth 
 Middlesex " and the " Harrow Songs," for which I predict 
 an immortality.' 
 
 ' The Ballad of Orcetes,' by ' Publi[c]us Stultus Menti- 
 tor,' has attached to it in the original manuscript, though not 
 in the printed version, a laudatory notice from ' Eomana 
 Tempora,' in which, however, it is pointed out (no doubt 
 with truth) that the author is guilty of an anachronism in 
 making his characters now and then talk Latin. The 
 Ballad, in its entirety, is too long for insertion ; but quota- 
 tions may be extracted which will give the reader an adequate 
 idea of the merry gaiety, as well as of the cleverness, of the 
 whole. 
 
 Oroetes so runs the plot wishes to be tyrant of Sardis, 
 but cannot obtain his desires. 
 
 Orcetes lounged on his sofa one day, 
 
 Sucking an orange and sipping cafe ; 
 
 For his chief occupation (excepting in war, 
 
 And kicking and thumping his slaves, et tout cela) 
 
 Was oranges, caf&, and then dolcefar. 
 
 He had soldiers, and horses, and money had he ; 
 
 He had slaves, he had vassals in short, a whole lot o' men ; 
 
 And being a kind of a Turk, as you see, 
 
 No wonder at all he reclined on an ottoman. 
 
 But spite of his riches, and fashion, and style, 
 
 The Satrap was very ambitious the while, 
 
 And did nothing but sigh 
 
 The whole day and cry 
 
 1 Mehercle ! This problem confoundedly hard is : 
 What on earth shall I do to be tyrant of Sardis ? ' 
 
 An interlude follows in which a visitor calls, and Oroetes 
 takes the opportunity of speaking of his hatred of one 
 Polycrates, the ruler of Samos. 
 
 ' I've been so upset. That Polycrates there 
 
 Has insulted my herald.' 'What? Who? How? When? 
 
 Where?' 
 
 ' I just sent my herald to ask him to dinner, 
 And meet a few friends ; when, with very bad grace, 
 And turning about with a shrug, the old sinner 
 Presented the very reverse of bis face ! '
 
 14 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 ' Mecastor ! why, you 
 
 Don't mean it ! ' 'I do.' 
 ' Well, all that I say is, 
 I'd take him.' ' Quid ais ? ' 
 ' If I only were you, it's what I wouldn't stand ; 
 I'd take Samos at once. The man cannot defend her.' 
 Oroetes on this put his head on his hand, 
 His hand on his knee, and his knee on the fender, 
 And said not a word, but stared straight at the fire ; 
 His visitor then thought it time to retire. 
 
 The results of Oroetes' meditations are found in an invita- 
 tion to Polycrates to come and visit him, the proposed object 
 being an inspection of a box of Australian gold just received 
 from the diggings. Polycrates accepts the invitation ' as 
 careless as Topsy.' [' An amusing character,' explains a 
 footnote, ' in a popular romance, " Patrui Thomasii Casa," 
 which had lately appeared at Rome.'] 
 
 When he came to the shore 
 
 To Oroetes, before 
 They had time to shake hands, he began to harangue him 
 
 On the price of the gold ; 
 
 But Oroetes just told 
 A few of his servants to take him, and hang him. 
 
 Oh ! how he did cry, 
 
 ' Eheu ! VCR mihi ! 
 
 You horrible rascal ! you son of a Jew ! 
 You man of three letters ! you carnufex, you ! 
 Oh, please, go away ! oh ! hullabaloo ! ' 
 But with all his loud clamour he could not prevent em, 
 So they took him, and left him there collo pendentem. 
 
 Seven years pass, and the curtain again rises upon 
 Oroetes. 
 
 Orcetes lounged on his sofa one day, 
 
 Sucking an orange and sipping cafe 
 
 Seven long years had passed away, 
 
 And his hair had changed from black to grey, 
 
 And his whole appearance was quite pass6. 
 
 His visage was sour as gooseberry wine ; 
 
 From his face tempus edax had taken the shine ;
 
 A MEMOIK 15 
 
 His eyes, too, were sanguine et igne suffecti, 
 And he hadn't, in fact, the mens conscia recti. 
 To be tyrant was nevertheless his endeavour, 
 For crafty he was, and ambitious as ever. 
 
 He, however, is not destined to succeed. He kills 
 another rival, and is called to account by Darius, who sends 
 a messenger to him to demand the money found on his 
 victim. The messenger is first ' despatched ' by Oroates with 
 fair words, but is immediately afterwards ' despatched ' in 
 another sense, and Darius determines to avenge the murder 
 of his agent, and sets out to do so. Sardis is taken, and 
 Oroetes, in attempting to escape, is killed by a slave whom 
 he had often ill treated. 
 
 MORAL 
 
 There's a moral in everything under the sun, 
 
 So I'll just, if you please, tell you mine and have done : 
 
 You may learn from this story of cruel Orcetes 
 
 That by alterum Icedens, te ipsum tu Icedes ; 
 
 But the lesson I wish you to take most to heart is, 
 
 Mind you never attempt to be tyrant of Sardis. 
 
 Allusion has been made to Edward Bowen's success 
 in Latin verses ; and another of his contributions to the 
 Magazine is upon this subject, being entitled, ' Modern Latin 
 Poetry.' The age of the writer (seventeen) must, as before, 
 be remembered in reading the essay, though its workmanship 
 would undoubtedly have done credit to an older and riper 
 scholar, and manifests on the part of the youthful author a 
 close acquaintance with a branch of literature of which, as 
 an almost invajiable rule, boys and even undergraduates, 
 although they may have high classical attainments, are 
 wholly ignorant. 
 
 He begins by dividing Latin verse-writing since the 
 classical age 
 
 into three eras, the first comprehending Calpurnius, Avienus, 
 and the other writers until the general darkness consequent upon 
 the fall of Borne ; the next, those of the Middle Ages, when men
 
 16 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 wrote about themselves and began epic poems ; the third, which 
 we may more appropriately call the period of modern Latin 
 poetry, commences at, or soon after, the Reformation, which 
 preceded a revival, as of other arts, so also of that of which we 
 are speaking. 
 
 It is with this last epoch that his article deals, and he 
 takes as its representatives Milton, Gray, Addison, and 
 Bourne, ' whose writings present such peculiarities of style 
 as may enable us to compare them together.' The greater 
 portion of his remarks upon each may be quoted, as showing 
 his striking capacity for literary appreciation and criticism 
 even at this comparatively early age. 
 
 The Latin poems of Milton which have been handed down to 
 us consist of one book of Elegies, one of Epigrams, and a ' Sil- 
 varum Liber.' Of these, the Epigrams, though the fifth and sixth 
 are well written, will hardly repay a continuous perusal. We 
 confine our notice, therefore, to the Elegies and the ' Silvarum.' 
 In the former, the chief thing aimed at appears to have been neat- 
 ness. There is no greatness, though some originality, of thought ; 
 but the verses flow with an ease and gracefulness which are now 
 not often attained. We are afraid there is a false quantity here 
 and there ; but false quantities can be pardoned when we have 
 such beautiful lines as those to Charles Deodati, an intimate 
 friend of the author ; indeed, the whole book is written with a 
 taste and polish which entirely do away with the unpleasant 
 halting generally occasioned by the elegiac couplet. The ' Sil- 
 varum Liber ' opens with a Greek translation, which, though it 
 ought not properly to come under our notice at present, is, we 
 cannot refrain from saying, one of the most successful productions 
 of its kind that we have ever met with. Of the poems themselves, 
 we may safely say that they equal the Elegies in facility of ex- 
 pression, and surpass them in greatness of thought. There are 
 one or two which form an exception to this standard ; but, on the 
 whole, they present as faultless a collection as we possess. The 
 three best are the poem on the 5th of November, which, however, 
 is too historical to be thoroughly pleasing ; the Epitaph of Damon, 
 which almost, if not quite, equals Virgil's Eclogues ; and, best of 
 all, the magnificent address, ' Ad Patrem,' which we have no hesi- 
 tation in calling the greatest of modern Latin poems. The 
 epilogue to this and to the Elegies are not to be surpassed by 
 ancient or modern writers. Altogether, these writings of Milton
 
 A MEMOIE 17 
 
 breathe such a spirit of classicality though he was no plagiarist 
 that we feel inclined to rank their author above Gray and 
 Addison, who, we think, hold the next place. Milton was a poet 
 under Cromwell ; he would have been one under Augustus. 
 
 The ' Poemata ' of Gray form a striking contrast to his 
 English effusions : the latter are full of wildness, and in some 
 parts even of majesty : of the former the chief characteristic is 
 tameness, though the lines are not ungraceful. We are told, too, 
 that when publishing his English poems, Gray only produced the 
 very best pieces of all that he had written ; in the Latin poems, 
 on the other hand, he seems to have brought out every line that he 
 had written, even printing single stanzas by themselves. These 
 works all display a great amount of scholarship ; he seems to 
 have been rather proud of being able to imitate, and here and 
 there actually to copy, Virgil in whole lines and sentences. 
 Everything that he has written shows extensive classical reading, 
 and the fragment of his Didactic Poem shows that he had studied 
 Lucretius to some purpose ; but the piece by which he ought 
 fairly to be judged is his ' hymeneal ' on the marriage of the 
 Prince of Wales. This is written in first-rate style, but expressed 
 in by no means original Latin. 
 
 We will not make any long stay with Addison, for the opinion 
 we have formed of him is somewhat different from that commonly 
 entertained. He seems to produce a grand idea, though not 
 frequently or a beautiful line, which often occurs merely for 
 the purpose of spoiling it by some tasteless allusion or expression 
 shocking to classical ears. We are actually astonished at a man 
 who could write such really good poetry as parts of ' William III.' 
 and then finish a hexameter with ' picturarum vulgus inane.' This 
 characteristic chiefly appears in the poems on the picture of the 
 Eesurrection, and that on a Puppet-show. His Alcaic Odes are 
 his best compositions ; it is somewhat singular that in that 
 addressed to Dr. Burnett, we can trace an idea or expression out 
 of Horace in every stanza. 
 
 Lastly, we come to Vincent Bourne, prince of translators. His 
 original poems, though all very good, are not the department in 
 which he chiefly shines : to his translations from the English we 
 can apply no less an epithet than exquisite. His mode of render- 
 ing even the most difficult of Pope's verses is truly admirable, 
 being perfectly classical, and, at the same time, perfectly original 
 in language. We should strongly recommend all who are in the 
 habit of writing Latin verse to read ' The Wish ' and ' Chloe 
 
 C
 
 18 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Hunting : ' we are convinced that it will be as useful as an hour's 
 study of Ovid. It is impossible to praise too highly the neatness 
 and elegance with which these indeed, all his translations are 
 executed. They reflect the highest honour on the Westminster 
 School and his own diligence ; though, indeed, such a wonderful 
 facility of translation could never have been taught. In these 
 days translation is deemed as important a feature of Latin poetry 
 as original writing ; and Vincent Bourne is the greatest of trans- 
 lators, as Milton is of ' originals.' We must acknowledge that the 
 latter is the higher style of the two : still, we would fearlessly ask, 
 what can be more beautiful than the following extract, with which 
 we shall conclude ; hoping that this, our only quotation out of so 
 rich a field, will be excused : 
 
 ' Ah me ! the blooming pride of May 
 
 And that of beauty are but one ; 
 At noon both flourish, bright and gay, 
 Both fade at evening, pale and gone.' 
 
 ' Hei mihi ! quod floret languetque superbia Maii, 
 
 Floret idem formae gloria, languet idem ; 
 Utraque mane vigens placidumque et dulce rubescit, 
 Utraque marcescit vespere, pallet, abit.' 
 
 We wish we had space to give more ; but eveiy word of his 
 poems deserves diligent attention, and, reader at least one 
 perusal. 
 
 Another essay sent to the ' King's College Magazine,' 
 and published early in 1854, two months after that on 
 ' Modern Latin Poetry/ was an interesting and unconven- 
 tional study of the character and motives of Pontius Pilate. 
 It is not necessary in quoting the article of a gifted boy to 
 point out, much less to dwell upon, its defects and failures. 
 Such a composition is obviously not to be treated as the 
 product of a full-grown mind, but as the evidence of ability to 
 be brought to its full stature in coming years ; and, in reading 
 it, originality of thought and independence of judgment will 
 be counted as of far more value under the circumstances 
 than mature historical soundness. Edward Bowen when he 
 wrote ' The Procurator ' would, had he been at a public 
 school, have been a Sixth Form boy ; and it is as the work 
 of a Sixth Form boy that this ' study in character ' must be 
 looked at and judged.
 
 A MEMOIE 19 
 
 The intentions and conduct of Pilate are, the writer 
 of the essay thinks, open to another than the traditional 
 interpretation. That there should have been years of 
 error in connection with him is only analogous to the 
 long-lived historical mistakes which have been made in 
 connection with other names. ' We are now somewhat 
 staggered in our belief that Eichard III. was the con- 
 summate villain that Shakespeare has represented him ; 
 Niebuhr has shown us that the estimate that we have 
 formed of Eegulus is purely ideal ; and there is, we believe, 
 no scholar of the present day who would venture to accumu- 
 late upon the Sophists the scorn and reprobation of which 
 they have been for centuries the victims.' Accordingly he 
 is of opinion and sets out to justify it in detail that Pilate 
 may in his turn reasonably be judged more mercifully and 
 leniently than the world has hitherto consented to judge him, 
 and that such an interpretation of his mind and nature is 
 possible as leads not, indeed, to a complete acquittal, but to 
 a verdict far more sympathetic than that which is customary 
 and traditional. 
 
 Why may not Pontius Pilate have been an enthusiastic young 
 Epicurean, full of the vigour and happiness of life, and with a 
 sublime perception of the beauty of virtue ; not one of those 
 degenerate Epicureans who brought the name into merited con- 
 tempt, but a devoted follower of the principles of his great master ? 
 Perhaps he had lately bade adieu, with pleasure, to the corruption 
 of the metropolis, where his eyes must have been offended with 
 the daily scenes of vice, and his ears annoyed by the frivolous 
 dissertations on metaphysics. Perhaps he now had hoped to find 
 this dull province a haven where his sense of moral beauty should 
 be indulged with^ the contentrhent and quiet of a situation remote 
 from the cares of Eome, and his search for pure pleasure should 
 be free from vexatious struggles to attain to more than human 
 science. 
 
 Let us suppose this view of the character of Pontius Pilate to 
 be correct ; his conduct will then be sufficiently explained. We 
 will consider the narrative minutely. It appears that at first he 
 was unwilling to conduct the trial at all. He was naturally 
 averse to look upon human misery ; the sight of the culprit 
 
 c 2
 
 20 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 struggling in the meshes of the law, and then led triumphantly 
 away to punishment, had no charms for him : the morbid excite- 
 ment of such a scene was little in accordance with the pure 
 enjoyment of life. Another governor would never have refused a 
 criminal charge ; a Verres would have extorted money from the 
 friends of the accused ; a Piso would have exulted in the death- 
 agonies of the victim. Pilate proceeded with the trial by a course 
 of regular examination. It was not long before the acute judg- 
 ment of the procurator discovered the real character of him with 
 whom he had to deal. This was no real culprit ; that thoughtful 
 and melancholy brow was never seen on a Barabbas : ' I find no 
 fault in this man.' The prevailing feeling in his mind must have 
 been one not so much of indifference as of pity pity that a man 
 born, like others, to the enjoyment of the world should sacrifice 
 this enjoyment to promote, without any apparent cause, his own 
 peculiar opinions, and that one who, in his eyes, should have been 
 too wise to aim at uncertain science should find himself already 
 master of truth ! Here is a prisoner, a man of no ordinary mould, 
 who professes to be, not a follower after, but one who has actually 
 reached, the ends of science ! For this purpose has he come into 
 the world, to be a witness to the truth ! It cannot be ; none but 
 a God could attain to the truth. The thought of years, the con- 
 viction acquired by profound mental exertion, was summed up in 
 that sceptical exclamation, ' What is truth ? ' The idea of knowing, 
 without discovering, was too sublime for a follower even of Epi- 
 curus. And yet his was no great error, for the faith of the 
 prisoner was not opposed to the philosophy of the judge ; and 
 the mission of that prisoner was to show the world that Epicums 
 was right to break down the barriers of that metaphysical 
 speculation against which he and his followers had struggled, and 
 to bring to the knowledge of the world that happiness in which he 
 was so ardent a believer. 
 
 In the pages of history another scene is opened to our view. 
 Remorse and sorrow have changed the character of the man ; the 
 worshipper of pleasure bows beneath the weight of mental pain. 
 ' Be virtuous,' his master had written ; ' be virtuous, and shun 
 vice : so shalt thou be happy.' Be virtuous ? He was j austere. 
 Shun vice? He shunned everything now. And yet was he 
 happy ? That voice, once so kind and gentle to all, is now harsh 
 and forbidding ; that eye, which had but lately sparkled with the 
 gaiety of youth, now seems to frown on the world around ; every 
 action is characterised by sternness, or even tyranny. The multi-
 
 A MEMOIE 21 
 
 tude are moved to insurrection ; popular tumults arise ; Pilate is 
 recalled and banished. 
 
 We have yet another, a still gloomier, scene to look upon. In 
 the depth of misery and the helplessness of exile he has learnt the 
 terrible lesson that pure happiness cannot be attained in life. 
 For him who had once looked forward to a long and unbroken 
 career of enjoyment the past was calamitous, the present insup- 
 portable, and the future [full of] despair. What, then, could he 
 do but die ? He saw around him the world as smiling and joyful 
 as ever, while he himself was broken-hearted. He was unworthy 
 of the world; he ought not to sadden it with his presence. It 
 was in death alone to him annihilation that he could forget his 
 former dreams and the sad reality. He must die. Shall Cato, 
 the disciple of a creed which ' blasphemed against the divine beauty 
 of life,' plunge the steel into his bosom, and he be backward? 
 Shall Judas, the hated and despised Jew, seek refuge in death, while 
 he clings to life? That shall never be. And the philosopher 
 died and left us nothing but a name to ridicule and to revile. 
 
 Such conjectures, it may be said, are purely imaginary. To 
 some extent it may be so ; but surely the attempt to rescue a 
 name from the obloquy of ages, and to give to history one more 
 character on which we may look back not without pleasure, is no 
 unworthy effort of the imagination. 
 
 The same issue of the ' King's College Magazine ' has the 
 following set of verses. They are of interest, not only 
 because of their poetical promise, but as showing, in these 
 years of boyhood, the same seriousness and sincerity of 
 religious feeling as the beautiful lines entitled ' Shermiel,' 
 which came long afterwards from the maturity of his 
 spiritual nature. 
 
 WHAT I BEAD IN THE DRAMA OF LIFE 
 
 I read that in this world of care and pain 
 Three children comforted a mother's breast : 
 
 She, loving ever in their hearts to reign, 
 They, ever happy in her love to rest. 
 
 Above the clamour of the noisy world, 
 
 Their merry laugh was wont supreme to reign ; 
 
 And when the children died, their parting sigh, 
 'Twas said, had more of happiness than pain.
 
 22 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 She sorrowed not : but welcomed, as she heard, 
 The kindly Voice that called them from her side ; 
 
 Ar.d when the summer leaves once more appeared, 
 The mother bowed her bead, and smiling died, 
 
 'Tis soon and simply told ; yet though the tale 
 
 Be but the solace of an idle hour, 
 These are the triumphs that exalt our world, 
 
 And rob the grave of victory and power. 
 
 "Tis thus we gather, in our earthly clime, 
 $QIH tglpp^c of the Life that cannot die, 
 
 And trace, amid the broken waves of Time, 
 A floating imago of Eternity. 
 
 It was in the antumn of 1854 that Edward Bowen 
 went up to Trinity College, Cambridge. There is extant a 
 crma.11 photograph of him, which conies apparently from the 
 first days of his University life ; and the personality which it 
 exhibits is a very striking one. It shows a well-formed 
 head, with an intellectual forehead and thick black hair 
 nming down over the ears. The face is clean-shaved, and, 
 though the features fall short of actual beauty, they show 
 clearly enough the delicacy and refinement, as well as the 
 freshness and purity, of the nature of which they are the 
 visible expression. The figure was then, as always, thin 
 and wiry ; and there were then, as always, the signs of 
 physical vigour and intellectual alertness. He is dressed 
 in the ordinary garb of the period a long frock coat and a 
 large thick tie and he wears a top-hat. 
 
 At Cambridge several names were * writ large ' on his 
 list of friendships, never again to be removed from it. 
 With his cousin Frank Synge, afterwards one of the 
 Chief T'^pffrF* of Schools, he was already on intimate 
 terms, bat the intimacy now deepened into lasting affec- 
 tion- ***** ' close comrade, and in after years another 
 close friend, was Sir Charles Elliott, a distant connection, 
 who writes of the walks op and down the cloisters of
 
 A MElfOIE 
 
 LJL : .1. :~ i.: i ::: - 7! 
 : ^ :!i7: n :i7..: "LZ-i-riT-'i'- -i.:-: 
 mannrm and knife of social n4hnmt EdNrarf Bowenhad 
 
 iii : ' ' - :~ ~" - ~<: i_7 T'~:: . _ . ". - -- ." :'..~- :--i-~ :. - ; : ~ : ^7 _ ^ : 
 lirrT LLEJ- :: ill; ?^L:^_^_ -.-.ii -_:i ^- :j-_ : . 
 
 ' - T - L-. : ''I . i" 7'1 J_L_i-7_I _I_7 :ir^~. T !r ""."".!._" 
 
 - - - - - _ 1, r i *-- - " 
 
 _ i._ . -'- ^. _ ; ^ - ~_ 
 
 LJ'-.-L' 7~_r :: 
 
 : .'.: ; T'7:~ ^111.^ ~ : - -' : _--._ - - ; ~~:__; ^-'i^.--L.~ L:^:;^:. 
 
 -: TL :.-.-- :: :_7 i:;z: -_: 
 to IBB f**J""g about Ion Hie liiucib fitnon 
 "Waimg:' 
 
 ''' I_i." i. i 
 
 J-^i :- -,:. 
 
 I: =_i - 
 
 .LS 17 
 
 &mftib,n0w (190^ AxdiWhop of SfiiMy, mlw writes of i 
 < S27TMvvxct i /i!iv^u are tiiie epD&etstiBa 
 of hKrirararierasIknew it; and the i 
 
 ani partly from a 
 
 UTot onfy do they 
 
 -lr -s-r:^.: ^ zinrf. :_: 1177 :^:.:~ :; ili 
 i - 1 *- 1 ' " ^ "i"~ j_i ^.ji ii." ~ " i T.nf i ~ r ">" ." ~- ~ r __ T'* * 
 
 MfMi ^ - > *__ . - * ^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^"M k -j'm __ ^"^ _j 
 
 - , c 
 
 J. - . - - . - - - ^ 
 
 omlj here and there; they are joslt Ithnnra 
 there an no Jahnamwi or
 
 24 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 eloquently of Christian earnestness and endeavour than 
 would many pages of elaborated sentiment. One of these 
 letters was written at the opening of 1856, and therefore 
 comes from Edward Bowen's second year as an under- 
 graduate. A good deal of it may be quoted : 
 
 St. Thomas's Rectory, Winchester : Jan. 3, 1856. 
 
 Dear Willie, Having just finished three books of Thucydides, 
 I may as well begin a letter to you before I proceed with 
 JEschylus' ' Choephorce.' I am rather unhappy because I have no 
 books here, and it hardly pays to begin Greek plays with no notes 
 and only that miserable translation. . . . The fresh ah- here : 
 fresh air anywhere else : : old court : is to new. I was on the eve 
 of ordering a velocipede the other day from John Howes, and 
 going up on it and persuading you to join me at London on 
 another, but gave it up I forget why. I must try and forget 
 velocipede and all other excursions henceforward if possible till 
 after the grind. . . . Have you seen Caird's [Eev. James] sermon 
 published by order of her Majesty ? l I saw a review and extracts 
 in the ' Times,' which seemed very good. There is a review of 
 Jowett in the ' Quarterly.' 
 
 2 I can't work, I keep reading your letter which came this 
 morning. . . . Your letters always come and awake me, which is 
 pleasant to think of when going to bed. My father comes into 
 
 the room and says, ' Get up, it's almost ; we're just going to 
 
 breakfast ; here's a letter for you,' which is effectual. I conceal 
 the time for obvious reasons, my hours being not so good quite as 
 at Trinity. Curious that we should both have liked Caird's 
 sermon that is, as far as regards you, for I haven't read it yet. 
 I can't quite see the force of your observation about going up. 
 We agreed to go up together, and I will whether you will or not. 
 My thoughts run much more upon the bright side of the scholar- 
 ship chances, than upon the dark, which is on the whole perhaps 
 the pleasantest course. I wish I could begin the year with more 
 hopes of serving God better and believing [in] Him more. It 
 seems as if I had so much yet to learn, that by the time I have 
 learnt it, half the time of using it and working upon it will be 
 gone. I can only fall back upon the dim trust that the result of 
 all will be good. . . . You say you read Macaulay, and do not 
 
 1 A famous sermon by the late Principal Caird on Religion in Common 
 Life. 
 
 * What follows is written a day or two later.
 
 A MEMOIE 25 
 
 mention ' David Copperfield.' I decline entirely making mathe- 
 matical studies the subject of my thoughts when I am away 
 from you ; and beg you will do the same when I am not near you. 
 Hint to W. that you really do believe after all M. wears a 
 wig. It is amusing to see the indignation with which he rejects 
 the idea. It was cunning of M. coming and influencing the 
 parental mind. What does your father think of him? It is 
 pleasant to be able to shut up for the evening with ' Good night, 
 Willie.' 
 
 A second letter, which also will be read with interest, is 
 dated some twelve months later. It was sent to his friend 
 on the latter' s coming of age. There is in it the same com- 
 bination of genuine fun and religious sentiment : 
 
 [January 1857.] 
 
 As your birthday is on Wednesday, and I shall not have 
 a moment of time again till then, I send now my congratulations, 
 which are accompanied with many wishes of further returns of the 
 day, ' till we all come in the unity of one Spirit and the knowledge 
 of the Lord to a perfect man ' to which I do hope we may get 
 nearer and nearer every year. I hope you will manage to get over 
 the few remaining days of ' infancy ' with as much equanimity 
 as the occasion allows, and make a judicious use of the privilege 
 of signing your name for, as somebody remarked on a similar 
 occasion, it's something more than mere playing at vingt-et-un 
 now. I shall feel awfully small when we go back again. By the 
 way, I am doing that immediately ; my next three days being spent 
 in Monday, going to see sick friend twelve miles off, and back, 
 all day ; Tuesday, go to London in the morning, sleep at Donne's ; 
 and go on Wednesday to a kind of general Nicene Council of 
 clergymen, who are going to hold a kind of [ ? ] somewhere in 
 London, and Eev. E. B. Elliott opens the debate. Wednesday, to 
 Cambridge ; can I do anything for you ? . . . You seem to 
 have been doing an immense quantity of reading ; all the Iliad and 
 Odyssey with some Juvenal and Virgil thrown in is rather well. I 
 thought I had been industrious, but I haven't done half that. I have 
 sat down to (a) Aristotle and ((3) Plato on two separate occasions ; 
 the result of (a) was one page, of (/?) an imperceptibly small 
 quantity. By the way, what nonsense you do talk about Timothy 
 and Titus. Why, we did Titus long ago which shows you must 
 have shirked it; and I know I went on properly about 2 Timothy. 
 The extra verse shall be duly inserted to-morrow. . . . My dear
 
 26 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 Willie, I hope you may find life as happy after twenty-one as 
 before, and be still, as 1 Peter says, cv Swa/m eov c^povpov/jievos cts 
 crolfjojv a.7TOKa\v(f)6rjvaL at some time or other. 
 
 Another who went up with Edward Bowen was Edmund 
 Fisher, afterwards first Archdeacon of Southwark. He 
 came from Eugby, where he had been head of the School, 
 with Charles Bowen second to him. With him the most 
 intimate comradeship at once began, and the friendship 
 lasted unimpaired till after many years death intervened. 
 There are some humorous lines addressed by Edward 
 Bowen to him, on the occasion of an unfortunate incident 
 in his University career. It seems that Fisher arrived at 
 Trinity with his luggage in the middle of the night, but was 
 unable to make the porter hear, with the result that he was 
 left outside on the pavement for something over two hours. 
 The following poem was thereupon addressed to him by his 
 friend : 
 
 ON AN EXTEENAL VIEW 
 OF TRINITY COLLEGE BY E. H. FISHEE, ESQ. 
 
 For it is plain that he who is outside is differently situated from him who 
 is within. Arabian Proverb. 
 
 What, Fisher, what, Fisher, was the happy spot, Fisher, 
 Where you chose at midnight to repose your weary head, 
 
 When the porter, slowly nodding, actually forgot, Fisher, 
 Outside wasn't Paradise, and inside wasn't bed ? 
 
 Ha, Fisher ! Ha, Fisher ! down from off the car, Fisher, 
 
 The box with nails, and carpet bag, and hat box, did you bring, 
 
 With a hungry, Bashibazouk sort of movement, only Ah, Fisher ! 
 To get the bell, and yes, and then, to find it wouldn't ring ! 
 
 We, Fisher, we, Fisher, easily can see, Fisher, 
 
 How nominative changed into accusative with you, 
 
 And at last when hoarse with shouting and when out of breath at 
 
 three, Fisher, 
 The vocative was wanting, and the Latin Grammar true. 
 
 Eough Fisher, tough Fisher, did they sniff and snuff, Fisher, 
 The little dogs about you while a- waiting for the porter ? 
 
 And is it pleasant listening to the crow and the chough, Fisher, 
 And is it pleasant listening for two hours and a quarter ?
 
 A MEMOIR 27 
 
 Poor Fisher, poor Fisher, on the earthy floor, Fisher, 
 
 Did you woo uneasy slumber, or upon the box with nails, 
 
 Or spread-eagle-wise across the carpet bag against the door, Fisher, 
 Or but we stop, for hat boxes, and dead men, tell no tales. 
 
 Fisher ! Fisher ! could the bobby know, Fisher, 
 The position wasn't choice, but sheer necessity alone ? 
 
 How can you use such language about A Twenty-two, Fisher, 
 If in doubt of your sobriety he appealed to Twenty-one ? 
 
 Yes, Fisher, yes, Fisher, nobody could guess, Fisher, 
 Vy you lazed a blockin' up the thoroughfare was queer : 
 
 Other youths ere now of dissimilar excess, Fisher, 
 
 Have done so too, but you of pure despair, and they of beer. 
 
 Eh, Fisher ? eh, Fisher ? Bobbies went away, Fisher, 
 So did dogs, and when the gate was opened you got in it ; 
 
 But wasn't it the painfullest of courtesies to say, Fisher, 
 
 no only never mind yes nothing just a minute ? 
 
 Another friend was J. S. Thomas, afterwards the well- 
 known Assistant Master and Bursar at Marlborough. He 
 held a prominent place in Edward Bowen's memories 
 of Cambridge. 
 
 How well (the latter writes after the death of Mr. Thomas) 
 
 1 remember the Sunday evenings when after chapel we used to go 
 off, as was the fashion with some of us then, to hear a sermon, or 
 part of one, at Harvey Goodwin's church, and then come back to 
 supper at Hensley's rooms, or Palmer's, or Taylor's, or Synge's, 
 and talk boating shop till eleven or twelve at night. One glorious 
 summer vacation we went a walking tour together in Cornwall ; 
 one could hardly have a better companion for such an excursion. 
 Three weeks ago, as I talked to him for a few minutes, he seemed 
 hardly to have changed in these forty years. 1 
 
 Then, again,,there was Augustus Hensley, afterwards the 
 Senior Assistant Master at Haileybury. One year junior to 
 Edward Bowen was Henry Sidgwick, to whom he was bound 
 to the end by ties of affection and intimacy which were never 
 snapped nor relaxed. Still more junior to him, but at the same 
 time overlapping, were the present Sir George Young and 
 Sir George Trevelyan, both the close friends of the many 
 
 1 The Marlburian, November 4, 1897, ' In Memoriam J. S. Thomas.'
 
 28 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 remaining years. Another contemporary, who knew him 
 then less well, but who was destined to become his colleague 
 at Harrow, and to go thence to the Headmastership of 
 Haileybury, was James Robertson. 
 
 It has unfortunately been impossible to obtain many 
 detailed reminiscences of this particular period of Edward 
 Bowen's life. Strong impressions remain upon the minds 
 of those of his University friends who have survived him, 
 but they are impressions of generalities and not recollections 
 of minutiae. His perfect simplicity, however, his Spartan 
 hardihood, his untiring activity, his purity of character, his 
 light-heartedness and gaiety, his healthy and innocent enjoy- 
 ment of life, together with his deep and incessant interest in 
 all political and social questions as well as in those of pure 
 scholarship, are characteristics which are vividly recalled 
 by the survivors of those days. He would bathe with 
 Elliott in the Cam all through the severe ' Crimean winter 
 of 1854, breaking the ice, when necessary, to plunge in and 
 out again.' He attempted, as a mere matter of watchfulness, 
 to sit up two nights running, but failed in the endeavour, as 
 was to be expected. On one occasion at least, and perhaps 
 on more than one occasion, he horrified the porters at 
 Trinity by climbing on the college roofs ; and it was said at 
 the time that he was ' convened ' for the performance. 
 Edward Bowen, however, never admitted this latter allega- 
 tion, and there is no record of the circumstance in the 
 College books. His name, too, has been connected by some 
 with the perpetration of a practical joke in the shape of the 
 publication of some sham lists of the result of a Tripos exa- 
 mination ; others, however, have never heard him associated 
 with the incident. But he writes to his mother, on one 
 occasion, of his experience of a ' Town and Gown ' row, in 
 which he was involved one Fifth of November, on coming 
 away from an anti-tobacco meeting which ' had resulted 
 rather in favour of the herb.' In the fight, in wjiich the 
 undergraduates were much outnumbered, he was knocked 
 down ; while the following evening he had ' the ignominious 
 pleasure of running away from a man with a big stick.' 
 As to his general habits, he is said to have been somewhat
 
 A MEMOIR 29 
 
 Bohemian ; and he doubtless had then, as in after years, a 
 complete disregard for appearances and outward comfort. 
 It is impossible to think of him at any time of his life as 
 prim, neat, precise, much less as luxurious, well-dressed, sur- 
 rounded with dainty knick-knacks. But he is remembered ' 
 as a stickler in the observance of all college rules, and as a 
 model undergraduate in his regular attendance at lectures 
 or chapel ; and it need not be added that he was, from first 
 to last, a very hard worker. His first year he lived in 
 lodgings ; but in his second he had rooms in the Great 
 Court, between the great gate and the chapel. 
 
 We were then (writes a friend ] ) able to indulge more freely in 
 long symposia in each other's rooms, reading poetry aloud, making 
 rhymes in rivalry, or in walking about the cloisters and the Great 
 Court, listening to the splash of the fountain and discoursing on 
 all heavenly or earthly philosophy. 
 
 A pen-and-ink sketch he was at this time and for a good 
 many years afterwards very fond of making pen-and-ink 
 sketches of his sitting room, in a letter to his mother, still 
 survives. In the middle is a large table with books and 
 papers scattered about at one end, while at the other the 
 tea-things are set out. At the side is a settee, and behind 
 the settee an upright bookcase, in the same line as the 
 door. On the other side of the central table, against the 
 wall, is a small table, with a lamp on it. In the foreground 
 is an arm-chair, while in the background, between the two 
 windows, stands an upright reading-desk. There are two or 
 three pictures on the wall, and there are curtains to the 
 windows. 
 
 Edward Bowen ' coached ' at first with Mr. F. Vaughan 
 Hawkins, Ellioti being his fellow-pupil. But before long 
 the present Master of Trinity, Dr. H. M. Butler, came into 
 residence as lecturer, and his help was such that the two 
 students felt that they could safely dispense with the 
 customary services of a private ' coach.' Sir Charles Elliott 
 writes of the admiration which Edward Bowen's future 
 chief excited in both of them by his own beautiful scholar- 
 
 1 Sir Charles Elliott.
 
 30 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 ship. ' I well remember our delight in his lectures, and the 
 enthusiasm he awakened in us when, after setting us some 
 passage in English poetry or prose to translate, he gave us 
 his own divinely felicitous version.' Edward Bowen was 
 not long in obtaining his first University distinction. In 
 1855 he and Fisher divided the honour of obtaining the Bell 
 Scholarship. In the year following he was elected a scholar 
 of Trinity, and obtained other distinctions both in his college 
 and in the wider field of University competition. In the 
 former he won the theological prize, as well as a prize for a 
 first-class in the annual examination, while in the latter he 
 was awarded the Carus Greek Testament prize. In connec- 
 tion with this memorable success a reminiscence, contributed 
 by the old schoolfellow l at Blackheath whose recollections of 
 him in those earlier days have already been quoted, is not 
 without its interest. It had been the custom for Mr. Selwyn's 
 pupils to learn every week the Gospel and the Epistle for the 
 Sunday in Greek. Three or four years afterwards Edward 
 Bowen agreed with his friend that they would continue 
 what they had begun as boys together and would learn all 
 St. Paul's Epistles in the Greek, and the resolution was 
 conscientiously carried out ; the two constantly writing to 
 one another to report progress. The knowledge thus gained 
 must have borne its fruit in the examination for the Carus 
 prize, as well as in the intimate acquaintance which Edward 
 Bowen always showed in later years with these New Testa- 
 ment writings. In 1857 he competed for the Craven 
 Scholarship, but without success, or indeed any anticipation 
 of it. ' Nobody in my year,' he writes to his mother, ' has 
 a shadow of a chance of the Craven.' Another unsuccessful 
 competition this time for the Browne Epigrams brought 
 him an opportunity for a characteristic piece of generosity. 
 
 They fell (writes Professor E. C. Clark) somehow to my lot ; 
 but one of my compositions contained an error in metre, which 
 had, I suppose, escaped the notice of the examiners, as it had my 
 own. Bowen was good enough to point this out to me in time to 
 prevent my publishing the slip in question, and I think we always 
 regarded one another as friends thereafter. 
 
 1 Rev. Andrew Wood.
 
 A MEMOIE 31 
 
 But the year 1857 was a sufficiently successful one so far 
 as college honours went. He again obtained the theological 
 prize, and a first-class in the examination, while he also won 
 the first English Declamation prize (on Alfred the Great), 
 the first Latin Declamation prize (on Judas Maccabseus), the 
 first Beading prize in connection with the services in Chapel, 
 and the Dealtry prize for Greek Testament. He was also 
 awarded the prize for the best English essay. 
 
 This latter was on ' The Influence of Scenery upon 
 National Character,' and is a very able piece of work with 
 some excellent passages in it, though it does not represent 
 the high-water mark of his Cambridge writing. 1 Character 
 is defined by the author to be ' an union of habits all good ; ' 
 and the common recommendation of ' a ruling passion ' is 
 rejected by him. Great reformers may have had one side 
 of their character brought out into relief ; but if they allowed 
 themselves to give way to a ruling passion, then, so far as 
 they did so, it was to the injury of their moral personality as 
 a whole. Therefore ' the true and best study of nature will 
 tend to remove ruling passions, will destroy impulsiveness, 
 and substitute earnestness.' 
 
 The author then turns somewhat sharply to a considera- 
 tion of the influence of natural scenery upon religious 
 conceptions an influence not to be confounded with that of 
 the physical peculiarities of the country, which, though at 
 times closely resembling it, and not always easily distinguish- 
 able from it, is really of a distinct order. He takes as a 
 conspicuous example the ideas of hell. In the north, the 
 Scandinavian conceived of the place of punishment as a 
 region of eternal ice and snow. In the warm south the idea 
 took the form of a belief in flames of fire. So, too, 
 
 the Italian with his wide views and clear horizon, or the Arab, 
 whose prospect is an unbroken expanse as far as the eye can see, 
 loves the hollow valley and limited landscape ; and so Hell with 
 him is as wide as Heaven. The mythologist of the North, on the 
 other hand, encompassed in mountain and mist, finds every land- 
 scape cramped ; and accordingly he imprisons his demons. 
 
 1 The essay is printed in full among the Appendices.
 
 32 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 Another influence of scenery is to be found the writer 
 of the essay thinks in the religious impression created by 
 strong varieties in climate. Kapid alternations in this 
 respect tend ' to suggest positive and negative poles of 
 goodness and power, opposite spirits of good and evil,' 
 whereas ' an equable monotony, or at all events a gradual 
 variety of climate, is unfavourable to the idea of two oppo- 
 site deities.' And he illustrates this by the Brahmin, the 
 Hottentots, the tribes toward the extremity of South America 
 on the one hand, and by the Peruvian, the Esquimaux, the 
 Scandinavian on the other ; while somewhere between the 
 two come the ancient German, the Chinese, the Persian, the 
 North American Indian. The writer then touches no more 
 upon the difference between the Greek and Italian scenery 
 and the corresponding difference between Italian and Greek 
 character ; and then passes on to urge its importance in the 
 case of the Jews. 
 
 The nature of the Hebrew mind is one which, more than any 
 other, appears to dwell with peculiar delight upon natural scenery, 
 and to find a close relation between the event and the scene. 
 Whether on the weary desert to the promised conquest, or rioting 
 in the fruitfulness of their treasures, and the hope of years fulfilled ; 
 whether fighting inch by inch for its progression and recovery, 
 with the heroism which lifts the Maccabees to the level of the 
 glorious of the earth, or, as now, outcast and wandering and 
 hoping again ; through every stage of the history, it has been the 
 land that has been uppermost in their thoughts the ' land flowing 
 with milk and honey,' the land as the garden of God, Sion, Sharon, 
 Siloa, Lebanon. Did they preserve their ancient allegiance? 
 Then no feast more hearty than the first-fruits, no sentiment 
 more binding than gratitude for the good land. Did they fall into 
 the net of idolatry that surrounded them ? Then under every high 
 grove was an altar built. Did they recover, and fight, and 
 conquer? They felt everything in nature on their side and against 
 their foes ; the winds and storms helped the people of their choice ; 
 'the stars in their courses fought against Sisera.' No 1 lyric of 
 praise but is full of the beauties of the land. No prophecy but is 
 stored with lessons and warnings derived from them. And no 
 study, we may add, is now so popular, and no investigation so 
 prolific, as that which connects the thoughts and words, the
 
 A MEMOIE 33 
 
 history and imagery, of Scripture with the very rocks and valleys 
 and springs themselves in Palestine. 
 
 Two questions suggested by what has gone before are 
 then brought under some discussion. Firstly, how far is 
 civilisation antagonistic to the influence of natural scenery ? 
 Secondly, what effect has Christianity upon that influence ? 
 The answer given is such as to separate the work of 
 Christianity in this respect from the work of civilisation. 
 The meaning of scenery to a nation has been found at its 
 highest in Jewish life, but the effect of civilisation upon the 
 Hebrews would necessarily be in an opposite direction ; since 
 their love of scenery was the outcome of ' a high objective 
 tendency ' given by the Theocracy 'to the national thoughts,' 
 and civilisation works rather through ' subjectivity.' But it is 
 different with Christianity. Unlike civilisation, which ' is of 
 little help, if it be not rather detrimental, to the understand- 
 ing and appreciation of nature,' it takes and consecrates 
 those influences which the scene of beauty or grandeur is able 
 to exercise. It would be strange were it otherwise, since 
 Christianity claims to be an universal religion bringing every- 
 thing good within the sphere of its own sanctity. 
 
 The argument then turns from the ancient to the modern 
 world, and first of all to the evidence afforded by the southern 
 continent of America. 
 
 The forests toward the north of this region terminate, some- 
 what abruptly, about the line of the Orinoco River, and are suc- 
 ceeded by a totally different species of country. Southward are 
 the central savannahs of the Apure and Amazon, the boundless, 
 trackless plains, with not an elevation of any kind as far as the 
 eye can reach, stretching out in one unbroken landscape for 
 thousands of miles ; few rivers, no trees ; but one vast inter- 
 minable table-land Trom the Amazon to Buenos Ayres, from Per- 
 nambuco to the Andes. Here there wander the Guachos 
 wandered rather, for civilisation is fast encroaching the nomad 
 shepherds of South America ; savage tribes, indolent in habit, 
 though energetic in desires, ferocious, wild, and independent. 
 Even their language is energetic, rough, and impassioned. 
 Beyond them, in the far South, are the hardy, fierce, and intract- 
 able people who inhabit the cold, sterile, pine-clad plains of 
 Patagonia. On the north and east of the Orinoco, on the other 
 
 D
 
 34 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 hand, there dwell, in fixed and settled homes, nations, mild 
 industrious, easily governed, and easily moulded by European 
 customs, and devoted to the pursuits of agriculture : the tones of 
 their language are mild and melodious, and its nature copious and 
 artificial. Now what are the pictures of nature amongst which 
 these latter tribes are reared? Do these daily look forth on 
 dismal plains, a blank horizon, and wild trackless pampas ? We 
 have only to read some traveller's description of the country in 
 order to picture to ourselves what the character of the people must 
 be. The rivers, clear and rapid, clothed to the very brink with 
 luxurious robes of flowers and leaves ; islands hidden from head to 
 foot in creepers of exquisite brilliancy and diversity ; cataracts, in 
 the foam of which a thousand varying rainbows ever play ; never 
 a cloud to dim the burning sky, never a breeze to fan the motion- 
 less leaf ; and then the forest, with trees two hundred feet, or more, 
 in height ; a growth of underwood so thick that the paths of the 
 wild beasts seem like arches cut in a solid masonry of leaves ; 
 creepers rising above it nearly to the height of the tallest trees ; a 
 rich alluvial mould ; the cries of beasts, and the songs of the 
 birds, never for a moment ceasing one wild exuberance of life 
 and vegetation. This is the home of the nations of the North-East. 
 Can we wonder that when we come to the very tropics themselves, 
 to the very richest of the rich landscape, to New Grenada and the 
 Mexican Gulf, there are indolence and luxury, and in con- 
 sequence oppression and cruelty and crime ? 
 
 Other testimony might be found in the character of the 
 Swiss, whose independence, energy, domesticity, cheerfulness, 
 are the natural productions of the mountains, lakes, and 
 glaciers ; or in Holland, where in view of the dullness and 
 sameness and orderliness of the scenery we shall not expect 
 to find ' the fire and energy of the French or English 
 character no lofty spirit, no high aspirations but honesty, 
 freedom, religion, system, humanity, love of home.' 
 
 The essayist then alludes to some of the more solemn 
 influences of scenery, as realised by the individual character, 
 and felt even in moments of fierce temptation : 
 
 The gorgeous colours and indescribable distance of 'a summer 
 sunset, the best and most elevating picture of the infinity which 
 in great scenery is not merely a form of speech or custom- 
 sanctioned method of abbreviating the expression of a system 
 of feelings hard to describe, but a real and almost tangible truth ;
 
 A MEMOIE 35 
 
 the deep conscience-suggesting silence of the fields and woods, and 
 this more impressive perhaps than the thunder there was silence 
 in heaven when the final seal was opened ; the wholesome un- 
 ostentatious repose, which can hardly exist elsewhere ; the confirma- 
 tion we somehow derive from the contemplation of nature of 
 that most precious possession of modern philosophy, that of which 
 Protestantism is but the expression in theological language, the 
 absoluteness of individual existence ; these are some of the things 
 which help the mind. And the mind needs the help, and is more- 
 over adequate to receive it. For high and good as nature is, our 
 souls can nearly reach it even now ; and in this it is true, as it is 
 in climbing the hillside it is good to consider that most, which we 
 have just not attained to. And if we penetrate one step deeper 
 still into the inner life of nature, another and more mysterious 
 sympathy meets us there ; for we learn, and need not be slow to 
 believe, that Nature herself, somehow, waits upon man, and that 
 upon some glorious future development of his destinies is depen- 
 dent the ' earnest expectation of the creature.' 
 
 The writer then points out how, conversely, character will 
 influence the creation of scenery, as illustrated in Italy, in 
 Holland, or our own country ; but he does not dwell at any 
 length upon these points, which have no essential place in 
 the fabric of his argument. He concludes with a few words 
 of practical application. The study of nature is a corrective 
 to the extravagances of the spirit which puts its trust in 
 civilisation alone. There is a poetry in nature to be set over 
 against the prose of the purely practical tendencies to which 
 we are more and more surrendering ourselves. So too there 
 is to be found in nature what will assist us in the education 
 of the people. There are some things such as the value of 
 simple goodness, or of cultivation of mind which no books 
 can teach. But the beneficent influence of nature comes in 
 to help us, if only we would render it more and more possible 
 for that influence to make itself felt in the lives of the 
 working classes. 
 
 In short, we may reach the character by the eye and ear ; we 
 may learn ourselves, and make our people learn, as the child learns 
 first by his picture book, then by the gardens and meadows, then 
 by the great world around him. 
 
 The essay has, as will be seen, elements of real beauty 
 
 D 2
 
 36 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 and interest ; but it is by no means the equal of another 
 which dates from the following year, and to which was 
 awarded the Burney Prize. This prize had been founded 
 in 1845, and the trust-deed required that the subject selected 
 for competition should be ' on some moral or metaphysical 
 subject, on the Existence, Nature, and Attributes of God, 
 or on the Truth and Evidence of the Christian Religion.' 
 In 1858, when Edward Bowen won it, the subject set by 
 the Vice-Chancellor had been ' The Force of Habit, con- 
 sidered as an Argument to prove the Moral Government of 
 Man by God.' It is beyond all question a splendid piece of 
 work splendid alike in matter and style. If the essay had 
 been written by the late Bishop Westcott in his under- 
 graduate, or early graduate, days, his biographer would have 
 pointed to it and with justice as an earnest of the original 
 thought and spiritual sincerity which were to characterise 
 him in after years, and to raise him to a level of pre-eminence 
 among modern theologians and divines. Edward Bowen's 
 strongly religious nature is shown in every page of this re- 
 markable composition, as well as the width and extent of his 
 reading. It is from the pen of a young man of two-and- 
 twenty, but it is full of suggestiveness, even for the mature 
 thought of the present day. 1 
 
 The force of habit is represented by the writer as one of 
 the greatest of the Divine workmen. It is found in inanimate 
 nature ; it is found in man ; and the results of its influence 
 are the kingdom of God and the citizen trained and fitted 
 for that kingdom. It is with the second of these points 
 that the essay commences. Can we trace the work of the 
 force of habit in ourselves ? What is its value in connection 
 with the will and the emotional nature of man ? If we can 
 answer these questions, not indeed completely, for that is 
 beyond hope since ' it is almost impossible distinctly to 
 classify the influences at work upon the human will, to define 
 accurately what part of the constitution may be (Considered 
 as bearing directly upon the moral nature, and what part 
 only mediately ' but at any rate in some measure, then we 
 may hope to go on to the larger field of the world in which 
 1 The full text of the essay will be found among the Appendices.
 
 A MEMOIE 37 
 
 we live and move and have our being, and hope to find it 
 there also. Now it is perfectly clear that in man the force 
 of habit is found with a twofold energy. It sometimes 
 will stimulate ; it sometimes will weaken and even deaden. 
 This double character of its influence is noticeable as regards 
 both the physical and the moral nature of man. Take 
 his physical nature first. The force of habit is found 
 strengthening and increasing the power of action. Outdoor 
 exercise develops the boy's frame. The use of an oar does 
 not occasion, as it becomes habitual, the muscular fatigue 
 at first felt in connection with it. In other words, in 
 any matter connected with the body, in which the will is 
 either consciously or unconsciously involved, the influence of 
 habit ' tends to confirm the operative power.' But it is not 
 so always. There is an opposite effect when only ' feelings ' 
 are involved. The man or woman accustomed to suffering 
 becomes hardened against pain. The palate which is fed on 
 sweets is in the course of time unconscious of their sweetness. 
 So, too, strains of good music will increase in value for one 
 who deliberately exercises his faculties upon them; but 
 they will lose by degrees their charm for the hearer who 
 merely listens and never applies anything beyond his power 
 of listening. There is an analogy to this double effect 
 of habit on physical matters in an experiment connected 
 with physiology. In a newly killed animal, one set of 
 spinal nerves can be irritated without effect, while if another 
 set are touched all the limbs in connection with them are 
 thrown into convulsive movement. The same is true of the 
 higher nature of man : the force of habit acts diversely. 
 Certain sensations lose their keenness through it. ' Fear sub- 
 sides, hope sickens, delight palls,' i.e. so far as fear, hope, and 
 delight are independent of the will, and are mere animal pro- 
 ducts. But once the will comes into play, either consciously 
 or unconsciously, the result is different. It is not necessary 
 to illustrate the axiom that habit strengthens both the 
 mental and moral faculties. It has its witness in every 
 sermon, every seminary. Religious faith is no exception to 
 the rule, for faith does not exist apart from will. True, faith 
 is not always to be tied up with the working of conscious
 
 38 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 will. Those who assert such an intimacy of connection ' do 
 violence to the most obvious facts of mental anatomy.' But 
 Lord Brougham was entirely wrong when in a famous 
 lecture he went so far as to declare that belief is totally 
 unconscious. ' He either forgot, or disallowed, the fact that, 
 as unconscious physical actions are engendered by conscious 
 ones, so the will does act indirectly, though strongly, upon 
 opinion.' So far, then, the course along which our argument 
 has brought us is clear enough, and the goal to which we 
 are led is equally clear. The force of habit extends over 
 all parts of the human organisation, but the effects of that 
 force are not identical. 
 
 It is not a mere property of the constitution, with a single 
 action, and bearing no special marks of adaptation to distinguish 
 it from other faculties or properties ; but by a clearly denned law 
 its influences are separable into two classes according to the sphere 
 of its operation ; the effect being to stimulate the active powers of 
 the mind and body, and weaken and deaden those which are only 
 passive and extrinsically affected. We have not only a general 
 property ; we bave a specific law pointing to adaptation and design. 
 
 Whether the law can be found at work in the home of 
 man, is a question to which there can be but a very partial 
 answer. Our knowledge of the world is so limited that no 
 certain results can be obtained in an inquiry of this kind. 
 Still we are able here and there to apply tests, and the out- 
 come of these is to satisfy us that there are signs that there 
 does exist 'a universal property analogous to human habit.' 
 (It is in the development of this thesis that the striking 
 originality of the essay largely consists.) Proofs are con- 
 stantly accumulating that the laws of space and time are 
 identical. What is there in the law of space that is sugges- 
 tive of the force of habit ? The answer is not far to seek 
 the law of universal attraction. What is its counterpart 
 in time? A law which we may speak of as the law of 
 ' temporal coherence ' and which is ' universal throughout 
 nature.' Incidents affect their immediate consequents, and 
 such an influence is a powerful one. The influence is less 
 strong in proportion as the consequents are more distant, 
 but it is none the less at work. An analogy exists in the
 
 A MEMOIB 39 
 
 truth that ' every particle of matter affects, firstly and chiefly, 
 its immediate neighbours, then less strongly those more 
 remote.' It is a familiar canon that ' each word we speak 
 has infinite effects,' though these effects may be hidden from 
 our ken ; just as the infinite effects of moving a pebble 
 upon the seashore are beyond realisation. In other words, 
 ' time is gifted with the virtue of attraction.' In this 
 thought we may perhaps see the reconciliation between those 
 controversialists who find in a cause a real motive power, 
 and those who declare it to be merely * a precedent in time ; ' 
 because if it be true that event attracts event, then * an 
 incident happening in time is hardly dissociable from the 
 actual idea of a cause.' Here, then, we appear to have what 
 corresponds closely to the force of habit ; and the law which 
 we seem to have found can be traced in all types of existence 
 which are lower than human life. Indeed it is connected 
 with the very sustentation of nature. 
 
 Suppose an inanimate object to exist with certain properties. 
 The continuance of one of them through a moment of time produces 
 it at the next moment by a sequence or result which is the most 
 simple form of self-preservation : the simple tendency of the 
 property is to perpetuate itself. Advancing a step higher in the 
 scale of nature, the tree shows a more marked, more full, evidence 
 of this consequence ; the more the sap circulates, the stronger will 
 be the tree, and the more room will it afford for further development. 
 And, higher still, in the animals whose life so closely resembles 
 ours, we find habits which would seem to differ from ours only in 
 proportion to the difference of intelligence and reason. 
 
 These habits in the non-human forms of animal life are 
 imperfectly developed; but they are an advance upon the 
 characteristics of vegetable life, though they still lack the 
 fullness of attainment which awaits them when the human 
 level is reached. Coleridge rightly says that * most wonder- 
 fully doth the muscular life in the insect, and the musculo- 
 arterial in the bird, imitate and typically rehearse the 
 adaptive understanding, yea, and the moral affections and 
 charities of man,' adding that ' all lower natures find their 
 highest good in semblances and seekings of that which is 
 higher and better.' The brute has a side to its nature in
 
 40 .EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 which action, motives, will, play their ordained part ; and 
 here what we find at work affecting instinct, affections, 
 sympathies is the representation of that law of the force of 
 habit which we have observed in the human life with which 
 God has crowned His creation. It may perhaps be asked, in 
 connection with these thoughts, in what relation this law 
 (which, as we have seen, makes for self-preservation) stands 
 to the law of decay and dissolution by which it is thwarted. 
 The answer seems to be that the law of which we are 
 speaking is primary, the adverse law secondary. The latter 
 is ' engrafted ' on the former. Our own best sentiment con- 
 firms what physiologists tell us ' that death and corrup- 
 tion are no necessary portions or consequents of growth and 
 vitality, but that they are in fact in the highest sense un- 
 natural.' 
 
 These theories, which we have now, so far, brought to an end, 
 may perhaps be thought fanciful. But if the word analogy has 
 any meaning at all, they are not necessarily untrue. Not only 
 the holy books, but the pages of nature as well, were written for 
 our learning. Why, indeed, should we suppose that the world is 
 governed by different laws from those which govern its inhabitants ? 
 If in these efforts to obtain half glimpses of some grand law of 
 conservation we have been able to arrive with any degree of satis- 
 factory success at a system which connects human action and its 
 government with the workings of all nature in its various stages 
 of life and growth, then we shall not have solved the mystery of 
 responsibility, we shall not have discovered the whole nature of 
 conscience, but we shall have given grounds for additional study 
 of the relations of daily acts to the total progress and final destiny 
 of man. 
 
 What is that final destiny ? The essayist does not treat 
 the question as open to any answer but one. It is fitness 
 for the kingdom of God. That fitness consists in character. 
 Such was the great message of the Eeformation. The 
 mediaeval Church had made salvation a matter of mere acts, 
 of which some were placed in one scale, and others in the 
 opposite one, while the Divine judgment was regarded as 
 determining in which the weight preponderated. Such a 
 theory of balance was a hopeless one, and was to give place 
 to another and much deeper :
 
 A MEMOIE 41 
 
 Arnold of Brescia had conceived it. Tauler had whispered it 
 in the ear. Erasmus had spoken it in the closet. Upon the 
 housetops, indeed, Augustine had proclaimed it ; but centuries had 
 dimmed the voice. Luther found it written in his heart, and gave 
 it to the world. 
 
 The noble conception has found an eloquent exponent in 
 a modern English theologian : 
 
 Not, ' What hast thou done ? ' (says Trench), but ' What art 
 thou ? ' will be the question to every man in that day. Sin is not 
 exterior to the soul. We form ourselves ; we shape ourselves to 
 truth and righteousness and faith ; by our actions, indeed, we shall 
 be judged ; but it is not our actions that shall be judged, but our- 
 selves. 
 
 And because salvation is a question for each man of 
 what he is, therefore the part played by habit in shaping the 
 destiny of each soul is obvious enough : 
 
 By habit, extending to each individual deed, the course of our 
 lives is bound together by one great moral chain. Its links are 
 great and small ; but there is one for every action. The man who 
 acts thriftily becomes thrifty, and saves his heritage. The man 
 who plays the prodigal is soon a prodigal at heart, and cannot 
 but lose where he might have gained. In no other way than this, 
 each act of right or wrong bears testimony to the moral will, 
 develops the moral character, advances steadily and progressively 
 the moral consummation. Truly in our own selves, no less than 
 without, we are compassed about with an innumerable company of 
 witnesses. Of the number are the nameless charities, the silent 
 heroisms, the impractical, undemonstrative motions of goodness 
 and love ; of the number, too, is the finrepicrraTos a-^apria., the sin 
 that cleaves like a garment. As surely as the growth of each leaf 
 changes the form of the tree, so surely does each of these, with a 
 distinct reality and life of its own, tend, one by one, to form and 
 mould the man. 
 
 And thus development is essential to the moral law 
 development doing its work in part through the influence of 
 habit. By such a train of thought we are led moreover 
 to realise that punishment in the next world is not some- 
 thing arbitrary and external, but, like blessedness, the direct 
 outcome of what a man has been here. Thought cannot
 
 42 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 foretell in what the penalties then to be inflicted will really 
 consist, but we can say this much at least of each requital, 
 that it will be ' a consequence akin to the crime.' Another 
 corollary also follows : ' Christianity is a religion of motives.' 
 It is not so much by the result of an act, as by the aim 
 which prompted it, that we rise. It is by the efforts made by 
 will and conscience, not by the actual things done, that we 
 mount the ladder to final blessedness. Again it follows that 
 we cannot parcel offences off into sins mortal and sins venial. 
 Such ' minor niceties of arrangement ' are alien to the simple 
 laws of morality. 
 
 We may illustrate this portion of the argument by the 
 metaphor of a lordly fabric. The foundation is the moral 
 law. Upon it the workmen, which are habits, rear the 
 building, which is either a temple of God or an abode of 
 Satan. But whichever it is, the building stands firm. And 
 it is in the conception of ' habit as the architect of the 
 edifice ' that we have the explanation of what is at first 
 sight a strange circumstance. ' Not every act connected 
 with morality is a conscious one.' There are deeds of splendid 
 virtue on the one hand, or of dark atrocity on the other, 
 which seem to proceed from instinct rather than from 
 deliberate choice ; and yet we hold the author of the deed 
 fully responsible, and award him praise or blame. Why is 
 it? Simply because the instinct which actuated him was 
 the outcome of the force of habit. 
 
 We may sum up all in the words of the Psalmist, and 
 say that in much more than a mere phrase, 'His mercy 
 is over all His works ; ' or our conclusion may find its 
 expression in the great lines of Tennyson : 
 
 For so the whole round world is every way 
 Bound with gold chains about the feet of God. 
 
 The instinct of brutes becomes consecrated when it is thought 
 of as one of the ' works touched and hallowed |by that 
 wondrous mercy.' Nay, wherever we find 'the law of 
 which habit is the human exponent, there also appears the 
 guiding law, for which " moral " is hardly too great a term.' 
 Habit is the great trainer of men, fitting them for things
 
 A MEMOIE 43 
 
 unspeakable. It may of course become our ruin ; but it is 
 our own fault if it be so. ' But that the gift is for our use 
 and profit ; that by it we rise not only on our dead selves, 
 but upon our living selves as it were, to higher things ; that 
 it carries engraven upon it the express sentence of the 
 Divine will for our moral progress and perfection this it is 
 enough for us to know.' 
 
 The final passage of the essay is one of singular force 
 and beauty : 
 
 The end of such an investigation as the present can never be 
 unmeaning to ourselves. We can never attempt to attain a 
 clearer sight of an ordinance of Divine goodness, without finding 
 and consecrating to ourselves if it be but the dust of the chamber 
 of _ heavenly wisdom. Such considerations as these may tell us 
 much, even though the speculation should be crude and the 
 analysis imperfect. They tell us that if we are living under a 
 paramount dispensation of right and wrong, so surely an atmo- 
 sphere of moral significance breathes in the smallest acts of our 
 will ; that habit, if it be no more, is the link which connects the 
 meanest of ordinary deeds with the great laws which are a 
 Theocracy over the hearts of all men. We exempt no person and 
 no act from their influence ; we believe that they rule the earth ; 
 that as 'the world is so framed by the word of God, that the 
 things which meet our eyes consist not of mere objects of sense,' 
 so they have rather their subsistence on the mind of a God whose 
 prime law in our hearts is the sense of moral duty, the essence of 
 that education and that Divine economy by which the whole course 
 of His ' Church,' however wide be the issues of that word, is not 
 only ' governed,' but ' sanctified.' 
 
 In 1858, too, came the critical examination for the 
 Classical Tripos. Edward Bowen was supposed by many to 
 have the best chance of the much coveted distinction of 
 Senior Classic, and he had ventured himself to entertain 
 hopes of the splendid reward. But the honour was to go 
 elsewhere; and if a short undated note, written to his 
 mother in the course of some examination, refers to this 
 particular one, as it almost certainly does, he felt himself 
 that his work had not been throughout it all that he could 
 have wished. * The examination is over to-morrow. I have 
 been doing not quite so well as I expected. I did very badly
 
 44 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 at first, but have been recovering it rather since.' None 
 the less, the blow, when it came, was a very heavy one. 
 The present Professor E. C. Clark was senior, two others 
 were bracketed equal second; Edward Bowen was only 
 fourth. He spoke of it years afterwards to a pupil as ' the 
 greatest disappointment of his life ; ' and so stunned was he 
 by it that he never remembered, as long as he lived, what 
 happened to him on the day when the lists came out, beyond 
 having a vague idea that he had been to a theatre in the 
 evening. At the same time he felt in later manhood, when 
 he looked back calmly upon the matter, that the comparative 
 failure had never made the smallest difference to his career. 
 There is one slight example of his work during this unfor- 
 tunate examination which may be quoted here. It was given 
 by him to the same pupil to whom he spoke, about a quarter 
 of a century afterwards, of the grievousness of his vexation. 
 It is a rendering into English verse of Euripides' ' Helena,' 
 1107-1131. 
 
 Bird that lovest a place of rest 
 In the boughs of the leafy cover, 
 
 A temple of song is thy quiet nest, 
 
 And thy tearful melody thrilleth best 
 From thy bower all shaded over. 
 
 Come, come, come, with thy throat of gold, 
 
 And thy tuneful mellow cadence, 
 Come tell us the sorrow that must be told, 
 And the thrilling tale of tears unfold, 
 And the woe from the spears of Hellas rolled 
 
 On Helen of Troy's sad maidens. 
 
 He came from the plains of Troy, he came, 
 
 Borne over the surging waters, 
 And with him the bridal bed of shame, 
 And the queen the fairest in mortal fame 
 
 Of Lacedaemonia's daughters. 
 
 Greeks fell by the spear-head's brazen blow ; 
 
 Greeks fell by the strong shower ; I . j 
 
 Greeks people the gloomy world below, 
 And their wives uproot their hair for woe ; 
 No palace since long and long ago 
 
 Knows ever a bridal hour.
 
 A MEMOIE 45 
 
 Of another scene at another while 
 The Capharid rocks have spoken ; 
 
 One arm slew many by cruel guile, 
 
 One hand uplifted the beacon pile 
 And lighted the traitor token. 
 
 In the twelve months that followed the Tripos examina- 
 tion he gained another University prize essay on the 
 character of "William III., 1 and in 1859 the last honour that 
 his college could give him election to a Fellowship. 
 
 Edward Bowen's position in the University as one of the 
 most distinguished and brilliant of the undergraduates was 
 also recognised by his election to the ' Apostles ' a very 
 select and private coterie, to which none but the most 
 intellectual men belonged ; and one of his most famous 
 songs in after years ' Giants ' was perhaps based on an 
 essay that he wrote for this society. Another and a very 
 different club, in which throughout his career as an under- 
 graduate he took much interest, and from which he derived 
 much pleasure, was the Cambridge Union. This society, it 
 need hardly be said, did not in those days possess its present 
 buildings, but held its weekly meetings in ' an old cramped 
 building in Green Street, terribly hot and ill ventilated.' 
 Here, however, there were many vigorous debates, especially 
 on current politics ; and in these Edward Bowen frequently 
 took an active part. He is not remembered as in any way 
 an orator ; he spoke quickly and eagerly, even jerkily, and 
 with considerable vivacity of gesture ; but his speeches had 
 much success. His great and well-merited reputation and 
 the comparative maturity of his opinions gave him a stand- 
 ing among his contemporaries which insured for him 
 attention and respect, while his charm of manner more than 
 atoned for any 'faults attaching to his utterance. The 
 subjects of his speeches are shown from the minute-book of 
 the Union, and they are of interest as throwing considerable 
 light on his views at this time. It will be noticed that his 
 dislike of aggression, his sympathy with weaker Powers, and 
 his desire for peace, marked him during this undergraduate 
 period at the University as all through the rest of his life. 
 1 No copy of this has been preserved.
 
 46 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 But in home matters there was in these earlier days a vein 
 of anti-Liberalism which found no part in the political 
 opinions of his later and mature years. His first speech 
 was on May 1, 1855, when the present Speaker of the 
 House of Commons 1 moved ' That the party commonly called 
 " Cobdenite " has done the country good service.' To this 
 Edward Bowen led the opposition. He does not seem to 
 have spoken again until six months afterwards, when he 
 moved, with the present Master of Trinity (Dr. H. M. 
 Butler) in the chair, ' That the present time is so favourable 2 
 for the re-establishment of peace, that it is the duty of the 
 Western Powers to show themselves ready to negotiate with 
 Russia for that object.' A week afterwards (November 27, 
 1855) he spoke, late in a debate, against a motion, ' That the 
 present attitude of Sardinia affords the best hope for the 
 freedom of Italy.' 3 In the Lent Term of 1856 he was elected 
 Vice-President of the Society, and President of the Library 
 Committee, the latter position being one for which he was, 
 through his unusual literary gifts and knowledge, especially 
 fitted, and in which he is remembered as having done good 
 service. On February 5, 1856, he supported a motion, ' That 
 the proposals accepted by Eussia contain the basis of an 
 honourable peace.' The week following he spoke in favour 
 of the abolition of the income tax as ' both unjust in theory 
 and absurd in practice.' The following week the present 
 Bight Hon. J. W. Mellor moved, ' That Lord John Eussell 
 deserves the gratitude of his country.' From this Edward 
 Bowen was the leading dissentient. In May of that year he 
 opposed and his opposition was a forecast of his later 
 antagonism to a ' forward ' policy in India a motion, ' That 
 the annexation of Oude was a justifiable and laudable act 
 on the part of the British Administration in India.' 4 A 
 
 1 The Bight Hon. W. C. Gully. 
 
 * Sebastopol had fallen in the preceding September. 
 
 1 Sardinia had joined the Allies against Russia, sending a for?e of some 
 15,000 men to the Crimea. Cavour hoped in this way to secure the friendship 
 of France in his struggle with Austria. 
 
 4 The consent of the Court of Directors to the annexation had reached Lord 
 Dalhousie at midnight on January 2. Outram's mission and the deposition of 
 the king had taken place in the following month.
 
 A MEMOIK 47 
 
 fortnight later he opposed a motion strangely enough in 
 view of his subsequent opinions ' That the admission of 
 Dissenters to the full privileges of the Universities would be 
 a just and right measure.' l In the October term of 1856 he 
 was elected President; but the week before he took the 
 chair he moved a resolution against ' The threatened inter- 
 ference of England and France at Naples ' as contrary to 
 ' the true principles of international justice.' In the last 
 debate of that term he left the chair to oppose a motion, 
 moved by the present Archbishop of Sydney, 'That the 
 interference of the King of Prussia with the affairs of 
 Neufchatel is unwarrantable and unjust.' On February 23, 
 1857, a motion was made by the present Eev. Chancellor 
 Lias (Eector of East Bergholt, near Colchester), ' That the 
 establishment under proper supervision of religious brother- 
 hoods and sisterhoods would be advantageous.' Edward 
 Bowen supported the proposition, being doubtless impelled 
 to do so by the strong philanthropic sentiment which 
 would commend to his sympathies any associations de- 
 voting themselves to work among the poor and outcast. 
 His Conservatism, however, comes out again a week later, 
 when he opposes a proposition to extend the franchise to ten- 
 pound householders in the counties. On March 10 and 17 
 of that year (1857) there was a long discussion on a resolution 
 that ' This House would regret a change at the present time 
 in her Majesty's Government.' 2 Edward Bowen, who, then 
 as always, detested the military spirit, spoke against the 
 
 1 The matter was then before Parliament. ' In the Cambridge Act, which 
 followed in 1856, all other degrees except in divinity were also freed from the 
 test, though not so as to confer a vote in the Senate, for which a declaration of 
 Church membership was still required. These very limited concessions to the 
 national demand were, in fact, as their enemies regarded them, " the thin end 
 of the wedge." Few Dissenters as yet were induced to matriculate at Oxford ; 
 but a good many entered Cambridge, some of whom graduated with high 
 honours. Thus a fresh nucleus of agitation was created within the University, 
 and a fresh argument was supplied to those who were contending for reform ' 
 (Prof. Campbell's Nationalisation of the Old English Universities, pp. 91 f.). 
 
 2 The Government of Lord Palmerston had just been defeated on Mr. 
 Cobden's motion condemning the proceedings in China, consequent on the 
 seizure of the 'Arrow.' The dissolution which followed brought Lord 
 Palmerston back with a large majority.
 
 48 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 motion. So, too, he spoke against a motion made shortly 
 afterwards by the present Sir George Trevelyan, ' That 
 capital punishment enforced uniformly, and without appeal, 
 would be a just and efficient check on the crime of murder.' 
 In the Lent Term, 1858, he spoke the Conservative side of 
 his mind again asserting itself against a motion declaring the 
 recent suppression of public journals by the Emperor of the 
 French to be ' an impolitic and tyrannical measure ; ' : while 
 shortly afterwards he again showed his severance from the 
 ' jingo ' feeling of the time by opposing (in his last speech) a 
 motion, ' That the measure proposed by Lord Palmerston for 
 the alteration of the law against conspiracy is inopportune 
 and uncalled for.' 2 
 
 Additional light is thrown on his political opinions and 
 ideals by a paper ably and vigorously written, though some- 
 what slight, and obviously the outcome of spare moments 
 which he contributed in 1858, the year of his degree and 
 of the Burney Prize Essay, to ' Academica,' an ephemeral 
 Cambridge magazine, on the subject of ' Modern War.' 3 
 The salutary effect of war upon selfishness and corruption 
 at home seems to the essayist to be overstated in such a 
 poem as Tennyson's ' Maud.' Commercial prosperity makes 
 for the boon of material happiness, and until it is shown that 
 such prosperity is the parent of crime, let us seek for it. 
 The love of fighting is part of our brute instincts, and it is 
 no part of the duty of the Christian Church to stimulate and 
 encourage them. As regards the Crimean War itself, the 
 essayist believes it to have been defensible on moral grounds. 
 It was undertaken against aggression in defence of the 
 common welfare. Eussia had ' attacked an individual part 
 of the common body of European interest, which it was our 
 duty to defend.' The object, therefore, of the war was such 
 as to ennoble the efforts made to carry it on. On the other 
 hand, mere selfishness, or a coarse pride in strength, degrades 
 
 1 Orsini's attempt to assassinate the French Emperor had been made early 
 in that year (January 14). 
 
 2 Lord Palmerston's Bill made conspiracy to murder a felony in England, as 
 already in Ireland, and punishable with transportation. It was defeated on 
 Mr. Milner Gibson's amendment, and Lord Palmerston resigned in consequence. 
 
 * The essay will be found among the Appendices.
 
 A MEMOTE 49 
 
 military undertakings, even when those undertakings are 
 exemplified in an Alma or an Inkermann. The writer then 
 passes on to praise with enthusiasm Lord Clarendon's sug- 
 gestion at the Congress of Paris that mediation should be 
 generally employed as a substitute for the arbitrament of 
 arms. 
 
 Well spoken, representative of England ! Is not this a positive 
 gain ? May we not presume that we have here the germ of a 
 system which after years and years may lead us, in spite of all the 
 ' Mauds ' that can be written, to cast our hopes, not on the 
 coming of a Russian fleet against Portsmouth, but on the steady 
 and unselfish working of honest diplomacy, and very possibly a 
 multitude of those processes of civilisation which more than one 
 parliamentary orator would call hypocrisies and shams ? 
 
 The essayist goes on to argue that the war in the Crimea 
 had been too far off to bring to this country much improve- 
 ment socially and politically. It was not as when the 
 Armada threatened England in the sixteenth century. Then 
 the result had been national unity where previously there 
 had been discord and party divisions. Then, under the 
 gathering of the storm over the land itself, there came the 
 healing of internecine quarrels and the repair of broken bonds 
 and the transformation of enmities into alliances. These 
 results had been excellent ; but valuable and important as 
 they were, they had been purchased at a very high price. 
 Nor was the price one which must perforce be paid for them. 
 The existing generation had a better and stronger substitute 
 for war by which to rise above its present level. It might 
 seem a poor thing to have to work by means of statistics and 
 blue-books and debates and diplomacy, but these might do 
 at least as much for England as an invasion by the French. 
 The path of peace and of commercial activity did not lead 
 away from the true goal of a great country. 
 
 It is not that the nation has changed ; it is not that its work 
 has degenerated ; it is but that civilisation has brought its fruits ; 
 and among them we reckon a gravity of political action, which may 
 indeed appear to obliterate the freshness of popular energy, but 
 leaves in its stead the possibility of equal vigour combined with a 
 recognition of the laws which have altered, we believe for good, 
 
 E
 
 50 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 the relations which we bear man to man, and nation to nation. 
 We are going on in a path which is not averse to energy, and 
 not repugnant to honesty ; we have openings wider and wider 
 every day for the lover of his country to do it what good he may. 
 If we wish, then, to go on and advance till we approach more 
 nearly, and as nearly as may here be, to the form of a perfect 
 nation, if we desire that 
 
 1 noble thought be freer under the sun, 
 And the heart of the nation beat with one desire,' 
 
 let us ennoble that desire, and strive to enrich that thought, not 
 in a mere outward enthusiasm caught from some instinct of the 
 sinews, but by those means which are prepared by the onward 
 progress of humanity for the use and benefit of nations which 
 recognise their highest happiness in the quiet routine of 
 civilisation. 
 
 But during these years of undergraduate life Edward 
 Bowen was not merely a scholar, an essay writer, and a 
 debater. He was then, as afterwards, an untiring athlete. 
 He does not indeed appear to have played much cricket at 
 Cambridge 'Willow the King' was a monarch whose 
 reign over his interests had not yet commenced but he was 
 in the Eight of the Second Trinity Boating Club, a society 
 which has now for some time been extinct, but which was 
 then a flourishing institution composed to a considerable 
 extent of reading men. J. S. Thomas, to whom reference 
 has already been made, was another member of the crew. 
 Neither he nor Edward Bowen was a really first-rate oar ; 
 but each was a genuine enthusiast, and ' such was the work 
 that their zeal did ' that Second Trinity rapidly rose until 
 the boat was within one place of the headship of the river. 
 
 Edward Bowen was, too, a zealous skater, and is said 
 to have skated on one occasion from Cambridge to King's 
 Lynn. At another time he skated from Cambridge to Ely 
 and back twice in the same day. But walking was his 
 favourite pastime, a frequent companion being Elliptt. The 
 two both delighted in Ely, and their first long walk together 
 had for its object what, says Sir Charles Elliott, ' was a 
 sort of Mecca to us.' Their longest tramp was from Cam- 
 bridge to London.
 
 A MEMOIK 51 
 
 I am not likely (writes the same correspondent) to forget how 
 tender the soles of my feet became towards the end, and how piti- 
 fully, but vainly, I entreated him, when the first hansom came in 
 sight, to accept the doctrine that we had reached London, though 
 we had not arrived at the place which he marked down as the 
 limit of our journey. 
 
 His most celebrated walk, however and one very rarely 
 accomplished was a little later, and was taken in company 
 with another friend than Elliott, who had then gone to India. 
 The walk was from Cambridge to Oxford ; and the time 
 occupied over the feat was twenty-six consecutive hours, 
 beginning at midnight, Edward Bo wen having been delayed 
 towards the end for some four hours by the unfortunate 
 breakdown of his companion, whom he had to leave behind, 
 and without whom he finished the great effort. He some- 
 times in after days spoke of the completeness for the moment 
 of his exhaustion. Body and nerves were both utterly tired 
 out. Opposite St. Mary's Church it was about two o'clock 
 in the morning he leaned heavily for a few minutes against a 
 lamp-post. A policeman came up and doubted his condition. 
 ' Where have you come from ? ' was the query. ' Cambridge,' 
 was the weary answer, which scarcely reassured the officer 
 of justice. However, he fortunately succeeded, in some way 
 or other, in satisfying the suspicions of his questioner, and 
 crawled on to his hotel. It says a great deal for his power 
 of recovery that he was next morning not much the worse 
 for all that he had gone through. The achievement was 
 one of which he was naturally proud, and when at Harrow 
 he used to encourage the more athletic of his pupils to 
 imitate it ; and two or three of them have succeeded in 
 following in his steps but only two or three. 
 
 There is no" need to say how deep was his affection 
 throughout his life for Cambridge. The thoughts of such 
 days with the one sad exception of the day of the publica- 
 tion of the lists could never be unwelcome or distasteful 
 to him. That period was to him, as to so many others, a 
 beloved memory. There was often thitherwards that retro- 
 spect, that glance into the past, of which he speaks in one 
 of his songs : 
 
 B 2
 
 52 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 One look back as we hurry o'er the plain, 
 
 Man's years speeding us along 
 One look back ! From the hollow past again, 
 
 Youth come flooding into song ! 
 Tell how once, in the breath of summer air, 
 
 Winds blew fresher than they blow ; 
 Times long hid, with their triumph and their care, 
 
 Yesterday many years ago ! l 
 
 And as he looked back upon his own recollections of his 
 University, and added to his own associations the experiences 
 of his friends and pupils, and compared them with the 
 testimony, direct or indirect, of others whose lot had been 
 cast elsewhere, there was formed a strong and genuine 
 belief, to which he always adhered not the sentiment of 
 a partisan, but the impartial view of a man of judgment in 
 the superiority of Cambridge to Oxford. 
 
 1 Song for Old Harrovians.
 
 A MEMOIE 53 
 
 II 
 
 As his Cambridge career drew to its close, Edward Bowen 
 had more than one offer of scholastic work. He chose to 
 go as assistant master to Marlborough, then a new school, 
 of which Dr. Bradley, afterwards Dean of Westminster, 
 was the head. Dr. Bradley had been Charles Bowen's tutor 
 at Eugby, and he was only too glad of the opportunity of 
 securing the services of his old pupil's brilliant brother. 
 But Marlborough masterships were then ill paid, and Dr. 
 Bradley was ever ready to help, as far as he could, his 
 subordinates to posts in richer schools. Edward Bowen's 
 stay there lasted less than a single term. He seems to have 
 commenced his work in the middle of the school quarter, and 
 he had not been there a month when promotion to a 
 mastership at Harrow followed. Dr. Bradley had sung his 
 praises to Dr. Vaughan, when the latter was on a visit, with 
 the result that an offer had at once been made to Edward 
 Bowen to join the Harrow staff. Of these few weeks at 
 Marlborough some scanty gleanings are derivable from a 
 letter sent by Edward Bowen to a friend. The letter is 
 interesting, for in the first place it shows that he had, like 
 others, his early difficulties in discipline to contend with 
 difficulties which followed him to Harrow ; and in the second 
 place we see in it his feeling as to the comradeship which 
 should exist between boys and masters a feeling which was 
 to find practical expression at Harrow. 
 
 Having been intellectually employed for the whole of the last 
 twelve hours, with the exception of three short meals, I take up as 
 a change the occupation of writing to you. ... I came down 
 about a fortnight ago ; and leave in about three weeks more that 
 is to say, what is left of me will then leave ; for with these morn- 
 ing chapels and small boys I am getting quite the pelican upon
 
 54 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 the housetop, which withereth afore it be dried up, or any other 
 natural phenomenon expressive of prolonged and fatal exertions. 
 I am not doing the Sixth, as you suppose, but only a form of 
 some small boys, the most blessed young rascals I ever came 
 across, and a few of the Sixth to coach privately. The latter are 
 better than I should have expected ; the former I can't draw a 
 more terrible picture of, than by saying they are precisely like what 
 I conceive myself to have been when at the age of about thirteen. 
 I am thinking of astonishing them with one or two bursts of severity 
 of a ferocious order. I sit up every night practising a look of 
 authority before the looking glass ; and my friends tell me it 
 becomes me quite naturally. 
 
 As to liking it, one can't feel oneself in Paradise when one has 
 to work like this ; but it is very pleasant, only I am getting rather 
 to wish it was over. Fact is, I am trying to read for myself too, 
 and the two don't get on. . . . You say, what do I think of it ? I 
 confess, I think the system extremely good, in fact nearly perfect ; 
 the only thing is that it cannot be entirely acted up to. A house 
 I think a mistake, and the boys are altogether too crowded, the 
 place too small ; and I should think the Headmaster's position 
 was not very pleasant, but the masters associating together, and 
 mixing so much with the boys, is first-rate. There is something to 
 my taste quite delightful in having a fellow in to tea in the evening 
 and setting him an imposition the first thing next morning ; or 
 keeping him in the first part of the afternoon, and playing cricket 
 with him the second quite what a master's work should be. ... 
 If you had any bowels of compassion, you would write to a fellow 
 who was a miserable galley slave, at least once a week say 
 every Toosday for instance ; and the first time you do so tell him 
 about your movements, and give him a tip or two about the place, 
 and what your views on detention are, and what is the best mode of 
 conducting preparation, which institution I hereby solemnly de- 
 nounce and execrate. ... If this epistle is interesting to you, it will 
 speak volumes in favour of your attachment to Marlborough; 
 for the fact is, I am so sleepy that I don't know what I have been 
 writing, and I am going to bed, and I hate morning chapel, and 
 am your affectionate friend. 
 
 It must have been shortly after this letter that 'Edward 
 Bowen sent a brief note (undated) to his mother giving her 
 the list of Fellows elected to Trinity, which had just been 
 published, and also telling her of the proposal with regard 
 to Harrow which had been made to him :
 
 A MEMOIR 55 
 
 Vaughan has just offered me a mastership at Harrow. To 
 begin at Christmas ; a low form, with light work, which is an ad- 
 vantage. Vaughan guarantees 300Z. for the first year, and promises 
 that it shall not be less at all events afterwards. What do you 
 think ? I rather incline towards taking it. 
 
 A little later on he writes again to her : 
 
 I came back yesterday from my visit to Vaughan a very short 
 one but just enough to assure me there was such a place as 
 Harrow. I like Vaughan very much ; even more than I had ex- 
 pected. The place is small, on the top of a hill, and the school 
 externally nothing very imposing ; pretty chapel ; one good 
 sermon from Vaughan; another of horrible and preternatural 
 dullness from some other master. Of course some of the masters 
 are somewhat more advanced in years than the Marlborough men ; 
 in fact, I sha'n't have a soul in the place of my own age within four 
 years either way. 
 
 They hold out dismal prospects of the expensiveness of the 
 place. The absence of lodgings is quite singular ; not a single 
 furnished lodging in the place vacant that they know of. All the 
 openings for a bachelor are : (1) unfurnished apartments over a 
 shop, with no entrance except through it, and the unpleasant 
 possibility always before one's eyes of having one's furniture 
 distrained for rent ; (2) some way from the school a small 
 wooden house of the style, though not the grand appearance, of 
 that one in the Isle of Wight ; for which the charge is, unfurnished, 
 40Z. a year including taxes. It doesn't matter what one has for 
 half a year, or a year, to begin with, as other things may turn 
 up. I rather think I shall take No. 1 if I hear of nothing better. 
 Mrs. Vaughan was very kind. . . . 
 
 This letter seems to dispose of one tradition which has 
 adhered at Harrow to Edward Bowen's first appearance 
 there. It was whispered so runs the legend as the un- 
 known visitor was seen in chapel that he was ' the new 
 master,' and that he had just walked over from Cambridge. 
 There is a further story that after chapel he set out to walk 
 back again, but lost himself in the dark in the neighbour- 
 hood of St. Albans. It seems pretty clear, however, that 
 he had not come from Cambridge at all, but from Marl- 
 borough, and that he returned there immediately. 1 
 
 1 Edward Bowen, however, had, as has already been mentioned, walked 
 from Cambridge to London in his undergraduate days.
 
 56 EDWABD BOWEN 
 
 It was, then, in January 1859 that Edward Bowen entered 
 on his work at Harrow, which was to last over a period of 
 forty-two years, terminating only with his life a period ' to 
 which,' writes a colleague, ' for its wide-spread influence, its 
 versatile brilliance, and its unselfish strenuousness, it would 
 be difficult, if not impossible, to find a parallel.' He was at 
 once thoroughly happy in his profession, though his troubles 
 with regard to the maintenance of order continued for a 
 short while. Thus he writes again to his mother : 
 
 I am getting on all right ; began work absolutely on Thursday, 
 and am now fairly into it. I have thirty-three small boys, from 11 
 to 16, to instruct in Homer, Caesar, and the like, who are, I suppose, 
 pretty much like all other boys, of a playful nature, and generally 
 uncontrollable. The only way is to bully them tremendously at 
 first, but it is easier in theory than practice. 
 
 One who was a couple of terms afterwards in his form, 
 and who is now himself a well-known public schoolmaster, 1 
 bears out in a letter this confession of perplexities in the 
 matter of discipline : 
 
 In those days he was no disciplinarian, and ' quern virum's ' 
 his favourite punishment was this ode flew about freely without 
 much effect. But he soon acquired the power of control, and no 
 one who knew him later would ever suspect his earlier difficulties. 
 
 Edward Bowen had only just completed the first twelve 
 months of his new work, when a critical hour in the fortunes 
 of the School suddenly struck. Dr. Vaughan resigned. His 
 headmastership had lasted over a term of fifteen years, in 
 which time he had been ' in every sense the restorer of 
 Harrow.' The numbers had increased from 69 to 469 ; and the 
 reputation of the School had risen from its lowest, almost to 
 its highest, level. For Dr. Vaughan as a headmaster Edward 
 Bowen ever had the greatest admiration. He would say of 
 him that 'Vaughan invented discipline.' The orderliness 
 of the School arrangements, and the good conduct) of the 
 boys, were to his mind the especial results of that term of 
 government ; and they were results that were enduring. Of 
 his personal relations with the great headmaster in after 
 
 1 Mr. H. Richardson, of Marlborough.
 
 A MEMOIE 57 
 
 years it is not necessary to say anything in detail. They are 
 sufficiently shown by the fact that when Dr. Vaughan was 
 buried (in the autumn of 1897) it was Edward Bowen who 
 read the Lesson. 
 
 The crisis in the history of the School was a grave one, 
 and it was with much anxiety that the decision of the 
 governing body as to Dr. Vaughan's successor was awaited. 
 The choice fell upon an old Harrovian, himself the distin- 
 guished son of a former headmaster of the School. The 
 completeness with which that choice was justified is univer- 
 sally acknowledged. The whole public-school world knows 
 the character of the twenty-five years' headmastership of 
 Dr. H. M. Butler, and is aware how successfully he continued 
 and developed the work of his predecessor. For a quarter 
 of a century the School was privileged to have the advan- 
 tages of his scholarship, his spirituality, his lovable character, 
 his personal charm, his devotion to a great calling. Edward 
 Bowen had been a warm advocate of the appointment upon 
 which the governors determined. As has been said, he had 
 been a pupil of Dr. Butler's at Cambridge, and he had learned 
 there to appreciate his new chief's high attainments. Twenty- 
 five years of colleagueship and close friendship were now to 
 commence for him, in wilich his own reputation was to be 
 born and to grow almost to its fullest and ripest manhood. 
 In the greatness and increase of that reputation few, 
 if any, had truer joy and pride than the Headmaster, 
 whose chivalry and magnanimity rendered impossible the 
 jealousy which a small and mean man might have felt, 
 and who was always eager to recognise and publish abroad 
 the brilliancy and success of his subordinate. Through all 
 those many many ' months of worry and work ' some diver- 
 sities of view could scarcely fail perhaps to arise at times ; 
 but whatever the minor differences of opinion that may now 
 and again have asserted themselves over questions of school 
 management, they were never such as to over-cloud the 
 sunshine of their personal friendship. 
 
 Edward Bowen found at Harrow traditions as to the 
 relations of masters and boys somewhat different from those 
 which he had welcomed at Marlborough. The Harrow
 
 58 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 masters were an older and consequently a more conservative 
 set of men ; and they did not as a rule permit, much less 
 encourage, that intimacy between masters and pupils which 
 is now a generally recognised feature in public-school life. 
 It is true that attempts were being made by two or three of 
 the younger and fresher members of the staff to break down 
 a barrier which was both unreasonable and mischievous, but 
 there was a strong opposition in favour of its retention as 
 necessary to discipline and to the dignity of the teacher. So 
 far did this opposition go, that Edward Bowen was remon- 
 strated with on one occasion by a senior colleague for walking 
 to his house in conversation with two or three boys. His 
 own strong feeling was of course all the other way, and he 
 soon showed it in a set of verses entitled, * The Battle of the 
 Bolts,' of which the exact date is uncertain, but which un- 
 questionably comes from these early years. The satire is 
 descriptive of a meeting of the gods (the masters), in which 
 the subject of their dealings with mortals (the boys) comes 
 under discussion. Olympus is aware that all is not right, and 
 that a revision of policy is in some sort desirable. Their 
 authority over mortals is not what it was. The bolts are 
 not feared as they once were, and as they ought to be. 
 What is to be done ? The various deities give their opinions, 
 the council being exceedingly disturbed at a revolutionary 
 suggestion from Mercury, ' Suppose we turn human.' Under 
 the masks of the several gods the faces of various masters 
 are of course to be recognised. Mercury is Edward Bowen 
 himself, and his suggestion, which causes so much alarm 
 and distress among his celestial colleagues, represents the 
 young master's view of the attitude of sympathy and 
 familiarity which the teacher should adopt towards the 
 taught. The following are the verses, which are given in 
 their entirety ; for though the fun is perhaps here and there 
 a little merciless, it is not of a character to give any real 
 pain, even if the identification of the speakers J>e satis- 
 factorily established. The verses show, too, beneath all the 
 banter and levity which characterise them externally, the 
 struggle of two ideals. The old order ' is seen ' yielding 
 place to new ; ' not, however, ' lest one good custom should
 
 A MEMOIR 59 
 
 corrupt the world,' but because bad customs, however sin- 
 cerely and earnestly upheld, are not invincible, and as 
 another poet has reminded us 'the forts of folly' will at 
 last 'fall.' 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOLTS 
 
 A FRAGMENT 
 
 To the gods of Olympus 'twas Jupiter spoke ; 
 
 His previous orations had ended in smoke : 
 
 But to-night, he declared, he had called them together 
 
 On matters more pressing than diet or weather. 
 
 He had felt to be candid profoundly convinced, 
 
 Since the council last sat here his majesty winced 
 
 That, for obvious reasons, the present relation 
 
 Of heaven to earth needed modification ; 
 
 But if each of their godheads would make a suggestion, 
 
 With a view to throw light on this intricate question, 
 
 He earnestly hoped it might aid them to find 
 
 Some means of regaining their hold on mankind. 
 
 He felt with regret, he must own, to the last 
 
 That his aegis was numbered with things of the past. 
 
 Nowadays, when it flashed on Olympus' top summit, 
 
 Men peered through their glasses, and called it a comet ! 
 
 None cared for the Gorgon ; and as for the bolts, 
 
 They were obsolete quite, beside Whitworth's or Colt's. 
 
 He had tried them last year; but, of all his sharp-shooting, 
 
 The only effect was to set mortals hooting. 
 
 Besides, it was whispered that some of their number 
 
 Had come to regard them as nothing but lumber. 
 
 Grave rumours had reached him he hoped they were fibs 
 
 That Mars had not scrupled to christen them ' squibs ; ' 
 
 Nay, had modelled himself an infernal machine 
 
 On a plan ' scientific ' whate'er that might mean : 
 
 Which, as novelties here were tabooed by the laws, . 
 
 Had gone off down on earth with the greatest applause. 
 
 The gods would remember how, ages ago, 
 
 Some villain stole matches for mortals below ; 
 
 (If not, he might briefly remind them, 'twas then 
 
 That Mercury pilfered tobacco from men). 
 
 He referred to the case, since he had an impression 
 
 All troubles were due to that fatal concession ;
 
 60 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Indeed, he had never found mortals refractory 
 While Vulcan's was still the one bolt-manufactory. 
 But now that mankind had discovered a means 
 To menace the skies from their own magazines, 
 The louder he thundered, the faster he nodded, 
 The greater the scorn that was heaped on his godhead ; 
 And do what he would to uphold his dominion, 
 It was hopeless to fight against Public Opinion. 
 
 He paused ; but instead of the usual Babel, 
 The council sat mum, and looked hard at the table ; 
 Till Pluto, as lord of the lower domain, 
 Broke silence at length in the following strain : 
 
 ' Your godheads will hardly consider it strange 
 If I own my opinion averse to all change. 
 The rule I have followed has always been this, 
 That what has been is best for the subjects of Dis. 
 Beneath my own sceptre the least disaffection 
 Is nipped in the bud by remorseless correction ; 
 Nay, some have been doomed, beyond hope of appeal, 
 Like the culprits of old, to the stone and the wheel. 
 As regards our defences, I beg to declare, 
 They are still in my judgment as good as they were ; 
 Men talk of their needle-guns, science, and stuff : 
 Why, let them invade us, we've powder enough ! 
 Time was, when your majesty's thunderbolt flashed 
 On braggarts confounded, and Titans abashed. 
 'Tis potent as ever ; be deaf to this din ; 
 We shall find it a fatal mistake to give in. 
 If aught be amiss, the young gods are in fault, 
 Whom I've always considered unworthy their salt. 
 While Mars perseveres in such frivolous scenes 
 As the firing of pop-guns and other machines, 
 No wonder irreverent mortals declare 
 That we bowl without bloodshed, and live without care. 
 But are we such lack-wits ? Can no one propose 
 Some fun in the way of bombardment or blows ? 
 Some foray or fisticuff, sally or siege, j t 
 
 A rouge or a scrummage, a squash or a squeedge ? 
 Here's Mercury ready top-booted and spurred 
 Let him go down to earth, look about, and bring word. 
 Daddy Vulcan meanwhile might be shaping your bolts 
 On the latest improvement in Whitworth's or Colt's :
 
 A MEMOIE 61 
 
 And Ganymede too might be spared from the cup 
 To take your old aegis, and polish it up.' 
 
 Thus warily spoke he, while, elbow on hip, 
 Mars glared at him restlessly, biting his lip ; 
 Nor yet had the thunder-cloud passed from his brows, 
 When Juno arose, and thus rated her spouse : 
 
 ' Ye faint-hearted craven, ye timorous dolt, 
 I'd just like to see ye dispense with your bolt. 
 What else are ye king for ? Was this what ye said 
 When I gave you my hand, and consented to wed ? 
 There's conspiracy somewhere and that's what it means 
 I knew what 'ud come of infernal machines. 
 And let me tell Mars, that, if I catch him near, 
 I'll trounce him, I will, with a box on each ear. 
 Turn traitor indeed, and not blush to avow it ! 
 Well, if I was his father, I wouldn't allow it ! ' 
 
 And more had she said, but an ill-concealed laugh 
 From Hebe behind cut her lecture in half ; 
 And Jove, who was glad to be rid of her slang, 
 Tipped Neptune a wink to commence his harangue. 
 
 The earth-shaker rose, and, appeasing the storm, 
 Gave his hearty support to the cause of reform. 
 He was loth, he confessed who would quarrel with ladies ? 
 To dissent toto marl from Here and Hades : 
 But felt that, at least in a nautical quarter, 
 Their logic would hardly be thought to hold water. 
 He avoided dry land ; but from what he had heard, 
 He was sure that the hurling of bolts was absurd. 
 Despising himself the old method of war, 
 He had quite discontinued his trident and car, 
 And chosen, in place of the old bugaboo, 
 To paddle his" way in the agile canoe. 
 If it were not presumptuous to offer advice, 
 He should move to abolish the bolts in a trice. 
 No doubt other gods would bring forward their schemes ; 
 He believed in a system of telegraphemes, 
 As the best by which Jove might discover his will, 
 And the flash of the lightning be utilised still. 
 Let a parley be held : it might then be arranged 
 That the old constitution of things should be changed.
 
 62 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 Olympus must sacrifice something : till then 
 It was useless to fret for the oxen of men. 
 
 Then peering about her, half-twinkle, half-scowl, 
 Spake Pallas, grey-eyed and demure as her owl : 
 ' Had it been our good fortune to guess that the cause 
 Of our meeting to-night appertained to the laws, 
 We had come better armed to so weighty a session, 
 And spoken at length with our usual discretion. 
 As it is, we refrain : on a future occasion 
 We shall hope to make up for to-night's moderation. 
 Yet ere we sit down, we would beg to endorse 
 What the last speaker urged with such eloquent force ; 
 The more, that ourselves have so long recommended 
 The very same system for which he contended.' 
 
 So saying, she paused with a satisfied air, 
 And Bacchus addressed himself next to the chair. 
 Quoth he, ' By my beard ' 'twas a prominent feature 
 1 Man is but a stupid, tho' excellent, creature. 
 On a cranium so thick, that your majesty's thunder 
 Should fail of its proper effect, is no wonder ; 
 But how, if the order of things were reversed, 
 And, instead of his skull, we appealed to his thirst ? 
 'Tis said that the gods, by their nectar reclined, 
 Contentedly bowl at the heads of mankind ; 
 I move as this course only renders them thicker 
 That we lay by our bolts, and try hurling our liquor.' 
 
 He ceased, and a general titter ensued ; 
 Some even maliciously whispered, ' He's screwed.' 
 Jove saw he was drowsy, so nodded his head, 
 And the comical god tottered early to bed ! 
 
 Next Vulcan, who halted on one of his pins, 
 Delivered his mind against everyone's shins : 
 Called Mars an impostor, and Neptune ' old buffer,' 
 And vowed that the trade of Olympus would suffer. 
 Week in and week out, let alone other wrongs, 
 He had slaved in Jove's armoury hammer and tongs'; 
 Had sweated and smelted, had battered and blown, 
 To perfect his art in support of the throne ; 
 Till, for certain effect and spontaneous ignition, 
 There was nothing to equal the bolt-composition.
 
 A MEMOIE 63 
 
 And now to be shelved by a radical clique ! 
 
 What god could endure to sit quietly meek, 
 
 And hear, without feeling his vitals grow warm, 
 
 Eank treason discussed in the name of Keform ? 
 
 He believed that mankind were a turbulent lot, 
 
 Whose insolent gibes must be checked by hot shot. 
 
 There was nothing, depend on't, would awe them to silence, 
 
 But a high-handed system of organised vi'lence. 
 
 Then Mulciber spouted, defiantly game, 
 Till Mars murmured, ' Question,' and Bacchus cried, ' Shame ! ' 
 Apollo rose next, with his usual suavity, 
 And balanced each word on its centre of gravity : 
 ' 'Tis patent to any intelligent mind, 
 That mortals are leaving Olympus behind : 
 All earth is progressive ; we only cling fast 
 To the ruins and rags of an obsolete past. 
 The gods are aware I prefer to adduce 
 Philosophical reasons against an abuse. 
 Let us seek for a rc'Xos but no, 'tis so late, 
 A reA.05 had better be put to debate.' 
 
 Then Mars gat him up, and a shudder ran round, 
 For his speech fell as hail when it leaps on the ground. 
 His points they were vivid, his metaphors strong, 
 And every sixth word was five syllables long : 
 1 Why babble ye thus ? Dotards ! what do ye mean 
 By railing at me and my paltry machine ? 
 Bail on, if ye will ; dispossess me, denounce. 
 I care not a twopenny rap for your bounce. 
 Infatuate beings, unpolicied, blind ! 
 Eeform is too late, for OLYMPUS is MINED ! 
 E'en now, while this pother we keep overhead, 
 A siege as of old on my sight rushes red ; 
 The legions of earth are come up to the fray, 
 And we must be victors for ever, or they. 
 Proud tamer of mortals ! thy segis is bare, 
 Thy fast-flashing thunderbolt hurtles in air ; 
 Thy eagle is whetting his beak with his claws, 
 Heaven's batteries roar, and earth only guffaws. 
 I tell thee then, lame one, that, helpless to help, 
 The bolts that thou forgest are brickdust and kelp : 
 Go turn, an thou wilt, to thy bellows again ; 
 But the sceptre of gods is departed to men ! '
 
 64 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 He ended, and Vulcan, who felt like a dance, 
 Was for hurling him down out of heaven at once, 
 But while all were declining the active of pwrrw, 
 Up Mercury got, and harangued them on tiptoe : 
 ' By jingo ! if mortals refuse to obey us, 
 I vote for returning to-morrow to chaos. 
 Let us leave to mankind I mean no animosity 
 A few of the bolts as a rare curiosity. 
 In sight of the world we might easily gibbet them, 
 And Vulcan could stay, if he pleased, to exhibit them : 
 Or else, we might leave them to rust on the shelves, 
 With a notice to say, " We had bolted ourselves : " 
 Or, stay, there's another alternative still 
 (I'm exceedingly loth to make anyone ill) : 
 But suppose we turn human : the deified tell us 
 That men are not monsters, but excellent fellows. 
 You all must allow that at this time of year 
 There's a terrible lack of amusement up here ; 
 But if we were human just fancy the fun, 
 For the pastimes of men are a thousand and one ; 
 If botany fails, we can try bagatelle ; 
 When we're tired of squails, metaphysics, or mell : 
 So methinks that reform should be sought in a process 
 I'll call by analogy apoandrosis.' 
 
 Thus spake he, and Jove felt his knees growing loose ; 
 Dis hid his emotion and merely said, ' Goose ! ' 
 Aphrodite collapsed, and went off in a faint ; 
 And Vulcan, as usual, was loud in complaint ; 
 Minerva almost dropped a stitch in her knitting ; 
 And the council at twenty past twelve was left sitting. 
 
 In 1863 Edward Bowen was asked to accept a ' small ' 
 house, which had been under the charge of Mr. (many years 
 afterwards Bishop) Westcott. It was one of the little red- 
 brick houses at the top of Grove Hill, with its view from the 
 back windows towards Hampstead ; and ' Hampstead lights ' 
 were as time went on to be the subject of one of the most 
 beautiful of the School songs. The house was, with some 
 others, especially intended for delicate boys, who were 
 scarcely fit for the somewhat rougher life of the bigger 
 houses, and the number of pupils resident in it would vary
 
 A MEMOIE 65 
 
 from six to twelve. There is a small garden behind, and on 
 one side of the house is a diminutive yard in which about 
 three boys can play at a time a spurious form of cricket. 
 Here Edward Bowen lived till 1882, and there are many 
 in whose memories he will be as closely associated with this 
 earlier home, as with the later and much larger one. When 
 the offer was first made to him he was very loth to avail 
 himself of it, and he finally accepted it only because accept- 
 ance was pressed upon him as a duty to the School. Nor 
 was his work as a house-master at any rate to begin with 
 so congenial to him as his work as a form-master or tutor. 
 There were, too, he found, special difficulties attaching to 
 the management of a few boys by themselves, and to the 
 maintenance under those circumstances of the qualities 
 which are encouraged by the larger groupings and associa- 
 tions of them usually found in public schools. He refers 
 to the subject in a letter to a friend. 
 
 Nov. 8, 1865. 
 
 I think the only form in which boys are a nuisance is in the 
 house. One is so tied up to hours ; and the parents will keep 
 writing letters ; and there is always the chance the boys may 
 set the house on fire. I like all the form work, the public teaching, 
 very much, and the tutor's work still more, when you have pupils 
 who are attached permanently to you while they are at the school. 
 And more still, the general society and intercourse of school, 
 playing games, casual interests of every kind in a word, the 
 microcosm of school. But the idea of a small house is all a 
 mistake. Six or seven boys are too many to have as a kind of 
 family ; and too few to have the traditions, public feeling, dignity, 
 self-respect, courtesy, by which mainly a large house is governed 
 and influenced so influenced indeed that half one's work, so far 
 at least as one's anxieties go, consists in half indirect, half direct, 
 efforts to modify ancl control this public opinion. 
 
 A story which has been preserved by one of Edward 
 Bowen's friends shows that he still retained as indeed he 
 retained in some measure to the end the semi-Bohemianism 
 which had somewhat characterised him at Trinity. His 
 mother had come to see him in his new house, and, as she sat 
 in the drawing room, she complained of a draught which she
 
 66 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 located as coming from above the window. ' I don't think 
 it can be from there,' said her son, ' for I have put in a coat 
 and a rug ; but I'll put in another coat.' There was a 
 yawning gap in the wall above the window, which he had in 
 this way endeavoured to fill up ! 
 
 During these earlier years of his professional life Edward 
 Bowen was a constant contributor, as was his elder brother, 
 to the famous ' Saturday Review,' and he also wrote more 
 than one article for the ' National Review,' a magazine 
 somewhat after the type of the present ' Quarterly ' or 
 'Edinburgh.' It is to be feared that, with the exception of 
 an article on 'Games,' which is not of any permanent 
 interest, 1 and another to which reference will be made later 
 on, and it may be one or two others, all the articles sent 
 to the ' Saturday Review ' are now beyond identification ; 
 but an allusion in one of his letters renders it possible 
 definitely to assign to him an important article in the 
 January number, 1863, of the ' National Review,' on ' Bishop 
 Colenso on the Pentateuch,' and another not less note- 
 worthy in the October number in the same year, and in 
 the same publication, on ' The recent Criticism of the Old 
 Testament.' This latter was a review more especially of 
 Dr. Davidson's ' Introduction to the Old Testament.' In 
 both articles the writer shows himself a strong and uncom- 
 promising advocate of the critical school, and there are 
 irrefragable evidences of his complete separation at this 
 time from the old Evangelical methods of thought and 
 interpretation in which he had been brought up a separa- 
 tion which, it need hardly be said, was continuous and final. 
 There are indeed signs and traces of his genuine sympathy 
 with those to whom the loss of the old conservative views 
 was as the passing of a world ; but he writes with some 
 severity of others who, by clinging themselves and requiring 
 others to cling to ' impossible loyalties,' add unnecessarily to 
 the trials, the difficulties, the perplexities, of religious faith. 
 Edward Bowen felt that the ' Higher Criticism ' was as the 
 opening of a prison door, and the discharge of men from the 
 unhealthy atmosphere of moral and intellectual confinement 
 1 His ' U.U.' essay on the same subject was much later.
 
 A MEMOIR 67 
 
 to the fresh, pure, invigorating air. To him, as to so many 
 others, questions hitherto unanswered found their satisfactory 
 reply, problems hitherto unsolved received their clear and 
 sufficient solution, when the Bible was found to be a human 
 book and to be supernatural only in the sense doubtless a 
 very solemn and inspiring one that there is a supernatural 
 force ever co-operating with the spirit of man. 
 
 The first of the two reviews, 1 that on Bishop Colenso 
 written, it must be remembered, at the age of twenty-six 
 sets out with the aphorism that ' among the heroes who have 
 done the greatest service to their race, it is hardly paradoxical 
 to assert that the thanks of the world are chiefly due to those 
 who have most boldly ventured to differ from it.' The 
 dangers that come from obstinacy are greater than those which 
 come from innovation, and ' if rashness may lead to error, 
 prejudice cannot possibly lead to truth.' In intellectual 
 matters a man should never wed himself indissolubly to 
 his views : 
 
 The domain of theology supplies a striking proof of the truth of 
 these assertions. It is impossible to deny that scriptural criticism 
 in the last few years has received far more from the enemies, than 
 from the friends, of a rigorous theological conservatism. Whether 
 orthodox views be true or not, it is not orthodox divinity which 
 has brought about the vast progress that has been lately made in 
 the knowledge of Sacred Writ. So it has been from the earliest 
 ages of the faith. St. Paul was more than suspected of heresy 
 when he offered the Gospel to the Gentiles. All the superstition 
 and tyranny of which the Church has been guilty has been due to 
 its conservative champions ; every step of progress has been first 
 trodden by one who refused its yoke. It surely is more than a 
 chance coincidence that the first known commentary on Scripture, 
 the first extant canon of the sacred books, even the first virtual 
 assertion of their inspiration, are all from the hands of heretics. 
 A Protestant Church should deal but little in anathema, which 
 remembers that the first protest for freedom of private judgment 
 came from the heretic Luther. In modern times, the task of 
 
 1 The essay contains a good deal that is no longer of general interest in its 
 somewhat detailed examination of Bishop Colenso's work. It has therefore not 
 been inserted in the Appendices ; but extracts are here given which will show 
 the general attitude of the writer's mind, as well as the great ability of the 
 article. 
 
 rl
 
 68 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 ' searching the Scriptures ' has been pre-eminently the work of 
 writers who have bowed with some reservation to their authority. 
 ' The Bible as it is, and its interpretation as it was ! ' Such, if we 
 may parody a modern party watchword, is the rallying cry of too 
 much English divinity. It is a maxim from which little light can 
 spring, and in which all superstition may lie hid. In the stir and 
 tumult of critical controversy, amid the harvests of fresh knowledge 
 that are springing up in Germany and England, in face of the 
 patience, zeal, and courage of the pioneers of theological labour, a 
 large party of our Churchmen claim ostentatiously, like the faded 
 constitutionalists of France, to have forgotten nothing and learnt 
 nothing. And yet action is so much better than inaction, progress 
 than inertia, that knowledge is cheaply purchased at the risk of 
 some rash caprice. Let men have freedom of inquiry, of speech, 
 and of thought, and leave the consequences to the future. The 
 first article in the creed of every friend of intellectual progress 
 should be, that conservatism in intellectual questions is the head 
 and front of error. 
 
 The Eeformation, the writer observes, had brought with it 
 a great shock, for it had necessitated the surrender of the 
 belief in the infallibility of the Church ; but the surrender 
 of the belief in the infallibility of the Bible would be a shock 
 which was no less tremendous. And yet it was one which 
 needs must come, and the time had arrived for ' speaking 
 out,' since silence and reticence were ceasing to be in any 
 way possible. There were, indeed, not a few who would 
 welcome a frank expression of the truth, and who would be 
 encouraged by it to throw off the mask which they felt con- 
 strained to wear. But whether welcome or unwelcome, the 
 truth must out, and it had better be told with candour and 
 sincerity. 
 
 It becomes more and more impossible every day to screen a 
 conviction of the mistakes contained in the Bible by a general 
 profession of reverence for its majesty and beauty. We are not 
 speaking of what we do not know, when we assert that a general 
 liberty to profess such views as those of the Bishop of Natal would 
 be hailed with delight by numbers of half-hypocritical students 
 clergymen and laymen alike who at present are contented to wait 
 and see their liberation coming, and are afraid to raise a hand to 
 seize it. The ' Essays and Reviews,' with all their faults of rudeness
 
 A MEMOIR 69 
 
 and rashness, did this great service that they roused the public 
 from its slumber. As one instance of progress hardly less remark- 
 able than that of Bishop Colenso, we may take a writer whom 
 he frequently quotes on the reactionary side of the debated 
 questions. Seven years ago Dr. Kalisch published his Commentary 
 on Exodus ; and with considerable ingenuity, and apparent can- 
 dour, he defended the authority of the text, and refuted the 
 objections of adversaries. Three years later Genesis appeared, 
 and in the preface there is this remarkable passage : ' The convic- 
 tion of the surpassing importance of the book has strengthened us 
 to face the numerous difficulties of a conscientious interpretation.' 
 In other words, the author had made up his mind to speak out. 
 And the difference in value between the two Commentaries is such 
 as might have been expected from the change. 
 
 Of Bishop Colenso's book itself, the reviewer speaks 
 highly. ' It is courteous, truthful, and reverent.' He enters 
 at some length into the Bishop's arguments, emphasising 
 the popular character of the volume and the effectiveness 
 which such a characteristic supplies : 
 
 He has mastered his brief well, knows its strong points, under- 
 stands the men he is talking to, lets slip no advantage, and ends 
 by creating an impression on his hearers which a far abler or more 
 subtle pleader might strive in vain, with all his ingenuity, to 
 produce. As it is, he makes few blunders ; but it may be fairly 
 said, that if his book had been more learned it would very probably 
 have been less effectual. 
 
 The writer then goes on, after dwelling somewhat upon 
 the historical inconsistencies in the Pentateuch, to express his 
 assent to the theory of composite authorship as affording the 
 necessary key to the various difficulties. The Pentateuch 
 does not come from the Mosaic age that fact criticism puts 
 beyond all doubt. So too it can be shown to contain evident 
 and undeniable inaccuracies : 
 
 It follows that we have a right to consider it freely. And now 
 what reason is there which obliges us to look at it as of a totally 
 different nature, as belonging to a different order of literature, from 
 the literature of any other country ? It is different in many respects 
 no doubt. It has a higher antiquity, imparts more valuable in- 
 formation, and is inspired with grander ideas. But why should it
 
 70 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 be different in kind ? It is written in human language, reveals 
 human sympathies and passions, embodies human imagination and 
 poetry. The thoughts of other nations in the earliest ages clothed 
 themselves in legend ; why should we not allow that those of the 
 Jews did the same ? ' The ass said unto Balaam,' ' Bos locutus ' 
 where is the wide interval between the two assertions, beyond the 
 fact, which we readily allow to the credit of the Jew, that his 
 representation of the marvellous times of old bears a higher stamp 
 of moral and religious earnestness ? The gradual change in the 
 tone of the earlier books of Scripture is exactly similar to that of 
 the primitive records of all nations ; it begins with pure myths 
 surely few will deny that the material Garden of Eden, with its 
 fruit of the tree of knowledge, is, whatever its import be, a myth 
 some idea of good and evil, happiness and sorrow, enshrined in 
 a framework of physical and unreal circumstances. Gradually it 
 advances through the legendary stage, where true and solid history 
 is blended with the subjective colouring of a period which thinks it 
 unsuitable to the dignity of past ages to represent them as exactly 
 like the present ; finally, it comes down to the stage when facts are 
 given as they are, with only the errors that accident or imperfect 
 information introduces. How genuine, how real, the offspring of 
 the national mind appears, if viewed in this light ! No one who 
 has not tried can tell the delight with which the critic, when he has 
 once thrown off the cramping influence of a fancied superhuman 
 infallibility, enters into the study of the sacred narrative, as some- 
 thing with which he can freely sympathise, and sees in the early 
 history of the Hebrew race a field for the exercise of all the in- 
 genuity, patience, and skill, which the stories of Greece and Eome 
 have for ages monopolised to themselves. 
 
 The last pages of the review are also full of interest, both 
 on account of their subject-matter and their literary beauty, 
 and may be quoted in their entirety : 
 
 Do we, then, mean to assert, it may be asked, that the earlier 
 books of the Jews are a mere tissue of fable and falsehood? 
 Certainly not. No race has given to the world such insight into 
 primitive history, or inspired it with so lofty a religious spirit. 
 Compare it with the Vedas ; the early traditions of a race ' akin to 
 ourselves are worthless by the side of the records of this Semitic 
 people, whose history is the only history, and their poetry the only 
 poetry, that millions of Christians have ever read or heard. Pour 
 thousand years ago, one family, the sons of Abraham, who traced
 
 A MEMOIE 71 
 
 their origin to the plains of the Euphrates, separated themselves 
 from the Canaanites, perhaps their kinsmen, and carved out their 
 history for themselves. All we know of their religious institutions 
 at that early period is, that they, with some few others, of whom 
 but a trace is left, served the Most High God. The necessities and 
 chances of an Arab life made them dwellers for a time in Egypt, 
 the land of civilisation and culture. Of their hegira from that 
 house of bondage, the genius of their leader, the rapid organisation 
 which he planted among their still half-savage tribes, the wild life 
 which they led for years in the country south and east of Jordan, 
 the long struggle by which they won their land tradition only, 
 which yet left the name of Moses to lie dormant among them for 
 centuries, and a few fragmentary documents, preserved the mar- 
 vellous record. But it was handed down among them with a 
 fidelity which lasted through centuries of trouble and anarchy, 
 that the God whom they served had led His people like sheep, and 
 done wonders in the field of Zoan. It is this belief, this deter- 
 minate monotheism, the sacred heirloom of the tribe, which 
 gives to the political history of Israel its wonderful charm and 
 interest. For a change came quickly over the temper of the nation. 
 In what way the kingly spirit and the centralising tendencies of 
 the priesthood struggled against the old simplicity of worship and 
 government, we have but here and there a trace. In the conflicts 
 of Samuel and Saul, maintained in spirit through generations of 
 kings and prophets, we have here these two elements at work the 
 element of political order and religious ordinance, and the element 
 of patriarchal loyalty to the Theocracy. David, the most wonderful 
 character of Jewish history, after long warfare, and not without 
 the aid of foreign body-guards, usurped and held the kingdom, and 
 to some extent reconciled the two. But succeeding ages show the 
 same struggle again. Ceremony and system the Scylla of a nation 
 which is in peril of losing the early vividness of its faith battled 
 with fanaticism, its Charybdis. Priests against prophets we know 
 which side our European sympathies will take. Not that the 
 priestly spirit had'not its good side ; it was for political progress, 
 for order, for literature. The devotional spirit, which it combined 
 with its own ritualism and engrafted on the fervour of its oppo- 
 nents, shows itself in the loftiness of Jeremiah, and the impassioned 
 oratory of Deuteronomy. But the prophets were the salt of the 
 Hebrew nation. When liberal alliances would have endangered 
 the faith of the nation, these aristocrats of religious purity de- 
 nounced them in words of fire. When a corrupt priestcraft held 
 up its sacrifices and cleansings for a people to fall down and
 
 72 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 worship, it was they who tore the veil from its hypocrisies, and 
 claimed the sacrifice of the heart. And in the end, when the 
 miserable and defeated nation saw no hope or refuge left for their 
 ambition, and were ready to bow down to the idols which it had 
 been their ancestral mission to denounce, it was they who held up 
 Messianism before their weary eyes, that never-failing solace of 
 the oppressed, and even dared to proclaim, in lieu of their earthly 
 sovereignty, a spiritual supremacy of the world, and a kingdom 
 that should never pass away. So runs the history of the race 
 who seem, more than all others in the world, to have lived indeed 
 in earnest. They are our religious forefathers ; their old records 
 have a meaning for us, and the very poetry which covers them is 
 almost sacred to our eyes. To condemn them to oblivion would 
 be to sacrifice much more than the mere tale of the journeys and 
 battles of a tribe. They are the treasures of a nation of whose 
 mission in the world we ourselves have reaped the fruit. ' If I 
 forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.' 
 
 And yet Christianity, civilisation, labour, have educated us to 
 see the defects of what we so highly prize. We miss, as it is 
 natural we should, severity of historic truth in a nation in whom 
 the critical faculty absolutely had no existence ; and we detect 
 unworthy ideas of the Deity and His government in the writings 
 of men whom it needed a higher faith to purify and exalt. The 
 result is, that of the exact nature of the events recorded, the historic 
 reality of many details, the extent to which fact has become mixed 
 with legend, we must patiently remain in ignorance. A ' mythic ' 
 theory has tried to sift this, as other narratives, and failed ; pure 
 rationalism has tried, and with no better success. No one who 
 has studied Exodus with care will deny that much of it is true. 
 A conscientious inquiry makes it evident that part of it is not. 
 Where the line is to be drawn, how far we may implicitly trust 
 the record, no labour can with certainty determine. Here, as 
 elsewhere, the truest philosophy will be the first to confess its 
 own impotence. 
 
 There is one school of writers from whose influence English 
 theology may specially pray to be delivered. Open intolerance, 
 stubborn prejudice, are obstacles which may be attacked with 
 simple arguments, and from a sure footing. The most useful 
 auxiliary to the cause of reactionary interpretation is that tone of 
 mingled patronage and contempt which implies an involuntary 
 respect for the theories to- which outward circumstances alone 
 necessitate an apparent opposition. There are some writers 
 whose views are just liberal enough to add additional zest to
 
 A MEMOIR 73 
 
 their hatred of intellectual thoroughness. So far as they know the 
 truth, the truth has made them slaves. It is a poor compromise 
 between conscience on the one hand and literary obligations on 
 the other, to imply an obscure assent to an opinion, and make 
 up for it by abusing its advocate. Writers in such a position are 
 forced into a dogmatism which betrays itself by its very acrimony. 
 To urge that Dr. Colenso's book is worthless because some texts 
 are quoted inaccurately, shows feebleness of judgment. To infer 
 that because he states questions in detail, his arguments must 
 therefore be superficial, indicates want of logical power. To 
 blame the bishop for publicly supporting a view, and at the same 
 time to hint its truthfulness, is an inconsistency which argues 
 either dullness or hypocrisy, or both. Such writers may be simply 
 told, that the contempt which they profess recoils on them with 
 augmented force from the candid students of theology. Even 
 their half-hearted and disguised support brings little credit to the 
 cause of honesty and courage. Not with such weapons as these, 
 nor with such champions to lead the fight, is the battle of progress 
 and of religious liberty to be fought. 
 
 The mass of Englishmen would be surprised if they knew how 
 tumultuously the spirit of rebellion against religious dogmatism, 
 and specially the dogma of Biblical infallibility, is seething in the 
 breasts of men who yet shrink from notoriety and the odium 
 which it brings. As a body, the educated world has discarded 
 these notions already. Among the younger generation of students 
 the Bible is freely regarded as open to unfettered criticism. It is 
 only in public and in print that they fear to be candid ; among 
 one another they take the questions for granted. Religious liberty 
 is the watchword of the tacit understanding which prevails in 
 literary society on the subject. For severe criticism all men have 
 not the leisure or the inclination ; but upon the right to criticise, 
 and the general result of this particular discussion, the writers 
 and thinkers of this nation are in an accordance of which the 
 dogmatists little dream. It is not a healthy state of things. 
 It is a bad thing that the students should be so far ahead 
 of the actors in the world ; and it presses with terrible weight 
 upon those who are newly setting out on the path of study. 
 The sense of encountering at every onward step the mandate of 
 opinion and authority, the consciousness that the road to Biblical 
 investigation is paved with anathemas, bears more heavily on the 
 candid inquirer than we care to picture. For that terror, that 
 agony, which rolls with overwhelming pain upon so many minds 
 when they first are forced to examine the truth of what they have
 
 74 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 been taught, the fatal prejudices of past generations are respon- 
 sible. Perhaps there is no suffering in the world more keen than 
 religious doubt. May Heaven forgive those who, by overloading 
 belief and stifling inquiry, make its pangs more severe ! ' A shell 
 shot into the fortress of the - soul ! Cast it out ! ' cries episcopal 
 placidity. ' Doubt manfully on, till labour brings conviction,' 
 we reply. He who ' despiseth not the sighing of a contrite heart, 
 nor the desire of such as be sorrowful,' will care as much for 
 the distresses of honest scepticism as for the panics of startled 
 orthodoxy. 
 
 ' These difficulties are left as a trial of our faith.' From our child- 
 hood up we have ever regarded that as a cruel and wicked fallacy. 
 Doubts are to be solved either by intellectual or by moral means. 
 If by intellectual reasoning, the issue cannot depend upon 
 religious faith ; if by moral determination, we reject with all the 
 emphasis of which we are capable the doctrine that there is any 
 other virtue which can enter into the examination of a contro- 
 versial problem than honesty, energy, and perseverance. Yes : 
 perhaps they are given to us as a trial of faith, to see if we have 
 strength to work them out. That courage and trust can be but 
 faint which shrink from inquiry through dread of its uncertain 
 issue. Let us repay God's gift of intellect by honest and trustful 
 use of it. ' Fear indeed hath torment ; but'perfect love casteth out 
 fear.' 
 
 There are some who look into these questions, some who read 
 this treatise of the bishop, who will feel, as they concede a reluc- 
 tant assent to its arguments, that the prop of life has suddenly been 
 taken from them. They will think, sadly enough, that if the 
 Book on which they had learnt to depend for strength and solace 
 is now withdrawn from their adoration, there is nothing left to fill 
 its place. For years perhaps they have hung on its pages with 
 rapture : they have yielded implicit obedience to its laws ; they 
 have fled to its promises for comfort ; they have trusted to its 
 sentences for wisdom. Now it seems as if a heartless criticism 
 were stepping in between them and their God, and robbing them 
 of all that is precious in the world. As the awful divinity of its 
 pages seems to fade away, they fancy that the air they breathe 
 seems colder, and the scenes they gaze on less bright. The 
 newer interpretations may be true, the old theories may turn out 
 mistaken ; but it is all that they have had to bear them through 
 the manifold trials of life. Like Sir Bedivere, they seem to step 
 onward into a world that knows them not.
 
 A MEMOIR 75 
 
 ' And I, the last, go forth companionless, 
 And the days darken round me, and the years, 
 Among new men, strange faces, other minds.' 
 
 So be it. ' God fulfils Himself in many ways.' To such as these 
 a superhuman record may have been the fit instrument to lead 
 them through the perilous journey of the world ; none the less 
 must those, who live with the labours of the past and their own 
 consciences to guide them, tread boldly wherever their judgment 
 leads. The camps are not hostile ; the paths are not divergent. 
 Or, if human passions and the ignorance that is in us bring 
 trouble and enmity for a time between those who profess each to 
 fight for truth, there is yet a unity that lies deeper than their 
 differences ; there is a harmony which in the sight of Heaven their 
 discords cannot avail to drown ; there is a sympathy which, 
 beyond the feuds of criticism and the jarring subtleties of debate, 
 binds together those who labour for the same high calling, and 
 name the same holy name. 
 
 The second of these theological essays appeared in the 
 October number of the same year (1863), and is, as has been 
 said, professedly a review of Dr. Davidson's ' Introduction 
 to the Old Testament,' though it travels over much more 
 ground than the work of a single author. 1 The interest, the 
 reviewer says, in Biblical criticism is increasing in England, 
 though it is by no means fully developed, and we are in this 
 respect much behind the Germans, among whom there is a 
 larger liberty of investigation and a deeper appreciation of 
 the difficulty of the problem than among ourselves. 
 
 Here, it is well understood, when a theological professor sits 
 down to write a book, that he has some cause to advocate. There, 
 it is charitably supposed that he wishes to elucidate the subject. 
 Here a clergyman is considered as competent to deal with a dis- 
 puted topic if he is a good man and keeps his Sunday schools 
 together. There it is believed to be necessary to have examined 
 the controversy with care. 
 
 Neither have we in England sufficiently realised the 
 importance of a division of labour. The secret of German 
 
 1 In this case also it has not been thought necessary to insert the essay 
 much of which is occupied with a discussion of the critical question as it was 
 forty years ago among the Appendices. The quotations will give a sufficient 
 idea of its general bearing and value.
 
 76 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 success is very largely due to the prevalence of specialism. 
 ' Every one of the great names that are mentioned in connec- 
 tion with theological progress can be set down and classified 
 in his own peculiar niche in history.' 
 
 The reviewer then proceeds to pass under very rapid and 
 brief notice some of the greater names in German research 
 into the Old Testament, among them Michaelis, ' the thorough 
 German, the man of hard, solid learning, whose researches 
 into the details of Mosaism are far from obsolete now ; ' 
 Herder, of whom it was said that ' to listen to him was like 
 beholding the red dawn amid the moonlight ; ' Eichhorn, ' the 
 model of a critic, serious, acute, calm ; ' Bohr, ' the German 
 Stanley ; ' Schleiermacher, who ' exalted the individual 
 religious life above the formularies of belief ; ' De Wette, 
 ' actuated by a keen critical sagacity and recommended by 
 a blameless life ; ' Hitzig, ' whose study of the prophets has 
 been invaluable ; ' Bunsen, ' whose skill it was to pursue 
 doctrinal theology as a theologian, ecclesiastical theories as a 
 politician, and Scriptural studies as a critic, and to know how 
 to keep them apart ; ' and Kuenen, ' whose eminence in the 
 critical world is second to few.' 
 
 Last of all, and isolated from the rest, far above them in 
 mastery of Oriental language and ideas, acute, obstinate, ap- 
 parently almost reckless in a conjecture, but indestructible in an 
 argument, of keen sensibility, poetic temperament, profound piety, 
 relentless in self-assertion, quick in apprehension, untiring in 
 patience, stands Ewald of Gottingen, foremost of German critics. 
 
 As regards the alleged orthodox reaction, the writer simply 
 denies that there is any measure of truth in the asser- 
 tion, except as regards ' the later Berlin school, which is a 
 semi-political movement, strongly conservative, supported 
 by the court party, ultra-Lutheran, ecclesiastical, and even 
 sacramental in its tendency.' Such a school has for its object 
 to silence both political liberalism and Scriptural criticism, 
 but it has produced only one name of importance that of 
 Kurz. 
 
 The rise of a school of critical inquiry in France is next 
 touched on, though its issues have not in the reviewer's
 
 A MEMOIR 77 
 
 opinion been as yet of any special value or moment, 
 though it doubtless has an honourable future before it. 
 
 One sees a disposition to conquer all theology in one essay, an 
 impatient eagerness for generalisation, which will sober down in 
 time. Le voild, le chameau, is too much the motto even of 
 theology in France. It appears perhaps more than anywhere else 
 in the spirit of true French eclecticism, which insures complete- 
 ness of theory at the cost of elaborateness of proof. The references 
 are constantly not verified; and, indeed, it is not always that 
 there are any references to verify. But these are matters of 
 detail. The French school, it cannot be doubted, will soon have 
 made itself a name ; and it has now the merit of being the only 
 school of known theologians which does not habitually condescend 
 to invective. One of its leaders declared in England not long 
 ago, that the recriminations of English polemics were to him 
 perfectly surprising, in contrast with the mutual forbearance with 
 which such topics are usually treated by his countrymen. 
 
 The writer then turns to England. He refers some- 
 what slightingly to ' Essays and Eeviews.' ' The authors of 
 the new volume wished simply to make Scriptural inquiries 
 popular ; and if they had but adopted a conciliatory tone, or 
 had dressed heresy in orthodox language, they might have 
 escaped the storm.' Of Dr. Davidson's volumes, however, 
 i.e. of the volumes more especially under notice, he speaks 
 highly, except as regards their literary style and the constant 
 presence of an unnecessarily polemical tone. He goes on to 
 trace, in as much detail as is possible in a magazine article, 
 the results which have, in his judgment, been definitely 
 achieved by criticism, and he adds in tabular form a 
 summary of the history of Old Testament literature. He 
 then proceeds to. give a sketch of ' the religious influences 
 which would be likely to act upon the literature of the 
 Jews.' This portion of the essay is too long to quote in its 
 entirety, nor does it lend itself to illustration by means 
 of excerpts, while the ground which is traversed by it 
 is thoroughly familiar to Biblicain students. It must be 
 sufficient to say of this resume that it is written throughout 
 from the full modern standpoint, and that it is characterised 
 alike by the author's remarkable power of condensation and
 
 78 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 exposition, his firm grasp of leading principles, his complete 
 knowledge of his subject, and his unsurpassed capacity for 
 clear and lucid expression. At its close the writer continues 
 and the passages bring a memorable essay to a vigorous 
 and impressive termination as follows : 
 
 We have seen that the history of the Jews, as far as its bearing 
 upon their literature is concerned, is essentially a history of 
 religious ideas. As such, it will never be successfully treated by 
 anyone who is unable in some degree to appreciate such ideas 
 himself. But, on the other hand, persons of the most fervent 
 piety may read these writings, and arrive at a totally false esti- 
 mate of the story they contain. Any method short of that by 
 which a rigorous scrutiny is exercised upon every statement, must 
 be as imperfect as it would be in treating the history of Eome or 
 England. Professor Stanley has lately published some lectures on 
 ' The History of the Jewish Church,' of which, though with every 
 respect for the writer, critics have nevertheless the right to make 
 some complaint. After calmly reviewing the present position of 
 sacred literature in this country, Professor Stanley seems to have 
 determined upon a distinct line of action. It is that which he him- 
 self is fond of attributing to his prophets the position of a mediator 
 between old and new, a harmoniser and reconciler of different 
 modes of thought. He will present criticism to the world in as 
 favourable a guise as possible ; he will shock no prejudices ; he 
 will even court good-will by a reticence on doubtful points. We 
 do not say that he does not do good every learned and sincere 
 man must. But we do say that it is hardly fair upon those who 
 do not profess to take every historical statement of the Bible for 
 granted, that he should attempt to veil under courtly forms of 
 language the fact that he does not do so himself. It is as though 
 a history of the Jews meant a history of facts, while a ' History of 
 the Jewish Church ' meant a series of photographs from Palestine, 
 taken in a pious spirit. Mr. Kingsley, whom we quote as a 
 preacher, and not as a critic, takes something of the same ground 
 in his recently published ' Sermons on the Pentateuch.' Good 
 plain people, he says, are moved with no critical misgivings ; 
 'when they read the story of the Exodus, their hearts answer, 
 " This is right. This is the God whom we need. This is what 
 ought to have happened. This is true ; for it must be true." Let 
 comfortable people, who know no sorrow, trouble their brains as 
 to whether sixty or 600,000 fighting men came out of Egypt with
 
 A MEMOIR 79 
 
 Moses.' Mr. Kingsley speaks (in the preface to his book) of his 
 happiness in having enjoyed a Cambridge education, which could 
 teach him how to treat Old Testament criticism aright. We 
 wonder whether it was at Cambridge that he learnt that an 
 individual judgment on the moral fitness of a narrative is an 
 adequate intellectual criterion of its truth. We wonder whether 
 it was at the University, or since leaving it, that he first began to 
 think it consistent with charity to speak of critics who differ from 
 him as ' comfortable ' dead, that is, to religious feeling. The 
 first of these errors is a manifest fallacy ; the second is a grievous 
 wrong. Both Mr. Kingsley and Dr. Stanley seem to us to begin 
 at the wrong end of their subject. Both seem to urge upon their 
 readers that the moral of the story is what chiefly deserves atten- 
 tion. It may be so ; but how can we tell what the moral of a 
 story is if we do not know what the facts are? Mr. Kingsley 
 writes that the Jews heard the sound of a trumpet exceeding 
 strong, and a voice ' most Divine and yet most human.' What 
 does it mean ? How can a sound be Divine and human at the 
 same time ? Did the Israelites hear with their outward ears the 
 vibrations caused by a current of air passing through a metallic 
 tube, or did they not ? Some critics seem to think that there are 
 portions of religious history too solemn to be related according to 
 the common forms of narrative. It will soon, in all probability, 
 be affirmed that religion is too complex a subject to be treated by 
 the ordinary rules of grammar. 
 
 Professor Stanley's History has nevertheless received a high 
 encomium in the last few months from one writer whose name 
 ought to carry weight. In eulogising the semi-orthodox professor, 
 and attacking the outspoken bishop, Mr. Matthew Arnold asserts 
 a distinction between edification and instruction the former being 
 for the unenlightened many, the latter for the enlightened few ; 
 and he declares that every book ought to aim at one of these two 
 objects exclusively. Without minutely considering how far each 
 of the two writers above mentioned purposely set themselves to 
 either task, our objections to the theory may be very briefly stated. 
 In the first place, it allows no means by which the enlightenment 
 can penetrate to the masses, and assumes that upon theological 
 questions the few must always think differently from the many. 
 Yet, from an historical point of view, it is remarkable that the work 
 which has been most famous in this century in connection with 
 religious inquiry, the ' Leben Jesu,' was intended mainly for the 
 critics, and not for the multitude. In the second place, the theory 
 involves, as far as we can see, the obligation upon the learned
 
 80 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 edifier of being deliberately and wilfully uncandid. And, finally, 
 we utterly deny that a writer is bound in every case to put upon 
 himself any such alternative as that stated, or, indeed, any one 
 set purpose at all. Let there be free trade in thought, as there is 
 a free market in buying and selling. Such limitations as these 
 are the old-fashioned props of error. If anyone had objected on 
 the appearance of M'Culloch's ' Commercial Dictionary ' that it 
 was a bad book, because it neither enriched the British farmers 
 nor promoted civil liberty among the populations of the European 
 continent, the argument would seem to be precisely as fair a 
 criticism of the dictionary as that which Mr. Arnold brings against 
 the Bishop of Natal. 
 
 It is strange that, in a country of freedom, it should be so 
 difficult to say these things aloud. The virtue that we want is 
 that of courage, and the places where it is chiefly wanted are the 
 places where it ought to flourish most. The time when the mind 
 is most plastic, most active, most splendidly versatile, is the time 
 that a young man spends at college ; and here, if anywhere, it 
 might be expected that the air would be congenial to free study. 
 We believe that it needs a considerable knowledge of the English 
 universities fully to appreciate the intellectual cowardice which 
 characterises the older portion of their members. The exceptions 
 are notorious ; and it is in such a case as this that, in the true 
 meaning of the phrase, the exceptions prove the rule. It would 
 not be so well known who were the advocates of freedom, if the 
 disposition to acquiesce in prejudice were not so widely predomi- 
 nant. A young man at the university begins to think that the 
 Flood was not historical, or that the maledictions of David are not 
 couched in a very forgiving spirit. One set of advisers speak to 
 him in tones of severity; like the Brahmin who crushed the 
 microscope which first revealed to him the living insects in his 
 vegetable food, they urge him to turn from such thoughts at once, 
 and to believe by an effort of the will. Should he be man enough 
 to resist this counsel, there are others who will advise him in 
 friendly tones to fly to action as a remedy for doubt ; a better 
 frame of mind will come, if he will but do his duty and shut his 
 eyes. It is a suggestion which implicitly assumes the monstrous 
 hypothesis, that the best way of arriving at truth is by deliberately 
 abstaining from the search for it. Adolphe Monod was so advised, 
 and Dr. Arnold ; and they followed the advice with more or less 
 effect. Perhaps the inquirers may yield to their incessant tempta- 
 tions, and maintain and subscribe and swear whatever college and 
 university and church set before them. There are many who do
 
 A MEMOIE 81 
 
 so, and who never recover their freedom again. Ecclesiastical 
 authority closes upon them an authority incompatible with 
 independent thought. Soon the questioner begins to care less for 
 the old questions, theory is swallowed up in action : he is happy, 
 he wishes nothing further ; the world is not the better for the 
 intellect God gave him to use. Contentment, the great vice of 
 middle age, settles gradually upon him a vice all the more fatal 
 from its being so often called a virtue. 
 
 Anyone who embraces, on the other hand, the task of candidly 
 working out for himself the religious problems before him, will 
 find it a harder task, even if it be a higher one. It is a task to 
 which our country now emphatically summons men who are not 
 afraid to think. At the commencement of one of his essays, Eenan 
 speaks of a painter who would never attempt except upon his knees 
 a head of the Virgin or her Son. Some such intense reverence for 
 the issues before him a theological critic may well feel ; to pause 
 and adore seems but the fitting preface to the study. But it is not 
 a pause of fear, or a reverence which unmans the intellect. The 
 effect of the inquiry is not an impious one, and free thinking is, in 
 the simple meaning of the term, the highest gift of humanity. The 
 true critic is one who will deem the most perfect humility to 
 lie in the abandonment of prejudice, and the highest faith in 
 the conviction that truth will win. He will have intellectual 
 labour while others are at rest, and perplexities where others 
 cannot feel them. His aims and hopes will not be understood, his 
 candour will seem presumption, and his courage ill will to what is 
 holy. Persecution may not attack him, but social suspicion will. 
 He will work as one whose reward is not before his eyes, and who, 
 in giving up the secure assumptions which bring peace to others, 
 has not sacrificed to God that which cost him nothing. Again 
 and again he will be called on to surrender a fancied discovery, a 
 treasured paradox, a literary revenge, a polemical retort. He will 
 often pause on the brink of a theory, and summon all his self- 
 restraint to aid him in the refusal to tread hastily on a tempting 
 path. He will not Believe, with the Dean of Carlisle, in the ' ever- 
 deteriorating tendency of the unaided human intellect ; ' he will 
 rather trust that good endeavours lead in the end to good results. 
 And as he began his task for the sake of truth, and not for the 
 sake of reputation, he will regard his conclusions as not his own, 
 but given and offered to truth, and will support them no further 
 for the sake of sustaining a thesis than he would maintain them 
 for the sake of preserving a creed. Thus, with whatever lowliness 
 of spirit and loftiness of determination he can, he will brave the 
 
 G
 
 82 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 terrors of public opinion, and the more imposing terrors that lurk 
 in the weakness of the human soul ; and will not doubt that in 
 destroying a religious error, or making known a discovery of critical 
 study, he is doing something, however small it be, to assist and 
 educate his race. 
 
 But the years 1859 to 1867 years which may be divided 
 off as constituting the first period of Edward Bowen's life 
 as a Harrow master produced no important contribution 
 by him, with the exception of one essay, to the literature 
 of his profession. Such a circumstance is no matter for 
 surprise, much less for regret. Contributions might no 
 doubt have been made by him which would have been 
 striking as expositions of theory, unbalanced by experience ; 
 but they could not have had the weight which attaches to his 
 later workmanship. During these years, however, and indeed 
 somewhat early in them, he wrote a remarkable paper on 
 'Punishments,' which was read to a society known as 'The 
 United Ushers,' or more shortly and colloquially as 'The 
 U.U.'s.' The paper made a great impression upon those who 
 first heard or read it, nor did his maturer views upon the 
 subject differ materially from those which he expresses in it ; 
 but it was obviously put together by him without any idea of 
 giving it a circle materially wider than that for which it was 
 prepared ; and though its author sent it to a few friends, he 
 expressed a strong desire that it should not be given to the 
 outside public. Under these circumstances the essay has 
 not been included among the Appendices to this memoir ; 
 at the same time the prohibition need not now be so 
 rigidly interpreted as to exclude all reference to it or any 
 extracts from it. 
 
 The essayist lays down these axioms : 
 
 1. ' Faults ought not to be punished according to their 
 real moral enormity.' 
 
 2. Punishment for ' acute disorders ' must be effective. 
 
 3. Don't have secondary punishments. 
 
 In connection with the first of these he points out that 
 offences arise partly because of the artificial system in opera- 
 tion at a school. He takes in illustration what was at one
 
 A MEMOIE 83 
 
 period, at any rate, of Dr. Vaughan's regime a very common 
 breach of discipline. 
 
 I was much struck once by a master now present saying to 
 me that throwing stones was wrong, and that he wished the boy 
 to know that he, the master, thought it was, and punished it 
 because it was. I can't agree, though I have thought over it as 
 candidly as I can. It is, I rather contend, only wrong because the 
 days are evil : because our small state of society is confessedly 
 and of set purpose a little awry. Hence arbitrary rules, codes 
 enacted to satisfy direct and visible wants, and not following 
 natural laws. In short, school punishments are, even more than 
 those of a nation, really and bond fide separable into mala per se 
 and mala prohibita, which run, of course, into one another, but 
 are different. I hope I shall be forgiven for having dwelt on this, 
 for I probably am not the only teacher who has wondered whether 
 the don, the master who frowns at the stone-thrower, has really 
 right on his side. So far, then, I uphold the view that we must 
 conform to the boys' idea that some things are punished because 
 they are wrong, and others because they must be punished. 
 
 As regards the second axiom the importance of effective 
 punishment for really grave offences it was, in his view, 
 a choice between corporal punishment and imprisonment, 
 'which the French don't like, but are obliged to use.' 
 Degradation in school rank would, he thinks, prove to be only 
 partially sufficient, because in such a penalty there is an 
 element of fictitiousness and conventionality, while what is 
 wanted in punishment of this sort is that ' the boy must 
 care for it and be afraid of it, when he weighs it against the 
 temptation.' 
 
 The question of secondary punishments is dealt with at 
 greater length, and it is here that the essay is perhaps most 
 brilliant and most suggestive. It approaches the matter from 
 the standpoint of a form-master. As has been said, Edward 
 Bowen's motto with regard to these penalties was, ' Eschew 
 them,' since he considered that most secondary punishments 
 which were set were practically unnecessary, and that resort 
 to them was only a sign of weakness. 
 
 In secondary matters, the master ought only to punish with 
 the distinct object of getting what he wants, and because he thinks 
 
 a 2
 
 84 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 this the best or the only way. This shall not happen, ought to be 
 the motto. Acting in this spirit, it does not matter much whether 
 the punishments are great or small. For such faults as petulance, 
 forgetfulness, venial disobedience, the best punishment being 
 nothing ; the second best is to be sought for in a fertile invention. 
 Things which are extraordinary should be dealt with in a wayward 
 fashion. Jones for the fortieth time will not bring a pen to school. 
 I have tried all the arts of persuasion : what shall I do ? Make 
 him come a quarter of an hour before school every day for a week 
 with a pen in his hand ; or write an account of the pens of the 
 ancients from the ' Dictionary of Antiquities ; ' or buy out of his 
 pocket-money half-a-dozen boxes of pens, and give them to me to 
 keep for him ; or threaten, but don't do it, to give all the form an 
 extra stanza of repetition next time he forgets. But the one thing 
 I won't do, is to make a rule that all boys who don't bring pens 
 shall write some lines of Virgil. And I can hardly conceive a 
 case of the kind in which I wouldn't let the boy off if he particu- 
 larly wished. Of course, if he had done it on purpose, it would 
 be different ; then he wouldn't wish. If thy pupil trespass against 
 thee seven times a day, and seven times a day come to thee 
 saying, ' I repent,' forgive him. 
 
 But as regards all punishments, there is one golden rule 
 to be borne in mind : ' Boys ought hardly ever to be 
 punished against their will.' If a master is wise and just, and 
 shows that he does truly care about the offence, in ninety- 
 nine cases out of the hundred the culprit will acquiesce in 
 his sentence as reasonable and proper. 
 
 Nor did these years see even the first of Edward 
 Bowen's Harrow songs. Mr. Farmer, whose name will 
 always be closely connected with this famous series, had, it 
 is true, come to Harrow in 1862 ; and in 1864 Mr. Westcott 
 had written 'Io Triumphe' for him, and had followed it 
 up by other Latin songs. Mr. Bradby also contributed both 
 Latin and English words before 1867 ; but Edward Bowen 
 did not as yet take any part. There are, however, during 
 this period two brilliant compositions of his, written for the 
 ' Harrow Gazette' (a local newspaper), the first being some 
 lines in connection with the Volunteer movement of 1859-60 ; 
 and the second being a set of verses upon the election of an 
 organist for the parish church.
 
 A MEMOIE 85 
 
 The lines upon the Volunteer movement are dated 
 March 1, 1860, and are descriptive, as will be seen, of the 
 struggles of local recruits. 
 
 THE 'EIGHTEENTH MIDDLESEX' 
 
 Sweet sleep attend that patriot, visions fair, 
 Whose aims are lofty, and his shoulders square ! 
 Soft be the couch where rest, in glorious ease, 
 The feet turned out at sixty good degrees ! 
 Not we the slaves whose venal ardour chose 
 The shining shilling and the clumsy clothes ; 
 Not ours the hearts that, armed for just defence, 
 Fight for their country's honour and its pence ; 
 The touch of pay is not the thing to vex 
 The conscience of the Eighteenth Middlesex. 
 A pure ambition prompts our backward wheels, 
 In honour's steps we crush each other's heels, 
 And in the path where Wolfe and Wellesley trod, 
 Duty stands smiling on the awkward squad. 
 
 All have one aim ; but as to skill I pause. 
 I don't believe Jones ever will do ' fours ; ' 
 Brown should remember that it hardly does 
 To do ' left wheel,' when we do ' stand at huzz ! ' 
 You Nokes, of course, were not in fault last night, 
 'Twas Jones, not you, who thought his left his right. 
 But then, I hope I do not give offence, 
 Some people haven't other people's sense ; 
 Still, if mistrust of Smith your spirits drown, 
 And total want of confidence in Brown ; 
 If you do feel these nightly drills a bore, 
 Your true right section is to cut the corps. 
 Leave glory's phantoms for the soldier's part, 
 Find in some art of peace your ' peace of 'art ; ' 
 Eesign at once all military show, 
 Go the whole hog and be the hog you go ! 
 
 Strange sight, when first the rifleman with pain, 
 Faces to right, then faces left again ; 
 When first he learns, by force of lengthened use, 
 The step that marks the soldier and the goose ; 
 And hears, in rapid speech and wondrous tone, 
 The mighty issues of the short word ' wonn.'
 
 86 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 ' The posture should be easy ' oh, no doubt ! 
 ' The head upright the chest thrown fully out/ 
 Poor Binks ! a fearful picture of repose 
 Perhaps you'd like him now to touch his toes ! 
 Pity the sorrows of a poor young swell, 
 Too stiff to stoop, too loyal to rebel ; 
 With soul of iron, vest of cashmere, curst, 
 Binks, in our Tuesday's practice, simply burst ! 
 
 And noble he who, strong in size and weight, 
 Deems nought too arduous for a shape so great ; 
 Let some their section grace with figures slim, 
 In mass and breadth they will not rival him ; 
 Let others easier bend the pliant knee, 
 Not one is larger round the waist than he ! 
 Bold he advances, and presents anew 
 At every turn a fresh ' dissolving ' view ; 
 Marks time like Nasmyth's hammer ; and around 
 The dust is laid o'er twenty feet of ground ; 
 Till calm fatigue, exhaustion all serene, 
 Leaves standing not one stone of his fifteen ! 
 
 And yet, kind ladies, who may deign awhile 
 To crown our dreary marchings with your smile ; 
 Yet deem not that we try no pains to please, 
 That hour has cramped our dinners, pinched our teas. 
 At eight P.M. the first command is given, 
 Enthusiastic people come at seven ; 
 Eush from short meals which duty yet may sweeten, 
 Our feelings Harrow'd, but our dinner Eaten. 
 Then, hark ! the bugle calls. What feelings swell 
 In Biffin at the sound he loves so well ! 
 Turn de de de is ' forward/ Biffin knows, 
 And diddy turn turn, diddy de, is ' close/ 
 Then Stokes, with rapid steps and quiet smiles, 
 Treads on the heels of unsuspecting Stiles ; 
 And Stiles, dissembling vengeance, calmly pokes 
 His errant elbow in the ribs of Stokes. 
 That night they dream, if patriotic zeal , 
 
 Narrowed the ' extension motion ' of their meal, 
 That myriad sergeants, frowning, all night stand, 
 And thunder forth the strong, but strange, command, 
 ' Eight section, left form company ; meanwhile, 
 Left, backwards double on the leading file ! '
 
 A MEMOIE 87 
 
 Oh muse, oh nymph, oh ministress of war, 
 Whosever line embraces Eifle Corps ! 
 Be kind to one who, though not used to sing, 
 Has every wish to do the proper thing. 
 Oh, when the varying mandate, random hurled, 
 Confounds the finest senses in the world ; 
 When Judgment owns her mastery less and less, 
 And mind becomes a briery wilderness : 
 Then let thy warning voice speed down the line, 
 Stretch thy right hand, and tell me, which is mine I 
 
 The verses upon the election of an organist are three 
 years later. It will be noticed that the name of Mr. Farmer 
 who had not as yet received any real recognition from the 
 School authorities appears in them. How the election went 
 in the end is immaterial, nor need we attempt to determine 
 what influence Edward Bowen's exceptional advocacy had 
 upon the chances of his candidate ; but it ought to be stated 
 that Mr. Gos, for whom he made his effort, was a hair- 
 dresser in the town. 
 
 ELECTION OF OEGANIST 
 
 Vote for Gos ! Vote for Gos ! 
 
 Why do the gentry look so cross ? 
 
 Truefitt's rival and Handel's heir, 
 
 He will play your organ and cut your hair ; 
 
 Psalmody cannot afford the loss 
 
 The town would suffer in losing Gos ! 
 
 Vote for Gos ! Vote for Gos ! 
 
 Twenty to one on the winning 'oss ! 
 
 All the fine talk of the friends of the Vicar is 
 
 Excellent food for the lovers of liquorice, 
 
 Flowers are best in their native moss ! 
 
 Hang the intruder and vote for Gos ! 
 
 Vote for Gos ! Vote for Gos ! 
 
 Farmer and Flowers to Jericho toss ! 
 
 Not in vain is the story told 
 
 How for the hair-cutter Absalom polled : 
 
 This way, gentlemen ! step across 1 
 
 This is the way to vote for Gos !
 
 88 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 It was not, however, in English verses only that Edward 
 Bowen's wit and gaiety found brilliant expression. In 1867 
 he and the Eev. E. M. Young l jointly composed an amusing 
 ' Vergilian ' eclogue somewhat after the model of that in 
 which Menalcas and Damoetas compete for the heifer upon 
 the candidature of the Eev. F. W. Farrar and the Eev. E. H. 
 Bradby both of them assistant masters at Harrow for 
 the vacant headmastership of Haileybury. The honour of 
 succeeding so distinguished a chief as the retiring head- 
 master the Eev. Arthur Butler had drawn a large field of 
 applicants, but Mr. Farrar and Mr. Bradby stood somewhat 
 prominently out from among the others, and it was from the 
 first probable that the choice of the governing body would 
 fall, as it did, upon one or other of them. 2 Their rivalry 
 excited considerable warmth of feeling among their colleagues 
 and friends, and the heat of partisanship was increased by 
 the even balance on the one hand of their claims, and on 
 the other by the striking divergence of their temperaments. 
 It was under these circumstances that the Eclogue was 
 written ; and its delightful humour did not a little to soften 
 the asperities of the contest. 
 
 THYESIS. DAMCETAS 
 
 Forte sub arguta betulae convenerat umbra 
 Thyrsida Damoetas ; nostros quis nescit amicos ? 
 Proxima qui summo curant praesepia clivo, 
 Ambo conjugiis praestantes, prolibus ambo ; 
 5 Duxerat hie secum florem gregis, ille gemellos, 
 
 Quorum nescit herus similem dignoscere lanam. 
 Hos ego, dum lateo molli resupinus in herba, 
 Versibus audivi paribus certare vicissim, 
 Ferret uter virgam betulae de fronde recisam 
 10 Daphnidis ; at sceptro discesserat ipse relicto. 
 
 Alternis igitur se venditat unus et alter. 
 
 T. Flos rubet in pratis ; pendens rubet arbore bacca ; 
 Nobis suave rubent promissi ad pectora crines. ' 
 
 1 At the time an assistant master at Harrow : afterwards headmaster of 
 Sherborne ; and, at the time of his death, Rector of Rothbury and Honorary 
 Canon of Newcastle. 
 
 * Mr. Bradby was elected. Mr. Farrar was subsequently appointed to the 
 headmastership of Marlborough in succession to Dr. Bradley.
 
 A MEMOIR 89 
 
 D. Barbaras est, barbam qui sic fovet ; id bene discit, 
 15 ' Linguarum ' modice qui tinxit ' Origine ' mentem. 
 
 T. Ut pereant vocum discrimina ! novimus ipsi 
 
 Angliaca lepide disponere verba loquela. 
 D. An tibi sic currant, veluti vox nostra loquentis, 
 Chryselephantine berylus distincta smaragdo ? 
 20 T. At cantus pueris, at avenge aptavimus hymnos, 
 
 Meque colonus amat, mea sunt huic omnia cures. 
 D. Anglia me Scotique simul, puerique senesque, 
 Et Batavi, et ponto discreta Columbia laudat. 
 T. Jucundumque bonumque vocat me Roundelos ; ecquis 
 25 Boundelon audivit nisi vera et sana loquentem ? 
 
 D. Boppus amat nostros, nee despicit ipse libellos 
 
 Grimmius ; ut non sit Germanis notior alter. 
 T. Pan ovium custos ; gregis est custodia nobis 
 
 Qui flores curant, conchylia, gramina, muscas. 
 30 D. Presses et ipse fui ; quid tu mihi talia ? novi 
 
 Omnia, post nomen cui litera trina legatur. 
 T. Major ego, idcirco sapientior ; eque caballi 
 Tergore despicio follem qui calce fatigant. 
 D. Fortunate senex I ergo tua crura manebunt ; 
 35 Si, dum tu vectaris equis, ego vulnera quaero. 
 
 T. Triste Gradus pueris ; fesso schola longa magistro ; 
 
 Virga cuti ; cutibus mihi non intendere virgas. 
 D. Dulce rudis pugili ; pueris absistere musa ; 
 
 Musarum capiti mihi detraxisse coronam. 
 40 T. Quod potui, stupido sexcentos ordine versus 
 
 Imposui pensum Mopso ; eras Georgieon addam. 
 D. quoties et quae nequam peccavit Amyntas ! 
 
 Cum faciam ferula, ni displicet, ipse venito. 
 T. Die quibus in tectis interprete voce cuculus 
 45 Soles occiduos et euntes computet horas ? 
 
 D. Die quibus in tectis, et mox eris (Edipus alter , 
 Parvulus incultae ludat cui nomen ericae ? 
 
 Hie ego, me prodens, ' Desistite cantibus ambo ; 
 Et betula tu dignus, et hie ; et quisquis honores 
 50 Vel ferat a Camo pastor, vel ab Iside, tales. 
 
 Vesper adest : sonat aes; i, flos gregis, ite, gemelli.' 
 
 5 MSS. omnes ' folium.' Veram lectionem restitui. ' Gemelli ' qui 
 fuerint, varie disseruerunt interpretes. Quatuor fuisse affirmat Schol. 
 
 19 Notaverint tirones, syllabarum in hoc versu quantitatem, et vocabulorum 
 
 genera, poetam pras magnitudine sententiee parum curare. 
 
 20 De colono vix liquet. Vide autem ne canendi magistrum quempiam 
 
 scriptor per paronomasiam spectaverit.
 
 90 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 Of the correspondence of this decade of years a corre- 
 spondence which doubtless was at the time slight and brief 
 enough scarcely any relics remain. There are, however, a 
 few letters to his old undergraduate friend, W. Saumarez 
 Smith now (1902) Archbishop of Sydney and of these 
 three may perhaps be given as containing clear witness to 
 the manner of man that the writer was. None of them are 
 dated, but the first is stated by its author to be written at 
 ' the age of twenty-four,' and therefore belongs approximately 
 to 1860 ; while the Archbishop has been able to attach dates 
 to the others. 
 
 London Road, Harrow. 
 
 My dear Willie, I am going through the great heap of letters 
 which accumulated at the end of last term, when I had hardly 
 time to read them intelligently. Yours is among them. I am 
 sitting over the fire the first night of the half, while the cabs roll 
 by with boys coming back late and no work to do as yet. What 
 if I try to answer your letter ? Probably it will be an infliction to 
 you if I do. I know you rather dislike positive arguing ; I, on 
 the other hand, rather like it, believing in dialectics as a great 
 help to the search for truth. Not that I require you to answer 
 my combativeness which, if it seem ungracious, all I can say is, 
 firstly it isn't really so, and secondly magis arnica veritas I 
 
 The scarlet cloth that rouses all that is tauriform in my nature 
 is the idea of subordinating the intellectual part of one's nature to 
 anything whatever. Why in the attempt to arrive at truth, which 
 should be with everyone a lifelong labour, discard partially or 
 wholly, or deliberately blunt, the only weapon by which truth is 
 secured ? Why ? Because error is probable ? Immo certain ; 
 but if I did not consider intellect and ignorance to be antagonistic 
 rather than the opposite, I should think very differently of our 
 work in the world. Because the nature of man is not large 
 enough to unite large mental and spiritual development ? Rather 
 I trust the text which urges 
 
 ' That mind and soul, according well, 
 May make one music as before, 
 But vaster.' 
 
 What business have we to question that every faculty was meant 
 to be used to the full ? It is a kind of certainty with me that 
 goes very near the roots of faith. ' Perfect love casteth out fear.'
 
 A MEMOIE 91 
 
 I am deliberately determined to make the desire of high know- 
 ledge no child's play, to trust the issues of honesty, to refuse to 
 examine anything under heaven by the light of an eclipse of 
 reason. Which of the two is more pleasing to the Father of 
 Spirits, he who persuades himself to take things for granted 
 which his own narrow views make him consider likely to be ' the 
 right things to believe,' or he who deliberately strips himself, in 
 entering upon high questions, of every prejudice, and blindness, 
 and thought for his intellectual future, and renders to mind the 
 things that are mind's ? Which of the two ' enters the kingdom 
 of God as a little child ' ? 
 
 But there is the question whether intellect is the only imple- 
 ment in our hands for such a purpose. My own reply is un- 
 hesitatingly, 'Yes.' What of faith? I cannot bring myself to 
 think that any single fact, or collection of facts, of whatever 
 importance they be, is seen best, and in its truest colours, by the 
 simple process of shutting the eyes. I do not believe that faith has 
 any relation whatever to a belief in facts. I should rather cling to it 
 as something giving one very much more than facts trust in the 
 final victory of goodness and truth, love to the Spirit around and 
 in one, confidence in the existence of a higher nature than this 
 nature and a higher life surrounding this life. But to confound faith 
 and opinion seems to me the heresy of heresies. No fact can be 
 more than matter of opinion, nor any theory (i.e. doctrine). Every 
 fact and doctrine is temporal, fleeting, imperfect. Faith is that by 
 which we apprehend the real. He who believes a thing because 
 others tell it him may believe what is true or he may not the 
 chances are enormously in favour of its being untrue but in no 
 case is it any credit to him simply to sacrifice his private judgment. 
 It is not believing in God, it is believing in man ; and this extends 
 to everything of the nature of prejudice, prajudicium, every 
 'great principle which must at all hazards be defended," every 
 ' doctrine which lies at the root of theology.' Apage, Sathana I 
 But he who believes a thing, or fancies he does, because he thinks 
 it right to believe it, is simply in the position of one who forfeits 
 his claim to manhood, who abdicates the status of a rational being. 
 Eeason, and reas'on alone, I consider the guide to inductive know- 
 ledge. 
 
 I shudder to think how often I have heard the questions, ' But 
 where will you stop?' 'Where will this lead to?' Wherever 
 God will aiXivov atXtvov CITTC. I pray Him that I may no more 
 shrink from intellectual duty through fear of the consequences 
 than from moral. The consequences of blind reception of what is
 
 92 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 stated or written is at the present moment that the predominant 
 religion of the world is Buddhism ; and a blind reception is that 
 which receives from any other ground except intelligent opinion 
 founded on examination. True that most of the world must 
 receive blindly ; but it is matter for regret that it should be so, 
 and increases the responsibility of those who are not obliged by 
 want of education to do it. 
 
 ' Can you trust yourself ? ' No ; but my opinions must never- 
 theless be my own and not another man's. I know I shall never 
 arrive at perfect truth ; which of itself is a satisfactory proof to me 
 that no opinion honestly arrived at is matter for blame to anyone, 
 or the contrary. Nor do I mean that I am to take nothing as 
 probable from the report of another. I only mean that I must 
 do so with open eyes and solely under the guidance of Eeason. 
 
 Lastly, it may be said, ' You are too young to profess and 
 propound crude views.' I reply that I do not propound them 
 to the world. What I believe from day to day (for one must 
 always be changing some small opinion or other), I express to 
 those to whom I talk and write. I do not profess to be certain of 
 any view, almost. But that is no reason for keeping my thoughts 
 to myself. It wouldn't do to wait till one was certain of all 
 things. Busticus expectat dum defluat amnis. Error has a 
 tendency to stereotype itself, one sees. And if young men were 
 to be debarred from speaking because of crudity of opinion, views 
 would be solid, it is true, beliefs would gain in firmness and 
 symmetry, and in an appearance of appropriateness and adapta- 
 tion to the world, but not nearly so much as they would lose in 
 vigour and in the additional charm of truth that arises from dis- 
 turbance and a stirring up of mind. 
 
 For example, I believe that if it were suddenly discovered that 
 the Bible was not entirely trustworthy, the amount of religious 
 knowledge, virtue, spiritualness, would by this time five years 
 have vastly increased. You will guess from my saying so that 
 I am on the point of mentioning one strong view that I feel at the 
 moment convinced of. I have taken lately to thinking that we have 
 lost much from over- veneration of the Bible ; that it can be proved 
 beyond question that in that book, or collection of books, there are 
 mistakes, contradictions, human imperfections ; that the book is 
 simply human (always remembering how God's Spirit works with 
 man) ; that it differs from other human productions only in degree, 
 not in kind ; that it is a glorious collection of histories, thoughts, 
 truths ; that it is the most precious possession of the human race ; 
 that the good it has done is incalculable, but that it is human
 
 A MEMOIR 93 
 
 after all an ' earthen vessel ' not infallible, and not to be 
 worshipped as Divine ; that therefore it is as wrong to believe in 
 it implicitly in the shell, the form inclosing the truth as in the 
 Church, the history and position of which so closely resemble it. 
 The great reform which the time requires, and which I think we 
 shall live to see, is the surrender of the belief in the infallibility of 
 any human institution, of anything that the eye can see, or the 
 hand handle. 
 
 Thus says the age of twenty-four. But liberavi animam. 
 I wonder whether you will ever get as far as this. I am too tired 
 to tell you of my French tour very jolly but very short. 
 
 P.S. Make a test of the subject of the last [part] l of this letter. 
 Is it not simply a matter of argument ? Can you venture to say 
 that faith enters into it at all, on either side ? And yet did you 
 not, on reading it, conceive me as morally the worse in some slight 
 degree for thinking so ? At least I feel I should, I am afraid, in 
 your position ; at all events I know many of those who think as 
 you, who would. 
 
 Harrow, N.W. : [October 1861.] 
 
 My dear Willie, I hardly know what to say to your news. 2 
 I confess that my first feeling was one of sorrow. I should myself 
 so very much shrink from the idea of leaving England for good, or 
 nearly so, that I can't quite like it for you, even though it is a 
 grand life that you will be leading. I think perhaps you are right 
 to take it. You will do all the administrative part of the work 
 extremely well, and for the missionary part I don't expect you to 
 fail in energy or perseverance. When once the Christian spirit of 
 self-sacrifice gets united to the vigour of Anglo-Saxon enterprise, it 
 is hard to see what can withstand it. I should think there could 
 not be a pleasanter man, too, than Gell, to be with and under. Yes, 
 I think you will enjoy it, and I think you will live a life worth 
 living ; and I envy you the consciousness that you must constantly 
 have of direct and practical success. But to leave the social life 
 of England, to leave its intellectual and religious life at what seems 
 to be such a critical time as this, and to undergo that terrible and 
 absolute separation from friends I really seem almost to shrink 
 from it. However, God will surely bless you in it ; and I remember 
 that when it was asked of other Apostles sent out without purse 
 or scrip, ' Lacked ye anything ? ' they replied, ' Nothing.' 
 
 1 The word in the original is illegible. 
 
 2 His correspondent had accepted a domestic chaplancy to Bishop Gell at 
 Madras.
 
 94 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 I hope you will manage to come down here before you go. 
 What a number of threads you must have to take up of all kinds. 
 We really ought to have one long talk about past, present, and 
 future, before you vanish. I can hardly believe that there will 
 be positively not one of our year left at Trinity now everyone at 
 work somewhere. How you will prize all Trinity recollections in 
 a couple of years' time, when you have nothing to deal with but 
 stupid natives and unsympathising civilians. Well, if ever there 
 is a judgment of natives, it will be something for England to be able 
 to say that she did not grudge such men as you and your bishop 
 for such work as his and yours. . . . 
 
 Heatherwood, Freshwater, Isle of Wight : [September 1863.] 
 My dear Willie, I confess that during the quarter I was 
 frequently impressed with a conviction that I ought to write to you ; 
 but somehow the school-time is so fully taken up that opportune 
 half-hours never seem to come off for any desirable purposes. 
 However, now it is holiday-time I should have no excuse if I were 
 to be still remiss. Many thanks for your letter, and your general 
 views of the work and its prospects. I find it hard to take much 
 interest in the details of missionary successes and failures partly, 
 because they are never given with any dramatic effect in print or 
 on paper (I suppose in consequence of the impossibility to English- 
 men of getting as close up to the mind of an Asiatic as to one of 
 ourselves), and partly because they are monotonous ; one doesn't 
 appreciate the full meaning contained in the fact of the Eev. John 
 Brown having baptised ten converts and admitted a dozen com- 
 municants, and then had prayers, and gone somewhere else. But 
 the general results, the nature of the moral and social progress of 
 Christianity, the extent to which it is possible for reformers to feel 
 their way among an alien race, I do care very much for. Now I 
 know men of candour and ability who declare that after much study 
 of it they believe missionary work to be an almost total failure. 
 On the other hand, you say that the results are ' very satisfactory ; ' 
 and I take it as your deliberate opinion. Will you take as a 
 criterion these two rough tests, which from ignorance I cannot put 
 myself ? First, does Christianity introduce a more elevated moral 
 code among the natives than they possessed before, so that a well- 
 meaning and candid unbeliever is obliged to respect a convert, 
 even if he thinks him misled, on account of the lofty principles 
 which guide him ? Secondly, is it the case that the belief which 
 you introduce accompanies social advance? Do you really 
 teach converts to be more active and energetic members of society ?
 
 A MEMOIR 95 
 
 Is the gospel of steam-power and free-trade felt to be consonant 
 with, and worthy of, the gospel of forgiveness and redemption ? 
 I can't but think that some such tests as these any creed ought to 
 be able to bear, which is destined to make much way among a 
 people. 
 
 Last term was a very pleasant one to me. It was the last 
 quarter that a set of boys were there whom I had got to know very 
 well, and who are now leaving for Cambridge, &c. Then the 
 games are of course wonderfully interesting from every point of 
 view, from the highly moral to the purely physical. I am now 
 down at our little house at Freshwater, playing cricket matches as 
 often as I can get them, and getting up before breakfast every 
 morning to work. I am busy at a long quarterly article (for the 
 ' National Review ') on ' The Criticism of the Old Testament ' ! l I 
 wrote one on Colenso 2 in last January's number, and they asked 
 me to do another in continuation of the subject, so I am grinding 
 hard at it. I was afraid you wouldn't approve of Colenso. I 
 thought it right to write in general terms of praise of him. He 
 notices the article in his preface to the second volume. No doubt 
 I think, as most critics do, that he is mistaken in the inference he 
 draws as to the totally unhistorical character of the Exodus. I 
 think the grounds for denying it are not sufficient. But I fully 
 believe that it is by such criticism as his, free, uncompromising, 
 acute, that the real truth of all history must be made out He- 
 brew history as well as Roman ; and if he goes too far in one 
 particular direction, that of incredulity, other men will very soon 
 come back to the right critical track ; and at any rate it is an 
 emphatic protest against the common view, which seems to me 
 pernicious, that all the details of the story must be historical 
 because they are placed in a book which our Lord, in common 
 with all other pious Jews, treated with well-deserved reverence. 
 Of course I shouldn't praise Colenso if I thought that his arguments 
 were bad and weak ; but I think that they are for the most part 
 sound as far as they go, viz. discrediting the details of the story ; 
 and his second and third volumes have proved him to be what I 
 never expected fo find him, a really scholarlike and careful critic. 
 He intends to go to Genesis next, in which I presume he will 
 adopt the old line again, and then on to Samuel and Kings. I must 
 say I have found a wonderful interest in the Old Testament study, 
 which I have taken up in the last two or three years, and it is 
 1 Vide pp. 66, 75 ff. Vide pp. 66 ft
 
 96 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 impossible to describe how much the interest is increased by not 
 feeling fettered down to an obligation of accepting every word that 
 one finds as necessarily true. In the one case it seems really 
 possible to understand something of the history, as a history of 
 living men ; in the other, one's efforts would seem to lie prostrate 
 before A mountain of ill-assorted and even contradictory records. 
 However, I know you don't go so far as I do in this, so I won't 
 give you pain by more ; but I believe that our descendants a hun- 
 dred years hence will hardly be able to credit the fact that educated 
 men in this century really regarded the story of Balaam's ass as 
 otherwise than a legend, or the Book of Chronicles as accurate in 
 its statement of facts. 
 
 I wonder when you are to be back. I suppose you will come 
 out strong in the ' deputation ' line. Don't go and get knocked up 
 in the liver and all that. Do they allow you in the episcopal 
 residence a copious supply of Bass ?
 
 A MEMOIE 97 
 
 III 
 
 THE years 1867-1882 may be regarded as marking the 
 commencement and end of the second period of Edward 
 Bowen's career at Harrow. By the first of these dates his 
 apprenticeship has been fully served. He has learnt his 
 work, and has made his name ; and, though he has still his 
 critics and even his opponents, he is generally recognised by 
 the members of his profession as a master whose opinion 
 must always carry great weight to the scale into which it is 
 thrown, and whose brilliancy, originality, and force are beyond 
 question. The second date, 1882, was the year when he 
 accepted the mastership of ' The Grove ' the large house 
 which ' stands on the high hill head,' and with which his 
 memory will now always be most closely associated ; for, 
 apart from his twenty years of government, the School owes 
 the possession of it to his generosity. This middle period 
 was in some respects the fullest in his life. During it the 
 ' Modern Side ' was founded and developed. It produced 
 more than one valuable educational paper, and most of the 
 School songs. They were years as were all the remaining 
 years of his life of extreme professional pressure. Certainly 
 by 1871 he had ceased to contribute either to the ' Saturday ' 
 or to the ' National Eeview.' l He had, too, ceased to be 
 a volunteer. He was hardly ever away from the School. 
 He had almost given up entertaining, and he very rarely 
 dined out. He was too busy, and he remained too busy to 
 the end. Now and then he would have a Cambridge friend 
 to stay with him over the Sunday, and would ask one or 
 
 1 In January 1871 he sent an article to the ' Saturday Review ' on The 
 Lessons of the Eclipse ' (vide p. 127) ; but he wrote it during the holidays, and 
 as a substitute for a man unable at the last moment to fulfil his engagement to 
 the paper. 
 
 H
 
 98 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 two masters to meet him. Once a fortnight he would 
 play whist at a neighbour's house after prayers a col- 
 league still has a vivid recollection of the lawless charac- 
 teristics of his play, and of the kind of arguments with 
 which the worst breaches of conventionality would be 
 defended with all the appearance of logical soundness. 
 Now and then he would play football away from Harrow. 
 Occasionally during the course of June and July he would 
 steal two or three hours to visit ' Lord's.' But as a whole 
 his life was full to overflowing with school duties, and 
 during term-time nothing was allowed to compete with 
 them. He had throughout this period a large measure of 
 reward, although the completeness of it came somewhat 
 later. In these years his influence both upon colleagues 
 and pupils grew with rapidity. At the same time, it never 
 became during this period indisputably paramount. When 
 the period closes we find him possessing an ascendancy 
 which, though remarkable, was not as yet quite sufficient 
 to overcome the suspicion against him, in the minds of 
 some, as radical in his general sentiments and unorthodox 
 in his religious opinions. It was not until a few years more 
 had elapsed that his feet were, as regards prestige and 
 supremacy, on absolutely the last rung of the ladder. The 
 period, too, though it is mainly concerned with his profes- 
 sional life, has upon it, both at its beginning and end, a 
 strong gleam of outside interest. At the commencement of 
 it come the memorable holidays of the summer of 1870, 
 when he follows in the track of the victorious Germans 
 along the line of MacMahon's retreat from Weissenburg, 
 and visits Worth two weeks after the battle there; the 
 winter holidays of the same year, when he is one of the 
 scientific party sent to Sicily to take observations in 
 connection with the eclipst, of the sun ; the Easter holidays 
 of 1871, when he goes to Paris during the reign of the Com- 
 mune. Towards the end of the period he has his political 
 experiences, and contests with some approach to success a 
 seat against Mr. Arthur Balfour. The story of these four- 
 teen years both as regards term-time and holidays had 
 best be told, in the main, chronologically.
 
 A MEMOIK 99 
 
 In 1867, Mr. Farrar now (1902) Dean of Canterbury 
 edited a volume of essays under the title, ' Essays on a Liberal 
 Education.' To this he asked Edward Bowen to contribute, 
 and the result was an important paper from his pen on the 
 subject, ' Teaching by means of Grammar ' a paper which 
 is well worth very close and careful study by anyone who 
 desires to become acquainted with Edward Bowen's views 
 as a teacher, and to understand in some measure the nature 
 and characteristics of his genius. 1 The essay is throughout 
 a severe, drastic, uncompromising criticism of the method 
 of teaching which he found in vogue ; from which his 
 experience and good sense had led him almost wholly to 
 dissociate himself, and towards which he never in after 
 years moved a single step nearer. ' Teaching by means of 
 Grammar ' was to him in the form in which it existed 
 and with the aims on which its advocates laid stress 
 nothing else than a complete mistake. Such a method was 
 in his eyes an erroneous path to an almost worthless goal. 
 It was an erroneous path, for it only wearied the feet of the 
 youthful learner beyond bearing. Boys, he said in effect, 
 were prepared to submit to a good deal of drudgery. They 
 were not, as a rule, wholly idle, or chiefly sullen ; but the 
 learning of Latin and Greek through grammars, written in 
 a dead language and consisting of ' a set of clumsy rules, of 
 which a boy will never use the half, and never understand 
 the quarter,' simply meant that a lad's time, docility, temper, 
 desire to improve, confidence in his teachers, were all sacri- 
 ficed. It was of course the case that a certain amount of 
 grammar was necessary. Classics could not be tackled 
 without some knowledge of the declensions ; but such an 
 admission was no justification for the preposterous system 
 which forced upon a boy what was really so much work at 
 a treadmill. Grammar as it was taught was simply too 
 hard. It tortured a lad without even giving him the satis- 
 faction of feeling at the termination of his painful drudgery 
 that he had gained some mite of real knowledge. So, too, 
 the goal to which teaching by grammar was meant to lead 
 was not worth the reaching. In what did such teaching end ? 
 
 1 The essay is printed among the Appendices. 
 
 H 2
 
 100 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Merely in pedantic scholarship. Edward Bowen proceeded 
 to draw out with some contempt the ideas usually conveyed 
 by the popular expression, ' a beautiful scholar.' Such an 
 individual, he observes, does as a rule but little for his 
 generation. ' We know well enough what becomes of the 
 man who gives himself up to particles.' He becomes 
 intolerant of others upon whom he looks down, for no better 
 or worthier reason than that they do not possess his own 
 pedantic knowledge. He is incapable of taking any useful 
 or sympathetic part in social and political movements. He 
 does but little even to elucidate the thoughts of those writers 
 with whose grammatical characteristics he is so well ac- 
 quainted. His chief capacity is 'to set a common-room 
 right upon some mystic conceit of ^schylus.' Nor does 
 the writer of the essay admit for one moment the doctrine 
 to which expression is sometimes given especially in con- 
 nection with the prohibition of translations that the trials 
 through which, on the existing system, a pupil goes are a sort 
 of moral education on account of the struggles which they 
 involve. Such a thesis is, in his opinion, beyond the reach 
 of argument. The man who makes it his own is out of 
 court. It is so obviously the duty of the teacher to do all 
 that he can to remove difficulties, and to add interest to 
 learning, that any proposition involving the negative is self- 
 convicted. 
 
 Edward Bowen expresses in some vigorous sentences his 
 own idea of the way in which the ordinary boy should be 
 taught classics. ' Plunge him at once i.e. after he has 
 learnt a few rudiments of grammar into the delectus.' 
 Encourage him to read. Help him to read. Take off his 
 hands all that wearisome work with a lexicon which involves 
 such a portentous waste of time, and occupies to no real 
 profit energies which might be turned to good account. 
 Let him use translations. If he does not know the meaning 
 of a word, tell it him. Never let him be seriously checked 
 by a difficulty. If it be an insuperable one to him, at once 
 
 help him over it. 
 
 ) 
 If only it could be regarded as an established truth that the 
 
 office of a teacher is, more than anything else, to educate his
 
 A MEMOIR 101 
 
 pupils, to cause their minds to grow and work, rather than simply 
 to induce them to receive ; to look to labour rather than to weigh 
 specific results ; to make sure at the end of a school-half that 
 each one of those entrusted to him has had something to interest 
 him, quicken him, cause him to believe in knowledge, rather than 
 simply to repeat certain pages of a book without a mistake then 
 we might begin to fancy the golden time was near at hand, when 
 boys will come up to their lessons, as they surely ought, with as 
 little hesitation and repugnance as that with which a man sits 
 down to his work. 
 
 The testimony of more than one of Edward Bowen's 
 pupils, which will be quoted later on, will show how nearly 
 he reached his ideal with those who passed into his form, 
 and came ' under the wand of the enchanter.' 
 
 The spring of the year 1869 brought Edward Bowen 
 the offer of the ' Mastership ' of the new ' Modern Side,' which 
 was to commence after trie summer holidays. He was 
 himself a very strong advocate of this change in the School 
 routine, which, indeed, met with very general acceptance by 
 his colleagues. His own great classical attainments, and 
 the fact that so eminent a classical scholar as Dr. Butler 
 approved the plan, rendered impossible any suspicions, 
 which might otherwise have arisen and asserted themselves, 
 that classics were to be sacrificed unnecessarily ; and the 
 good ship ' Modern Side ' was built and launched without 
 any serious opposition, though not without doubt and 
 anxiety. There is extant a letter from Edward Bowen to 
 his mother in which he alludes to the new venture and to 
 his own prospects in connection with it. 
 
 The case is this : after long hesitation we are to have a Modern 
 School, i.e. a school on rational principles, teaching no Greek, but 
 lots of history, modern languages, science, &c., and also (at all 
 events at present) Latin. Of course it is an experiment, but one 
 that is sure to answer to a certain extent, and one that we are 
 bound to try. I am to be at the head of it. I really never 
 thought of whether it will imply gain or loss of greatness to me ; 
 but I don't see how it should be loss at all events. I shall have
 
 102 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 probably a great part of the responsibility of ordering the work. 
 It will simply be a division of the school a bifurcation though 
 at first I expect the clever boys won't come to it much ; in process 
 of time they will. One fact is that I shall have to teach French 
 and German. Now, French I could manage more or less, but as 
 to German I don't know any worth mentioning and must get it 
 up. So I propose to go these holidays to Dresden and work at 
 it. ... The new institution won't begin till after midsummer, and 
 absolutely no arrangements are made for it as yet except the 
 general idea. . . . 
 
 There was as regards this new division one preliminary 
 question of the highest possible importance. Was the 
 Modern Side to be for boys admittedly inferior in capacity, 
 or was it to claim perfect equality with the old Classical Side ? 
 That the former interpretation of its existence and meaning 
 would have been most detrimental to it indeed, fatal to any 
 real success is obvious. Admit the Modern Side to be a 
 refuge for the destitute, and a refuge for the destitute it would 
 most assuredly become and remain. If, however, the depart- 
 ment was not to suffer in prestige, then adequate steps must be 
 taken to prevent an inrush of idlers and dullards. It must 
 not be open to masters of private schools to suppose that if 
 they could not pass a boy into the Classical Side of the School, 
 they might yet succeed in doing so into the Modern. It is 
 characteristic of Edward Bowen that he was willing to take 
 charge of this new branch of the school-work upon any 
 terms. At the same time he was clear that the conditions 
 attaching to admission to the Modern Side must be definitely 
 settled, and that whatever was settled must be adhered to. 
 It would not do to have it undetermined whether or not 
 inferiority was to be the badge of the boy who did not do 
 Greek. The decision was never in doubt. The Modern 
 Side was in the judgment of the Headmaster to be on the 
 same level as the rest of the School ; and in order to give 
 the fullest possible effect to this principle it was arranged 
 that there was to be no class on the Modern Side lower than 
 the ' Shell,' nothing corresponding even to the highest of the 
 three ' Fourth Forms ' on the Classical Side forms which 
 then contained some eighty boys. It was clearly foreseen,
 
 A MEMOIE 103 
 
 too, that such an arrangement would have to remain in force 
 for a considerable number of years, and it was not till 1890 
 that a ' Fourth Form ' was added. 
 
 It is not necessary to trace in detail the fortunes of 
 the Modern Side. At the close of twelve years, in 1881, 
 Edward Bowen wrote a long and very striking Memorandum 
 in connection with it, which will be read by all educationists 
 with appreciative interest. It will be seen from the intro- 
 ductory letter that it was drawn up in response to a request 
 from Dr. Butler; and it is here given in full, with the 
 exception that initials are substituted for names. 
 
 Harrow : Sept. 10, 1881. 
 
 My dear Dr. Butler, I send you the memorandum which you 
 asked me to draw up with regard to the Modern Side at Harrow ; 
 and I am sorry that I have not been able to complete it in a 
 shorter compass. It is at your service for any use to which you 
 may think fit to put it. 
 
 I am, yours very sincerely, 
 
 E. E. BOWEN. 
 
 MEMOEANDUM ON THE MODEEN SIDE, 1869-1881 
 
 General Principles of the Modern Side, When in the spring 
 of 1869 the Headmaster proposed to me to undertake the chief 
 management of a Modern Department, I suggested that it was 
 necessary to discriminate between two alternative conceptions : 
 on the one hand, that of a branch of the School which should aim 
 at the best attainable teaching, and rank as far as possible on an 
 equality with the Classical School ; on the other, that of a division 
 which should be professedly inferior, should welcome the duller 
 boys, and bring the teaching to as low a level as was necessary 
 for their training. I was willing to undertake the task on either 
 hypothesis : Dr. Butler chose the former. I then proposed the 
 following general principles for its establishment : 
 
 1. The department is to be taught separately as regards all 
 school-work. 
 
 2. The teaching is intended to be of a high class. 
 
 3. In every way, except in form-work, the boys are to retain 
 their association with those on the Classical Side. 
 
 4. The chief subjects are to be mathematics, modern languages, 
 history, Latin, science, English.
 
 104 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 5. Boys are to be trained for the army examinations, but not 
 for these exclusively. 
 
 These principles were accepted by Dr. Butler, and have guided 
 the administration of the Modern Side ever since. 
 
 History of Modern Side. It commenced its existence in 
 September 1869, with three forms, 27 boys, and one form-master. 
 [The mathematical arrangements will be explained hereafter.] In 
 January 1870 the number of boys was 37, and a second master 
 was added to the Modern staff. The numbers increased slowly ; 
 in January 1873 they amounted to 56, and a third form-master 
 was created. But a tendency to decrease showed itself, which, 
 though temporary, seemed for a time persistent, and the third 
 master was dispensed with in January 1875, the numbers being 
 then 45. The larger staff was restored in September of the same 
 year, and since then the Modern Side has reached in January of 
 1876, 55 boys ; of 1877, 69 boys ; of 1878, 69 boys ; of 1879, 62 
 boys ; of 1880, 73 boys ; of 1881, 76 boys. In January 1881 a 
 fourth form-master was added ; and next week I anticipate that 
 the numbers of the Modern Side will be somewhat over 80. 
 
 It would not be becoming in me to speak of the personal quali- 
 fications of my colleagues in the teaching of the Modern forms ; 
 but I may say that from the commencement till now our work 
 has been completely harmonious ; the arrangements have been 
 matters of constant discussion in common ; and there has never 
 been the smallest jar to disturb our cordial relations and the 
 development of our work. 
 
 General Description. The changes in the working of the 
 Modern Side have been entirely changes in detail, and hardly 
 need description. It may be enough to delineate it as it exists at 
 present. 
 
 The forms, which are seven or perhaps eight in number, 
 are (as regards school rank) distributed among those of the 
 Classical Side ; taking their place, with as much evenness as can 
 be attained, at intervals from the Sixth Form to the Lower Shell. 
 There is no Modern Fourth Form. The promotions are intended 
 to be so arranged that the progress of an average boy shall be 
 approximately equal in both departments. Each of the Modern 
 form-masters has, in general, two forms in his charge, which, 
 though working in some subjects together, are kept separate in 
 order and in marks. To his forms, as such, the form-master 
 teaches divinity, history, for the most part Latin, sometimes 
 English, and to a certain extent French; and he is generally
 
 A MEMOIE 105 
 
 responsible for their reports, ' placings,' &c. But apart from his 
 form-work, each master gives lessons, as far as his time allows 
 him, to classes of boys in some of the following subjects German, 
 geography, French composition and in some cases mathematics. 
 These classes are arranged according to special merit in the 
 subject taught, and irrespectively of form order. All the higher 
 mathematical classes are taught by Mr. B., whose work is solely 
 mathematical, but is also partly given to the Classical Side ; and 
 some other mathematical masters belonging to the Classical Side 
 give a certain amount of mathematical help to the Modern. The 
 science teaching is in the hands of the science masters, and is 
 organised in the same way as that of the rest of the School. 
 The Modern form-masters are now myself, Mr. C., Mr. D., and 
 Mr. G. 
 
 In 'pupil-room,' it is intended that the members of the 
 Modern Side shall be free to join those of the Classical Side who 
 have the same tutor ; and the hours of school-work are arranged 
 with this object. In spite of some difficulties of detail, I should 
 be sorry to alter this understanding. 
 
 Entrance to Modern Side. Entrance to the Modern Side was at 
 first confined to boys already in the School. It was thought that 
 for some time the restriction would be necessary, in order to 
 prevent an influx of very dull boys, to whom it would be difficult 
 to refuse admission. This rule was relaxed in April 1874, when 
 competent new-comers were allowed to join the Modern Side at 
 once ; it may be interesting to mention that the first boy who did 
 so was a son of one of the governors of the School. It was provided 
 that the entrance examination should be held several weeks before 
 the actual time of entrance, and that those only should be admitted 
 who could pass with credit in mathematics and French, some 
 Latin being also required. The tendency to think that the Modern 
 Side affords a safe refuge for ignorance is still so great among the 
 parents and tutors of backward boys, that I am convinced that 
 these safeguards cannot yet be prudently withdrawn. It is also 
 provided that those who join from the Classical Side must have 
 done at least fairly well in their previous forms. This rule is also 
 still indispensable. Of its application to particular boys I have 
 been regarded as the interpreter, subject to an appeal to the Head- 
 master. 
 
 Comparing the two classes of boys who join the Modern Side, 
 there is no doubt which are the more successful. Those who have 
 begun at an early age to study the Modern subjects beat out of the
 
 106 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 field, for the most part, those who take to them after spending 
 some time on Classical work. The certainty of this result is such 
 as surprises me, and I venture to think that the inference from it 
 is most important. I lay so much stress on it that it seems to me 
 worth while to mention the following fact. Taking the seven 
 Modern forms one by one, as they stood in the last examination, 
 and collecting the first five in each, there results a total of 35 boys, 
 the best of their several ages. Of these boys two only, the third in 
 one form and the fifth in another, had been on the Classical Side at 
 first. The other 33 had all joined at entrance. 
 
 Character of Modern Side, Intellectual and Social. The limi- 
 tations above mentioned are successful, to a considerable extent, 
 in excluding the most incompetent boys. They are obviously not 
 capable of attracting the most clever ; still they no doubt exercise 
 some influence in conciliating public respect. The a priori feeling of 
 School society would naturally be to consider any special department 
 as a resource for idleness or stupidity ; it needs a hard struggle to 
 check, or ultimately destroy, this prejudice. The general result is 
 that the Side consists for the most part of average boys. Very 
 clever ones are more rare than on the Classical Side. They were 
 to some extent attracted by the Modern -Entrance scholarships, 
 which existed from 1876 to 1880, and which certainly encouraged, 
 both directly and indirectly, the entrance of able boys. Eecent 
 regulations, which came into force this year, have tended somewhat 
 against the interest of the Modern Side, in so far as they have 
 substituted for ' Modern ' scholarships ' mathematical ' ones, which 
 may be tenable on the Classical Side ; and have diminished the 
 comparative importance of French. 
 
 On the other hand, it is satisfactory to think that the Modern 
 Side has been able to preserve itself from any social disfavour. 
 The boys who have composed it have been certainly not, relatively 
 to their number, the least popular or prominent or influential boys 
 in the School. On the whole, their personal character has stood, 
 as far as I can judge, quite as high as, and perhaps higher than, 
 that of the mass of their schoolfellows. In a more restricted 
 sense of the term social, it is probable that the classes from which 
 the members of the Modern Side have been drawn have been in a 
 proportion larger than the average, the more influential classes 
 of society. From another, and to the boys themselves an important, 
 point of view, it is worth recording that though numbering from 
 one-tenth to one-sixth of the School, the Modern Side ha"s been in 
 the habit of rivalling the Classical in the common outdoor games.
 
 A MEMOIE 107 
 
 Details of Work. I may now with advantage offer a short 
 sketch of some details of our Modern work. 
 
 Mathematics is worked in sets, of from twelve to fifteen boys 
 each, the Sixth Form being, however, kept separate from the rest ; 
 and these sets are different for each mathematical subject. Each 
 boy has five, six, or seven lessons a week, with preparation for 
 each. Boys preparing for special examinations have more, drop- 
 ping other subjects in which they are weak. 
 
 To science there is allotted the same time as on the Classical 
 Side, with from time to time some slight attempt at a better 
 classification. 
 
 Latin is taught two or three times a week, attention being 
 given to the meaning of the books as much as to verbal detail. 
 Quantity is aimed at as much as quality, and it is desired, since so 
 little time is devoted to the subject, that a boy should read more 
 authors, and more of each, than he could do if he worked more 
 closely at the scholarship of the lesson. Possibly we carried 
 this idea too far at first, and we are endeavouring to recall our 
 energies a little more to the diction itself. On the whole, Latin as a 
 language does not reach a high standard ; still, a boy gains some- 
 thing of the ideas and writings of Eome ; and it must be remem- 
 bered that those who join the Modern Side are in almost all 
 cases boys who are presumably less good in Latin than in other 
 subjects. 
 
 Divinity is taught on Sunday and on Monday morning ; on the 
 latter day the French Testament is used instead of the Greek. 
 This answers well ; it is but nominal labour for most boys to 
 construe it, but it supplies a vehicle for a lesson, when translated 
 aloud. I have not for some years done any ecclesiastical history ; 
 I am sorry that our curriculum is unable to include this. 
 
 French is learnt partly by translation in ordinary lessons (in 
 the lower forms) and partly by careful lessons and exercises in 
 prose composition ; the latter is taken in special sets or divisions. 
 Grammar lessons as such are rarely given to young boys, but all 
 are trained in grammatical usages and laws. In the upper forms 
 very little French construing is orally practised, but a French 
 book is prepared, on the substance of which a lesson is given. In 
 two of the three terms I always use for this purpose a campaign 
 of Napoleon from Thiers, and have great reason to be satisfied with 
 the lesson. Boys seem to themselves to be doing manly work ; to 
 be treated less as children ; to come out of the cloister. 
 
 For German we break up altogether into sets, since most boys
 
 108 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 know no German when they enter. I think we succeed pretty 
 well. We all agree most fully in the two following principles, 
 drawn from our German teaching : one, that boys taught in divi- 
 sions make much faster progress than if taught in classes arranged 
 according to an aggregate of subjects ; the other, that boys who 
 begin a language late make much faster progress than boys who 
 begin it early. 
 
 History is formally taught but little; but it is incidentally 
 taught all day, and the more in proportion as a boy ascends the 
 School. In the upper forms an historical allusion is never remote 
 from the purpose of any lesson, and the subject is made, in one 
 way or another, one of the most important. The theory on which 
 we work is not the very influentially supported one, that a 
 boy should learn little but learn it well : we do, it is true, take 
 detached pieces of history and study them with much care ; but 
 our aim is that a boy shall also, if intelligent and industrious, 
 have some rough knowledge of general history by the time he 
 leaves school ; that he shall begin early to form for himself a 
 framework of historical knowledge, which he can fill up more and 
 more accurately as he has opportunity. 
 
 English literature is read at least once a week, and generally 
 forms part of the holiday task. For English composition we have 
 not as much time, or as much master-power, as would enable us to 
 pursue it methodically. Indeed, a weak point in our system seems 
 to lie in the lower results which are reached in the form, as com- 
 pared with the substance of the training. The higher boys have 
 not, as on the Classical Side, the advantage of masters specially 
 appointed to teach composition on paper ; the comparative infre- 
 quency of accurate translation into English, and the great com- 
 parative emphasis which is given to the supply of information and 
 the storage of facts, tend to throw the value of all the details of 
 literary excellence into the shade. Faults of spelling, and ill- 
 arranged sentences, are often noticeable in boys who have read in 
 school more English literature than the average of their com- 
 panions. Still, it would be a mistake to suppose that such faults 
 are necessarily due to the system of education solely. 
 
 Geography is taught formally to the youngest boys, and less 
 as they advance in the School ; but we think that in connection 
 with historical and other books we teach the subject as much 
 as is desirable. 
 
 Political economy, logic, and English philology form 1 from time 
 to time a portion of the teaching of the Sixth Form.
 
 A MEMOIE 109 
 
 Books for Modern purposes are now more numerous and better 
 than they were ten years ago. It may be worth while to mention 
 that there prevails among us the custom, to which I attach 
 great importance, that no books are used for our school-work 
 which have been written by masters at present engaged in our 
 teaching. 
 
 Besults. When we come to consider the results of the system 
 of teaching on the Modern Side, it is easy enough to specify some. 
 I should claim as emphatically in its favour the fact that to a 
 greater degree, as I believe, than under the Classical regime, the 
 boys like their work. To some extent at any rate, and I think 
 more than under other systems, the traditional repugnance of the 
 schoolboy to sit down to his lessons has been overcome. The 
 temptations of play are still strong to English youth ; but, these 
 apart, I cannot honestly complain of a large amount of idleness. 
 The boys do feel that they are being helped to learn, instead of 
 (as often seems to them the case) being put through a mill. In 
 the upper forms of the Modern Side punishments are never used. 
 And, what is perhaps still more important, I hope I am not mis- 
 taken in saying that whether they like their work or not, they re- 
 spect it. I do not find that old members of the Modern Side talk 
 of their past studies in the tone of disparagement which is so often 
 adopted, in speaking of school experiences, by others who have 
 been trained in classical scholarship without ever rising to its 
 higher regions. 
 
 But if asked what the real intellectual gain of a Modern pupil 
 is, as compared with a Classical, I feel that this must be matter of 
 individual opinion rather than of historic statement ; and my own 
 opinion on the most advantageous subject-matter of education 
 is hardly needed in this Memorandum. But I may advance one 
 or two propositions which are not . always sufficiently considered, 
 and which are yet beyond serious denial. 
 
 a. It is impossible for any boy, short of the very highest genius, 
 to grapple successfully with all the desirable subjects of education 
 during his school course. I cannot remember one who has done 
 so in the last ten years. 
 
 b. The study, of Greek is difficult and long. Very few boys 
 learn Greek well at school. I do not mean to infer that some who 
 learn it badly have gained nothing by the time spent ; but at 
 Harrow the lessons of Greek on the Classical Side are curtailed 
 within limits of time so narrow as to render advanced Greek 
 knowledge impossible to most boys.
 
 110 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 c. The majority of boys drop Greek on leaving school. Still 
 more drop it after a single year. 
 
 d. Few average men have time and energy sufficient to enable 
 them to study to much purpose in after life the two chief 
 Modern languages, and the rudiments of history and [of] English 
 literature. 
 
 e. Most Classical boys leave school knowing little or nothing 
 of these subjects. 
 
 /. For a great majority of minds a full study of low mathe- 
 matics is as useful as any work that can be undertaken ; and our 
 Harrow Classical education cannot without great difficulty em- 
 brace this. 
 
 The inference that for all except the few best adepts in 
 language a Modern education conveys a richer profit, seems to me 
 to follow from these considerations. Whether any other premisses 
 exist, based upon the paramount value of the Greek language 
 and of Classical composition, which turn the scale in the other 
 direction, I am hardly called upon to judge. 
 
 Indeed, the concrete results of our own Modern teaching are, 
 I fear, beyond the reach of any of the ordinary tests. To criticise a 
 product one must gauge the raw material ; and, while the success 
 of the Classical Side itself is in the main untested, because the 
 majority of its members never present themselves for any external 
 examination at the universities or elsewhere, that of the Modern 
 has an additional obscurity from the impossibility of estimating 
 exactly the intellectual rank of the pupils who enter it. Nor, 
 indeed, has it much opportunity of matching itself even against 
 the Classical Side on common ground, for there is very little ground 
 in common. It has, indeed, been said, and said in public, by very 
 eminent persons, that as a general rule Modern Sides are beaten by 
 Classical Sides, even in the examination for Modern prizes. No 
 one, it is true, could say this who had much knowledge of the 
 working of Harrow (where in the competitions which are open to 
 both divisions of the School alike the Modern Side has far more 
 than held its own) ; but it may be worth while to put on paper a 
 few facts which indicate the value of the statement. The chief 
 Modern subjects are mathematics, French, German, and history, 
 science being common to both sides. The chief prizes devoted to 
 these subjects, and open to the whole School, are the following : 
 
 a. The Neeld Mathematical Medal. A Modern Side candidate 
 was first in this examination in the years 1873, 1875, 1877, 1878, 
 1879, 1880, 1881.
 
 A MEMOIK 111 
 
 b. The ' Fortescue ' Prize for French or German. A Modern 
 boy gained it in 1872, 1873, 1874, 1875, 1876, 1880. 
 
 c. The ' Botfield ' Medal for German or French. A Modern boy 
 gained it in 1873, 1877, 1880. 
 
 There is no prize for knowledge of history at Harrow ; in the 
 ' Bourchier ' prize examination there was last year for the first time 
 one general historical paper, and in it a Modern boy was first. 
 The Divinity prize is not open to the Modern Side, since a know- 
 ledge of Greek is necessary. One of the Science prizes has been 
 won by a Modern candidate in 1875, 1876, 1878, 1880, 1881. Of 
 the two ' Flower ' prizes, for composition in Modern languages, one 
 at least has been won by a boy on the Modern Side every year that 
 they have been awarded since 1873. I should add that the 
 Modern Side has averaged one-eighth of the entire School. It may 
 be hoped that whether it is in the newspapers or in the Cambridge 
 Senate-house that the statement is in future made which I quoted 
 above, it may not remain uncontradicted. 
 
 As regards distinction at the university, I cannot claim much 
 success for the Modern Side. It has as yet had time but for few 
 honours, and in such opportunities as have been offered it has been 
 on the whole unfortunate. In the Army examinations it has done 
 fairly ; there have been two or three brilliant successes, many average 
 entries, and more than one bad failure. I have reason to believe 
 that cadets from the Harrow Modern Side are considered by the 
 authorities specially welcome at Woolwich. 
 
 Estimate of System. Passing to such estimate as I can form of 
 the general working of the system, I do not think, and have never 
 thought, that simple bifurcation was the best possible arrangement 
 of a school. But I argued twelve years ago, and still feel, that it 
 was then the only method by which Modern studies could be 
 introduced with the hope of much success. And if there be no 
 alternative which would admit of diversity of subjects, and grant 
 to the Modern ones an equal and fair field, I should be content to 
 bifurcate for ever. My own view is that the general plan of the 
 Modern organisation might be extended to the whole School, and 
 include Greek and higher Latin scholarship for some, or for 
 many, of the -boys ; but putting this aside, I do not feel that bifur- 
 cation, even if not the best possible arrangement, is yet wholly 
 vicious. It is easily understood ; it obviates the clashing of 
 subjects ; it maintains studies which might otherwise be neglected. 
 Divergence, it is often urged, should not begin too young. This, 
 whether bifurcation or multifurcation be adopted, depends on
 
 112 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 what is made the basis for subsequent diversity to repose upon. 
 If it is to include Greek, I cannot agree to the proposition ; and I 
 have shown above what is the comparative success in the Modern 
 forms of those pupils who begin Modern subjects early and those 
 who adopt them late ; but if Greek be reserved till the age of four- 
 teen or fifteen, as many and excellent authorities urge, I see no 
 reason why a common groundwork of study should not be given 
 to all boys up to this age. 
 
 Difficulties. I may now, perhaps, be permitted to offer some 
 remarks on the difficulties which beset all ' Modern ' education, 
 and those special obstacles which are more closely connected with 
 our Harrow organisation ; though it is hardly worth while to 
 separate these into two distinct categories. 
 
 (i) A mode of education which prefers other subjects to Greek 
 not only loses the advantage which long experience has given to 
 the old methods, and throws the teacher more upon his own half- 
 proved resources, but also raises a very sensible prejudice by its 
 very newness. This difficulty is one which, however great, 
 obviously cannot increase. 
 
 (ii) Most schoolmasters in England have been trained on the 
 old system, and have felt its advantages without being completely 
 alive to its defects. Many of them have little interest in other 
 than Classical studies. Parents have in general a bold confidence 
 in the wisdom of schoolmasters, and are prone to adopt any 
 prejudices which they may feel in favour of the older methods. 
 
 (iii) Neither of the universities is open to boys trained solely 
 on the Modern system ; and although the proportion of boys who 
 go from Harrow to the university is as large from the Modern as 
 from the Classical Side, it is nevertheless believed by a majority of 
 persons at Oxford and Cambridge that the pupils of Modern Sides 
 have no desire for a university career. Time has accordingly to 
 be wasted in special preparation ; and we have had promising boys 
 at Harrow who have given up the hope of such a career from the 
 impossibility of taking a degree without Greek. 
 
 (iv) The existence of the Modern side at Harrow is not known 
 to many parents of future Harrow boys. It would seem fair that 
 the alternative modes of education should be presented in the 
 School programmes with reasonable clearness, the Modern system 
 being offered not as a detached postscript, but as though on a 
 theoretical equality with the other. 
 
 (v) The absence of endowments has constituted a very serious 
 obstacle to the development of the Modern Side. Most Harrow boys
 
 A MEMOIE 113 
 
 do not need scholarships, and for my own part I should not despair 
 of teaching a class if all school prizes were abolished. But that 
 of two rival systems of education one should have rich rewards 
 and the other few or none, is certainly discouraging to the latter. 
 I have repeatedly endeavoured without success to bring to the 
 notice of the Harrow governing body the fact that though almost 
 all the Harrow scholarships are free, by their conditions of endow- 
 ment, from any limitation of subject, not a single pound has been 
 apportioned from them to the encouragement of Modern work. 
 In late years one or more scholarships of minor value have been 
 founded (besides two specially presented by the Headmaster) for 
 the benefit of the Modern Side, which have partly atoned for this 
 inequality. But I doubt whether a prize for historical knowledge 
 or a scholarship for simple mathematics would find a favourable 
 welcome, if offered. There are no ' Fifth Form ' prizes on the 
 Modern Side, as on the Classical ; there is no Divinity prize open 
 to the upper Modern boys ; there is for them no counterpart to the 
 large mass of composition prizes which now almost overtask the 
 energies of the higher Classical scholars. 
 
 (vi) Modern masters would work more efficiently if the distri- 
 bution of work could be better organised ; and the larger a body 
 of boys is, the more usefully can organisation be carried out. 
 Smallness of numbers has thus been against us ; so also have been 
 the conflicting claims of the Classical Side, to which some Modern 
 masters devote part of their time ; and still more the very rapid 
 changes in the Modern staff, and the difficulty of foreseeing the 
 allotment of classes which will have to be made term after term ; 
 with the "consequent necessity of makeshift expedients, and a 
 wasteful arrangement of the time of masters and boys. 
 
 (vii) However good, and however permanent, the arrangements 
 might be, Modern teaching must always be more wasteful of the 
 power of a teacher than that of Classical forms. Divisions must 
 be generally smaller, with more preparation for them on the 
 master's part, and more paper-work to be looked over. It would 
 seem to be, whether a wise proposition or not, at any rate a logical 
 inference, that boys on the Modern Side should pay a larger sum 
 for school teaching than those on the Classical. 
 
 (viii) Army candidates require a great deal of extra time and 
 trouble ; masters on the Modern Side are to many such boys as 
 much as, and often more than, a tutor. This remark tends in the 
 same direction as the last. I may add that geometrical drawing 
 is now an important subject for army entrance, and will in future
 
 114 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 be still more so ; and that we have no organisation for teaching it 
 in school on the Modern Side. 
 
 (ix) If the system of bifurcation should continue, it is probable 
 that for some time the Headmaster will be one who devotes his 
 own teaching entirely or almost entirely to the Classical Side, and 
 deputes the administration of the Modern, as far as its teaching 
 and the details of its arrangements are concerned, to one of his 
 colleagues. It is even possible that he may (in years unlike the 
 present) have little personal interest in the most prominent modern 
 subjects. There arise from this two dangers, which in some degree 
 must necessarily present themselves, but might under some con- 
 ditions become seriously pressing. It would not be unnatural that 
 the Modern Side boys, those who seldom or never, even at the close 
 of their career, come under the notice of the Headmaster, should 
 feel that they belong to an inferior and neglected department ; and 
 if it should happen that the Headmaster is a teacher who is 
 recognised by parents as of professional or other eminence, this 
 feeling will be aggravated. Equally unfortunate would be a 
 notion, if it should ever arise, among members of the Modern Side, 
 that in matters of school discipline they had to expect less con- 
 sideration than others from a master whose work lay with the 
 Classical boys alone. There are only two ways of avoiding these 
 dangers : one, that the Headmaster should ordinarily divide his 
 energies between the two departments, a scheme which would 
 involve a great sacrifice to that which is at present favoured ; and 
 the other, that more prominence and more authority should be given 
 to the chief master of the Modern Side, a plan which would be 
 extremely difficult in working, and would seriously damage the 
 uniformity of school administration in proportion as it developed 
 from theory into practice. I am not prepared to suggest any 
 remedy for the difficulty above mentioned, but only to indicate it 
 as a weak point in the system of bifurcation. 
 
 (x) Another difficulty, not of Modern education, but of the 
 method of bifurcation, is that within itself a Modern Side is com- 
 pelled to be almost as rigid as the Classical. It is practically 
 impossible, except with the highest boys and a very few others, to 
 introduce fresh internal divergence. And yet it does not follow 
 because a boy is good in mathematics, that he will be good in French 
 and German, or vice versd. At present one who combines a taste 
 for Greek with a taste for history is not suited in either department. 
 A general ' divisional ' system applied to the whole school might 
 give him his proper place; a simple partition into two 'Sides' 
 does not.
 
 A MEMOIE 115 
 
 (xi) It would hardly be expected that difficulties should be 
 wholly absent which depend on the individual adaptation of 
 particular masters to the details of Modern teaching, or the 
 apportionment of members of the staff for special times and special 
 quantities of work ; but if such difficulties should at any moment 
 exist or disappear, they could not with propriety be embraced in a 
 memorandum which is not intended to be confidential. 
 
 (xii) I have only to point out finally one difficulty which is 
 at present important, but will gradually become less so : that the 
 early training for a future Modern training is so incomplete 
 and precarious. Many preparatory schools never undertake the 
 function ; others dislike and discourage it. But this must be taken 
 as only one of the obstacles which beset, with happily decreasing 
 force, the development of what must be, however promising for 
 the future, still for the present an uphill task. 
 
 E. E. BOWEN. 
 
 There is hardly anything to be added with regard to 
 Edward Bowen's responsibility for the guidance and super- 
 vision of the Modern Side, and what little more there is to 
 say may as well be said here as later. He declined in 1888 
 to organise the Army class, not admitting the necessity for it, 
 and for the most part disliking the arrangement ; and the 
 organisation was committed to the hands of one of his 
 colleagues on the Modern Side. In 1893 a difference of 
 opinion arose between him and the Headmaster, the Rev. 
 J. E. C. Welldon afterwards Bishop of Calcutta, and now 
 (1902) Canon of Westminster in connection with a matter 
 of importance to the Modern Side as a whole, which 
 resulted in Edward Bowen's resignation of responsibility for 
 its management. The difficulty arose out of the infringe- 
 ment by Mr. Welldon (as he then was) of the rule, which 
 had been clearly laid down from the first, that the Modern 
 Side was not to be made a harbour of refuge for the less 
 able and satisfactory pupils. So strictly had this rule during 
 the Headmastership of Dr. Butler been adhered to, that 
 the Modern Side only received transfers from the Classical 
 by examination. Mr. Welldon, however, dropped this regu- 
 lation and flooded the lower forms on the Modern Side with 
 the worst boys on the Classical Side the latter being at the 
 
 i a
 
 116 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 time overfull. Edward Bowen disliked the change that 
 goes without saying ; but he would have been willing to 
 accept it, if it had been duly announced in the same Way 
 that he had in 1869 told Dr. Butler that he would take 
 charge of the Modern Side on either arrangement as to 
 its status in the School, so long as that arrangement 
 was clearly set out. He now asked Mr. Welldon that 
 the change in policy and administration should be duly 
 made public. This was refused on the ground that the 
 alteration was only temporary. Edward Bowen in conse- 
 quence declined to be further responsible for the superinten- 
 dence of the Modern Side, though he continued to his death 
 to teach the two upper forms. The responsibility for both 
 Modern and Classical Sides then passed to the Headmaster, 
 and still rests with him. But by 1893 the success of the policy, 
 which had ' after long hesitation ' been initiated nearly a 
 quarter of a century previously, had become completely assured 
 nay, had been so for some years ; and the manner in 
 which it had been carried out was generally recognised in 
 the profession as an example which had to be taken into the 
 fullest consideration. At that time there had probably been 
 no Modern Side subsequently started at an English public 
 school without careful inquiry being made into that at 
 Harrow as a pattern and guide full of importance and value. 
 The ' Side ' too had added considerably to its prestige in 
 school- work since the writing of the above Memorandum. 
 In 1893 it was absolutely pre-eminent in mathematics ; in 
 modern languages it more than held its own ; when general 
 history became part of the examination for the ' Bourchier ' 
 prize, then also the capacity of the Modern Side boy was 
 shown. It is curious, too, to find that three times the Fifth 
 Form prize for Latin prose went to representatives of that 
 department, and once the School prize for a Latin Epigram. 
 As regards the Universities, Entrance scholarships at Trinity, 
 Cambridge, were twice gained between 1883 and 1893. The 
 ' Side,' too, was successful in the examinations at Woolwich, 
 the first place being twice held by a boy direct ^from the 
 School, and in other years the 2nd, 4th, 5th, 7th, &c. At 
 the time of writing (1902) the Modern Side is about one-third
 
 A MEMOIE 117 
 
 of the whole, and its popularity is increasing rather than 
 diminishing ; while the addition of two Entrance scholarships 
 tenable only on that side one of them given by a relation of 
 Edward Bowen's in his memory, and the other provided by 
 some ground-rents at Totland, in the Isle of Wight, be- 
 queathed by him to the School will doubtless prove an 
 additional incentive to recruits, and will do at any rate 
 something more than had hitherto been done to remedy the 
 injustice to which he had drawn attention in 1881, and to 
 remove ' the very serious obstacle to the development ' of 
 that branch of the school-work which he then had made a 
 matter of complaint. Indeed, the time may come before 
 long when Harrow will be a Modern School with a Clas- 
 sical Side, unless yet another step in educational progress 
 should become possible and there be a fusion of the two 
 departments. 
 
 It was the year 1869 the year which witnessed the 
 birth of the Modern Side which saw the first of the famous 
 series of School songs. This was one descriptive of an 
 imaginary Harrow an ideal Harrow it is at first suggested, 
 standing in much the same relationship to the actual School 
 as Tennyson's ' island-valley of Avilion ' to our own country 
 of sudden storms and many temperatures. 
 
 Underneath the briny sea, 
 
 Where be the fishes and the mermaids three, 
 
 There lies Harrow as it ought for to be ! 
 
 Into this happy, luxurious place the fishes come to learn, 
 and to live the life of ' independent fish.' No question of 
 discipline enters in to chafe and fret. No match is ever 
 lost there. Fruit is to be had for the asking. Ices tumble 
 from the sky. All lessons obtain the highest rewards. 
 Prizes are universal, as a general rule. The mishaps of 
 construing are unknown : while sums have their answers 
 written upon them. As regards questions of virtue, the
 
 118 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 fundamental principle which prevails there is sheer incapacity 
 to do wrong. ' Fishes all are born good, naturally ! ' The 
 last verse, which comes as the correction of those preceding 
 it, sounds a deep note ; though its full significance is 
 almost lost in the badinage which the writer still employs. 
 The real Harrow is better than the imaginary. Life without 
 its obstacles would not be worth the living, while it is 
 discipline and struggle which give merit and value to 
 results. The permanence of victory is with righteousness, 
 and not with that which ' defileth,' which ' loveth and 
 maketh a lie.' 
 
 Which is the better, man, or boy, or fish, 
 
 To live life lazily, swimming as you wish, 
 
 Lolling dull heads about, twirling weary thumbs, 
 
 Or to take sweet and bitter, as sweet and bitter comes ? 
 
 Wealth without toil is a sorry sort of lot ; 
 
 Learning unworked for is just as well forgot ; 
 
 Good beats bad, when the fight is only free, 
 
 Both up at Harrow here, and under the sea. 
 
 The song is undoubtedly a fine one ; at the same time it 
 is among his least successful. Shortly afterwards before 
 the close of the year he gave the School his second, a light 
 little ditty, which Mr. Farmer set to a merry old English 
 tune. The subject is John Lyon's first experiences of pupils. 
 Two boys came to the founder of the school for instruction, 
 one useless in work and play, the other excelling in both. 
 As the latter wore a ribbon of blue, this became the School 
 colour : 
 
 Lyon of Preston, yeoman, John, 
 
 Died many years ago, 
 All that is mortal of him is gone, 
 
 But he lives in a school I know ! 
 All of them work at their football there, 
 
 And work at their five-times-three ; 
 And all of them, ever since that day, wear 
 A ribbon of blue like me ! 
 
 ! C 
 
 The next twelve or fifteen months produced two more 
 songs. The first of these never a very popular one, but
 
 A MEMOIE 119 
 
 pretty and tasteful is on the School Bell. The second 
 which is, and always has been, an immense favourite is 
 descriptive of ' the most lamentable comedy ' of a certain 
 popular monarch, whose prowess always excites so much 
 enthusiasm among friends, and so much dismay among 
 foes. 
 
 Willow the King is a monarch grand, 
 Three in a row his courtiers stand ; 
 Every day when the sun shines bright, 
 The doors of his palace are painted white ; 
 And all the company bow their backs 
 To the King with his collar of cobbler's wax. 
 So ho ! so ho ! may the courtiers sing, 
 Honour and life to Willow the King. 
 
 His Majesty, however, has a determined opponent in the 
 person of ' the Leathery Duke,' of whose enmity he is at 
 first disposed to make light. 
 
 'Who is this,' King Willow he swore, 
 1 Hops like that to a gentleman's door ? 
 Who's afraid of a Duke like him ? 
 Fiddlededee ! ' says the monarch slim : 
 ' What do you say, my courtiers three ? ' 
 And the courtiers all said, ' Fiddlededee ! ' 
 So ho ! &c. 
 
 But the King, in spite of his confidence, or rather in 
 consequence of it, falls a victim to his enemy, and is 
 carried off from the scene of his humiliation to be ' put to 
 bed in the green-baize tree.' The ' Duke ' in his turn is so 
 inflated with vanity that he turns into a football. 
 
 1 What of the Duke ? ' you ask anon, 
 ' Where has his Leathery Highness gone ? ' 
 he is filled with air inside 
 Either it's air, or else it's pride 
 And he swells and swells as tight as a drum, 
 And they kick him about till Christmas come. 
 So ho ! &c.
 
 120 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 The twelve months between the early summer of 1870 
 and that of 1871 brought Edward Bowen three sets of 
 holidays of peculiar interest. The first of these the 
 summer holidays of 1870 enabled him to visit, though not 
 for any great length of time, a portion of the ground of 
 the Franco-Prussian War, which had just broken out, and 
 which was already bringing the heaviness of defeat to 
 French gaiety and confidence. This was not indeed the 
 first occasion on which Edward Bowen had gone to the 
 scene of contemporary military operations. In 1864 he had 
 travelled with a friend in Denmark during the earlier stages 
 of the Sehleswig-Holstein war, had been taken over the 
 works of the fortress of Diippel shortly after the failure 
 of a Prussian assault upon it, and had even been under fire 
 there. But there is no complete record of this first expedi- 
 tion ; such as there is breaks off suddenly in the middle. 
 In 1870, however, he wrote to his mother a long letter 
 giving a vivid account of his experiences of his journey to 
 Weissenburg, just evacuated by MacMahon, of his following 
 down the line of the French retreat to Worth, of his visit 
 to the battle-field fourteen days after the sanguinary struggle 
 there and the letter has fortunately been preserved. E d ward 
 Bowen always had a curiously double nature as regards the 
 question of war. He was on the one hand an ardent 
 student of military history; he went to every, or almost 
 every, battle-field of note in Europe ; he carefully collected, 
 labelled, and kept little memorials stones or leaves of the 
 sites of battles ; he made and published military selections 
 for school use from Thiers' ' Histoire du Consulat et de 
 1'Empire.' On the other hand, his horror of war was 
 throughout the greater part of his life intense. Evidences 
 of his aversion to it have already been found in his Cam- 
 bridge work ; but the feeling only strengthened as time 
 went on. Edward Bowen was a ' peace at almost any 
 price ' man. He dreaded any encouragement of the mili- 
 tary instincts of a nation. He had once been a Volunteer, 
 but he became no well-wisher to the School Vplunteer 
 / corps. He remarked on one occasion that he would gladly 
 lead a revolution against universal conscription in this
 
 A MEMOIR 121 
 
 country. This strange two-sidedness was, as has just 
 been said, characteristic of all his manhood he was never, 
 even when an undergraduate, an advocate of militarism ; 
 he never, even in mature years, lost his love of battle- 
 fields. It cannot therefore be supposed that his dread of 
 war originated with his experiences in the summer of 1870, 
 when he did not indeed see face to face the naked horrors 
 of modern warfare in all their terrible hideousness and 
 deformity, but did look on a field in which the dead had 
 only just been buried, where their accoutrements were still 
 heaped high, and over which the smell of death hung 
 heavily. Still the knowledge, not from hearsay but from 
 sight, of what the ground which had been the scene of a 
 bloody and fierce contest between European troops may be, 
 even a fortnight after ' the battle ' has been ' lost and won/ 
 may well have done much to intensify that feeling of revulsion 
 from a policy involving actual warfare, which in spite of a 
 strong academical interest in military tactics marked him as 
 strongly and as continuously as any of his other qualities. The 
 point gains somewhat in importance from the family tradition 
 that he entertained, when on the verge of manhood, a very 
 keen desire to enter the Army, and that he only forewent the 
 fulfilment of it in deference to his mother's earnestly ex- 
 pressed wishes. If this be so, he was doubtless grateful to 
 her in after years for her deterrent influence. If Edward 
 Bowen had the brain of a soldier, there was that in him 
 which would have unfitted him, at any rate in a measure, 
 for the grim realities of a soldier's duties when on active 
 service. 
 
 His letter to his mother from France in August 1870 is 
 as follows : 
 
 Mannheim : August 22, 1870. 
 
 My dearest Mother, I fully meant to have dated a despatch 
 to you from the battle-field (a late, not present battle), but was too 
 tired each day. However, I sit down now immediately on returning 
 to civilised life. I think I last wrote from Switzerland ; since then 
 I have travelled a few days, partly on foot, partly by train, in 
 Bavaria, and at last made straight for the Rhine. After a round- 
 about route I at last found myself at Heidelburg, from which 
 I got to Carlsruhe, a few miles from the river, and nearly opposite
 
 122 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 the seat of war. All trains were slow, all unpunctual. Nothing 
 heard from morning to night but war-talk. The trains forward 
 [are filled] with recruits and stores, and backward with prisoners 
 and wounded, just as you have read in the papers. They are 
 hurrying up fresh troops as hard as ever. I crossed with a 
 quantity of the northern army (Von Falkenstein's), whom they are 
 sending to the front, naturally thinking that they will not be 
 wanted on the Baltic. A number of the Landwehr (militia) are 
 also going forward to occupy the ground as they take it, and 
 relieve the actual army. 
 
 My severer troubles began with crossing the Ehine. [There 
 is] a bridge of boats which leads over into the southern part of the 
 Palatinate German (Bavarian) ground. But I was quite deter- 
 mined to go on. The fact is that ten days before, when at Bale, I 
 had put on my knapsack and started for a walk into French Alsace 
 towards Mulhausen, and had been stopped and sent back by a 
 sentry, who would pay no heed to my protestations of neutrality. 
 ' My good sentry,' I said, as I went away (but not out loud), ' the 
 next time I choose to take a walk into France, I shall do it 
 without asking leave.' So I was on my way. I should say I 
 was not going to the front at all nowhere near the fighting, and 
 there was no danger whatever. The only two important rules to 
 observe were, first, never on any account to give anything to a 
 soldier ; second, not to carry firearms. What I did carry was an 
 umbrella and a carpet-bag. However, as to the bridge, I got across 
 it at last, having, when almost despairing, obtained a pass from 
 the major in command. I should say that all through the officers 
 were very well disposed and civil, except when now and then they 
 were over-bothered and irritable. The bridge crossed, what next ? 
 Here is a map. [A rough pen-and-ink sketch follows.] 
 
 There is a roundabout railway from the bridge to Weissen- 
 burg, but I found it was entirely stopped for traffic had none but 
 military trains, and none at all that day. I tried to get a carriage, 
 but the horses were all taken for the army. I asked for a cart, a 
 waggon, anything, but in vain. So I started off, carpet-bag in 
 hand. After about seven miles, I broke down, and found it 
 wouldn't do ; besides, it was raining. I went everywhere begging 
 for a horse ; but couldn't get one, till at last a man offered me a 
 carriage to take me the remaining miles to Weissenburg for a 
 napoleon. I closed with him and went off. We got there. It is 
 a walled town in France. The French occupied it on th'e morning 
 of the 4th. As I got near, all the ground looked as if a steeple-
 
 A MEMOIR 123 
 
 chase had been going over it palings broken down, vineyards 
 destroyed, cartridge-papers lying about. The sentry at the gate 
 made (to my surprise) no objection, and I entered the town just 
 as the evening was setting in, with an appearance of rain. I went 
 to the little inn of the place, a respectable sort of tavern. ' Can I 
 have a bed ? ' 'It can't be done. Quite impossible. Full of 
 soldiers, and some extra billets just come in.' I have learnt by 
 much experience never to take that kind of answer ; so in I went 
 and said that at all events I would have something to eat. Then 
 I told the host that he must try and manage somehow. I had 
 brought a shawl, in case it should be impossible to get a lodging, 
 but it looked rainy and cold, and I made up my mind to sleep on 
 a table. I had some food in a little room with about forty 
 soldiers, and presently the host told me that he had got me a bed. 
 A worthy butcher had turned out of his room and given it me. I 
 went with trembling into a little dirty house, but found a capital 
 bed ; and as I had been up at five the last two days I slept 
 soundly. Next day (up before six) I went off to see Worth. The 
 road to it (which lies through beautiful scenery the edge of the 
 Vosges Mountains) was that by which MacMahon's army had 
 retreated when forced away on the 4th from Weissenburg. I 
 passed over the Geisberg, which they had tried to defend, and the 
 slope where Douay, when all was lost, sent away his staff and 
 walked down calmly towards the enemy till he fell shot dead. 
 After about four hours' walking I reached Worth a little before 
 eleven, got some wine at a little tavern (the whole town is a vast 
 hospital now), and then spent two or three hours in walking about 
 the battle-field. 1 The marks of battle had begun long before I 
 reached the town, for the Prussians were terribly shot down as 
 they advanced over the slope towards the town. The French 
 held the town (a mere little village) and the hills behind it, their 
 lines forming two sides of a triangle with the apex at Worth 
 (which was helped by a fair-sized stream), and on each flank, the 
 sides of the triangle, were slight valleys. The Prussians attacked 
 in front (at Worth) and also on both flanks, which they could do, 
 being in much greater numbers. On their side of the little 
 valleys, especially on the French left (the north side), each valley, 
 slight as it was, was yet steep enough to resist an attacking force ; 
 and indeed the French position, generally speaking, seemed to me 
 a decidedly strong one ; but, though in front the Prussians had to 
 advance towards the village over open ground, and so got terribly 
 
 1 The battle had been fought on August 6.
 
 124 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 cut up, their advantage on the flank was very great, for their 
 side of the valleys had generally thick woods, while the French 
 side was often almost bare. The fight at the village itself was 
 very severe. Some houses [had been] burnt, some smashed in. 
 It seems to have been resolutely defended. It was the day fort- 
 night after the battle when I walked over the field. All the 
 bodies of men and horses had been buried, though it was im- 
 possible quite to bury everything, and there was the smell of 
 death everywhere about. But the rest of the d6bris lay thick. 
 Knapsacks, caps, helmets, everywhere : rifles, scabbards (they 
 had carried away all the swords and valuable things generally), 
 cartridges, boxes, boots, gaiters, epaulettes, by the thousand. 
 Curious things, too, which one would not have thought of a great 
 quantity of private letters from the soldiers' friends, bits of books, 
 brushes in great numbers, little bottles of various things, tobacco 
 pouches, playing cards, and of course empty cartridges and full 
 ones too. The prevailing impression it made upon the mind was, 
 what a tremendous loss of life it was. You could see where the 
 carnage had been thickest by the knapsacks and helmets that lay 
 almost in heaps. There was one place, on the French left flank, 
 almost their rear, where an open grass slope reaches down to a 
 wood ; the French were on the slope, the Germans (it was a 
 Bavarian corps) were in the wood. At the edge of the latter, as 
 they advanced to attack it, the French must have been absolutely 
 massacred ; they seem to have fallen almost by companies at a 
 time. A little hollow with a pool in it at the edge of this wood 
 lay thick with debris, and I could notice places where some 
 wounded man had crept into the brushwood and lain down, and 
 perhaps his cartridge pouch and his knapsack were there still, 
 and the mark of where he lay. Belies of this kind stretched for 
 two or three miles, or more ; then they became less and less thick, 
 but did not stop for I suppose a distance of six or eight miles in 
 length. The cavalry had followed as they fled. The Prussians 
 had suffered as much ; but their loss was earlier in the day and 
 nearer the village, and the wrecks had been more cleared away. 
 But to clear away all would be an almost endless task, and I 
 wonder they have done the burying as well as they have. Here 
 and there, there is already a little wooden cross stuck up, with 
 some officer's name in pencil on it. I spent two or three hours in 
 walking about the ground ; no one stopped me. I should say 
 that I had at Weissenburg got a pass from the major in 1 command 
 to go about as I liked, on a distinct promise that I would not
 
 A MEMOIR 125 
 
 attempt to make my way to the actual front. I should tire you if 
 I were to say how often I was stopped and questioned at other 
 places. I am perfectly tired of saying who I am and what is my 
 business, especially as it is so difficult to make them understand 
 that one can go about without having any business at all. I did 
 not see any other Englishman, though there had been two there 
 a couple of days before ; they had had passes from the Crown 
 Prince, and I think I know who they were. 
 
 I picked up and took away some little memorials of the field, 
 bits of shell, &c. I felt very much inclined to take a chassepot, 
 but how could I carry it all the way home? especially as it 
 would have been taken away, and still more as there were procla- 
 mations here and there that any civilian found with arms in his 
 hand would be immediately shot. However, when at one place 
 I found a sword, not very much rusted a shortish straight sword 
 such as the subaltern officers wear it was too tempting, and 
 I seized upon it. The problem was how to conceal it. As I pon- 
 dered the matter a happy thought struck me. I had brought my 
 umbrella ! I stuck the blade of the sword inside, and perfectly 
 concealed it. But the hilt wouldn't go ha neatly, and being of 
 bronze glared awkwardly out by the handle. Happy thought 
 again ! I stuck the upper part of the umbrella under my arm, 
 and held it as one walks with a gun. So I started off walked 
 about seven miles ; and on the way met three or four battalions 
 of troops on the march, besides stragglers. I thought they never 
 would have done ; and all the while I had to walk past with my 
 umbrella fast stuck under my arm, and every now and then the 
 point would keep piercing through the silk in a terribly awkward 
 way. I was dead tired when I got to a station, where I found a 
 train with soldiers was to pass in an hour, and the officer gave 
 me leave to go with them. So I got back to Weissenburg and my 
 friendly butcher. 
 
 This morning I got another pass to take a soldiers' train 
 towards here if I could find one going ! I went to the station ; 
 they said they did not know when there would be one there 
 might be one at any moment. I walked up and down the station 
 for six hours and three-quarters ; but had some eggs to eat, and 
 my pipe to smoke. Then I got a train, which took about four 
 hours to do about five-and-twenty miles. I came with a wounded 
 soldier, who had had his hand smashed at Worth. I had a couple 
 of miles more to carry my carpet-bag, concealed my sword all the 
 way, and am here.
 
 126 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 I mean to try and get down the Ehine, and expect to be in 
 England some time on Saturday, if all goes well. 
 
 The winter holidays of the same year were spent on an 
 interesting and very important astronomical expedition. A 
 scientific party was being sent out from this country to Sicily 
 to take observations in connection with the eclipse of the 
 sun, and Edward Bowen obtained permission to accompany it. 
 Among those who went were the present Sir Norman Lockyer 
 and Sir Henry Eoscoe, and it was to the latter that Edward 
 Bowen was especially assigned as a sort of aide-de-camp. The 
 journey was uneventful until they reached Naples. Here a 
 small and fast boat had been chartered to take the party to 
 their destination. Off the Sicilian coast, however, within a 
 hundred yards of the shore, the ship struck on a rock. For- 
 tunately the sea was perfectly smooth, or crew and passengers 
 would have been in considerable jeopardy. As it was, they were 
 all safely landed, although one man was slightly hurt. None 
 the less the wreck threw out all calculations, and it was for 
 a while uncertain how far the party would now be able to 
 accomplish their mission. Delicate instruments, most care- 
 fully and elaborately prepared in England, were only too 
 likely to be injured or ruined by the rough handling of the 
 sailors and the general jostling which they received. But 
 less damage was done than might reasonably have been 
 expected ; and in the evening of that eventful day the whole 
 expedition was safe at Catania. Here every kindness awaited 
 its members. The American scientists at once proposed 
 that, while the organisations should be kept distinct, the 
 representatives of the two countries should work together, 
 and should publish a joint report; while to the physical 
 wants of the shipwrecked mariners there was offered accom- 
 modation in a splendid monastery on the outskirts of the 
 town. The whole of the next week was spent in prepara- 
 tions. For the purpose of the observations various parties 
 were formed, Professor Koscoe taking charge of that to 
 which a site on Etna was allotted. But so far as he and 
 his were concerned, the expedition terminated in complete 
 disappointment. On the day before the eclipse all the
 
 A MEMOIE 127 
 
 instruments were carried up, together with food and fuel, on 
 the backs of mules, to a spot some 5,000 feet above the sea, 
 where the night was spent in a hut. They had hoped to 
 go still higher, but the weather rendered any further advance 
 impossible. All night long there raged a storm of lightning 
 and snow. The critical hour, however, was two o'clock in 
 the afternoon of the next day, and there was, notwithstand- 
 ing the tempestuous character of the night, a hope that by 
 that time the weather might be favourable and the eclipse 
 be visible. In the morning it did clear for a while, and 
 the little party could even see another group of observers 
 far below them. But just as the sun darkened, the air 
 thickened ; and at the moment of totality there came a 
 blinding hail-storm of extraordinary ferocity, which rendered 
 all observations impossible. Eight minutes afterwards the 
 sky was clear again. Others, however, had been more suc- 
 cessful ; and in the article which Edward Bowen contri- 
 buted to the ' Saturday Keview ' of January 7, 1871, on 
 ' The Lessons of the Eclipse,' and in which he touched 
 briefly on the scientific results attained, he was able to claim 
 without hesitation that the expenditure of trouble and money 
 upon the Sicilian expedition had not been thrown away. 
 
 But the Easter holidays of 1871 brought experiences of 
 even greater interest and importance than those of the 
 previous summer. In the course of them, Edward Bowen 
 paid a short visit to Paris during a period of that city's 
 history which has often excited indignation and horror, but 
 which has done so very largely because the facts have not 
 been realised, and have hitherto been concealed from any 
 likelihood of realisation by the heap of hideous libels and 
 slanders piled up by triumphant and vindictive enemies. 
 The Paris Communists had taken up arms against the 
 Government at Versailles in the middle of March; and it 
 was about four weeks afterwards that Edward Bowen, in 
 company with Mr. Frank Marshall, who had just joined the 
 staff at Harrow, went across to France, made his way into 
 the capital without any sort of difficulty, and spent some six 
 or seven days there. His visit was aided by a letter of intro- 
 duction to a resident, who was able to give him much
 
 128 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 information both as to the causes of the outbreak and as to 
 the personnel of the leaders. Unfortunately, his stay was 
 cut short by the imperative necessity of returning home in 
 time for the commencement of the summer term ; and he 
 was therefore no longer in Paris at the time of the entry of 
 the Versaillais, and witnessed nothing of the indiscrimi- 
 nate massacre of many thousands which was deliberately 
 perpetrated in the name of law r and order ; but his experi- 
 ences form an important and eloquent testimony to the para- 
 doxical state of Paris during the brief and ill-fated reign of 
 the Commune, and to the completeness of some popular 
 delusions with regard to the character of its administration. 
 Indeed, there can be no doubt that he accepted as approxi- 
 mately accurate such a picture of the social condition of 
 Paris as is contained in the following passage from Lissa- 
 garay's ' History of the Commune,' a history written by a 
 Communist soldier, and first published in 1876 : l 
 
 The official despatches, the hireling journalists established at 
 Versailles, pictured her [Paris] as the pandemonium of all the 
 blacklegs of Europe, recounted the thefts, the arrests en masse, the 
 endless orgies, detailed sums and names. According to them, 
 honest women no longer dared venture into the streets ; 1,500,000 
 persons oppressed by 20,000 ruffians were offering up ardent 
 prayers for Versailles. But the traveller running the risk of a 
 visit to Paris found the streets and boulevards tranquil, presenting 
 their usual aspect. The pillagers had only pillaged the guillotine, 
 solemnly burnt before the mairie of the eleventh arrondissement. 
 From all quarters the same murmurs of execration rose against 
 the assassination of the prisoners and the ignoble scenes at 
 Versailles. The incoherence of the first acts of the Council was 
 hardly noticed, while the ferocity of the Versaillese was the topic 
 of the day. Persons coming full of indignation against Paris 
 seeing this calm, this union of hearts, these wounded men crying, 
 ' Vive la Commune ! ' these enthusiastic battalions, there Mont 
 Vale'rien vomiting death, here men living as brothers in a few 
 hours caught the Parisian malady. 
 
 1 The second edition was suppressed by the French Government. There 
 is, however, an English translation made from this edition by E. M. Aveling, 
 and it is from this translation (p. 182) that the passage cited is takeh. Another 
 English version is, at the time of writing, stated to be in preparation and 
 almost on the eve of issue.
 
 A MEMOIE 129 
 
 Such a passage is endorsed in the main by Edward 
 Bowen's account of the besieged and distracted city. Paris 
 was orderly. There was no serious crime. There was a 
 certain amount of disgusting literature on sale in the 
 streets, but the streets, taken as a whole, were probably 
 purer than under the Empire. There was no incitement in 
 the Communist press to murder or pillage, while the Ver- 
 saillese papers were clamouring for the blood of the Federals. 
 Even the narrower streets and rougher districts of the city 
 were safe for the pedestrian. As for the soldiers of the 
 Commune, they were invariably courteous. Edward Bowen 
 tells a story of one of them, with whom he made friends, 
 refusing half of a chicken sausage because it was the last 
 piece that his English host had with him. So far as the 
 National Guards had police duties to discharge, they dis- 
 charged them with civility and good temper. No revolutionary 
 movement is ever perfectly pure throughout, and doubtless the 
 Communists of 1871 were 'a mixed lot ; ' but that the good 
 and heroic prevailed Edward Bowen held strongly, and he 
 never swerved from his opinion. That the Commune itself 
 never took a single life ; that the seizure of the hostages 
 was a necessary and successful expedient ; that the subse- 
 quent outrages, of which the more savage elements in Parisian 
 society were finally guilty, paled before the infamous atro- 
 cities of the commanders of the Versaillais ; that the firing of 
 the Tuileries if it was not the result of the bombardment 
 was an act pardonable both as an expedient to stay the 
 advance of bloodthirsty and murderous troops, and in view 
 of the associations connected with the Tuileries in the mind 
 of the Paris workman ; that it was ten thousand times 
 better to have been Delescluze than to have been Galliffet 
 these were opinions which Edward Bowen never sur- 
 rendered, and which were based partly on his sympathy 
 with some of tlie Communistic aims, partly on his personal 
 experiences in Paris, and partly on an almost unrivalled 
 knowledge of the subject. There are two records of his 
 visit, both from his own pen. One of them is contained in 
 a letter to his mother, written the day after his return to 
 England ; the second is a lecture which was delivered about 
 
 K
 
 130 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 sixteen years afterwards (October 31, 1887) to the local 
 Liberal Club at Harrow, with his friend Mr. Bryce in the 
 chair. The latter, which represents his mature opinions, 
 and which is probably far the best thing in English on the 
 movement, is printed in full among the Appendices. The 
 letter may be given here, and is as follows : 
 
 I wonder whether you got my two letters : one I sent by a 
 stranger on Thursday, and the other with a rather better chance 
 on Friday. Yesterday at 1 o'clock we were just opposite Asnieres 
 watching the cannonading and sharp-shooting from the top of an 
 unfinished house. We dined in hearing of the guns at 6 in Paris, 
 and reached here [Harrow] at 8 this morning. I hardly know 
 what to say ; we have seen so much chat is interesting. I think 
 I will give you first a rough outline of what we did, and then 
 general impressions. 
 
 The first and second days were devoted to going about, and 
 looking at barricades, and getting views from inside. At first we 
 were a little nervous about going in small streets and into rough 
 districts, but we soon found out it was safe everywhere except as 
 regards shells, for we never ventured to go quite to the very west 
 corner of Paris, where they kept always falling rather thick. 
 We found out, however, one or two capital places for seeing 
 from. Once or twice we ventured on a view from the Arc de 
 Triomphe, where there was really very little danger, and a few 
 sightseers were constantly clustering about it. Another time we 
 got a porter of a house that had been abandoned to let us go and 
 look out of its highest window, where we got very near the fighting. 
 We were rather startled to find that a shell had burst a few days 
 before actually in that very room ; but, as he said, it was an 
 obits egard, a shell that had lost its way and was altogether 
 exceptional. Once we got a good look over the walls by going 
 and standing on a barricade that nobody was guarding, till a 
 sentry found us out and turned us off. There was a grand view 
 from Montmartre, which is a kind of citadel of Paris in the north, 
 not fortified except now with strong barricades. It is the place 
 where the cannon were kept at first which brought on all the 
 trouble. This was rather far off ; nearly a couple of miles from 
 the nearest fighting, but it commanded a splendid view (especially 
 with an opera glass) of the whole valley of the Seine west of Paris ; 
 and as each shot was fired we could name the spot, and generally 
 see where it hit ; and [we could] hear the mitrailleuses and the 
 usillade distinctly, but on some days there was much more of it
 
 A MEMOIR 131 
 
 than on others. Another interesting walk was down on the south 
 side, where the forts of Vanves and Issy are. Here they did not 
 mind our getting on the ramparts, and we could see the forts playing 
 on the slopes beyond them where the enemy's batteries were. Two 
 of the days we spent in going about outside [the walls], on the east 
 side, among the Prussians, to look at the ruins of the war. One 
 was devoted to the north-east, where Le Bourget is, the village 
 which was so often taken and retaken, and where the Prussian 
 guards got so cut up ; the other to the scene of the great sortie of 
 December, the villages of Bry and Champigny at the south-east 
 side, on the Marne. The desolation is as complete as you can con- 
 ceive. The country indeed is recovering fast, except that so many 
 trees are cut down ; but in some villages, for example Bry, there 
 is hardly a house that has not suffered ; often a whole group 
 absolutely reduced to rubbish or burnt. In one village we could 
 not see a single house remaining in the half of it which was nearest 
 the Prussians. One [house] struck us which, besides [being damaged 
 by] shells, had its front door scored by bullets just like drops of 
 thick rain ; and over one door was the significant placard ' Maison 
 habitee.' We ate our lunch on a ruined wall over Champigny, 
 just in front of a grave where fifty Prussians were buried, looking 
 all over the south of Paris, five miles away where Vanves and 
 Issy were firing, and listening at the same time to their reports 
 and to a nightingale in the trees above us ! But I think our last 
 day was the best ; we had gone out with the idea that there was to 
 be an armistice, and we meant to get into Neuilly and see the effects 
 of the fighting ; so we got outside and walked slowly towards the 
 west side, where it all goes on. The guns did not stop, so we 
 went slower and slower, till we began to think we could not safely 
 venture nearer, when just in a village called Clichy we came full 
 on a battery which was firing across the river. A friendly inhabi- 
 tant showed us where we were safe and where not. ' That,' said 
 he, ' is a mlain coin, a nasty corner ; the bullets come by constantly ; 
 but if you get up into that unfinished house, and peep out from the 
 top, you can see capitally.' So we got up with one or two men 
 and a National Guard or two, and just below us at two hundred 
 yards off was tlie battery at the bridge firing away, while the 
 National Guards were taking rifle-shots across the river at the park 
 of Asnieres whenever they saw a chance. There were no shells 
 falling within nearly half a mile of us, and no bullets came near 
 us, so we could not have had a better spot. It is curious to think 
 that it was this time yesterday. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Now about politics. Paris is perfectly tranquil, well-governed, 
 orderly. There is no crime, no pillage, except one or two forcible 
 confiscations of semi-public property by central authority. Every- 
 body was perfectly civil. Even the roughest sentry was good- 
 humoured and polite ; and close by the H6tel de Ville the 
 National Guards merely said gently, ' Move on, please, citoyens, 
 move on ! ' Opinion is freely expressed. I repeatedly heard 
 the Commune blamed in public and in private. On the whole, 
 however, I think the Commune is not gaining ground. I came 
 away with a tolerably clear idea of its chief men and its position, 
 thanks to that introduction which I told you I had, and to constant 
 newspaper reading not to mention a republican club of which I 
 went to a meeting, and where I heard rather good speeches, some 
 eloquent and some distinctly thoughtful. Everybody is unanimous 
 (except a few of the upper classes) in hatred of Versailles Thiers 
 especially, and Jules Favre, and above all Picard ; but the Commune 
 itself is not very strong, and has its own dissensions, and even 
 while we were there a movement took place which seemed to 
 throw power into the hands of the more violent section. So I 
 don't think it can win. But it is very strong from a military point 
 of view, and its soldiers fight well there has been more loss of 
 life than you would judge from the newspapers. I fear things will 
 be worse before they are better, and I cannot see any solution 
 without a good deal more fighting. 
 
 Paris is half deserted. All the ' west-end ' is simply desolate. 
 About half the shops are shut. There is not a single table d'hdte in 
 Paris. Prices are rather high already. We only saw one private 
 carriage the whole week, and that on the last day. About the 
 Champs Elyse'es and near the fighting all except the poor people 
 have gone away; and it is curious to see them walking about 
 keeping a row of houses always close to shellward of them. In 
 fact Paris is absolutely in the hands of its lower classes, who 
 govern it with perfect order, and without half as much violence or 
 crime as went on before, though not a single policeman exists in 
 the city, and not a single court of justice is sitting. 
 
 The scholastic work of the next two years (1871-1873) 
 was very largely connected with the remodelling of the 
 School regulations, which had been rendered necessary by 
 the Public Schools Commission of 1861 and the consequent 
 legislation. The report of the Commission had appeared
 
 A 35 
 
 x^
 
 A MEMOIK 133 
 
 quite early in 1868, and in the same year an Act had been 
 passed giving the governing bodies of the chief public schools 
 powers to reconstitute themselves, and requiring them to do 
 so before a specified date. These reconstituted bodies were 
 then to draw up new regulations for their respective schools, 
 subject to the approval of the Privy Council. Accordingly 
 the reorganised governing body of Harrow were at this 
 time engaged in framing fresh rules, but before finally 
 passing them they very properly consulted the views of the 
 staff of assistant masters, and submitted for their criticism 
 a rough draft of the amended statutes. The memorandum 
 which was sent in reply was signed on behalf of the assistant 
 masters by the Eev. F. Eendall and Edward Bowen, the 
 latter having been especially responsible for its composition. 
 Many of the criticisms contained in it deal only with details 
 or technicalities, and are of no public interest; but it 
 undoubtedly contains ample proof not only of Edward 
 Bowen's statesmanlike view of the whole subject, but also 
 of his lawyerlike capacity for detecting bad draftsmanship 
 and inconsistencies, as well as a considerable power of deal- 
 ing with finance. His general attitude towards the changes 
 which were now set on foot may be thus briefly summarised. 1 
 
 (1) The Eelation of the School to the Town. It was 
 natural that the town should cling to a literal reading of 
 the old charters. Edward Bowen, on the other hand, 
 always held (a) that it was the intention of the founder 
 that the School should be bond fide a grammar school, i.e. a 
 school providing the necessary training for the universities, 
 or at least supplying a higher education; (6) that in any 
 case the new Act made the School henceforward national 
 and not local. 
 
 (2) Entrance Scholarships. These did not for some 
 time meet with universal acceptance at Harrow ; and till 
 quite lately those hostile to them on the general ground 
 that they were not suitable to such a school as Harrow- 
 retained an able and important representative even upon 
 the governing body. But the report of the Commission had 
 
 1 I owe this summary to Mr. Charles Colbeck, now senior master on the 
 Modern Side at Harrow.
 
 134 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 pointed to the necessity of the system unless Eton, Win- 
 chester, and Charterhouse, with their large foundations, 
 were to be allowed to secure by their wealth the great 
 majority of the most intellectual boys from the private 
 schools. Unfortunately Harrow neither had then, nor has 
 now, such endowments as to enable her to compete with 
 these rich rivals on anything approaching equal terms ; and 
 a scheme had to be devised to enable some kind of entrance 
 scholarships to be offered. The plan which was actually 
 adopted, with a view of partially providing the requisite 
 funds, was to allow an extra boy to each house, but at con- 
 siderably less than the usual charges. The idea was chiefly 
 Edward Bowen's, and he, almost alone among his colleagues, 
 always saw clearly that economically the arrangement was 
 not a contribution by the house-master, but a tax upon the 
 parents of the other boys ; and that therefore the limits to 
 the working out of the proposal were to be found in the 
 measure of claim possessed by those parents to the house- 
 master's care and energy, and not in the willingness of the 
 latter to accept additional burdens. Later, however, he 
 found and the majority of the staff found also that in 
 practice these scholarships which were very few in number 
 and of insufficient value drew scarcely any boys to Harrow 
 who could not have come without them, and he realised 
 the importance of considerable modifications in the existing 
 method. At the present time the provision of an adequate 
 and satisfactory system of entrance scholarships is one of 
 the most important and pressing problems connected with 
 Harrow. 
 
 (3) A Conscience Clause. The masters were not all 
 of them unanimous on this point ; some desired a simple 
 provision that any boy might be withdrawn from the chapel 
 services or from religious instruction by his parents or 
 guardians on conscientious grounds ; others wanted to go 
 further, and to enable (1) the Headmaster to claim sufficient 
 assurances that a boy so withdrawn should have instruction 
 in his own religious belief, and (2) any house-master tq decline 
 to keep any such boy in his house. These two opposing 
 views had found definite expression in an earlier memo-
 
 A MEMOIE 135 
 
 randum to the Public Schools Commissioners themselves. 
 Edward Bowen, it need hardly be said, held tenaciously 
 that the conscience clause should have no such limiting 
 provisions attached to it. The School was national, and 
 should therefore be open to all creeds. He was conscious, 
 indeed, of the practical difficulties, and was keenly anxious 
 lest unrestricted admission should issue in a serious dis- 
 location of the social arrangements and characteristics of the 
 School a dislocation bad and mischievous enough in day 
 schools, almost fatal in those consisting wholly or mainly 
 of boarders ; for example, he felt that the requirements of 
 the Jewish Sabbath were such as to go far towards making 
 the admission of Jews undesirable. But he was emphatic 
 and resolute on the general principle to which, it may be 
 added, the clearest and most unequivocal expression has 
 been given in the present regulations of the School. 
 
 (4) The Status of Assistant Masters. In the memo- 
 randum to the School governors strong exception was 
 taken to the provisions upon this point. Unfortunately 
 those provisions were compulsory in view of the terms of 
 the Act of 1868 ; but they none the less seemed then, as 
 they seem now, to those most closely affected by them, to 
 be unnecessary and unjust. The passage in the memo- 
 randum which deals with the point is as follows : 
 
 We desire to call your serious attention to the insecurity which 
 the statutes admit into the position of assistant masters. Our 
 staff contains as many as twenty-five University graduates, filling 
 positions of important responsibility. The internal arrangement 
 of the several boarding-houses is, as you are aware, confided almost 
 entirely to the assistant masters in charge, and on them falls the 
 entire pecuniary risk of building or renting, as well as furnishing, 
 these houses; a risk which in some cases amounts to many 
 thousand pounds. The service has hitherto been conducted on the 
 principle of seniority, the most important posts being assigned to 
 masters of many years' service. The position has hitherto been 
 regarded as a permanent office, and a removal contingent only on 
 failure of health, inefficiency, or misconduct ; and it is in reliance 
 on this permanence that men enter on this calling as a provision 
 for life, marry, invest their fortunes in it. Under the old statutes 
 this permanence was secured, partly by the spirit (one master on
 
 136 EDWAED BO WEN 
 
 the foundation having the same tenure as the headmaster), partly 
 by a prescription which, not having been shaken by any head- 
 master, carried practically the force of law. The Act of Parlia- 
 ment, however, has assailed this prescription by destroying, 
 wherever it existed, the legal status of assistant masters, and the 
 prescription itself must follow in course of time. What then is to 
 be the future position of an assistant master ? Are his prospects, 
 so far as they depend on the school, to be placed absolutely at the 
 mercy of any future headmaster ? The latter will often be young ; 
 he may possibly be inexperienced ; but he would thus be invested 
 with a power almost without example in the English Public Service, 
 a power exceeding that of the Commander-in-Chief of the Army 
 that of the summary dismissal, on his own authority, of any 
 member of a large and educated staff, while the governing body 
 are precluded from hearing in his defence, or supporting by 
 remonstrance, an old, it may be a valued, servant. No doubt the 
 strict letter of the Act of Parliament might warrant such an 
 interpretation ; but it must not be forgotten how clearly the Act 
 lays down the principle of the responsibility of the headmaster 
 for the acts of his government to the governing body. We are 
 convinced that this responsibility ought to be impressed upon him 
 at the time of his taking so important a step as the dismissal of an 
 assistant : that the ground of it should be distinctly stated, and 
 the assistant heard in his defence. It has been suggested that 
 some such amended statute as the following might meet the case : 
 ' The assistant masters shall hold their office at the pleasure of the 
 headmaster ; but if he sees cause to dismiss any assistant master 
 of more than two years' standing, he shall state previously in 
 writing the grounds of that dismissal to the assistant master. 
 The assistant master shall have the right of laying such state- 
 ment, together with a counter-statement of his own, before the 
 governing body, and claiming their judgment on the case. The 
 headmaster shall have power at his discretion, after receiving the 
 judgment, either to recall the notice of dismissal, or to reinstate 
 the assistant master if already dismissed.' 
 
 No such amended statute was, however, adopted, and 
 the danger of injustice continued to go, and still goes, un- 
 restrained. Eugby troubles in 1873, and Eton troubles a 
 little later, brought the question once more to the front, and 
 on one of these occasions an attempt was made to obtain an 
 Act of Parliament dealing with the grievance, but the Bill 
 never reached, or at any rate never passed, a second reading. 
 Edward Bowen was, as has been seen, quite willing to
 
 A MEMOIE 137 
 
 co-operate with his colleagues in the profession in their 
 endeavours to obtain a right of appeal to the governing 
 body ; but his own view was that the best remedy was to 
 be found in a somewhat different direction, and that a dis- 
 tinct legal status should be assigned by Parliament to an 
 assistant master which could be defended in the ordinary 
 way. By this means the interference of the governors 
 in the actual management of the school would be avoided 
 an interference which was, in his opinion, undesirable, 
 it being for the governors to lay down general principles, 
 but for the headmaster to apply them. Nothing, how- 
 ever, has as yet been done, and it may perhaps be added 
 that nothing is at present likely to be done. If some scandal 
 should occur, if there should be some abuse by a head- 
 master of his absolute powers, another Bill will no doubt be 
 introduced. If it is fortunate enough on the ballot to secure 
 first or second place on a Friday, it may possibly pass 
 through the second stage in its parliamentary history ; 
 but whether it ever gets any further will almost certainly 
 depend on the Government, whose hands will already be 
 full, and who will be thinking rather of 'the massacre 
 of the innocents ' than of the adoption of other people's 
 children. 
 
 Edward Bowen's theory of teaching has already been 
 noticed in connection with his essay, ' On Teaching by means 
 of Grammar.' He felt from first to last that the burden 
 placed upon the pupil was too heavy, and that wholly in- 
 sufficient pains were taken to relieve him of the load of 
 drudgery which simply broke his back. It was in pursuance 
 of this theory that he attempted to obtain a reconsideration 
 of the difficult question of ' cribs.' Most masters are against 
 them. There is an idea that a boy's present struggles and 
 miseries somehow bring about a measure of intellectual de- 
 velopment to which otherwise he would not attain, and that 
 it is a matter of secondary importance whether he finds his 
 tasks tolerable or intolerable. It was only consistent with 
 Edward Bowen's whole reading of the duties of a teacher 
 that he should protest against such a notion. The work, he
 
 138 EDWABD BOWEN 
 
 urged, was too hard, and because too hard, too slowly got 
 through. ' Cribs ' made it at least twice as easy, and 
 doubled or trebled the pace. He saw too that the common 
 rule created a serious offence, difficult to detect, and as often 
 as not committed with impunity. He considered that under 
 the system in force boys were unnecessarily being led into 
 temptation, nor could he shut his eyes to the very painful 
 fact that a lad whose character had been seriously damaged 
 by frequent yielding to this temptation, and afterwards to 
 others for which it had been the preparation, had a just cause 
 of complaint against the masters through whose methods he 
 had been tempted in the first instance. ' Woe to that man by 
 whom the offence cometh.' After twelve years' experience he 
 gave forcible expression to his views in a memorandum which 
 he circulated privately among his colleagues, and which will 
 be read with interest, at any rate by members of the scholastic 
 profession. These views he never changed, and to some 
 extent he was able to carry them into practice on ' the 
 Modern Side,' where he allowed the Sixth Form to read 
 Tacitus with a ' crib ; ' but he never succeeded in convert- 
 ing the staff as a whole to them. The paper is dated 
 ' November 11, 1870.' 
 
 There are some considerations which seem to me to deserve to 
 be taken into account when we consider the subject of trans- 
 lations, but which I should be sorry to spend public time in 
 urging at length vivd voce ; I hope, therefore, that it will not be 
 thought presumptuous if I print and circulate them, and beg for 
 them a favourable hearing. 
 
 We ought not to shut our eyes to the fact, that, if we do not 
 allow and provide translations, we have at any rate no alternative 
 method left of dealing with the subject. We must be all, I 
 imagine, prepared to admit that punishment is quite useless. The 
 reason is not far to seek. We cannot punish with a perfectly 
 clear conscience. Not only is it impossible to be very severe with 
 a fault when the number of detections is known to bear so small a 
 proportion to that of the offences, but we are perplexed, both each 
 for himself and still more as a body, by the feeling, that while we 
 profess to regard it as an act of disobedience, it is in reteJity, and 
 is felt by all the more sensitive boys to be, an act of unfairness. 
 That the result is a capriciousness in our treatment of it which
 
 A MEMOIE 139 
 
 has no parallel in our dealings with any other crime, there 
 can be no doubt ; and if it were not for the bare chance of these 
 remarks falling into any hands for which they are not intended, 
 I could show that it is so to a startling extent. We cannot hope, 
 then, to stamp out the practice by punishment. I have no more 
 opportunities of forming a judgment than any other master, but, 
 among the hundreds of boys with whom at various times I have 
 talked on the subject, I do not remember that it ever occurred to 
 a single one to suggest that punishment was of any use. Have 
 we any hope in our own vigilance ? Experience tells us that this 
 cannot be expected. Even granting which could not be granted 
 that some twenty Form-masters would continue to take un- 
 remitting pains to defeat the translationist, we have not the time 
 or the power to do it with success, and the task is often a repulsive 
 one, from its bringing us face to face with prevarication and false- 
 hood. Something might no doubt be done by a bold attack on 
 the conscience of the boys, and an appeal to their honour. Some- 
 thing is always done by such appeals, both in this and other 
 matters. But I wish I could express how strong is the appre- 
 hension with which I, for one, regard them. Conscience and 
 honour seem to me too serious things to be staked on a losing 
 struggle. We ought surely to reflect when by such means a 
 partial attack is made on a bad custom, what a terrible risk there 
 is of a reaction which may carry away some part of the conscien- 
 tious feeling along with it ; and it is always to be remembered 
 that the more serious we make the fault, the more we increase 
 the chance of denial. Is it not better even to live under the yoke 
 of the Philistines than to take down the ark into a battle where 
 we know beforehand that the chances are against us ? 
 
 We are fairly beaten in the contest. 1 Bonn is too much for us. 
 We have had even less chance than other schools, from having rich 
 boys, and London so near. Translations swarm, and even if by 
 a great effort, and at the risks above spoken of, we could destroy 
 50 per cent, of them, in two years' time there would be just as 
 many again. 
 
 This being the case, ought we not to give up the struggle ? 
 Does it seem right to the masters that by our own act, and with 
 the aim of improving the scholarship of the cleverer scholars, we 
 should put before every boy who comes here, weak or strong, a 
 
 1 It will, however, be found later on that Edward Bowen, when at ' The 
 Grove,' was singularly successful in his warfare with these translations, and 
 that he kept his House entirely, or almost entirely, free from them.
 
 140 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 temptation to what most of them believe to be unfairness, which 
 we know that a very large number will not be able to resist ? 
 Has not a boy whose will becomes enfeebled by deceit, who is 
 led from translations to positive cheating or to falsehood, who 
 pursues for years a system of hypocrisy in work, a grave charge 
 to bring against us for having created, for his very stumbling, the 
 sin which began it all ? 
 
 This is all irrespective of the intellectual question. For 
 argument's sake it might be granted that scholarship would suffer 
 by the change ; there is a point beyond which the claims of 
 scholarship are not paramount. But it is a position which is at 
 all events open to challenge. My own opinion, which I only offer 
 as that of one out of twenty-five, is that a language is best learnt 
 by means of translations. It is far too large a question to discuss 
 here, and the opinion of those who read this is not likely to have 
 been so hastily formed that a few words would change it ; but it is 
 worth remembering that the two chief English authorities on 
 educational subjects, Ascham and Locke, both believed in the 
 system I am advocating. I am only able to offer the single 
 experience of German on the Modern Side, which is so taught. 
 Of the general result even here I cannot speak yet ; but this 
 much at all events may be said, that it is a most successful system 
 for purposes of class. It is possible to make sure that every boy 
 has learnt his lesson, to whatever extent one is prepared to en- 
 force it : every boy may be ' put on ' once or oftener ; the lesson 
 is doubled or trebled ; the construing takes less than half an hour, 
 and the other half can be given to the parsing of a special piece 
 (set beforehand) and general teaching. If a boy is ' turned,' he can 
 come and say it again out of school, and to hear a morsel here 
 and there takes about two minutes. So enhanced is the control 
 over the preparation of the work, that my one fear, if the system 
 should be established, is the power which would be given to 
 masters of an energetic turn of mind over their Forms. If it is 
 desirable to give some puzzle-work to the cleverer boys, unseen 
 pieces are a resource always ready to hand. And for the scholars, 
 it must not be forgotten that double lessons means a double dose 
 of subjunctives, every peculiarity encountered double as often, 
 and some insight into the literature into the bargain. 
 
 I really think that we might expect a large and permanent im- 
 provement in school morality, as regards fairness and trutnfulness, 
 by the reform which I am pleading. Perhaps I may be forgiven
 
 A MEMOIE 141 
 
 for saying, that at the same time I should make a point of en- 
 deavouring to avoid such temptations to fraud as (1) setting under 
 any circumstances for work out of school any book to which there 
 exists a key ; (2) allowing boys in examination under any circum- 
 stances (short of a moral certainty that they are safe) to do the 
 same work as their neighbours at the same time ; (3) exacting from 
 boys, or encouraging them to offer, normal statements that they 
 have done ' an hour's work ' at any subject ; (4) a harsh view of 
 prompting or of giving moderate help. If we could carry a few 
 such reforms as these, and remove the great stumbling-block of 
 forbidden translations I hope I am not too sanguine, but I do 
 fancy that Astraea might perhaps return again, and a boy on 
 coming here might learn, as one of his first school lessons, 
 candour and good faith. 
 
 Another contribution of value and interest to contem- 
 porary scholastic questions was made by him in the spring of 
 1872. This was an essay on the supervision of the Public 
 Schools by the Universities, published by him under the 
 title ('confessedly adopted ad invidiam'), 'The Proposed 
 Control of the Public Schools by the Universities.' l The 
 scheme, so far as it was ever formulated, had its origin in some 
 suggestions made by a committee of the annual Headmasters' 
 Conference suggestions which certainly appeared to go 
 beyond their instructions, but which excited a good deal of 
 attention, and undoubtedly met with a good deal of support. 
 It was in 1870, at the conference at Sherborne, that the 
 committee had been appointed ' to negotiate ' such is 
 Edward Bowen's account of their duties certain practical 
 arrangements with the Latin Professors at Oxford and 
 Cambridge, with the Universities themselves, with various 
 colleges, with the Government, and with other examin- 
 ing bodies.' These arrangements related to matriculation 
 examinations so far as the Universities were concerned, 
 but to leaving examinations by the Government. The 
 Committee, however, had invited the Universities ' to 
 inspect the schools and report on their efficiency, and, 
 in addition to this, to hold examinations of all boys at 
 two stages of their school career, with a view to awarding 
 
 1 The essay will be found among the Appendices.
 
 142 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 certificates of satisfactory attainments.' It was these pro- 
 posals ' originating in a manner which it is not unfair to 
 describe as "casual" which seemed to Edward Bowen to 
 amount to an attempt to place the Public Schools under the 
 ' control ' of the two Universities, and the essay is a vigor- 
 ous criticism of the scheme. It is marked by all his usual 
 breadth of view, and also by his capacity for banter and 
 sarcasm. He makes fun of the suggested inspector 
 
 With the office merely of a roaring lion, who is to go about 
 seeking some one to examine, grasping at an induction for morsels 
 of evidence, listening to a lesson here, reading an exercise there, 
 and returning to his Athens much (as I should venture to picture 
 it) with the feeling that Peisthetserus must have experienced after 
 his sojourn in the Eegion of the Birds, with the sense that he has 
 been listening for a couple of days and nights to one universal 
 gabble ! 
 
 Again, he draws an amusing picture of the go-ahead 
 master who is possessed by a desire to introduce the study of 
 Scandinavianism into his school. This imaginary innovator 
 is represented as ' finding every advantage in this study that 
 can be offered by the most devoted professor of the established 
 curriculum.' There is obscure history to be waded through. 
 There are dialects to be learnt 'which are dead as door-nails.' 
 It has no connection whatever with modern thought. All 
 this makes the supposed master an enthusiast in teaching 
 it. ' I awaken interest, I train to logical sequence, I load 
 with varied information, I exercise cultivated imagination ; 
 my pupils write verses like the Eddas, and get by heart 
 mythology like a Skald.' Now what would be the result of 
 University inspection upon this daring educational experi- 
 ment, which, however, might have a claim to a fair trial ? 
 
 A college Fellow, or it may be a country clergyman, comes 
 down to judge the teaching of the school at which I am engaged. 
 As it is not to be supposed that he will know the ancient Norse, 
 he will find it convenient to take, as a specimen, some other por- 
 tion of my work than that in the results of which I take such 
 pride ; or else he will put me aside altogether, and devote himself 
 to some non- Scandinavian class ; and all that the inquiring 
 parents are likely to know of my splendid successes is that my 
 neighbour's form are found to be good in their Greek. Or should
 
 A MEMOIE 143 
 
 it happen that the Board of Control at the Universities have 
 searched out and sent down some scholar who has devoted himself 
 to the same results as I, who comes, hears, sees, and passes a 
 judgment which is probably valueless from the absence of a stan- 
 dard of comparison much light will the public receive from the 
 assurance that my work is excellent, and ex pede Herculem the 
 school is admirably conducted, when it is notorious that among 
 my colleagues he knows nothing of A, who goes to sleep over his 
 Virgil ; B, who puts the cricketers systematically first ; or C, 
 whose class-room is a bear garden. More probable than either 
 hypothesis is the third : that the inspector will appear some day 
 provided with an array of established tests in classical scholarship, 
 and a couple of questions in Icelandic literature which he has 
 begged or stolen from Dr. Dasent ; that the report which will 
 appear of my work will run, ' Moderate success in the normal 
 subjects ; shows some curious Scandinavian energy ; ' that with a 
 sigh and a blush I shall give up my northern studies, abandon 
 Wodin and Thor, stick to the construction of the prolative and 
 quid-quod-qualitive verbs, and the light of Scandinavian learning 
 will be quenched in schools for ever ! 
 
 Such an illustration is of course almost perverse as 
 indeed it was meant to be ; and the whole essay is written 
 with a light hand. But the paper is none the less a very 
 serious and earnest advocacy of two great ideas. Of these, 
 the first was that the influence of outside inspection was to 
 cramp and harass the teachers. As for control by Oxford 
 and Cambridge, those seats of learning had better devote 
 themselves to the task of broadening their own curriculum 
 before attempting or being permitted to impose their yoke 
 upon the Public Schools. If there were to be inspection it 
 would be preferable that it should emanate from a Govern- 
 ment office ; but the existing system of education in schools 
 was too much ' on its trial ' for it to be desirable that a dead 
 hand should be brought in from any quarter to destroy 
 by its touch new efforts and experiments. Secondly, the 
 anxiety for inspection was based upon an erroneous estimate 
 of the value of mere instruction. As a matter of fact, in- 
 spection could not gauge the excellence or defects of the 
 instruction ; but even if it could, such excellence or defects 
 constituted but very indifferent evidence of the real merits 
 and success of a school. The component parts of a boy's
 
 144 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 education were manifold; and actual instruction was only 
 one of them. With this one part inspection dealt probably 
 inefficiently and unsatisfactorily ; but with the other parts it 
 could not deal. The merits of a school depended on much 
 beyond the pedagogy on the character of the traditions, the 
 general standard of intellectual interest, the discipline, the 
 personnel of the masters, the vigorous athleticism, the general 
 good ordering of the school regime, plus, of course (and here 
 comes in a touch of the characteristic banter), 'what I 
 understand to be the very cream of University distinction, the 
 proper appreciation of the sound of the Koman consonants.' 
 All, therefore, that was best and most important in connec- 
 tion with a school was beyond inspection, and yet inspection 
 was being asked for in order that a parent might have 
 some sort of guide as to the school to which his son should 
 be sent. Edward Bowen, however, though strongly adverse 
 to the proposals of the Headmasters' Committee, frankly 
 admitted that educational reforms were required. 'I am 
 not one of those ' he says towards the end of his paper 
 ' who believe that the schools can be safely left altogether to 
 themselves, or that the Universities have no duties in con- 
 nection with them.' He goes on to mention several matters 
 in which he counsels alteration. Among them are (1) the 
 establishment of ' a Council of Education, under the depart- 
 ment of the Minister of Education, charged with the duty of 
 inspecting the public schools of the country in all matters 
 that relate to finance ; ' and (2) the lowering of the age for 
 students at the Universities a change which he advocated 
 in the belief that it would mean that the number of those 
 able to avail themselves of an University education would 
 be greatly increased. 
 
 The next few years were, on the whole, years of quiet 
 service to the School and of unostentatious devotion to the 
 requirements of school-life. The question of inspection did 
 indeed remain a somewhat burning one, but Edward Bowen 
 had ' said his say,' and he made no further contribution of 
 note or importance to the discussion. Scholastic contro-
 
 A MEMOIE 145 
 
 versy at Cambridge introduced an element of excitement, but 
 they did not call out from him any essay. The question at 
 issue was the relief of candidates for an Honour Degree 
 from the necessity of passing an examination in Greek at an 
 early stage in their University career; and it was a con- 
 troversy which very gravely affected the Modern Side at 
 Harrow, where it was found that the tax which was placed 
 by the existing regulation upon the energies of those intend- 
 ing to go to Cambridge was unduly heavy. The time of 
 these pupils was wasted getting up, merely for the purposes 
 of ' the Previous Examination,' the rudiments of a subject 
 which they did not intend seriously to pursue. This reform 
 therefore at the University was anxiously awaited by Edward 
 Bowen and by all friends of ' Modern Sides.' It was 
 awaited in vain. The proposed abolition had indeed the 
 support of all the best-known headmasters in the country 
 Dr. Hornby, Dr. Butler, Dr. Bidding, Dr. Walker, Dr. Jex 
 Blake, Dr. Abbott, Mr. H. W. Eve ; while it was cordially 
 approved by such leaders of thought and educational in- 
 terests as Lord Aberdare, Matthew Arnold, Thomas Carlyle, 
 Lord Frederick Cavendish, Charles Darwin, the Kev. J. 
 Llewelyn Davies, the present Archbishop of Canterbury 
 (Dr. Temple), W. E. Forster, Lord Houghton, Lord Law- 
 rence, Professor Huxley, Professor Jebb, Dean Stanley, 
 Mr. (now Sir) George Trevelyan, and Dr. Vaughan. But, 
 influential as were these names, the movement failed. All 
 the conservatism of the country clergy was aroused in op- 
 position to it. Considerations connected with the Greek 
 Testament were introduced and pressed. It became a con- 
 test as was observed at the time between 'the Church 
 and the world,' and ' the Church ' won. On three separate 
 occasions the feeling of the graduates of the University was 
 tested. It was on the first of these that the reformers came 
 nearest to the attainment of their objects ; but though they 
 were not far from success they fell short of it, and have 
 never since made good the necessary ground. 
 
 At Harrow itself in the seventies there were no striking 
 scholastic changes. The work of the Modern Side was 
 being steadily, but very quietly, developed, without any 
 
 L
 
 146 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 special characteristics attaching to the development. The 
 success, however, of ' the Side ' was as yet not quite assured, 
 and it was during the first half of this decade that the 
 temporary decrease in numbers set in to which Edward 
 Bowen alludes in his ' Memorandum.' But the devotion and 
 perseverance of himself and his colleagues were not to be 
 without their reward, and in 1876 the tide again turned, 
 and has since then never ceased to flow. 
 
 Athletics continued to divide Edward Bowen's interests 
 with school- work; and his influence upon athleticism at 
 Harrow, though not supreme, was at any rate considerable. 
 It was, however, mainly indirect. He was very strongly of 
 opinion that any immediate interference by the masters in 
 the matter of the games was a mistake indeed, that such 
 interference was outside their proper sphere. The assent of 
 the headmaster to any change in the method or rules of a 
 game was one thing ; it was another for him or his assistants 
 to compel any alteration. Edward Bowen worked to get 
 anything which he thought desirable done by the boys them- 
 selves, and to all appearance on their own initiative. A 
 chat with the captain of the School eleven, or of a House 
 team, would be the opportunity of putting ideas into the 
 boy's head which had their due results in the course of time. 
 But direct proposals from him were rare ; still more rare was 
 any direct opposition. 
 
 He was an excellent football player, and took a regular 
 part in the game from his earliest years at Harrow to within 
 six weeks of his death. At twenty-five it was natural that 
 he should play ; that at sixty-five he should still be doing 
 so was extraordinary. But so it was : 
 
 The fields with his presence are haunted 
 
 Where daily to football he pass'd, 
 Through forty long winters undaunted, 
 
 The playmate of youth to the last. 1 
 
 When he first went as master he used to play ' forward ; ' 
 but about 1872 he took to playing 'back' the only 
 instance of caution which he ever showed in connection 
 
 1 Memorial Verses, by E. W. H.
 
 A MEMOIK 147 
 
 with athletics. He retained, however, his fleetness of foot, 
 and when he was well over forty, he was in a spurt almost, 
 if not quite, as fast as an exceptionally fast ' forward ' who 
 was at the time in the School team. He possessed also re- 
 markable powers of endurance. The debauch of football 
 which he instituted as an annual occurrence, on the first 
 day of the Christmas holidays, was something till then 
 unheard of. The game lasted from ten till four, the players 
 stopping as often as they liked, and for as long as they liked, 
 for refreshments. Edward Bowen himself played through- 
 out without intermission six hours of continuous football ! 
 He was, too, one of the inventors and lawgivers of ' Asso- 
 ciation ' football, though in later years he felt deeply the 
 degradation involved for that branch of the game by the 
 widespread betting and corruption which it was notorious 
 were frequently connected with it. He would probably have 
 opposed the substitution of either the ' Rugby ' or the ' Asso- 
 ciation ' game for that traditional at Harrow ; but his oppo- 
 sition to the introduction of the ' Association ' rules would 
 unquestionably have been especially strong, on the ground 
 of the importance of keeping the School clear of a form of 
 athleticism which was known to be steeped at times in dis- 
 honour and disgrace. 
 
 In cricket he was for many years a first-rate field ; though 
 a very unconventional bat, whose methods were not always 
 looked upon with favour. He never bowled, even in an 
 emergency. For some time he used to field ' in the country,' 
 and during that period was one of the finest ' long-legs ' ever 
 seen. In the early sixties the All England Eleven played 
 Twenty-Two of Harrow and District, and Edward Bowen's 
 work in the long-field is said to have been wonderful. Later 
 on (in the seventies) he generally kept wicket, where he was 
 extraordinarily rapid so rapid that he was sometimes ac- 
 cused of taking* the ball before it had actually passed the 
 stumps. He did not indeed claim that he had never missed 
 a catch there, but he once said in his old age that he had, to 
 the best of his recollection, never dropped one in the long- 
 field on the Harrow cricket-ground. As a judge of the game 
 he was excellent, though here also, as elsewhere, an element 
 
 1,2
 
 148 EDWAED BO WEN 
 
 of unconventionality would make its way in. He once 
 published some ' Notes on Placing the Field ' for the guidance 
 of one of the Harrow captains, 1 in which he shows complete 
 knowledge of the scientific details of the game, however 
 questionable his orthodoxy here and there. ' A bowler is 
 indispensable ; but the same can hardly be said, absolutely 
 and universally, of any other place in the field. I once 
 remember, with a good man in, and on a good ground, taking 
 away point and sending him deep extra cover-point, and it 
 answered wonderfully.' He endeavoured to get this done in 
 the course of a somewhat recent match with Eton, when 
 runs were coming freely on a wicket which was like a 
 billiard-table. ' It is quite obvious,' he said rapidly, during 
 the interval for luncheon, to an old captain of the eleven, 
 ' that we must take point off and put him down by the 
 scoring-box.' The old Harrovian, however, was disposed to 
 demur, and he seems to have been supported by other 
 authorities ; anyhow the public were deprived of an interest- 
 ing surprise. Other very characteristic notes are : ' Don't 
 have general consultations (though a quiet word or two with 
 a trusted mate doesn't hurt), unless you are really in grave 
 doubt what to do ; but remember that " falling to pieces " is 
 generally the result of want of inventiveness in the captain.' 
 ' If a catch is missed, it does no harm to suggest an excuse 
 to the miserable criminal.' ' Every one is allowed to lose 
 his temper, if he likes, when the match is well over, and 
 there is no one by.' His interest in the match at Lord's was 
 unsurpassed by that of boy or colleague. Among the most 
 delightful surroundings in which he was ever seen were his 
 luncheon parties at Lord's. He always had a small carriage in 
 some distant corner, ' far from the madding crowd,' or as far 
 as possible, where there were hurried refreshments and hurried 
 conversations over the progress of the game. Some whim- 
 sical invitation would have been sent out, such as ' Lunch, 
 low carriage, corner of Block B ; solid and serious ; will 
 you serio-solidify ? ' or ' Lunch on Friday and Saturday ; 
 
 1 Mr. Cyril Buxton, afterwards captain of the Cambridge Eleven. His 
 death in early manhood was a deep and lasting grief to Edward Bowen and to 
 a wide circle of friends.
 
 A MEMOIB 149 
 
 Solidity permeated by Punctuality, and Efficacy graced by 
 Expedition. Will you give me the pleasure of seeing you ? ' 
 and in response there would be a select gathering of masters 
 and friends and old pupils, together with some three or four 
 boys who had no one else to go to. ' Forsan et haec olim 
 meminisse juvabit.' ' the great days in the distance 
 enchanted.' His acquaintance with the precedents of the 
 match was almost unrivalled. In the ' Notes on Placing the 
 Field,' just referred to, he recalls how ' Money in the 1867 
 match with extraordinary boldness and effect took away a 
 man in order to induce a batsman to play badly.' He had 
 a collection of the scoring cards which extended over many 
 years. Indeed, his care for the issue of the annual struggle 
 was such that those two days became days of real strain, 
 in which the stress and anxiety altogether outweighed the 
 pleasure and the excitement. Some of his lines on the 
 match of 1878 which Harrow only won with difficulty by 
 the small margin of twenty runs scarcely go beyond his own 
 real mind upon the matter : 
 
 What is it ? forty, thirty more ? 
 
 You in the trousers white, 
 What did you come to Harrow for 
 
 If we lose the match to-night ? 
 If a finger's grasp, as a catch comes down, 
 
 Go a thousandth part astray 
 Heavens ! to think there are folks in town 
 
 Who talk of the game as play ! l 
 
 1 It is in connection with this match that the following story is told of 
 Mr. Eobert Grimston whose close connection with Harrow cricket will be 
 referred to later on, d propos of some beautiful memorial lines written by 
 Edward Bowen. Mr. Grimston would never go to the actual match at Lord's ; 
 the tension was as a rule more than he knew how to bear. But on this occasion 
 Harrow appeared at one time to be winning easily, and some friend telegraphed 
 the fact to him, and urged him to come up. He did so, and during the Saturday 
 afternoon was a prominent figure on one of the front seats of the Pavilion. 
 Eton, however, made an unexpected bid for victory, and scored all but twenty- 
 one of the required runs. Mr. Grimston remained in his place during the 
 critical fourth innings ; but when it was over, and the last Eton wicket had 
 fallen, he took off his well-known top-hat, wiped the perspiration from his 
 massive brow, and said, ' Well, I do think they might have spared me that 
 hour's agony.'
 
 150 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 On one occasion, the last match which Edward Bowen 
 lived to see when Harrow won by a single wicket he and 
 others endeavoured, as they went back in the train, to recall 
 exactly how the last four or five * overs ' had gone. He 
 was too exhausted to do so, and it was not until he had 
 had food that he succeeded in reconstructing in his memory 
 the details of those few decisive minutes. It was much the 
 same all through. No boy in the School took greater interest 
 in the games than he ; no lad in the eleven looked forward 
 more anxiously than he to those fateful days at Lord's. That 
 such an attitude towards athletics increased his hold upon 
 the School goes without saying ; but it was not for this 
 purpose that he thus interested himself. He cared for 
 athletics for their own sake, believed in them, desired to 
 promote them. He had no sympathy with the commonplace 
 talk about their undue supremacy ; he had no wish to see 
 them lose any of their pre-eminence. And in the seventies he 
 did not a little to develop the games in connection with the 
 younger boys, and to interest their elders in their fortunes and 
 efforts. He instituted an ' Infants' ' cricket match, for lads 
 under fifteen on January 1 of the current year. It was 
 followed by * Ponsonby's Colts,' for whom, however, the 
 limit was sixteen. At football he started the ' Torpids ' 
 which were ties between House and Hoase, but played 
 during the Easter Term by those who had not yet completed 
 two years in the School. To the winning team in this 
 latter case he invariably gave a breakfast, which consisted of 
 a large number of courses they were identical every year 
 and had always to be got through in half an hour and ended 
 with a draught of claret out of the great silver goblet which 
 had been his Declamation Prize at Cambridge. The wine 
 was duly drunk as a loving-cup, the drinker rising in his 
 place and two boys standing by him, one on each side [' to 
 prevent him being stabbed in the back ']. It might indeed 
 have been the subject of an Academy picture the famous 
 master at the head of the table, and ' the eleven small shy 
 boys, to most of whom at least he was a stranger and a 
 mystery, wondering partly what his quick speech said, still
 
 A MEMOIE 151 
 
 more what his sly humour meant,' and the drinking of the 
 loving-cup with all the old-world ceremony. 
 
 Another institution though it came rather later, a little 
 outside this particular period of his life was the ' Ones.' 
 This competition, like ' the Torpids,' came in the Easter 
 Term, and had besides its own immediate interest the 
 further advantage of doing something to enliven what is 
 usually, from the athletic point of view, an unsatisfactory 
 quarter. It consisted of a series of ties between single 
 football players, whose contests took place on small grounds 
 with wide goal-posts, and lasted no longer than five minutes. 
 All the ties were played off in an afternoon the trium- 
 phant victor receiving one or more of Caldecott's picture- 
 books, while ' defeated players might eat buns after four 
 o'clock at their own expense.' Each year usually in 'the 
 merry month' of February some brilliantly humorous 
 notice would appear on the School gates, which showed that, 
 in addition to all his other capacities, the compiler would 
 have been incomparable as editor of ' Punch.' The follow- 
 ing may serve as a sample : 
 
 THE ONES 
 THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1893 
 
 The Ones ones more ! Bush to the Field of Glory ! But first 
 pay Qd. by Tuesday evening. Football field (real field) unless 
 bad weather (real bad). 
 
 Ties given out on the ground, 2.15, amid great excitement. 
 Hair pulled out in handfuls (real hair). 
 
 40 feet by 30 ; goals 8 feet. Prizes each winner of 1st tie, 
 Qd. ; final winner, two picture-books of Caldecott. 
 
 Umpires as useful and humble as usual. Five minutes ; if 
 tie, go on till decided. Then begin again. 
 
 Then comes the Procession. 
 
 The Procession will be headed by any of the tailers. Then 
 the Band. They will march to the Bull Field (real bull). A 
 flourish of horns, and the Band will get the correct pitch. 
 
 Three Charity Eemoves. Winners of Prize Poems. Persons 
 in Love. Fishes and Mermaids. Oysters, in Upper and Lower 
 Shells.
 
 152 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 Those who have passed in Swimming (in Swimming dress). 
 If there are too few who can swim, Harrow will be made one of 
 the Sink Ports. 
 
 Several other people cheering. 
 
 Animals. The hip-hip-hippopotamus. 
 
 Dicky-birds, argent and gules. Crows. Books, cawing. The 
 captain-commandant of the caw. Should a dog come on the 
 ground, he will take out his sword, lunge, and drive it home ! 
 Probably in a Buss. 
 
 The rest of the Square will be rooted to the spot with terror. 
 They must extract their square roots, and then go home. 
 
 Music as usual ; louder if possible. Air, ' No, I do not know 
 John Peel and do not wish to.' To be followed by the Hailstone 
 Chorus (real Hailstones). Then speeches, during which the 
 company will disperse. 
 
 The result of the Ones will be announced immediately the 
 competition is over, but it will not be known in Uganda and the 
 Orange-peel River till much later. 
 
 All seats free. Children half-price. No cards. 
 
 The competition, however, was after some fifteen years 
 of existence deliberately abandoned by its originator. The 
 exhaustion involved in it was too great for the boys, short 
 as was the time allotted to each single tie; and it was 
 found that excessive fatigue sometimes deprived the best 
 and most active player of the honour and renown which 
 ought to have been his, and gave them to a lazier, and there- 
 fore less worn-out, exponent of the game. 
 
 Another example of the whimsical fun which his versa- 
 tility would introduce into school-life is to be found in an 
 examination paper which he once set upon the subject 
 of cricket. It may, perhaps, be said that it has as yet not 
 been introduced into any scholarship examination, though 
 doubtless Edward Bowen would have regarded a thorough 
 knowledge of cricket as indispensable to a creditable or 
 useful membership of the School ; and there is certainly 
 something to be said for the proposition that a lad who 
 could deal with such conundrums as these would be as 
 likely to make his way in the world as another Wjho was 
 versed in ' the doctrine of the enclitic De,' but ignorant 
 of the rules of the Marylebone Cricket Club, or of their
 
 A MEMOIE 153 
 
 possible bearing upon unheard-of situations. Here is the 
 paper : 
 
 1. A no-ball is bowled; batsman runs out, wicket-keeper 
 catches it, and stumps him. Umpire says, ' Not out it touched 
 his wrist.' Was it out ? 
 
 2. Batsman takes guard 1 yards to leg, and bats there. A 
 ball almost grazes the off stump. Is it a wide ? 
 
 3. They were just in the middle of the second run when one 
 of them was bowled out (happened in a county match). Is that 
 true? 
 
 4. Player is running, wicket-keeper gets ball. Is it out if bails 
 are dislodged (a) by earthquake, (b) by batsman's bat thrown at 
 them? 
 
 5. Very slow ball bowled; batsman runs halfway out and 
 misses it ; wicket-keeper runs to help it with his toe into wicket, 
 which it hits. Is it out (a) if his toe did help it along, (b) if it 
 didn't ? 
 
 6. Partner backs up halfway ; wicket-keeper tosses back ball ; 
 bowler puts down his own wicket by happy thought. Is it out ? 
 
 7. A, who is generally credible, says he was once bowled out 
 by a wide. Do you believe him ? 
 
 8. If two batsmen walk off simultaneously to have a drink just 
 before ' over ' is called, which is out ? 
 
 9. My partner hits high catch. I judiciously tread on bowler's 
 toes, who misses it ; then asks umpire to give me out for doing so. 
 Does he ? 
 
 10. One bail being off, may you run out a man by dislodging 
 the other ? 
 
 11. Last ball of match is a no-ball ; batsman hits it and gets 
 run out in the first run. What is scored, and was he out ? 
 
 12. Prove from Plautus (' Most.' 3. 2. 144), Horace (' A.P.' 343), 
 Juvenal (3. 213), and Cicero (' Manil.' 12. 34) that the wickets were 
 pitched, one of the field caught everything, a distinguished 
 magistrate scattered the bails, and an unparalleled number of runs 
 were made. 
 
 (M.C.G. rules must be quoted where necessary.) 
 
 Another institution which owed its existence to him, and 
 which was so peculiarly his that no endeavour has been, or 
 will be, made to carry it on, was that of tree-planting by 
 successful batsmen. The honour was bestowed upon any 
 boy on the first occasion of his making fifty in a school match ;
 
 154 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 it was bestowed only once, and under no other conditions 
 than those of a match with a foreign team. The whole 
 of one side of the ' Sixth Form ' and ' Philathletic ' grounds 
 is lined with the trees which commemorate the first fifties 
 or more made by various members of the eleven upon what 
 is at best a slow and difficult wicket. Some ceremony used 
 to be observed at the planting, which took place at the end 
 of the summer term. There was a gathering of the chief 
 cricketers, a little claret-cup was supplied, and the fortunate 
 planter was required to make a brief speech, which was 
 usually in the same terms (' I plant this tree'). Edward 
 Bowen, too, for many years gave a small silver cup for the 
 best catch ; but in this case the custom is not to be broken 
 through, one of his colleagues having stepped into his place. 
 The cup had engraven on it an open left hand suggestive 
 of a left-handed piece of work and it was always awarded 
 by the members of the eleven themselves, the only condition 
 being that they must select some definite catch, and not 
 bestow the prize for general proficiency and merit. Again, 
 indirectly but very materially, Edward Bowen helped all 
 the cricketers by the institution in 1876 of the celebrated 
 ' Cricket Bill,' which all visitors to the Harrow cricket grounds 
 on half-holidays are duly taken to see, and by means of 
 which some five hundred boys or more can be called over by 
 a single master in less than two minutes, and by two or 
 three masters in less than one. Previously the cricket used 
 to be interrupted at 3.45 P.M. Boots had to be changed and 
 all the players had to toil up the hill to answer their names 
 in the School yard in the ordinary way. The result was that 
 the interrupted games were often not resumed, or only 
 partially resumed. Now, however, the interruption does not 
 exceed five minutes or so ; while for the members of the 
 eleven, or of ' the Sixth Form game,' there is no interruption 
 at all, since they are excused attendance. The organisation is 
 of the simplest kind, and always works without a hitch. The 
 boys stand in order along the edge of the large field, divided 
 into groups of six or seven. Each group has its distinctive 
 number and its ' shepherd,' who stands a little in front of his 
 flock. The master who calls the ' Bill ' Edward Bowen
 
 A MEMOIE 155 
 
 invariably did so himself, year after year passes rapidly 
 along the line, and the 'shepherds,' giving the number of the 
 group, say either ' All here, sir ! ' or ' One absent,' ' Two 
 absent/ as the case may be. The flocks then disperse, while 
 the ' shepherds ' whose folds have not been complete go up to 
 the master, and give in the name of the missing lamb. It 
 may be added that no case of attempted dishonesty has ever 
 been known in connection with the ' shepherds,' and that even 
 a mistake through carelessness is of the rarest occurrence. 
 The success of the ' Bill ' requires of course, in this and in 
 other respects, the co-operation of the boys ; but it is to their 
 own advantage that such co-operation should be given, and 
 it has never been withheld. 
 
 In yet another form of athletics Edward Bowen continued 
 to take a prominent part. He was a very great walker. 
 His early feats in this respect have already been noticed, but 
 though he did not in these later years attempt to compete 
 with the endurance of his efforts as an undergraduate, yet 
 he did an immense amount of walking. He kept a map of 
 his tours on foot in England and Wales, of which he had 
 gone round the entire coast, as well as over a great deal of 
 the country inland. Some favourite pupil would perhaps be 
 his comrade on these occasions, or sometimes it would be a 
 small party of two or three or four that he took with him. 
 One such expedition still remains vivid in the memory of a 
 companion a boy in the School at the time. 1 It was to the 
 Botallack mine in Cornwall in the Easter holidays of 1863. 
 The very day after the visit there occurred in this mine a 
 fatal accident in which several lives were lost. The chain 
 attached to the car which had lowered Edward Bowen and 
 his youthful companions with perfect safety only twenty-four 
 hours previously suddenly snapped, and all the occupants 
 were hurled to instant death. Edward Bowen at once 
 by means of a letter to the ' Times ' endeavoured to set 
 on foot a fund ' to relieve the wives and children of those 
 strong husbands and fathers whose bodies now lie dashed to 
 pieces two hundred fathoms below the waves ; 2 and whose 
 
 1 Mr. G. Kennedy, now a Metropolitan Police Magistrate. 
 
 2 The mine runs under the sea.
 
 156 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 souls may God receive.' But the boys not infrequently 
 found these long walks extremely hard work. Possibly, as 
 in the case of the ' Ones,' the exertion involved was now and 
 then really too much for them. Edward Bowen, however, 
 had a great belief in physical strain of this kind ; he desired 
 that the boys should learn pluck and gain stamina ' youth 
 be bearer soon of hardihood ' and he was not disposed to 
 pay too much attention to weary limbs and aching feet. He 
 would always make his way as far as possible straight across 
 country. A notice ' No thoroughfare ' had for him no other 
 meaning than that there was obviously an outlet at the other 
 end ; and the amount of trespassing which he did might well 
 have startled even a hardened poacher. But to avoid ' the 
 hard high ' was a golden rule which was not lightly broken 
 through, and with the aid of a small compass he pushed 
 along over meadows and through copses and down grassy 
 paths towards his goal. It did not always prove the quickest 
 route in practice, whatever its advantages in theory that, 
 however, was a minor point. The major consideration was 
 the absence of stones and dust. Afternoon tea was a much 
 esteemed institution on these expeditions. It was usually at 
 some wayside inn, in the small shabby coffee room with its 
 few prints and cane-bottomed chairs and horsehair sofa. As 
 likely as not a worn-out lad would be stretched on the sofa, 
 at first almost too tired to eat, but gradually giving in to 
 persuasive persistence, and at last finding himself sufficiently 
 restored to take up the march again. And all the while 
 there would be the kindly, amusing, vigorous head of the 
 party, dispensing the tea (being unique in his manner of 
 doing even this), and keeping the various members bright, 
 interested, good-tempered. There is now in the writer's 
 possession a briar stick, worn down quite short, which 
 Edward Bowen often carried with him on his walks, 
 and which has round it a silver band with the names of 
 some of the places to which it had accompanied its owner. 
 The map, however to which reference has been made, 
 and which was known to many old friends and pupils 
 is missing, and in all probability will now not be found. 
 Otherwise it might have been well worth while, in view
 
 A MEMOIR 157 
 
 of its interesting and remarkable character, to have repro- 
 duced it. 
 
 These years (1872-1877) saw the birth of several of his 
 most famous songs. In 1872 came ' Forty Years On/ the 
 most celebrated of all. Later songs may contain individual 
 lines, or a single stanza, which taken separately reach even 
 a greater height than is attained by this noble piece of 
 work ; yet judged as a whole this song may justly rank as 
 the finest which he ever wrote, and it would perhaps be no 
 exaggeration to speak of it as the grandest in modern English 
 literature. It is based upon the experiences of the football 
 field, and suggests the memories of football struggles, foot- 
 ball defeats, football victories, which will linger with old 
 Harrovians forty years after their school-life has ended. It 
 has become the national anthem of Harrow, and is always 
 sung on great occasions, the boys and the Old Harrovians 
 standing for it. 
 
 Forty years on, when afar and asunder 
 
 Parted are those who are singing to-day, 
 When you look back, and forgetfully wonder 
 
 What you were like in your work and your play ; 
 
 Then, it may be, there will often come o'er you 
 
 Glimpses of notes like the catch of a song 
 
 Visions of boyhood shall float them before you, 
 
 Echoes of dreamland shall bear them along. 
 
 Follow up ! Follow up ! Follow up ! Follow up ! 
 
 Till the field ring again and again 
 With the tramp of the twenty-two men, 
 Follow up ! Follow up ! 
 
 Like so much of the best poetical workmanship, the song 
 may in part owe its shaping to the personal circumstances of 
 the author. ' Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth 
 speaketh.' Edward Bowen was writing it during the 
 summer holidays while on a tour in Switzerland. One of 
 his colleagues who was with him recalls the fact that his 
 physical activity was not quite what it had been, and that 
 he was at times rather outpaced in climbing by his junior 
 companions. The realisation of this advance in years is 
 perhaps responsible for the splendid last verse :
 
 158 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Forty years on, growing older and older, 
 
 Shorter in wind, as in memory long, 
 Feeble of foot and rheumatic of shoulder, 
 
 What will it help you that once you were strong ? 
 God give us bases to guard and beleaguer, 
 
 Games to play out, whether earnest or fun ; 
 Fights for the fearless, and goals for the eager, 
 
 Twenty, and thirty, and forty years on ! 
 Follow up ! &c. 
 
 There are two other reminiscences in connection with 
 its composition which will be of interest, at any rate to 
 those who have many a time joined in singing it. The 
 first of these is that a verse or two of it, written out specially 
 large and clear Edward Bowen's handwriting was gene- 
 rally very small and cramped was sent by its author to 
 Mr. John Farmer to be set to music, just as the latter was 
 coming away from choir practice in chapel. Mr. Farmer 
 looked at the manuscript, and turning round asked charac- 
 teristically if any one had such a thing as a piano in his 
 waistcoat pocket. It so chanced that no one had ; and an 
 adjournment was accordingly made to the neighbouring 
 rooms of one of the masters. Here Edward Bowen himself 
 gave the idea of the chorus, and in a very few minutes the 
 well-known tune, with its stateliness, its touch of deep 
 pathos, its tempestuous close, was composed. The other 
 story is this. Some exception was taken to the introduction 
 of the Divine Name into the last verse. Mr. Matthew 
 Arnold was then at Byron House in Harrow ; the matter 
 was referred to him, and he was asked to determine it. He 
 at once decided for the line as it stood, and the crowning 
 stanza was fortunately saved from serious damage, if not 
 from ruin. 
 
 No song came in 1873, but in 1874 Edward Bowen pro- 
 duced ' Giants,' which, like so much of his apparently light 
 workmanship, expressed strongly held views, while the moral 
 incentive of the song may well pass beyond the narrow by- 
 path of boy-life, for which it was originally designed, pto far 
 broader and dustier highways. Have not nations as well 
 as schools those fits of depression, those temptations to say
 
 A MEMOIE 159 
 
 that the living are worse than their forefathers, which find 
 expression mutatis mutandis in the first stanzas of this 
 School song, where the great ' giants of old ' are represented 
 as possessing unheard-of strength and vigour and prowess ? 
 
 There were wonderful giants of old, you know, 
 There were wonderful giants of old ; 
 
 They grew more mightily, all of a row, 
 Than ever was heard or told ; 
 
 All of them stood their six feet four, 
 
 And they threw to a hundred yards or more, 
 
 And never were lame, or stiff, or sore ; 
 
 And we, compared with the days of yore, 
 Are cast in a pigmy mould. 
 For all of we, 
 Whoever we be, 
 
 Come short of the giants of old, you see. 
 
 And have there not been generations such as our own 
 at the opening of this twentieth century which have felt 
 themselves devoid of the greatness of the past, and have 
 in their self-depreciation given way more or less to despon- 
 dency, and needed the healthy, invigorating corrective which 
 is administered to all laudatores temporis acti in the last 
 verse of this merry song for boys ? 
 
 But I think all this is a lie, you know, 
 
 I think all this is a lie ; 
 For the hero-race may come and go, 
 
 But it doesn't exactly die ! 
 For the match we lose and win it again, 
 And a Balliol comes to us now and then, 
 And if we are dwarfing in bat and pen, 
 Down to the last of the Harrow men, 
 
 We will know the reason why ! 
 For all of we, 
 Whoever we be, 
 Come up to the giants of old, you see. 
 
 The next year, 1875, saw the issue of two songs. One 
 of them was a rollicking ditty descriptive of the interview 
 between ' Good Queen Bess ' and John Lyon, in the presence 
 of ' the bold sea rover,' with regard to the charter of Harrow
 
 160 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 School ; the other was a most beautiful piece of work in 
 which the ' fairy thoughts ' and the ' fairy voices ' and ' the 
 fairy people ' are represented as coming from far and near, 
 and circling round the School and its life. It would be im- 
 possible to speak too highly of the exquisite daintiness, the 
 delicious delicacy, the unbroken beauty of this latter song 
 too dainty, too delicate, too beautiful ever to be estimated 
 by ordinary lads at its real worth, but to anyone capable of 
 appreciating literary merit conclusive evidence as to the 
 writer's remarkable poetic gifts. The last verse, like the last 
 verse in ' Forty Years On,' seems to bear its quiet testimony 
 to the author's sense that he himself was advancing in years. 
 Must the circumstance mean that the ties of sympathy which 
 bound him to boy-life would to some extent be relaxed ? 
 The answer is found in the reflection that the spirit of man 
 need not grow old with his body, and that the ears of the 
 soul may always remain open to the magic whispers of the 
 'fairies.' The whole song, unsurpassed in pure charm and 
 gracefulness by anything which came from his pen, will be 
 found towards the close of this volume, but the first and last 
 verses may also be given here : 
 
 When in the morning cold and bleak, 
 
 In spite of wind and weather, 
 The wise and foolish, strong and weak, 
 
 Throng up to School together, 
 From off the plain, from round the hill, 
 
 The fairy thoughts arisen 
 Begin the day of work and play 
 
 With hope, and whim, and vision : 
 Awake the old, suggest the new, 
 
 Heart after heart rejoices 
 Ho ho ! ha ha ! Tra la la la ! 
 
 So sound the fairy voices. 
 
 O'er twenty leagues of morning dew, 
 
 Across the cheery breezes, 
 Can fairies fail to whisper true 
 
 What youth and fancy pleases ? i 
 
 As strength decays with after days, 
 
 And eyes have ceased to glisten,
 
 A MEMOIE 161 
 
 Those souls alone not older grown 
 
 Will have the ears to listen. 
 Keep youth a guest of heart and breast, 
 
 And though the hair be whiter, 
 Ho ho ! ha ha ! Tra la la la ! 
 
 You hear them all the brighter ! 
 
 In 1876 he published a song of another description a 
 great favourite, but much inferior in literary qualities to its 
 immediate predecessor. This was ' Jack and Joe.' ' Jack ' 
 represents scholarship ; his food often consists of grammars 
 and lexicons, and he drives the Oxford examiners in head- 
 long rout. ' Joe,' however, is the athlete, whose batting 
 turns the hairs of the professional bowlers gray, and who 
 ' goes with a bat to bed.' The zeal of each is unbounded 
 ' Jack's ' for his books, ' Joe's ' for his games : 
 
 Morning wakes with a rousing spell, 
 
 Bees and honey and hive, 
 Drones get up at the warning bell, 
 
 But Jack was at work at five. 
 Sinks the day on the weary hill, 
 
 Cricketers homeward flow ; 
 All climb up in the twilight chill, 
 
 But the last to leave is Joe. 
 
 But Joe is a regular fool, says Jack, 
 And Jack is a fool, says Joe. 
 
 The song ends with the suggestion that their apparently 
 hopeless quarrel is after all a matter for compromise ; 
 grammars and bats, brains and sinews, should go together. 
 A happy blend of their qualities will insure for each the 
 highest success in after-life ' Joe ' may become a general, 
 and ' Jack ' an ecclesiastical dignitary. 
 
 Next year came two more songs. The first of these 
 has for its heroine a certain fair ' Shepherdess,' resident 
 ' many a year ago ' on the plain at the foot of the hill, with 
 whom alike ' the monitor great in Greek,' and ' the cricketing 
 captain slim and sleek,' and many another scholar besides 
 were desperately in love. But the young lady's determina- 
 tion was to have none but the winner of the Gregory 
 Scholarship the most important of the leaving scholarships 
 
 M
 
 162 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 and the blue riband of Harrow and her hand was duly 
 given to that studious and fortunate youth, far, far back in 
 the annals of school and country, when ' merry King Charles ' 
 was upon the throne, and ready to give to this and all 
 other real romance the advantage and pleasure of his pre- 
 sence and good wishes. 
 
 And if this ditty of love be true, 
 
 Many a year ago 
 (And you'll please forgive our singing it you), 
 
 Down in the plain below ; 
 was there ever so sweet a pair, 
 As both of them went a-milking there, 
 With a pail and a stool and tangled hair, 
 
 A-milking for to go ? 
 But none, she said, 
 Will I ever wed, 
 
 But the boy who gets the Gregory prize, 
 And crosses his t's and dots his i's, 
 
 Down in the plain below. 
 
 The companion song was directed against the ' sulky 
 boys ' who took no adequate interest in the School games. 
 A measure of participation in these is very properly compul- 
 sory at Harrow, as at most other schools ; but there were 
 those who, as far a&gpossible, ' stayed upon the top ' of the 
 hill, instead of racing down its slopes with their comrades 
 the greater number to the cricket or football field ; and it 
 is upon these few that the lightly administered blow, of the 
 song falls : 
 
 Jog, jog, tramp, tramp, down the hill we run, 
 When the summer games come with the summer sun ; 
 On the grass dreaming a lazy grassy dream, 
 List to the merry click, willow tapping seam ; 
 Balls ring, throats sing, to a gallant tune, 
 Cheerily, cheerily, goes the afternoon. 
 
 Down the hill, down the hill, after dinner drop, 
 Sulky boys, sulky boys, stay upon the top !
 
 A MEMOIR 163 
 
 The year 1877 brought with it what is to most the 
 somewhat unwelcome experience of a contested election in 
 connection with public elementary education. The question 
 of a School Board at Harrow had for some years past 
 largely at the instigation of the late Mr. Matthew Arnold 
 been forced to the front by Edward Bowen and other local 
 Liberals, who had combined to withdraw their subscriptions 
 from the Voluntary School, in order to secure one under 
 popular management. The tactics had at last been suc- 
 cessful, and the first School Board was being formed at 
 Harrow. Edward Bowen was one of the candidates. He 
 stood as an Anti-clericalist and (to use the modern phraseo- 
 logy) a Progressive. His short address sets out perfectly 
 clearly his views upon the leading lines of educational 
 policy : 
 
 In my opinion the parish is much indebted to the energy and 
 goodwill of those gentlemen who have managed the hitherto exist- 
 ing schools. But I have much regretted that those gentlemen 
 should have wished, from conscientious motives, to deprive the 
 parish of the advantage of having its own schools under its own 
 control. And I doubt whether those who long resisted, and who now 
 deplore the introduction of the new system, are the best persons 
 that can be found to carry it out. 
 
 Further, to avoid difficulties which have arisen in many other 
 places, I think that clerical influence ought not to be represented 
 too strongly on the new School Board. 
 
 I offer myself as a candidate who thinks that the education of 
 the people ought to be under the control of the people ; that all 
 Churches and sects should be on an equal footing ; that the 
 education of their children should be compulsory on all parents ; 
 that the scale of fees should be kept low; that the instruction 
 given should be sound and simple, and should not include, in its 
 religious portion, any creeds or doctrines to which any section of 
 the community might object. 
 
 Such views were not likely to be acceptable to the more 
 ecclesiastical or conservative section of the ratepayers, and 
 the election was hotly contested. It ended in divided 
 honours. Edward Bowen and the Vicar of Harrow were 
 both returned ; and once the election was over, there were 
 harmony and co-operation. The Board had at the outset of
 
 164 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 its life to draft its rules, and this task was entrusted to 
 Edward Bo wen, who took as his model the regulations of 
 the London School Board. He did not, however, seek re- 
 election at the expiration of the three years' term. Public 
 School duties pressed upon him, and the continuance of the 
 additional work would have been more than he could have 
 managed ; but his place was taken by a colleague, and until 
 the present year (1902) there has always been a Harrow 
 master upon the local School Board. 
 
 In 1877 too his attention was given to the consideration 
 of a somewhat important question in connection with the 
 examination of candidates for the Army and the Indian 
 Civil Service. It is not stated in the Report of the special 
 Commission which was appointed to consider the question, 
 whether the proposal to add a competition in physical 
 exercises directly emanated in the first instance from him 
 or not; but the fact would appear to be definitely esta- 
 blished by the following letter, which was published in due 
 course by the Commission, together with several others from 
 leading educationists. 1 
 
 Harrow : March 30, 1877. 
 
 My Lord and Gentlemen, 1. I request leave to bring before 
 your notice a suggestion with reference to the examinations for the 
 Army and the Civil Service of India, which appears to me to have 
 some importance and to be of a practical character. What I 
 propose is that there should be added to the present examination a 
 physical competition, in which the marks gained should be added 
 to those otherwise obtained by the candidates. 
 
 2. I should, perhaps, say, that I have had considerable experi- 
 ence of the working of the present examinations, being the master 
 in principal charge of the Modern Side at Harrow School ; and 
 that, from circumstances into which I need not enter, I have a 
 somewhat varied acquaintance not only with the practice of 
 physical exercises generally, but also with the capacity of boys 
 and young men to take part in them. 
 
 3. I cannot but think that an addition of marks for physical 
 excellence would be in itself useful and desirable ; that jt is merely 
 just that bodily gifts of strength and health should tell in the 
 
 1 This and the following letters are reprinted from the Eeport of the Com- 
 mission by leave of the Controller of H.M. Stationery Office.
 
 A MEMOIE 165 
 
 selection of an officer or an Indian administrator in some propor- 
 tion to, though no doubt in a less degree than, those results of 
 intelligence and study which are denoted by intellectual success ; 
 and that the addition would go far towards increasing the general 
 popularity of the system of competitive examinations. If carried 
 out with moderation, it would not impair the success of any of the 
 candidates most remarkable for intellectual merit, but only alter 
 the places of the lower candidates, who, as a general rule, approach 
 very nearly to one another in marks, and who might reasonably 
 be discriminated from one another by a verdict on their physical 
 accomplishments . 
 
 4. Permit me, however, to refer to one or two of the dangers 
 which it would seem most important to avoid in the intro- 
 duction of such a change as I have suggested. In the first 
 place, it would be desirable to avoid any specially professional 
 element in the qualifications demanded. This would be merely 
 following the example of the examination as conducted hitherto. 
 Just as a lad is not asked now to show himself skilled in fortifica- 
 tion, military engineering, or the Indian languages, but only to 
 give evidence of his being so qualified as to be able to approach 
 these studies with the probability of greater success than his rivals, 
 so I would have him show proficiency not in riding, shooting, or 
 the endurance of camp life, but in those physical excellencies 
 which are natural and customary among all boys and youths, and 
 which give promise of future healthy development. 
 
 5. Again, it would be right to exclude mere skill as an element 
 of success, since accident and circumstances have so large a share 
 in its production ; and to avoid exercises which would give a 
 marked advantage to candidates possessed of wealth and leisure, 
 and accustomed to a country life, over those in humbler circum- 
 stances ; and to render the competition at once simple and really 
 open to all. 
 
 6. Once more, the success of the scheme might be impaired by 
 its involving a great expenditure of time. I venture to submit 
 that in the detailed suggestions which I am about to make, this 
 danger will be minimised, if not avoided. 
 
 7. If, however, it should be urged, that all that is necessary is 
 provided at present by the medical examination of the candidate, 
 I would respectfully reply, in the first place, that this tends to 
 secure only a minimum of health and strength without giving any 
 advantage to the healthiest and strongest ; and secondly, that in 
 this, as in all examinations, a mere standard tends inevitably to 
 lower itself, and that at present the qualifications demanded are
 
 166 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 in some cases very low. Indeed, I question whether the success- 
 ful candidates for some of the examinations of which I am 
 speaking are, in point of physical qualification, any further in 
 advance of the average of boys and young men than would 
 naturally follow from the fact that a military, or an Indian, career 
 suggests itself most naturally to the vigorous rather than to the 
 weak ; and, as far as my experience goes, this difference shows 
 itself but slightly. 
 
 8. I would propose, then, that 
 
 a. Candidates should be allowed to offer themselves for a 
 
 voluntary physical examination. 
 
 (Voluntary, because the essence of the examination 
 would be to give additional advantage to those who 
 excel in physical merit, not to graduate all the candi- 
 dates who are of an average, or below the average, 
 standard.) 
 
 b. The marks gained should be added to those otherwise 
 
 obtained. 
 
 (In other words, this competition should not 
 exclude any other subject ; it would hold a position 
 like that which freehand drawing now has in most 
 of the examinations.) 
 
 c. The object should be to give an advantage to the strongest, 
 
 most active, most healthy candidates, not to those 
 specially accomplished in exercises suited to the Army 
 or to Indian life. 
 
 d. The number of marks allotted should be such as to leave to 
 
 inteUectual merit a very clear predominance. 
 
 e. The details of the marking should not be published. 
 
 (This would be necessary to prevent the vulgarising 
 of the competition, and to avoid personal rivalry.) 
 /. Marks should be given up to the maximum assigned, on 
 the understanding that mediocrity is represented by 0. 
 
 (This is in order to preclude the entrance to the 
 competition of any but those superior in physical 
 merit. The saving of time would be an important 
 result of this ; and the principle is, I venture to think, 
 the right one to adopt.) 
 
 g. Only those should be examined who have passed the pre- 
 liminary examination. 
 
 (Also for the saving of time.) 
 
 h. The maximum should be practically obtainable by the most 
 strong, healthy, and active youths, and its marks should
 
 A MEMOIE 167 
 
 be placed at about the same number as those allotted to 
 freehand drawing (1,000 in the Army Examination). 
 i. The examiners should be directed to take into consideration 
 the height, appearance, carriage, muscular development, 
 visible health, measure of chest &c. of the candidates, 
 and any other evidences of strength and activity which 
 may be easily recognised. 
 
 9. Such, my Lord and Gentlemen, are the conditions which 
 I would submit for the examination which I propose, and it would 
 be perhaps well to be content with these at the outset. But 
 I cannot deny that the competition would be more satisfactory, 
 and the strain on the discretion of the examiners less, if they 
 were empowered, as they found themselves able, to introduce 
 some specific exercises into their examination, which might be held 
 in the neighbourhood of a gymnasium and a swimming-bath. 
 There can be no doubt that a really more perfect result would be 
 obtained, if some such development as the following were added to 
 the examination. It will be remarked that it is drawn in strict 
 adherence to the principles suggested above in paragraph 4. 
 
 10. The 1,000 marks awarded to physical merit should be 
 divided into two moieties, 500 being given at the general discretion 
 of the examiners, as above recommended, and 500 in the following 
 proportion : 
 
 i. 200 marks for speed. A time race of 300 yards. Medio- 
 crity, i.e. marks, being represented by a time of 36 
 seconds. 
 
 11. 100 marks for swimming 100 yards, 50 marks being given 
 
 for ordinary, and 100 for good, swimming. 
 iii. 100 marks for high jumping ; mediocrity represented by 
 
 4 ft. 6 in. 
 
 iv. 100 marks for carrying shot. 
 
 It is obvious that the scheme just suggested would need 
 revision, after some experience had been gained of its working ; 
 but I am much mistaken if it would not be found to afford a fairly 
 satisfactory basis for the first occasion of a valuation of candidates. 
 I have only, my Lord and Gentlemen, to apologise for having 
 taken up so much space in the suggestions which I have ventured 
 to lay before you, and to recommend them to your favourable con- 
 sideration. I have &c. 
 
 (Signed) B. E. BOWEN, 
 
 Late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, 
 and Master of the Modern Side, Harrow School. 
 The Chairman and Members of the Civil Service Commission.
 
 168 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Some months after, lie sent to one of the members of 
 the Commission a letter on a point with regard to which 
 difficulties had been suggested. He writes : 
 
 Harrow : February 9, 1878. 
 
 I am much struck by your saying that hesitation is felt as 
 regards a general assignment of marks for apparent health and 
 strength. I cannot share that feeling myself. Having for many 
 years seen here a constant succession of boys engaged in school- 
 work at one moment, and in athletic exercises at another, I have 
 no doubt whatever as to the ease with which the strong and 
 healthy could be discriminated in a few minutes from the rest. 
 I have had before me to-day a class of 20 boys of about the age of 
 Woolwich or Sandhurst candidates, some of whom in fact will 
 shortly present themselves to you for examination ; and since 
 beginning to write this I have written down for each of them an 
 assigned mark, varying from to 500, with a very complete 
 certainty that I am not far wrong. A doctor could do this still 
 better. A fair result may be attained with the help of a stetho- 
 scope, a tape, and a mere glance at the figure and complexion ; 
 and there could be no objection to allowing an examiner to use 
 what additional means he liked, provided that the desired object 
 were made clear to him, and that he reported from time to time 
 on his methods. From what I know of the candidates who enter, 
 I do not think that there would be among them the smallest 
 reluctance to offer themselves for such an examination. It would 
 be of the same kind as that which is now enforced on all candi- 
 dates for the Army, though it would, no doubt, be more careful 
 and severe. 
 
 Permit me to press this view by another consideration. I 
 think that such an assignment of marks would be absolutely 
 necessary in order to correct the results of any further tests. 
 There is, after all, something accidental in (say) the ability to 
 jump well; and I should shrink from giving one-third (perhaps) 
 of the total physical marks to a candidate who might possibly, 
 however nimble, have a weak circulation, a tendency to varicose 
 veins, or a laboured breathing. Once abandon general physical 
 competition, and a lad with any of these defects (if passed by the 
 present m edical examiners, who are not very strict) might con- 
 ceivably gain the highest marks assigned for physical excellence. 
 
 Passing on to the suggested special competitions, I will say 
 that I shall be very glad if the time comes when all of them can
 
 A MEMOIE 169 
 
 be easily and profitably used for examination. But I hope I may 
 be forgiven if I venture to urge caution at the outset. It may 
 happen, and it not improbably will, until the examiners have 
 clearly proved their sternness in rejecting mediocrity, that almost 
 all the candidates who have passed the preliminary examination 
 will enter for one or more competitions. With the possible ex- 
 ception of riding, I think that all the exercises which you mention 
 may be managed either at once or ultimately ; but the practical 
 difficulties will, for the first year or two, be very great. Though I 
 have had some experience in organising such things, I invariably 
 am surprised at the time which is taken in managing them. 
 Eunning is soon over, and swimming need not take long ; but 
 jumping must involve delay, and riding still more. If 200 or 300 
 men enter for each of these, and the times have to be arranged 
 for each so as not to clash with their paper- work, it is hard to see 
 how the difficulties of the organisation can be surmounted. 
 
 But they are difficulties which will gradually diminish ; and if 
 a modest and humble beginning were made, would it not be 
 possible gradually to add fresh tests to the previous ones ? 
 Indeed, it is not clear that fresh notice would be required for 
 them, or even (unless there were choice of exercises) for the details 
 of the first proposed competition. 
 
 May I remind you, too, that the proposal will be very new to 
 the public, and popular though it will probably be in the main, it 
 may be desirable to avoid any appearance which might be thought 
 too theatrical or too striking to the imagination ? 
 
 On the whole, with deference to yourself and those gentlemen 
 who have entered on the subject, I would suggest that the special 
 part of the competition should in the first instance be limited to 
 running and carrying shot, and perhaps swimming. 
 
 I will add one or two remarks on matters of detail. 
 
 1. The total maximum of marks suggested is 1,200. May I 
 remind you that the average total of marks gained is only about 
 4,000, and that the addition proposed will be greater than it seems, 
 because a deduction is made from almost all the other subjects, 
 and none will be made from this ? 
 
 2. I would suggest that not only the examination itself, but 
 the details of its results, should be kept private. The physical 
 aggregate must be published, but the items of which it is com- 
 posed might be kept back as easily as the marks given for each 
 separate question of a paper. Do what the authorities will, there 
 will be a danger of vulgarising the competition, and privacy will 
 be one means of avoiding this.
 
 170 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 3. If running be one of the tests, it must be against time. I 
 submit that about 300 [400] yards is the best distance ; anything 
 much less is hard to judge, while a long race is open to some 
 objection in regard of the necessary training, as well as the length 
 of the performance. 
 
 4. It will be remembered that riding is taught at Sandhurst 
 to all future officers. If it be adopted for competition, it will 
 be necessary, I suppose, to borrow one of the Military Eiding 
 Schools ; but I cannot conceive that any performances in these 
 can give a very valuable criterion of really good riding. 
 
 5. Putting the shot always brings out very strong men. But 
 it is after all an exceptional gift, and many of the strongest men 
 cannot succeed at it : ought it to rank as high as other tests ? On 
 the other hand, carrying shot is, I cannot doubt, the very best 
 test for mere muscular strength that exists. 
 
 6. I am glad that you mention no gymnastic exercises. To 
 offer marks to them would be a premium not on physical ex- 
 cellence but on very special preparation. 
 
 7. If I were asked to fix a scale of marks myself, I would 
 assign 1,000 to the whole, giving 500 to general physical merit, 
 and the rest to special tests, of which running should have the 
 largest share. 
 
 I have only to add that I shall be happy to come up to London 
 at any time if it should be thought that I can be of any use 
 towards the further consideration of the subject. 
 
 Believe me, &c. 
 
 The Commission in their report unhesitatingly adopted 
 the general idea of an examination in physical exercises. 
 They did not, however, regard the proposal that marks 
 should be given for the general health and strength 
 of a candidate as free from objection; on the ground 
 that such an estimate, even when formed by medical 
 officers of experience, must be attended by an element of 
 uncertainty, which it was desirable to exclude. They 
 therefore ' recommended that competitions should be held 
 under the following six heads : (1) riding, (2) walking, 
 (3) running, (4) leaping, (5) swimming, and (6) gymnastics.' 
 These competitions, however, were to be voluntary, (and no 
 candidate was to be allowed to enter under more than 
 three heads. To a member of the Commission and to Edward
 
 A MEMOIE 171 
 
 Bowen was assigned jointly the drawing up of a detailed 
 memorandum with regard to a system of marks, and the 
 memorandum was added by the Commission to their report. 
 It is not, however, necessary to enter into its details. 
 
 In the winter of 1879 the Headmasters' Conference met 
 at Eton, and Edward Bowen sent them, in response to a 
 request which had been conveyed to him by Dr. Butler, 
 a paper on ' The Study of Modern Languages at Public 
 Schools.' It is distinctly the least interesting and least 
 successful of his educational essays ; it has not the same 
 literary brilliancy as most of his other work, nor does it 
 elucidate great principles or dwell upon cardinal theories, as, 
 for example, his paper on ' Teaching by means of Grammar.' 
 The subject, perhaps, scarcely lent, itself to any idealist 
 treatment, and Edward Bowen at the outset of his paper 
 speaks of it as ' a document which is not intended for wide 
 circulation.' Under these circumstances the essay has not 
 been included among the Appendices, though a brief account 
 of it here will not be out of place. 
 
 The writer first asks what is meant by success in teach- 
 ing? Does the successful teacher chiefly impart know- 
 ledge, or chiefly develop the mind ? Perhaps in view of the 
 different answers which such a question receives from wise 
 men, we may say that neither view is true to the exclusion 
 of the other. But, on the whole, Edward Bowen strongly 
 inclines to the opinion that success in teaching is mainly to 
 be judged, so far as it can be judged at all, by the extent to 
 which knowledge has been imparted. If this has been well 
 done, it cannot but follow that the mind has also been 
 developed, while the opposite view is open to the practical 
 objections that 'we shall never agree on what is the best 
 mental training,' and that ' the plea that the storage has 
 been scientifically executed covers clumsiness and conceals 
 failure.' As regards the success, thus estimated, to be 
 expected from teaching modern languages, it is the author 
 of the paper thinks greater than that which may be 
 looked for in connection with Classics, 
 
 which in this respect are on the whole a failure : few boys end by 
 reading a Latin author at sight, and still fewer a Greek one. Now
 
 172 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 French and German are up to a certain point easier. To write 
 good French prose, indeed, seems to me as hard as to write good 
 Latin : but in modern languages a sentence is more easily under- 
 stood ; the difficulties of order are less ; the French accidence is 
 simpler than either of the classical ones, and the German easier 
 still. Take the verbs. The verbs in /u may have the moral effect 
 of the ancient Greek tragedies; they may purify the mind by 
 means of pity and terror ; but they do not get learnt. But verbs 
 in French and German, if eight lessons will not do it, are mastered 
 at the ninth. It may fairly be hoped that, with an equal time 
 devoted to the study, the Classical standard will be largely surpassed, 
 and an equal result obtained with a less expenditure of time. The 
 last clause which I have written is not intended to be ironical, for 
 with modern languages, at any rate, small results are much better 
 than none ; the study can and generally will be continued after- 
 wards, and even a smattering has its uses. How far this con- 
 sideration applies also to Latin, and how far to Greek, and how 
 far it justifies apparent failure, is not our immediate question. 
 
 What so far as modern languages go is a reasonable 
 standard at which to aim ? As regards French, an average 
 boy, who commences at a preparatory school, and works on 
 at it in a public school till the age of eighteen, having three 
 lessons a week with some preparation required for each, 
 might fairly be expected to be able at the end to translate 
 correctly and to write easy compositions without blunders, and 
 ' a boy who begins early, works regularly, and gives four or 
 five hours a week will probably know the language well for 
 literary purposes, when he leaves school ; he will read it quite 
 easily, and will write a letter correctly.' As regards conver- 
 sational capacity it must sadly be confessed that no real 
 measure of success is to be looked for. The essayist points 
 out that conversation cannot be taught to boys in form. ' Con- 
 versation requires more than one person; each converser 
 must speak aloud ; all cannot with advantage do so to- 
 gether. While A is speaking, B is unemployed, or badly 
 employed in listening to his bad attempts.' Nor is it 
 desirable, as is sometimes suggested, that the master should 
 himself habitually talk French or German. V ( ery few 
 masters, to begin with, have enough knowledge to enable 
 them to do so ; only ' very little is wanted to make a school-
 
 A MEMOIE 173 
 
 lesson bad,' and any failure on the part of the master to 
 translate his lesson with the utmost readiness would more 
 than supply that ' very little.' And in any case : 
 
 the foreign expressions would generally not serve our turn. We 
 want the boy to apprehend quickly ; the sentiments must now be 
 delivered slowly, or he will not catch them. We want all his 
 faculties to be on the strain to follow our teaching ; half of them 
 will now be spent in translating our language. The teacher can 
 certainly fall back on conversation classes and casual talk ; but I 
 do not think that these can ever be sufficient in quantity to supply 
 the practice necessary for conversational ease. 
 
 The objection is only half got over by supposing the lesson 
 to be given by a foreigner, while there is in his case 
 the disadvantage that he will probably know English 
 imperfectly. 
 
 On the whole, then, I am inclined to be sanguine with regard 
 to the possibility of teaching French or German as a literary attain- 
 ment to boys who have (say) one-sixth or one-seventh of their time 
 to give to it, and I expect that we shall succeed in this more and 
 more. Conversationally, I cannot expect much success in large 
 schools. But conversation would not be long in coming, with 
 opportunities of practice, to any well-grounded student. We are 
 proud to think that we ourselves could talk with Professor Blackie 
 hi a month's time, if we only had the practice ; and Latin is 
 distinctly easier after half an hour. Probably a well-trained boy 
 reads French as easily as we read Latin, and can find his oppor- 
 tunities more easily. 
 
 The essay afterwards goes on to touch upon several inci- 
 dental points the greater ease with which older boys learn 
 a language than younger ones ; ' the uselessness of formal 
 grammar as a means of teaching' (a return to his old 
 theme) ; the ' golden ' value of combining French with some 
 other study, isuch as history; the use by well-advanced 
 scholars of French books as alternatives to English ones ; 
 the use of French translations of the classics ; the difficul- 
 ties in organisation caused by Swiss bonnes and German 
 governesses ; the ' unique ' value of French for educational 
 study, because of the ' clear, orderly, and perfectly traceable '
 
 174 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 character of its historical development ; the ' uphill work ' 
 of pronunciation ; the use of modern literature ; and with 
 the following passage in connection with the last point the 
 paper closes abruptly : 
 
 Practically the curious phenomenon presents itself that at 
 most schools nothing is read of more than a hundred years old in 
 German, or of less in French. It is always Schiller and Goethe, 
 Moliere and Eacine. Fortunately Schiller is as good reading as 
 one would wish, but there ought to be more editions of Goethe's 
 prose, and if possible some of Heine. The last few years, how- 
 ever, have opened a good many fresh stores. I wish Boileau were 
 more commonly read, as he is now fairly accessible ; Pope did 
 not surpass his rhythm, and hardly equalled his wit. Voltaire's 
 ' Henriade ' has parts as interesting as Eacine, which is not ex- 
 orbitant praise ; but they are not to be had in England. There 
 are happily collections of modern plays now published in both 
 languages which seem well chosen. Of Thiers I have already 
 spoken. If some essays of Sainte-Beuve existed in a form adapted 
 for school use, they would be excellent for our pupils to compare 
 with their Macaulay. I have known boys read Pascal, but it would 
 hardly do for a school book. There are plenty of editions of the 
 classical dramatists of France, and an anthology of archaic French 
 is on the point of being published by Hachette. Montesquieu 
 does not need special editions, and can be bought cheap ; but 
 probably he will not be much read. It would be an excellent 
 service if some one were to publish some portions or even the 
 whole of some of the best chroniclers say Joinville or, still better, 
 Villehardouin in the original text and an inexpensive form ; 
 there is a St. Louis to be had now, but it is modernised. Parts of 
 Guizot are to be had easily, and M6rim6e, and Villemain, as well 
 as the immortal Erckmann-Chatrian series. But prose fiction is 
 generally not so good for class reading as books of travels or 
 history. 
 
 The Easter holidays of 1880 brought Edward Bowen 
 into the closest contact with contemporary political con- 
 troversies. There had been for some time an element of 
 restlessness in his mind, and a feeling that, if the opportunity 
 came, he would exchange the work of a schoolmaster for a
 
 A MEMOIE 175 
 
 career in Parliament ; but such an opportunity had never 
 definitely offered itself. He had indeed felt after one or 
 two constituencies ; but matters had never got beyond an 
 early stage, and he had never fought a decisive contest. 
 In the spring of 1880 this experience was to be his. He 
 was chosen to contest the borough of Hertford in the 
 Liberal interest against Mr. Arthur Balfour. It was the 
 election which turned out Lord Beaconsfield, and pro- 
 nounced condemnation by an overwhelming majority upon 
 his former policy, especially in South Africa and Afghanistan. 
 With this condemnation Edward Bowen fully concurred. 
 His hatred of militarism has already been noticed, and it 
 came out strongly enough on this occasion both in his 
 address and in his speeches. ' I am,' he said in the former, 
 ' an opponent of the policy which has involved this country 
 in embarrassing foreign relations, in two unjust wars, and 
 in eight millions of debt.' In one of his speeches appa- 
 rently his first in the actual campaign he spoke with great 
 warmth, and with uncompromising severity, of the Indian 
 policy of the Conservative Government : 
 
 We are sometimes accused of using strong language ; but, with 
 regard to the Afghan war, I do not think, notwithstanding all that 
 has been said about it, that the country is even yet alive to its 
 utter shamelessness. We had on the north-east frontier of India 
 a quiet people, doing us no harm on the whole friendly to us 
 living in their mountains in the same sort of way and with the same 
 degree of independence as the Scottish people lived a hundred and 
 fifty years ago in their mountains, with the same feeling of devotion 
 to their country, and with the same hatred to foreigners. We 
 had then in those mountains a powerful protection against any 
 stranger who chose to invade us from beyond. Of course I do 
 not speak from my own knowledge alone, although I have studied 
 more than most people the principles of military science ; but I say 
 we had then a perfect frontier on the north-east of India. I can- 
 not conceive anything better than a broad river, a desert plain, 
 and an almost inaccessible mountain chain ; and if ever an army 
 of one hundred thousand Eussians had come across the Khyber 
 Pass and debouched there, the only question for them a month 
 afterwards would have been at what particular place they 
 should capitulate. An invasion of India from Afghanistan is an
 
 176 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 utter impossibility, and if we hold India for a thousand years we 
 need have no fear of a Eussian invasion from that quarter. But 
 from folly, from intrigue, or from want of something to do, the 
 Government have interfered, and we have now hills across which 
 the name of England is written in blood ; we have passes, and 
 rivers, and homesteads, all of which have been trampled down by 
 our army. ' The necessary consequences of war,' perhaps you will 
 say. But who made the war? At all events, not we citizens of 
 England. I speak with warmth upon this subject, because I am 
 convinced that the people of this country are not yet alive to the 
 folly and wickedness of this war ; and if there were nothing else 
 which made it necessary to have a contest, and to fight the battles 
 of the Liberal policy, I should say this Afghan war was quite 
 enough. 
 
 In a speech delivered as the political campaign drew to 
 its close he spoke not less strongly upon the watchword 
 ' Defence, not Defiance ' the motto alike of the Liberals 
 and of the Volunteers : 
 
 ' Defence ' is then simple enough. But what is ' Defiance ' ? 
 I call it ' Defiance ' when at a Mansion-house dinner a Prime 
 Minister 1 goes out of his way pompously to declare that England 
 can stand not one campaign only, but two campaigns, and three 
 campaigns, and that at the very moment when he had in his 
 pocket but suppressed it a friendly letter from the Emperor of 
 Eussia. I call it ' Defiance ' when patriotic songs are sung at 
 music-halls simply to stir up a warlike feeling, and for no other 
 purpose. I call it ' Defiance ' when Lord Beaconsfield speaks to 
 our Irish fellow-citizens not in the terms of ordinary argument 
 and reason, but in the terms of insult and outrage. ' Defiance ' is 
 easy enough. Any Minister in power can put together those 
 blustering words ; but if prestige, and ascendancy, and all that, 
 merely mean that we are to make ourselves as unpleasant to the 
 nations of Europe as we can, you might as well, if that is all they 
 mean, attribute prestige and ascendancy to the Colorado beetle. 
 
 In matters of domestic policy Edward Bowen kept in 
 the main to the party programme. The development of 
 National Education, the County Franchise, the reform of 
 the Game Laws so far as regards ground game, 'equal 
 rights of burial in the national graveyards ' for jNoncon- 
 
 1 The reference, of course, is to Lord Beaconsfield,
 
 A MEMOIK 177 
 
 formists and Churchmen, the improvement of the local 
 government of counties, the amendment of the law regu- 
 lating the distribution and transfer of land all these were 
 reforms to which he alluded in his address, and for which he 
 was prepared to vote. On the other hand, he declined to 
 support Local Option. ' Though sincerely eager for the 
 cause of Temperance, I am not able to support the Per- 
 missive Bill, which seems to me an unwise and misleading 
 method of dealing with the evils of drunkenness.' He says 
 nothing of Disestablishment a policy which had, it may be 
 observed, his approval in theory, although he was of opinion 
 that the time was not yet ripe for it, and that it was a mis- 
 take to force it prematurely to the front. A question put to 
 him at a meeting brought out a declaration against Home 
 Rule, and another a statement in favour of the local settle- 
 ment of the religious question in Board Schools. ' For his 
 part, he was in favour of the reading of the Bible in schools ; 
 and it was unanimously voted by the School Board of which 
 he was a member ; but he considered that it ought not to be 
 imposed upon those who were reluctant to receive it.' 
 
 The closing words of his last speech before the poll may 
 also well be quoted. They show that to him Liberalism was 
 something much more than a temporary creed upon certain 
 definite points, that it was a great tendency, a great stream 
 of resolve and effort, which was independent of the passing 
 opinions, and even the passing mistakes, of the day or hour. 
 To Edward Bowen, both before and after 1886, the Liberal 
 party was the greatest of all the national forces making for 
 righteousness, and the belief in it as such a power underlies 
 these last vigorous and inspiring words at Hertford : 
 
 I am addressing you now, gentlemen, perhaps for the last time 
 as your candidate ; I will not say how it may be as your member. 
 But as I withdraw, and leave the rest of the work to you, I feel 
 reluctant to leave you without some words of hope. There rises 
 at such moments before one's eyes the picture of what England 
 might be, with equal laws, with class privileges abolished, with 
 perfected education, with peace secured, with pauperism dimi- 
 nished, with Church quarrels set at rest. Some men here and 
 there tell me that they do not read the papers and do not think of 
 
 N
 
 178 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 politics. Are there really any who do not care for such things as 
 these and have no hope for a better future? Depend upon it, 
 those who have the largest sympathies are likely to do the 
 best work. 
 
 4 Never a sigh of passion or of pity, 
 Never a wail for weakness or for wrong,' 
 
 fails, says the poet, to find an echo in regions beyond the human 
 vision. And not only in those distant realms, but here, too, 
 generation after generation, is heard the cry of enslaved nations 
 and degraded classes, of ill-taught children and neglected homes, 
 of wives whose husbands are drunkards, of poachers entrapped and 
 decoyed into crime, of shall I say it ? of voters who may not 
 vote free ; and with it, too, there comes the cheering shout of men 
 who can help them, and who will. What then ? Are all Liberals 
 good men and all Conservatives bad ? No ; there are good and 
 bad on both sides. But I contend that in our ranks there is, and 
 has been, a more earnest spirit for dealing with such problems as 
 these a spirit which will prefer them to phantoms of delusive 
 honour and that is what I mean by being a Liberal. Gentlemen, 
 vote for me or not, as you like ; but, in Heaven's name, let each of 
 your lives be one long vote in favour of freedom and progress. 
 Then you will pass away, as we all shall, and the place will forget 
 your name, but your work will live live in the happier homes, 
 live in the developed intelligence, live in the freer life of the 
 children whom you have helped to bless. 
 
 The borough, however, was too traditionally Conservative 
 for the attack upon its political flag to have any chance of 
 success, and Mr. Balfour was returned by 564 votes to 400. 
 This was the first and last occasion upon which Edward 
 Bowen fought a contested election, but it was not the last 
 in which he came forward as a candidate. In 1883 he 
 nearly stood, it is believed, for Leeds. In 1884 he was 
 selected with the late Mr. C. A. Fyffe to contest the borough 
 of Oxford in the Liberal interest, but he did not persevere 
 with his candidature. In 1885 he was before the committee 
 of selection in connection with the Harrow division of 
 Middlesex, but Mr. Milner (now Lord Milner) was chosen 
 by the Liberals to contest the constituency. The latter 
 made a good but unsuccessful fight, and Edward Bowen 
 lost nothing by the fact that he had not been accepted as his
 
 A MEMOIR 179 
 
 party's champion beyond a certain amount of trouble and 
 expense. In 1886 came the Home Eule Bill, and from 
 that moment there was a cleavage between him and what 
 had formerly been his party. From that date he was a 
 ' Liberal Unionist,' though he never, as has now been the 
 case with the great majority of that political section, allied 
 himself with the Conservatives. He remained to the end 
 strongly anti-Tory; all his old Liberal sympathies and 
 aspirations continued, not one of them was diminished or 
 foregone. He was still, as before, a Radical and a Democrat, 
 opposed to the military spirit, feeling deeply for and with 
 the working classes, in strong sympathy with the trades 
 unions, hating clericalism, urgent for social reform. In 
 our recent troubles in South Africa he was opposed to 
 the policy of the Government, and believed the Boer war 
 to be both unnecessary and unjust. At the same time he 
 recognised that, once hostilities had gone to any length, 
 any restitution of the constitutional position of the two 
 republics was out of the question ; and he was prepared to 
 accept a generous measure of self-government as the best 
 solution possible of the political and racial difficulties, 
 brought (in his opinion) to their acutest stage through the 
 fault of the English Ministry. He disliked the recent in- 
 crease in the numbers of the Army, and almost his last 
 private intervention in political matters was an endeavour 
 to persuade the Opposition to divide ('as an Opposition') 
 against the proposals of the Secretary of State for War 
 to augment the military forces, even though the division 
 should involve them in a complete, and even disastrous, 
 defeat. But he also strongly felt the need of Army Reform 
 a smaller Army and a better one was his theory. He 
 never carried, however, his views upon the diminution of the 
 fighting material, so far as actual quantity was concerned, 
 into the question of the Navy. The size of the Navy must 
 be such that its supremacy was indisputable. To recall a 
 passage in one of his Hertford speeches a passage just 
 quoted the policy of this country must be ' Defence,' not 
 ' Defiance.' A great Navy was essential for ' Defence,' but 
 
 N 2
 
 180 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 a large Army with an ambitious or vainglorious spirit 
 pervading its ranks might easily mean ' Defiance.' 
 
 It is somewhat difficult to estimate the measure of 
 success which Edward Bo wen would have attained as a 
 member of the House of Commons. The actual circum- 
 stances of political life would have kept him from office. 
 He would have been no party to a Home Kule policy ; he 
 would not have adopted towards a Conservative Govern- 
 ment or a Government mainly Conservative any other 
 attitude than one of hostility. He would, therefore, since 
 1886, have had to stand aloof to some extent from the 
 ordinary party organisations. He fully realised this and 
 the knowledge of it certainly mitigated any sense of dis- 
 appointment which his failure to enter the parliamentary 
 arena may have caused him. But would he have been an 
 independent power in the House? To some extent, un- 
 doubtedly. A man of strong character, of exceptional 
 ability, of singularly beautiful and refined mind, and of 
 intense earnestness, can scarcely fail to make a deep mark 
 in the Commons even if those characteristics are not 
 accompanied (as in his case) by any great oratorical capacity. 
 But Edward Bowen, though he would have attracted and 
 influenced the finer minds, whether inside or outside the 
 House, was not suited to lead masses of men. He would 
 have understood them, but they would not have under- 
 stood him; and the same would have applied, though to 
 a less degree, as between him and the rank and file of 
 a parliamentary party. There would always have been a 
 somewhat indefinable element of separation or definable 
 only as the same element which separates a man of pecu- 
 liarly delicate morale and sensitive mind from those capable 
 of taking their part in the rough and tumble experiences 
 of ordinary life. Had Edward Bowen succeeded in his 
 attempt to enter Parliament, the gain to political life would 
 have been wholly incommensurate with the loss to educa- 
 tion; and there is probably not one of his friends or col- 
 leagues or pupils who will not feel that it was far, far better 
 for the extent and durability of his reputation, for the 
 value and completeness of his career, for the fullness of the
 
 A MEMOIR 181 
 
 ministry with which he 'served his generation,' that the 
 election at Hertford was lost by him and not won. 
 
 The years 1878 to 1880 brought yet more songs. The 
 first of these was a noble composition, noble in its con- 
 ception, and noble as pure literature. His theme is the 
 birth of Harrow a birth contemporaneous with more than 
 one of the greatest names in English history, whose ' glory ' 
 is for ever ' encircled ' about the School : 
 
 When Raleigh rose to fight the foes, 
 
 We sprang to work and will ; 
 When Glory gave to Drake the wave, 
 
 She gave to us the Hill. 
 The ages drift in rolling tide, 
 
 But high shall float the morn 
 Adown the stream of England's pride, 
 When Drake and we were born ! 
 For we began when he began, 
 
 Our times are one ; 
 His glory thus shall circle us 
 Till time be done. 
 
 Then comes a reference to the ' Avon's child,' reared by the 
 same winds that were the nurses of Harrow, and when 
 Shakespeare's genius woke the world, Harrow also thrilled 
 as it ' heard the music soft and wild.' The last verse may, 
 perhaps, rank as the finest eight lines which ever came from 
 Edward Bowen's pen : 
 
 Guard, guard it well, where Sidney fell, 
 
 The poet-soldier's grave ; 
 Thy life shall roll, royal soul, 
 
 In other hearts as brave. 
 While Thought to wisdom wins the gay, 
 
 While Strength upholds the free, 
 Are we the sons of yesterday 
 Or heirs of thine and thee ? 
 
 The next song was an eulogium on the generally and 
 heartily abused month of October. The months meet to
 
 182 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 choose a king, and the selection is referred to ' the lads and 
 the lasses.' The pale-faced students choose March, since 
 it is that month which brings the scholarships; the girls 
 choose the soft and delicious May ; but the lads will have 
 none but October. 
 
 October brings the cold weather down, 
 
 When the wind and the rain continue ; 
 He nerves the limbs that are lazy grown, 
 
 And braces the languid sinew ; 
 So while we have voices and lungs to cheer, 
 
 And the winter frost before us, 
 Come sing to the king of the mortal year, 
 And thunder him out in chorus ! 
 October ! October ! 
 March to the dull and sober ! 
 The suns of May for the schoolgirls' play, 
 But give to the boys October ! 
 
 In 1879 came two songs. One of them was a quaint, 
 humorous ditty on * Euclid,' and on ' the little black demon ' 
 to whom all the miseries of the youthful student of 
 ' Euclid ' are due. The only way to deal with the hob- 
 goblin is to tackle him and 'teach him respect for his 
 betters,' and to this end he must be caught and well 
 shaken and thumped. The other song was a dainty, delicate 
 little ode * June and the Scholar ' set by Mr. Farmer as a 
 graceful quartette, the only setting possible in view of its 
 fragile character. The scholar, rejoicing in the beauty of 
 summer, fears to lose the companionship of all the glow 
 and grace which come with the month of June : 
 
 O June, be a sister, and stay among the trees ! 
 
 But he is reassured, and bidden remember that the happi- 
 ness of summer was designed for him, and should be accepted 
 and enjoyed : 
 
 Never fear, 
 
 Scholar dear, . 
 
 In the morning of the year, 
 Was not all the sunny beauty made for you, made for you ?
 
 A MEMOIE 183 
 
 Take the bright shiny day, 
 Take the pleasure and the play, 
 The shade and the twilight, the dawning and the dew. 
 
 But the misgiving continues. The glory of the summer 
 sky will depart, and with it all the charm of meadow and 
 glade will go also. The voice, however, of reassurance 
 becomes stronger. The winter will follow the summer, but 
 the summer will return again, and at the last there shall be 
 summer which shall cease only with time itself : 
 
 When the rose 
 Full blows, 
 
 When the surly winter goes, 
 
 I will come with the swallows and the sun, and the sun ; 
 And the grass shall be bright 
 In the glad June light ; 
 Far and away, till the world is dead and gone. 
 
 The next year too (1880) gave birth to some beautiful 
 lines ' Good Night ' which may perhaps be spoken of as 
 the slumber song of the Harrow boy. It may be doubted 
 whether ' Hampstead Lights ' were ever before made the 
 subject of real poetry, but it is they, seen from one side of 
 the hill, which are here introduced into verses of great 
 charm : 
 
 Good night ! Ten o'clock is nearing ; 
 
 Lights from Hampstead, many, fewer, more, 
 Fainter, fuller, vanishing, appearing, 
 Flash and float a friendly greeting o'er. 
 
 It is these friendly lights which sympathise with the tasks 
 and troubles of boyhood : 
 
 Good night ! How they dart anigh thee 
 Bright glad rays for repetition known ; 
 If the task be crabbed and defy thee, 
 How they blink a sympathetic groan ! 
 Wit acuter 
 
 Guesses free and fast 
 Tyrant tutor 
 
 Placable at last 
 
 Such the blessings sparkle to the sight ; 
 Take them and answer, Good night !
 
 184 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 So too it is these ' Hampstead lights ' which make their own 
 the natural aspirations of boyhood for merriment and vigour 
 and success in games. 
 
 Luck befriend thee 
 
 From the very toss ; 
 See, they send thee 
 
 Victory across ; 
 
 Speed the ball, and animate the fight ; 
 So, till the morning, Good night ! 
 
 Once again, these distant lights are the true friends and 
 well-wishers of youth, and flash their prayers and blessings 
 upon young life, frail and weak and tempted. 
 
 Good night ! Sleep, and so may ever 
 Lights half seen across a murky lea, 
 Child of hope, and courage, and endeavour 
 Gleam a voiceless benison on thee ! 
 Youth be bearer 
 
 Soon of hardihood ; 
 Life be fairer, 
 
 Loyaller to good ; 
 
 Till the far lamps vanish into light, 
 Best in the dream-time. Good night ! 
 
 In 1882 this period of Edward Bowen's life-work was 
 brought to its close, and the third and last period com- 
 menced. ' The Grove,' a large school-house standing right 
 on the top of the hill, close to the parish church, was vacant, 
 and Edward Bowen was asked by Dr. Butler to take charge 
 of it. There was perhaps before this, and certainly after- 
 wards, a belief among the boys that he had set his heart 
 on this particular house, and had refused others in order 
 that in the course of time he might succeed to it. Never 
 was boyish tradition wider of the mark. The acceptance of 
 ' The Grove ' was wholly against his own inclinations. The 
 offer had not merely to be made, but most strongly pressed.
 
 A MEMOIE 185 
 
 Reluctant in old days to take a ' small ' house, he was still 
 more unwilling to bear the burden of the exceptionally heav}' 
 responsibilities which attached to this larger establishment. 
 He even doubted his powers and his likelihood of success. 
 But acceptance was persistently urged upon him one of his 
 colleagues speaking of it as ' a crowning service ' and he 
 most reluctantly gave way and assented to the Headmaster's 
 earnest wishes. 
 
 Three years afterwards Dr. Butler resigned, being ap- 
 pointed to the vacant Deanery of Gloucester ; and a new 
 chapter opened in the history of the School. Edward 
 Bowen lost more than one colleague by the change, for 
 another familiar figure withdrew from Harrow at the same 
 time. Mr. John Farmer was offered the post of organist 
 at Balliol College, Oxford, and feeling that the old School, 
 without the face of so cherished and so loyal a friend as 
 the retiring Headmaster, could never be the same place 
 again, accepted the proposal made to him. The consequent 
 loss to the School was almost irreparable. His peculiar 
 talents, his geniality, his love of boyhood, his sympathy 
 with every form of young life, his belief in music as a 
 great popular educator, his enthusiasm for corporate sing- 
 ing as an evidence and guarantee of good-fellowship, his 
 quaint racy humour all these had made him a personality 
 impossible to replace. Edward Bowen felt the separation 
 not a little ; and he wrote one of the most beautiful of all 
 his songs in connection with it. Its title is ' Songs,' and it 
 deals with their coming, then with their sleep in death, and 
 then with their resurrection and new life, as the presence of 
 old friends is felt, as the gladness of young voices is heard : 
 
 While 'mid the breezes 
 
 Life breathes free, 
 Ere trouble freezes 
 
 Youth's blue sea, 
 'Mid hopes attendant, 
 
 Play, work, home, 
 Surging, resplendent 
 
 So songs come !
 
 186 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Songs, where the thought was, 
 
 If aught true, 
 If tender aught was, 
 
 There hide too ; 
 Down in the chamber, 
 
 Hearts hold deep, 
 Cradled in amber 
 
 So songs sleep ! 
 
 When droops the boldest, 
 
 When hope flies, 
 When hearts are coldest, 
 
 Dead songs rise ; 
 Young voices sound still, 
 
 Bright thoughts thrive, 
 Friends press around still 
 
 So songs live ! 
 
 Enough perhaps has been said of Edward Bowen's rela- 
 tions to Dr. Butler, and this is not the occasion on which 
 to attempt any appreciation of the retiring Headmaster's 
 services to the School in which he had been educated, and 
 over which he ruled for a quarter of century with such 
 fidelity to its truest and deepest interests. Edward Bowen 
 never wrote, at any rate for publication, any estimate of his 
 famous and widely loved chief ; but it has been left to his 
 chief to write some lines upon him lines expressive of the 
 regard and affection, of the admiration both upon per- 
 sonal and professional grounds, which the senior felt for 
 his subordinate. Dr. Butler's testimony to what Edward 
 Bowen was, both in character and in capacity, had best be 
 quoted at this particular point when their long and true 
 colleagueship comes to an end rather than later, as one 
 among the other tributes from friends and associates, whose 
 voices, when all was over, joined ' to praise the memory of a 
 famous man.' 
 
 Kinloch-Rannoch, Perthshire. 
 
 My dear Bowen, My little contribution to your Memoir may 
 be made perhaps most simply in the form of a letter to yourself. 
 To be in any sense a critic of your Uncle,, my own dear friend
 
 A MEMOIE 187 
 
 of more than forty years, would be to me most distasteful, and 
 indeed impossible. 
 
 In an informal letter I may perhaps be able to note just a few 
 points in his work and character which, obvious as they are, you 
 may think worthy of record. 
 
 It will not, I hope, be treason to the right proportion of things 
 if I begin with what every one knows, his persistent devotion to 
 the games of the boys. More, probably, than any master who has 
 ever lived at Harrow, he gave his heart to their games as well as 
 to their work. 
 
 1 Mr. Bowen's Match ' was always the first of the summer 
 term. 
 
 It was he who . organised the games between the masters and 
 the boys after tea on summer evenings. 
 
 It was he who, in spite of many warnings from doctors, con- 
 tinued during the football season to play almost every day of the 
 week ; first, and that for many years, as an active runner, and 
 latterly rather as a trusted umpire to whose decision no one could 
 demur. 
 
 For racquets, the gymnasium, and the rifle corps, he cared com- 
 paratively little. They appealed less to his sense of comradeship, 
 of each man supporting his fellow, of quiet disciplined endurance, 
 of constant self-suppression on the part of the individual in 
 deference to the interests of the side as a whole. 
 
 As to the educating effect of cricket and football, he did not 
 care to preach ; but he would never have hesitated to avow, what 
 his actions for forty years proclaimed, that, in his deliberate judg- 
 ment, they were second to nothing in fostering a healthy, manly, 
 unselfish, corporate life. 
 
 He joined in them with all the instinct of a boy and a young 
 man of exceptional bodily energy ; but had this simple instinct 
 been less fresh within him, he would none the less have thrown 
 himself into the games from a clear sense of professional duty. 
 
 This side of his character, daily and yearly in evidence, added 
 greatly to his influence in all matters intellectual and moral. The 
 Shakespeare readings which for many years he arranged on 
 Saturday evenings, the lessons which he gave in School on political 
 and military history, the brilliant lectures which he occasionally 
 delivered before the whole School in the Speech-room, were all 
 weighted, as it were, by the knowledge on the part of the boys that 
 this bright, eager, fascinating man, to whom all treasures of the 
 mind were attractive and sacred, was also their tried companion 
 on the cricket ground and the football field.
 
 188 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 If we turn now to his more directly intellectual work at 
 Harrow, the Modern Side will, I suppose, be generally regarded 
 as its chief monument. In 1869 he received a virtually free hand 
 to institute this new departure in Harrow life. His keen love of 
 literature, ancient and modern, was a guarantee that the innova- 
 tion would not be revolutionary, and that no merely utilitarian 
 conception of learning would be the ideal of our Modern scholars. 
 One important point was agreed upon from the first. The 
 Modern Side must be carefully guarded from any fears or hopes 
 that it would become a 'refuge for the destitute,' the home or 
 harbour of our duller boys. 
 
 It was to start with no Fourth Forms, still less any ' Lower 
 Lower First.' Its lowest Forms were to rank with the Shells on 
 the Classical Side, and admission was to be given only after a not 
 too easy examination. Considerable pressure was put on your 
 Uncle, almost at the outset, to lower this standard, but he resolutely 
 persisted, and of course was always supported by the Headmaster. 
 The new institution soon took its place. The prestige of his name 
 and varied acquirements gave it a prestige of its own in the eyes 
 of the public at large, of preparatory schoolmasters, and, not least, 
 of the boys themselves. There were not many men to whom this 
 experiment could have been safely confided at a school like 
 Harrow ; but no critic, however conservative, or however convinced 
 of the pre-eminent value of classical culture, could look down on a 
 system of study of which a scholar like Edward Bowen was the 
 head. 
 
 Thus much, or, perhaps I should say, thus little, as to the 
 Modern Side, his own special creation. You will like to have 
 a few words from me as to his general influence as an Assistant 
 Master. 
 
 It certainly will not surprise you to hear that he was singularly 
 fresh and fertile in suggestions. The desire to make good better, 
 and better best, was with him an instinct. ' What could be done 
 to add swiftness, ease, brightness, thoroughness, honesty, to the 
 working of the School machine ? ' This was to him a constant 
 thought. 
 
 How often he would write to me suggesting improvements as 
 to prizes, punishments, use of translations, dress, diet, discipline, 
 masters' meetings, ' bills,' i.e. callings over of the boys' names on 
 holiday ! The object and tendency of such suggestions was to 
 ' break every yoke,' to minimise formalism, to encourage freedom, 
 to withdraw restrictions unless they were clearly needed. 
 
 Sometimes his proposals were gratefully accepted; but it is
 
 A MEMOIE 189 
 
 but fair to him to add that, if they were not accepted, he never 
 showed any sign of annoyance, or was less ready to make others 
 in future. 
 
 But of course, apart from all this fresh current of suggestive- 
 ness lay, in the background, the character of the man, a character 
 that no one will ever so describe as to satisfy the friends who 
 knew him. We may, if we please, apply to it such poor words as 
 'force,' 'dignity,' ' winningness,' 'versatility,' 'humour,' 'charm,' 
 but such units do not make up a whole. 
 
 Perhaps it is better to say in the fewest and simplest words 
 that we were all proud of him. As long as he was with us, we were 
 privileged to see a very beautiful sight. We saw year by year 
 his noble seriousness of purpose and his sweet tenderness of heart, 
 set off, not in any way disguised, by his quick playfulness and 
 frequent paradox. He found his happiness in habitual self-sacri- 
 fice. Always reserving a large tithe of his keenest interest for the 
 gravest public questions, political and theological, he gave him- 
 self with perfect devotion to his home, to the School as a whole, 
 to the boys in his house, and to the other masters. It may 
 safely be said that no master at a public school ever won more 
 brotherly love from his colleagues. And if we are asked as to 
 the value of such an example where "are the scales that can 
 weigh it ? 
 
 And now a few closing words as to his songs, possibly his most 
 precious, and assuredly his most enduring, contribution to the life 
 of Harrow. 
 
 Of their purely literary merits I will not presume to speak in 
 detail, contenting myself with saying that alike in motif, delicacy 
 of touch, finish of expression, mastery of metrical cadence, and 
 above all, sympathy with the ' myriad-minded ' moods of boy-life 
 at a great historic school, they are, in my judgment, genuine 
 poetry, and will take no second place among the best lyrics of this 
 order. 
 
 On such matters, however, critics, especially when they are 
 dear friends and colleagues, must always be very fallible. Where 
 I claim a more than papal infallibility is in the declaration 
 ex cathedra, front my post of Headmaster, that the songs proved 
 from the first, and never lost their spell, of quite extraordinary 
 value in promoting good fellowship among the boys and in forging 
 links of love and loyalty between the passing generations of 
 Harrow men. 
 
 And here another name and another presence force themselves 
 upon us. It is hard to believe that they too are but a memory.
 
 190 EDWARD BO WEN 
 
 Let me, however, indulge it just for a moment. To me at least it 
 is still a vision. 
 
 It was delightful to see John Farmer's face of joy and mystery 
 when he came to report that another of Bowen's songs, and yet 
 another, was either newly on the anvil or just welded and polished 
 into shape and beauty. 
 
 Sometimes, like ' Queen Elizabeth,' it was delicious nonsense, 
 in which even Mr. Gladstone could join with enthusiasm, and 
 become, as he sang it, almost a Harrow boy. Sometimes, like the 
 ' Fairies,' or ' Songs,' or ' Good Night,' or ' Yesterday,' it unsealed 
 some of the deeper fountains of human emotion, stirred, no doubt, 
 specially and illumined by the genius loci of Harrow, but happily 
 common to ' all sorts and conditions of men ' in those pure and 
 simple moods of mind and heart of which memory, rather than 
 imagination, has the key. 
 
 Never, surely, was there a happier alliance than that of Edward 
 Bowen and John Farmer. No two men could be more unlike in 
 original gifts, in education, in physical activities, in knowledge of 
 the world. But love of Harrow and of free boy-life revealed each 
 to each, and made them brothers. By a coincidence which their 
 contemporaries may love to remember, they died within a few 
 weeks of each other. No one ventured to tell Farmer, on his 
 dying bed of lingering pain, that Bowen was gone taken from us 
 in a moment, a moment of unclouded happiness. Their bodies 
 are ' buried in peace,' the one under the southern shadow of the old 
 Harrow church, not many yards from the gate of ' The Grove ; ' the 
 other at Oxford, his second English home, a few feet from the 
 grave of Jowett, who appreciated and loved him, and whose love 
 was returned with no common reverence and affection. ' Their 
 bodies are buried in peace,' but at Harrow at least it is no 
 exaggeration to say ' their name liveth for evermore.' 
 
 Always, my dear Bowen, affectionately yours, 
 
 H. MONTAGU BUTLER 
 
 '
 
 191 
 
 IV 
 
 UPON Dr. Butler's resignation in 1885, it was only to be 
 expected that among the names mentioned in connection 
 with the vacant headmastership should be that of Edward 
 Bowen. Some of his colleagues sincerely desired his election 
 and endeavoured to secure it ; but the majority shrank 
 from an appointment which would have been significant upon 
 more grounds than one. Edward Bowen was not only a 
 layman, but was believed to be now separated by a distinct 
 cleavage from the religious opinions of the clergy. He 
 had also, as has been seen, very strong political views 
 views which did not represent the educational staff at 
 Harrow as a whole and these as well militated against him. 
 His claims were, however, very strongly urged by his friends ; 
 and although he never entered upon any formal candidature 
 for the great position, he allowed his name to be seriously 
 discussed. The Governors of the School invited the staff to 
 express their opinion as to the best appointment, and a 
 meeting of the masters was held to consider their reply. 
 Edward Bowen's name was at once brought forward, and it 
 was moved that he be recommended. Eight voted in favour 
 of the proposal ; the others concurred in recommending the 
 Eev. J. E. C. Welldon, at the time Headmaster of Dulwich. 
 At the last hour an attempt was made by two or three of the 
 staff to vary the recommendation by urging the name of 
 Dr. Percival (afterwards Bishop of Hereford), but it came to 
 nothing, and ]\[r. Welldon was unanimously elected. There 
 can now be no doubt that the governing body missed two great 
 opportunities. Dr. Percival had made at Clifton a big reputa- 
 tion based upon several years of solid, untiring work. The 
 indebtedness of that school to him was very large, and his 
 selection for Harrow would have meant the appointment of
 
 192 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 a first-rate educationist, a man of strong views and resolute 
 character, but able to work pleasantly and considerately 
 with his subordinates and to secure their loyalty and regard. 
 As to the measure of loss entailed in the refusal by the 
 majority of the assistant masters to recommend Edward 
 Bowen, or in the omission of the Governors to choose him 
 on their own independent responsibility, each reader of this 
 memoir will form his own estimate. It is, however, scarcely 
 too much to say that five years afterwards, had the assistant 
 masters then had their chance over again, they would pro- 
 bably have selected him as their nominee well nigh unani- 
 mously. When in 1899 the fresh chance did at last come, 
 all question of utilising it was settled by the fact that Edward 
 Bowen was then sixty-three years of age, and himself felt that 
 it was essential that the reins of school-government should 
 be in younger hands. At the same time he never seriously 
 regretted that the fates had stood between him and a position 
 higher than that of an assistant master. He felt indeed 
 that a headmastership would have meant for him full oppor- 
 tunity to develop his own ideals and to carry into effect his 
 own reforms ; but the position had one drawback which 
 counted for much in his eyes. A headmaster can scarcely 
 be on the same level of intimacy with the boys as an assistant 
 master, and for Edward Bowen most of the pleasure and 
 happiness of educational work consisted in the closeness of 
 colleagueship with boy-life. The fact that he was never 
 Headmaster of Harrow, though deplored by others, was not 
 one of the real disappointments of his career. 
 
 The reorganisation of the school-work was a matter to 
 which the new Headmaster at once gave his attention upon 
 coming into residence. Into this Edward Bowen and some 
 of his colleagues not only threw themselves vigorously, 
 but were prepared to go a good deal further than the changes 
 actually introduced. The teaching at Harrow (as doubtless 
 at all public schools) is done partly in forms, partly in 
 divisions which are not identical with the forms, and partly 
 in pupil-rooms. The basis is the form; but for certain 
 subjects, such as French, mathematics, science, the boys are 
 re-grouped, while in a pupil-room there may only be some
 
 A MEMOIR 193 
 
 half-dozen members, or even less, of one particular form, 
 since a tutor's pupils will only number about forty in all. 
 Edward Bowen and he represented others as well as himself 
 was anxious to extend the principle of ' divisions ' as 
 against the principle of 'forms.' The latter he would have 
 kept together by the teaching of Scripture, Latin, history, 
 and literature ; but he desired to teach other subjects, in- 
 cluding Greek, in ' divisions.' By this means a fusion of the 
 Classical and Modern Sides would have been possible, and 
 such a fusion he was prepared to take into serious considera- 
 tion. The changes which were actually effected did not go 
 so far as he wished ; but there was a certain amount of very 
 careful reorganisation, and the alterations which were then 
 made have in the main been permanent. 
 
 Twenty years divide Edward Bowen's acceptance of a 
 large house from his death. During the whole of this time 
 he continued at ' The Grove/ though when the end came he 
 was probably within a few months of resigning it. The 
 house stands, as has been said, right on the summit of the 
 hill, quite close to the church, and its garden is in beauty 
 second to no spot in Harrow. As time went on, he pur- 
 chased the freehold, with a view to presenting it to the 
 School. The deed of gift was not signed by him, but upon 
 his death it was found that he had provided that his inten- 
 tions in this matter should be duly carried into effect ; and 
 ' The Grove ' is now the property of the Governors, forming 
 part of the splendid bequest which he left to them. Upon 
 taking over the House in the summer of 1882 he at once 
 threw himself into its interests and needs. All the boys' 
 part was rebuilt by him at his own expense, and in this 
 rebuilding he introduced a change which has since been 
 enforced to a great extent by the authorities throughout the 
 rest of the School. It had been the general practice to put 
 boys two together the same room being both study and 
 bedroom reserving single rooms for the few upper boys. 
 Edward Bowen introduced single rooms for all boys ; and 
 this the Governors now require in all the houses, as far 
 
 o
 
 194 EDWAED BO WEN 
 
 as space will permit. The dormitory system with separate 
 studies he made no attempt to initiate. He did not think 
 it necessary, and would probably have opposed it. In 
 another respect, too, he was the protagonist in the matter 
 of reform. Hitherto it had been usual to give boys for 
 breakfast no more than coffee or tea and slices of bread and 
 butter. The fare was obviously insufficient, and the boys 
 were in the habit of themselves supplementing it by pur- 
 chasing meat or sausages from some cook-shop and carrying 
 in the additional food with them to the meal. The practice 
 was permitted and recognised even in the best houses. 
 Edward Bowen, however, very properly stopped it, and 
 himself added meat for breakfast. This, again, is now the 
 general rule of the School. His influence was, however, 
 against luxuries, even to the comparatively small extent to 
 which they usually entered into Harrow life. His own in- 
 difference to them has already been noticed, and that indiffer- 
 ence he sought to instil into others. In other houses any 
 boy might have an arm-chair ; at ' The Grove ' nobody 
 under the dignity of a Sixth Form boy might utilise one. 
 So, too, fires were always begun later and left off earlier than 
 by the other house-masters. The rooms were small and the 
 furniture old. It was not that he regarded the pleasures 
 of life as necessarily mala per se ; on the contrary, they 
 were in his eyes good and desirable, so long as they were 
 not permitted to dominate habits or to injure character ; 
 but he despised comforts and knick-knacks himself as not 
 ministering to healthy and wholesome pleasure, and he 
 thought it better that boys should be trained and encouraged 
 to despise them, especially since he realised that they 
 brought with them an element of moral danger to young 
 life. The old pupil whose reminiscences of ' The Grove ' are 
 given a little further on * recalls how he was once blamed 
 for indulging in a practice suggestive of ' the later Komans ; ' 
 and it was as tending to ' later Romanism ' that Edward 
 Bowen discountenanced arm-chairs, early fires, warm baths, 
 and daintily furnished rooms. Freshness, vigour, ( hardihood, 
 simplicity, these were the characteristics which he sought 
 
 1 Vide pp. 204-208.
 
 5 M
 
 A MEMOIR 195 
 
 to attach to his pupils, and a soft luxurious life was, 
 he knew, not the way in which these qualities are to 
 be acquired. His own life certainly was neither soft nor 
 luxurious. His bedroom was roughly furnished ; his draw- 
 ing room was about on the level, both as to artistic develop- 
 ment and otherwise, of that of an ordinary lodging-house ; 
 while his study who shall describe it ? It must be sufficient 
 to say of it that it was carpeted with two or three pieces of 
 old carpet, not of the same pattern and hue. Wooden book- 
 cases crammed with books ran round the walls. In the 
 middle was a writing table, with a common table added at 
 each end, the whole being covered with papers of one kind 
 or another. His usual chair was a wooden one, while the 
 only arm-chair in the room was of extreme antiquity. There 
 were two or three cheap prints over or near the fireplace, 
 and there were divers articles on the mantelpiece, though 
 these latter could not have been described by the most kindly 
 of critics as ornaments ; while there were some very shabby 
 green blinds, but no curtains, to the windows. In such 
 a room as this one of the greatest educationists of the 
 nineteenth century sat and worked. If this, however, was 
 sufficient for him, it was not to be expected that he would 
 provide something altogether different for his boys. ' The 
 disciple is not above his master.' 
 
 Edward Bowen as a house-master was throughout an ex- 
 tremely strict disciplinarian. His vigilance was untiring. His 
 rules were few and simple, but they had to be obeyed. He 
 always let it be understood that he would not keep a boy 
 who would not conform to them, and he was surprisingly suc- 
 cessful in detecting breaches of them. ' Bowen,' writes an 
 old head of his House, ' had the most extraordinary way of 
 turning up unexpectedly. He always wore thick, heavy 
 boots ; the floors were all of wood ; and yet he walked so 
 noiselessly that you never heard him until he turned the 
 handle of your door.' In a paper from which quotations have 
 already been given, Edward Bowen has spoken of the master 
 as having no chance against the ' crib ; ' but at ' The Grove ' 
 the ' crib ' had no chance against the master. One evening, 
 after he had been a short while in charge, he offered to accept 
 
 o 2
 
 196 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 without punishment any translations which the owners 
 might find it difficult to conceal. The surrenders were to 
 be made before nightfall. Enough ' cribs ' to fill a wheel- 
 barrow were delivered up in response. The back of the 
 offence was thereby broken ; and these aids to the higher 
 learning were afterwards almost unknown in the House. He 
 was, too, very resolute with regard to customs. He would 
 have none of those minute, irritating regulations which 
 tradition sometimes imposes. There were the usual privi- 
 leges for the senior boys, but the nonsensical prohibitions 
 of this or that on the ground of bad form or ' swagger ' 
 were made away with, and the House was kept absolutely 
 clear of them. Nothing that the house-master disapproved 
 of was tolerated ; everything was scrupulously organised and 
 carefully watched over. It was a strictness of rule which 
 certainly fretted some boys a little ; while the ruler was not 
 always popular, and often not fully understood, though not 
 often actually''misunderstood. But his determination, with 
 his gaiety to help it, carried him through ; and as time went 
 on, and those who had been in the House became not only 
 old pupils but also fast friends, and exercised their influence 
 upon those who came after them, he succeeded in com- 
 pletely winning the boys as a whole, and in obtaining from 
 them a grateful and affectionate recognition of his wisdom 
 and earnestness and devotion. 
 
 There was, too, a trait in his character as master which 
 was not realised by those who only knew him slightly and 
 superficially, but which was seen clearly enough by friends 
 and pupils who were intimate with him, and which un- 
 doubtedly had a large measure of influence in gaining the 
 loyalty of the senior boys, and in deepening their sense of 
 duty and responsibility. He took things intensely to heart. 
 Any real trouble in the School or House was a matter of acute 
 pain and distress to him. On one occasion a lad (not in 
 his House), detected* in misconduct which necessitated his 
 withdrawal from the School, asked, in the hour of his 
 misery, to see Edward Bowen. The master <?ame from 
 the interview with great tears rolling down his cheeks. ' I 
 cannot think how he gets over things so easily,' he once 
 observed of a colleague. 'I don't know/ he said to a
 
 A MEMOIE 197 
 
 pupil on the occasion of some trouble in the House, ' what 
 I should do if that were to happen again. I believe 
 I should cut my throat.' Such a characteristic no doubt 
 meant that at times he would take, what might seem to 
 others who were less sensitive than himself, an exaggerated 
 view of some occurrence, and it undoubtedly must have 
 greatly increased for him the wear and tear of a house- 
 master's life ; on the other hand, all that was best and 
 nicest in boy-nature shrank from exciting pain of which the 
 acuteness was beyond question. 
 
 How true the House were willing to be to him in a 
 crisis, and how studious to carry out any real request which 
 he made to them, was once shown in a very striking manner. 
 Edward Bo wen was in the middle of term obliged to leave 
 Harrow for three weeks in order to undergo medical 
 treatment. It was necessary to find some colleague 
 to take charge of the House, and he asked one of the 
 junior masters to do so. Before leaving, he said a few 
 words to the House, appealing to them to be well con- 
 ducted and loyal. The result may be given in the words of 
 the locum tenens : 
 
 I shall always remember with gratitude the kindness and con- 
 sideration I received in the House, from the Sixth Form down to 
 the Fourth. I think it no slight testimony to his influence over 
 his House that, among so large a number of all ages, not one 
 showed the least inclination to give me any trouble, or to take the 
 trifling advantages that boys are apt to think it fair game to take 
 over the inexperience of an outsider. 
 
 It need not be said that Edward Bowen's interest in 
 athletics showed itself very strongly in connection with his 
 House. He played regularly with his boys, and if the 
 weather was such that either cricket or football (as the case 
 might be) was out of the question, he would organise a 
 house-walk. But he would do nothing for the gymnasium 
 or the rifle corps. Both became in later years pet aversions 
 of his. They neither of them supplied a game. The gym- 
 nasium, too, did nothing to promote corporate life, and 
 in this circumstance Edward Bowen would find a strong 
 reason for its discouragement ; while the rifle corps had 
 this further grave objection, that it was, without being
 
 198 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 really professional soldiering, provocative of the military 
 spirit. At one time there was not a single boy in his 
 House who was a member of the corps. But keen as was 
 his interest in cricket and football, eager and unfailing as 
 was his encouragement of them, ' The Grove ' was never the 
 champion house or, to use the common School expression, 
 ' cock house ' in either game. The reason is not far to 
 seek. Edward Bowen's theory that boys generally stayed 
 too late at school has already been alluded to, and it will 
 be noticed again in connection with his striking evidence 
 before ' the Bryce Commission ; ' and it was the fact that 
 he acted as far as possible upon this theory which stood 
 between ' The Grove ' and athletic supremacy. The football 
 team, for instance, was generally younger than its rivals, 
 and although its members always played a good game 
 sometimes a game distinctly beyond their physical powers 
 yet they were never able to go through a season unbeaten. 
 The same circumstance militated against the House in the 
 matter of scholastic distinctions. Edward Bowen often had 
 able and promising boys, but during the twenty years that 
 he was at ' The Grove ' he had only one head of the School. 
 The House had, it need hardly be said, several special 
 songs of its own. These were written for the annual House 
 suppers at the end of the Christmas term, and were mixed 
 in with such toasts as 'Age and Wisdom,' 'The Heroes/ 
 1 British Oratory,' ' Lobengula,' ' The Muses,' ' The Muscles,' 
 1 The Lord Chancellor.' They were not infrequently House 
 versions of the best known and most popular of the School 
 songs. For example, ' Queen Elizabeth ' had this absurd 
 sequel, in which the building of ' The Grove ' and the selec- 
 tion of red as the House colour find their explanation : 
 
 Queen Elizabeth sat once more, 
 Sceptre in hand, on Dover shore ; 
 Bound about her are fifty score 
 
 Ladies and knights of Dover. 
 Close the enemy's fleet came near ; 
 Ladies and knights, in mortal fear, . 
 
 Take the express to Windermere, 
 
 All but the bold sea rover ! 
 
 Queen Elizabeth sat once more, &c.
 
 A MEMOIR 199 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, all aglow, 
 Doubled her fist, and viewed the foe ; 
 (' Body o' me ! ' she cried also ; 
 
 ' Marry come up ! ' moreover ;) 
 Eover jumps on the castle wall, 
 Loads a gun with an iron ball : 
 Down go enemy's fleet and all, 
 
 Thanks to the bold sea rover ! 
 
 Queen Elizabeth sat once more, &c. 
 
 but joy at the great success 
 
 Fills the heart of the good Queen Bess : 
 
 Doesn't she just the hero bless, 
 Doesn't he blush, all over ! 
 
 ' Odds and boddikins ! here's a man ! 
 
 Arma virumque ! Sister Anne ! 
 
 Is it a shirt of scarlet flan- 
 nel on your breast, my rover ? ' 
 
 Queen Elizabeth sat once more, &c. 
 
 ' Send for Lyon,' she cries, ' again ; 
 Say he must build with might and main 
 Far the best of his houses ten 
 
 Just where the Foss and Grove are ; 
 All the bravest of boys shall wear 
 Shirt of red like the rover here : 
 And shall the Supper be once a year ? ' 
 ' Yes,' says the bold sea rover ! 
 
 Queen Elizabeth sat once more, &c. 
 
 Even more amusing is a song written upon the Soudan 
 campaign, in which several old pupils had been engaged. 
 This, however, has no counterpart in the School Song-book. 
 It should perhaps be added, that at the time of its com- 
 position the" Khalifa had not yet met his real fate, and 
 that therefore poetical licence upon the subject of his destiny 
 was not only permissible but obviously necessary. 
 
 THE KHALIFA, 1898 
 
 Further than the Sphinx is 
 
 Went the gallant Three, 
 (Bad the lack of drinks is, 
 
 Bad the fly and flea ;)
 
 200 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Looking out at Philae, 
 
 Berber, Atbara, 
 (Dirty, crocodily,) 
 
 For the Khalifa. 
 
 1 W came the first, he 
 
 Kode upon a Gee ; 
 
 2 S on foot was thirsty, 
 
 Thirsty too was C. 3 
 ' Boys,' they say, ' of virtue, 
 
 From The Grove we are, 
 And we come to hurt you, 
 
 Ugly Khalifa ! 
 
 ' C and S and W 
 
 (From The Grove, you know), 
 Sad indeed to trouble you, 
 
 But you've got to go. 
 For we know Macaulay, 
 
 And the Prussian War, 
 And can kick a ball a 
 
 Little, Khalifa ! ' 
 
 Not a word replied he, 
 
 But he blacker grew, 
 And, unterrified, e- 
 
 jaculated ' POOH ! 
 So they want to harm me ! 
 
 Ho ! ' he cried, and ' Ha ! 
 Go at them, my army ! ' 
 
 Said the Khalifa. 
 
 Ninety millions, black, but 
 
 Destitute of dress, 
 Charge, to sound of sackbut, 
 
 W, C, and S. 
 Few can rush as they did, 
 
 Breathing blood and war, 
 (Personally aided 
 
 By the Khalifa.) 
 
 1 F. W. W., 21st Lancers. 
 
 J 3. W. 8., Cameron Highlanders. 
 
 s Q. S. C., Gren. Guards.
 
 A MEMOIE 201 
 
 C came on, they wondered ; 
 
 8 came on, they swore ; 
 W killed a hundred 
 
 Possibly some more. 
 Camels and pavilions 
 
 Flee away afar, 
 And the ninety millions, 
 
 And the Khalifa ! 
 
 How their fame is wafted, 
 
 W, S, and C ! 
 J (0 has telegraphed it, 
 
 So it true must be !) 
 In their native island 
 
 When they safely are, 
 Came a crocodile, and 
 
 Ate the Khalifa. 
 
 Edward Bowen's religious influence upon his House 
 was that of a man who felt deeply, but who, as a rule, 
 said little ; and what he did say dealt rather with the moral, 
 than with the doctrinal, aspects of Christianity. From 
 Christianity, as commonly understood and received, he was 
 no doubt divided ; though his reticence a reticence only 
 rarely thrown off, and never in response to anything which 
 might be interpreted as mere curiosity makes it difficult to 
 measure the precise extent of this division. Faith was to 
 him loyalty to good and to ' the larger hope ' which, how- 
 ever, he throughout ' trusted ' not ' faintly,' but with whole- 
 hearted sincerity. ' True religion ' was to his mind the 
 desire to do right ; and on this interpretation of the words 
 no one was ever more truly religious. But the mystical and 
 contemplative aspects of Christianity had towards the end, 
 and for a considerable number of years before the end, no 
 attraction for him, and did not appeal to him, so far as his 
 own personal life was concerned. ' I have no desire,' he 
 once wrote, ' to be more religious than my boys.' He made, 
 therefore, comparatively little effort to teach religious dogma 
 he certainly would never have done violence to his con- 
 science over the matter and so far as he taught it at all, 
 
 1 L. C. F. 0., Correspondent, Central News.
 
 202 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 did so mainly with the view of introducing his pupils to a 
 subject, and of enabling them to appreciate the outlines of 
 some question. In connection with the preparation of boys 
 for Confirmation, he always held that the lessons given by a 
 House-master were to be regarded as supplementary to those 
 given by the Headmaster, and that as the latter was in 
 Holy Orders it was with him that the responsibility rested 
 for such purely doctrinal teaching as might be considered 
 desirable. At the same time Edward Bow r en's Confirmation 
 lessons made a very deep impression upon his boys. He 
 used the late Dean Vaughan's well-known Manual, though 
 perhaps as a guide for himself, and not as a text-book for 
 the candidates to work upon; and the pencil-marks in 
 his copy seem to show the special points upon which he 
 desired to insist an evil spirit, impatience of reproof, passion 
 and ill temper, temptation of others, luxury, disregard of the 
 poor, the dangers of amusements, the dangers of games, the 
 love of popularity, the graver vices of boyhood and manhood. 
 He used to set, too, a few questions to be answered on paper, 
 such as the following : 
 
 What does a Baptist argue ? What can be said on the other 
 side? 
 
 What is the Church, and why have one ? 
 
 What was required in Christ's time to become a Christian ? 
 
 What are the chief differences between Catholics and Protes- 
 tants ? 
 
 What two duties are there with regard to religious beliefs ? 
 
 Is irreverence wrong ? Any test ? 
 
 Will you say what you really think about swearing ? [Edward 
 Bowen regarded it himself as a somewhat serious vice.] 
 
 What is the Kingdom of Heaven ? 
 
 Ee-write according to modern ideas any parts of the Catechism 
 which seem antiquated. 
 
 Do you agree with what I said about debt ? 
 
 ' Confession : ' what do Protestants generally think about it, 
 and why? When is it right and wise? [asked in 1900]. 
 
 Try and write carefully and thoughtfully ' My duty to the 
 
 House.' 
 
 
 He had, as has been said, two or three cheap prints in 
 
 his study. One of these was that of the Zouave Trappist
 
 A MEMOIR 203 
 
 absorbed in silent meditation. He was fond of referring to 
 it in connection with his Confirmation teaching, and perhaps 
 at other times too. ' Was the Zouave right ? No, boy, 
 he was shirking. You must stay in the world and do all 
 the good you can in it.' Jean Valjean, the Bishop, and the 
 candle-sticks, were another favourite topic. * It is your soul 
 that I am buying.' He discouraged morbid reflections, 
 unsuitable for young life. ' It is not your business to think 
 about heaven and hell ; what you have to do is to make 
 other people happier in this world.' He was at all times 
 insistent upon the misleading character of common sayings. 
 ' " Money is the source of all evil : " say, " Money is the 
 source of all good." One is just as true as the other.' At all 
 times, too, he was insistent upon self-sacrifice even in the 
 smallest things. ' Never take the corner seat in a railway 
 carriage when other people are in the compartment.' ' If 
 you are going by train to play cricket, always travel third 
 class ; there may be men in the eleven to whom the differ- 
 ence in cost is of impprtance.' 
 
 An adequate summary of Edward Bowen's ideas of the 
 truly religious life is not far to seek. It was perfectly ex- 
 pressed by himself in some exquisite lines entitled ' Shemuel,' 
 which he wrote about 1869, and sent to more than one 
 friend as a Christmas carol. 1 Shemuel is a Bethlehemite 
 shepherd, unable to go with his fellows on the occasion when 
 the angelic visitants were revealed to them, since he is 
 detained by the duty of tending a guest stricken with fever. 
 His comrades return from the fields full of the vision, and 
 conscious of the advent of the Divine kingdom. He sits on 
 in the sick-chamber, ungladdened by any miraculous revela- 
 tion, but destined to be ' preferred before ' them. 
 
 Works of mercy now, as then, 
 , Hide the angel host from men ; 
 Hearts atune to earthly love 
 Miss the angel notes above ; 
 Deeds, at which the world rejoices, 
 Quench the sound of angel voices. 
 
 1 It will be found among the Appendices, p. 414.
 
 204 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 So they thought, nor deemed from whence 
 
 His celestial recompense. 
 
 Shemuel, by the fever bed, 
 
 Touched by beckoning hands that led, 
 
 Died, and saw the Uncreated ; 
 
 All his fellows lived, and waited. 
 
 Upon Edward Bowen's death, an old pupil, whose career 
 at Harrow was followed by one of much distinction at 
 Cambridge, contributed to ' The Harrovian ' (the School 
 magazine) an appreciative article upon him ' in the House,' 
 and has been good enough to allow the author of this 
 memoir to make use of it. The paper of which the 
 greater part is here given will be read with interest 
 as coming from the pen not only ' of a ready ' and gifted 
 ' writer,' but of one who was for three or four years an 
 inmate of ' The Grove,' and who was bound to Edward 
 Bowen by strong ties of affection and esteem. Mr. George 
 M. Trevelyan writes as follows : 
 
 There are indeed special reasons why some account of Bowen's 
 personality as a house-master would be (if it were obtainable) 
 necessary to complete the idea of him as a servant of Harrow and 
 as a man. For he held that intellect was only the handmaid of 
 conduct, and that conduct lay almost as much among the small 
 incidents of life as among the great. It followed that his work as 
 a Harrow master consisted largely in teaching boys by example 
 the spirit of contentedness and eagerness in which we should greet 
 all chances, competitions, and necessities ' how to take sweet and 
 bitter as sweet and bitter comes.' Of course we of his House had 
 in this respect more opportunity than others : we saw a greater 
 variety of hours and incidents, things big and little, fired by the 
 bright yet serene ray of his interest which idealised everything. 
 Unconsciously we sucked in his never spoken, ever acted doctrine ; 
 that the goodness of life consists not in the greater or less quantity 
 of pleasure or even opportunity, but in the spirit in which one 
 takes it that the proof of the pudding is not the number of 
 plums it contains, but the eating. 
 
 A typical Bowenite institution was astronomy. Every} boy in 
 his House had to attend two courses of astronomy before he left ; 
 one astronomy proper, the other the history of a war ; but in both
 
 A MEMOIR 205 
 
 cases it was always 'astronomy.' ' Each Christmas term, for one 
 evening in every week, the ' astronomers ' (roughly speaking, the 
 middle-sized boys of the house) were gathered into the sanctum 
 of the drawing-room, which was never entered by us (and seldom 
 used by him) on other occasions. As a drawing-room it was neither 
 artistically beautiful nor physically comfortable ; aestheticism and 
 luxury were equally outside Bowen's line ; but its memory is 
 far more venerable to me than gilded saloon or palace of art. 
 Bound this room we sat, the swells on the sofa, the rest of us on the 
 ancient drawing-room chairs or our own wooden chairs brought in, 
 not without clatter. If it was astronomy proper, he explained to us 
 the courses of the heavens, by aid of a little round table that was 
 the sun, a cricket ball that was the moon, putting them through 
 their various motions in the centre of the 'room ; sometimes he 
 himself actively personified the moon or some other heavenly 
 body, while we sat round, critically spectatorial. We had no 
 function but to look on, but evil waited on him who did not under- 
 stand and remember, for next night, in the solitude after prayers, 
 his light step was heard along the passages silently bearing the 
 terrible 'astronomy questions' to one room after another. We 
 were not taken out to see and identify the real stars ; that was 
 not part of the game. But the joys of astronomy in the year 
 when it was a war more than made up for the alternate year's 
 penance of astronomy proper. The Crimean war was good, but 
 the Franco-Prussian war was justly the favourite, for he had 
 followed it on foot behind the German armies ; so the clearest 
 exposition possible of the outlines of campaign and battle were 
 illuminated by personal incidents ; how he had hid the sword in 
 his umbrella at Worth ; how, when he had attempted to enter 
 France to follow the French armies, he had been refused entrance 
 at the frontier, and had revenged himself by remarking, ' Next 
 time I come into France I won't ask leave ; ' and so had gone 
 with the Germans. 
 
 1 When at the ' small ' house he once substituted anatomy for the history of a 
 war. That year to use his own expression ' astronomy was bones." Another 
 old pupil, whose memory goes back to those earlier times, writes : ' There was at 
 least one skull on the mantelpiece, and Bowen carried a skeleton hand attached 
 to his waistcoat. It was this hand, I think, which was made the starting-point 
 for a collection for the hospital. It became the right hand of " Jones," a poor 
 man who needed assistance while learning to work with his left. A collection 
 box stood on the study table with weekly bulletins of " Jones' " condition. He 
 was just righting himself when he sustained a fracture of the tibia ; then some- 
 thing else set in ; by the end of the term " Jones " had undergone every conceiv- 
 able accident, disease, and operation.'
 
 206 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 Sixth Form pupil-room was no less an institution; in the 
 summer it was out on the lawn, between the cedar and the big 
 blank wall. It was the most friendly and confidential of pupil- 
 rooms, with a thousand little institutions and jokes, very dear to 
 think of now. The lesson was classical. But during the latter 
 part of the time that I was in Sixth Form pupil-room we were all 
 either Modern Side or Classical scholars of the abortive type. 
 Shortly before there had been ' scholars of marvellous force,' but 
 he never seemed less interested in us for this decadence, but took 
 us as we were, as he took all other things. He was just as 
 interested in the Juvenal and Lucan lesson as if we had been 
 'Blayds and Merivale, Hope, Monro.' The one indispensable 
 piece of knowledge on which he insisted was the seven mouths of 
 the Nile, which we rattled off faster than the tongue could really 
 syllable the names or else we heard, ' boy, do a map of the 
 Nile in five paints, boy.' Once, for ignorance of the whereabouts 
 of the Cocytus (which I think I placed in Asia Minor), I did a 
 ' map of hell in five paints, boy.' If the lesson was ended five 
 minutes before time, there was then, of course, ample leisure to 
 run through the history of the world B.C. with the aid of a 
 diagram extemporised on the back of an envelope. 
 
 Fifth Form pupil-room had more of severity and discipline ; 
 but it too had its sacred customs, and jokes whose jest lay in the 
 gravity with which they were treated. Thus the Modern Side 
 boys were made to feel their inferior position in the world of 
 scholarship by being required to do little more at the Homer 
 lesson than to render ore ty by ' when at length,' and daXepbs 
 jrapaKolrrjc by ' blooming husband.' 
 
 To be late for dinner implied saying (or being ready to say), 
 ' Phaselus ille.' Wherever, in South Africa, America, or London, 
 you come across a man who combines extreme familiarity in that 
 yacht song of Catullus with a scarcely proportionate knowledge of 
 the rest of the classics, you may be sure he was at ' The Grove ' 
 under Bo wen. 
 
 But Bowen was most Bowen at House supper. The after- 
 dinner speech in his mouth became something rich and strange, 
 about as different from the ordinary ' on this joyful occasion ' 
 and ' gathered together as we once more are,' as ' St. Joles ' is 
 different from the ' Death of Nelson.' It was for these House 
 suppers that he wrote us those House versions of the School 
 songs. 
 
 The severity with which he enforced both School and House 
 rules arose partly from a sense of the use of discipline, partly
 
 A MEMOIE 207 
 
 from that love of institutions and idealisation of custom which in 
 him was not pedantry but poetry. 
 
 His anger was never hot, but very cold and very terrible, the 
 withdrawal of approval and of confidence. He had in him an 
 ever- welling fountain of cold indignation at wrong- doing that was 
 never dried up by our never-ceasing calls upon its resources ; it 
 was always forthcoming, of most genuine quality, terrifying the 
 hardened and grieving the repentant. He had a way of making 
 one feel that to do some things was wrong, and that wrong-doing 
 was a definite thing, and ought not to be excused as a ' mistake ' 
 or passed over in silence. 
 
 There were two particulars in which he differed from the 
 ordinary theories of house-mastering ; and to differ in theory was 
 with him to differ in practice also. In the first place he held as a 
 rule in life not merely in school life, only especially in school 
 life that luxury was bad, and that plain living stood in some 
 relation to high thinking and high acting. This theory (which 
 was not always a paradox, and now the time gives proof of it) was 
 held by Bowen unostentatiously, but most practically. He always 
 acted, he seldom expounded his theories of conduct. The only 
 lecture I ever heard him deliver on this subject of luxury can be 
 reported at full ; finding that I was in the habit of taking two hot 
 baths a week, he remarked with pathetic displeasure, ' boy, 
 that's like the later Eomans, boy.' And so at ' The Grove,' though we 
 had wherewithal to be filled, and whereon to sit down, we were not 
 allowed to revel much in soft chairs or in strong meats. Fires in 
 our rooms were only allowed late in the year ; too late we often 
 thought, and used to march into his study to petition him for 
 warmth, wrapped up in rugs and other Siberian disguises, to his 
 intense delight and amusement. But he was not ascetic, for what 
 good things he had to eat, he not only enjoyed, but idealised, as he 
 did all the other little things of life, and all his bits of pleasures. 
 Typical of this restrained but idealising attitude towards the 
 smaller pleasures, was the institution of ' glorification cake.' After 
 a house football match the eleven used to be taken into the dining- 
 room on the private side, and there regaled on coffee and an 
 immense rich round cake, which he cut up with sacrificial solemnity, 
 either as ' glorification ' or (when occasion demanded) as ' consola- 
 tion ' cake. 
 
 Secondly, he did not consider that the house, any more than 
 the school, was a fitting altar on which the individual should be 
 sacrificed. He would suffer no one, who he thought would 
 develop faster elsewhere, to stop on another year in order that
 
 208 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 ' The Grove ' might be glorified. ' The Grove ' was in consequence 
 noted for its youthfulness, and in spite of the keen interest in 
 athletics and scholarly competitions which he fostered, and the 
 very fair proportion of distinguished athletes and scholars we pro- 
 duced, we were never ' cock house.' For, according to Bowen, 
 though the master was made for the house, the house was made 
 for the boy. Boys who he considered ought for their own sakes 
 to go into a wider field of education or of activity, generally went, 
 irrespective of whether the House lost or gained. This was not 
 from want of feeling for the House ; his desire for its welfare and 
 glory was his feeling for the School in epitome ; further, he 
 himself would often have given much to keep boys to whom he 
 was strongly attached. But personal wishes never influenced a 
 decision of his life ; except sometimes in the negative, for self- 
 denial's sake, provided it could pass unnoticed and unboasted. 
 So he always acted on his principle that while it was the duty of 
 a master alike in the cause of school and of house to spend and to 
 be spent, it was his further duty to see that no boy was in any 
 way sacrificed to either house or school. 
 
 Was he a great house-master? If that question is to be 
 decided solely by the greatness of the House as a corporation, he 
 has for the reasons stated above no abnormal claim to distinction. 
 But if it is to be decided by the effect produced on individuals 
 and characters the only standard he admitted there are many 
 of different kinds, occupations, and ages, who would answer to- 
 gether, ' Yes, he was a very great house-master indeed.' 
 
 The best way to realise what Bowen was like in the House, is 
 to think what he was like in the School, or on a holiday. Those 
 who saw him in one field can imagine him in all ; those who saw 
 him in none can imagine him in none. He did not wish to be known 
 or remembered by men ; but he wished to serve and be loved by 
 many friends. Above all, thought he, to serve ; since to serve 
 was the duty to be loved, only the reward. 
 
 Another old pupil one who was both head of the House 
 and head of the School l bears the same testimony to 
 what the relationship at ' The Grove ' between boy and 
 master meant for the young immature life overshadowed by 
 that strong and resolute, but at the same time tender and 
 winning, character : 1^ 
 
 1 Mr. B. Sanders.
 
 A MEMOIR 209 
 
 There are few who were in his House that did not come away 
 the better for his influence ; and here and there you will meet with 
 men who tell you that all that is best in them they owe to 
 Edward Bowen. 
 
 In form- work throughout these twenty years Edward 
 Bowen was absolutely at the height of his reputation. His 
 idealism remained that to which he had given such vigorous 
 expression in the essay on ' Teaching by means of Grammar/ 
 published in 1867. 1 
 
 To convince boys that intellectual growth is noble, and in- 
 tellectual labour happy, that they are travelling on no purposeless 
 errand, mounting higher every step of the way, and may as truly 
 enjoy the toil that lifts them above their former selves, as they 
 enjoy a race or a climb ; to help the culture of their minds by 
 every faculty of moral force, of physical vigour, of memory, of 
 fancy, of humour, of pathos, of banter, that we have ourselves, 
 and lead them to trust in knowledge, to hope for it, to cherish it ; 
 this, succeed as it may here and fail there, quickened as it may 
 be by health and sympathy, or deadened by fatigue or disappoint- 
 ment, is a work which has in it most of the elements which life 
 needs to give it zest. 2 
 
 And his own life found this ' zest ' in teaching. Form-work 
 was to him an intense enjoyment. It was more directly 
 educational than some of the work in the house ; and it 
 was without the particular anxieties and worries which are 
 attached to a house. In 1901, when he was seriously 
 contemplating resigning, or had actually made up his mind 
 to resign, ' The Grove,' he proposed keeping on his form, 
 which consisted of the members of the Modern Upper Fifth 
 and Sixth. They were not, and never could become, any 
 sort of burden.to him, whatever the weariness of advancing 
 years. And they received throughout all that was most 
 brilliant in his nature, all that was most striking in his 
 genius as a master. His fancy, his playfulness, his fun, his 
 inventiveness, all these were given full play in his form- 
 
 1 Vide pp. 99 ff. * Vide p. 314. 
 
 P
 
 210 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 work. A colleague has written of him as an ' enchanter,' 
 and there was beyond question an element of enchantment 
 in his teaching. The drudgery of learning vanished ; the 
 dullness which often hangs like a cloud of London smoke 
 over some lesson was never experienced. With him in the 
 master's desk it became sheer delight to learn, and the form 
 learnt readily. He could always get an immense amount 
 of work out of them. It was, writes an old pupil, 
 ' mainly because the form guessed how much he worked for 
 us. When we knew that he spent large parts of the night 
 in preparing a map for us, we did not much mind some extra 
 work in producing a careful copy of it.' Of discipline there 
 was outwardly very little, and a certain amount of superficial 
 insubordination at times prevailed. But it was superficial only. 
 The whole of the fantastic fabric of form-life was built by those 
 fairy fingers on a basis of absolute discipline; and it was simply 
 because this basis was realised and respected that such a 
 fabric was possible. Edward Bowen's lightest word was, if 
 seriously meant, law ; and the fact made many light words, 
 which were not seriously meant, possible. He would always 
 allow a certain amount of joking and badinage between him 
 and the form, but there was a line which might not be 
 crossed. The boys, for example, might laugh and chat with 
 him, but they might not talk to one another ; nor did they, 
 as a rule, attempt to do so. But within bounds there was a 
 measure of something like licence which would have utterly 
 horrified old-fashioned dominies, who had not learnt to 
 ' turn human,' and which would undoubtedly have startled 
 even masters of a more modern and reasonable type. For 
 example, on one occasion at the close of first school (8.45 A.M.) 
 Edward Bowen set twenty sentences in connection with 
 German grammar. The entire form declared that the task 
 was too much, and refused to leave the room unless the 
 sentences were reduced to fifteen. The mimic struggle went 
 on for a few minutes, but at last terminated in a burst of 
 good-humoured laughter as Edward Bowen threw himself 
 back in his chair and observed that breakfast was getting 
 cold. On another occasion he had a tussle this time a 
 genuine one with two lads over some work which he
 
 A MEMOIE 211 
 
 wanted them to do, but which they declined to attempt. 
 Most masters would have laid down the law, given peremp- 
 tory instructions, and threatened. Edward Bowen brought 
 the scene to a close by quietly saying ' Please,' and the two 
 recalcitrants surrendered at once. A late boy would be 
 greeted from all sides of the room by the cabman's ' elk ' 
 ' elk ; ' such sounds are unusual, to say the least of it, in an 
 ordinary class-room, but Edward Bowen permitted them. 
 ' They were to encourage him to go faster and arrive 
 earlier.' Three times late was, however, a real offence; but 
 it was met, not by lines, arbitrarily imposed by the man in 
 authority, but by a punishment often an analysis of some 
 essay of Macaulay's agreed on between master and delin- 
 quent. Other penalties would be to go down such and 
 such a road and count the trees on one side, or to bring back 
 the name on the first shop after a given point. As Edward 
 Bowen always knew the correct answer, having noted the 
 circumstance in his own walks, guessing was out of the 
 question, and there was nothing for it but to obtain the 
 information by a voyage of personal discovery. 
 
 Let us now, with the help of more than one old pupil, 1 
 enter Edward Bowen'sForm, and watch him and his boys at 
 work there. The class-room is in the buildings on the 
 northern side of the chapel, and is in the basement. The 
 entrance is down a flight of steps. The master will be 
 there a few minutes before the Form, making certain pre- 
 parations, and as the boys come in some of them ' will at 
 once wander over to his blackboard, on which will be dis- 
 played, it may be sketches of some battle-field or of some 
 historic scene upon which he has been talking, or it may be 
 some odd curiosity, such as [during the recent South African 
 war] a Mafeking note, a soup-ticket from Ladysmith, a foreign 
 political caricature, or, failing any of these, one of those 
 coloured prints of moderately comic German domestic or 
 military life.' These last obviously serve as incentives to the 
 inferior German scholars to make out the letterpress with a 
 
 1 I have to make special acknowledgment of several obligations : (1) to 
 private correspondents ; (2) to a couple of admirable articles which appeared 
 in the Journal of Education after Edward Bowen 's death. 
 
 p2
 
 212 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 view of seeing whatever degree of humour is to be seen. 
 But another group will have gone straight to the master's 
 desk, 'maintaining with him a continual fire of questions 
 and quibble.' If he have brought any button-holes with him, 
 as now and again he will do, there are eager requests for 
 them, but early applicants are not always successful, and one 
 flower is often reserved till after school, to be bestowed as a 
 reward of merit upon some boy who has done particularly 
 well. One other preliminary may be noticed, though it is 
 characteristic only of hot weather. But if it is the height 
 of summer and the sun is blazing in through the windows, 
 permission will be given for ' haloes.' These are the Harrow 
 straw hats, so shallow as to require elastic to keep them 
 steady, hung on upside down, in order to shield the back 
 of the head and neck. And now the form are in their 
 places with or without their headgear. There will perhaps 
 at once come from Edward Bowen the rapid question, 
 ' Battle to-day ? ' This means that the day is the anni- 
 versary of a battle, and he hopes that some one will have 
 noted the fact. Or perhaps it is an anniversary which he 
 has himself not realised, but which one of the boys has 
 thought of, and in that event there will be a call from the 
 lad of ' Battle.' The suggestion may or may not be accepted. 
 If not, ' there will follow one of those arguments peculiar to 
 the form,' and in the end Edward Bowen probably asks 
 what battle is meant, and then goes on either to admit with 
 mock unwillingness that, though it was (of course) unim- 
 portant, such a battle none the less did take place on the 
 day, or to deny the accuracy of the authority quoted. And 
 now for the lesson itself. If it is ' Latin,' it will not begin 
 with Latin. A ' Latin ' lesson that begins with Latin, is 
 Latin all through, is obviously commonplace. Edward 
 Bowen's ' Latin ' lesson begins with the daily papers. What 
 is the news ? What are the chief events in current history ? 
 The names of one or other of the ministries in power may be 
 asked for, and the question is pretty certain to come if there 
 has been in France, or elsewhere, a change of ministry. If 
 it is a ' French ' lesson there will be the same sort of diver- 
 gence from the time-table. A ' French ' lesson is likely for the
 
 A MEMOIE 213 
 
 first few minutes to mean ' lists.' These will be lists, it may 
 be, of the Prime Ministers of this or the last century, or of 
 the Presidents of the United States, or of the Archbishops of 
 Canterbury (beginning with Cranmer). Another set which 
 may be asked for is the Roman Emperors, another the Hills 
 of Rome, another the Electorates of the Empire, another 
 it need hardly be said the Headmasters of Harrow. 
 Another, as Mr. Trevelyan in his paragraphs on the House 
 has noted, may be ' The mouths of the Nile.' This last is 
 de rigueur, since it is, as Edward Bowen is never tired of 
 explaining, essential that every one should possess at least 
 one piece of absolutely useless information. The list, what- 
 ever it may be, will be rattled off, almost in a single breath, 
 by one member or another of the form ; and then those 
 who also know it, but have not had the opportunity of 
 displaying their knowledge, are called on to ' stand ' a 
 word which in Modern Sixth Form life at Harrow does 
 not bear its usual significance, but means to lean a little 
 forward over the desk. All those ' standing ' then receive a 
 mark with the original declaimer. The measure of required 
 preparation which has been given to the lesson is very 
 quickly tested. Pieces of paper are distributed, and a few 
 questions asked, which are to be answered in two or three 
 words. These are then collected, and the rest of the time 
 will be given not to finding out what the members of the 
 form have or have not learned out of school, but to 
 teaching and to inspiring them to teach themselves. If 
 it is a history lesson to which we are being privileged 
 to listen, all books will perhaps soon be put away, and the 
 master will fascinate and amuse his audience with a descrip- 
 tion of some battle of Napoleon's, or will explain how some 
 foreign history works in with the English history on which 
 the form is engaged. If he wants to explain the details of 
 some fight, tin soldiers will be brought out of his desk 
 ' surely,' writes a pupil, ' in no Sixth Form room have tin 
 soldiers ever manoeuvred before ' and the various sequences 
 of the engagement made clear with their help. Suddenly, 
 it may be, the tin soldiers are formed into procession. In 
 the rear comes a riderless white horse spotted over with ink,
 
 214 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 and without a stand, and with its hoofs bent by force out- 
 wards. It is Turenne's funeral. Listen to the explanation 
 about the horse. ' You see, Turenne's horse was remarkable 
 for having very big feet, and that is the only way we could 
 give it big feet.' Or another relic connected with Turenne 
 may be produced 'the tree' under which he was shot. 
 This consisted of one leaf and a piece of bark about an 
 inch square, presumably picked up by Edward Bowen on 
 the actual spot and now kept by him in his desk. A similar 
 relic, to be produced upon a suitable occasion, is ' the hedge ' 
 from Naseby ; it is a twig about eighteen inches long. Or 
 let us suppose that we are listening on a Friday evening to 
 a French prose lesson. Not an interesting subject as a rule 
 but Edward Bowen will make it interesting. First of all 
 several short sentences will be translated by the Form on 
 paper ; then he will discuss what the translation ought to 
 be, then he will talk about French idioms, and lastly there 
 will be a longer piece of English to be turned into French. 
 An important prize, however, is attached to the correct 
 translation of the original sentences. There are only six of 
 them, but they are not easy to manipulate, and, as a reward, 
 there is offered a six-sided lead pencil bought of the grand- 
 son of the only publisher whom the first Napoleon shot (one 
 Palm of Nuremberg). This special prize is scarcely ever 
 won, not once a term, nor even once a year. Once in a 
 generation of boys or thereabouts it is gained, and it is 
 unnecessary to dwell on the kudos that attaches to the 
 triumphant winner thereof. Perhaps as the lesson whether 
 French prose or history or Latin goes on, we may be for- 
 tunate enough to see ' the goose ' brought into operation. 
 This is a great invention, and has been brought direct from 
 Spain. On its first arrival it was duly announced without, 
 however, its nature being disclosed as ' an instrument of 
 torture which would be used on anyone who was very 
 naughty ; ' and for a considerable time the mysterious threat 
 kept the Form almost preternaturally ' good.' If, however, 
 there is any scandalous piece of ignorance or any (flagrant 
 piece of wild guessing, we shall see it emerge from its 
 hiding-place ; possibly the boys will themselves call for it. 
 It is a small bird, so made that it mechanically wags its
 
 A MEMOIE 215 
 
 head up and down, and this is pointed towards the offender, 
 who has to endure its salute for some moments. But the 
 penalty so severe while it lasts has its compensations. 
 The body of the miniature goose is full of sweetmeats, and 
 one of these is always given as a salve to possibly wounded 
 feelings. One other experience we may perhaps come 
 in for, which will surprise us, accustomed as we are 
 to the ordinary teacher with his stiffness and routine. 
 There may during the lesson be apparently a propos of 
 nothing in particular shouts of ' The Drum ! ' The circum- 
 stance, however, has its explanation. It is Edward Bowen's 
 custom to read to his Form once a term Thackeray's 
 ' Chronicle of the Drum,' and the cries to which we are 
 listening, and to which Edward Bowen also listens with 
 obvious delight, mean that half term has passed and that 
 the Form are becoming impatient. If he is pleased with 
 their work, he will gratify them, and sacrifice some of the 
 lesson to do so. Anyone who knows the ballad and knew 
 him will realise that it reflects his own two-sided nature : 
 on the one hand, his intense interest in all military matters ; 
 on the other, his hatred and horror of the spirit of 
 militarism. No lines can better express Edward Bowen's 
 own summary of the life of Napoleon I. than those which 
 bring Thackeray's striking ' Chronicle ' to its close ; no 
 stanzas can put more vividly the final lesson which the 
 master will have these lads carry away from the contem- 
 plation of that terrific career, closed in St. Helena : 
 
 He captured many thousand guns ; 
 
 He wrote ' the great ' before his name ; 
 And dying, only left his sons 
 
 The recollection of his shame. 
 
 Though more than half the world was his, 
 
 He died without a rood his own ; 
 And borrow'd from his enemies 
 
 Six foot of ground to lie upon. 
 
 He fought a thousand glorious wars, 
 And more than half the world was his, 
 
 And somewhere now, in yonder stars, 
 Can tell, mayhap, what greatness is.
 
 216 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 As we have been with Edward Bowen in form, we may 
 also accompany him to what was a great function in con- 
 nection with its members ' a celebration tea.' This takes 
 place at ' The Grove ' if fine, on the lawn the day before 
 the Eton and Harrow match. Of course it is the cen- 
 tenary or anniversary of something, and the surroundings 
 will necessarily depend somewhat on the event of which the 
 feast is nominally commemorative. What the event is 
 which is to be duly celebrated, has been determined before- 
 hand ; and each boy must bring with him some supposed 
 relic connected with it, and praise will be meted out in 
 proportion to the ingenuity displayed. Let us suppose 
 that the year is 1893 ; it is the centenary of the execution 
 of Louis XVI. Here come three boys bringing axes, and 
 each declaring that his is 'the axe.' The other boys also 
 arrive with various trophies, and then Edward Bowen shows 
 them a brand new axe lying on a bed of ivy. This he 
 gravely assures them is the only genuine article, and sticks 
 to it, till some lad observes that all these claims and 
 counter-claims labour under one fatal difficulty Louis 
 was guillotined. Notice that the bushes are hung with 
 pictures representing, or alleged to represent which on 
 such an afternoon as this is the same thing the various 
 dramatis personce. Then follows the big tea, ending up with 
 strawberries and cream, while a large bouquet is provided 
 for each boy. In the middle up conies a telegraph mes- 
 senger. Edward Bowen has sent a telegram to the Meteoro- 
 logical Office to inquire as to the likelihood of a fine day 
 on the morrow, and here is the answer. 'These things,' 
 wrote a pupil after Edward Bowen's death, in alluding to 
 his ways and methods in school, those ways and methods 
 at which we have glanced 
 
 These things seem trivial, but it was through them and others 
 like them that the kindness and gaiety which won Mr. Bowen so 
 great a power as a master were expressed. The hold which he 
 had upon his form was such that on one occasion we actually 
 offered to come up to an extra first school on the taiormng 
 of a whole holiday if he would tell us about Wellington's 
 Peninsular campaign. He was among the kindest and most
 
 A MEMOIE 217 
 
 sympathetic of men, and taught us by the example of his life no 
 less than by his words. It is difficult for an old pupil fairly to 
 estimate the work of such a man, or to write down an accurate 
 account of the debt which so many owe to him. But it may at 
 least be said that for us who were associated with him at Harrow, 
 whether in work or play, there can be few dearer or more 
 treasured memories than that of the great man whose strong hand 
 helped and whose kindly smile encouraged 'yesterday many 
 years ago.' 
 
 Something has been said of Edward Bowen's religious 
 influence in ' The Grove ; ' something must also be said of 
 it in connection with the members of his Form. The 
 Scripture lessons were on Sunday afternoons and Monday 
 mornings the English Bible being read on Sundays 
 and the French New Testament on Mondays and his 
 teaching of Scripture made as great an impression on his 
 Sixth as his Confirmation lessons upon his House. He was, 
 as has been seen, a member of the critical school, and 
 Biblical criticism was regularly taught by him. More than 
 twenty years ago, and perhaps earlier, the form were learning 
 the rudiments of Old Testament analysis, and separating 
 Genesis into two documents, for themselves. An old pupil, 
 now a very able and well-known Biblical scholar, writes to 
 the author of this memoir : 
 
 It was Bowen who first taught me how to study an ancient 
 document, how to read two parallel narratives and investigate 
 whether they really agreed, or really supplemented one another, or 
 really differed. We began, I think, with Kings and Chronicles, 
 learning bit by bit how to read the prophets into the history. 
 Afterwards we went through Genesis, and learnt in a simple way 
 how to discriminate between the sources. It was all new to me, 
 and took my breath away at first. But the lesson once learnt 
 remained for ever, and to have begun scientific Biblical study 
 under a teacher always" fearless and always reverent has been to 
 me an experience for which I cannot be too thankful. 
 
 But the critical work was not confined to the Old 
 Testament alone. The spirit which animated his teaching 
 in that department animated it throughout. The ' Pauline ' 
 epistles were not all of them, in his judgment, by St. 
 Paul ; and they were not all taught by him as coming from
 
 218 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 the Apostle's pen. He was extremely careful not to dwell 
 unduly upon detail ; and one term he went so far in the other 
 direction as to work through all St. Paul's epistles, taking 
 one a Sunday, and drawing attention just to its main points, 
 and to the outlines of the arguments. His lessons, too, on 
 the Apocalypse were very remarkable, and made a great 
 impression on some of those who heard them. He scarcely, 
 perhaps, kept pace to the end so far as this particular book 
 was concerned with absolutely the most recent German 
 workmanship ; but he knew enough of the ground to clear 
 away some of the worst brambles, and he was careful to do 
 so. ' The beast ' was Nero ; the book came from the troubles 
 of those primitive times, and dealt with the miseries and 
 struggles, the agonies and anticipations of the early Chris- 
 tians. Throughout his teaching whether upon the Old 
 or the New Testament there ran the principle that the Bible 
 itself was the document. It was this which was to be 
 studied, and not opinions about it. This was to be the 
 subject-matter ; this was to be the groundwork. In a word, 
 his teaching was the translation into lessons for a Sixth 
 Form of such a passage as this from the late Professor 
 Jowett's memorable article on ' The Interpretation of Scrip- 
 ture ' contributed to ' Essays and Keviews : ' 
 
 Scripture, like other books, has one meaning, which is to be 
 gathered from itself without reference to the adaptations of 
 Fathers or divines, and without regard to a priori notions about 
 its nature and origin. It is to be interpreted like other books, 
 with attention to the character of its authors, and the prevailing 
 state of civilisation and knowledge, with allowance for peculiari- 
 ties of style and language, and modes of thought, and figures of 
 speech. Yet not without a sense that as we read there grows 
 upon us the witness of God in the world, anticipating in a rude 
 and primitive age the truth that was to be, shining more and 
 more unto the perfect day in the life of Christ, which again is 
 reflected from different points of view in the teaching of His 
 Apostles.
 
 A MEMOIE 219 
 
 The first years at ' The Grove ' the years separating 
 Edward Bowen's acceptance of a large house from Dr. Butler's 
 resignation produced three or four more songs. Of these 
 the first was ' Larry/ a breezy football song ' Larry ' being 
 the football for whom ' kicks are physic ' written in 1883. 
 
 Who is Larry, and what is his sin ? 
 
 What has he done to be so discredited ? 
 String, and leather, and air within, 
 
 Never an ounce of brains inherited ; 
 Up and volley him into the sky ; 
 Down he will tumble by-and-by ; 
 
 Flout and flurry him, kick and worry him, 
 Doesn't he like a journey high ! 
 
 That is his path, where the swallows roam, 
 That is a road that needs no gravelling ; 
 
 Life is dull, if you bide at home ; 
 Larry is made of stuff for travelling ! 
 
 Now you may lift him once again, 
 
 Give him a view of park and plain ; 
 
 Flout and flurry him, kick and worry him, 
 
 That is the way to induce a brain ! 
 
 In the same year he wrote ' Cats and Dogs ' a catch 
 representing the contending cries at football ; and in 1884 
 three more songs. The first of these latter he did not re- 
 publish when in 1886 he brought out his Songs in a small 
 volume, and it is in consequence not included in the 
 Appendices to this memoir ; the second is a bright, clever 
 ditty, descriptive of ' Grandpapa's Grandpapa,' who went to 
 Harrow in the eighteenth century consumed by ' an un- 
 quenchable thirst ' for learning. 
 
 How the buttons on his blue frock shone ! 
 
 Hpw he carolled and he sang, like a bird ! 
 And Rodney, the sailor boy, was one, 
 
 And Bruce, who travelled far, was the third. 
 
 ' Grandpapa's Grandpapa ' was. it would seem, a frivolous 
 young person who had to be kept in check by his more 
 serious ten-year-old companion :
 
 220 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Then to Eodney grandpapa's grandpapa 
 
 Said, ' Eodney, sailor boy, up away ! 
 And with marbles, and with tops, fa la la ! 
 
 'Mid the merry folks from town, pass the day.' 
 But Eodney, sailor boy, ' No,' said he, 
 
 ' Brace tackles, and avast, and alas ! 
 No marbles and jollity for me ; 
 
 I have got to beat the French and De Grasse ! ' 
 
 The third song had for its themes two of the most 
 famous names in the history of Harrow Byron and Peel. 
 There is in the cemetery of the parish church a grave upon 
 which Byron, when a lad at the school, used to lie and 
 meditate and watch the beautiful expanse of country 
 which spread itself out before his eyes. In the old school- 
 room the ' Fourth Form Koom,' as it is commonly called 
 there are panels round the walls with the names of 
 boys carved upon them, sometimes by the expert fingers of 
 the professional workman, sometimes by the unpractised 
 hands of the lads themselves. Among these latter is the 
 name 'Peel.' It is on these two circumstances that the 
 song is based. Byron is found 
 
 Dreaming poetry, all alone, 
 Up-a-top of the Peachey stone, 
 
 from which bliss he is disturbed by the entrance of the 
 angry Headmaster, who ' sets him grammar and Virgil due.' 
 Peel is found 
 
 Just by the name in the carven wood, 
 
 Eeading rapidly, all at ease, 
 
 Pages out of Demosthenes. 
 
 The two boys were absolutely different from one another. 
 Peel could never have written poetry : Byron could never have 
 construed his Demosthenes ; while they both differed equally 
 widely from the ordinary athletic member of the community, 
 who could only explain their existence by remembering 
 that 
 
 Even a goose's brain has uses. 
 
 J t 
 
 They were separate, too, in their subsequent careers and 
 in their deaths, but it is well that Harrow should always be
 
 A MEM01E 221 
 
 broad and liberal enough to include within its pale characters 
 and temperaments so diverse as theirs : 
 
 Byron lay, solemnly lay, 
 Dying for freedom, far away : 
 Peel stood up on the famous floor, 
 Euled the people, and fed the poor ; 
 None so narrow the range of Harrow; 
 
 Welcome poet and statesman too ; 
 
 Doer and dreamer, dreamer, dreamer, 
 
 Doer and dreamer, dream and do ! 
 
 Next year came ' St. Joles,' whose career of scholastic 
 usefulness, so long as it lasted unchecked, fell in the earlier 
 part of the seventeenth century : 
 
 When time was young and the school was new 
 
 (King James had painted it bright and blue), 
 
 In sport or study, in grief or joy, 
 
 St. Joles was the friend of the lazy boy. 
 
 He helped when the lesson at noon was said, 
 
 He helped when the Bishop was fast in bed ; 
 
 For the Bishop of course was master then, 
 
 And bishops get up at the stroke of ten. 
 
 St. Joles hooray, and St. Joles hooroo, 
 Mark my word if it don't come true ; 
 In sport or study, in grief or joy, 
 St. Joles is the friend of the lazy boy. 
 
 It was, too, about this time that he wrote a dainty little 
 song, which he published in his collected verses, but which, 
 for some reason or other, was never set to music. It 
 is called ' Sober Dick,' and it deals with a lad's waking 
 
 dreams : 
 
 What sober Dicky sees, 
 
 When all aglow 
 , Fire lights the winter nights, 
 
 Boys only know. 
 Out, gas no soul it has 
 
 Out lamp and wick ; 
 In the embers, ruddily gilt, 
 Wonderful things are often built ; 
 Sober Dicky can see them all, O sober Dick !
 
 222 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 First there is in those embers the shape of a famous 
 cricket ground, and ' coals applaud with a coaly cry ' the 
 player of a big innings ' Sober Dicky it surely is, sober 
 Dick ! ' Then in the firelight there glows, not Lord's, but 
 the House of Commons. Many historic men are there, but 
 one face under a great wig stands out from all others 
 between the bars : 
 
 Mr. Speaker is made of coal, 
 
 Yet you will think it wondrous droll, 
 
 Like to sober Dicky he is, sober Dick ! 
 
 But at last the fire burns out, and with it all the faces and 
 forms that the dreamer has seen therein : 
 
 When coals are dark and dead, 
 
 All burnt to dust, 
 Sink, light, and turn to night 
 
 So Fancy must ! 
 Warm flame, vision of Fame, 
 
 Faeces passing quick ; 
 Was the coal a teller of truth ? 
 Does imagining poison youth ? 
 Sober Dicky is dreaming now, O sober Dick ! 
 
 In 1884 Edward Bowen read to the U.U.'s that is, as 
 was explained earlier in this memoir, ' the United Ushers,' a 
 society of assistant masters a very brilliant and amusing 
 paper on ' Games,' which was afterwards published in the 
 ' Journal of Education.' No master, of course, was better 
 qualified to write upon the subject, and certainly no master 
 could feel more strongly upon it. The paper is brimming over 
 with fun, but it should be carefully remembered in reading 
 it that the fun is the veil and not the substance. Beneath 
 all the levity there runs a steady purpose the advocacy of 
 athleticism as the most important and valuable of all the 
 factors making up our educational system. The essay is a 
 resolute each reader must determine for himself how far it
 
 A MEMOIE 223 
 
 is a successful defence of the prominence assigned to cricket 
 and football in public school life ; but it may perhaps be of 
 yet wider service. Games are the same for the youth of every 
 social grade ; if they mean so much at Harrow, need they 
 mean less for Whitechapel or Southwark ? If they are in 
 our public schools a great power making for moral as well 
 as physical betterment, is not their development in con- 
 nection with elementary education a matter of supreme 
 importance, in order that here also their influence for good 
 their incomparable influence according to Edward Bowen 
 may have a full and fair opportunity of making itself 
 felt ? The essay sets out with a suggestion that one familiar 
 dictum has a less sufficient basis upon which to rest than is 
 commonly assumed : 
 
 I have often been told that the mind is superior to the body ; 
 I* do not think this has ever been proved. It seems to me to be 
 of the nature of those things which are called pious beliefs. As a 
 rough test, let us think what it is that we most value our friends 
 for : is it for their delicate choice in optatives, which my friend 
 the composition-master assures me is the loftiest mental develop- 
 ment which we can put before our youth ; or is it their temper 
 in other words, their digestion which is their body ? . . . Tom 
 Hughes says somewhere that your real friend is the man whom, 
 if you saw alone and penniless and naked in the street among the 
 carriages, you would take and dress and feed and be a brother to. 
 Well, everyone knows you wouldn't if he had a decided squint. 
 Anyhow, you wouldn't merely because you knew he was clever. 
 How is it practically with us ? I certainly don't think I have any 
 one really very ugly friend (I smile to myself as I write this, to 
 think how when I read it I shall see every one furtively glancing at 
 his neighbour to see if he is looking at him). I repeat, I haven't 
 any very ugly friend. And, on the other hand, I must say of some 
 of my friends, with all respect, that their minds and intelligences 
 are at any rate no better than they should be. 
 
 I begin by the proposition that the common English school 
 games are of indescribable value. Without any exaggeration, I 
 declare that in our whole system there is nothing which, in my 
 opinion, approaches them in value. I merely mention that the 
 battle of Waterloo was won in the playing fields of Eton, because
 
 224 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 that remark will have been generally expected, and it will now not 
 be necessary to make it again. But I have no objection to add to 
 it, that the existence of the playing fields at Eton has been much 
 more to the advantage of the world than the winning of the battle 
 of Waterloo. 
 
 The essayist then goes on to urge the same dazzle of 
 humour being on almost every sentence that games give an 
 immense amount of pleasure, that the social gain involved 
 in them is incalculable, that they develop the organising 
 faculty, that they instil temper, dignity, courtesy. 
 
 Once more, I offer it as my deliberate opinion, that the best 
 boys are, on the whole, the players of games. I had rather 
 regenerate England with the football elevens than with average 
 members of Parliament, who are, of course, our wisest men. When 
 I reflect on the vices to which games are a permanent corrective 
 laziness, foppery, man-of-the-worldness I am not surprised at 
 being led to the verdict which I have just delivered. And, having 
 known more than one period, at one school at any rate, when 
 cricket was distinctly recognised as being on one side, and very 
 serious evils on the other, I find a cricket ball or a football be- 
 coming in my eyes a sort of social fetish, of which it is difficult to 
 realise the fact that our ancestors never dreamt the value. 
 
 The writer goes on to ask whether games do not minister 
 to that 'purity of heart,' to that simple-mindedness, of which 
 the Sermon on the Mount speaks, and to which so great a 
 recompense is promised ; and he adds : 
 
 When you have a lot of human beings, in highest social union 
 and perfect organic action, developing the law of their race and 
 falling in unconsciously with its best inherited traditions of brother- 
 hood and of common action, I think you are not far from getting 
 a glimpse of one side of the highest good. There lives more soul 
 in honest play, believe me, than in half the hymn-books. 
 
 The essay subsequently discusses the interference of 
 masters in the school games. Such interference is desirable 
 up to a point. It should be exercised to ' regulate with despotic 
 control the conditions under which a game shall turn into a 
 public exhibition,' or to check extravagance ' a master does 
 not do his duty to his games who does not enact how much
 
 A MEMOIR 225 
 
 shall be paid to cricket professionals, within what limits 
 the tailor and hosier may have their fling, what shall be the 
 maximum value of cups given as prizes ' to watch against 
 abuses of the compulsory system, to make laws for purposes 
 of health. On the other hand, ' masters should not teach 
 boys to do what they can do for themselves ; and self- 
 organisation we all allow to be half the good of the play.' As 
 regards joining in the games, a master should only do so on 
 two conditions : (1) That the boys welcome him ; (2) that 
 he can keep his temper. The athletic master can easily be 
 wrecked on such rocks as excessive partisanship, roughness, 
 self-assertiveness, selfishness. It is useless for him to join 
 in the games unless he can do so ' genially, modestly, good- 
 temperedly.' As regards swearing on the cricket or football 
 field if ' in the middle of a game we hear some young St. 
 Athanasius making a characteristic remark ' it is ridiculous 
 and hypocritical to be shocked. The master should behave 
 just as he would wish one of the upper boys to behave. He 
 may get an opportunity of angry remonstrance then and 
 there, or he may afterwards find a moment to take the 
 culprit to task, ' and, if he is a big boy, to take him to a good 
 deal of task.' The closing paragraph of his essay as it is 
 printed Edward Bowen appended a note that its real con- 
 clusion was suppressed ' as being frivolous ' is expressive 
 of his intense dislike, to which some reference has already 
 been made, of the gymnasium. 
 
 There it is ; it exists. It is recommended by no scientific 
 authorities of repute ; it appeals to no traditions of past enjoy- 
 ment ; it awakens no social interests, and trains no administrative 
 faculties. It is the mere Greek Iambics of physical training ; has 
 its element of truth, as all pedantry has, and has in its physical 
 results a certain poor degree, as all pedantry has, of success. But 
 what a substitute for football, and what a reflection for us, that 
 men who know and have tasted the powers and the pleasures of 
 play should yet in cold blood drive the children into this dead and 
 barren routine ! Don't suppose that great traditions can be 
 trampled on with impunity. How do we know that the school 
 games are so immovably fixed in school life that the meddlesome 
 intrusion of formal gymnastics may not in some degree blight 
 
 Q
 
 226 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 and spoil them ? . . . We must not exaggerate : it will take a good 
 deal of authoritative gymnastics to spoil cricket ; but I do feel, 
 towards anything which goes in its influence against the games of 
 which we are so proud, a jealousy and an aversion which almost 
 make me blind to its merits. 
 
 John Farmer had, as already stated, left Harrow with 
 Dr. Butler in 1885, and Edward Bowen did not write many 
 songs afterwards, while after 1889 so far as School songs 
 were concerned he ceased writing altogether. In 1887 came 
 ' Awake,' a merry set of verses inciting to what is frequently 
 unpopular both at school and in after-life getting up : 
 
 The wind blew o'er the plain, and cried, 
 
 Awake, boys, awake ! 
 The best of the day is the morning tide, 
 
 Awake, boys, awake ! 
 
 With a plunge and a rush to the air, the air, 
 And safe in the school, with a chime to spare, 
 And who, if it freeze with winter breeze, 
 Is half a coward enough to care ? 
 
 Or grieve if he, in his ardour bold, 
 Or even his master, catches cold ? 
 
 So awake, boys, awake ! 
 
 The joys of the morning take ! 
 They sleep in the city, and more's the pity, 
 
 But you on the hills, awake ! 
 
 The same year brought a cricketing song, ' The Niner ' 
 descriptive of the heroic efforts of a batsman 
 
 Of Cricketers never a finer, 
 From Nottinghamshire to China 
 
 to make nine runs off one hit, and of the tragic fate in which 
 those efforts finally terminated. The next year there were 
 three more songs the first some lines on the match at Lord's 
 ' A Gentleman 's a-Bowling ' and dedicated to Mr. F. S. 
 Jackson, whose bowling had won the game ; the second a 
 boisterous football song, ' Plump a Lump ; ' and the third 
 'Tom.' This last is scarcely appreciated upon, a merely 
 slight acquaintance, but a sense of its merits grows 
 upon its friends with closer knowledge. It should perhaps
 
 A MEMOIE 227 
 
 be read with the light upon its lines of the sentiment to 
 which Edward Bowen gave expression in the essay on 
 ' Games ' that he would sooner undertake the task of 
 regenerating England with the football elevens than with 
 average members of Parliament : 
 
 Now that the matches are near, 
 
 Struggle, and terror, and bliss, 
 Which is the House of the year ? 
 Who is the hero of this ? 
 
 Tom! 
 
 Tom, who with valour and skill, too, 
 Spite of the wind and the hill, too, 
 
 Takes it along sudden and strong, 
 Going where Tom has a will to ; 
 And so let us set up a cheer, O, 
 That Jaffa and Joppa can hear, O, 
 And if a hurrah can waken the Shah, 
 Why, then, let us waken him, singing, Hurrah ! 
 
 Some, who their Houses enthrone, 
 
 Eest, when the victory comes ; 
 Who will go on till his own 
 Boasts an eleven of Toms ? 
 
 Tom! 
 
 Tom, who in cloud and in clear, too, 
 Goes with the lads he is dear to ; 
 
 Is it a dream ? There is the team ; 
 Tom may be real, and here, too ! 
 And so let us, &c. 
 
 In 1889 came the last of the School songs ' the only 
 song throughout which a slight vein of sadness runs ' ' If 
 Time is up.' It is certainly one of his most beautiful 
 compositions, and is characterised by a grace and charm 
 that none can miss. 
 
 If time is up and lesson is due, and youth has got to learn, 
 r I creep to School, if needs must be, and masters soft and stern ; 
 And one will give me good marks, and one will give me bad, 
 And one will give me nothing at all for all the pains I had ; 
 But good come, bad come, for what you must you can, 
 And heigh-ho, follow the game, till boy shall grow to man.
 
 228 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 They glide, the months of worry and work, of desk and floor and 
 
 grass, 
 And till you trust them, fright the soul, and as you trust them, 
 
 pass; 
 
 And one will bring me bright days, and one will bring me dull, 
 And one will bring me trouble enough, till all the days are full ; 
 But bright come, dull come, they came the same before, 
 And heigh-ho, follow the game, and show the way to more. 
 
 Edward Bowen still brought out now and again those 
 songs for his House which helped along his annual House 
 suppers, and in 1897 he wrote, in response to Mr. Farmer's 
 urgent solicitation, the words of a song for old Harrovians, 
 which, however, is not in the Harrow collection, and may 
 not be used by boys still in the School. It is only for those 
 
 whose 
 
 Firelight dreams still summon from afar 
 
 Play's hot battle, ebb and flow ; 
 Hearts made one in the flush of mimic war, 
 
 Yesterday many years ago ! 
 
 It was right and fitting that the last verse of it should 
 contain its benison on Harrow and upon those there 
 the last verse of the last song which he ever published. 
 
 All good things of the heaven and the earth, 
 
 Drop soft blessing on the hill ! 
 Crown fair youth with her heritage of mirth, 
 
 Weak souls quicken into will ! 
 Years, bear gaily the trophies you have won, 
 
 Strong life bringing, as you go ; 
 Shine, bright suns, shine happy as you shone 
 
 Yesterday many years ago ! 
 
 It is, of course, upon Edward Bowen's School songs that 
 his reputation as a writer will always rest ; but there are 
 verses as well which are more than noteworthy. The most 
 exquisite set of all ' Shemuel ' have already been noticed. 
 Some other lines are on ' P. L. C.,' a boy who had died 
 suddenly a few days after leaving the School; while 'An 
 Episode of Balaclava ' is commemorative of a 'forgotten 
 event an event not mentioned even by Kinglake in that 
 celebrated charge which was both led by an old Harrovian
 
 A MEMOIE 229 
 
 and received its last touch of romance from an old Harrovian. 
 There are too some very beautiful memorial verses on ' B. G.' 
 (Eobert Grimston), and others scarcely less beautiful on 
 ' F. P.' (Frederick Ponsonby, Lord Bessborough), to both of 
 whom Harrow cricket was so deeply indebted for many years. 1 
 Never perhaps has a more touching tribute been offered to 
 the memory of a great cricketer than the lines on Eobert 
 Grimston : 
 
 Still the balls ring upon the sun-lit grass, 
 
 Still the big elms, deep shadowed, watch the play ; 
 
 And ordered game and loyal conflict pass 
 The hours of May. 
 
 But the game's guardian, mute, nor heeding more 
 What suns may gladden, and what airs may blow, 
 
 Friend, teacher, playmate, helper, counsellor, 
 Lies resting now. 
 
 Well played. His life was honester than ours ; 
 
 We scheme, he worked ; we hesitate, he spoke ; 
 His rough-hewn stem held no concealing flowers, 
 
 But grain of oak. 
 
 No earthly umpire speaks, his grave above ; 
 
 And thanks are dumb, and praise is all too late ; 
 That worth and truth, that manhood and that love 
 
 Are hid, and wait. 
 
 In later years the holidays brought no such exciting 
 experiences as those of 1870 and 1871 ; but they had a 
 quiet interest of their own, and it is unfortunate that there 
 
 1 Theirs may not have been strictly called eventful lives, but they were 
 eventful in the annals of the School to which they were so deeply attached. 
 Their place it will be impossible to fill ; their memory is enshrined in the 
 hearts of Harrow boys. They were men of honour ; they were men of truth ; 
 they resented a mean action ; they abhorred a false word ; and, owing to their 
 high character, exercised an influence among the boys, abiding in its nature 
 and unique in its kind. E. CHANDOS-LEIGH.
 
 230 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 has been preserved no record by himself of such a tour as 
 that which he took in 1891 with Mr. Charles Colbeck one 
 of his colleagues and most intimate friends in Bohemia. It 
 was a battle-field tour Eger, Prague, Kollin, Koniggratz, 
 Riesengebirge, Austerlitz, Briinn, Vienna, Lobau, Wagram, 
 Hohenlinden and it was just such a tour as his heart loved. 
 He began, however, to find about this time that it was de- 
 sirable that he should spend some of the winter away from 
 England, and though he did not go to the Riviera every year, 
 he would do so, if possible, biennially. On other occa- 
 sions he would go a tricycling or when the modern 
 ' safety ' had come in, a bicyling tour in England, and 
 these tours were duly chronicled on the celebrated map, only 
 in dotted and not full lines. At the termination of one such 
 circuit he addressed these lines ' Jacobo Bryce, S.T.P.,' l who 
 had been his companion : 
 
 Suave, bicyclantis vento minuente laborem, 
 
 Leniter undantem corripuisse viam ; 
 Et (nisi zinziberi succos caupona recuset) 
 
 Trans quot habet campos Anglia nostra vehi. 
 Seu per acervatos lapides, aut pulvere mollis 
 
 Fit via, punctura prsepediente rotas, 
 Cogeris et, veteris fracta compagine currus, 
 
 Nunc eques alterna nunc pedes ire vice ; 
 Seu deus, eloqiiio gaudens, quo Curia gaudet, 
 
 Alipes inceptum rite secundat iter. 
 Sed nobis positi tandem stat terminus oti ; 
 
 Musa redux pueros ad pia pensa vocat. 
 DiscendsB Eegum series, nee amabilis ordo 
 
 Paparum, et Corsi pro3lia mille viri. 
 Lusimus ; occubuit perdrix, cessitque tonanti ; 
 
 Dura nimis teneros laesit lerna pedes. 
 Bos-que Fabri tenuit domus, et Northumbricus imber, 
 
 Helvellynque Eubras mons ubi celat aquas. 
 Consedi demum fessus. Fit Lucus asylon 
 
 Sontibus. Hie tutus tu quoque, Joe, fores ! 
 At tu, qui te jam desiderat, addere lecto ; 
 
 Detque elegis finem 2 charta repleta. Vale. 
 
 ' 
 
 1 The Bight Hon. James Bryce, D.C.L. M P. 
 * Another copy has, ' Me vetat extendi.'
 
 A MEMOIK 231 
 
 In the last ten years (1891 to 1901) of his life he was 
 more frequently present than ever upon the cricket or 
 football field, though cricket he now actually played but 
 rarely. In football, however, he took a share till within six 
 weeks of his death, though he was, of course, no longer the 
 antagonist he formerly had been. But on one occasion a 
 somewhat memorable one he showed all his old power and 
 vigour. It was in 1894 or 1895, when he was fifty-eight or 
 fifty-nine years old. The Harrow masters were playing the 
 Eton masters at Harrow, with half the School looking on. 
 Eton were the better side, and with ten minutes left the score 
 was one goal each. The Harrow masters were very hard 
 pressed, and the brunt of the game fell upon the backs, among 
 whom was Edward Bowen. He seemed to feel that by a 
 supreme effort he might save the game ; he threw himself 
 completely into it, became as aggressive in attack as he was 
 brilliant in defence and did save the game. The enthusiasm 
 among the boys can be better imagined than described. 
 
 During these years his influence and his reputation 
 were at their height. The School was alive to his devotion, 
 and responded to it with loyalty to him and pride in him. 
 His greatness, too, was recognised outside ; he had made for 
 himself a splendid name in the educational world. His col- 
 leagues felt that they had in him one whose supremacy in 
 all matters connected with public school life was beyond 
 question, and his experience and judgment were always at 
 their disposal. At the same time he was to some extent 
 becoming a recluse, and was living a more and more isolated 
 life. His fellow- workers, unless they sought him out, did not 
 see much of him, and many of the younger masters felt 
 at times something akin to irritation that they did not see 
 more. 'He was very kind,' writes one of them, 'if you 
 went to consult him; but it required an effort to go where 
 you were never* invited, and one hesitated to trespass on 
 his time unless one had some very definite question to 
 ask or some difficulty to lay before him.' At masters' 
 meetings he would constantly speak, though the influence 
 of his speeches was at times diminished through the fact 
 that he became as another colleague has said ' almost
 
 232 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Gladstonian often in the guarded circumlocution of his 
 phrases.' His quickness to mark distinctions and to note 
 difficulties that had been overlooked by others was very 
 striking, and he could when he really desired to carry any par- 
 ticular point be wonderfully persuasive ; but, on the whole, 
 he was ceasing somewhat to be constructive and becoming 
 critical. A master one of the two just quoted writes : 
 
 The more I saw of him under these circumstances, the more I 
 became convinced that his not having become a headmaster was 
 a great loss to English education, and to a certain extent a loss to 
 his own character. In a position of authority, with full scope for 
 exerting his own influence over his colleagues, with his many ideas 
 and ideals, and his wonderful fertility of resource, kindled and 
 steadied by the sense of heavy responsibility, with his exquisite 
 taste in classical scholarship and his enthusiasm for history and 
 modern subjects, I believe he would have done much to guide our 
 public school education in the transition from a purely classical to 
 a modern system, in which we seem to flounder forward with little 
 definite notion of what we want, and to be in danger of sacrificing 
 the old way without getting the gain of the new. . . . 
 
 I felt most strongly, as I watched him, and have often thought 
 since, that this was what he was made for to have the weight on 
 his own shoulders rather than to judge how another carried it 
 and that the development of tbe critical faculty, which was his 
 weakness, was due to the fact that even his devoted labours for his 
 House and for the School were insufficient to absorb the immense 
 fund of energy he possessed. 
 
 This may, perhaps, be condemned as an idle speculation. 
 Bowen could not have borne to leave Harrow to become a head- 
 master elsewhere ; and in 1885, when Dr. Butler resigned, he was 
 not appointed. He served to the end in the lower place 
 
 ' He did God's will to him all one 
 If on the earth or in the sun.' 
 
 Edward Bowen, however, would spare neither time nor 
 pains to advise and help a colleague who was in real per- 
 plexity. In November 1892 a young master came to him to 
 seek his counsel in connection with one of the most serious 
 troubles which ever darken school-life. The outcqme of the 
 consultation was a remarkable letter which was afterwards 
 published anonymously in ' The Journal of Education,' but
 
 A MEMOIE 233 
 
 of which there seems no need to conceal any longer the 
 real authorship. It will probably be regarded as the locus 
 classicus upon an extremely difficult and painful subject : 
 
 THE LIMITS OF CONFIDENTIAL EELATIONS 
 WITH BOYS 
 
 I was thinking, after you left me yesterday, of the general con- 
 ditions on which we invite the confidence of boys. It is an old 
 subject at any rate appears old to me but it is so full of variety 
 and difficulty that it seems always to be inviting fresh reflection. 
 
 There are certain clear and visible dangers which'the wise man 
 may avoid more or less, but which are still dangers to everyone 
 (I include you for argument's sake, if for no other reason, as 
 among the wise men, and am writing generally) and also certain 
 limitations. 
 
 The only attitude in which we can properly invite confidence 
 on any matter very personal and private is that of a friend. That 
 much I am clear about; but of what follows I am less clear. 
 Does it not follow, however, that I ought never to get a boy to 
 speak to me of his personal history for his own sake ? I am going 
 beyond this if I do so, partly for his own sake, and partly in order 
 that I may know what will help me to deal with others. I must 
 never try to make my own or other people's profit out of what he 
 says to me. If it comes, well and good ; but it ought not in any 
 degree to be my object. 
 
 This does not exclude my consulting with any boy for the 
 common welfare, and receiving any confidence given for that 
 purpose. This is a different relation altogether ; it can exist at 
 the same time as others, but is perfectly separable. 
 
 Of course, confidence received in both senses is absolutely 
 sacred. But this does not bar my acting on it hi any way in which 
 the boy gives me leave to act, or in which I am sure that he would 
 be willing that I should use it. This last looks a dangerous 
 amplification, but I am assuming that I am wise and good. 
 
 Also I ought not to take advantage of my position to urge him, 
 beyond the Emits of a moderate pressure, to give leave for such 
 action. 
 
 Lastly, on this particular head, my relation, as friend and 
 nothing more, involves certain limitations and reticences as to 
 what is actually said. A person who unbosoms himself to a 
 friend, for his own good, will naturally speak of his own faults in 
 general terms, and not in detail, and he will only enter on the
 
 234 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 latter in case he expects to receive specific advice and help, which, 
 in fact, the wise friend can give, very often at any rate, without 
 the unbosoming. 
 
 But, one may say to oneself, although the only confidential 
 relation is the friendly one, is not this, in some cases, coloured, 
 and does it not naturally take a slightly different line, from the 
 relation of boy and master ? Yes ; but the ethics of this relation 
 are comparatively easy. A boy cannot forget, and there is no 
 reason why he should, that the person talking to him is a superior 
 in several ways ; and there are only two considerations which are 
 important (besides the obvious ones) in this relation : one, that a 
 master has a duty to the school, and must hesitate before he puts 
 himself in any position, with regard to a boy, which will impair 
 his power of acting as a master should necessity arise ; and the 
 other, that he is likely to spoil the good that he does, if he is com- 
 monly known as a receiver of confidences of the special kind of 
 which we are thinking. The idea may become too common, and 
 the conception of the importance and seriousness of such excep- 
 tional intercourse may be impaired. If I were asked whether I 
 can remember instances where this result seemed to have followed, 
 I should say, with regret, that I think I can. There is even the 
 further possibility that a boy who is expecting detection may con- 
 ceive the idea of forestalling it, and partly securing himself, by 
 means of a private confidence. 
 
 So far then, and with these limitations, we shall probably 
 agree that a master who admits, and even invites, the confidence 
 of boys, may do a very great amount of useful work, and give help 
 of sometimes untold value. If he is foolish or perverse in the way 
 in which he sets about it, so he may be in other matters. We are 
 taking his good sense for granted ; and all the reserves and limita- 
 tions which we are calling up are really only a measure of the 
 degree in which every schoolmaster must have his thoughts and 
 recollections filled with instances where fragile characters of boys 
 have been indebted to the help of stronger and friendly advisers. 
 
 But I cannot help thinking that there are two other dangers in 
 the way of the confidential intercourse in question, both more 
 subtle, but not less important than the others. One of them is 
 the danger to the boy of being enfeebled and demoralised by his 
 own act of confession. This is clearly possible ; the most ex- 
 perienced of us can but make a guess as to the extent of its 
 probability. The mere putting a thing into words, the mere com- 
 munication of it to another, involves just a certain familiarisation 
 with it, and the more one can keep bad things out of mind the
 
 A MEMOIR 235 
 
 better. An act of repentance ought, I should think, to be 
 vivid and eager, not brooding. The best thing that we can do 
 with our sins is to forget them. That one ought to reflect much 
 on one's past offences, and ought to take careful pains to be on 
 one's guard against them, are two common maxims of the pulpit ; 
 but they seem to me both wrong. However this may be, it 
 can hardly be doubted that repeated disclosure of wrong-doing, 
 habitual recurrence to the counsel of another, must whether it 
 has a good side or not have the weak side of impairing the 
 delicacy of conscience, and must prevent the formation of self- 
 confidence and firmness. It is so very easy for a boy to fancy 
 that, when he has done wrong and confessed it, things are pretty 
 much as they were before. Grant that he wants help ; but is that 
 help necessarily best given by one who completely knows all his 
 frailty ? 
 
 The other danger is from the point of view of the master ; but 
 it may be much more real to some people than to others, and to 
 some may be hardly a danger at all. I have often thought that 
 the craving for influence, especially for spiritual influence, is one 
 of the chief ' temptations,' ' snares,' of our profession. Moral 
 strength is like physical strength, a thing that we may be glad to 
 possess, but we have no right to be always wanting to use it on 
 weaker people. At any rate, it is possible that the wish to do so 
 may betray us into situations in which we shall be thinking much of 
 our own mastery and action, and less of the development of power 
 and will in the other person. That virtue should triumph ought 
 to be every one's wish ; but if a man mentally adds the intense 
 desire that it should be under his own leadership and auspices, he 
 is introducing a wrong note into the music. Possibly you may 
 not feel conscious of this morbid element mixing with healthy 
 energy, but I am sure some people must. 
 
 Please make allowances for the style of this letter. I wish 
 I knew some way of writing in haste, and under much other 
 pressure, without seeming dogmatic and didactic. 
 
 In July 1894, Edward Bowen gave evidence before the 
 Royal Commission on Secondary Education, appointed by 
 Lord Eosebery's Government, and presided over by his old 
 friend Mr. Bryce (at the time President of the Board of 
 Trade). Edward Bowen's examination took up the whole of
 
 236 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 one sitting, and was principally concerned with the question 
 of the supervision of secondary schools by some external 
 authority, and with the urgent desire which many of his 
 profession felt, but which he did not at all share, for the 
 systematic training of teachers. Upon this latter subject he 
 appeared, he said, to play the part of advocatus diaboli. He 
 did, indeed, say something of his views upon the age at which 
 boys should leave school for the University views which 
 have already been touched on, and upon which (as has been 
 seen) he largely acted in connection with his own House. 
 He took care, also, in answer to a chance question, to express 
 his own strong appreciation of the value of athletics, and 
 his earnest hope that they would not be forced back into a 
 less important place than that now held by them in public 
 school life. But it was these other two questions which 
 formed, so to speak, the main planks in the platform of his 
 evidence. 1 His objection to the supervision of secondary 
 schools by some external authority was mainly due to his 
 anxiety lest a control or semi-control of that sort should 
 have a cramping influence upon the curriculum. He did 
 not attribute any serious practical inconvenience to the 
 existing multiplicity of the examinations for admission to 
 the various professions ; nor did he consider that a general 
 Abiturienten-Examen was worth the very large financial 
 price that would have to be paid for it. Of such examina- 
 tions as there were he had no great complaint to make, 
 though he distinctly preferred the Civil Service Commis- 
 sioners' examinations to those of the Joint Board of Oxford 
 and Cambridge. The former were, in his judgment, more 
 carefully adapted to the various standards required, and the 
 papers were better composed. Outside inspection or super- 
 vision of any kind carried with it, in his opinion so far 
 as the great public schools were concerned an element of 
 peril which distinctly outweighed any possible advantages. 
 He did not discuss the requirements of efficiency in other 
 schools, e.g. schools in receipt of a Government grant ; but 
 he considered that schools such as Eton, Harrow^ Kugby, 
 
 1 The greater part of his evidence will be found in the Appendices of this 
 volume.
 
 A MEMOIR 237 
 
 and Winchester, were continuously subject to an informal 
 inspection, which was at least as effective as any formal 
 one could be he meant, of course, the interest and watch- 
 fulness both of the general public and of the particular 
 clientele of the school. Centralisation was destructive of 
 elasticity, and he referred, in illustration, to the legend of 
 the French Minister of Education, who pulled out his 
 watch in the presence of a friend, and remarked that all 
 the children throughout the country were at that moment 
 engaged on one particular study. ' I believe the Com- 
 mission has before it the original author,' he observed. 
 ' I invented that story some thirty years ago.' His evidence 
 on the training of teachers was even more emphatic and un- 
 compromising. He was, to some slight extent, 'heckled' 
 upon the matter by one or two Commissioners who were 
 clearly disposed to differ from him ; but he never changed his 
 position. His argument was, in effect, this : It is not going 
 much too far to say that nothing but inherent character 
 can produce good teaching, and such character is obviously 
 independent of anything that a training college, as such, 
 can do for a man. It is, of course, true that the giving 
 of instruction is part of a master's calling; but, though 
 always important in itself, its importance varies. Some- 
 times, as in day-schools, it may assume not only very large, 
 but obviously preponderant proportions ; but in secondary 
 boarding-schools especially in the great public schools 
 its value is much less. In these the imparting instruction 
 is not nearly so important as all that part of a master's 
 work which lies outside and beyond it. What, therefore 
 so far as schools of this kind are concerned the training 
 of teachers can hope to do at most is to deal with the 
 smallest part of a master's duties the part which may be 
 spoken of as ' pedagogy.' No doubt a man has a good deal 
 to learn in this section of his duties, but you cannot teach 
 him much except by subjecting him to actual experience. 
 In other words, you cannot train him to be a teacher except 
 by making him a teacher. What little training you can 
 otherwise impart could be given in a fortnight. There are 
 a few hints to be offered, a few cautions to be impressed, a
 
 238 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 few general rules to be taught, some books to be read. It is 
 no doubt a fact that, in the case of elementary schoolmasters, 
 training colleges do much to prepare candidates for the 
 profession ; but their work is, to a very great extent, that 
 of universities. The students continue their own education 
 there. The colleges impart knowledge, but the work they 
 do in actual training for the pedagogic side of a master's 
 career is comparatively small. Again, if the training of 
 teachers is universally to be taken up, and if no teacher is 
 to be employed who has not been trained, the expenditure of 
 time and money involved in so drastic a proposal must also 
 be taken into consideration. A man could not well go to 
 one of these colleges for less than six months, and the 
 maintenance of himself there would mean six months extra 
 in preparation for his life, and six months less in his 
 period of wage earning. The number of masters to be 
 trained would be immense, and altogether the cost would 
 be heavier than was fair and reasonable, and heavier than 
 the profession which consisted on the whole of poor men, 
 who had to make their own way in the world could bear. 
 And even if the price were paid, the gain would be com- 
 paratively small, though larger in the case of some than 
 others, in proportion as pedagogy was or was not to form 
 the chief part in their subsequent duties. Master and 
 pedagogue, it must be remembered, were not convertible 
 terms. A man might be a skilful pedagogue but a very bad 
 master ; while the important thing was that he should be a 
 good master. ' A bad man teaching history well is a far 
 worse thing than a good man teaching history badly.' A 
 master's work will, on the whole, be excellent or inferior as 
 his own personal qualities are excellent or inferior. 
 
 In 1897 three years after this evidence he wrote 
 another and his last essay for the ' U.U.'s.' J He took as his 
 subject one of those mistaken ideals of schoolmastering 
 which he considered to be due in part to the influence of 
 Arnold of Kugby. Of Arnold, Edward Bowen was never an 
 unqualified admirer. ' In the picture of Arnold himself as 
 
 < 
 
 1 The essay was published in the Journal of Education for April 1897, and 
 will be found among the Appendices.
 
 A MEMOIE 239 
 
 he is drawn for us, there are features which further experi- 
 ence, if we had the creation of a new Arnold in our hands, 
 would lead us to modify.' And in this paper, it is the weak 
 points in a bad imitator of Arnold, or rather the mistakes 
 in an imitator of the weak points of Arnold, that are 
 brought up to the surface and good-humouredly satirised. 
 Its title is ' Arnoldides Chiffers ; or, the Attitude of the 
 Schoolmaster ; ' and Mr. Chiffers is, as his Christian name 
 would imply, a disciple of the famous Bugbeian. He is re- 
 presented as having achieved much distinction in his pro- 
 fessional career, and on his decease his life was duly written. 
 Here is the summary of his character as his biographer saw 
 and admired it : 
 
 No one ever left the school without bearing the impress of his 
 striking personality. His rule was inflexible, but just. He would 
 sink, indeed, the master, and become a boy himself among boys ; 
 he would seek at times the popularity that flowed from his joining 
 personally in their games ; but he could resume on occasion a 
 dignity which would tolerate no compromise. Caring for nothing 
 in the world but tbe success of the institution which he helped to 
 govern, he regarded its fame as the first of objects, and its very 
 cricket matches as tests of its welfare. Work with him was work, 
 and play was play. No lounging or smiling before the desk of 
 such a teacber ; every pupil feared him while at class, but, the 
 lesson over, had nothing to fear. Lavish in rewarding excellence, 
 he never passed over a fault. Schoolboy errors, indeed, he saw 
 witb the eye of a schoolboy, unless they trenched on what to 
 him was sacred ground study, order, the majesty of work ; and 
 he hated above all things, in a growing mind, slackness and in- 
 attention and frivolity. As the ' Times ' writer said of Dr. Benson 
 at Wellington, it was a treat to see the zealous satisfaction 
 with which he chastised the boy found out in a lie. In a word, he 
 studied day by day to bring his own moral influence to bear on 
 the characters of those entrusted to him, he made his approval 
 their standard, .and taught them to regard one another, not from 
 the point of view of fleeting popularity or schoolboy honour or 
 social gifts, but from the eternal point of view of right and 
 wrong. 
 
 Such are the features of the imaginary or perhaps not 
 altogether imaginary schoolmaster upon which Edward
 
 240 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Bowen proceeds to comment in detail. ' Arnoldides ' and his 
 methods are subjected to a raking criticism, and through the 
 gauze of the criticism is to be seen Edward Bowen's truer 
 conception of a first-rate schoolmaster. Mr. Chiffers was 
 wholly wrong in thus separating work from amusement. 
 Grave and gay are bound together in ' a natural and fruitful 
 marriage.' What reason, what justification, was there for 
 this violent divorce ? Of course quadratic equations cannot 
 be brought into football in an hour's game there is not 
 time for them. But there can be, and is, introduced into 
 football and all honest athletics what gives the value to all 
 good work ' systematic effort, conscious progress, deliberate 
 ambition to be better to-morrow than to-day, the delight in 
 new-developed gifts.' In the same way ' humour, paradox, 
 fancy, nonsense gild the solidity of a lesson.' If ' Arnoldides ' 
 had had a truer and worthier idea of the value of games, and 
 had been a better teacher, he would have escaped at any 
 rate the error of sharply dividing work from play. Then 
 again his discipline in form erred in other respects. He was 
 lavish in his rewards ; 
 
 but he ought to have known, as we know, that rewards are 
 almost as demoralising as punishments, and that the less we have 
 of them the better. Very few boys want them ; the energy that 
 they impart to the few does no good to the many. They are un- 
 social, they discriminate where we want to solidify, they feed 
 vanity where we want to inspire companionship. A very little 
 temperate praise, just to give voice to the common admiration for 
 excellence, is the best reward, and generally enough. Mr. Chiffers 
 gave Jones a book bound in calf for translating a satire of Horace 
 without a mistake. If he had only remarked that Jones was not 
 such a very bad construer after all, it would have had as much 
 effect, and would have been more in the humour of the game. 
 
 On the other hand, Mr. Chiffers was wrong not to allow 
 lounging. ' One listens better if one is comfortable except, 
 perhaps, on warm afternoons.' Of course boys may not 
 ' loll ' they probably would not want to ; but if they did, it 
 must be stopped. 
 
 The limit is simply that point at which they would cease to 
 show respect, I do not say to their beloved instructor, but to each
 
 A MEMOIE 241 
 
 other, and the system, and to him as representing it. So long as 
 they demean themselves as they would in a drawing-room, he 
 should be content. 
 
 Mr. Chiffers, too, was a blunderer in desiring to be feared 
 in school, but not out of school. ' The attitude of his pupils 
 towards him ought at all times and seasons to be much the 
 same.' It was an act of silliness, again, to try ' to be a boy 
 among boys ' and an act of silliness to his own detriment, 
 since in ' essaying to be what he was not, a boy among 
 boys, he naturally omitted to become something more than 
 his scholastic duties made him, and remained a sort of 
 glorified tradesman.' He was in addition a prig in devoting 
 himself wholly to the supposed duty of bringing his moral 
 influence to bear upon his boys. How did he know 
 that he was better than they? His own faults were 
 not the same as those of his pupils, no doubt ' he did 
 not throw boots about the passages or draw horses in his 
 dictionary ' but was he as a whole, in general tone and 
 character, superior to the young life with which he was 
 surrounded ? His efforts showed, too, that he knew but little 
 of boy-nature, for which direct influence does not as a rule 
 do very much, though indirect influence does a great deal. 
 
 The building grows, like the Temple of old, without sound of 
 mallet and trowel. What we can do is to arrange matters so as 
 to give Virtue her best chance. We can make the right choice 
 sometimes a little easier, we can prevent tendencies from blossom- 
 ing into acts, and render pitfalls visible. How much indirectly 
 and unconsciously we can do, none but the recording angel knows. 
 ' You can, and you should,' said Chiffers, ' go straight to the heart 
 of every individual boy.' Well, a fellow-creature's mind is a 
 serious and sacred thing. You may enter into that arcanum once 
 a year, shoeless. And in the effort to control the spirit of a pupil, 
 to make one's own approval his test, and mould him by the stress 
 of our own pressure, in the ambition to do this, the craving for 
 moral power and visible guiding, the subtle pride of effective 
 agency, lie some of the chief temptations of a schoolmaster's 
 work. 
 
 The essay then passes to a criticism of some of ' the 
 Chifferesque ' which is heard Sunday after Sunday in the 
 
 R
 
 242 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 pulpits of public school chapels. The exhortation to think 
 much of past sins, the assertion that it is only cowards who 
 tell lies, the clap-trap about ' false phantoms of schoolboy 
 honour,' the importance of testing the moral worth of a 
 fellow-creature before giving him friendship, the invita- 
 tion to the elder lads ' to think every hour of the day about 
 influencing the others towards virtue ' these specimens of 
 homiletic oratory Edward Bowen condemns and casts aside 
 as either unreal or actually misleading. A boy should forget 
 his sins ; it is as a rule ' the bold bad boys ' who tell the 
 lies, though it is a rule with exceptions ; schoolboy honour is 
 not something different from the honour ' which is the same 
 in every age and time.' The advice about friendships was in 
 flagrant defiance of the example of One who sought the com- 
 pany of publicans and sinners ; while as for a continuous in- 
 fluence towards virtue to be exercised by the older lads upon 
 the younger, just ' fancy the attitude of mind of the captain 
 of an eleven who should say at the beginning of an innings, 
 " Go to, I will now use my moral influence on my team " ! ' 
 The captain of an eleven can perfectly well check swearing, 
 and tell the boy who cribs in school that he is a fool. ' But 
 that is not using influence ; it is keeping up the spirit of the 
 thing, exalted conventionalism.' The author in a penulti- 
 mate paragraph gives a few characteristic words of parting 
 advice : 
 
 If you want to swim against the stream, you must first learn 
 to swim with it. The civic temper is the preparation for the 
 heroic, and to overcome is less glorious than to lead. It is the 
 same in the inner life of our profession, and we train ourselves, if 
 we care for our work more than our hobbies, in smoothness, con- 
 formity, tolerance. Schoolmastering and politics these are the 
 two trades to which this art is needful beyond most others. 
 Opportunism is the back view of the edifice of which statesman- 
 ship is the fa9ade ; the edifice is one and the same. The Exchequer 
 and the Admiralty are at war, but the Government must pass the 
 Budget. A permanent secretary finds his political chief hopeless 
 and incapable, but he neither says so nor appears to think so. 
 You are a headmaster, and your colleagues read tha sporting 
 papers ; you are an assistant, and your head drones and sleeps ; 
 or your governing body does pig-headed things, or your boys are
 
 A MEMOIE 243 
 
 vulgar. But the art of life consists in making the best of the tools 
 that you have, and playing your part with courage, as if they were 
 all keen and strong. It is what the great Dundonald could not 
 do, and that makes the moral of his life. You believe in Church 
 and State, and your environment is radical; or you hold the 
 newest heresies, and the tone of the place is all saints and mysteries. 
 These things are all less important than what you have to do, and 
 it is your business to use the phrase once more to play the 
 game. Then, when you have once put self and vanity in the 
 second place, you will be worth quite as much as a man, and worth 
 much more as a schoolmaster. It will not seem unnatural if your 
 pupils learn to do the same themselves. Character will shape to- 
 gether, interests will drift towards a common end. You will not 
 have, like Mr. Chiffers, to pretend to take a boy's point of view ; 
 for, widely different as their thoughts are from yours, they will 
 yet understand that your temper and desires are the same. If you 
 talk with them, you may be a comrade without pretending to be a 
 child : when they work with you, they will be your companions, 
 wayward, frivolous, stupid, peevish, intractable perhaps, but com- 
 panions, fellow-travellers, playmates. 
 
 Another contribution privately made by him in November 
 1899 to the discussion of educational questions will also 
 be read with interest. It is a letter written to Sir Joshua 
 Fitch, formerly chief inspector of training colleges, in reply 
 to a request for his opinion upon two important points : 
 
 (1) Was the system of open competition in the selection 
 of candidates for the public service satisfactory or not ? 
 
 (2) How far, or in what way, did the system indirectly 
 influence the schools and universities from whose ranks the 
 public service is thus recruited ? 
 
 It will be seen from the letter sent in reply that 
 Edward Bowen thought (a) that, making considerable 
 deductions, the examinations (which had immensely im- 
 proved in the way in which they were conducted) on the 
 whole did their work well ; (6) that their indirect influence 
 on schools and universities on schools at any rate was 
 only slight. 
 
 The letter, which is now given for the first time in its 
 entirety, was as follows : 
 
 B 2
 
 244 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 I sent a very hurried answer to your letter on Saturday, being 
 specially busy ; but now I will try to say shortly how these points 
 strike me. I know next to nothing about any competitions except 
 those for the army and for the Indian (and English) higher public 
 service. As to the others, however, they must be important if it 
 were only on account of the ground they cover. Speaking, how- 
 ever, of what are commonly regarded as the higher competitions, 
 I have two general remarks : 
 
 (1) The practical details of the examination are extremely im- 
 portant, as compared with their general tendency. I think there 
 can be no department of human energy in which a slight change for 
 better or worse goes so far. Each fresh apportionment of marks, 
 each novelty in drawing up papers, has results widely reaching. 
 
 (2) The examinations have not less vastly improved. The 
 accumulated experience of the office has told ; great care has been 
 given, and has not been thrown away. It is more than thirty 
 years since I used to write articles about them in the old 
 ' Saturday Keview,' and the difference now is remarkable. I call 
 the papers now, on the whole, excellent ; they are a good deal 
 better than what reach us from the universities. 
 
 But as to the efficiency of the examinations as a means of 
 selection. No doubt Macaulay was too roseate. Character is less 
 identical with capacity to make marks than either he supposed, 
 or the ordinary journalist supposes now. There are virtues which 
 do not pay in examinations, and there are vices consistent with 
 success. All this perhaps more than the public supposes. And, 
 still further, I cannot see how this can be remedied, though I have 
 taken some pains to try and clear the difficulty. But, all the 
 same, the main arguments of Macaulay were right, and, however 
 great deductions have to be made, I still think that on the whole 
 the examinations do the work they were meant to do. On the 
 whole, using the words in a liberal sense, they get the best men ; 
 and in the present condition of feeling and opinion (which are not 
 likely to alter in the immediate future), I do not think any better 
 plan is in the field. 
 
 The influence of these competitions on schools and universities 
 is, I should say, not very great. We teachers are a race easily 
 worried, and perhaps we make much of small annoyances. The 
 army examinations are a nuisance ; I don't think we have 
 any right to say more. I cannot say seriously that either our 
 organisation or our curriculum or our methods are so gravely 
 interfered with, or even so abundantly coloured, that we have 
 reasonable ground of complaint. In some degree they may help
 
 A MEMOIE 245 
 
 to keep us alive ; in some degree their arrangements may be, or 
 even ought to be, suggestive ; but it does not go very far either for 
 good or for evil. All examinations and tests do harm ; some also 
 do good. I should not put the Civil Service Examinations as 
 having a really serious influence either way ; and whatever there 
 is of disturbance has been diminished in recent years. It might 
 be diminished further, but it must always exist in some degree. 
 
 Nor do I think the influence on boys or undergraduates is very 
 strong or very wide. To a few it gives a strong stimulus, which 
 has its good and its bad sides ; but this is not very long in point of 
 time ; and the number affected is not very large compared with 
 the rest who are not affected. Some parents say, ' I will let my 
 son try for the army because, anyhow, the prospect will make him 
 work.' I acknowledge some truth in what he says ; but it is easy 
 to over-estimate it, and, in fact, it is generally over-estimated. 
 But my knowledge of schools is greater than of the universities, 
 though, of course, I have many old pupils in the latter 
 
 It was in 1893 that he made his first great gift to the 
 School. This was in the form of an important extension of 
 ' the Philathletic Ground ' the large cricket ground which is 
 separated by the road from what is known as ' the Sixth 
 Form Ground' where the majority of the games take 
 place and where ' Cricket Bill ' is called. It was followed 
 two years later by a large anonymous donation (1,OOOZ.) 
 towards the purchase of the Northwick fields. At what 
 date he finally determined to leave the bulk of his property 
 to the School it is impossible to say, but there is reason to 
 believe that a bequest of land was in his thoughts in 1893. 
 In 1900 he purchased ' The Grove,' and, though no deed of 
 gift was signed, he practically offered it to the Governors to 
 do what they liked with. It was his view that the Head- 
 master should be relieved of the heavy duties and responsi- 
 bilities necessarily connected with a large boarding-house 
 at Harrow the Headmaster's boarding-house is about half 
 as large again as any other and there was, perhaps, a 
 plan in his mind by which ' The Grove ' should cease to be a 
 boarding-house and become the Headmaster's private resi- 
 dence. Such a scheme has not hitherto proved feasible,
 
 246 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 and ' The Grove ' remains what it was as of old, ' lads some 
 forty there be ' but there can be little doubt that in theory 
 Edward Bowen's opinion as to the importance of this 
 differentiation of duties in connection with the Headmaster 
 was absolutely correct, and it is the view to which effect is 
 given at Marlborough. Whether such a reform is to be in- 
 definitely delayed or not at Harrow it is difficult to foretell, 
 but it is to be hoped that an early solution of such practical 
 difficulties as exist may yet be found, and that in this 
 respect the wishes of Edward Bowen, and of others as well, 
 may in some manner or other be carried into effect. 
 
 At the close of 1898, Mr. Welldon resigned the Head- 
 mastership on his acceptance of the Bishopric of Calcutta. 
 Edward Bowen was then sixty-three years old, and his 
 appointment was out of the question. The choice of the 
 governing body fell upon Dr. Joseph Wood, who had made 
 for himself a considerable reputation at Leamington and 
 afterwards at Tonbridge. It was a selection which Edward 
 Bowen welcomed, and during the brief space that the two 
 were colleagues there was no sort of shadow over their 
 relations with each other. ' I, who knew him only for the 
 last few years of his life, had learnt to respect and love 
 him more than I can say ' such was the simple language 
 used from the pulpit of the School chapel by Dr. Wood 
 after the end had come. But the colleagueship and friend- 
 ship were to last little more than two years. 
 
 Sorrows deepened about Edward Bowen's path during 
 the last decade of his life sorrows which the affection of a 
 younger generation could only partially relieve. His father 
 had passed away at a ripe old age in 1890. His elder 
 brother Lord Bowen died in 1894, and Lord Bowen's 
 widow in 1897, and it need not be said that these were 
 heavy blows which left their marks. His old mother still 
 remained, but her eldest son's death had permanently 
 affected her health ; it was with much difficulty that she 
 rallied at all from the shock, and she was never again any-
 
 A MEMOIE 247 
 
 tiling but an enfeebled woman who needed every care. 
 She was taken in 1894 by Edward Bowen to live with 
 him at Harrow, and was resident in his house at the time of 
 his death. As an illustration of the way in which such a 
 nature as Edward Bowen's clung to the memory of vanished 
 faces, and rejoiced in the echoes of ' voices that are still,' it 
 may be mentioned that upon his own death his younger 
 brother's letters and papers the letters and papers of one 
 who had gone before him more than twenty years were 
 found in a box on the floor of his room near the window. 
 Not only had they never been destroyed, but they had never 
 been put out of sight. 
 
 The South African war, too with which, as has been 
 said, he had no sympathy brought him additional griefs. 
 Of the many Harrow officers who lost their lives in it, two 
 or three were his old boys, for whom he mourned with the 
 somewhat bitter feeling that the sacrifice of them had been 
 unnecessary. The death of one of them in particular l was 
 an especially heavy blow. Edward Bowen loved this young 
 officer almost as his own son, and hardly knew how to bear 
 the intelligence that he had succumbed to enteric fever. The 
 same night that the news came so the story goes he 
 went his rounds as usual, some time after lights were out, 
 and was seen by a wakeful boy, whose door was open, to 
 stop by the panel on which the name of the officer had 
 been carved when a member of the House, and by the 
 glimmer of the nickering candle in his hand slowly to trace 
 over with his finger the letters in the wood. Edward Bowen 
 spoke of him a little while afterwards to a lady, who in 
 response said something of her hope that good might come out 
 of the war. ' Ah,' was the sad reply, ' but I want my boy.' 
 
 There was also in the last two or three years the 
 increasing sense that, so far as his work at Harrow was 
 concerned, the sands were beyond question beginning to 
 run out ; while the doctors were warning him that there 
 was an element of extreme precariousness in his life 
 whether at Harrow or elsewhere. Strain and effort and 
 
 1 Lieutenant Ernest Reade. He [had served with much distinction and 
 courage at Ladysmith.
 
 248 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 the refusal to spare himself had done their work, and his 
 heart was seriously affected. But Edward Bowen was not 
 the man to allow his natural sunniness and gaiety to be 
 overclouded by gloom, or rather he was not the man to 
 allow others to feel that there was such a cloud upon 
 him. In their company the brightness and joy of the 
 morning were always about him; he was alone when he 
 gave way to a sense of the heaviness of the night. But 
 he had his fears, though sudden death was not among 
 them. ' What I dread,' he said to an intimate friend, ' is 
 old age and solitude.' Whether he had made up his mind to 
 resign his mastership altogether, it is difficult to determine'; 
 he certainly was contemplating as was said at the com- 
 mencement of this memoir giving up ' The Grove,' and he 
 had built for himself a small house in another part of the 
 estate, a little lower down the hill. The Headmaster, how- 
 ever, had suggested to him that he should still keep his 
 form, and he had resolved to do so, at any rate for a short 
 time. But the old keenness, the old vigour, the old inde- 
 fatigable energy still remained. He was always ready for 
 walks and expeditions. He continued to play football. He 
 continued to ride a bicycle. In one or two small ways he 
 took more care of himself; but the same can scarcely be 
 said of essential precautions. He deliberately preferred to 
 run what risk there was, great though that risk was. ' He 
 may,' as a colleague has observed, ' have been right, or he 
 may have been wrong, but he would hardly have been him- 
 self if he had done otherwise.' None besides himself and his 
 medical advisers seem to have known the fatal secret, and he 
 was spared the struggle with counter-opinions and protests 
 which must otherwise have taken place. And so the last 
 months of that brilliant life sped on, scarcely any realising 
 how near he might be to his goal. A master at the School 
 has recalled a characteristic trait : 
 
 He was a lover of little customs. His usual way from school 
 or chapel to ' The Grove ' was by the Speech Room Garden, but on 
 Sunday evening he always went up the steps and by (Church 
 Hill. He told me that he did so, but gave no reason. Probably 
 it was a little observance, for which there was none ; but I have
 
 A MEMOIE 249 
 
 sometimes wondered whether he turned aside to see the view from 
 the churchyard by the ' Peachey Stone.'' I met him there once 
 on a summer evening, and as we watched a distant storm, he 
 spoke with quite unusual warmth of his love for the wide prospect 
 that lay stretched before us, and also told how, years ago, he had 
 determined to walk by compass to a hill on the distant horizon, 
 and had done it. It was an epitome of himself the deep feeling 
 of the poet, the tireless energy of the man of action. And now, 
 hard by, the flowers are blooming on his grave. 
 
 In 1900 he gave what was to be his last lecture to the 
 School in Speech Koom, on the Peninsular War. It was one 
 of three or four which he had during the last ten years 
 carefully worked out, others being on the Franco-Prussian 
 War and the American Civil War. In 1900, too, he wrote 
 what were probably his last set of verses some vigorous 
 and even boisterous lines on that year's match at Lord's. 
 At the end of the Easter Term of 1901 he went to his last 
 School concert. It was on his birthday, March 30 ; and an old 
 pupil noticed afterwards that one of the songs then sung 
 was his own, ' If Time is up.' For him time was then within 
 ten days of being up. 
 
 He had arranged to go abroad during the Easter holidays 
 with his old friends Mr. and Mrs. Bryce on a bicycling tour 
 in France. It was while he was in their company that 
 the end came. He was as bright and joyous as possible during 
 the tour, full of fun and gaiety, and to all appearance well 
 and vigorous. On the morning of Easter Monday, April 8, 
 the little party passed through Moux, a village near Solieu 
 in the Cote d'Or. Shortly afterwards they had all got off 
 their bicycles to walk up a long hill. At the top of it Mrs. 
 Bryce mounted, and Edward Bowen prepared to follow her 
 example. His foot was on his bicycle step ; and then in one 
 brief moment ' as the lightning cometh out of the east and 
 shineth even uhto the west ' all was over. It is unnecessary 
 to dwell on the details of what followed. Every respect, kind- 
 ness, and courtesy were shown by the French officials, and 
 through the ready help of the English Embassy at Paris the 
 necessary formalities were made as easy as possible ; and by 
 the Thursday evening all that was mortal of the great Harrow
 
 250 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 master had found its temporary home in the Harrow chapel. 
 On the following Monday he was buried on the high hill-top, 
 under the south wall of the parish church, which crowns it, 
 close to ' The Grove/ and within sight of the football field ; 
 some of the old heads of his House drawing him from the 
 chapel where the first part of the service was held, and 
 where his old chief, Dr. Butler, read the Lesson to his final, 
 most beautiful resting place. It was a procession never to 
 be forgotten by those who saw it. There has never been at 
 Harrow any such gathering of old Harrovians and friends 
 of the School, except on the one occasion of the Tercentenary 
 Festival. 
 
 On the evening of the first Sunday of the summer term 
 a special memorial sermon was preached by the Headmaster 
 (Dr. Wood). In the course of it he said : 
 
 There are few among us, if they rightly analyse their own 
 character, who would not find that the silent and half-unconscious 
 influence of example had far more to do, in making them what 
 they are, than any reasoning or argument. So strong is personal 
 influence, which strikes home rather through the heart than the 
 brain, and dwells unchangeable in the memory. 
 
 So it is with that unique and beautiful life the loss of which is 
 mourned by Harrow and by all to whom Harrow is dear. For 
 the first thing which will occur to every one of us to say of the 
 death of Mr. Bowen is that his memory and the example of his 
 character are the imperishable inheritance of the School he loved 
 and served so long and so devotedly. His brilliant qualities of 
 mind, his unselfish generosity, his kindness and tenderness of 
 heart, his simplicity of life and character, will be treasured by 
 generations of Harrow boys with an affection and an admiration 
 which will end only with their own lives and not then. 
 
 He seems to me to have combined, in a way I never knew 
 surpassed or equalled, the qualities which arouse admiration with 
 those which inspire confidence and affection. Everything he did 
 was well done, and he did nearly everything. A brilliant scholar, 
 the ablest and most inspiring of teachers, a poet of real genius, 
 full of wit and humour, tbe most delightful of companions, instinct 
 with untiring energy and life, entering even to the ver^ last into 
 all the many-sided activities of School, a born leader of men. 
 
 And with it all, how simple of heart, how tender to those in
 
 A MEMOIR 251 
 
 sorrow, how true a friend and counsellor ! Few of us but have 
 reason to know how loving and generous a heart was his. In 
 any trouble or anxiety, it was to him we went for sympathy and 
 advice. We sadly recognise the fact that there has passed away 
 from us one who was a mighty force for good in Harrow, and 
 whose death is an irreparable loss to one and all. 
 
 The testimony of two others both of them old friends 
 and colleagues may also be quoted, and with their words 
 of love and appreciation this memoir may fittingly conclude. 
 The first shall be that of his close and intimate associate, 
 Mr. Charles Colbeck, who has succeeded him as senior 
 master on the Modern Side. He writes : 
 
 My friendship with Edward Bowen dates from the time when 
 I came to Harrow as a master thirty years ago, in the year 1871, 
 two years after taking my degree. I was eleven years his junior, 
 but we were both Trinity men, and many common friends there 
 aided a community of tastes, occupations, and interests to make 
 the interval of years from the first seem as nothing except when 
 youth or impetuosity needed the helping experience, I will not 
 say of age, for he was never old, but of maturity and wisdom. 
 Two years later he asked me to take a Modern Side form, and 
 thenceforward for nearly thirty years, in work as well as in play, 
 I had the privilege of very constant, and at times of very intimate, 
 intercourse with him. 
 
 Looking back upon those years now, and considering what I 
 can set down which may help to explain to those who did not 
 know him why he gained to so remarkable degree the confidence, 
 admiration, and affection of so many and various men, I find, as 
 others have done, that it is not an easy thing to delineate his 
 character or estimate his influence ; for he was in many ways 
 very reticent, he lived a lonely life, he was not given to preaching 
 upon the housetop, nor to pressing his opinions upon others 
 unless some definite subject was under discussion for a practical 
 end, and so busy that the moments of intercourse were largely 
 occupied with the lighter talk of recreation or daily life. 
 
 I think what impressed and attracted me most at first was the 
 keenness of his interests, the gaiety of his humour, the enjoyment 
 he derived from life, and his efforts to share the enjoyment with 
 others, and especially with boys. What differentiated him most 
 obviously was the small personal share of the pleasant things 
 which he so evidently enjoyed that he claimed, or rather I should
 
 252 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 say that he would consent to accept, for himself. What differen- 
 tiated him most deeply, I am inclined to think now, was his 
 incessant unobtrusive observance of what would give pleasure to 
 others and the skill with which he contrived to bring it about. 
 He never praised except with sincerity and delicacy, but he 
 never forgot that praise is very welcome and very encouraging. 
 As an offset, unconsciously perhaps, he claimed and exercised a 
 right of pleasantry and badinage which gave much pleasure to 
 others, and never went further than to serve as a wholesome 
 reminder to its temporary victim that the petty follies of man- 
 kind were only useful as a foil to wit. But I never knew 
 him otherwise than tender to real feeling, however passionate 
 and wrong. It goes without saying that he liked others to 
 try to chaff him, and he had a rare gift for maintaining a 
 paradox when rule or reason or common-sense was arrayed 
 against him. I have often wondered whether his all-pervading 
 unselfishness was the result of some cross in earlier life, pos- 
 sibly of some crisis ; but I am inclined to think that it was not, 
 and that the touching words of the Master of Trinity l are very 
 near the truth. It was a precious gift of his nature ; but I do 
 know that the natural gift was nobly cultivated. The long ill- 
 nesses ending in death of two brothers and a sister-in-law revealed 
 a sustained power of devoted attention, with which no stress of 
 work was ever allowed to interfere, to which it would be hard to 
 find a parallel. Was a boy ill whom he knew, no matter whether 
 he was his own pupil or not, he would contrive something to 
 beguile the weariness of confinement, and give to its contrivance 
 endless pain and thought. Did another pupil write to him, the 
 answer was prompt and not perfunctory witty, affectionate, in- 
 vigorating. I was walking once with him in Wales, and we 
 obtained shelter and afternoon tea in a little cottage among the 
 hills. After tea I was smoking or amusing myself with noting 
 the room and its contents, but he had noted the invalid looks of the 
 husband, and was taking down name and address, and offering the 
 aid of admittance to a hospital. His power of self-control was 
 very great ; most of his playmates must again and again have seen 
 him hurt, even severely hurt, but it passed unheeded ; his control of 
 his temper was no less complete. He was seldom angry, never 
 without grave cause, never carried away by it, never discourteous 
 for a moment. This I say deliberately, for I have seen him sub- 
 jected to severe provocation. It was not the acquiescence of a 
 
 1 Vide p. 4.
 
 A MEMOIE 253 
 
 weak nature, it must be remembered; he felt keenly enough, 
 judged severely enough, maintained his rights strictly, punished 
 severely, but he held himself in hand as a matter of principle. A 
 schoolmaster upon occasions, happily rare, has to exercise extreme 
 severity. I have known the boy in at least one such case 
 speak of him years afterwards with a warmth of affectionate 
 respect that showed that even in such circumstances he could 
 inspire hope. He kept a record of all his pupils from the first, 
 which he wrote up carefully once a year. It was partly, I think, 
 this careful noting of progress in a boy's life that made him so 
 discerning and safe a judge of conduct ; but this quality of sound 
 judgment had also its grounds in his clear perception of the 
 complexity of human life, of the need for an honest science of 
 ' casuistry,' of the aid the intellect must give the heart in deter- 
 mining the right course of action. He had thought things out in 
 this sphere as in others, but he did not dogmatise. If you asked 
 his advice, he gave his reasons. I have alluded to his reticence 
 and reserve, and it was marked ; but if advice was seriously 
 sought, it was never refused, and if you asked his opinion on 
 some speculative point of morals or religion, he held that it was 
 right for him to give it to you, with the one sole but imperative 
 condition that you asked as a seeker after truth and not from 
 curiosity. His was an eager mind to which inactivity was 
 unknown, and to many he may have seemed restless and even 
 impatient, not in temper, but intellectually. 
 
 But in reality, though active, his mind did not work fast ; he 
 read slowly and always impressed on boys the need of so doing. 
 He composed slowly. On the other hand, he talked faster and 
 certainly wrote faster (and worse) than most men. And he 
 certainly loved a race a contest whether the exercise were one 
 of body or of mind. The exertion pleased him in itself, and he 
 encouraged it in others, and would have maintained its claims. In 
 fact, as appears from more than one of his songs, he regarded 
 games as things good in themselves, wholly innocent, and to be 
 sought, not as recreations, but for their own sake. The spirit of 
 man was at its best when playing a game strenuously, loyally, 
 with full and conscious enjoyment. What spoilt the game, as it 
 spoiled life, was laziness, selfishness, ill temper, excess, extra- 
 vagance, or vanity. Be simple, be sincere, be fair, rule your spirit, 
 be courteous, be generous, be modest, and then for you the ills 
 of life will be but the accidents which they really are. It was 
 the Stoic's defiance of fortune allied with the Epicurean's pursuit 
 of innocent pleasure, but there was also the Christian spirit of pity
 
 254 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 and brotherhood and self-denial, if by self-denial a good object 
 could be attained. Of self-denial for its own sake he would have 
 none. He hated injustice, and showed lasting anger, so far as 
 I know, towards it alone. If I attempted to classify his interests, 
 I should be inclined to say that he cared for things somewhat in the 
 following order : boys, literature, games, history, walks, politics. 
 Boys must be understood to include men and women, for assuredly 
 no small part of his life was bound up in his friendships, deep, 
 lasting, valued, and fostered as they were ; but I think his friend- 
 ship with his boys held the first place in his heart, and I rejoice to 
 think it was so, for he gave his life to his boys, and their love for 
 him made us, who regretted often the scanty remnants of his time 
 that could be given elsewhere, feel that perhaps it was best so for 
 him as well as for them. In literature he was well read, and loved 
 the best prose and poetry equally. His own prose style was 
 admirable, clear, polished, terse, and forcible. His songs speak 
 for themselves. Of games he would probably have given the palm 
 to football he certainly most excelled in it ; but he was a better 
 bat than he would admit. I have seen him save a hard game 
 repeatedly, and until he was fifty he was a first-rate field, especially 
 as long-leg, and kept wicket well to the last. To be in with him 
 and run short runs in a country match when the bails were off, 
 the bowler disabled by a wild return, and an objurgating wicket- 
 keeper bombarded by third man and mid-on alternately, was a 
 pleasure wholly without alloy. He played fives well, and was 
 fond of it ; but the game being played by four only in a small 
 court may be treated conversationally, and the spirit of fun 
 generally prompted him to keep up a running fire of jokes 
 which interfered with accuracy of play. Golf and lawn-tennis 
 were too modern for him ; his tastes were fixed, his time too fully 
 occupied. He was an excellent judge of cricket, and liked nothing 
 better than watching a good match at Lord's. A little paper of his 
 on the placing of the field, written for the benefit of a Harrow 
 captain soon after the Australians had taught us to innovate and 
 improve, is excellent in matter and in style, and is a good instance 
 of the moral importance which he saw in games. The institution 
 of Football ' Torpids,' of the ' Infants' ' Match at Cricket, similarly 
 show the pains he took to make the older train the younger, and 
 his insistence on the solidarity of the School in play as well as 
 in work. 
 
 I do not know when or how his love of history be'gan. He 
 won the ' William the Third ' Essay at Cambridge, but I do not 
 think he made a special study of the subject, and the Cambridge
 
 A MEMOIK 255 
 
 of his day certainly gave it but little encouragement and no 
 teaching. But he was deeply convinced of its importance, and pro- 
 moted the teaching of it in many ways. It was a subject which lent *~ 
 itself to his methods of teaching full of small points, beyond the 
 reach of none, good for the teacher, affording him the opportunity 
 to fill himself full and teach himself empty, very human, very 
 practical, very varied, good in itself as training, good in that it 
 could be treated pictorially, dramatically, romantically, and that 
 to some extent for the capable and interested, to a great extent 
 it could be treated not as something to be taken on trust, but as 
 something to be inquired into, corrected by original research, 
 criticised, estimated. He had a first-rate knowledge of Napoleon's 
 campaigns, a wide knowledge of all battles and battle-fields, and a 
 competent knowledge of history in general. Give the outline 
 from the first at an early age, he would say, go over it again and 
 again, go deeper, go wider, go to the fountain head if you can. 
 He knew no distinction between ancient and modern, and treated 
 a campaign of Caesar and the last frontier war in the same fashion. 
 He would procure or make maps, get up all the facts and give a 
 clear lecture on either, sparing his pupils all the pains he could, but 
 exacting from them full work at the same time. I do not think 
 any one so successfully possessed both the inspiring and the driving 
 power, which separately make so imperfect a teacher, and the com- 
 bination of which is so rare. Here again he had thought the 
 matter out, and was full of contrivances for shortening the time 
 given in school to testing and marking the work done out of it, so 
 leaving the maximum of time for the stimulating oral instruction 
 of which the only fault was perhaps an extreme rapidity of 
 utterance. ' I don't know how it is, sir,' a boy has often said to ** 
 me, ' but if Mr. Bowen takes a lesson he makes you work twice as 
 hard as other masters, but you like it twice as much and you learn 
 far more.' He had a great power of making older boys judge 
 themselves, and offer an adequate punishment of an intellectual 
 kind for their shortcomings. Throughout in all matters there was 
 an appeal to the boy himself, to his best part, to his conscience. 
 To train the conscience so that its discernment of right and wrong 
 was clear, and the following of it was habitual, was his method. 
 If there was no conscience, then still there was something to be found 
 to appeal to. I have known him keep a very bad and weak boy 
 straight for a while by an appeal to his honour as a gentleman, 
 when it seemed that nothing could influence him. He coerced 
 and punished in the ordinary way, if necessary, without the least 
 reluctance or weakness.
 
 256 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 The way of transgressors was always made hard, but he never 
 gave a boy up as hopeless or turned from him unpityingly. If the 
 master's vigilance, he held, made it impossible, or all but impossible, 
 for offences not to be discovered, not only was much positive evil 
 saved, but a standard was maintained which in itself gave dignity 
 to discipline and helped the slow process by which the external 
 law became the internal principle. There is no such virtue as 
 obedience, I have heard him say often, and he disliked sermons 
 on this topic, meaning that obedience was necessary as a means 
 to an end, but not an end in itself. Again, he always made clear 
 the distinction between the punishment which could be jested 
 about and the graver punishment which could not. His ingenious 
 playfulness delighted in all manner of petty devices for curing 
 petty faults and leaving no bitterness behind. He was never 
 afraid of showing his enjoyment of simple and trifling pleasures, 
 and I have often noted how he influenced boys in his House or 
 Form in this direction a wholesome influence for boys, as well 
 as men, are apt to neglect as dull all but the more important or 
 exciting forms of activity, to waste too much time and money on 
 them, and to find life insipid without them. This feature of his 
 character was the more remarkable because he was no recluse, but 
 a man of the world with no illusions and a sound judgment on 
 all important questions of politics or conduct, one whose opinion 
 was often asked on subjects that were not educational, and most 
 keenly interested in all the problems of life. Nor was he un- 
 ambitious. He would have liked a political life, and during 
 some fifteen years made several attempts to enter Parliament. 
 He failed, and after just missing being selected to contest the 
 Harrow Division of Middlesex in 1885, he did not try again. 
 Partly, he felt he was too old to learn the business of a politician, 
 and too clear-sighted to think that there was little or nothing to 
 learn ; partly the House, which had at first been a task from 
 which he shrank, grew to be a work to which he was content to 
 devote his whole energies until his death. I doubt if he would 
 have made an impression in Parliament as a speaker his voice 
 waa not strong, and his delivery in a set speech was on the whole 
 not effective but he would have been a first-rate committee 
 man or administrator, and had he entered it as a young man, 
 might have gone far. He was a thorough Liberal to the last, 
 though he left his party on the Irish question, never having 
 believed in the economics of the land policy of Mri Gladstone, 
 and being wholly averse to Home Eule. His was the Liberalism 
 of the school of John Mill and John Bright, and he made
 
 A MEMOIR 257 
 
 perhaps too little allowance for the possibility that communities 
 under the influence of strong feeling may deliberately determine 
 to organise themselves under laws that disregard the rules of 
 political economy. In this respect alone his judgment was some- 
 times at fault. He thought that men would reason more, and 
 follow reason more, in their conduct than they do. Of his 
 generosity there is no need to speak ; but it is worth while to note 
 that, though boundlessly generous, he was never wasteful and 
 seldom imposed upon. He gave because the need was great, or 
 the cause a good one, or the pleasure he conferred great ; but he 
 did not encourage extravagance, nor give to avoid importunity. 
 In one respect alone was he extravagant. He would bestow time 
 and pains on the requests and wants of others with a lavishness 
 so disproportionate to their claims or importance, that I think not 
 even his own ingenuity could have justified what he wasted. 
 
 The second and closing testimony shall be that of 
 Mr. E. Bosworth Smith like Mr. Charles Colbeck, the very 
 affectionate and loyal friend of many years, and a colleague 
 bound to him by links of sympathy which the lapse of time 
 only rendered stronger and more irrefragable who wrote 
 thus to ' The Harrovian : ' 
 
 My work as a Harrow master began, as it is now all but 
 ending, with Edward Bowen. I lived in his House during the 
 first year of my mastership, saw what he was like ' in his work 
 and his play,' learned, I hope, many lessons of incalculable value 
 from him; and now, looking back on thirty-seven years of 
 common if of all too unequal work, and of unbroken confidence 
 and friendship, it seems to me that his life has been as complete 
 as his character was unique, and that his death, even now while 
 we are mourning most deeply his irreparable loss, seems only to 
 have put the finishing touch, to have been the crown, as it were, 
 to the whole. It is exactly the death which he himself would 
 have wished, which all his friends would have wished for him. 
 He has ' passed,' he has been ' translated,' and who will say that 
 he had not well earned it? ' He was not ; for God took him.' 
 
 Seldom, surely, has anyone combined such exceeding subtlety 
 of intellect with such transparent simplicity, such childlikeness of 
 character. His character had many sides to it indeed, as a-*"" 
 diamond has many facets ; but each side was as clear as crystal. 
 Seldom has anyone, with such brilliant and varied gifts gifts 
 calculated to make him shine in any sphere devoted himself so 
 
 8
 
 258 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 unreservedly, so whole-heartedly to the work which he had marked 
 out for himself at Harrow. He seemed to me to have within him 
 an unlimited supply of life, and, what is rarer, an equally un- 
 limited capacity for interesting himself in it, and for enjoying it. 
 What indeed was there that was at all enjoyable or valuable 
 except, perhaps, repose that he did not enjoy ? The humdrum 
 and routine, which must form so large a part of a teacher's life, 
 were never humdrum and routine to him, for he put the whole of 
 his abounding energies into his work, and round its driest details 
 there played and nickered, as with a lambent flame, his joyous 
 spirit, finding expression, now, perhaps, in a striking parallel, now 
 in a startling paradox, now in a touch of humour, and, once and 
 again, in a note of pathos, that pathos which forms the under-song 
 of all earnest life, and which made, to those who had eyes to see 
 or minds to comprehend, every lesson of his to be a revelation, 
 every task a pastime. 
 
 A stranger who saw him watching every ball that was bowled 
 on the cricket field, through a livelong summer's afternoon, as 
 keenly as though the fate of an empire depended upon it, or heard 
 him discussing the chances and ' auguring the fate ' of a candidate 
 for the Eleven ; or, again, one who watched him ' dropping down 
 the hill ' day after day, in defiance, as we now know, of all 
 doctors' warnings, to join, as he continued to do up to within the 
 last week or two of his sixty-five years of life, in his House 
 football, or saw him, as I often did myself, with something of a 
 sad foreboding, labouring up the hill again, after the game was 
 over, might well have been excused for thinking that he was a 
 man wholly and entirely given to athletics. 
 
 If, again, the same stranger had been admitted as distin- 
 guished or inquiring Americans or Germans sometimes were to 
 hear a lesson in his Form-room, and had learned what a lesson in 
 his hands was capable of being ; or if he had looked into his study 
 at any moment between his solitary and hasty meal, at 6 or 7 P.M., 
 and midnight or much later, and watched him preparing the 
 lessons for next day, of which others might well have thought him 
 already a past master, determined to know everything that could 
 be known about them, and to put new life and light into what was 
 to him already a twice-told tale ; or, again, if he had heard him 
 read an essay on some educational or intellectual problem, or 
 some aspect of school life, he could hardly have thought otherwise 
 than that he was wholly absorbed in things of the mind or in 
 moral conduct. So absorbed, indeed, was he during term time in 
 his attention to the alternating work and amusements of the
 
 A MEMOIR 259 
 
 School, that, pre-eminently sociable though he was, he denied 
 himself all the attractions of society, hardly ever even visiting 
 London, or dropping in to have a talk with a friend. He seemed 
 to have eyes or attention for nothing but his appointed work. 
 
 But those who thought so knew only half the man ; perhaps, 
 less than half of him. If he could find time for nothing else, he 
 always found time to give any amount of attention and sympathy 
 to those who came to him for them, or who, it occurred to him, 
 might be likely to benefit by them. To be in trouble or sorrow or 
 difficulty, was a sure passport to his heart. His judgment was 
 almost always sound ; his kindness and his helpfulness unlimited. 
 How often has it been his to lessen the sorrows and to increase 
 the joys of those who consulted him ! How often has he been 
 able one of the divinest of all Divine gifts to discern the ' soul of 
 goodness in things evil ' ! How many pupils, how many friends, 
 has he been able to lift to their higher and better selves, criticising, 
 reproving, comforting, suggesting, stimulating, inspiring ! 
 
 Behind the word-fencing, the straw-splitting, the play of 
 fancy, the blithesome jests, the delicate and delicious irony, the 
 brilliant paradoxes, the apparent levity, which gave him and 
 others so much intellectual pleasure, and which, as they lay upon 
 the surface, a mere outsider might imagine to be the real man, 
 there ran the deep under-current of the most earnest and serious, 
 the most true and tender of natures. 
 
 What devotion to duty there was in him, what sincerity, what 
 purity, what open-handedness, what magnanimity ! To know 
 Edward Bowen was a liberal education in itself ; while to be ad- 
 mitted to his inner circle, to know him intimately, as some of his 
 colleagues and pupils did most of all, perhaps, those who were in- 
 vited to join him in his annual walk through parts of England, or in 
 his travels over the battle-fields of the Continent was to love him 
 with a depth of love, and to admire him with an intensity of admira- 
 tion, to which it would be hard to find many parallels. Those who 
 walked with him, saw him, perhaps, at his very brightest. There 
 was not a turn of the road, not a study of the Ordnance map, not 
 a meal, not the signboard of a country inn, not a discomfort, that 
 did not seem to give him material for ever fresh pleasure. 
 
 To pass into his Form or his Division how often have I noticed 
 it in pupils of my own ! was to pass under the wand of the en- 
 chanter. The sleepy bestirred themselves, the dullard threw off 
 something at least of his dullness, the boy who had been pro- 
 nounced hopeless by less long-suffering or more hasty judges, 
 found that there was hope in him and for him yet ; the intelligent 
 
 s2
 
 260 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 aud energetic learned, perhaps for the first time, the full value of 
 energy and of knowledge for their own sake. And what a marvel 
 of good temper he was ! Did anyone ever see him angry when 
 teaching, anyone ever see him even ruffled? Difficulties of 
 discipline he had none ; he could afford to allow his pupils to be 
 merry, even, on occasion, to be boisterous, provided only that 
 they were alert. He rode with a light rein indeed, but they knew 
 that the rein was always there, and he never needed to tighten 
 it. Just as, by his genius for military history, by his marvellous 
 memory for military details, and by his pictorial power, he managed 
 to make the history of the Napoleonic campaigns the vehicle for 
 teaching an outline of much of modern history ; just as again, in his 
 so-called ' astronomy ' lectures, given to all the pupils in his House 
 who chose, he managed to cover, from time to time, most of the 
 outlines of human knowledge ; so by precept and by practice, in 
 hours of rest as well as in hours of work, in times of joy as well 
 as of sorrow, he managed to make his famous formula of ' Always 
 play the game ' cover nearly the whole ground of boy-life and con- 
 duct. The very glance of his ever-questioning eager eye, the quick 
 turns of his remarkable and expressive face, the movements of his 
 body, the pace at which he walked, all indicated the vast reserve 
 of force and energy that lay within. The flash of his eye, his 
 flashes of silence, too, when an important matter was in dispute, 
 often spoke more eloquently than other people's speech. 
 
 Felix opportunitate mortis, surely, if any man ever was so. 
 He was ' translated ' in a moment, swift, sudden, entrancing ; in 
 the presence of two intimate and devoted friends, in the full pos- 
 session of all his varied faculties, before his eye had grown dim or 
 his natural force abated, without one physical pain, without one 
 pang of parting. 
 
 When a friend wrote to him a few years ago to sympathise 
 with him on the loss of his, perhaps, more widely known, but 
 hardly more brilliant brother, Lord Bowen, his simple answer to 
 her was, ' I am content to wait.' Yes : like his own ' Shemuel 
 the Bethlehemite,' whose memory he has consecrated in one of 
 the most touching and deeply religious of his poems, ' he sat alone, 
 and waited ' till, ' touched by beckoning hands that led,' he died, 
 as he had lived, ' content.' i 
 
 He has left to Harrow many precious legacies ; but the most 
 precious of them all is the memory of himself.
 
 APPENDICES
 
 ESSAYS 
 I 
 
 My love has talked with rocks and trees ; 
 
 He finds on misty mountain-ground 
 
 His own vast shadow glory-crowned ; 
 He sees himself in all he sees. 
 
 In Memoriam, revii. 
 
 MAN'S nature is almost as obscure as his history, and in neither can 
 we classify the influences at work. But progress in the knowledge of 
 both is equally possible ; and, if rightly regarded, success in the unfolding 
 of history is no small encouragement to advance in the other direction. 
 Two distinct analogies exist between the two studies. In the first place, 
 both belong to that happy region of unpracticality which is brought as an 
 accusation against the less common of the two inquiries, and which 
 would seem to be a great element of all that is good for the mind. It 
 may be said of both alike, that whatever benefit they confer, success is 
 less important than its pursuit, and that all the advantages in any way 
 derivable from a whole life spent in either study is only after all indirect. 
 The other analogy observable is less easy to state, but not, I hope, less 
 useful to contemplate. It is this that the possibility of arriving at truth 
 is of the same order in both ; and when in considering man's moral and 
 intellectual nature we are discouraged by the reflection that no result 
 arrived at by a priori reasoning can be depended upon, and yet that no 
 result arrived at otherwise than by such reasoning seems worthy of the 
 greatness of the subject, and that when we lay down anything as dis- 
 covered, the infinite nature of this, as of every abstract question, seems to 
 demand that it should not be thus only, rather than in the opposite way 
 we may derive no small assurance from remembering that the same may 
 be said of historical research, while that in it, nevertheless, there are 
 undoubted facts, particular and one-sided, which are distinctly presented 
 to our understanding and must certainly be received and believed. 
 
 1 A College Prize Essay, 1857.
 
 264 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Considering then, firstly, that results arrived at in the investigation of 
 human character are possible, and, secondly, that they are useful, I pur- 
 pose, in the present essay, to examine in what way and how far the 
 character, and especially national character, is affected by the peculiarities 
 of natural scenery. And I may make the remark that the chief requisite 
 for this examination is honesty, and that no one, without making the 
 experiment, can possibly know how difficult it is to avoid confusing the 
 effect produced by the scenery of a country with that produced by its 
 physical peculiarities, which is of a distinct, though often hardly dis- 
 tinguishable, order. But candidly avowing the difficulty, I promise that 
 no confusion shall be intentionally made, and that the difficulty shall not 
 be increased l>y dishonesty of treatment. 
 
 In a national history much must always be allowed to chance. There 
 is danger in trying to explain everything, to impute motives too closely, 
 to define principles and assign causes too accurately. And so also in 
 treating of the nature of men, it is not possible to draw a map of the 
 country ; we can only do as they do at sea, let down the lead here and 
 there, establish certain tests of reference, and by them approximate to a 
 right result. If, then, we consider what the influence of scenery has been 
 in the direction of religion and religious imagery ; if we observe what root 
 it has taken in the language and literature of the people, and how readily 
 it enters into their associations of ideas, and notice its extent as far as we 
 can from simple experience, and the effect we ourselves usually feel this 
 will nearly exhaust our means of attaining to the truth of the question. 
 
 But before proceeding to illustrate particular influence by those 
 examples and comparisons which most prominently present themselves, 
 let us say a few words on character generally. The best character is an 
 union of habits all good. Imperfection lies in an union of several depra- 
 vities. Now, if this is allowed, and if it is allowed that we are all imper- 
 fect, we shall be in a position to prove that certain very common views of 
 the perfect character are erroneous. For it is the duty of everyone to 
 render his character good, by training each habit as nearly as possible to 
 perfection ; and if one is neglected for the purpose of improving another, 
 or one be allowed to overwhelm another, a breach of duty is committed. 
 But people commonly think otherwise, for they allow, and praise, and 
 recommend what is called a ruling passion which phrase implies not so 
 much one habit called forth into especial exercise by the force of outward 
 circumstances (a thing very different), but the actual predominance of 
 that habit in the mind. Thus also, acting upon impulse is praised, 
 especially if the choice be a right one ; and from the fact that whatever 
 is original generally pleases, we may safely infer that impulsiveness is, 
 with human nature, not the exception, but the rule. 
 
 To the reasoning which shows this to be wrong, it is no answer to 
 point to the actual fact that men always will, or (as it is said) must, have 
 for the most part ruling passions ; for that argument could only proceed 
 on the assumption that it is usual with men to have their characters 
 rightly regulated. The mind is complex, and the character grows around
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SCENEEY 265 
 
 it, and is shaped by those things which affect it, and it is necessary for all 
 feelings to play upon it in due proportion. Vigour of character is sup- 
 ported by alternation of passions, and toned by their regulation. What, 
 then, is to be said of Clarkson and Howard ? This : that partly one side 
 of their character may have shown more in relief, because we can never 
 know a man's whole nature, and only see how it acts upon historical cir- 
 cumstances with which we are familiar ; and partly that for the sake of 
 the great good they did, they sustained an injury of the moral nature, 
 which may have been greater or smaller, but which in some cases we can 
 certainly trace ; and sometimes it is interesting so to do. Assuming, then, 
 that a ruling passion is inconsistent with the human perfection of 
 character, we say that the true and best study of nature will tend to 
 remove ruling passions, will destroy impulsiveness, and substitute earnest- 
 ness, but that, man being imperfect and liable to alternations of feeling, 
 it is accordingly as he allows the various kinds of natural scenery to 
 encourage the feelings with which they are in every one connected, that 
 this character will experience a corresponding change. 
 
 In most nations the deepest feelings are connected with religion, 
 though less, perhaps, in the Teutonic than in some other races ; and thus 
 it is particularly interesting to observe what part scenery holds in filling 
 up the details of the pictures which different creeds present. It is 
 generally better to take broad and well-known instances than to deal 
 too much in particulars. Now, in most religious schemes a place of 
 future punishment holds a prominent position. Two notions in regard 
 to it have especially prevailed ; and it is remarkable that these depend, 
 not on race, but on geography. The southern nations are scorched by 
 the heat of the sun, love the shade, praise all that is cool as pleasant ; 
 day after day they see the clear sky, deep with blue, and reflecting the 
 glare and heat of the almost vertical sun ; see the dust raised and the 
 flowers drooping for want of shelter from its beams ; and accordingly 
 they can find no better expression for their ideas of extreme punishment 
 than flames of fire. Nor was any argument so powerful with the 
 missionaries who first preached Christianity in Mexico, as that which 
 they derived from being able to express this element of Christian doctrine 
 in imagery which, borrowed from the South, is ill adapted to our 
 temperate climate. On the contrary, the Northern Scandinavian of old, 
 as he looked out on his cheerless landscape, longed for the warmth 
 of the sun, clung to the fire, cursed the frost and snow, and his Hell was 
 icy and cold, and eternally dark and wintry. Another difference, too, 
 may be traced mainly to this influence of scenery. The Italian with his 
 wide views and clear horizon, or the Arab, whose prospect is an unbroken 
 expanse as far as the eye can see, loves the hollow valley and limited 
 landscape ; and so Hell with him is as wide as Heaven. The mytho- 
 logist of the North, on the other hand, encompassed in mountain and 
 mist, finds every landscape cramped ; and accordingly he imprisons his 
 demons. We remark, too, that in the future awards preference is given 
 to the manly character a distinctive feature in the northern regions ;
 
 266 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 the warrior, who perishes with arms in hand, will eat and drink northern 
 again for ever in Valhalla ; he who dies a natural death will, if not 
 very wicked, share the somewhat sparer diet of Hela. 
 
 Again, there is another feature that will enter largely into every 
 mythology. Every nation worships the powers of nature until it feels 
 itself able to cope with them ; then it raises them along with itself. 
 Here again we shall find two different types of natural powers reverenced. 
 Whether the Greek enjoyed his scenery in the same sense in which we 
 do, we will not now stop to dispute ; but whatever else he may have 
 felt on the subject of nature, he certainly sympathised with and loved 
 the rich vegetation of the land, the bursting forth of spring, the luxurious 
 development of vegetable life ; and Bacchus is, beyond question, the 
 popular god, and his vine the type of the feeling. The Greek never 
 loved the sun for warming himself, but felt gratitude for his warming 
 the trees and flowers. Then, again, we must remember what his feeling 
 was toward the mountains and rivers, which he peopled with gods and 
 nymphs ; it was one of complacent pride, with some slight fear to 
 impart a piquancy to the sentiment. And if utilitarianism had been all, 
 and he only liked Nature for the good she did him, we should find a 
 very different choice ; for navigation up the Peneus is impossible ; 
 Achelous is constantly injuring his own stream ; and Parnassus and 
 Taygetus are singularly ill adapted for the feeding of flocks. But if the 
 clear cool stream and the gloomy mountain top had no fascination what- 
 ever for his eyes, and if the expression of this in his religious legends had 
 no power over his heart, it is difficult to account for the extraordinary and 
 unparalleled popularity of those poets who most express the feeling 
 Homer, Euripides, Aristophanes. And what was the war cry of Salamis ? 
 In defence of what was the muster and the charge ? First their homes, 
 then the shrines of their gods, then the sepulchres of their fathers. 1 
 Not liberty, but the land. Perhaps the tone of all Greek philosophy, 
 too, which endeavoured to represent, rather than (like ours) to find the 
 truth, points the same way. The situation of Athens and Delphi, the 
 popular and often-recurring sentiment of indigenousness, the quiet sub- 
 mission to nature and to natural obstacles and barriers, are further 
 testimonies. And if the distinction is to be made at all, we may say that 
 the Greek loved nature more for its own sake, and more directly, than 
 most nations of whose feelings we are able to form a judgment. 
 
 But to return to the subject of religion. A tropical climate, with 
 rapid alternations of heat and cold, light and darkness, sunshine and 
 storm, is peculiarly adapted to suggest positive and negative poles of 
 goodness and power, opposite spirits of good and evil, in the universe. 
 The Indian mythological system may, in great part perhaps, be 
 
 1 <L iroTSes ' 
 IXtvOtpovrt irarpiS', 4\(v8(povTf Sf 
 ireuBaj, yvvaiicas, Qtiov rt irarptfuv t&ri, 
 (hJKas rf vpoy6vti>v. 
 
 S, Persa, 402-405.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SCENEEY 267 
 
 traced to this cause ; and without wishing to be hasty in general state- 
 ments, I think it will be found that an equable monotony, or at all events 
 a gradual variety of climate, is unfavourable to the idea of two opposite 
 deities. The Brahmin, Hottentot, the tribes toward the extremity of 
 South America, exposed to the sudden storm, the rapidly recurring heat, 
 the overpowering drought, the unexpected chill, develop this system of 
 theology most strongly. After them the ancient German, the Chinese, 
 the Persian, the North American Indian: while the Peruvian, the 
 Esquimaux, the Scandinavian, 1 whose climate is more subject to law and 
 order, worship more exclusively a mild and beneficent Power of Good. 
 In many other details, which we can trace in the gloomy ocean sur- 
 rounding gods and men, the ash tree sprinkled by the snow, the old 
 giants of frost and snow, who were before the world itself, the snake 
 encompassing the earth, and the adders with which the wicked will be 
 punished in that awful winter when the end approaches and the twilight 
 of the gods draws on, the Scandinavian mythology, which not improbably 
 symbolises the history of the race, bears a clear impression of the influence 
 of the scenery of the North. 
 
 Another method of comparison between different nations, with regard 
 to the influence we are considering, is afforded by their literature, and 
 the effect which it has upon the people : though still of their character we 
 can only form rude notions assisted by their history and statistics. 
 Literature, however, will only guide us in very few instances ; and we 
 are generally obliged to form an estimate on independent grounds. I 
 propose, therefore, not indeed to review in order the different nations of 
 which we know anything in ancient and modern times for this would be 
 long and very often afford no result but to consider in general terms 
 some few countries, in addition to those above touched upon, which offer 
 themselves prominently as tests, and to examine the character of the 
 people in the light thrown upon it by what we know of the scenery and 
 of their susceptibility to its distinctive features. Another comparison 
 might be made by a classification of the modes in which the influence 
 may work, as, for instance, into direct and reactionary : as we may say 
 that from looking upon a rock-bound coast, a gloomy barren climate and 
 the dark northern ocean surging upon the wintry shore, the inhabitant of 
 Norway derives a character of homeliness and hospitality which the 
 farmers of Holland derive from totally opposite causes. We should, how- 
 ever, find it hard to increase the categories in number impossible to 
 extend them to all the cases before us ; and we should probably lose sight 
 of what is more important, the influence itself, and the extent and causes 
 of its action. 
 
 1 Loki and the JEsir were not antagonistic principles of equal power, but simply 
 obnoxious gods; and though the consummation depends upon them, they do not 
 play a very prominent part in the mythology. With regard to the Peruvian system 
 it is not generally remembered that in the Zendavesta the opposing powers are 
 both subordinate to, and emanate from, the higher and previous ' Zemani, 1 illimited 
 and uncreated Time ; who created Ormuzd, the type of light and goodness, and, by a 
 quibble of the Persian sages, was said to permit the antagonistic Ahriman.
 
 268 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 On the question of Greek sensitiveness to scenery, I have already 
 touched, and ana not willing to enter further, as the subject is one which 
 has of late been much thrown open to discussion, only remarking, that 
 we shall find it hardly safe to create a distinct line of demarcation 
 between a love of the crops, and a love of the land which produces them ; 
 the admiration of blue sky, and the happiness arising from the fact that 
 it will not rain ; the delight in the Mediterranean, and in its power to 
 transport slaves and corn for these two sets of feelings will always be in 
 some degree connected, and one may very well preponderate hi a country 
 where people, not accustomed to literature and printing, hardly know how 
 to express their feelings. I pass on to consider what are the chief points 
 of difference in Italian and Greek scenery. First, there is less sea in the 
 former ; and, as a general rule (to which almost the only exception is the 
 coast of Campania), the sea coast forms in Italy the least striking land- 
 scape. The course of the rivers, especially the Anio, the Tiber, and the 
 Nar, the slopes of the hills covered with maple, chestnut, and flax, delicate 
 undulations, gentle brooks, rich orchards these are the chief beauties of 
 the Italian peninsula. The description of agricultural life, in the second 
 Georgic, is just the same that a Greek might have used, but it bears 
 clearly in some slight touches the stamp of Latin, not Greek, nature ; and 
 the same may be said of the picture of the old cottager Corycius in the 
 4th book. Now, if we take on one side the scenes of Greek relaxation 
 and enjoyment, which afford us as good a test as any, of their feelings 
 their Dionysia at spring time hi honour of the vine, village festivals 
 and dancing, with processions, Olympic games, Eleusinian mysteries, 
 theatre facing the Bay of Salamis, Corybantian revels on Cithseron and 
 contrast them with Horace's quiet, but substantial, dinners at Tibur or 
 the Sabine farm, with the cool Digentia rolling down the long valley close 
 at hand, or the bright Bandusia trickling down the hill among the rocks, 
 the sociable feast under the poplars and pines, served up by the farm 
 slaves (who themselves might sometimes share in the repast), in sight of 
 the flocks too on Lucretilis, and away from the noisy and smoky town, 
 but with perhaps a glimpse of it on its seven mighty hills, just to recall 
 the sovereignty and the iron will have we not here an excellent picture 
 at once of the scenery of Greece and Italy, and of the prominent difference 
 of Greek and Italian characters ? 
 
 Passing over the Germans, where solemn forests and mighty rivers 
 seem to have left as great an impression upon their character in the time 
 of Tacitus as in our own ; and the Britons of old, insular and conservative 
 in habits as in situation ; we come to the only nation of which we have, if 
 possible, clearer knowledge with regard to habits and character, than of 
 the Greeks and Romans. And this being, perhaps, the best example of 
 the effect of scenery in moulding a nation's habits of thought, we may 
 even go so far as to say, that no other cause seems to have had nearly so 
 great an influence as this over the Jewish mind. The history of the Jews, 
 and the whole thoughts and feelings of the nation, have ever been in a 
 Special manner bound up with the scenery of Palestine. To us the sub-
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SCENEEY 269 
 
 ject is an interesting one. Historical interest is universally connected 
 with local associations not unfrequently dependent upon them. The 
 lands, where the history of the world has been in an especial manner 
 transacted by chosen races in succession, will ever be full of a singular 
 charm in the eyes of those who inherit the birthright of the nations from 
 them. From the time when the patriarch first looked in hope and wonder 
 on the rich heathen land, to him now a land of promise, not only did 
 every mountain and valley and stream imprint themselves on the national 
 recollection, and mix themselves with every aspiration for a glorious 
 future in store, but they even seem, in the eyes of those who read history, 
 as though they were indeed consecrated to them for ever. Even in later 
 ages, all that can rouse human passions revenge, glory, religion has been 
 throughout Europe connected, nor yet is the feeling entirely extinct, with 
 the land which the Jew has lost. 
 
 But the nature of the Hebrew mind is one which, more than any 
 other, appears to dwell with peculiar delight upon national scenery, and 
 find a close relation between the event and the scene. Whether on the 
 weary desert to the promised conquest, or rioting in the fruitfulness of 
 their treasures, and the hope of years fulfilled ; whether fighting inch by 
 inch for its progression and recovery, with the heroism which lifts the 
 Maccabees to the level of the glorious of the earth, or, as now, outcast and 
 wandering and hoping again ; through every stage of the history, it has 
 been the land that has been uppermost in their thoughts the ' land flow- 
 ing with milk and honey,' the land as the garden of God Sion, Sharon, 
 Siloa, Lebanon. Did they preserve their ancient allegiance ? Then no 
 feast more hearty than the first-fruits, no sentiment more binding than 
 gratitude for the good land. Did they fall into the net of idolatry that 
 surrounded them ? Then under every high grove was an altar built. 
 Did they recover, and fight, and conquer ? They felt everything in nature 
 on their side and against their foes ; the winds and storms helped the 
 people of their choice ; ' the stars in their courses fought against Sisera.' 
 No lyric of praise but is full of the beauties of the land. No prophecy but 
 is stored with lessons and warnings derived from them. And no study, 
 we may add, is now so popular, and no investigation so prolific, as that 
 which connects the thoughts and words, the history and imagery, of 
 Scripture with the very rocks and valleys and springs themselves in 
 Palestine. 
 
 An interesting investigation is opened to us by this tendency, so 
 peculiarly developed in the Hebrew mind. We are led to consider 
 whether, and how far, civilisation is antagonistic to the influence of 
 natural scenes, and what effect Christianity has, either in itself or 
 regarded as the law of morality. We have seen that the Jew is subject 
 most strongly to the influence, so strongly indeed that his case might 
 almost be considered alone. But we may, in treating of the Jewish 
 mind, confuse several influences. In the first place, the Theocracy placed 
 the loyal Jew and the whole nation on a completely different footing from 
 the rest of the ancient world. The chief effect was to give a high
 
 270 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 objective tendency to the national thoughts. Other nations, more 
 civilised, introduced refinements into religion, found few elevated asso- 
 ciations in material facts and things, taught spirituality ; and rarely shall 
 we find a religion in any way elaborate that is not more spiritual than 
 the Jewish. But the genuine internal theocratic sentiment placed even 
 things on a higher base than the loftiest ground to which the heathen 
 idea could exalt itself. The direct guidance of the Divine Spirit ennobled 
 the practical government, the practical life, the ceremony, the rubric, the 
 land itself. This elevation of the objective in the mind of the Jew leaves 
 the clearest impress upon the literature of the people. Artistic ability 
 directed towards what is external in their writings seems to have been, 
 not so much out of their power, as to have been felt out of place, useless, 
 unnecessary ; and it is the inner subject-matter upon which the attention 
 is concentrated. When other historians would have taken pains to make 
 a readable narrative, we find compilations, extracts, land-rolls, catalogues. 
 The matter, the truth, is the highest concern. The writer is not so much 
 the master of his production as its servant. 1 
 
 This tendency, while it shows in a stronger light how powerful the 
 influence of the scenery thus elevated and rendered worthy of a place in 
 the sacred books must have been, enables us to judge more accurately of 
 the effect of civilisation. Civilisation presents two chief aspects with 
 regard to its influence on the nation subjectivity and morality. The 
 Jews were, as I have just endeavoured to show, almost entirely unsub- 
 jective from the high reasons which the Theocracy gave them, and 
 especially so when the theocratic idea was most vivid ; it is therefore 
 through the morality which civilisation is usually supposed to bring that 
 its influence must work. From a comparison of other nations, however, 
 it seems very much more reasonable to assign, as the prime agent, not 
 civilisation at all of itself, but Christianity. Nor indeed ought we to be 
 surprised to see what professes to be an universal religion bringing those, 
 over whom it exercises an influence, into closer connection with nature. 
 Nor will it be thought unnatural that this should find a peculiarly strong 
 expression in Judaism, the only religion of the ancient world which was 
 based upon the recognition of the existence and life of God in relation to 
 the existence and life of the creature, and thus itself also contained this 
 same feature of universality. On the whole, we are justified in saying 
 as in fact the common experience of all will confirm, and as the etymology 
 of the word might almost seem to suggest that civilisation, in the common 
 
 1 This is nowhere more marked than in the Judaic cosmogony, quite peculiar as 
 it is in the main idea of a creation and the absolute derivation of nature from God, 
 and opposed fco the heathen mythologies of which Pantheism was the highest 
 attempt. ' The history of the creation,' it has been remarked, ' has just this 
 peculiar distinction, that it handles its theme neither in an abstract form nor from a 
 subjective point of view, but in the method of concrete historical treatment, thus 
 rendering the abstract and the subjective possible, as to their fundamental idea as 
 well as its historical representation, while it disclaims identity with them.' (Haver- 
 nick On the Pentateuch, 16.)
 
 THE INFLUENCE OP SCENEEY 271 
 
 and limited sense of the word, is of little help (if it be not rather detri- 
 mental) to the understanding and appreciation of nature. 1 
 
 Let us now turn from the ancient to the modern world. Of nations, 
 comparatively modern, an excellent field for the contrast of scenery, and 
 consequent contrast of character with which, however, physical influ- 
 ences have much to do is found in the southern continent of the New 
 World. 
 
 The forests toward the north of this region terminate, somewhat 
 abruptly, about the line of the Orinoco River, and are succeeded by a 
 totally different species of country. Southward are the central savannahs 
 of the Apure and Amazon, the boundless, trackless plains, with not an 
 elevation of any kind as far as the eye can reach, stretching out in one 
 unbroken landscape for thousands of miles ; few rivers, no trees ; but one 
 vast interminable table-land from the Amazon to Buenos Ayres, from 
 Pernambuco to the Andes. Here there wander the Guachos wandered 
 rather, for civilisation is fast encroaching the nomad shepherds of South 
 America ; savage tribes, indolent in habit, though energetic in desires, 
 ferocious, wild, and independent. Even their language is energetic, 
 rough, and impassioned. Beyond them, in the far South, are the hardy, 
 fierce, and intractable people who inhabit the cold, sterile, pine-clad plains 
 of Patagonia. On the north and east of the Orinoco, on the other hand, 
 there dwell, in fixed and settled homes, nations, mild, industrious, easily 
 governed, and easily moulded by European customs, and devoted to the 
 pursuits of agriculture : the tones of their language are mild and 
 melodious, and its nature copious and artificial. Now what are the 
 pictures of nature amongst which these latter tribes are reared ? Do 
 these daily look forth on dismal plains, a blank horizon, and wild track- 
 less pampas ? We have only to read some traveller's description of the 
 country in order to picture to ourselves what the character of the people 
 must be. The rivers, clear and rapid, clothed to the very brink with 
 luxurious robes of flowers and leaves ; islands, hidden from head to 
 foot in creepers of exquisite brilliancy and diversity ; cataracts, in the foam 
 of which a thousand varying rainbows ever play ; never a cloud to dim 
 the burning sky, never a breeze to fan the motionless leaf; and then the 
 forest, with trees two hundred feet, or more, in height ; a growth of 
 underwood so thick that the paths of the wild beasts seem like arches cut 
 in a solid masonry of leaves ; creepers rising above it nearly to the 
 height of the tallest trees ; a rich alluvial mould ; the cries of beasts, and 
 
 1 Cf . Ovid's sentiment : 
 
 1 Prisca juvent alios ; ego nunc me denique natum 
 
 Gratulor ; hsec setas moribus apta meis : 
 Non quia 
 
 Sed quia cultus adest ; nee nostros mansit in annos 
 Eusticitas priscis ilia superstes avis.' 
 
 Where, though rusticitas may simply mean the opposite to urbanitas, the word is 
 nevertheless significant.
 
 272 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 i 
 
 the song of the birds, never for a moment ceasing one wild exuberance 
 of life and vegetation. This is the home of the nations of the North- 
 East. Can we wonder that when we come to the very tropics them- 
 selves, to the very richest of the rich landscape, to New Grenada, and the 
 Mexican Gulf, there are indolence and luxury, and in consequence 
 oppression and cruelty and crime ? 
 
 A similar difference might be traced though in point of geography it 
 is not quite so clearly marked in the northern continent, taking for our 
 example, on the one side, the country from the Mississippi westward 
 toward the Rocky Mountains ; and on the other, its eastern bank and the 
 rich tracts, noisy with life, and luxuriant with vegetable growth, which 
 extend to the lower Alleghany range. In fact, throughout the United 
 States of America, the well-known distinctions of character proceed 
 exactly in accordance with the nature of the country. In the East and 
 North the healthy English scenery of Vermont and New Hampshire, with 
 sandy promontories and granite rocks, the fir, the beech, the laurel, and 
 the clearings of the forest pointing to the hand of industry ; and the 
 population sober, cheerful, money-making, inventive, and democratic. 
 Thence to the land of the palm, the plane, and the poplar, the warmer 
 district about the Alleghany Hills, Virginia, and the Carolinas, an inter- 
 mediate race in point of disposition ; and after we have passed the blue 
 hills of Tennessee, still keeping southwards, east of the Mississippi, and 
 entered the region of prolific life, the clear rivers and lovely valleys of 
 Georgia and Alabama, clothed with magnolia, rhododendron, and azalia 
 here we find equal Anglo-Saxon enterprise, it is true, but personal 
 indolence, extreme pride, fierceness, and luxury, are the chief features of 
 the disposition. 
 
 With regard to the feature of close proximity on these alternations 
 of character dependent on the phases of nature, another no less remark- 
 able field of observation would be afforded by Asia, were it not that other 
 causes combine to render the Asiatic character more uniform. There, 
 nevertheless, tribe after tribe appears to change with the soil and climate 
 where the elevated steppes of Tartary and the arid deserts of Arabia 
 touch, as it were, the fertile plains of Mesopotamia and Armenia ; the 
 orderly Chinese are harassed by the restless mountaineers of Thibet ; and 
 the rocky home of the ruthless Afghan borders on the rice fields of the 
 patient Hindoo. 
 
 In Europe the Swiss character is one which has always been appealed 
 to as presenting, more than any other, a reflex of the features of 
 the country. That independence, energy, domesticity, and cheerfulness 
 are the natural productions of the mountains, lakes, and glaciers, has 
 been usually taken for granted; and Switzerland is the prominent 
 type of the influence. But it has been lately said, that as a matter of 
 fact the mass of the Swiss really care little for their scenery; partly, 
 perhaps, that they are too accustomed to its beauties, partly that 
 they have no appreciation of what is usually considered the pic- 
 turesque. Certainly the influence might very well be unconsciously
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SCENEEY 273 
 
 exercised, and their recognition of it is not indispensable in order to 
 enable us to form a judgment upon it. But unless a large number of 
 instances and a comprehensive view of their history were adduced in 
 support of the view, we are hardly driven to the hypothesis. It is true 
 as all proverbs in some measure are that familiarity induces indifference ; 
 but it is equally true that indifference in such a case is not the natural 
 feeling, but is imposed upon a subsoil of real feeling by the force of cir- 
 cumstance in this case the circumstance of remaining long in one spot. 
 If we wish for a proof of the effect which such scenery can produce on 
 great intellects, and what attraction it has for them, we have the cluster 
 of illustrious names which are connected with the shores of the Lake of 
 Geneva Calvin and Knox, Voltaire and Gibbon, Rousseau, Stael, Byron, 
 Kemble. 1 But change of scenery (as of occupation) is good, and even 
 essential, for the mind ; and this, being simply a law of nature, has no 
 particular reference to an individual form of country. Motion through 
 pleasant scenes certainly produces different sensations from a quiet 
 enjoyment of them, both being good ; whether the effect of the former be 
 a complacent admiration limited to the individual himself, or that 
 exquisite feeling of universal benevolence, which can only be imparted by 
 love, opium, or a walk before breakfast. 
 
 That the effect of their scenery, however, upon the Swiss is a conscuras 
 one, we have the testimony of every traveller who has written upon the 
 country, and every historian who has searched their annals ; nor is their 
 history deficient in such proofs from the time when the men of Schwytz 
 first resisted the imperial power, for their ' pastures, hills, and plains,' to 
 the late wars when the ' Eanz des Vaches ' was utterly prohibited the 
 army, because the simple pastoral air induced such home-sickness that 
 the soldiers deserted from their ranks. 
 
 It is usually supposed at all events usually stated that in Holland 
 there is no scenery. Nevertheless, whenever the Dutchman looks abroad 
 upon the country, there must be something to meet the eye. Let us con- 
 sider what this will usually be. A multitude of corn fields and grazing 
 meadows in about equal proportion in the first place ; cattle in proportion 
 to the meadows ; ancient windmills ; long straight canals, bordered by 
 orderly rows of trees, a towing-path, with mud banks, and in the distance, 
 barges, gules, with yellow sails, and collier hoys, proper ; and this being 
 all, his eye will naturally fall back upon the warm farmhouse, built as 
 
 1 The claim of the mountains to religious, literary, and artistic pre-eminence is 
 discussed and, with regard to the two last points, satisfactorily in the last chapter 
 of Euskin's fourth volume. With regard to religion, his remarks on the individual 
 sentiment are hardly borne out by the facts with regard to the national creed, so 
 that we have less a test of the influence historically, than an example of its modify- 
 ing power, which is dependent on the nature of the belief already existing. In the 
 one case the matter is supplied, and in the other the form. And his view of the 
 harshness of Northern art is far from being of universal application. Thus contrast 
 the Hindoo and the Russian. I have above endeavoured to trace the difference 
 another way. 
 
 T
 
 274 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 securely, comfortably, and unostentatiously, as farmhouses in Holland and 
 England only are. The only variety will lie in memory ; and this will 
 probably be the recollection of last week's visit to the town, with its timber 
 yards and great wooden wharfs. Or if he live near the sea, he will look 
 with half fear, half pride, perhaps at the wonderful works of man which 
 shut out the terrible ocean ; embankments, where one day's intermission 
 of care, one foot of encroachment unheeded, may swamp a province, and 
 broad lakes where the waves have long since claimed their territory again. 
 And with this to look at every day, what can the Dutch character be, 
 but patience, order, industry, vigilance, frugality, itself ? 
 
 Mores, quos ante gerebant, 
 
 ' Nunc quoque habent, parcumque genus, patiensque laborum, 
 Qufflsitique tenax, et quas qusesita reservent.' 
 
 We shall not find the fire and energy of the French or English character ; 
 no lofty spirit, no high aspirations ; but honesty, freedom, religion, sys- 
 tem, humanity, love of home. And so, too, the heroism of Holland is the 
 heroism of constancy ; and the sieges of Haarlem and Leyden and 
 the repulse of Louis XIV. are the most brilliant passages in the narrative 
 of the many vicissitudes of the nation. And when, after long and patient 
 suffering under the domination of the French Republic, and injuries that 
 would have exasperated any other people into madness, the Government 
 was restored, how noble, and at the same time how worthy of the inhabi- 
 tants of Holland, is the spectacle which meets us. No wholesale massacre, 
 no vindictive punishments inflicted, no tear shed, save of joy ; simply 
 the Government restored, the old system once more set on foot. 
 
 Of the influence of our own scenery on ourselves, it is difficult to 
 speak. Certainly the influence is increasing. Since the day when the 
 sentiment 
 
 The proper study of mankind is man 
 
 was first clearly enunciated by Pope, it has daily been less and less believed 
 that it is the only proper study. The poetry of Wordsworth and Cowper 
 had, no doubt, much to say to this change of feeling ; and the modern 
 poets still do much to sustain it, and, even now, Pope is less read than 
 Sir Walter Scott, Byron than Tennyson. Perhaps, as we noticed above, 
 a better acquaintance with Christianity, and a higher tone of morality, 
 contribute to increase the influence of natural scenes ; and in proportion 
 as a nation becomes more and more imbued with Christian principles, it 
 would seem to follow as a fit consequence that nature should possess in 
 its eyes more and more interest. The material will never be despised by 
 one who finds in the existing world a close connection with the spiritual ; 
 or are we not even right in saying, that the very lesson of Christmas 
 itself may teach the world that the material is not necessarily evil ? At 
 all events, whether or not we sympathise with nature, do we not in 
 almost every word of greater than ordinary feeling call upon nature to 
 sympathise with us? Is not the 'pathetic fallacy' bound up in our
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SCENEEY 275 
 
 minds indissolubly ? And must not, again, almost every action of more 
 than ordinary interest have a scene of its own ? Have Salamis and 
 Waterloo no charm in our eyes ? Have Bethany and Nazareth no vivid 
 interest ? And the case is the same if we come to our own experience. 
 We think with strong and intense feeling of the chamber where some 
 friend died ; the house where this or that fate was pronounced ; the tree, 
 or bridge, or door, where one companion left us for ever, or where we met 
 some other for the first time. The scene is as well remembered as the 
 fact ; so that even in imagination this is so ; and the most skilfully drawn 
 picture often pleases less, because the accompanying features fail to 
 correspond with the ideas we had formed before. And often, too, it is the 
 scene that forms half the interest of an episode, as Tennyson has many 
 times shown. We care little for a dying swan ; but when that swan is 
 dying lonely, gloomily, at evenfall, and breathing out its last song in 
 misery only to the dark pools of the Maeander, then we do care much, and 
 wonder whether Ovid can have seen it himself. 
 
 It is partly this association with events, partly a pure son-like feeling 
 of affection, that contributes mainly to the sentiment which, on a small 
 scale, we call love of home, on a larger, love of country. This abstract 
 affection is perhaps one of the highest points of mental refinement. Love 
 of a thing is a human instinct ; love of an idea is a human instinct too, but 
 an elevated one ; and its possibility a consoling reflection, for it assures us of 
 its own reality. ' Tell me, O dear youth, do men love those things which 
 are, or those things which are not ? ' And therefore the passion is also a 
 good one, and it is our duty to help others to attain to it, being well assured 
 that the individual mind prospers from enlargement of its scope, and all 
 from fellow-feeling and community of direction, and that national life can 
 never flourish without a large measure of national self-consciousness. 
 
 Nor must we forget some more solemn influences of scenery. The 
 gorgeous colours and indescribable distance of a summer sunset, the best 
 and most elevating picture of the infinity which, in great scenery, is not 
 merely a form of speech or custom-sanctioned method of abbreviating 
 the expression of a system of feelings hard to describe, but a real and 
 almost tangible truth ; the deep conscience-suggesting silence of the fields 
 and woods, and this more impressive perhaps than the thunder there 
 was silence in heaven when the final seal was opened ; the wholesome 
 unostentatious repose, which can hardly exist elsewhere ; the confirmation 
 we somehow derive from the contemplation of nature of that most 
 precious possession of modern philosophy, that of which Protestantism is 
 but the expression in theological language, the absoluteness of individual 
 existence ; these are some of the things which help the mind. And the 
 mind needs the help, and is moreover adequate to receive it. For high 
 and good as nature is, our souls can nearly reach it even now ; and in 
 this it is true, as it is in climbing the hillside it is good to consider that 
 most, which we have just not attained to. And if we penetrate one step 
 deeper still into the inner life of nature, another and more mysterious 
 sympathy meets us there ; for we learn, and need not be slow to believe, 
 
 T 2
 
 276 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 that Nature herself, somehow, waits upon man, and that upon some 
 glorious future development of his destinies is dependent the ' earnest 
 expectation of the creature.' 
 
 In truth, he who loves nature must indeed have an element of good 
 hi him; and none but holy influences may ever arise from the inter- 
 course. There walked once, the story says, by the side of a river, a man 
 armed for the murder of another, and by chance half an hour must elapse 
 before the opportunity came. For half an hour, at noon, on a summer's 
 day and amid the song of the birds, the murderer lay in the meadow 
 among the flowers. Half an hour of love, and sunlight, and quiet beauty 
 pitted against malice and cruelty. In the end, he who lay there went 
 home again, subdued only by the holiness of nature almost maddened 
 by the struggle, but nevertheless subdued. This then is the best study 
 of nature without disrespect to botany to lie among flowers. And how 
 innocent and wholly good is the enjoyment ; and how different the 
 eternal outlines from the passing fashions of other things, and how full 
 of warnings to be earnest, and to trust in simple earnestness ! And here 
 is the crown of the good we have from the fields ; that nowhere else but 
 under the blue sky abroad have we ever singleness of purpose, neither in 
 art, nor study, nor the human heart. And what a fall it is from the 
 reality to the fancy ! How much the view, which our eyes see, is better to 
 the moral sense, than that which the brain creates ! It is landscape 
 painting alone which can avoid the difficulty, which is the great problem 
 of the artistic philosophy of the day how that which is evil can ever 
 fitly enter into a work of Art. 1 And now, accordingly, in our landscapes 
 we are beginning to feel ourselves more and more driven towards truth ; 
 we reject conventional ideas, and copy the trees and clouds as they are ; 
 not, as the popular author 3 says, introducing as much beauty as is 
 consistent with truth, but as much fact as our limited understandings 
 render us capable of harmonising with our limited views of beauty. 
 
 But we have not yet exhausted our tests of the hold which scenery 
 has upon various national minds. We have, in the first place, another 
 influence at work upon nations, with which we can safely compare it. 
 This may be illustrated by a now well-known analogy. We are appalled 
 by the consideration of our small ness and the smallness of our world, 
 when we hear of the vastness of the universe ; but we are, in some 
 measure, restored by reflecting that the scale of man's insignificance is 
 the same in reference to tune as to space. So also the effect upon a 
 people, which the recollection of their past history has, will help us to 
 appreciate better, though hardly to express in words, the effect of the 
 other cause which we have been considering. Like it, the history of the 
 past of glories, and reverses, and vicissitudes, and abuses, and reforms, 
 of countrymen good and great, of national institutions founded, and, with 
 
 1 Rio, Poetry of Christian Art. 
 3 Raskin.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OP SCENEEY . 277 
 
 them, the seeds of decay these are all before the mind, represented 
 always if not always vivid, at hand if not apparent. 
 
 And the two influences are of very much the same kind. There is the 
 same solemn earnest presence, not intrusive, but still real and indisput- 
 able. And it is not the less so because it is not always, or often, appealed 
 to. The Swiss boatman does not think much about the beauty of his 
 mountains, nor does the English yeoman often fall back on Waterloo ; 
 but it is good for each that each is there ; and when appealed to, it seldom 
 fails of effect. 
 
 We may see in yet another way, if we choose to examine, how this 
 influence acts. Physically, action and reaction are equal and opposite ; 
 morally, they are similar and reproductive. Let us examine, then, in 
 one or two instances, whether the creation of scenery, where that is 
 possible, answers to the character in different nations or no. And here I 
 purposely abstain from taking into account the creation of scenery upon 
 canvas in various schools of art, having come to the conclusion that, how- 
 ever interesting might be the comparison of celebrated masters of painting 
 belonging to different countries with regard to the background of their 
 pieces, and however we might seem at first sight to approximate to a 
 general law, yet that this is so dependent upon the particular taste of the 
 artist, upon his age, and the composition of the piece, that we should be 
 hardly justified in proceeding to general results from the instances, 
 especially with such small materials as it is possible to obtain for the 
 inquiry. I may just remark that the increase of landscape painters and 
 of the estimation in which they are held in England, compared with their 
 decrease in France, may possibly be a slight indication of the tendencies 
 of the age in both countries. An apology is almost necessary for descend- 
 ing from the high ground of art to a subject so simple as that of 
 national gardening ; but this, in reality, is an excellent standard by which 
 to estimate the effect which the scenery of the country has produced, not 
 only upon the individual, but the nation. 
 
 First, we have the Italian style. Modern Italy is a country in which 
 the influence of strictly natural scenery is not much felt, but the pictu- 
 resque finds itself associated with art and humanity. The Italian, of the 
 North especially, gazes habitually on towers and palaces, statues and 
 cathedrals ; and even nature itself is more largely moulded by the hand 
 of man than in any other land. This artificial character is manifested 
 in the Italian style of gardening (or Italo-French, our neighbours having 
 borrowed it) to a degree at which every true Englishman must shudder. 
 We have one or more terraces, usually supported by elaborate parapet-walls ; 
 on the copings of tBese will be found displayed vases of beauty and research; 
 in fit and proper places are jets d'eau and ponds of symmetrical shape, 
 and here and there a creeper endeavours to climb up a stone erection 
 built for the purpose barbarous thought ! not the creeper for the wall, 
 but the wall for the creeper. Every bed is of the most elegant arrange- 
 ment, and, if possible, rectangular ; around them are box edgings, high
 
 278 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 indeed, but painfully neat. A tree or two, but not over many, will here 
 and there be judiciously disposed with a view to effect, and outside, 
 perhaps, parterres evidencing an intricate knowledge of geometry. Such 
 monuments of cultivated taste are the public gardens of Brussels, for 
 example ; whether in them, or in the Great Sahara, it would be pleasanter 
 to pass one's days, is a matter of doubt. 
 
 Next, the Dutch style, which we might guess from the character. 
 Not quite so much elegance, no terraces, no architecture, but, if possible, 
 more geometry, with a little of what we might almost imagine humour, 
 but which is in reality decorum ; a clear eye to comfort, and a kind of 
 clumsy homeliness. Formality and rectangularity are at their height in 
 this garden ; square and oblong flower beds, each devoted to one flower 
 alone, abut on arcades of severely clipped yew or holly ; hexagonal fish 
 ponds are commanded by prismatic summer-houses. Even the poplars, 
 row by row, are trained into pyramids, save only where, in excess of 
 zeal, or it may be near some favourite point of view, one triply painted 
 trunk is made to support a square-cut mass of foliage. And then there is 
 the terrible uniformity the same by which whitewashed walls are said to 
 drive prisoners mad. We long to have an unexpected change ; we would 
 give anything to be astonished, surprised but no I There is the dismal 
 and crushing certainty that, knowing the shape of one row or bed, we 
 must infallibly know also what is the shape of the contiguous one. But 
 yet the quaint antiquity of the whole, and the humorous clipped yew 
 trees, almost reconcile us to the prospect. Such is the Dutch style of 
 gardening. 
 
 In England we prefer, roughly speaking, to imitate nature. We allow 
 a little variety. We take a little instruction from our own hills and fields. 
 The English eye is not very sensitive as regards colour ; nor, for our own 
 landscapes, has it need to be ; nor do we usually devote much attention 
 to colour in our gardens, neglecting the flowers for the sake of the shrubs 
 and the general effect, which we wish to be the same as that of the 
 beautiful parts of English country scenery. Accordingly we expend little 
 labour on straightening the gravel walks ; we give it instead to the rock- 
 work and the creepers. We have many trees to give an aspect of solidity, 
 arbours for comfort, great gates and walls for protection. In short, if in 
 our own gardens English character is not to be seen, it is hopeless to look 
 for it anywhere. 
 
 I feel loth to quit the subject of this essay without one or two remarks 
 of present application, which the inquiry seems to suggest. We are 
 becoming more and more practical every day, and usually we glory in so 
 becoming. Civilisation is looked upon not as a means but an end ; the 
 study of nature, not an end but a means. And in the pursuit of truth 
 the same spirit is shown ; and to discover is placed on a far higher level 
 than to represent. Here therefore the calm face of Nature, which speaks 
 to us by the mere looking on her, might do much towards restoring the 
 balance of the mind. The man who spends all his life and energies in
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SCENEEY 279 
 
 work, and works well and successfully too, may yet die without having 
 learnt enough. 
 
 That low man seeks a little thing to do, 
 
 Sees it, and does it ; 
 
 This high man, with a great thing to pursue, 
 Dies ere he knows it. 
 
 And it does not necessarily follow that the effect of science and of its 
 pursuit is bad ; on the contrary, the knowledge of nature and form of 
 things is a great help towards receiving the lessons they teach ; and here, 
 as universally, the cultivation of taste gives the power. But we must not 
 forget that the cultivation is for the sake of the power ; that the lesson 
 taught is, after all, the great thing. And so, too, in our action on others. 
 He has done most who establishes a truth ; but he has done much who 
 impresses a principle. 
 
 And this leads us towards another subject which appears to be forced 
 upon us by the consideration of the effect of scenery on a nation's 
 character the education of the people by means of the senses. We 
 acknowledge its utility with regard to ourselves, but till lately have some- 
 what neglected it, in the case of the lower orders of the people. We may 
 feel some jealousy of Crystal Palaces and weekly holidays ; but we should 
 not feel too much. There are many things we can never teach by books ; 
 the benefit of goodness is one of them; the cultivation of thought is 
 another ; and here nature will help us. And perhaps through the senses 
 it will be easier and more acceptable to impart the teaching we desire ; 
 and not merely instruct but educate the people. In short, we may reach 
 the character by the eye and ear ; we may learn ourselves, and make our 
 people learn, as the child learns first by his picture book, then by the 
 garden and meadows, then by the great world around him.
 
 280 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 II 
 
 THE FOECE OF HABIT 
 
 CONSIDEEED AS AN ARGUMENT TO PROVE THE MORAL 
 
 GOVERNMENT OF MAN BY GOD l 
 
 Ita dico, Lucili, sacer intra nos spiritus sedet, malorum bonorumque nostrorum 
 observator et custos. Hie prout a nobis tractatns est, ita nos ipse tractat. 
 
 SENECA, Ep, xli. 
 
 I. HABIT, THE FACULTY OR PROPERTY 
 
 AN inquiry into the nature of the laws which connect the faculties of 
 man with his duties, and indicate a special adaptation of the one to the 
 other, is exposed to two considerable difficulties. One, that it is almost 
 impossible distinctly to classify the influences at work upon the human 
 will, to define accurately what part of the constitution may be considered 
 as bearing directly upon the moral nature, and what part only mediately ; 
 and hence to distinguish between subject and object in any relation that 
 may be considered. The other difficulty is this : that we are liable to 
 serious obstacles, if not manifold errors, in the attempt to recognise 
 which portion of the phraseology employed by the sacred writers to illus- 
 trate these relations is to be accepted as dogmatic, and which to be 
 understood as merely a system of convenient and intelligible symbols. 
 That there is in the Epistles, for example, a basis of positive teaching 
 with regard to the mental economy of man, and the relations of each part 
 of it to the Divine influences, cannot be doubted ; but the more we examine 
 this, the more we shrink from asserting at what point such teaching 
 ceases, and the current of apostolic doctrine unites with the kindred 
 stream of independent research. 
 
 We have, then, two cautions to be observed in entering upon the sub- 
 ject. We must not venture to consider as solved the problems upon which 
 philosophy is still at work ; and we must not claim too hastily corrobora- 
 tions of metaphysical results from the words used by the sacred writers. 
 But it is well to remember that we have also encouragements. The his- 
 tory of man is no less obscure than his nature ; but progress can be made 
 in the knowledge of both ; and, if rightly regarded, success in the unfold- 
 ing of history is no small encouragement to advance in the other direction 
 also. For in both studies the possibility of arriving at truth is of the 
 same order; and when, in considering man's moral and intellectual 
 nature, we are discouraged by the reflection that no result arrived at by 
 
 1 The Burney Prize Essay, 1858.
 
 THE FORCE OF HABIT 281 
 
 a priori reasoning can be surely depended upon, and yet that no result 
 arrived at otherwise than by such reasoning seems worthy of the great- 
 ness of the subject; and that when we lay down anything as discovered, 
 the infinite nature of this, as of every abstract question, seems to demand 
 that it should not be thus only, rather in the opposite way ; we may 
 derive no small assurance from remembering that the same may be said 
 of historical research ; and that in it, nevertheless, there are undoubted 
 facts, particular and one-sided, which are distinctly presented to our 
 understanding, and must certainly be received and believed. 
 
 Considering, then, that in such investigations results are both possible 
 and useful, I propose in the first place to inquire into the nature of habit 
 as a property or faculty of human nature. This will involve an inquiry 
 as to whether it is partial or general, and whether variable or uniform in 
 kind ; whether accordingly it is to be considered as a mere quality, or has 
 rather the appearance of a law specially imposed for a designed end. 
 "Without fully entering into the important question of design, we shall 
 infer its application in the present instance from the evidence that we 
 find. The next attempt will be, to expand this law so discovered in the 
 human constitution into a general law of nature ; of which if it appears 
 that the law of habit is a department, it will follow that the results arrived 
 at with regard to the part will have a further reference to the whole ; and 
 it will then only be necessary to apply our results to the conceptions we 
 succeed in forming of the moral government of God upon earth, in order 
 to perceive the bearings of the faculty of habit as regards the legislative 
 and judicial functions of that government. The conclusion will be dependent 
 for its logical force upon the first portion of our investigation, and for its 
 breadth and largeness of application on the expansion which we may 
 succeed in giving it in the second. 
 
 Habit is the effect of a species of memory upon the will and feelings. 
 It may be conscious or unconscious ; it may be positive or negative ; may 
 tend to stimulate or to deaden. But it is questionable whether there is 
 an element of the human constitution in which its influence is not felt. 
 The action of yesterday on to-day, not only in tangible results, but in the 
 modifications which each mental or physical phase reflects upon ourselves, 
 seems to run through the whole course of our nature. 
 
 Now, if we were to consider this influence simply as universal in our 
 nature, without further inquiring into the various kinds of action which it 
 involves ; if we were to be content with the avowal that such an opera- 
 tion is constantly manifested, and neglected to examine its different 
 aspects ; we should have indeed a ground of much interesting reflection, 
 and an occasion foi: a sermon large and suggestive, but we should fail to 
 observe the dignity and beauty of the law which the faculty involves. 
 We should not see that through its whole action can be traced a twofold 
 character, which, regarded as interesting for its own sake, or as illustra- 
 tive also of the method of the Divine government of the world, seems 
 abundantly worthy of a more careful study. 
 
 We will in the first place, then, direct our attention to the physical
 
 282 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 frame of man, and trace in it the operation of habit ; and will afterwards 
 turn to his moral nature, and observe whether similar results are there 
 found. Now the body may be considered, generally, as capable of action 
 and passion. With regard to some things it is affected from within, with 
 regard to others from without. One set of agencies are dependent upon 
 the will, the other upon sensation. What, then, is the effect of habit 
 upon the former of these two classes ? Obviously that of strengthening 
 the powers of action. We need not travel far for illustration. The child 
 that is trained to outdoor exercise will have a more active frame than 
 that which is kept at home. The man who plies the ferry-boat soon 
 learns to ply it without wearying. The mother who carries the infant 
 can carry it more easily than its father. Thus on physical actions which 
 involve the will, the action of habit is positive. We must remember, 
 however, that there are those which do not immediately involve the will. 
 Some, of course, are purely unconscious from the beginning, and of these 
 we need not speak, since they are evidently remote from the province of 
 habit, and in fact form an integral portion of our bodily constitution ; 
 such, for instance, are the beating of the heart and the action of the 
 lungs. But there are others not, indeed, according to the chief authori- 
 ties, divided from these by a very broad line 1 which, though unconscious, 
 yet depend originally upon consciousness ; actions in which the force of 
 habit is most evidently seen and most often observed. It is clear that 
 the effect in the case of these is similar to that in the case of conscious 
 actions tending, namely, to confirm the operative power, or, as we shall 
 call it, positive. 
 
 The physical feelings, on the other hand, seem to indicate a directly 
 contrary effect of habit. Here we have not, of course, the subdivision of 
 conscious or unconscious ; since consciousness is the essence of feeling ; 
 and it is in fact upon this consciousness, as we saw in a different way 
 just now, that the force of habit acts. Is it, then, a positive or negative 
 effect ? Does it stimulate or blunt the feelings? The common language 
 of men certainly points in this latter direction : we speak of a sufferer 
 inured to pain, a palate dead to sweets. And all our experience confirms 
 this language. It may indeed be argued that the hand of a blind person, 
 accustomed to rely for almost all perceptions on the touch, acquires a far 
 more sensitive discrimination of shape than before, and an ear versed in 
 music will detect varieties in tone which to another will appear not to 
 exist ; but it is essential to observe that in neither of these cases, nor in 
 any involving active discrimination, have we to deal with the pure sense 
 of feeling ; in the second of the two instances, indeed, the will is largely 
 involved ; and into both the judgment enters, and removes them from the 
 domain of mere sensation. This faculty of judgment we shall have to 
 consider hereafter ; but here we must distinctly remember that in such 
 cases as the above the phenomenon is not so much the repeated action of 
 the same things upon the nerves, as of the same nerves on the reflecting 
 powers. If two persons, for example, were to listen for a continued time 
 1 I allude to the only explanation, I believe, of the phenomenon of sighing, &c.
 
 283 
 
 to the most exquisite music, each would probably have been pleased at 
 first ; but if one applied his powers to the understanding and appreciation 
 of it, made it a study, exercised his energies upon it, while the other was 
 content each day to hear it, and no more, habit would with the first have 
 developed the keenness of hearing and judgment of sounds, while the ear 
 of the other would be less awake than before to the beauty of the notes 
 he heard. 
 
 These results, which we have obtained in the consideration of the 
 human physical frame, are exposed to an objection of the following kind. 
 It is useless, we may be told, to subdivide, if a subject is complete with- 
 out it ; if a comprehensive view is truthful, it is the best. And all the 
 phenomena of habit may be resolved into the fact that it renders more 
 easy any operation or affection ; that it accustoms the frame to the 
 action, and brings the effect each time more home to the individual. 
 "Why, then, it may be asked, should we look upon effects as contrary 
 which are really one and the same ? In order to show that such a view 
 would lose in truth what it gained in comprehensiveness, we may be 
 excused a short digression upon the facts which have of late years been 
 brought to light by those who have especially studied the nervous system 
 of the body. To Sir Charles Bell we are indebted for one of the most 
 brilliant discoveries ever made upon the subject that, namely, of the 
 different parts of the system upon which motion and sensation depend. 
 He was led to his investigations partly from considering the distribution 
 of certain nerves, partly from cases in which the power of moving a 
 member of the body is lost, sensation being retained ; or the reverse. 
 The results at which he arrived, and which subsequent inquiries have 
 confirmed and illustrated, are of the following nature. The powers of 
 both kinds which a limb possesses have been long known to depend upon 
 the connection of the spinal nerves which enter it. Hence, by dividing 
 these, motion and sensation are destroyed. But it is found on tracing 
 these to their origin that each of them is composed of two parts, one of 
 which proceeds from the anterior column of the spinal cord, the other 
 from the posterior column. If the former of these be cut, the power of 
 motion in the part supplied by the nerve is extinguished ; as is also sen- 
 sation, by dividing the posterior root. In a newly killed animal, when 
 the posterior or sensitive roots of the nerves are irritated, no effect is 
 produced ; but when the anterior or motive roots are similarly touched, 
 the limbs which are connected with these nerves are thrown into violent 
 convulsions. Again, the motive nerves are extremely various in their 
 characters, the amount of consciousness or will required for the action of 
 the parts varying according to the tract of the spinal cord from which 
 they spring ; the sensitive, on the other hand, are in all probability single 
 and uniform. Now, when we find these various characters of nerve 
 corresponding with the most perfect nicety to the various functions of the 
 human body ; and when we see that they are throughout divided into 
 these two distinct classes, is it possible to shut our eyes to the facts of 
 physical sciences, and refuse to acknowledge a twofold application of the
 
 284 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 faculty of habit applied to the double functions of which our frame is 
 capable ? Is it possible to call the operations of the law uniform, when 
 we have seen that they are contrary in direction, and have for their 
 objects two clearly separate kingdoms of the nervous system? 
 
 Let us now turn to the metaphysical action of habit ; and since we 
 may here, as well as above, easily subdivide mental and moral phenomena 
 into two classes, those of active and passive organisation, we will begin 
 by considering the first of these, and inquire whether similar results to 
 the foregoing are obtained. "We have, then, before us mental operations 
 and moral energies. As before, it will not be necessary to enlarge upon 
 a demonstration that the active faculties are strengthened by use in those 
 subjects upon which study is employed ; or that the moral instincts, the 
 more they are called into exercise, will the more be invigorated and con- 
 firmed. No sermon, no seminary, but is witness to the truth of these 
 facts. But as, in the case of the body, there was conscious and uncon- 
 scious action, so also in the higher nature of man. He has his moral 
 habits ; he has his received beliefs. Neither of these can be considered as 
 directly dependent upon the will. When, in his famous Edinburgh 
 lecture, delivered many years ago, Lord Brougham, speaking on the sub- 
 ject of religious toleration, went so far as to assert the total unconscious- 
 ness, or rather metaphysical isolation, of belief, he either forgot or dis- 
 allowed the fact that, as unconscious physical actions are engendered by 
 conscious ones, so the will does act indirectly, though strongly, upon 
 opinion. When his adversaries, in their eagerness to attach responsi- 
 bility to faith, actually subjoined the latter to the province of conscious 
 will, they did violence to the most obvious facts of mental anatomy ; 
 neglecting the analogy of physical organisation, which entirely separates 
 some part of action, at all events, from the power of reasoning energy. 
 This whole analogy is most interesting to observe. Whether indeed we 
 may carry it out to the utmost, whether we are to admit of any originally 
 unconscious motions of the mind, and, in the kindred province of morality, 
 allow the existence of any distinct moral instincts independently of the 
 mere instinct of morality as a law, is not within the province of such an 
 essay as this to determine ; but this we may say, that the analogy extends 
 very far indeed ; and that, whether we recognise its ultimate application 
 or not, we have, exclusive of its support, abundant evidence of a similar 
 strengthening effect of habit with regard to the active parts of man's 
 moral and intellectual structure. 
 
 For an example to illustrate the gradual effect of habit on the active 
 mental powers, let us take the case of the formation in men of general 
 views of life and of the constitution of the world. At first, when the 
 receptive faculties mere observation, that is are still vigorous, and the 
 active faculties, though strong, are not yet attuned, as afterwards 
 happens, by the exercise of all in their turn, there ensues a quick and im- 
 patient induction as regards the logical methods, a rapid and premature 
 appreciation of universal laws, a one-sided comprehensiveness, if those 
 views may be so called which are characterised by generalisations some-
 
 THE FOECE OF HABIT 285 
 
 times plausible but always hasty, and deductions from these often re- 
 pugnant to facts, and often inconsistent. And hence in the philosophy 
 of younger men, views of order are conspicuous ; wide surveys of facts little 
 perhaps understood, but eagerly grasped at for the sake of the total 
 arrangement ; and a dissatisfaction with everything which does not 
 square with the system and fill a definite place in the outwardly harmo- 
 nious whole. But the effects of life are to reverse this process. As 
 time advances the powers of observation become, with reference to each 
 object of a class, less clear ; inductions are seldom made, too seldom in 
 fact for a constant appreciation of external events ; but the whole active 
 faculties being together strengthened and enlarged by use, there accrues 
 a solidity to the few general views now formed, and a practical strength 
 and stability to the deductions, the logical analysis, the more narrow 
 laws, as it would seem, which are characteristic of the practised philosophy 
 of older men. 
 
 The passive faculties of the mind may perhaps be summed up in the 
 word ' affections.' The mental affections fear, hope, sorrow, and the like 
 correspond to the sensations of the body. Such an affection as hatred 
 will of course be included in the list, if we are only on our guard against 
 an ambiguity which may arise from confounding the mere mental sensa- 
 tion with the moral energy. In all these it is almost proverbial that use 
 deadens the feeling. Fear subsides ; hope sickens ; delight palls ; all the 
 passive faculties, in a word, are blunted, for each particular object, by 
 time and exercise. Sic visum superis : we find the law. That the effect 
 is for the benefit of the race, none will question : that it proceeds as 
 plainly from a distinct emphatic ordinance as any other part of the con- 
 stitution of our nature, few will be so bold as to deny. 1 
 
 And indeed that this distinction of the result of action points to a 
 moral end, was not obscurely hinted when the foundations of Christianity 
 were laid. When people after people attributed degradation to some 
 outward touch, when the whole world had decided with one voice that 
 certain ceremonies from without possessed a purifying and moral power, 
 and had very nearly forgotten that it was not these in reality that were 
 under the dominion of the moral will, that true uncleanness and guilt were 
 the offspring of the daily life, and had their roots within how pregnant 
 and how forcible is the great dictum which St. Mark records I ' Hearken 
 unto Me every one of you, and understand : there is nothing from without 
 a man, that entering into him can defile him.' Then indeed if any man 
 had ears to hear, he must have heard. ' That which cometh out of the 
 man ' the long list of evil thoughts and deeds ' all these come from 
 within, and defile- the man.' No truer morality, no truer philosophy 
 could a nation of Formalists be taught. They knew well, they felt deeply, 
 that the will was inherently superior to the sense ; they now learnt that 
 it was also more potent, and more abiding in its action. And those who 
 
 1 This subject is drawn out by Butler in the Analogy I. oh. v. in a somewhat 
 different argument, though tending to a similar purpose.
 
 286 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 had been accustomed to consider moral actions as sometimes, in an in- 
 direct way, reacting upon the doer, might hence have learnt that this, 
 which they called the reaction, was in truth the great, chief, and direct 
 action; that the outward manifestation of the deed was, of the two, the 
 minor and the more remote. 
 
 The results to which our inquiry thus far has led us may be briefly 
 stated thus. The force of habit extends over all parts of the human 
 organisation, but affects them in different ways. It is not a mere property 
 of the constitution, with a single action, and bearing no special marks of 
 adaptation to distinguish it from other faculties or properties ; but by a 
 clearly denned law its influences are separable into two classes according 
 to the sphere of its operation ; the effect being to stimulate the active 
 powers of the mind and body, and weaken and deaden those which are 
 only passive and extrinsically affected. We have not only a general 
 property ; we have a specific law pointing to adaptation and design. 
 
 II. HABIT, THE UNIVERSAL LAW 
 
 Entering upon the second part of this subject with much hesitation, 
 but much conviction also of the truth it involves, it is important that we 
 form at the outset a clear idea of the inquiry to be instituted. We know 
 that the force of habit is great, and universal among men. We see also 
 from more particular examination that it occurs under such phases as to 
 lead us to conclude that it is governed by special, individual, and particular 
 laws. We have now to ascertain whether some corresponding property 
 extends also beyond the human race, and is visible in the wide domain of 
 irrational nature. And here it will be obviously unnecessary to search 
 for a similar twofold division of its effects. Our knowledge of the world 
 around us is too small as yet to admit of much success in an examination 
 of the kind. And yet it will sometimes be found that, when such tests 
 seem applicable, they do seem also to point in the direction indicated 
 above. Here and there we shall be able to notice such an instance ; 
 meanwhile the existence of a universal property analogous to human 
 habit is the object of our more immediate search. 
 
 The identity of the laws of space and of time is constantly receiving 
 some new and wonderful proofs. The researches of foreign meta- 
 physicians, and, of late years, the study of science, have combined to bring 
 to light the extent of this important principle. In measurement, in 
 universal capability of logical employment, in almost every conceivable 
 way, time and space are akin. Now, if there is one law with regard to 
 space which is more than any other famous for its intrinsic beauty, the 
 celebrated process of its discovery, and its consequent entire reception, 
 it is that of ' universal attraction.' May we look for the property we are 
 seeking in an analogous law universal throughout nature, that of temporal 
 coherence ? 
 
 Every particle of matter affects, firstly and chiefly, its immediate 
 neighbours, then, less strongly, those more remote. To some extent,
 
 THE FOECE OF HABIT 287 
 
 each particle of matter attracts the whole universe. Similarly, may we 
 not say that every incident happening in a moment of time (for incident 
 in time corresponds to matter in space) affects its immediate con- 
 sequent, and again, less powerfully, the entire process of the world's 
 action ? Thus far this principle nearly resembles the canon, now trite, 
 that, as the ' Saint's Tragedy ' expresses it, ' each word we speak has 
 infinite effects.' But it extends farther also. The effect in space is that 
 of attraction. That in time is also most easily represented under the 
 figure of cohesion ; each incident tending as it were to bring near to itself, 
 to assimilate l to itself, the consequent incident, even if it appear under 
 the shape of simple apparent existence. Plato would have called the 
 principle self-imitation ; we may more familiarly style it the law of self- 
 preservation. If indeed we might step farther still upon the debated ground 
 of causality, a conjecture might perhaps be hazarded that we have here 
 a hint of some common ground for a reconciliation of the controversy. 
 For we hear on one side that a cause is a real motive power, an agency 
 effective through itself ; and on the other that a ' cause ' means only a 
 precedent in time, and that, while we build in our minds the idea of a 
 physical energy at work, the effect is nothing really beyond a constant 
 sequence. But once allow that a principle exists such as that developed 
 above, and there is opened a possibility of connecting these theories. If 
 time is gifted with the virtue of attraction, an incident happening in time 
 is hardly dissociable from the actual idea of a cause ; and a transition 
 such as that which we associate with a result is not so much a change 
 interrupting an established order, as an actual property of the incident 
 which we regard as having produced it. The two are connected not by 
 a process, a transition, an intervening action as it were, but by the inherent 
 nature of the two events as existing in time. 
 
 Now, all that can be said in description of the effect of habit is, that by 
 it one action produces an effect upon the next subsequent action of the 
 same kind, and on those that follow it. This, then, with the necessary 
 modification of the term ' effect,' is precisely what takes place in the 
 sustentation of nature. Suppose an inanimate object to exist with certain 
 properties. The continuance of one of them through a moment of time 
 
 1 It is hard to help using the somewhat inappropriate word ' assimilate.' I mean 
 that virtue by which an object being in any condition might be said to draw 
 towards itself the condition of the same object at the next moment of time. With 
 regard to attraction, the magnet affords an instance of a faculty almost exactly 
 resembling human habit. The more the property of attraction is exercised, the 
 stronger it grows ; and if iron be placed close to a loadstone, the longer it remains in 
 contact with it, the more of the property will it contract. And it may be remarked, 
 that this forcible instance of the existence of the property in things indicates also 
 most clearly that the extension of any power or faculty in the agency of habit is to 
 be looked for in the active and motive, as distinguished from the passive and, so to 
 speak, sensual qualities ; and the same is the case in animal magnetism, as it is 
 called, the power of exercising which grows with practice, and is similarly attached 
 to the active will. The whole subject of mesmerism bears out the parallel to a 
 striking extent.
 
 288 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 produces it at the next moment by a sequence or result which is the most 
 simple form of self-preservation : the simple tendency of the property is 
 to perpetuate itself. 1 Advancing a step higher in the scale of nature, the 
 tree shows a more marked, more full, evidence of this consequence; the 
 more the sap circulates, the stronger will be the tree, and the more room 
 will it afford for further development. And, higher still, in the animals 
 whose life so closely resembles ours, we find habits which would seem 
 to differ from ours only in proportion to the difference of intelligence and 
 reason. 
 
 The first of these types is easily recognised as the first law of motion. 
 It is the law of permanence independent of life. As such it may even 
 perhaps receive a wider application. We speak of Truth as a harmony ; 
 we also speak of it as an essential unity ; expressions which may to some 
 extent be combined by considering it as equivalent to some sort of 
 consistency. A statement in fact is veracious if it fills the exact place 
 between its logical antecedents and consequents ; the concurrence of fact 
 with fact throughout the infinity of being constitutes Truth. And indeed, 
 if with all ' worship of Adrastea ' we may venture a somewhat bold 
 speculation, some resemblance between statements of truth and the 
 existence of objects seems to appear in the method of the generation of 
 each. For if we conceive of a syllogism, the ultimate form of proof, as 
 consisting of the general law of the class, the susceptible instance, and 
 the consequence logically produced from the two; we have a parallel, 
 in the metaphysical generation of an object, in the quality to be impressed, 
 the susceptible substance, and the result, the object as it is. Here the 
 fact, that the consequence may follow from other premisses as well as the 
 pair chosen, is answered by the similar fact that any quality may be 
 considered as the determining quality for classification, both syllogistic 
 reasoning and physical classification being only mental processes, and 
 therefore arbitrary ; the object, that is, may be considered as produced by 
 the quality in the same sense to the full as the consequence is produced 
 by the premisses, since both general law and abstract quality are really 
 conceived last in the order of nature. 
 
 Vegetable life brings us to a higher degree of self-inherent, and con- 
 sequently reflex, action. This appears, from all that we can see, to be its 
 primary, death and corruption only its secondary, law. The same, too, 
 is the case with regard to animal life considered only as energetic 
 organisation, and the truth of which, physiologists assure us, commends 
 itself by its adaptation to our ideas of the real meaning of life, and its 
 adaptability also to what we have ventured to call the faculty of self- 
 preservation the truth, namely, that death and corruption are no 
 necessary portions or consequents of growth and vitality, but that they 
 
 1 ... nt jam liceat ana comprehensione omnia complecti ; non dubitemqui 
 dicere, omnem naturam esse conservatricem sui, idque liabere propositum quasi 
 fmem, et extremum, ut se custodial quam in optimo sui generis statu. 
 
 Cic. De Fin. v. ix. 26.
 
 THE FORCE OF HABIT 289 
 
 are in fact in the highest sense unnatural. In fact, if the constitution of 
 a healthy man be regarded for one instant by itself, as complete and 
 self-acting, there is no inherent reason which would prevent it, we are 
 told, from so continuing for ever. As matter, indeed, it does not finish ; 
 for matter (like its kindred ' incident ' in the form of historical fact) ever 
 preserves its being : as living matter, it only perishes by the engrafted law 
 of death. 
 
 One more step upwards, and we reach the human faculty of habit ; 
 similarly, though imperfectly, developed in the brute creation. A higher 
 principle of vital force is now at work : it no longer operates only in individual 
 cells, but is collected in nervous centres of action. And here we find it, 
 as we should expect, in that part of the brute nature which we may 
 consider the highest, as bordering most closely on our own. ' Every rank 
 of creation,' says Coleridge in the ' Aids to Reflection,' ' as it ascends in the 
 scale of creation, leaves death behind it or under it. The metal at the 
 height of being seems a mute prophecy of the coming vegetation, into a 
 mimic semblance of which it crystallises. . . . And wonderfully in the 
 insect realm doth the irritability, the proper seat of instinct, while yet 
 the nascent sensibility is subordinated thereto most wonderfully, I say, 
 doth the muscular life in the insect, and the musculo- arterial in the bird, 
 imitate and typically rehearse the adaptive understanding, yea and the 
 moral affections and charities, of man. . . . All lower natures find their 
 highest good in semblances and seekings of that which is higher and 
 better.' And so in the case before us, this faculty of man which solely 
 exhibits his own action upon himself, the faculty which shapes his 
 conscience, and is interwoven with the deepest roots of his responsibility, 
 has its counterpart in that which is also the highest nature of the brute, his 
 instinct, his affections, his sympathies, all that indicates action, motives, 
 and will. 
 
 We have hitherto used the term self-preservation in a somewhat 
 different sense from that in which it is generally understood. But it is 
 not necessary to exclude from the larger meaning the desire of self- 
 preservation in the more common acceptance of the term. It is certain 
 that no explanation has ever been given of the instinct sufficient to satisfy 
 the phenomena ; for while the desire of life seems to imply that life is a 
 good of some kind, if, on the other hand, it is an absolute good, we are at 
 a loss to account for the circumstance that many lives are miserable, and 
 if only a relative good, we are introduced to that to which it has a relation, 
 viz. the immortality of the soul, a confidence of which would hardly have 
 the general effect of increasing the desire of life. The instinct, then, 
 cannot be traced to a. strictly logical motive, and may have its root in the 
 same principle as that stated above, the first law of motion as applied to 
 metaphysical action. 
 
 These theories, which we have now, so far, brought to an end, may 
 perhaps be thought fanciful. But if the word analogy has any meaning 
 at all, they are not necessarily untrue. Not only the holy books, but the 
 pages of nature as well, were written for our learning. Why, indeed, 
 
 U
 
 290 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 should we suppose that the world is governed by different laws from those 
 which govern its inhabitants ? If in these efforts to obtain half-glimpses 
 of some grand law of conservation we have been able to arrive with any 
 degree of satisfactory success at a system which connects human action 
 and its government with the workings of all nature in its various stages of 
 life and growth, then we shall not have solved the mystery of responsi- 
 bility, we shall not have discovered the whole nature of conscience, but 
 we shall have given grounds for additional study of the relations of daily 
 acts to the total progress and final destiny of man. 
 
 III. HABIT, THE INSTRUMENT OF MOEAL EDUCATION 
 
 We have now considered the extent and direction of the force of habit, 
 and have endeavoured to establish its relation to some greater, and 
 possibly universal, law of nature. It remains to consider the result of its 
 working upon the moral constitution of man, and its consequent connec- 
 tion with the laws which are to us the exponents of the Divine moral 
 government. 
 
 When Luther, at the most critical moment of the Church's history, 
 professed a new standard of faith and practice, the occasion which 
 immediately impelled him was the sale of indulgences by Tetzel, and the 
 grand doctrine which he established was that which denies salvation to 
 mere acts at all. All hinged upon this : this depreciation of ' works ' as 
 a purchase-money of salvation was the cardinal point of the Reformation. 
 A quantitative application of deeds of wrong and right for striking the 
 balance of Divine acceptance was abhorrent to any who chose, and who 
 dared, to think. Some theory was needed which should exempt the 
 Creator's dealings from the realm of mere arithmetical scrutiny, and 
 establish a responsibility in the person himself much deeper and more 
 perfect and more sacred than a summation of his merits could represent. 
 
 Arnold of Brescia had conceived it. Tauler had whispered it in the 
 ear. Erasmus had spoken it in the closet. Upon the housetops, indeed, 
 Augustine had proclaimed it ; but centuries had dimmed the voice. 
 Luther found it written in his heart, and gave it to the world. Not in an 
 enumeration of acts of charity ; not in combinations of scourges and sack- 
 cloth ; not in parchments signed, sealed, and sold for money ; no, not in 
 any act or visible thing that the sun shines upon, or time takes note of 
 
 in the heart that is hallowed 
 Lieth forgiveness enshrined. 
 
 Not, " What hast thou done ? "' says Trench, ' but " What art thou ? " 
 will be the question to every man in that day. Sin is not exterior to the 
 soul. We form ourselves ; we shape ourselves to truth and righteousness 
 and faith ; by our actions, indeed, we shall be judged ; but it is not our 
 actions that shall be judged, but ourselves.' 
 
 For such a principle has been implanted in our minds and bodies, that 
 no action is fruitless to the actor. Such a virtue lies in every exercise of 
 the will, that no employment of it but recoils on the employer. By
 
 THE FOECE OF HABIT 291 
 
 habit, extending to each individual deed, the course of our lives is bound 
 together by one great moral chain. Its links are great and small ; but 
 there is one for every action. The man who acts thriftily becomes thrifty, 
 and saves his heritage. The man who plays the prodigal is soon a 
 prodigal at heart, and cannot but lose when he might have gained. In 
 no other way than this each act of right or wrong bears testimony to the 
 moral will, develops the moral character, advances steadily and pro- 
 gressively the moral consummation. Truly in our own selves, no less 
 than without, we are compassed about with an innumerable company of 
 witnesses. Of the number are the nameless charities, the silent heroisms, 
 the impractical, undemonstrative motions of goodness and love ; of the 
 number, too, is the t>7repiVraror d/zapria, the sin that cleaves like a garment. 
 As surely as the growth of each leaf changes the form of the tree, so surely 
 does each of these, with a distinct reality and life of its own, tend, one by 
 one, to form and mould the man. 
 
 And thus development is not an excrescence upon, but the very 
 substance of, the moral law. Thus arises that truth, the statement of 
 which is so trite, that the life of no man is stationary. The outgoings of 
 the conscience cannot for one day be restrained ; in one or other of its 
 two branches the stream of will must flow. And thus our moral nature is 
 ever approaching more and more nearly its consummation. It deadens, 
 slackens, perishes, or rises, strengthens, triumphs. Like the issue of the 
 two dispensations upon earth, its two phases have an end ever in view : 
 the one melted by degrees and died ; the other grows till it fills the earth 
 with branches. And as the people might not gaze on the prophet's face 
 lest they should see its brightness perishing,' so neither will the angels of 
 God bear to look upon the fullness of the perfected glory. But we approach 
 it by steps not random, but certain ; not vague and meaningless, but 
 stamped with a sureness of direction. Every sin that a man commits, 
 he sins against his own soul and body ; what future humiliation the soul 
 and body may endure will be no arbitrary decree of external vengeance, 
 but a consequence akin to the crime. Earth travails in this with man ; 
 earth, like him, is pregnant with its fate ; the end is nowhere dissociated, 
 as far as creation extends, from the certain means and processes. 2 
 
 We shall arrive, then, at a better idea of the meaning of moral govern- 
 ment if we attach to the words, not the bare signification of a government 
 
 1 2 Cor. iii. 13. 
 
 3 This seems to be the general sense of the obscure cosmogonical passage in 
 2 Pet. iii. I translate literally : ' For this they willingly are ignorant of ' (hence the 
 troth must have been matter of trustworthy tradition), ' that the heavens and earth 
 of old were composed j)i water and by water, by the ordinance of God. By means of 
 it (the same water), the then world perished, deluged with water.' The phrase 
 ' the then world ' is a strong expression when taken literally, and not in the weaker 
 sense in which we might now probably apply the term. Here, so far, it appears that 
 the writer considered water as the element of the old world, pointing at once to its 
 constitution and destiny ; and it perished from internal causes, died from that very 
 thing of which its nature in the main consisted. To continue : ' But the heavens 
 and earth which now are, by his ordinance are treasured up, preserved in fire unto a 
 
 D 2
 
 292 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 by rewards and punishments, but rather that of an adaptation of means 
 to ends with direct reference to man's moral nature. And we shall 
 better be able to conceive of such a government extending to the smallest 
 acts of life, if we view them as bearing on the inward man, and not in the 
 light of thc-ir results. Hence it is that Christianity is a religion of 
 motives. The truth is, not that events mould us, but we mould our- 
 selves ; that, if with reverence it may be spoken, the Creator supplies the 
 instruments, and we have the work to do. Whether our work be a cheerless, 
 solitary task, a forlorn and unaided toil, or whether in no single action 
 are we destitute of a guidance above ourselves, Plato did not doubt, and 
 we shall not; but that it is in this way that we shape our being, and in 
 everything work towards an end, Scripture and reason prove. We may 
 ' drop and die like dead leaves in the shade,' but neither do they die to 
 themselves, nor do we : in the life we have lived we have wrought out 
 some destiny for ourselves, the issues of which are immortal. 
 
 And in this broad method of looking at right and wrong as modelling 
 the whole of our lives, and not merely certain actions which come under 
 a special law in this view of sin as existing in, and not outside, the soul 
 we shall not be surprised to find some human distinctions obliterated 
 which interrupt and obscure the great canons of moral guidance. We 
 shall not wonder if we are led to the conclusion that these laws of 
 universal right, the simple conditions of morality, refuse to acknowledge 
 the minor niceties of arrangement, and that, in this moral government, 
 it is as repugnant to true philosophy to talk of mortal and venial sins as 
 in the other field of natural laws to speak of ' special providences ' and 
 ' visitations of God.' 
 
 In the consideration of the human conscience one phase in particular 
 presents itself of great interest with reference to the subject of a Divine 
 moral government ; that of its adaptability, in common with the other 
 parts of our nature, to any special work or end. Any business which we 
 undertake, and to which we are constantly attached, will mould us to 
 itself in direct proportion to our assiduity in its pursuit. Even our 
 pleasures have the same effect. It is from the invariable character of this 
 action that Addison, in the ' Spectator,' draws one or two excellent practical 
 reflections. He tells us, with all the beauty of his unostentatious style, 
 how irksomeness of labour soon wears off, nor is any occupation, under- 
 taken through choice or necessity, to be despaired of as capable of 
 becoming ultimately a source of pleasure. He enforces the duty of 
 choosing the best and purest modes of life, and shows, as an encourage- 
 ment so to do, that inclination will follow the choice, and custom render 
 the labour pleasant. And with the suavity and gracefulness of language 
 
 day of judgment.' The same idea is repeated in the next few verses. Here, then, 
 the element in (rather than of) which the world at present consists is fire, and fire 
 is to be its doom. After that the transition is to a third period, a new heaven and 
 earth, the peculiar character of which is neither fire nor water, but something which 
 ifl not to be touched or felt or handled. St. Peter says that 'in it dwelleth 
 righteousness.'
 
 THE FOECE OF HABIT 293 
 
 with which the writers of his day seem always to have been inspired by 
 the utterance of the word ' religion,' he draws the simple moral of faithful 
 perseverance in duty. 
 
 There are few men who have utterly failed so to read it, written, more 
 or less distinctly, on their hearts. Whether in the obvious lesson of 
 patient endurance recommended even to unwilling learners by this 
 accommodation of the will to custom ; or by the agency of those manifold 
 operations of habit, whose task, like that of Vulcan's children of old, was 
 to make roads for the feet and render the earth inhabitable ; x or, to those 
 who looked to the higher properties of our nature, the moulding of the 
 individual conscience itself according to its task, the duty of ' continuance 
 in well-doing ' cannot but have been patent to those who wished to see it. 
 Can we notice how a strict observance of the rights due to all begets a 
 sense of justice keen and discriminating ; how a character of magnanimity 
 is engendered by a series of high and noble emotions ; how a course of 
 life tending to unselfish considerations never fails to produce a corre- 
 sponding reaction on the conscience which has devoted itself to these by 
 voluntary choice ; and yet consider it all as instructive to ourselves alone ? 
 Labour, suffering, lifelong devotion without an obvious and tangible end 
 in view, is no doubt an idea the property chiefly of the Christian ; but it 
 is not solely and exclusively his. Even the old mythology has its claims 
 to such a conception, which we should be unwise to disallow. Look, for 
 instance, at the stories of some of the heroes. We seldom appreciate 
 them to the full. We admire them just because they were strong and 
 brave. On this we are content to rest. The Greeks themselves were 
 not ; not, at least, on this alone. They saw, too, that in all those toils, 
 those fights, those victories over the robbers of the Isthmus, those de- 
 capitations of Medusa the Gorgon, there was a philanthropy which ranked 
 higher than the bravery ; there were labours for the good of others, and 
 not for the good of self; there were lives of patient suffering and virtue 
 which asked, and obtained, no reward in this life. 
 
 Hac arte Pollux et vagus Hercules 
 Enisus arces attigit igneas ; 
 
 and, though ' sons of Zeus ' be an idea now no longer of limited applica- 
 tion, those heavenly citadels may have been reached by many since in 
 no very different way. 
 
 Morality is, in Scripture language, a law written in our hearts. Habit, 
 then, is the instrument by which the sentence is executed. The building 
 is reared on the ground of the law ; habits are the workmen ; and the 
 building stands. It has many parts ; nor are duties, nor habits, alike. 
 Every faculty of sense and motion has its own allotted share. With 
 those, then, by whom any one part of moral duty is exalted to a dominion 
 over the rest, we cannot sympathise. Fanaticism is a neglect of the 
 many for the one. We know that it has its parallel in the physical being ; 
 
 . Eum. 13, 14.
 
 294 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 that the blind person has the sense of touch developed to an inordinate 
 degree ; and if we were to consider the state of the blind as perfection, 
 we might easily allow that, without detriment to the living whole, one 
 moral sense may be deadened while another is unduly excited. When 
 Plato denned justice in a state as that by which each person keeps his 
 station, his hearers wondered, but his republic held together. And when 
 he found in the moral polity of the individual a constitutionalism, as it 
 were, which answered to the kindred virtue of the state, he was satisfied 
 that here, or nowhere, was justice to be found in man. By a somewhat 
 different path we arrive at a similar result, and find in an equipoise of 
 duties a surety for Tightness of action and the healthful progress of the 
 soul. Here, as before, the balance must be confined to the motives ; 
 morality is related to the person and not to the action or its effects. 
 
 We are prevented, for example, by such a rule as this, from commend- 
 ing the hermit and the monk ; men who fall down and adore a morality of 
 contemplation, though they offer it but the sacrifice of a shadow ; men 
 who starve, in their lives, the very conscience which they would fain 
 worship in the spirit. For this higher life of man is supported, in some 
 sense, by the senses, as the lower life by food and air : or perhaps rather 
 the being of man before he comes into the light would be a fitter type of 
 the struggling life which the conscience lives on earth. The use of the 
 objects of sense is to feed the moral growth : when the end comes we 
 may perhaps be independent of them altogether. As the channels of 
 nutrition of the body are open before birth, so the mind, anticipating its 
 future real genesis, equally derives from without all the elements of the 
 wondrous organism by which it will hereafter work. Its parts are 
 fashioned day by day, while as yet there are none of them. 
 
 To proceed ; not every act connected with morality is a conscious 
 one. A deed may have a tremendous moral significance nay, may con- 
 fessedly deserve the greatest possible punishment or reward, and yet may 
 seem to proceed from instinct rather than from deliberate choice. Such 
 a fact as this it were hard to understand without considering habit as the 
 architect of the edifice to which we likened the moral nature. This me- 
 mory, this reflex action, brings a similar instinct out of morality to that 
 which the mere memory of the intellect educes from experience and 
 embalms as knowledge. ' Nihil esse in intellectu quod non prius fuerit 
 in sensu ' is not to be denied without a virtual change of the language ; 
 nor can anything form a part of moral instinct that has not first passed 
 through the plastic hands of reasonable will. And if instinctive impulse 
 be, as some would tell us, the true key to riddles of conscience, it is only 
 as a conviction of fact may be trusted in so far as it may be thought to 
 rely on a previous induction of evidence. 
 
 And it cannot be too strictly remarked that this human moral instinct 
 bears to the brute instinct a relation only similar to the general relation 
 of man and brute. In us it is the result of an habitual direction of will : 
 in them it is, as it were, the total of that will, which could hardly indeed 
 be exercised without it. In us it is a consequent, in them an antecedent,
 
 THE FOBCE OF HABIT 295 
 
 to definite actions. But having said thus much of distinction, if we allow 
 that there is a relation at all between the two, we are thrown at once upon 
 a strange field of conjecture ; a field which embraces in its bounds the 
 secrets of personal being, and whose confines almost touch the still darker 
 storehouse of mysteries of which the word creation is the door. We have 
 already spoken of a Divine moral government of man as working by the 
 great law, one phase of which we are accustomed to name habit ; we have 
 looked upon the various lights in which it may be viewed from the ' stand- 
 point ' of this heaven-implanted principle. Let us venture to cast one 
 glance, if we can, beyond. We traced some law of Habit in the lower 
 worlds of nature ; may we not even find some appropriateness in its working 
 which may be not unworthy of a name similar to, if not actually, that of 
 a moral government of tilings ? 
 
 Is it a mere phrase, or is it more nearly a truth, that ' His mercy is 
 over all His works ' ? Was it but a dream, or was it something kindred 
 to an inspired thought, which prompted the splendid saying, that from 
 God Himself comes all that is good in man or beast or thing ? And if, 
 in that part of the nature of every creature which our reason tells us is 
 its highest and noblest possession, we find the same law which in us 
 supports the fabric of virtue and holiness if we trace its power and 
 significance rising according as the creature itself, and therefore each of its 
 highest attributes, increases if we find everything that we see striving as 
 it were and aiming after the state above itself, and in this very attempt 
 producing and reproducing this law, this habit, this ethical self-preserva^ 
 tion, or whatever name we may choose to call it by, are we to shrink from 
 recognising in it an ordinance beyond that of the mere sustenance of life, 
 and pointing more or less distinctly to that which we prize as divinely 
 moral in ourselves ? 
 
 For so the whole round world is every way 
 Bound with gold chains about the feet of G-od. 
 
 What, then, serves the instinct of brutes ? Is its end merely to con- 
 tinue their lives, and perpetuate their kind ? Do they merely exist and 
 vegetate ? or are these, even, works touched and hallowed by that wondrous 
 mercy ? Wherever the instinct gushes out as from a deeper source than 
 sense, wherever the spirit shows itself apart from and higher than the flesh, 
 there even in the beasts themselves a law works in their members to bring 
 forth fruit, if not of nobler life, as the fable told, at all events of happiness, 
 and more likeness to the better nature above them. Wherever there is the 
 law of which habit is the human exponent, there also appears the guiding 
 law for which ' moral ' is hardly too great a term. And where a habit of 
 gratitude and attachment develop, as in the house-dog for example, into 
 an affection so nearly disinterested that we can no more assign a conscious 
 final motive for its acts of love than for our own, if there is not here 
 the dawning of a moral worth, then moral worth is a thing for which we 
 have no test or standard whatever. 
 
 We will not pursue the subject. We will not question whether even
 
 296 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 our moral law be but a type of some higher law that we know not. It is 
 sufficient that it corresponds to our highest attributes; for no higher 
 could assuredly be given us than that of moulding ourselves by our acts. 
 There are those to whom the good gift of habit is no more than an aid to 
 distort the true end of the soul. ' The things that should have been for 
 their wealth are unto them an occasion of falling.' But that the gift is 
 for our use and profit ; that by it we ' rise ' not only on our ' dead selves,' 
 but upon our living selves as it were, to ' higher things ; ' that it carries 
 engraven upon it the express sentence of the Divine will for our moral 
 progress and perfection this it is enough for us to know. 
 
 We have now endeavoured to indicate the nature of Habit as a human 
 property, to examine it as a phase of a larger and general law, and to 
 consider its consummate adaptation to our moral nature. Nor is it three 
 views of a subject that are so much intended by these considerations, as 
 three steps of an argument. For, granting that the effect of habit is 
 strong and leads to moral ends, we see in it tenfold beauty and symmetry 
 when we can observe the tokens of design, and look up to it with tenfold 
 admiration and awe when it shines upon us as partial only in so far as we 
 are incapable of understanding the whole. He who made us has made 
 us, like all His works, with properties for working out the ends of our 
 highest nature. Habit He has given as a principle to all creation ; in us 
 He has invested it with life and dignified it with specialty of application. 
 
 The end of such an investigation as the present can never be unmean- 
 ing to ourselves. We can never attempt to obtain a clearer sight of an 
 ordinance of Divine goodness, without finding and consecrating to our- 
 selves if it be but the dust of the chamber of heavenly wisdom. Such 
 considerations as these may tell us much, even though the speculation 
 should be crude and the analysis imperfect. They tell us that if we are 
 living under a paramount dispensation of right and wrong, so surely an 
 atmosphere of moral significance breathes in the smallest acts of our will ; 
 that habit, if it be no more, is the link which connects the meanest of 
 ordinary deeds with the great laws which are a Theocracy over the hearts 
 of all men. We exempt no person and no act from their influence ; we 
 believe that they rule the earth ; that as ' the world is so framed by the 
 word of God, that the things which meet our eyes consist not of mere 
 objects of sense,' so they have rather their subsistence on the mind of a 
 God whose prime law in our hearts is the sense of moral duty, the essence 
 of that education and that Divine economy by which the whole course 
 of His ' Church,' however wide be the issues of that word, is not only 
 'governed,' but ' sanctified.'
 
 297 
 
 III 
 
 MODEEN WAE 1 
 
 WE propose in the few following pages to examine some of the senti- 
 ments which have of late been popular with respect to the social benefits 
 which war is supposed to confer : and the hope now often expressed of 
 the effect which the tone of our popular action might receive from a con- 
 flict such as that in which we have been lately engaged. It is not easy, 
 nor is it always practicable, to scrutinise narrowly the results of any one 
 set of circumstances on the character of a people : it is hopeless to do so 
 when the total effect is considerably overrated : but when it is intimated 
 in quarters which command respect and secure attention, that a modern 
 European war will awaken a nation from a lethargy of dishonest hypo- 
 crisy, and produce a healing impulse almost in private character ; and this 
 so much even that the consummation, in spite of its attendant horrors, is 
 one devoutly to be wished ; it is time honestly to inquire what foundation 
 these expectations have : what will remain over and above in the way of 
 social improvement, when such a war has ended : what we have left to us 
 of durable reinvigoration when our friends are wounded in Bussia, and 
 our purses exhausted by the income tax. 
 
 It was once the dream of the poet, and the prophet's most confident 
 hope, that the days of war should cease. The prevailing passion for 
 paradox would naturally lead us to expect that our bards of to-day will 
 pray for the death of peace. There are many circumstances which 
 remove from ourselves the horrors of war. The scene has not been laid 
 in our land for many generations ; we have forgotten the look of the ruined 
 village and the desolated champaign ; we can only guess at the real hue of 
 mangled limbs and bleeding wounds. Nor is this all ; the sober current 
 of national life flows evenly in a clear-hewn channel ; the wheels of the 
 car of state follow quietly in the beaten groove. "We have leisure to mark 
 the social blots, we descry easily the shallow thought and heartless life, 
 we long for a grand passion, a stirring impulse which shall rouse us to 
 know ourselves and one another better, and live more as men and fellow- 
 citizens should. And such, we sometimes conceive, might be found in 
 the excitement of" war. And yet somehow our armies have fought and 
 perished, and our coffers have been emptied, and all our state energies 
 aroused for combat ; and we find still that chicory is mixed with coffee, 
 and bank directors rob their creditors, and but for the private sorrows, 
 and a few great lessons we have learnt, it is as though the war had 
 never been. 
 
 1 Contributed to Academica, May 1858.
 
 298 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 We are justified, then, in inquiring, whether these anticipations de- 
 served to be realised ; whether there was truly any foundation for the idea 
 that society would be bettered and the tone of public feeling raised by the 
 proclamation of a European war. If we find that these hopes were desti- 
 tute of a good ground and substance, and that we must look for the 
 greatest development of the better national feelings not in conflicts with 
 other nations only, but also and rather in those purposes and energies 
 which are consistent with the enjoyment of the profoundest peace and 
 most friendly foreign relations then we shall have reason to believe that 
 civilisation is a real working agency for good after all : and that the por- 
 tion of the national frame which may be used to the greatest advantage is 
 not, as poets fable, the muscles, but the mind. 
 
 Such a poem as ' Maud ' can plead no exemption from the laws of posi- 
 tive argument, so far as the poem itself is didactic in tenor. Nor is the 
 madness of the hero a shield against the assaults which may fairly be 
 made against it ; since it only serves, as far as we can see, to soften and 
 tone down the harsh propositions which would otherwise perhaps hardly 
 have obtained the assent which has largely been granted to them. Now 
 in this poem it is indicated that we are being consumed by the canker of 
 peace. We have made it, we read, far from a blessing ; society is rotten, 
 trade dishonest, we are virtually at war with one another. Burglary and 
 drunkenness are in particular some of the fruits of peace, and fatten on 
 the pastoral hillock. Now if splendid language and a rhythm new and 
 entrancing were sufficient to insure what after all is simply true political 
 economy, we of course should not venture to criticise those eloquent 
 verses of the Laureate. But is the stigma on peace one rightly and fairly 
 deserved ? are these specified evils to be traced to these specified causes ? 
 We think not. Society is rotten? We doubt very much whether the 
 Tory lord gave up his dinners when he heard of the entrance into the 
 Black Sea. The news of Balaclava did not shorten our milliners' bills, or 
 annihilate for ever morning calls. Trade dishonest ? Yet Paul and 
 Strahan may have speculated in the war loan, and Robson and Eedpath 
 did somehow swindle through it all. Fraud did not cease when we sent 
 our armies out ; and the analysis of the ' Lancet ' did more to purify our 
 food than the message from her Majesty to the Commons. Is the love 
 of gold the parent of all cheating and malice ? Yet surely this is a mere 
 phase of the general plague of competition ; and a myriad of Laureates 
 would fail to convince us that a restriction on the necessaries of life has 
 a tendency to remove this curse. Let us boldly state what we believe ; 
 the richer a nation is, so far the more prosperous it is, and the more happy 
 its inhabitants ; and if we have no reason to suppose that peace is a fruit- 
 ful mother of crime, in the name of all social science, let us be peaceful, 
 and prosperous, and rich. Our brute instincts teach us that to fight is 
 part of our nature ; and a necessary part, too, as history shows ; but if 
 we read and believed some few of our popular works just now, we should 
 run the risk of laying them down persuaded that the object of reason and 
 Christianity was not to regulate our brute instincts, but to stimulate
 
 MODERN WAR 299 
 
 them. Deny it if you will, each member who sat on committee the other 
 morning upon Church rates was a better object of veneration than any of 
 the vieiUes moustaches or the older beaux sabreurs. 
 
 Are we then to deny that a just war, justly waged, has its uses ? Let 
 us separate the justice and the use, and acknowledge the benefit only in 
 the large agencies for good which the sense of a right action will always 
 have. The late war was commenced, carried on, and completed for a 
 single, clear, and righteous object the maintenance of the police of 
 Europe, the sustaining in all its integrity of a system which we share for 
 the common profit, the resistance to aggression, not because it directly 
 injured us, but because we were conscious that the offence was an indirect 
 injury to all, and that it attacked an individual part of the common body 
 of European interest which it was our duty to defend. The very fact of 
 suffering for this object was a glory and benefit to all ; but when once we 
 pass this point, when once we lay the glory in the pride of repelling the 
 usurper, when we once in the very slightest degree wage war for the sake 
 of success, when Alma and Inkermann fill us with any sensations beyond 
 pleasure at the certainty of our own strength, this feeling of a common 
 interest either vanishes or becomes a curse, because it is selfish ; and the 
 common energy shows itself no longer a harmonising principle, but an 
 endeavour for common aggrandisement. Now has there been, on the 
 other hand, in a kindred though different department of the public service, 
 something lately of a higher glory gained ? Have we had before us 
 something which may perhaps hereafter be a still greater cause of re- 
 joicing than all the triumphs of the war ? Is there something which 
 gives greater hopes of national prosperity and advancement than the 
 unanimous vote of money to the Queen or the stubborn resistance of that 
 November morning ? Have we not that speech, spoken by an English 
 representative at the Congress of Paris, the substance of which the 
 cramped minute boldly but eloquently shadows forth ? 
 
 ' The Earl of Clarendon, having demanded permission to lay before 
 the Congress a proposition which he thinks should be favourably received, 
 states that the calamities of war are still too present to every mind not 
 to make it desirable to seek out every expedient calculated to prevent 
 their return. That a stipulation had been inserted in Art. vii. of the 
 Treaty of Peace, recommending that in case of difference between the 
 Porte and one or more of the other signing Powers, recourse should be 
 had to the mediation of a friendly state before resorting to force. The 
 First Plenipotentiary of Great Britain conceives that this happy innova- 
 tion might receive a more general application, and thus become a barrier 
 against conflicts which frequently only break forth because it is not 
 always possible to enter into explanation and come to an understanding. 
 He proposes, therefore, to agree to a resolution,' &c. 
 
 Well spoken, representative of England ! Is not this a positive gain ? 
 May we not presume that we have here the germ of a system which after 
 years and years may lead us, in spite of all the ' Mauds ' that can be written, 
 to cast our hopes, not on the coming of a Russian fleet against Portsmouth,
 
 300 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 but on the steady and unselfish working of honest diplomacy, and very 
 possibly a multitude of those processes of civilisation which more than 
 one parliamentary orator would call hypocrisies and shams '? 
 
 And yet there are those who grow weary of mere prosperity, who see 
 the evil much more vividly than the good, who have no sympathy with 
 that patient and profound analysis which has elicited the great principles 
 of social and political well-being. Forgetting that in ninety-nine cases 
 out of a hundred in the world's history it has involved a folly and a crime ; 
 forgetting that even with every favourable construction it contains a 
 strange and mystifying anomaly when waged by a Christian nation ; 
 omitting the consideration of the physical suffering, and disregarding that 
 of the moral contradiction, they call for some whirlwind of war to sweep 
 away the noxious vapours which they see lazily gathering round the 
 apathy of our prosperous peace. 
 
 It would be well sometimes to consider, when invoking the whirlwind, 
 what the object and end of the whirlwind is. War for the sake of 
 aggrandisement is now abandoned, in name at least, if not in practice. 
 War for the sake of polemic proselytism, whether civil or religious, has 
 been during the last half-century condemned. We do not now cast 
 jealous eyes on Normandy, or send men-of-war on a mission for the 
 advancement of constitutional principles. Europe seems now to have 
 reached the higher ground of morality which lays bare the maxim that 
 war is just only for self-defence. Whether self-defence relate merely to 
 the repelling of foreign invasion, or have another larger meaning whereby 
 tenfold strength is given to the cause of order the meaning which in- 
 cludes the maintenance of the integrity of each nation by the arms of all 
 in common can hardly be questioned by a people which has lately 
 fought and suffered for the cause of the family of nations. But if there is 
 one thing more certain than another in the whole subject of international 
 ethics, if there is one point upon which no dispute can be maintained and 
 no doubt arise, it is that war is an evil which is better, if possible, avoided. 
 Which cardinal fact we are likely, it would seem, either to forget or 
 deny. 
 
 The fact is, that all profit, all social advantage, which could have 
 arisen from the late war, was neutralised by its distance. We never saw 
 the enemy's fleet come yonder round by the hill. We never felt the rush 
 of the shot from the three-decker out of the foam. When Philip swore 
 to crush the small proud island, and the great Armada was first descried 
 by the fishing-boat from Plymouth Sound, yeomen assembled, and mer- 
 chant captains banded, the apprentices of London shouldered the 
 blunderbuss, and the Queen came down and reviewed them. Enemies of 
 twenty years shook hands, factions which hated to the death were one 
 again ; one heart, one soul breathed through the island, lord and lout, 
 Papist and Reformer. When the last ultimatum was rejected in '54, 
 and her Britannic Majesty's representative at St. Petersburg declared 
 that the violent construction which Count Nesselrode put on the treaty of 
 Adrianople obliged him to request his passports a slight increase of 
 activity was observed in the neighbourhood of the national dockyards, a
 
 MODERN WAE 301 
 
 rather unusual excitement in the barrack towns ; the country at large 
 read with interest and curiosity the reports of the special correspondent ; 
 and paid with a grumble of discontent the extra seven-pence in the pound. 
 
 So be it. But let us keep the chronology true. If the effect of war 
 is changed, let us confess it. One great influence which used to work 
 upon our people, the uniting and banding effect of a common danger, the 
 brave unanimity inspired by a common mighty enterprise, is nearly gone ; 
 and who would wish it back ? Let us, if the course of the world so bid, 
 if the lauded work of Christianity compel, if the glorious destinies of 
 commerce constrain, let us resign this good, which was then so dearly 
 bought. Has it given way to a better and more elevated influence ? Has 
 it left its substitute ? 
 
 Its substitute is graver, stronger, and better. It is the altered pur- 
 pose of the man, which may be nobler, if fate so will, than the easy 
 enthusiasm of the child. It is the sense which the prosperous nation, 
 under the new regime, will have, of strength used all for good ; of 
 energies which cannot be abused so long as they are used in peaceful 
 self-improvement. That ship is not the more compact which is always 
 beaten by the waves ; Hercules had his sinews as firmly braced when he 
 worked at Elis as at Nemea. And perhaps our land may have done 
 enough of late years in the way of slaying lions ; and it might not be 
 amiss for it to turn for a short time to the task of its Augean stables. 
 But whether this be its work or no, it will have to learn by some 
 work or other that the calm exercise of the national will even by the 
 modern system, the working for what is right and good by blue-books 
 and reports, debates and diplomacy, taxes and statistical returns, may 
 lift it to as high a pinnacle of social brotherhood and evangelic single- 
 heartedness, as if the cannon were thundering in the Channel, and all 
 Manchester turned out as one man to slay the French. It is not that 
 the nation has changed ; it is not that its work has degenerated ; it is 
 but that civilisation has brought its fruits ; and among them we reckon a 
 gravity of political action, which may indeed appear to obliterate the 
 freshness of popular energy, but leaves in its stead the possibility of 
 equal vigour combined with a recognition of the laws which have altered, 
 we believe for good, the relations which we bear, man to man, and 
 nation to nation. We are going on in a path which is not averse to 
 energy, and not repugnant to honesty ; we have openings wider and 
 wider every day for the lover of his country to do it what good he may. 
 If we wish, then, to go on and advance till we approach more nearly, and 
 as nearly as may here be, to the form of a perfect nation, if we desire 
 
 that 
 
 noble thought be freer under the sun, 
 
 And the heart of the nation beat with one desire, 
 
 let us ennoble that desire, and strive to enrich that thought not in a mere 
 outward enthusiasm caught from some instinct of the sinews, but by 
 those means which are prepared by the onward progress of humanity for 
 the use and benefit of nations which recognise their highest happiness in 
 the quiet routine of civilisation.
 
 302 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 IV 
 ON TEACHING BY MEANS OF GRAMMAR 1 
 
 IT may be useful to all persons who are disposed to take a conservative 
 view of any disputed question, to point out that one of two charges may 
 on all occasions be brought against an argument for reform. All topics, 
 except metaphysical ones, have a theoretical and a practical side ; and a 
 writer cannot easily discuss both at one and the same time. Nothing, 
 then, can be simpler than to urge in favour of an existing system, that 
 the theoretical objections to it are not practical, and that the practical 
 objections are not profound. But it is sometimes forgotten that a system 
 may be bad both in theory and in practice at once ; or, which is another 
 way of stating the case, the manner in which it is worked may be wrong, 
 and the reasons for establishing it at all may be wrong also. Those who 
 desire in great measure to remodel English education have, for the most 
 part, views not only as to the substance but as to the manner of teaching ; 
 and these views are fairly separable. The present essay will relate almost 
 entirely to method. It will assume that other things have at least as 
 much right as the classical languages to form the basis of modern train- 
 ing, and that it is desirable nevertheless that at some age and to some 
 persons classics should still be taught. The question which it will discuss 
 is whether the mode of teaching classics by a laborious preliminary 
 instruction in grammar is the best mode possible. 
 
 Pedantry is not only the commonest vice, and the worst vice, of 
 schoolmasters, but it is one towards which everyone who has engaged 
 in the work of teaching must have repeatedly been conscious of a ten- 
 dency. The work of every profession, no doubt, takes an undue import- 
 ance in the eyes of men who devote themselves to it laboriously ; but that 
 of a teacher is peculiarly favourable to the development of crotchets. 
 Let a clever man study assiduously the properties of a Greek particle or 
 the ramifications of a theorem in mathematics, and he will be sure to find 
 out some things which have not been found out before, to trace connec- 
 tions which no one has yet thought of tracing, to illuminate his subject 
 by the relation which he will find it bear to other branches of knowledge. 
 There may be much good in what he does ; but he " will be more than 
 human if he can help regarding his work as exceptionally interesting and 
 
 1 Contributed in 1867 to Essays mi a Liberal Education, edited by the 
 Rev. F. W. Farrar, now (1902) Dean of Canterbury.
 
 TEACHING BY MEANS OF GEAMMAE 303 
 
 valuable. He will find it fill much of his mind, and thrust itself in front 
 of other branches of study which in reality have equal value ; he will give 
 to it a natural emphasis in his own thoughts, and an artificial prominence 
 in the culture which he urges upon others. A kind of paternal solicitude 
 will at any rate add weight to his favourite topic, and personal vanity 
 will not impossibly help it. Now, in most other professions a man deals 
 with his equals, sees things in constantly varying lights, rubs off his in- 
 tellectual as well as his social angles. But a teacher is without this 
 advantage. He is not under immediate control ; public opinion acts upon 
 him only indirectly and at a long interval of time ; he is not at the mercy 
 of those with whom he is brought into contact, and his results are seldom 
 so patent that the connection of cause and effect can be traced with much 
 precision. There arises as the consequence of this a fixed impression 
 that his own work is the best possible, simply because it has been the 
 most fruitful to himself : an impression not so much irrational as un- 
 reasoning. The belief is not necessarily untrue, but the chances are 
 greatly against it. At any rate it can hardly fail to be narrow and 
 illiberal. Ask a disciple of Person whether it is really the case that the 
 chief object of examining the language of the classical writers is that one 
 may know what the writers have got to say, and he will admit the pro- 
 position with so many limitations and modifications as to make it obvious 
 that he hardly admits it at all. 
 
 It is quite certain, indeed, that the object which is now intended in 
 the teaching of Latin and Greek must be different from what it was in 
 the days of Queen Elizabeth. At that time schools and universities made 
 boys learn those languages in order that they might have some acquaint- 
 ance with the authors who wrote in them. No sane man can assert that 
 the same object is pursued at present, unless he is prepared to allow that 
 it is sought at the avowed cost of sacrificing the many to the few. It is 
 the evident failure to carry out the original intention of classical studies, 
 which has made it necessary to bring more prominently forward the sup- 
 posed advantages of grammar. If boys, it is felt, cannot in general be 
 brought to get any good from the thoughts of Plato and Homer by their 
 study of the tongue in which they wrote, at all events they will have the 
 advantage of studying the words and constructions which they used. 
 Without altogether denying the truth of this assertion, it is well to re- 
 member the position which it takes in the argument. No pleas are more 
 open to suspicion than those which are urged in support of a falling cause. 
 When we have to invent some new doctrine to prop up an institution 
 which originally existed in virtue of a doctrine wholly different, we feel 
 that we are treading at once on treacherous ground. The view that is 
 promulgated may have its merits, but they are not generally found to be 
 the precise merits which suffice to bear up the fabric. When paganism 
 was seen to be untrue, it was said that at all events it was useful. When 
 rotten boroughs were found to interfere with the representation of the 
 country, it was pleaded that at any rate they produced Lord Macaulay. 
 As regards the teaching of grammar, it sometimes seems as if it would
 
 304 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 be a good thing to attempt to express distinctly, after the manner of Mr. 
 Charles Buxton in his ' Ideas of the Day,' the grounds upon which it is 
 based in the minds of those who assert its importance. They seem to fall 
 under three heads : there is the idea that grammar is useful for the sake 
 of teaching the language ; the idea that its difficulties are useful as a 
 moral training; and the idea that it is a desirable object of study for its 
 own sake. We may consider these as being the only ideas generally 
 entertained ; for the view, which was expressed last year in a pamphlet 
 by an eminent composer of a school grammar, to the effect that grammar 
 and religion are so closely connected that uniformity in the one is the 
 first step to uniformity in the other, has not been accepted so widely 
 that we need stop to discuss it here. The ideas just mentioned we may 
 proceed to consider in detail. 
 
 I. The first of them we will meet with a direct negative. By 
 grammar is, of course, meant a formal analysis of usage, in respect of 
 inflexion and syntax. Can it be said that this system of teaching by 
 means of grammar is the most successful now ? It will be remembered 
 that the only question for the moment is how a language may be most 
 quickly learnt. The problem is solved every day by grown-up men and 
 women. There is not an Englishman in the country who, if he wanted 
 to learn French, would begin by committing to memory a whole volume 
 of rules and formulae. By doing so, he would certainly succeed in the 
 end ; but he would know that it would be a waste of time and labour. 
 What does the captain of a boat club at the universities do, if he wants 
 to teach a man to row ? Does he keep him practising, on dry land, the 
 motions which he will have to perform, and fixing in his memory the laws 
 which are to guide him when he enters upon work at last ? Nothing of 
 the kind. If you wish to make a man row, you will give him an oar and 
 show him how ; you will make him feel what it is like ; you will make 
 him sit behind a good pattern of the art ; you will give him the advice, 
 just as you see that he needs it. There is nothing in the whole world 
 which is not learnt best by trying. ' Per parlare bene,' says the old 
 Italian proverb, ' bisogna parlare male.' No doubt there is necessary for 
 all practice some rudimentary conception of what the work is likely to 
 be. A man must know which end of the oar he is to hold in his hand, 
 and which to dip in the water. A child cannot do much in the classics 
 till a few simple declensions have been taught him. But the sooner he 
 can begin to ' pick up ' the language, the better. Let him get familiar 
 with the commonest words, and know what they mean in English. Let 
 him translate and re-translate the easiest possible sentences with no 
 grammatical analysis in his head ; let certain words in Latin correspond 
 to certain others in English. He will see, as a matter of course, that a 
 nominative comes syntactically before a verb ; and he will see it far 
 more clearly and truly than if he knew the fact from having learnt it in 
 the form of a rule. If we have once made sure that a boy considers the 
 expression ' Us are going out ' as absurd and grotesque, he not only knows, 
 with regard to the subject of a simple sentence, enough to enable him to
 
 TEACHING BY MEANS OF GEAMMAE 305 
 
 learn Latin and Greek without any further teaching on this head ; but it 
 may be a question whether he does not know all that there is to be said 
 on the subject. The study of language is, at the present day, the only 
 kind of study which deliberately professes to advance in a direction 
 exactly the reverse of every other branch of human progress. In every 
 other fruitful inquiry, we ascend from phenomena to principles. In 
 classical study alone, we profess to learn principles first, and then advance 
 to facts. 
 
 It will be remembered that we are not undervaluing the benefit that 
 the mind may receive from understanding grammatical principles. The 
 question is temporarily narrowed ; we are asking only how a language 
 may be most quickly learnt ; and we are insisting in reply that it is by 
 cultivating, as soon as possible, a familiarity with its words and sentences, 
 rather than with the principles upon which these are framed and joined. 
 It is a truly painful sight to see a boy sit down to master a set of clumsy 
 rules, of which he will never use the half, and never understand the 
 quarter. He is, as almost all boys are, willing to be taught. He is, as 
 very many are, prepared to submit to a reasonable amount of drudgery. 
 He is, we will say, of average ability and endurance. Of such a boy, 
 we will confidently assert that, for the purpose of learning the language 
 to the extent to which he will probably be able to carry it at school and 
 college, the greater part of what he has to learn in most grammars is 
 wholly useless. His time, his temper, his docility, his confidence in his 
 teachers, his desire to improve all these are sacrificed in order that 
 some analyst, for whose peculiar powers of mind the compilation of his 
 grammar may have been a charming exercise, may not have written in 
 vain. Pedantry gains, and English education suffers. 
 
 How, then, ought a set of boys to be trained, supposing that our im- 
 mediate object is to make them understand a Latin writer ? Plunge 
 them, we answer, at once into the delectus. Let them begin the trans- 
 lation of easy sentences even before they know the declensions by heart. 
 Never give a rule of any kind, unless it is one which is clearly and 
 obviously founded upon a collection of instances. Get the meaning 
 accurately, and the grammar may follow as its handmaid. Never let 
 time be wasted at a difficulty : if, when fairly coped with, it is insuper- 
 able, give quick and willing help. Be ready to tell liberally ; aim at 
 quantity as well as quality; treat inflexions invariably in connection 
 with their meanings. Make your accidence and syntax a result instead 
 of a basis. So far from believing that nil desperandum, be ready to 
 despair very often give up, that is, an attempt to force intelligence 
 beyond its natural Jimits. The construction of relatives, for example, 
 is a difficult subject to very young boys. If so, let it wait till they have 
 read more, and added some hundred or so of examples to their store. 
 In short, working always by means of reference to English, advancing 
 regularly from known to unknown, never once allowing a statement to 
 be taken on trust, or an abstract principle to precede its concrete illus- 
 tration, train boys to know many things which they cannot hope to 
 
 X
 
 306 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 understand, but never to hope to understand a thing which they have 
 not learnt to know. 
 
 In a Greek text-book, which is learnt by most English schoolboys, 
 there occurs, as the introduction to an elaborate system of tense-forming, 
 the following statement : ' Prsesens medium et passivum formatur a 
 prsesente activo mutando w in o/im, ut rinrTco, rvjrTOfiai.' This rule is 
 supposed to be learnt by young boys in order that they may the better 
 understand the Greek language. Now, in the first place, the statement 
 is, as so many other rules of the same kind, absolutely false. The present 
 passive was never yet formed from a verb in o>. The comparatively 
 simple form in opai was in existence long before the contracted termina- 
 tion of the active. But, a grammarian may say, the pupil who has the 
 active before him will now be able to form the passive for himself. Did 
 any pupil ever do so since the world began ? Why, he has just been 
 learning the inflexion of rvn-ro^at in his very last lesson. As a matter of 
 fact, schoolboys know very well that, when they want to think of a rule 
 for the formation of a tense, they have to think first what the word is, and 
 then what is the best way to get it. Their instinct reverses the illogical 
 order which the grammar has tried to force upon them. Monstrous as 
 these arbitrary rules are, they are but a sample of the substance of which 
 grammars are generally full ; and they are expressed in a language which 
 the boys, however much they may translate it, can never at this period 
 understand and make their own. It has sometimes occurred to us to 
 fancy but that the thing can hardly be fancied a teacher of some other 
 department of study attempting to succeed by the same means as those 
 which we have described. We will suppose that a professor of chemistry 
 is beginning work with his class. Proceeding upon the classical prin- 
 ciples, he will first commit the whole of his knowledge to a volume, which 
 he will draw up in a dry and technical style, and, if possible, in a dead 
 language. Of this he will ask his class to learn a certain portion every 
 day, and to believe the time may come when they may want it. He will 
 perform a few experiments, every detail of which he will refer to their 
 position in the book. He will urge as carefully as he can that the phos- 
 phorus takes fire, not because chemical force is set at liberty, but because 
 the book says that it shall. He will introduce into his book-lessons the 
 rarest metals and the most elaborate combinations, not because the pupils 
 will commonly use them in the laboratory, but because his system is not 
 complete without them. And when he finds that his disciples hate their 
 work, and, in practice, hardly know an acid from a base, he will believe 
 that the fault lies not in his mode of teaching, but in the unfortunate 
 incompleteness of his book. 
 
 Waste of time and waste of energy generally go together. The per- 
 petual routine of text-books wearies, distresses, dissipates. That one 
 method of study is more pleasant than another is no small argument in 
 its favour, if this pleasure mainly consists in a rapid process of the in- 
 tellect. Lexicons, by what we have said, are to beginners almost as 
 noxious as grammars. Everyone who knows Greek in the end must
 
 307 
 
 remember well how dreary have been the hours which he has spent upon 
 the simply mechanical exercise of turning over leaves, with his eye fixed 
 upon the heading of the page. It is monotonous, it is unintellectual, it is 
 distasteful in the highest degree ; and there is not a public schoolmaster 
 in the kingdom who has the courage and the benevolence to dispense with 
 it. Lexicons must no doubt exist, for they are needed in many ways ; 
 but there is no worse way of discovering the English equivalent of a 
 simple word than looking it out in a dictionary. It is better to have a 
 glossary ; it is better to ask a teacher ; it is better even to have a literal 
 translation : better, simply because these methods do not waste the time 
 of the learner and do not spoil his temper. In his first book of Homer 
 an average boy will look out somewhere between two and three thousand 
 words in his lexicon, and spend, on a moderate computation, from forty to 
 fifty hours in the search. Grievous, however, as his waste of time in this 
 direction is, it is work of the fingers alone ; the lessons of grammar that 
 he learns will torture his brains as much, and will not even give him the 
 satisfaction of feeling in the end that he has gained his grain of know- 
 ledge. He will have done something, it is true ; he will not have been 
 idle ; he will have done as hard work as people do who turn a treadmill. 
 The use of grammar has been defended on the score that it, after all, 
 does give something for dull boys to do. The argument is perfectly clear. 
 It is upheld as being, after all, an excellent substitute for education. 
 
 Hitherto we have considered grammar as a help to the knowledge of 
 Greek and Latin ; and from the idea of grammar we exclude a few simple 
 paradigms and all kind of oral explanation. We assert that systematic 
 grammar, complete, technical, printed in a book, for the purpose of 
 learning the dead languages, is more an encumbrance than a help : the 
 value of grammar itself we have not for a moment denied. 
 
 III. But it is as an end, not as a means, that it is valuable. When once 
 a language has been mastered, there are few uses to which the knowledge 
 can be more appropriately turned than that of obtaining some insight 
 into its organism. One student may care chiefly to investigate the 
 history of its inflexions and the architecture of its words ; another may 
 find more interest in analysing their mutual connection. Both paths of 
 study are worth pursuing for their own sake, and some steps may be made 
 towards both, even while the language itself is being learnt. Only let it 
 be accepted as a cardinal law of education, that before it can do any profit- 
 able work the mind must have material to work upon. The study of 
 Logic presents a close parallel to the study of grammar. It would be 
 possible to conceive a boy taught to argue from first principles. If, by 
 enormous labour, fre could instil into his mind the various rules of 
 Aldrich, and regard them as a code of laws which he was bound to obey 
 whenever a sequence of propositions presented itself to his mind, it is 
 conceivable that he might produce the requisite conclusion from the 
 premisses before him, though he had never conducted an argument before 
 in his life. Supposing that a system of this kind existed at our English 
 schools, it is more than likely that a great deal would be urged in its 
 
 x 2
 
 308 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 favour. It is necessary, it would be said, to imbue the niind with true 
 and proper rules, in order that it may be prepared to use them when the 
 time comes. To argue, we should be told, is nothing, unless one argues 
 from a comprehension of the rules of argument. The defenders of this 
 system would be no more driven from their position by the fact that many 
 people are logical without having been to Oxford, than the grammar writers 
 of the present day are confounded by the circumstance that Euripides 
 wrote excellent Greek without having ever heard of an optative mood. 
 
 Putting aside that part of grammar which depends on memory, the 
 rest is simply a logical training. It would be hard to find a better 
 practising ground than grammar for the logical studies of manhood, or 
 even of adolescence, simply because it is so copious and ready to hand. 
 Once given that the subject can be fairly grasped, and it is one which 
 repays a liberal expenditure of time. But it is curious that it should be 
 regarded at schools as the only vehicle through which logical ideas 
 should be instilled. Not till after many years of Latin and Greek does a 
 boy really come face to face with the thoughts which the grammars put 
 before him ; while considerations about all men being animals, but all 
 animals not being men, are so simple that boys of fifteen might well sit 
 down to attack them. ' The dative,' say the grammars, ' is the case of the 
 remoter object.' Nothing could be simpler to the understanding of any 
 of us who write, or who read, this volume. We have a clear, an edu- 
 cated comprehension of the remoter object ; the notion is something 
 more to us than a mere form of words. But an average boy does not, 
 will not, cannot actually get at it. He can be taught to know a remoter 
 object when he sees it in print ; he will say to himself that it is a kind of 
 thing which won't do for an accusative, and yet comes in and seems to 
 make sense. He knows it, as it were, on the outside ; he knows it as he 
 knows a word that is put in italics. Give him time, make him familiar 
 with dative constructions, let his mind get strength and flexibility, and 
 these grammatical conceptions will come to have a meaning to him ; but 
 tell him at the outset of his studies (as the grammars do) that the Latin 
 dative means the case of the remoter object, and you will merely add 
 another grain to that heap of evidence which is slowly accumulating in 
 his mind that learning is a thing unsuited for a young person of sense and 
 spirit. Yet easy logical exercises would be a pleasant task for the same 
 intellect which rejected the definition of the dative. The grammar book 
 the scientific part of it is simply too hard. High grammar is fit to 
 range with high astronomy or metaphysics. One actual teacher of boys, 
 at all events, will hereby venture to question whether the meaning of an 
 aorist is really ever grasped by anyone below the age of twenty. He 
 has found boys interested and intelligent when the nature of a syllogism, 
 or the fallacy of a proverb, are explained to them ; he doubts whether he 
 has ever thoroughly conveyed to the mind of any one pupil the difference 
 between ov and ^. 
 
 Let it be observed how naturally our view agrees with the practical 
 demands of education. It is confessed that most boys gam very little
 
 TEACHING BY MEANS OF GEAMMAE 309 
 
 from the knowledge of Greek and Latin that they pick up at school ; and 
 even if (which is devoutly to be wished) those only pursued the study of 
 language who were likely to make some progress in it, still, at the best, 
 it would be but a few who would be hi at the death when it came to the 
 dissection of the particles. In a word, very many learners can never 
 master grammar to any real purpose. The order of instruction which we 
 claim as natural would then be also the most convenient. The mass will 
 be able, when they cease their education, to know something of what the 
 Greek and Latin writers said : the select few will have found their way 
 on to the secondary goal, which but few of the writers themselves ever 
 reached, that of understanding the exact physiology of their language. 
 True, the study which we speak of as second in point of time will prac- 
 tically follow along with the mere parlance in the case of a clever boy. 
 One group of phenomena in language well perceived, the synthesis and 
 comparison and arrangement of these and other groups will not be an 
 affair of difficulty. Tt is not to be supposed that the acquaintance with 
 the speech itself must be perfect before the other study commences. 
 This is not the way in which any branch of knowledge subordinates itself 
 to another ; but the first may be, and ought to be, the measure of the 
 second. Let things be known in the rough, before they are polished into 
 shape. A grain of showing is worth a bushel of telling, whether the topic 
 be a handicraft or a virtue, the performance of a trick of cards, or the 
 construction of an infinitive mood. 
 
 We are by no means inclined, indeed, to make immoderate concessions, 
 or regard the final attainment of grammatical principles as among the 
 loftiest achievements of the mind. What, after all, is this ' scholarship,' 
 upon the possession of which so many of us, with more or less reason, are 
 in the habit of priding ourselves ? A ir an is a fine scholar, a beautiful 
 scholar, a finished scholar. What does this mean ? It is simply that he 
 remembers accurately the words and phrases that each particular Greek 
 or Latin author was most in the habit of using or, it may happen, of 
 abusing. He knows exactly how often this trick of language occurs in 
 Pindar, and within what limits that turn of a sentence is capable of being 
 employed by Ovid. How far in intellectual growth has such an accom- 
 plishment brought him ? Why, it is a knowledge which we should almost 
 blush to possess in regard of Addison and Macaulay. Exactly so far as it 
 makes us understand Greek thought better, it is worth having ; but how 
 miserably incommensurate are the means with the end. In Greek 
 tragedy, a woman, when she speaks of herself in the plural, uses the 
 masculine gender ; and when ehe speaks of herself in the masculine, uses 
 the plural. Here* is a piece of knowledge, perfectly true, laboriously 
 proved, necessary for writing Greek iambics ; and most of us who profess 
 to know the classical languages would be ashamed of being without it. 
 Well, how far does it go ? Probably though not certainly, for there is 
 the widely reaching element of chance, seldom sufficiently recognised in 
 philology probably this practice corresponds, if we could only see it, to 
 some sentiment lurking in the Athenian mind. The person who knows
 
 310 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 thoroughly half a hundred of such canons, will have a better equipment 
 for ransacking and mastering Greek ideas than another who does not. 
 That is to say, a minute acquaintance with words and phrases does in the 
 end, and through much patience, help the clever man to place himself 
 more fully at the point of view of an Athenian. 
 
 Let this be granted ; and now let us glance at the result. Is it gene- 
 rally the case, that the ' beautiful scholar ' is the man who brings out 
 most treasures from the chambers the dim light of which is clearer to 
 him than to others ? Is it not more often found that his long toil has 
 made him confound the means with the end, and value his scholarship in 
 regard of itself alone ? The main object of seeing distinctly what Plato 
 and Cicero thought, is that one may be able to look on all questions not 
 only on the side which they now present, but on that also which they 
 turned to observers long ago ; to gain, as it were, a kind of intellectual 
 parallax in contemplating the problems of life. Can it be fairly claimed, 
 that high scholarship, the higher it reaches, attains more completely this 
 object ? The reverse notoriously is the case. We know well enough what 
 becomes of the man who gives up his time to particles. He is not the 
 man to whom, in nine cases out of ten, his generation turns for help. 
 There grows upon a society of ' beautiful scholars ' a distaste for things in 
 which taste and refinement have little room for display, and in which 
 breadth is more important than accuracy ; and the result is a lack of 
 sympathy with human struggles and cares. Let some social or political 
 movement arise, in which a man of real intellectual power, real eloquence, 
 and evident sincerity aspires, in spite of ignorance of the classics, to take 
 a leading part. He will find favour with but a minority of the writers of 
 dictionaries and grammars. One will see narrowness of mind, another 
 will insist on discovering vulgarity of tone. With some he will be too 
 base in thought, with others coarse in manner. But all will be down 
 upon his language. A man of classical education, we shall hear, would 
 never have spoken of the ' works ' of Thucydides ; a man of real culture 
 could never value the penny press as a means of popular instruction. He 
 mispronounced an English word last session ; he did not understand when 
 an allusion was made to Fatroclus ; to save his life he could not cap a 
 line in the second book of the JLneid : 
 
 Et les moindres defauts de ce grossier gnie 
 Sont on le pleonasme, on la cacophonie. 
 
 How much better to be able to set a common-room right upon some 
 mystic conceit of ^Eschylus, or correct a class of boys (out of their Primer 
 on the gender of clunis and aplen. 
 
 It is not, however, the object of this essay to disparage the know- 
 ledge of Latin and Greek. They may be purchased, and often are, at 
 too high a price ; but those who have gained them most easily will be 
 least likely to hold them too dear. Montaigne was not a man disposed 
 to shut his eyes to the world around him, because he had learnt to speak 
 Latin before he was able to write French. The advocates of a natural
 
 TEACHING BY MEANS OP GEAMMAE 311 
 
 and easy method of classical teaching are sometimes challenged to give 
 instances of the success of their system. It is certainly not easy to do 
 so, for of late years the grammar writers have had it all their own way, 
 and the one German apostle of a natural mode of teaching finished his 
 career in prison ; but the results of the teaching of Jacotot in France 
 and Belgium are such as have never been surpassed, and it will be time 
 enough to pronounce a system impossible when in learning any modern 
 language we cease to practise it ourselves. At any rate, there is good 
 enough authority for learning Latin in this way. Milton distinctly urges 
 it, and Locke in substance ; but it is older than either. ' Our moat 
 noble Queen Elizabeth,' says Eoger Ascham, ' never yet took Greek nor 
 Latin grammar in her hand after the first declining of a noun and a 
 verb.' In a year or two, by copious translation and re-translation, she 
 learnt both languages well. It was with Lilly's Grammar that the more 
 pedantic system came in ; and that Grammar, as its preface shows, was 
 never originally intended to be learnt consecutively or by rote. 
 
 It has been said, with some degree of truth, that learning by heart is 
 the great intellectual vice of boys. Perhaps it would be fairer to say 
 that the tendency is so strong that it is almost certain to be misapplied. 
 With boys of good or average memory and none others ought to learn 
 classics the tendency will be directed rightly if they are made to learn 
 examples of construction by heart, and carefully prevented from 
 embodying the doctrines taught them in any set form of words. In the 
 Primer which has lately been put into the hands of the boys at most of 
 the public schools, the first two pages of syntax consist of words of an 
 average length of about three syllables each. Now there is no doubt 
 that a boy of good memory will learn these, in time, to whatever degree 
 of perfection his masters care to enforce ; and if they were written back- 
 wards he would learn them almost as easily. But the idea that a young 
 boy will ever think in polysyllables is almost humorous. The better he 
 knows the words, indeed, the less will be, in many cases, his attempt to 
 attach a meaning to them. The parrot does not only not think, but it 
 even prevents itself from thinking. The pupil who is reading his Euclid 
 will know it less well, for purposes of culture, if he attempts to commit 
 it to memory. What is the reason that we have given up the notion 
 of enforcing the duties of morality upon the rising generation by means of 
 memorial precepts in English or Latin prose ? It is not that the ideas of 
 duty which they would convey are less likely than in former times to meet 
 with illustrations in common life. It is simply because the duty is in 
 most cases not a matter of formula ; and even when it is so, the words 
 of a formula have* a tendency to remain in the corner of the memory 
 where they have been placed. The same is true of Latin composition. 
 A very few memorial rules are useful in cases where usage alone is a 
 guide to what is correct ; but even these have no educational value what- 
 ever, and any other than these absolutely interfere with the right under- 
 standing of a principle. 
 
 There has been some discussion during the past year with regard to
 
 312 EDWARD BO WEN 
 
 the introduction into the chief public schools of Dr. Kennedy's ' Public 
 School Primer.' Into the merits of the book itself it is not necessary now 
 to enter, because, in the first place, it is irrevocably accepted at the nine 
 public schools ; and, in the second place, the general opinion of persons 
 interested in education has already condemned the work. But, indepen- 
 dently of its merits or demerits, the introduction of an universal text- 
 book is distinctly a retrograde step in education. It was clearly felt to 
 be so not long ago in Germany ; and the idea, which had been mooted 
 a few years back, was dropped by general consent. It is with us much 
 as if the study of Aristotle were imposed once more by the authority of 
 the Church, or an adherence to the unities by that of the managers 
 of the London theatres. It implies the belief, which will at once be 
 recognised as a heresy, that there are such things as eternal and 
 immutable rules of language ; that a Latin grammar is to be considered, 
 not as an interpreter of Latin, but, as it were, its authorised legislator. 
 "What is meant by a declension ? Is it a division which the language 
 consciously employed? Is it one which is certain, and beyond the 
 domain of controversy ? Has it any claim to be regarded as the embodi- 
 ment of a law in the sense in which the word is used in science ? 
 Not at all. Distributing words into declensions is simply the best means 
 that we can contrive for organising them in a way which shall appear 
 to the memory as symmetrical. The analysis of words was pushed 
 very far among the Romans, and yet Quintilian wrote a chapter on 
 grammar without ever mentioning the classes of declensions at all. 
 What is to be inferred is, not that declensions are not useful, but that 
 the division is an arbitrary one ; and that any plan of education can 
 have but little confidence in its teaching which will bind itself for the 
 next twenty or thirty years to believe in five declensions rather than in 
 eight or ten. No reason can be given for the compulsory uniformity of 
 English schools in their method of teaching the analysis of the Latin 
 language, which would not equally tend to show that the Universities of 
 Oxford and Cambridge are bound to adopt the same text-book of algebra 
 for continuous use. This might easily be done, and an inferior book be 
 stereotyped for a long time to come. As it is, fresh books supersede one 
 another as the methods of algebraical working improve, and the reign of 
 a single author at Cambridge lasts sometimes two years, sometimes 
 twenty. In the teaching of languages, as a matter of fact, one good 
 teacher will have one way of instructing, and another another. Common 
 sense points out that if a boy only learns a thing well, it matters little 
 in what way he has reached his knowledge. As for bad teachers, they 
 will simply save their credit and their labour by teaching the Primer 
 straight through by heart. 
 
 One is driven, sometimes, in thinking of these and similar mistakes, 
 to the verge of asserting that books are the great obstacle to education. 
 Whether this be too audacious a paradox or not, our teaching wants sadly 
 to be humanised. There will be some gain, no doubt, when it is once
 
 TEACHING BY MEANS OF GBAMMAE 313 
 
 clearly understood that there is no absolute connection between riches and 
 the dead languages, and that a boy need not in every case be set down to 
 a course of study for which he may be wholly unfit, just because his 
 parents or guardians happen to be able to pay for it. But is it too much 
 to hope that the classical teaching itself may some day cease to be the 
 dull routine which it now so often is ? It may have been remarked that 
 in considering the reasons for which grammar may be taught, we have 
 omitted the second of our three ideas the one which considers that the 
 difficulties in a course of study ought to be left there as introducing a 
 moral education in the struggle which is necessary for overcoming them. 
 A person who will assert this is beyond the pale of argument. It is not 
 worth while to discuss whether a method ought to be easy or hard. But 
 we should even go on to say that it is the duty of a teacher not to rest 
 as long as any difficulty exists which by any change of method can be 
 removed. Involuntary learning is of as little use to the mind as involun- 
 tary exercise to the body. 
 
 Now it is certain that a large proportion of boys dislike the work 
 which they have to do. Some like it ; some are indifferent ; a great many 
 simply hate it. We maintain that an educator of boys has no business 
 to be satisfied as long as this is the case. A very few may dislike all 
 intellectual labour, just as a very few men dislike it ; but these cases 
 are as rare with boys as with men. The great mass of human beings, 
 whether young or old, have appetites for mental food of some kind, and 
 the reason that so many turn away from it is, that what is given them is 
 not what they can digest. There is a sort of incongruity, which falls 
 little short of injustice, in punishing a boy for being idle, when we know 
 that the work which the system of his school exacts is as cramping and 
 distorting to his mind as an ill-fitting boot to the foot. No one would 
 claim indeed that every pupil shall have his tastes suited with minute 
 accuracy ; and the energy of a boy, if he is in good health, and otherwise 
 happy, will carry him through minor difficulties. But no young boy 
 since the world began has liked a Latin syntax, or a ' formation of 
 tenses,' or felt anything in them for his mind to fasten upon and care for. 
 Consider the case of a stupid boy, or an unclassical boy, at school, and the 
 load of repulsive labour which we lay upon him. For many hours every 
 day we expect him to devote himself, without hope of distinction or 
 reward, to a subject which he dislikes and fears. He has no interest in 
 it ; he has no expectation of being the better for it ; he never does well ; 
 he rarely escapes doing ill. He is sometimes treated with strictness for 
 faults to which the successful among his neighbours have no temptation ; 
 and, when he is not visited with punishment, he at least is often regarded 
 with contempt. He may be full of lively sympathies, eager after things 
 that interest him, willing even to sacrifice something for the sake of 
 becoming wiser ; but all that he gets in the way of intellectual education 
 is a closer familiarity with a jargon the existence of which in the world 
 seems to him to controvert the Argument from Design, and the chance
 
 314 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 scraps of historical and literary knowledge which fall from the lips of his 
 routine-bound master. If only it could be regarded as an established 
 truth that the office of a teacher is, more than anything else, to educate 
 his pupils ; to cause their minds to grow and work, rather than simply 
 to induce them to receive ; to look to labour rather than to weigh specific 
 results ; to make sure at the end of a school-half that each one of those 
 entrusted to him has had something to interest him, quicken him, cause 
 him to believe in knowledge, rather than simply to repeat certain pages 
 of a book without a mistake then we might begin to fancy the golden 
 time was near at hand when boys will come up to their lessons, as they 
 surely ought, with as little hesitation and repugnance as that with which 
 a man sits down to his work. 
 
 This is indeed something worth being enthusiastic for. To convince 
 boys that intellectual growth is noble, and intellectual labour happy, that 
 they are travelling on no purposeless errand, mounting higher every step 
 of the way, and may as truly enjoy the toil that lifts them above their 
 former selves, as they enjoy a race or a climb ; to help the culture of 
 their minds by every faculty of moral force, of physical vigour, of 
 memory, of fancy, of humour, of pathos, of banter, that we have our- 
 selves, and lead them to trust in knowledge, to hope for it, to cherish it ; 
 this, succeed as it may here and fail there, quickened as it may be by 
 health and sympathy, or deadened by fatigue or disappointment, is a 
 work which has in it most of the elements which life needs to give it zest. 
 It is not to be done by putting books before boys, and hearing them so 
 much at a time ; or by offering prizes and punishments ; or by assuring 
 them that every English gentleman knows Horace. It is by making it 
 certain to the understanding of every one that we think the knowledge 
 worth having ourselves, and mean in every possible way, by versatile oral 
 teaching, by patient guidance, by tone and manner and look, by anger 
 and pity, by determination even to amuse, by frank allowance for dullness 
 and even for indolence, to help them to attain a little of what gives us 
 such pleasure. A man, or an older pupil, can find this help in books ; a 
 young boy needs it from the words and gestures of a teacher. There is 
 no fear of loss of dignity. The work of teaching will be respected when 
 the things that are taught begin to deserve respect. 
 
 Above all, the work must be easy. Few boys are ever losers from find- 
 ing their task too simple, for they can always aspire to learning what is 
 harder; many have had their school career ruined from being set to 
 attack what was too hard. It may be said, perhaps, that what was easy 
 enough for past generations ought to be easy enough for the present. 
 Those who urge this view may simply be asked whether they are satisfied 
 with the working of the classical education that exists. We are not 
 bound to depend upon Dr. Liddell's testimony that public schoolmen are 
 generally ignorant of Greek and Latin, for there are obvious reasons 
 which would prevent the Dean of Christ Church from forming a satis- 
 factory opinion on the subject ; but, taking those who go to the University 
 with those who do not, can the education that is given be said to be the
 
 TEACHING BY MEANS OF GEAMMAE 315 
 
 best which modern ingenuity can contrive ? Allowing that the very best 
 scholars can assimilate anything whatever, and that with the very worst it 
 is next to useless to try at all, is it true to say that the average boys have 
 a fair chance of making the most of their powers ? If not, there are two 
 resources before the teacher. He can, as is elsewhere pointed out, vary 
 and enlarge the basis of education ; he can also, as we have ventured in 
 this essay to urge, teach classics so as to include more that is of rational 
 interest and less that is of pedantic routine.
 
 316 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 THE PROPOSED CONTROL OF THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS 
 BY THE UNIVERSITIES 
 
 [April 1872] 
 
 THE movement for subjecting the English Public Schools to the control 
 of the Universities has been undertaken in such good faith, and is being 
 pushed forward with such good intentions, that it must seem almost 
 ungracious to meet it with hostile criticism. But I doubt seriously 
 whether its promoters have ever clearly placed before themselves the 
 exact objects at which they aim, or the distinct consequences which may 
 ensue. This doubt is founded, partly on the history of the movement 
 itself, and partly on the fact that those who are mainly concerned in it 
 differ among themselves as to the desired objects to a degree which, in 
 any political or religious agitation, would long ago have rendered co- 
 operation impossible. I am still further induced to take this ground from 
 the circumstance that it has not hitherto been my fortune to meet with 
 any single person who professes on his own account, or with regard to the 
 interests of the institution with which he is connected, to entertain a 
 desire for such a control on its own intrinsic merits. 
 
 The title of these pages is confessedly adopted ad invidiam ; and it 
 will be part of my purpose to show that it is applicable. But it will be 
 necessary, in the first place, to mention how the movement arose, and to 
 describe its present position. 
 
 For the last two or three years the headmasters of some of the 
 public schools (I shall use the word with no narrow limitation, and define 
 it as including all schools which may wish to adopt the title) have held 
 some informal congresses at various places in the south of England, with 
 the object of discussing matters of educational interest ; and, at one of the 
 most numerous of these meetings, held the year before last at Sherborne, 
 a committee was appointed to negotiate certain practical arrangements 
 with the Latin professors at Oxford and Cambridge, with the Universities 
 themselves, with various colleges, with the Government, and with other 
 examining bodies. It is worth while to notice that the Universities were 
 to be asked merely to provide a more satisfactory mode of matriculation, 
 and the colleges to arrange their scholarship examinations more conve- 
 niently ; while the Government were to be requested to institute a kind 
 of degree examination for all boys at the period of their leaving school. 
 Such was the scheme of the Sherborne meeting, as conveyed to their 
 committee. The committee, however, changed the programme. On
 
 THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND THE UNIVEESITIES 317 
 
 their own authority (and it is no business of mine, or of the public, to 
 find fault with them) they determined to place (as I should call it) the 
 schools under the patronage and control of the Universities ; to invite 
 them to inspect the schools and report on their efficiency, and, in addition 
 to this, to hold examinations of all boys at two stages of their school 
 career, with a view to awarding certificates of satisfactory attainments. 
 They also suggested that the Universities should accept these certificates 
 as entitling the bearer to exemption from certain subsequent examina- 
 tions ; a suggestion at which the Universities have not thus far shown 
 themselves eager to grasp. Such was the plan as it left the hands of the 
 committee, and as it remained when they presented their report. The 
 conference of headmasters, when next they met at Highgate, adopted 
 and approved, though not without some hesitation, the efforts of the 
 committee. These efforts had not as yet led to any definite result ; and 
 it is not uncharitable to surmise that the approval would perhaps have 
 been less complete if the efforts had been more practically successful. 
 
 I have been the more careful in sketching the history of these pro- 
 posals, because it seems to me important to point out that they have 
 originated in a manner which it is not unfair to describe as ' casual.' The 
 assembly of headmasters, although of a friendly and unrepresentative 
 character, is still an important body ; and the proposals in question have 
 received from them a more or less formal sanction, though they have 
 never gone so far, it will be noticed, as to express a distinct wish for the 
 ' inspection ' of their schools. But the desire that the Universities shall 
 examine and inspect the working of the schools, and report upon their 
 efficiency, did not as a matter of fact emanate from this body, nor has a 
 wish to that effect been expressed, as far as I am aware, by any public 
 body whatever, by any official personages, by any representatives of the 
 outside public, or, indeed, by any persons of consideration whatever. 
 
 This being the case, how are we to account for the cordial reception 
 which the proposals have met with at Oxford and Cambridge ? Syndi- 
 cates have been formed at both Universities, which have taken the great- 
 est pains to arrange a course of action, and which, but for the fact that 
 the two Universities, or those who represent them, seemed to have formed 
 widely different conceptions of what was wanted, would have long ago 
 found themselves in a position to propound a definite scheme. One of 
 the irremediable differences, as I am given to understand, is no less than 
 the admission or exclusion of the entire original plan, the only one which 
 the meeting of headmasters has distinctly sanctioned, that of the leaving 
 examinations for certificates of proficiency. Differences apart, the Uni- 
 versities have taken up the idea of inspection and examination, and are 
 at this moment hard at work upon it. This eagerness is not to be 
 accounted for by the ambition to engross educational authority, and even 
 if it were, I am not sure that it would be deserving of blame. It rather 
 seems to proceed from a pure desire to be useful, and, in pursuance of 
 that desire, to attempt any task which any one may suggest as possible. 
 It is a trite observation, that when a person is suddenly awakened to a
 
 318 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 sense of his responsibilities, one of the earliest proofs which he gives of 
 his nascent earnestness is the passion for awakening the same sense in 
 others. There is no touch truer to nature in ' Tom Brown ' than when 
 the friend on whom the hero had been hotly urging a particular course 
 of moral reform cannot refrain, though much impressed, from comment- 
 ing on the suddenness of the zeal. ' Very cool of Tom,' thought East, 
 ' seeing as how he only came out of Egypt himself last evening at bed- 
 time.' The Universities came out of Egypt, I imagine, somewhere about 
 the time of the passing of the first University Beform Bill. Since then 
 too much cannot be said for the energy with which they have been at 
 work to reform abuses, and to place themselves at the head of education. 
 Enlargement of studies, development of the professoriate, abolition of 
 limitations, institution of local examinations all mean increased work 
 and usefulness. Only, if they proposed to organise the instruction of the 
 navy or to control the working of a power-loom I should say that they 
 were overstepping their natural functions. And they appear to me to 
 transgress them equally if they claim to test and govern, otherwise than 
 indirectly, the English public schools. 
 
 The proposals which are being put forward may, however indefinite 
 their shape, be considered as falling under two heads. 
 
 1. It is proposed to appoint commissioners who shall be in readiness, 
 in parties of two or more, to visit and inspect the schools, either examin- 
 ing portions of them by written or viva voce questioning, or else super- 
 intending such examination, to an extent sufficient to enable them to 
 declare whether the work of the school is so conducted as to deserve the 
 confidence of the public. 
 
 2. It is proposed, once or oftener in the year, to hold an examination, 
 either of boys leaving school, or of all boys of a certain age or ages, either 
 in subjects taught at school or in those which the boys, or the Universi- 
 ties, select, with the view of granting certificates, either with or without 
 marks of distinction, to the successful candidates. 
 
 It will thus be seen that, though to a slight extent they may appear 
 to cover the same ground, the proposals of inspection and of leaving 
 examinations are clearly distinguishable ; and it is to be regretted that 
 neither in the original suggestions nor, until lately, in the action of the 
 University syndicates, do they appear to have been carefully distinguished. 
 They seem to me to contain the elements of what is undesirable in very 
 different degrees. The scheme of inspection is, I shall urge, vicious both 
 in conception and practice ; that of leaving examinations is at worst 
 harmless in idea, but is so beset with difficulties that no success can be 
 hoped for at the present time from its action. 
 
 In representing the weakness of the inspection scheme, I am met with 
 the difficulty that the arguments in its favour have to be supplied almost 
 from conjecture. When a Government inspector visits a coal-mine or a 
 factory, or reports on a primary school, one knows pretty well what the 
 object of the visit is, and can judge of its necessity. Certain definite 
 rules of law have to be complied with, and it needs ocular inspection to
 
 pronounce that this has been done. Certain specified results have to be 
 attained, and national payments depend on their entire or partial attain- 
 ment. Compare this organisation with what is proposed in the case of a 
 public school. What definite laws (I wish there were a few) can we 
 either keep or break ? What definite results can be placed in the column 
 of a return, out of all the manifold influences which go towards constitu- 
 ting an education ? We shall be told that this inspection will supply a 
 valuable stimulus, to the teachers towards increasing their assiduity, to 
 the scholars towards learning their lessons. I emphatically deny the 
 necessity of such a stimulus. Even Dr. Bidding, the chairman of the 
 very committee which lent itself to the original suggestion, declares 
 candidly that he feels and sees no need of it. It is a mere popular error 
 to suppose that public schools at present need a stimulus as regards 
 amount of work. We ' came out of Egypt ' in Dr. Arnold's time, and 
 have been fighting Amalekites ever since ; and one of the principal foes, 
 that of simple idleness, we may now consider that we have fairly 
 vanquished. I grant that the schools have many and serious faults ; we 
 are not yet fully drinking the rivers of milk and honey ; we make 
 mistakes, we are cowardly, we are shortsighted, we have (I shall not 
 deny) radical and perhaps incurable defects. But they are not mistakes 
 or defects which a University inspector can either disclose or cure. They 
 are not such as need a ' stimulus.' Heaven help the school which sees 
 so little of its own shortcomings as to suppose that the report of a commis- 
 sioner from Oxford or Cambridge can reveal or obscure their existence ! 
 
 I have just quoted Dr. Bidding's avowal that he has no wish of his 
 own for the stimulus of which I have been speaking. But he goes on to 
 say that the public seem to wish it. Granting for a moment that this is 
 the case assuming, that is, a proposition for which no evidence has yet 
 been shown what ground is there for supposing that an inspection by 
 the Universities is the right way to tell the public what they want ? 
 Parents wish, it is suggested, to know which are the best schools to 
 which they may send their sons. Does any person with the smallest 
 experience in education suppose that the reports of these delegates will 
 be a body of evidence on which they may rely for a decision ? As it is, 
 the materials for a choice are abundant. Between the public schools at 
 the present moment there exists the keenest rivalry, and it is as easy to 
 ascertain their relative merits and defects as those of a college or a 
 watering-place. In all probability the grounds for choosing this or that 
 school must be often grotesque in their variety. But, while the parent is 
 justly culpable who sends his son to Harrow because his second cousin 
 had a friend there, or because Lord Byron carved his name on the desks, 
 he is probably not much more irrational than another would be who 
 should select it because a senior classic of Cambridge averred that some 
 particular form had learnt their irregular verbs well. Why, then, do we 
 have examiners now from the Universities for the work of the higher 
 forms ? In the first place, because labour is so heavy that fresh hands 
 must be called in to do it ; then because an examiner may sometimes
 
 320 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 introduce a new stamp of ideas, suggest weak points in scholarship, give 
 a little dignity to the work of those boys whose efforts he is testing ; and 
 lastly, because it seems to some people only fair that the most important 
 prizes of a school should be assigned by a person who cannot possibly be 
 biassed in the award. But which of these objects can be attained by a 
 scholar who comes down to superintend a portion of the examination of 
 a portion of the school in a portion of the work which has been done in 
 a portion of the year ? I read, on the authority of one of the head- 
 masters, that he may at all events ' sink a shaft ' in the school, and test 
 the whole by a part. The simile exactly suits my argument. What 
 value would be set on the report of a mineralogist who would propose, by 
 sinking a shaft of casual depth in a casual valley, to form an estimate of 
 the metalliferous wealth of Cornwall ? 
 
 Let it be remembered that it is this, and this only, which it is proposed 
 to carry out. The inspector of a primary school, who has to report on 
 a definite issue with reference to distinct and binding standards, examines 
 personally every child in the building, and pronounces a positive judg- 
 ment upon each. In the case of a boarding school, with its various 
 culture and complex organisation, the University inspector of the future 
 will take a specimen here and there of the results, and write word to his 
 central Board what he thinks the institution is worth. He might as well 
 try to estimate the working of a parish by hearing the village choir sing. 
 ' So far as to enable them to report on the general character and efficiency 
 of the whole.' Are we talking of the inspecting of schools or the tasting 
 of cheeses ? And yet everyone knows that a complete examination of 
 the results even in one single subject would be next door to an impossi- 
 bility. The expense alone would put it out of the question. Nor if this 
 were even possible would it render the result a satisfactory one. I cannot 
 but think that copies must still be extant of the letters which were written 
 ten years ago by the authorities of the Seven Schools, when the Royal 
 Commission hinted that perhaps it might be well to submit the whole 
 body of pupils to an examination. If they are still in existence, they 
 might possibly furnish an interesting supplement to the suggestions of 
 the committee of 1871. 
 
 Is this really what is most important in schools, the capability of 
 passing an examination so as to satisfy, according to certain vague 
 standards, the taste of an inspector in Latin or Greek ? We all are 
 convinced of the contrary. A school is good if it makes the best of its 
 materials, if it is full of good traditions, if its standard of intellectual 
 interest is high, if it is strict in discipline, if it is vigorous in games, if its 
 teachers are gentle and just, if its organisation is careful and sensible, 
 if it is well ordered in diet, service, ventilation, drainage, space ; and also 
 if it attains, as the crown of its merits, what I understand to be the very 
 cream of University distinction, the proper appreciation of the sound of 
 the Roman consonants. Give me an envoy from the Universities who 
 can pronounce on all those at a single visit, and I will say not a word 
 against his mission. But, I shall hear, it is worth while to have an
 
 THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND THE UNIVEESITIES 321 
 
 estimate of the pupil's knowledge of Latin, even granting that the judg- 
 ment is as partial and limited as it must needs thus be. Why ? Merely 
 for the purpose of emphasising a fallacy ? Merely in order that the 
 public may be induced to look upon a part as the whole, and consider 
 that as a complete estimate which all those concerned will know to be 
 utterly insufficient ? ' But the Universities do this to a certain extent 
 already by their scholarships, and nobody complains. They are allowed, 
 without any challenge, to give glory to schools by success in intellectual 
 competitions alone, and those of a limited kind.' Nobody complains, I 
 reply, because nobody has anything better to suggest. It is clear that 
 this is all that they can possibly do. It is desirable that intellectual 
 success should be rewarded, and schools have, heaven knows, enough 
 interest already in winning these prizes and payments. I am told on the 
 best authority, that at a certain school every scholarship gained at the 
 University is as tangibly marked in the applications for entrance during 
 the following week as if it were registered on a thermometer. Surely we 
 do not want still further to persuade the public that these results alone 
 are the standard by which our work is to be valued, even though it were 
 possible for a score of examiners, at the cost of a year's income, to satisfy 
 themselves to the last shred of knowledge on the attainments of every 
 pupil in the school. How much stronger the argument becomes, how 
 much more fallacious the fallacy offered to the intelligence of parents, 
 when, instead of this searching inquiry, there is to be an inspector with 
 the office merely of a roaring lion, who is to go about seeking some one to 
 examine, grasping at an induction for morsels of evidence, listening to a 
 lesson here, reading an exercise there, and returning to his Athens much 
 (as I should venture to picture it) with the feeling that Peisthetserus must 
 have experienced after his sojourn in the Region of the Birds, with the 
 sense that he has been listening for a couple of days and nights to one 
 universal gabble ! 
 
 I am convinced that the sketch which I have drawn of the value of 
 an inspector's work will not be considered overdrawn by anyone who 
 accepts the premisses with which I started ; which are, that schools have 
 other merits than those which an examination can test : that the proposed 
 inspector's office is to be simply that of a literary examiner : and that 
 even this function is to be exercised in a partial manner. But I come 
 now to what is the most serious, because the most far-reaching, danger of 
 the whole scheme. When we were discussing the notion of a stimulus 
 which this plan proposes to offer, it must have occurred to many to 
 rejoin that though a mere stimulus to work might be superfluous, it 
 would at least be useful to have some external guide to direct the 
 energies of the school in the right direction, to correct extravagances, 
 to keep the teaching in the proper or the established groove. 
 
 In other words, the schools are to be controlled by the Universities. 
 The delegates, who may, it is suggested, be either resident or non-resident 
 graduates, are to train the institutions which they visit in the way in 
 which they should go. They are to hint that some subjects or some 
 
 Y
 
 322 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 methods of study are good and others bad, and as a matter of necessity 
 the schools which wish to be praised will do well to adopt their advice. 
 Now I most seriously urge that the present position of education demands 
 that the liberty of teaching which exists at present in schools should be 
 rather extended than curtailed. It is generally acknowledged that educa- 
 tion is in many respects in a period of transition ; that the established curri- 
 culum is, to use the hackneyed phrase, ' on its trial.' All the prominent 
 movements at present are in the direction of enlargement and variety ; there 
 may be equal thoroughness, or there may not, in the prosecution of the 
 old subjects, but at any rate hardly a voice is raised against allowing a 
 fair field for the enterprise of the new. It is a time when experiments 
 should be liberally tried, and difficulties fairly faced. Towards trying 
 them, towards encountering the difficulties, the country starts with the 
 inestimable advantage of having a number of schools, each of which 
 boasts that within large limits it can take a line of its own, can turn 
 itself in this or that direction, and retain its own peculiar ' genius.' The 
 future course of education can be satisfactorily traced out only by the 
 fullest indulgence which can be granted to this individual freedom. 
 
 I fully grant that by the existing University examinations on the one 
 hand, and the public tastes on the other, this freedom is at this moment 
 limited. I conceive that even the present limits are more narrow than 
 is consistent with satisfactory progress ; and certainly I can find in their 
 existence no justification for further encroachment. Indeed, to anyone 
 who reflects that less than one-fifth of the boys at public schools go to a 
 University when they leave, it may appear surprising that the present 
 control should be as great as long tradition and personal influence have 
 rendered it. That the proportion should be greater is much to be wished : 
 and when once the Universities shall have lowered their standard of age 
 and enlarged their curriculum, it may well be hoped that it will increase. 
 But it is time that any approximation of school and University work 
 should be made by expansion of the elder, and not by regulation of the 
 younger bodies. 
 
 It is not unfair to represent this enhanced control as an essential and 
 inherent element of the scheme of inspection. It is impossible that the 
 two should be separated. How is an inspector to assign credit to what 
 he does not understand ? And how, again, can he be omniscient ? I am, 
 I will suppose, a headmaster or a subordinate master of a school which, 
 while it is bound, indeed, to train boys for the Universities, has also a 
 freedom of considerable range in its instruction. It is my opinion that 
 the Sflftndina.via.n language and literature afford the best possible means 
 of cultivating the mind of a student. I find every advantage (let me 
 imagine) in this study that can be offered by the most devoted professor 
 of the established curriculum. I trace history which is as obscure as that 
 of the Roman kings, and teach dialects as dead as a door-nail. I throw 
 my scholars into frames of mind and busy them in the contemplation of 
 processes than which not the most erudite of JSschylean controversies 
 can have less connection with modern thought. I have the successes of
 
 THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND THE UNIVEESITIES 323 
 
 an enthusiast and a discoverer. I awaken interest, I train to logical 
 sequence, I load with varied information, I exercise cultivated imagina- 
 tion : my pupils write verses like the Eddas, and get by heart mythology 
 like a Skald : I am even about to initiate a majestic reform in the pro- 
 nunciation of the Scandinavian c ; and all this training is based on the 
 languages and doings of the sea-kings who lived before Eollo. Now I 
 may be wise in this course, or unwise ; but is it not desirable that rny 
 idea should have at least as fair a trial as the present matriculations and 
 army examinations allow it ? I shall soon find out my error if I am 
 wrong, and others will not imitate me if I fail ; and all the time I have 
 to bear in mind that the Universities still expect Latin, and parents 
 insist on arithmetic. My eccentricity is carefully hedged : are not the 
 prospects of education the better for a moderate indulgence of my caprice ? 
 But mark how the plan of University inspection tells upon my work. A 
 college Fellow, or it may be a country clergyman, comes down to judge 
 the teaching of the school at which I am engaged. As it is not to be 
 supposed that he will know the ancient Norse, he will find it convenient 
 to take, as a specimen, some other portion of my work than that in the 
 results of which I take such pride ; or else he will put me aside altogether, 
 and devote himself to some non- Scandinavian class ; and all that the 
 inquiring parents are likely to know of my splendid successes is that my 
 neighbour's form are found to be good in their Greek. Or should it 
 happen that the Board of Control at the Universities have searched out 
 and sent down some scholar who has devoted himself to the same results 
 as I, who comes, hears, sees, and passes a judgment which is probably 
 valueless from the absence of a standard of comparison much light will 
 the public receive from the assurance that my work is excellent, and 
 ex pede Herculemihe school is admirably conducted, when it is notorious 
 that among my colleagues he knows nothing of A, who goes to sleep 
 over his Virgil ; B, who puts the cricketers systematically first ; or C, 
 whose class-room is a bear-garden. More probable than either hypothesis 
 is the third : that the inspector will appear some day provided with an 
 array of established tests in classical scholarship, and a couple of ques- 
 tions in Icelandic literature which he has begged or stolen from Dr. 
 Dasent ; that the report which will appear of my work will run, ' Moderate 
 success in the normal subjects ; shows some curious Scandinavian energy ; ' 
 that with a sigh and a blush I shall give up my northern studies, abandon 
 Wodin and Thor, stick to the construction of the prolative and quid- 
 quod-qualitive verbs, and the light of Scandinavian learning will be 
 quenched in schools for ever 1 
 
 It will be observed that I am not contending for absolute freedom of 
 teaching in schools ; I am arguing against the curtailment of that amount 
 of freedom which we have. But turning now to the second of the sug- 
 gested methods of bringing the University influence to bear upon school 
 education, that of leaving examinations, it will be remarked that to a con- 
 siderable degree it is open to the same objections which have been brought 
 against the scheme of inspection, and that its dangers are only less 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 threatening because the project is of narrower range. Its evils will be 
 brought to a minimum, while, on the other hand, its practical difficulties 
 will reach a climax, if it be extended, as it surely ought to be, to the 
 entire youth of the country. It is fair to confess that, with the extension 
 made, a simultaneous examination of all boys of a certain age by a com- 
 bined Board from the Universities would have much to recommend it, 
 and the necessity of the case would operate towards rendering such an 
 examination as elastic as possible. But, remembering the enormous 
 laboiir and the serious difficulties which the University of London has to 
 face in carrying out a similar plan, it would require a very sanguine con- 
 fidence to believe that a scheme of the kind is likely to be adopted ; and 
 were it even moderately easy, it would be a function which would be per- 
 formed equally well, and ultimately much better, by a central public 
 authority. The Universities have now devoted at least enough of their 
 energies to examining, and it would be well that the next steps of pro- 
 gress for some time to come should lie in the direction of further teaching. 
 Delegates would be quite as usefully employed in instruction at Birming- 
 ham and Bradford as in adding to the already abundant examination of 
 boys whose life is one continual test. But, however this may be, the 
 head and front of the objection to the plan is its tendency to cramp study. 
 When a pupil of mine tells me that he is about to try and prepare himself 
 for some special external examination, it is with but little exaggeration that 
 I mentally reply, ' Then so ends your rational education.' I am quite for 
 competition in the public service, because I know no better mode of selec- 
 tion ; but its results are annoying enough already without a fresh set of 
 fetters from the Universities. To use Dr. Bidding's admirable phrase, 
 which is a perfect addition to the stores of the language, the chief effect 
 of such an examination would be its operation as a negative stimulus. 
 
 If complete, systematic, and open to all the country, such a test would 
 be open, I have urged, to fewer objections, and would at any rate confer 
 a general benefit, even though at the cost of the liberty of school teaching. 
 If confined to particular schools, it would retain this great disadvantage, 
 and from the necessarily varying standard would be misleading and 
 wasteful of energy. If limited to the subjects taught at the school, and 
 regulated according to the proportion which these subjects bear to one 
 another, it would cease indeed to be cramping, though it would still be 
 delusive, and its full execution next door to impossible ; but it does not 
 appear what object would be served by its existence. You cannot compare 
 the results of two examinations of which the materials vary, nor can you 
 offer University advantages in return for successes of which you have not 
 beforehand determined the conditions. 
 
 But, it is gravely argued, it is better to fall into the hands of one's 
 friends than of one's enemies ; if the Universities do not institute these 
 leaving examinations (and perhaps these inspections too), the Govern- 
 ment will. In the first place, I demur to the prophecy. There seems no 
 reason whatever for the supposition that the Government intend to 
 interfere in the education of the schools, except the clauses in the second 
 part of Mr. Forster's Endowed Schools Bill, which were rashly conceived
 
 THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND THE UNIVEESITIES 325 
 
 and quickly dropped out of sight ; and the Education Department has far 
 too much work on its hands at present to be likely to undertake any fresh 
 labour on so vast a scale. But, in the second place, I am far from being 
 convinced that the work, if done at all, would not be better done by a 
 central department of the public service. It would so avoid the difficulty 
 which the co-operation of two independent bodies must involve, and it 
 would always be open to the influence, which is extremely strong, of the 
 leading public schools. It is argued that ' we know the animus ' of the 
 Universities but not of the Government. Surely, if we are to be examined 
 and inspected at all, it would be more satisfactory on public grounds to 
 rely on the verdict of judges who have no animus of any kind to start 
 with. I should prefer that the thing should not be done at all at present, 
 because, as was said above, we are in a period of educational experiment, 
 and perhaps transition ; but in twenty or thirty years' time it is possible 
 that, without more injury than all control inherently involves, the 
 Minister of Education may bring forward a plan similar to that of the 
 German leaving examinations, with the concurrence of public opinion, 
 and even with some advantage to the schools. 
 
 The Abiturienten-priifungen of Germany are constantly being brought 
 forward in connection with this argument ; and it seems to be thought 
 that, whether the conditions of the examination are similar or not, the 
 fact that German boys are examined on leaving school is a solid fact 
 which has in itself all the weight of a logical process. Let us recall a 
 few of these conditions. The Abiturienten examinations are conducted 
 mainly by the teachers of the schools ; they take place at the national 
 day-schools only ; they are very wide in their range ; they are super- 
 vised by Government officers ; they deal not only with results but with 
 training, as they demand that a certain length of time shall have been 
 spent in the advanced classes of the school ; they bear record of morality 
 and diligence ; they extend over bodies far larger than our English 
 schools, being in connection with a national educational system ; and, 
 most important of all, they confer a right of entrance to the Universities, 
 to which there is no other access. Let us put this question distinctly to 
 the Oxford and Cambridge syndicates. If we submit to the burden of 
 these leaving examinations (inspection being put aside), and confer on 
 them the right of testing us at their pleasure, what are they prepared to 
 offer in return ? Do they engage that they will admit none to residence 
 but those who have satisfied the standards ? Do they undertake to 
 exempt those who have done so from any further matriculation test ? 
 Do they promise that the colleges as well as the University shall consider 
 these certificates as" sufficient ? Are they even disposed to hold out any 
 one definite exemption or privilege which shall attach 'to the fortunate 
 candidates with whom they shall have pronounced themselves satisfied ? 
 Surely, some engagements of this nature must accompany the scheme of 
 school examinations if they are seriously offered for acceptance. It 
 would be embarrassing enough to have these examinations at all ; but the 
 dose might be sweetened by a bribe.
 
 326 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Such are the arguments which have occurred to nie against the pro- 
 posal for this regular examination and inspection of the public schools 
 by commissioners from Oxford and Cambridge. If they can be fairly 
 answered, I shall only be glad to think that a new field has been found 
 for the growing energy of the Universities. If not, I hope that the 
 schools may be left with their present limited freedom, and can only 
 suggest that the Universities should devote themselves instead to 
 examining and inspecting one another. The proposal lacks, as it seems 
 to me, all the elements of a bond fide reform. It corresponds to no 
 pressing needs, it leads to no definite ends : it is doubtful whether it 
 originates in any deliberate expression of opinion on the part of its 
 reputed authors. But I should be very sorry to give the impression that 
 I consider no reform at all necessary, and no inspection desirable. I am 
 not one of those who believe that the schools can be safely left altogether 
 to themselves, or that the Universities have^ no duties in connection with 
 them. I will conclude this paper accordingly by mentioning, with but 
 little argument, the reforms which I should be glad to see accomplished, 
 and which would meet, I think, all reasonable demands. The points 
 I shall set down are those which bear upon the relation of the schools to 
 the public, and of the Universities to the schools. 
 
 1. There should be a Council of Education, under the department of 
 the Minister of Education, charged with the duty of inspecting the public 
 schools of the country in all matters that relate to finance. It remains 
 yet to be seen what relations in matters of teaching and discipline the 
 new governing bodies of the schools will bear to the headmasters, and 
 what share they will take in supervision of studies. Without expressing 
 any opinion on the subject, I will venture to predict that those relations 
 will, as a matter of fact, become in future years somewhat different from 
 those which have hitherto existed. However this may be, the governing 
 bodies and the teachers are together competent, under the control of 
 public opinion, to settle matters of organisation and instruction. But the 
 nation has a right to make sure that there shall be no jobs ; and the 
 auditing of the school accounts should at first be the principal work of the 
 proposed Council. In future years the same body will form the centre 
 round which may gather, slowly and tentatively, a system of national 
 secondary education ; but the experience of French Government control 
 is sufficient to warn us against proceeding otherwise than with the 
 greatest caution in the matter. 
 
 2. Further, and much more systematic, steps might be taken by the 
 colleges towards organising their entrance examinations in such a way as 
 not to interfere with school studies. All the authorities, when appealed 
 to, declare that they see the inconvenience of the present system, but are 
 powerless to effect a remedy. It has sometimes occurred to me to wonder 
 how many months it would take to effect a cure, if the headmasters of 
 half a dozen of the principal schools were to declare that henceforward 
 no boy should leave his work for a temporary sojourn at the University 
 except in the months of January and June. I do not advocate this course,
 
 THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND THE UNIVEESITIES 327 
 
 which would be churlish, and it is pleasant to keep the relation of the 
 colleges and the schools on the cordial footing on which they happily 
 stand at present ; but it is not too much to suggest that some slight 
 degree of pressure from without might induce a more zealous co-operation 
 at the Universities. 
 
 3. The same considerations apply to the competition for scholarships, 
 though here the difficulties of co-operation are presumably, indeed neces- 
 sarily, greater. 
 
 4. It is hardly necessary to point out as indispensable in the interest 
 of the schools a further enlargement of the University curriculum ; for 
 both Universities seem alive to the importance of the step, and though 
 they proceed slowly, it may be hoped that they proceed surely. 
 
 5. The principal of all the reforms which deserve consideration at the 
 hands of schools and Universities, though it lies chiefly in the hands of 
 the latter, is the lowering of the age of the students. It is too large a 
 matter, and not sufficiently- germane to the immediate subject of these 
 pages to discuss ; but it may be included in the list of reforms which the 
 committee of headmasters would do well to bring before the syndicates 
 which are appointed to treat with them. It seems to me certain that the 
 schools keep boys too old : that the Universities accept them too late and 
 keep them too long : and that if the average age were a couple of years 
 younger, the number of those who would be able to look forward to a 
 University education would be largely increased. I should be glad to see 
 a statute passed at once that no undergraduate should be received (unless 
 exceptionally) after his nineteenth birthday, or admitted to his final 
 examination after his twenty-second : and I should hope that the standard 
 might eventually be placed a year younger still. Then, if it were thought 
 desirable, two years or two years and a half might be given to additional 
 study by those who chose to proceed to a further examination for the 
 degree of Master of Arts. If such a regulation as the above were insisted 
 on at Oxford and Cambridge, the schools would be able, and might bind 
 themselves, to refuse to keep any boy who had passed the age fixed for 
 University entrance. 
 
 6. I cannot but think the time has come when the headmasters might 
 with advantage concert a plan for carrying out a conscience clause in thoir 
 schools, either by the distinct enunciation of its principle or by adopting 
 such arrangements as would involve its essence. 
 
 7. In the event of such a change in the tenure of Fellowships as 
 should render essential to the receipt of a dividend from college funds 
 some service done in teaching either at the Universities themselves, or at 
 other centres of instruction in the provinces, it would be worth considering 
 whether the less richly endowed schools might not be allowed to confer 
 such a title to the receipt of the payment, in virtue of assistance which 
 the holder of the Fellowship might give towards their school work.
 
 328 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 VI 
 
 GAMES: A 'U.U.' ESSAY 1 
 
 [1884] 
 
 I AM going to write a plain, practical discourse, with no jokes or 
 paradoxes or epigrams, and one which will be intelligible to the meanest 
 capacity here. I had thought at first of describing, after the manner of 
 Swift or Erewhon, and with a view of suggestive contrast, a school in 
 which the development of the body was the primary concern with boys 
 was, in the time-honoured phrase, ' what they came there for ' and the 
 cultivation of the mind was considered laudable and useful if only undue 
 time were not thrown away upon it ; but I stopped this train of fancy, 
 from finding that I had drifted into something curiously like the educa- 
 tion of ancient Athens. I also had it in my mind to put before the 
 meeting an imitation of a Platonic dialogue, in which it would be shown 
 from first principles that the sort of person who is fit to bowl is also the 
 sort of person who is fit to bat, and should combine the two functions 
 simultaneously (why how not ? Theaetetus would say) and, that a high 
 score being the right thing, it would follow would it not ? that the best 
 and more perfect hit was the hit which went highest (it would seem so, 
 says Philebus), and so on. Racks shall not tear from me the reason for 
 which I in the end abandoned this brilliant idea. And, in the end, I fell 
 back upon the plainest prose, and am much confused by having just read 
 in Ruskin that the man who can do things best is always the man who 
 can discourse upon them worst ; so that, if this essay is tame and barren, 
 it follows that my cricket average is likely to be something quite out of 
 the common. I have often been told that the mind is superior to the 
 body ; I do not think this has ever been proved. It seems to me to be 
 of the nature of those things which are called pious beliefs. As a rough 
 test, let us think what it is that we most value our friends for : is it for 
 their delicate choice in optatives, which my friend the composition-master 
 assures me is the loftiest mental development which we can put before 
 our youth ; or is it their temper hi other words, their digestion which 
 is their body ? That isn't fair, says the composition-master: no cogent 
 argument ever is in the opinion of the cogee. He will urge that the 
 optatives are not the tip-top greatness, but only go with it and connote it. 
 Well, drop the digestion itself too, and put instead the fine complexion 
 and something round the chest and proper coloured hair which connote 
 
 1 Reprinted by permission from the Journal of Education.
 
 GAMES 329 
 
 it. I don't think the scale has turned. Tom Hughes says somewhere 
 that your real friend is the man whom, if you saw alone and penniless 
 and naked in the street among the carriages, you would take and dress 
 and feed and be a brother to. Well, everyone knows you wouldn't if he 
 had a decided squint. Anyhow, you wouldn't merely because you knew 
 he was clever. How is it practically with us? I certainly don't think I 
 have any one really very ugly friend (I smile to myself as I write this, to 
 think how when I read it I shall see every one furtively glancing at his 
 neighbour to see if he is looking at him). I repeat, I haven't any very 
 ugly friend. And, on the other hand, I must say of some of my friends, 
 with all respect, that their minds and intelligences are at any rate no 
 better than they should be. 
 
 Well, then, let us assume, till the contrary is proved, that body is as 
 important as mind (I speak popularly for convenience : gentlemen who 
 have been reading their magazine literature diligently can of course 
 translate this into the proper dialect) that a well-developed tendo 
 Achillis is about equal in value to firm grounding in grammar, that you 
 may put into the same sort of category a tendency to false quantities and 
 to freckles. Now, will anybody here please to be good enough to tell me 
 why we schoolmasters should give all our care and thought, from one end 
 of the year to the other, to one side of this equation, and leave the other 
 to take care of itself ? 
 
 I seem to hear the tinkling of many answers ' Because boys like 
 bodily exercise well enough as it is.' Why don't they like their lessons ? 
 ' Because things do better if left to work naturally.' Just go and apply 
 this to Greek. ' Because you can't make all boys strong and active.' 
 Whereas you can make all learned and clever ? ' Because some of the 
 choicest intellects would be ruined by being forced to play and run.' 
 And are no fine animals ever ruined by being made to conjugate and 
 compose ? 
 
 If any one comes and says ' Well, then, do you propose to organise 
 athletics like school, or to disorganise school like athletics ? ' I reply to 
 him that it is I who am writing this essay, and not he ; and that I am 
 the best judge of what questions it is convenient to answer. But this 
 much I will say, that I don't know whether the system of letting boys do 
 what lessons they like has ever had a fair trial, and that, with a few 
 limitations and laws, I should uncommonly like to see it tried. And, 
 whether it is tried or not, I declare upon my honour aa a U.U. that the 
 consideration, which I have been pointing out, seems to me to be serious 
 and enormously suggestive. 
 
 Whether to any extent, and to what, the schoolmaster should 
 scholasticise athletics, let us now consider. I will treat the question 
 without any reference to particular schools, or any particular customs ; 
 and I would suggest that, in our subsequent discussion, we shall gain 
 more light in proportion as we avoid individual instances and speak of 
 common customs. I begin by the proposition that the common English 
 school games are of indescribable value. Without any exaggeration,
 
 330 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 I declare that in our whole system there is nothing which, in my opinion, 
 approaches them in value. I merely mention that the battle of Waterloo 
 was won in the playing fields of Eton, because that remark will have been 
 generally expected, and it will now not be necessary to make it again. But 
 I have no objection to add to it, that the existence of the playing fields at 
 Eton has been much more to the advantage of the world than the winning 
 of the battle of Waterloo. There will be none here who will deny that 
 games are good, of course ; but there may be some who will not join in 
 the strength of my language ; and I will enlarge upon this thesis for a 
 few moments. 
 
 In the first place, a good run at football is absolutely a good thing, 
 and grand and beautiful, simply because I say it is. It is good in the 
 same sense as an eloquent speech. When it forms part of an organised 
 game, and is seen and appreciated by others, the world is ipso facto a 
 gainer. The body for ever 1 Sursum cruva ! I do not see why this 
 argument or assertion should not be true, though I cannot take the 
 trouble of putting it in that particular metaphysical form which would 
 dazzle and convince. These games are a joy for ever, and that is the 
 long and short of it. 
 
 Next, they give a vast quantity of pleasure. 
 
 Next, the social gain is beyond calculation. 
 
 Here one drops perforce into truisms, except that truisms spoken in 
 the ordinary tone do not sufficiently express my opinions, and I am driven 
 rapidly towards capital letters. I who write have seen and played pro- 
 bably more school games than any one now alive ; and my verdict is, 
 ' Very good.' It would be tiresome to dwell on this; but consider rapidly 
 the habit of being in public, the forbearance, the subordination of the one 
 to the many, the exercise of judgment, the sense of personal dignity. 
 The day I began to write this essay, a captain of a house football eleven 
 asked me to go down to his house-game that day. There was a small 
 local trouble : two important boys had a quarrel on, and it was very 
 awkward, and, in short, he wanted to be advised. I played ; everything 
 went on as usual. After it was over, I asked about the quarrel. It had 
 vanished into the delight of exercise and the glory of play. 
 
 Think again of the organising faculty that our games develop. 
 Where can you get command and obedience, choice with responsibility, 
 criticism with discipline, in any degree remotely approaching that in which 
 our social games supply them ? 
 
 Think of the morallo-physical side of it ; temper, of course ; dignity 
 and courtesy. I asked a new boy this quarter what, on the whole, struck 
 him most in school life as being unexpected and remarkable ; he said, the 
 politeness with which boys spoke to one another as compared with pre- 
 paratory schools. 
 
 Has it never struck us all, when looking on at a game or playing in 
 one, that now is the very moment one would choose for getting something 
 heroic done ? Does it never occur to us, in the flush and glow of play, 
 how little and unimportant things boys' offences are ? a consideration
 
 GAMES 331 
 
 which always (and not its opposite) seerns to me to constitute the finest 
 atmosphere of moral school life, and which always presents itself to me 
 with amazing force when I see a boy sick or hurt. Has it never happened 
 to us to find, in a walk home from cricket or football, but especially foot- 
 ball, the very best and choicest time for saying the particular thing that 
 we want a boy particularly to take to heart ? 
 
 And, once more, I offer it as my deliberate opinion, that the best boys 
 are, on the whole, the players of games. I had rather regenerate 
 England with the football elevens than with average members of Parlia- 
 ment, who are, of course, our wisest men. When I reflect on the vices to 
 which games are a permanent corrective laziness, foppery, man-of-the- 
 worldness I am not surprised at being led to the verdict which I have 
 just delivered. And, having known more than one period, at one school 
 at any rate, when cricket was distinctly recognised as being on one side, 
 and very serious evils on the other, I find a cricket ball or a football be- 
 coming in my eyes a sort of social fetish, of which it is difficult to realise 
 the fact that our ancestors never dreamt the value. 
 
 There be three occasions which fairly overcome my sensibilities yea, 
 four when you might borrow a five-pound note of me. One is, when a 
 master has been leading up to the solution of some small intellectual pro- 
 blem, and has had the skill to make it interesting and fairly easy, and the 
 moment has come when the form has to find it out, when every single 
 boy is attending, when brainwork is going on from one end of the class 
 to the other, and when every face in the room gets a sudden brightened 
 look as the guesses shape themselves to a solution. Another is, when 
 something very good in its way has been done or said among an assem- 
 blage of companions, and there leaps forth that burst of clapping with the 
 hands which in its high key seems to pervade space and almost to speak. 
 And, thirdly, when, on the day of the long-expected football match, the 
 moment has really come, and that which was to be, is, and the ball is 
 really kicked off, and now the play has begun. There is education. There 
 is enlargement of horizon : self sinks, the common good is the only good, 
 the bodily faculties exhilarate in functional development, and the make- 
 believe ambition is glorified into a sort of ideality. Here is boyhood at 
 its best, or very nearly at its best. "Well, after all, to what was the 
 greatest of the Beatitudes allotted ol Kadapol rrj xapdla ? Not to un- 
 sensualness only, as the commentators think, but, higher still, to simple- 
 mindedness. And when you have a lot of human beings, in highest 
 social union and perfect organic action, developing the law of their race 
 and falling in unconsciously with its best inherited traditions of brother- 
 hood and of common action, I think you are not far from getting a glimpse 
 of one side of the highest good. There lives more soul in honest play, 
 believe me, than in half the hymn-books. 
 
 Quo, Musa, tendis ? Let us get back to controversy. ' I distinctly 
 prefer that my son should not be an athlete,' said a friend of mine, who 
 is also a parent, to me the other day. ' I don't want all that excitement 
 and display. I want him to have quiet family tastes, to care for beetles
 
 332 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 and butterflies, to be sober-minded, reasonable, domestic. Your games 
 arc a mere excrescence on a properly disciplined life, are a factitious 
 pleasure and an artificial employment of energy.' ' Thou fool ! ' I said to him 
 (I am not habitually impolite, but I have been pursuing my theological 
 studies a good deal lately), ' is not all school artificial to the last degree ? 
 " So much the worse for it, is it ? " " That is just what you complain 
 of? " Why, is not all our life a purely artificial produce from the lives 
 of past ancestors, and is not the business of each generation, if Darwinism 
 be true, nothing else than to artifise its successors? Beetle me no 
 beetles ! I am not going to give up what I see visibly to be the food of 
 health and virtue, because you consider that a Swiss Family Robinson 
 could do very nicely without it. There were not enough for an eleven in 
 the days of Adam and Eve, so they had to do without. But, if you find 
 people now-a-days trying Locke and Rousseau in practice, and delibe- 
 rately preferring them after trial, it will be time enough then to talk of 
 domesticity.' 
 
 Well, but there may have been a grain of sense in what my friend said. 
 It is possible that the present form of some of our games may tend just a 
 shade too much towards self-display. So far as this is the case, I should 
 like to point out that it is not the games that are to blame. A person who 
 did not happen to be a little behind the scenes of the athletic world would 
 hardly believe what an eagerness there is in it to exploiter the schools, to 
 get hold of them and make them minister to the distinction and the purses 
 of enterprising gentlemen in London. In schools near London, it needs 
 constant watchfulness to parry these attacks, and it is impossible alto- 
 gether to defeat them. In such matters as this, authority has a legiti- 
 mate function. It may regulate with despotic control the conditions 
 under which a game shall turn into a public exhibition, in cricket, rowing, 
 football, athletics, shooting, racquets, or even the lawn-tennis of the future. 
 Ticket this as Number One. 
 
 Akin to this is the danger of extravagance. Cricket and racquets both 
 foster this a little, and they have an excellent counter-agent in football, 
 which, in the outer world, tends in the happy direction of cheapness. I 
 didn't say I did not say, vulgarity. In matters of expense, then, the 
 master is useful and necessary. This is Number Two. ' Sumptuary 
 laws,' said some one to me, in the tone of a Pallas Minerva, last time the 
 subject was uppermost here, ' sumptuary laws always are unwise.' I 
 found it hard to select the most appropriate answer ; and I think I have 
 remarked upon some of my friends that their heart was sounder than their 
 head. My friend might as well have said that moral enactments are out 
 of place, or that a regulation of locking up at dark had failed when tried 
 in the form of curfew. The truth is, that sumptuary laws are fitted for 
 children exactly to the same extent as all other laws are until, that is, 
 they can do without them. A master does not do his duty to his games 
 who does not enact how much shall be paid to cricket professionals, within 
 what limits the tailor and hosier may have their fling, what shall be the 
 maximum value of cups given as prizes.
 
 GAMES 333 
 
 There is one large question of practical organisation which fairly falls 
 under the control of masters that of compulsory games. ' Brethren, in 
 the primitive school ' so will hereafter run the service of the Religion of 
 Corporeal Humanity ' there was a laudable custom that all boys were 
 obliged to play at games, and, if they didn't, were beaten ; ' and then 
 Professor Harrison or Beesly will wink a noble wink as he goes on to 
 lament that it can't be revived again. Now, what is our duty by this 
 custom ? Evidently it leans for help upon a worthy idea, that boys form 
 a community, that every member of the SfJ/ios must play his humble 
 part, that indvisme is the worst of vices. This idea is the most pregnant 
 and the most formative that schoolboys have. It has immensely wide 
 affinities. Atque utinam ex vobis itnus is, I suppose, next to longing for 
 Chloe, the most passionate sentiment of our nature. But, though leaning, 
 as I said, on this sentiment, the custom rests, I imagine, on an intelligible 
 practical foundation ; it began when schools were smaller, and when play 
 languished if there were too few players, or if many boys grew up 
 unfamiliarised to games. That boys should, under these circumstances, 
 oblige each other to play seems reasonable and right ; whether it is their 
 wisest plan is not to the point. If they think that the general happiness 
 gains from individuals joining in football, they have as much right to 
 impose it as we should have to oblige Samson to pay police rates, though 
 the police were of no value to him. Just up to this point, then, as long 
 as the custom is natural, masters should recognise it ; when it goes 
 beyond this, when it takes some shape of superstition or priggishness, or 
 simply ministers to tyrannical love of power, they should regard it 
 jealously, or even interfere against it. Number Three. 
 
 Health, again, is obviously a matter for superior control. You may 
 with propriety, if you think it wise, prevent cricket before Lady Day, or 
 abolish pole-leaping, or forbid races over a mile long, or modify bathing 
 rules, or enforce the wearing of hats or caps. In particular, you may 
 with advantage insist on the substitution of civilised football rules for 
 barbarous ones. If you are wise, you will interfere as little as possible, 
 and as cautiously ; but, when you do, you must enforce your decrees with 
 the absolutism of a Peter the Great, and leave no food for grumbling in 
 the shape of a hope of reversal. I think I must drop the counting. 
 
 How far, however, may masters go with advantage into the region 
 that lies midway between authority and fellowship ? Some headmasters 
 almost directly organise games ; some assistant masters teach very 
 elaborately the art of good play ; a great many assistant masters join in 
 games if nothing else. I fear that nothing but commonplaces modified 
 by experience will answer the question. Masters should not teach boys 
 to do what they* can do for themselves ; and self-organisation we all 
 allow to be half the good of the play. But in many cases, boys, and 
 chiefly small boys, need to be helped to self -organisation as they are 
 helped to construing. Big boys have traditions to guide them, and have 
 more sense and versatility ; but even they are often very stupid and 
 uninventive, and, if you don't help them, they go on unimproved small
 
 334 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 boys a fortiori. If, then, we say that you mustn't be unnecessary, you 
 mustn't be officious, you mustn't vulgarise yourself into a professional 
 coach, you mustn't seem ostentatiously unintellectual outside of these 
 limitations you will very often do good by giving your help ; and a game 
 well directed gives much greater happiness to the players than one lof 
 which the organisation is suggested by the untrained heads of a single 
 generation. Don't do all or nearly all for the boys ; but don't be afraid 
 of doing something. 
 
 As to mere joining in the games, do so on two conditions of the utmost 
 strictness : (1) That the boys like your doing so ; (2) That you are 
 perfectly sure of keeping your temper. Avoid thoughtfully such rocks 
 as these : Becoming a partisan on one side with too argumentative eager- 
 ness, hurting the boys at football, taking personal lead in cases where 
 others can do it, wearying them by an overlong innings for your own 
 amusement. Seek social relaxation in it even more than exercise. One 
 hears the phrase used at times, So-and-So, a master, is popular because 
 he plays at games. That is purely ridiculous. To play is no more 
 popular in a man than in a boy. To play genially, modestly, good- 
 temperedly, is popular in both ; the more so, perhaps, if the player is 
 really worth looking at for his skill, though this is of quite secondary 
 value. And I suppose that, if a man is strong-minded, sensible, unselfish, 
 brave, sympathising, lively, these virtues will have their course, work 
 their influence, reap their fruit, as much in games as in school. Now, 
 each of us believes that, as it so happens, these are the particular virtues 
 which he himself possesses in perfection. That being the case, I advise 
 everybody, subject to the two conditions named above, to play with the 
 boys if he can. 
 
 One incidental question : If we play in school games and hear boys 
 use words and phrases which well, which are compatible with faint 
 praise, but not restricted to it, what are we to do ? I myself am one of 
 those who think swearing rather a bad vice ; we all know that it is in 
 reality hardly a vice at all, and the fact merely is that the Teutonic race 
 is, in moments of excitement, prone to the employment of the medial 
 mutes ; but it is specially wicked because the criminal knows it is a little 
 wicked, and could stop it if he liked. Well, then, in the middle of a game 
 we hear some young St. Athanasius making a characteristic remark. 
 Shall we go away from the game as if shocked, which is ridiculous 
 hypocrisy ; or punish him, which is contrary to the theory on which we 
 play namely, that temporarily and for the purpose of the game we 
 partly divest ourselves of our cap and gown ; or shall we pretend not to 
 hear it, which is a suggestion of the devil ? I should say, behave exactly 
 as you would wish one of the bigger boys to behave. If it is not a special 
 moment of excitement, abuse the boy openly, a little angrily, without 
 any shyness ; if you are shy and underspoken on the ground of being a 
 guest, things will seem unpleasant. If the offence was almost excusable, 
 even still abuse him, but don't exaggerate ; you are not a prig or a Puritan. 
 If the moment isn't adapted for moral exhortation, put it off till it is, and
 
 GAMES 335 
 
 then take him to task, and, if he is a big boy, take him to a good deal 
 of task. 
 
 How very little organisation by authority after all ! How very free 
 it is ! How largely nature and instinct, limited only by a few big rules, 
 is left to itself for the purpose of training the body ! Can you imagine 
 now, gentlemen, an arrangement by which this shall be otherwise; in 
 virtue of which these muscles shall be trained on one day and those on 
 another, in this manner the back shall be straightened, in that the sinews 
 shall be developed, in a third the lungs shall have their work cut out for 
 them ? Can you conceive that the master shall lay down and enforce the 
 degrees and the order in which physical energy shall stiffen into rule, and 
 pretend to be physical enjoyment ? I can ; it is in the gymnasium. There 
 it is ; it exists. It is recommended by no scientific authorities of repute J 
 it appeals to no traditions of past enjoyment ; it awakens no social 
 interests, and trains no administrative faculties. It is the mere Greek 
 Iambics of physical training ; has its element of truth, as all pedantry 
 has, and has in its physical results a certain poor degree, as all pedantry 
 has, of success. But what a substitute for football, and what a reflection 
 for us, that men who know and have tasted the powers and the pleasures 
 of play should yet in cold blood drive the children into this dead and 
 barren routine ! Don't suppose that great traditions can be trampled on 
 with impunity. How do we know that the school games are so im- 
 movably fixed in school life that the meddlesome intrusion of formal 
 gymnastics may not in some degree blight and spoil them ? 
 
 pauvres chers enfants, qu'ont nourris de leur lait 
 
 Et qu'ont berces nos femmes ; 
 Ces blames oiseleurs ont pris dans leurs filets 
 
 Toutes vos douces ames. 
 
 Si nous les laissons faire, on aura dans vingt ans, 
 
 Sous les cieux que Dieu dore, 
 Une Prance aux yeux ronds, aux regards clignotants, 
 
 Qui hafra 1'aurore ! 
 
 We must not exaggerate : it will take a good deal of authoritative gym- 
 nastics to spoil cricket ; but I do feel, towards anything which goes in 
 its influence against the games of which we are so proud, a jealousy and 
 an aversion which almost make me blind to its merits. 
 
 [The short remainder of the essay is suppressed as being frivolous.] l 
 1 This note is attached to the essay as originally printed.
 
 336 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 VII 
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PAEIS, 1871 1 
 
 I AM about to sketch the story of a series of events which took place in 
 1871, and occupied two months : events which in their dramatic interest, 
 their novelty, the marvellous paradox of the situation, have probably 
 never been equalled. The period of the Commune of Paris presents a 
 picture military, social, and political, quite unparalleled in history. 
 
 The outline of the story is, that when peace was concluded between the 
 Germans and French, and while the invading armies actually half 
 encircled Paris, there arose a civil war between its inhabitants and the 
 Central Government of M. Thiers ; and after a siege of two months the 
 Versailles army as that of the Government was called succeeded in 
 taking the city, not without frightful carnage and massacre. By the 
 word ' Commune ' is meant the municipal council which governed Paris 
 during this period. 
 
 The great Franco-German war was begun in August 1870, the 
 Emperor Napoleon III. having seized an occasion of quarrel against 
 Prussia. The radical deputies of Paris had opposed the war, and M. Thiers 
 had voted against it. But the political necessities of the Empire were 
 paramount, and war was declared. Its early calamities soon destroyed 
 what popularity and internal strength the Imperial Government had, and 
 upon the capitulation at Sedan, in which MacMahon's army, and the 
 Emperor with it, surrendered to the enemy, a bloodless insurrection in 
 Paris proclaimed the downfall of the Empire ; and the republican ' Govern- 
 ment of the 4th of September,' as it was called, came into existence. It was 
 composed of the deputies of the capital ; it had no formal sanction from 
 the French people, but it was tacitly accepted as a government which 
 could and would fight the Prussians. 
 
 The German armies soon surrounded Paris, and the famous siege 
 began. Gambetta escaped in a balloon ; some of the ministers joined 
 him at Tours, where he organised fresh levies ; others remained in Paris. 
 The siege went on ; suffering began, and the sorties were unsuccessful ; 
 no army of succour appeared. The democracy of the city began to cry 
 out that they were being betrayed. The only regular force, they said, 
 that the city walls contained, was under the command of Imperialist 
 officers ; there was no heart in it, no popular sympathy or popular 
 strength ; the city militia was ill organised, and generals like Ducrot and 
 Vinoy, and a commander of Paris like Trochu, seemed little to trust 
 it. Away, it was said, with such half-hearted relics of the past, and 
 
 1 A lecture delivered at the Harrow Liberal Club on October 81, 1887.
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PAEIS 337 
 
 let the people show their strength ! The bourgeois citizens, the shop- 
 keepers, and capitalists had had their day ; was not the turn of the 
 workmen come ? So the cry ran ; socialist doctrines of all shapes were 
 preached, even amid the din of arms ; the rights of labour were discussed 
 as loudly as the operations of warfare ; and one day at the end of October 
 some battalions of the National Guard invaded the Hotel de Ville, from 
 which the ministers escaped by the window. But the movement was 
 premature, and broke down ; and the siege went on. 
 
 But so, too, did the irritation of the multitude. Just before the 
 capitulation the National Guard insisted that where the regulars had 
 failed, they would succeed if tried. They had their chance accordingly ; 
 they poured forth to the last sortie, to meet a terrible slaughter and 
 defeat, and they came back saying that they had been betrayed once 
 more. There was no love lost between the Government and their generals 
 on the one hand, and the workmen, with their committees and clubs, on 
 the other. 
 
 Now, suppose peace made early in 1871 ; Paris, which has endured 
 real hardship, and has borne it bravely, is provisioned again. But how 
 are rents to be paid ? How is work to be found for immediate needs ? 
 How are men to live ? 
 
 Peace is made ; but who had made it ? The answer to this question 
 is important. That France was beaten had been clear enough ; that she 
 must submit and agree to terms had been equally clear. But, as Bismarck 
 put it to himself, who is France ? Usually a government acts in the 
 name of a nation, and the nation is bound by the promises which it makes 
 in its behalf. But the difficulty was that there was no formally accepted 
 government. That of September 4 was a merely extemporised piece of 
 machinery, and something else was necessary, unless Bismarck was pre- 
 pared to run the risk of making agreements, and finding them repudiated 
 by some fresh authority after six months. I will make peace, he said, if 
 you summon a regular assembly, duly elected, which in the name of the 
 nation shall form a regular government to arrange terms with their 
 conquerors. This, then, was done done, it need hardly be said, in great 
 haste : deputies were sent from all parts of France, men who could be 
 depended upon to secure that peace which was now necessary for the 
 country. The leading gentlemen of each district were in general chosen, 
 and it was commonly believed to be the most aristocratic parliament that 
 had ever sat in France. It met at Bordeaux, and elected M. Thiers chief 
 of the new Government ; a ministry was composed under his auspices, and 
 the treaty with Bismarck was signed. 
 
 The assembly at once dissolved itself, to make way for a more formally 
 and deliberately chesen Parliament. That is the way you might perhaps 
 expect me to proceed, and the course would not have been unreasonable. 
 But that is not what did happen. This same assembly considered that it 
 sufficiently represented France ; it continued its sittings, removed to 
 Versailles, and obtained an assurance from M. Thiers that he considered 
 it free, provided that for the moment it kept to questions outside of 
 
 Z
 
 338 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 constitutional politics, to adopt hereafter either a monarchical or a re- 
 publican form of government as it should think best for the country. 
 
 The position, then, is this. You have on the one hand a Parliament 
 which was chosen expressly to make peace, and which goes on to make 
 laws and governments, intending hereafter to frame constitutions, and, if 
 it likes, to bring back kings. It has few popular sympathies ; it is terribly 
 afraid of Paris ; and, by refusing to hold its sittings there, it offers a 
 mortal affront to the one city which had suffered so much for France. On 
 the other hand, you have the population of the capital, angry, suspicious, 
 proud of what they had gone through, intensely determined upon the 
 maintenance of a republic ; and the mass of them not knowing where 
 until commerce and labour are organised again they are to earn their 
 bread. For the moment, as long as they are serving in the National 
 Guard, they receive a trifling pay, and that is something. 
 
 I have spoken of the mass of the population as workmen. The mass 
 of every town population consists of workmen ; but Paris was composed 
 of them at the time to an exceptional degree. Partly, the rich and the 
 idle people had fled beforehand from the prospect of the siege. Partly, 
 I am bound to confess, a good many more fled now, because they began 
 to be afraid that fresh troubles were coming. 
 
 As for the workmen, they were enrolled in the National Guard, and 
 elaborately organised, with a representative committee formed of delegates 
 acting in the name of each battalion. Gambetta was not among them ; 
 nor indeed was he, however much they admired him, a man of their class. 
 Bochefort was there, half liked, half distrusted ; not now swaying thou- 
 sands, as he did twelve months before, with a word. They had no longer 
 Blanqui, the idolised champion, the martyr, as they termed him, of 
 popular rights ; the Government had got him in prison. But they had 
 Milliere, the lawyer ; Flourens, the gay clever student ; Assi, the leader of 
 strikes ; Raspail, Varlin, typical working men ; Cournet, Vermorel, Felix 
 Pyat, journalists of various types ; Delescluze, the venerated hero of 
 old-fashioned radicalism ; and Lullier, the drunken humbug. They hardly 
 could judge between them, hardly sort worth from imposture. But do 
 not judge too hastily men whose liberties have grown up among every 
 form of repression, and for whom to be an enemy of existing authority 
 becomes at once a badge of merit. 
 
 But what did they want ? Perhaps they hardly knew. They differed 
 as much as other people differ as much as English workmen differ 
 among themselves, and more. Many simply desired that Paris, self- 
 governed, and freed from the perpetual yoke of a central authority which 
 controlled it alike in small things and in great, should be an independent 
 head of the French Commonwealth. A large number wished to see a 
 state of things in which labour, organised and politically effective, should 
 make its own terms with society, and oblige the middle class to submit 
 to its conditions. Not a few were members or supporters of the ' Inter- 
 nationale,' the international society of working men, an organisation 
 which held its annual congresses and issued its programmes to the
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PAKIS 339 
 
 workers in all countries ; dreaded, naturally, by those who had capital, 
 and believed to have more power than it actually had. And every form 
 of socialism, from the temperate and philosophic to the violent and 
 communistic, had its representatives among the population of Paris. 
 
 As for the party of the Assembly, the party of Versailles, their views 
 were more simple. They hated radicalism, and they feared Paris. The 
 question of the constitution with which they should endow the country 
 was by consent adjourned. Meanwhile the majority of the Assembly 
 hankered after the good old days when kings reigned in France, and 
 many of them were engaged day after day in efforts to bring about, later 
 on, a restoration of monarchy. This, you will remember, was the one 
 thing which Paris, almost to a man, was against ; and it should be added 
 that M. Thiers, though he never expressed himself plainly, laid it down 
 that, for a time at any rate, republican institutions must be considered to 
 exist, and was no doubt rapidly coming to the conclusion that they must 
 continue to do so. 
 
 Now to return to the story. It was pretty certain that a conflict was 
 coming. It began also to be certain that the troops of the line who had 
 been left in Paris sympathised with the populace. Proclamations began 
 to appear on the walls from the Committee of the National Guard on the 
 one side, and from General Vinoy on the other. The critical moment 
 came, when according to a condition of peace which, however humi- 
 liating, it was decided for certain reasons to accept a detachment of the 
 Prussian army was to enter Paris in triumph. This took place, and for 
 two days they occupied a certain strictly limited portion of the city. 
 During this period a line of French soldiers fringed with an impassable 
 cordon the barriers which had been happily raised round the district. 
 Meanwhile, through the city shops were shut, carriages disappeared, not 
 a newspaper was printed, and in the night some one covered with a black 
 veil the statues in the Place de la Concorde. The time was one of 
 terrible suspense, but no collision happened. The German troops were 
 withdrawn, and they shortly removed altogether from the western side of 
 the city, retaining still the eastern forts in their possession. 
 
 Now in the district thus temporarily occupied were a large number 
 of cannon which had contributed hi the siege to the defence of the city, 
 and which clearly could not remain where they were. To whom did 
 they belong ? Settle that, and you settle the whole case between Versailles 
 and Paris. ' To us,' said the National Guard ; ' they were bought by our 
 contributions ' (it happened that this was to some extent true), ' and they 
 have never been made over to anyone else.' ' To the Government,' 
 said M. Thiers ; J guns cannot belong to soldiers ; they are national 
 property, and we represent the nation.' I defy anyone to pronounce 
 which of these claims was the more just. That is what comes of revolu- 
 tions ; questions of national rights, public property, the authority of 
 government, get entangled and insoluble. You must remember that the 
 authority which the Government of M. Thiers claimed to have was one 
 conferred solely by the Assembly late of Bordeaux, now of Versailles. 
 
 z 2
 
 340 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 It was argued with some plausibility that the Assembly had no mandate 
 from the country to make governments ; it had been hastily summoned 
 summoned, indeed, one might almost say, by Count Bismarck to make 
 peace and nothing more. Anyhow, the Parisian Central Committee 
 jndged sagaciously that the party in a dispute which has guns and 
 ammunition has some strong practical arguments on its side, and it 
 carried the cannon off to the top of the hill of Montmartre, where they 
 remained in the custody of battalions of the National Guard. And, as 
 their hand was in, they thought they might as well annex what other 
 guns and ammunition they could meet with in other parts of Paris, and 
 these were secured in like manner. 
 
 M. Thiers, and General Vinoy under him, quite understood what was 
 going on. But what could they do ? Even the soldiers of the line were 
 not to be trusted to obey their orders. M. Thiers determined to appoint 
 a new chief commandant of the National Guard, who might perhaps be 
 listened to. He unfortunately selected an old and unpopular general for 
 the post, and the National Guard replied by electing a commander of 
 their own. The old general published an order of the day declaring his 
 authority, but no one paid it any attention. The Minister suppressed 
 six radical journals by a decree. He could not have taken a more unwise 
 step ; Paris knew too well what the suppression of journals meant, and 
 what came of it. 
 
 March 18 saw the first appeal to force. Before daybreak that morning 
 a detachment of the line, under orders from the Government, occupied 
 Montmartre, seized the guns, and began to carry them off. The surprise 
 was complete, and the Government was in possession. But their triumph 
 was brief. The Paris battalions the ' Federals,' as they called them- 
 selves were speedily called to arms, and swarmed round the hill. There 
 were nearly 200 cannon, all massed and entangled together ; and there 
 were not enough horses. Still, some of the guns were carried halfway 
 down the hill. But by this time it was daylight ; women and children 
 crowded round the soldiers and appealed to them ; company after com- 
 pany gave way and joined the insurgents. General Lecomte, who was 
 in command, was carried off from among his own men ; and by midday 
 the hill, guns and all, was once more in Federal possession. 
 
 A bloodless victory ? Alas, no ! Now comes a sad story. The first 
 hours of the morning had been fairly good-tempered ; but passion woke 
 as the day advanced. There were those present who bore a bitter hatred 
 to General Lecomte, some of his own soldiers among the fiercest. He 
 was carried off to a private house where some Federal officers were in 
 council ; a few of his staff were taken along with him, and shortly another 
 general named Thomas, who had been found near the spot, was brought 
 there also. Crowds surrounded the house, clamouring for vengeance on 
 officers who had, as it was believed, told their men to fire on the people. 
 The Federal officers within had no wish to be murderers. They tried to 
 send Lecomte off under an escort to a prison, but he was stopped and 
 brought back. They tried to gain time by pretending to set on foot a
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PARIS 341 
 
 sort of court-martial ; for two hours they kept off the crowd, who had 
 begun to threaten them too. At last the doors were forced. A mob, 
 chiefly of soldiers of Lecomte's own regiment, burst in, hurried off the 
 two generals to the garden of the house, and shot them down as they 
 walked. The officers of their suite were allowed to escape. 
 
 It was a cruel and wicked deed, and it shed a lurid light on the events 
 of the two months that followed. But I will ask you to take particular 
 note of this fact. You will often hear it said that the Commune that is, 
 the city-government of Paris were guilty of this crime. Now the 
 Commune was not yet in existence. Nor was the Central Committee 
 guilty of it ; nor, indeed, was the National Guard at all. The generals 
 were murdered by a tumultuous mob consisting chiefly of their own 
 soldiers. The guilt of the Commune and of the National Guard alike 
 was this and it is grave enough that they never took steps to punish 
 those who had committed the murder. 
 
 That day and the next Federal troops took possession of all the 
 important positions in the city. The Government officials were with- 
 drawn one after another to Versailles ; such of the regular troops as had 
 not fraternised with the insurgents were brought off ; the Central Com- 
 mittee installed itself in the Hotel de Ville, and the red flag floated on 
 its roof. Civil war may be said to have declared itself. 
 
 Do not suppose that Paris was as one man. The National Guard with 
 its Central Committee had both power and, on the whole, popularity ; 
 but it had no regular and established authority. The city had its proper 
 municipal officers, the ' mayors ' of the several districts, responsible in 
 ordinary times to the Government ; and most of them, though sympa- 
 thising with the cause of Paris, still protested against the military usurpa- 
 tion of power. Protest they might ; but the bureaux of all the districts 
 in turn were occupied by order of the Committee and their ridiculous and 
 incapable chief Lullier. The mayors, however, and those who thought 
 with them, had no easy task. They had no fancy to throw themselves 
 into the arms of what they deemed to be the monarchical assembly at 
 Versailles, bent as it was, now more than ever, on restricting the liberties 
 of the city. On the other hand, they believed in law and order ; and 
 the National Guard, however much they judged it to have right on its 
 side, was now acting against both. It is fair to say that the Central 
 Committee professed no intention of usurping a permanent authority. 
 Their first desire was to secure the election of a regular municipal 
 council ; and to this end orders were at once given that elections should 
 be held in all the districts. The Assembly, it is true, refused its sanction, 
 and the mayors declined for a time to co-operate, but they finally yielded, 
 and the elections were held. The Municipal Council of Paris, or in 
 French phrase the Commune, was the result. It represented Paris just 
 as much as the Town Council of Birmingham represents Birmingham. 
 The word has nothing to do with what is called ' Communism,' and it 
 implies no political doctrines ; it is a word many centuries old older 
 than the word ' House of Commons,' and similar in meaning to our
 
 342 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 English ' Commonwealth.' To this body, properly elected, the Central 
 Committee formally resigned what civil authority they had assumed. 
 They continued, however, their own organisation and their military 
 control, and later on they exercised a disturbing and mischievous influ- 
 ence on the fortunes of the city. 
 
 The Commune consisted of about eighty members, some of whom, 
 Conservatives and Moderates, at once resigned. It comprised several 
 veterans in the cause of libertj 7 , not to say of revolution. Beslay, the 
 president, honest and respected ; Delescluze, eager and earnest in spite of 
 years of imprisonment and exile, a man of more actual influence than 
 any ; Valles, a conspicuous member of the ' Internationale ; ' Vermorel, 
 Cournet, Ranvier. There were a good many journalists, lawyers, literary 
 men, some good and honest, some noisy and self-asserting. Felix Pyat 
 was a type of the latter kind. "When he escaped afterwards, I asked a 
 colleague of his about him. 'Yes, Pyat has got off,' he said with a smile, 
 ' he has spent his life in getting off.' A third of the number were 
 artisans, well selected on the whole by their class, and comprising some 
 of the best of the Commune Varlin, Theisz, Malon. And, finally, there 
 were many who had secured a seat by mere clamour and fluency of 
 tongue, and who hindered more than they helped. 
 
 The Commune had to frame an administration, arrange finance, 
 organise an army, and defend a besieged town. They had over 200,000 
 soldiers at their bidding, while Versailles had at starting some 40,000, but 
 these latter were augmented every day by fresh arrivals from the pro- 
 vinces, and prisoners of war now released from Prussian prisons. The 
 Commune named secretaries and committees for the various departments 
 of work, and a general executive commission of nine members. The 
 Prussians had by this tune evacuated all the forts south of the city, and 
 retired to the right bank of the Seine, leaving the left bank in French 
 hands. Thiers withdrew the garrisons from the five forts south of Paris, 
 as it was necessary to concentrate the few troops that he had, and even 
 the magnificent fort of Mont Valerien, which towers over Paris from the 
 west side, was left either almost or altogether without troops. The 
 Federals immediately took possession of all the southern forts, including 
 those of Issy and Vanves. A few hours more and they would have 
 occupied Mont Valerien, but wiser counsels had reigned at Versailles, and 
 a regiment was sent just in tune to garrison it before the Federal troops 
 could arrive, which Lullier, half drunk, had for a whole day neglected to 
 send. Those few hours decided the result of the siege. 
 
 For the next two months, then, consider that the Versailles army 
 the ' rurals ' as their enemies called them occupy all the west fringe 
 beyond reach of the city guns from Asnieres round by St. Cloud to the 
 southern hills, joining both on north and south the Prussian lines, from 
 which they are separated only by the river. The Prussians look on 
 grimly, taking no part, and waiting till the end. Was ever such a scene 
 witnessed in history ? The conquering legions, secure and impassible, 
 sit viewing, as from an umpire's seat, a bitter civil war between the
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PAEIS 343 
 
 opposing fractions of the nation which they have just subdued. They 
 are absolutely unmolested, and, except quite at the end, observe a strict 
 neutrality. 
 
 Hostilities actually commenced in the first days of April. An affair 
 of outposts took place, to the advantage of the Versaillais ; and the next 
 day, in obedience not indeed to an order of the Commune, but to a popular 
 cry for action, three large columns of Federals started by various routes 
 against Versailles. They hardly expected any resistance ; they organised 
 neither commissariat nor ambulance. The northern columns were met 
 by a tremendous fire from Mont Valerien, and turned at once to flight. 
 One of the chief in command, Gustave Flourens, a popular and brilh'ant 
 man of letters, was wounded and taken prisoner. He was kept some 
 time in a house close by, then brought out and cut down with sabres, 
 under orders of, if not actually by the hand of, a Versailles officer. So at 
 least the story went, and it was told to me not long after by a person 
 whom both sides respected ; but he said he had no certain proof of the 
 details. The other column started on the south side and made its way 
 nearly to Versailles, but it was met by some of Vinoy's best troops, and 
 after hard fighting was repulsed. Duval, its commander, was taken. He 
 was being led along to Versailles when Vinoy himself came riding by. 
 He stopped and asked who it was, and when he was told, ' Let him be 
 shot,' he said. Duval walked towards the wall that was pointed out, 
 leaped over the ditch, placed himself upright, said, ' Vive la Commune I ' 
 and fell dead. He was just thirty : he had been a workman, and for six 
 months an officer in the National Guard. He knew little about com- 
 manding armies, but he knew how to die. 
 
 People talk of the atrocities of the Commune. I wish to point out to 
 you that here, at the very commencement of the struggle, we have a 
 prisoner killed in cold blood by the enemy to whom he had surrendered ; 
 and the person who orders the murder is not a drunken soldier, not an 
 excited private enemy, but the commander-in-chief of the army of 
 Versailles. 
 
 "When the news of these disasters reached Paris, people began to 
 reflect that an ill-organised tumultuous sortie is not the way to conquer 
 disciplined troops, however inferior in number. Delescluze, for one, was 
 furious. Who is to command, he said, we, or the caprice of the army ? 
 One wise step was taken at once. A real soldier, Cluseret, was put at 
 the head of the War Office ; he had served under Garibaldi and in the 
 American Civil War, and under his direction the Federal troops quickly 
 gained in stability and discipline. They never were wanting in courage ; 
 and now, with positions skilfully fortified, and duties adequately arranged, 
 their military value was doubled. No fresh sorties were made, but the 
 batteries engaged one another day after day, and irregular fighting went 
 on almost without intermission at Asnieres, Neuilly, and the scattered 
 villages that lay between the two armies. 
 
 But it was, above all, important to stop the massacre of prisoners of 
 war. It would have been easy to make reprisals, but such a method of
 
 344 EDWARD BO WEN 
 
 warfare suited the taste of the great French generals better than that 
 of the Commune. This is what they did. They passed a decree that a 
 certain number of persons selected from among those men of Paris who 
 were known to be friends of the Versailles Government should be taken 
 and kept as hostages. They selected important people the Archbishop 
 of Paris, the Chief Justice, and others of less rank and they declared that 
 as often as a Federal soldier was killed in cold blood, vengeance should 
 be taken on some of these hostages. "Was this measure justifiable ? I 
 have often heard it discussed, and it is not a question easy to settle. The 
 hostages were quiet citizens, who took no part in warfare on either side. 
 But, the Commune argued, ' We do not want to hurt them. It is no 
 worse a crime to kill an archbishop than to kill a soldier after the battle ; 
 we say that we can prevent the latter by threatening the former.' I am 
 bound to say that on the whole I think a strong case was made out 
 for the measure. The Commune did not, as a fact, put these men to 
 death (you will afterwards see what I mean) ; they perhaps never in- 
 tended to do so in any case, and what is most important to notice is 
 this the decree gained its end. The murder of prisoners on the part of 
 the Versailles army ceased completely for the next six weeks, and till near 
 the end of the struggle the war was conducted according to the ordinary 
 custom of belligerents. 
 
 As for Cluseret, he insisted on the enrolment of all citizens, hunted 
 up defaulters, rigorously closed the gates on the Prussian side of the city 
 as well as the other, tried ineffectually to prevent his officers from 
 wearing gold lace and plumes at their own sweet pleasure, and even held 
 his own for a tune against the Central Committee, which still claimed the 
 control of the army, and were little pleased at having a master in the 
 Bureau of War. He did not venture, except in special cases, to interfere 
 with the fatal right which they maintained of appointing their own 
 officers. The best of his subordinates were Dornbrowski, a Pole by birth ; 
 La Cecilia, an Italian ; and Rossel, a young officer of artillery, who had 
 joined the cause of Paris from ardent republican conviction. 
 
 Meanwhile, what confusion, what rashness, what selfish vanity, what 
 capricious and bewildering changes of policy in the Commune itself ! Its 
 debates remind one of a dictionary of general knowledge with the pages 
 sorted wrongly ; of the House of Commons on a real Irish night ; of a 
 game of football when the players have not yet agreed upon the rules. 
 Some things were excellently done. Theisz got the postal service in 
 order within forty-eight hours. Jourde managed finance not without 
 skill. Rigault, a profligate and hot-headed leader, was made Minister ot 
 Police, but mismanaged it so that it was handed over to Cournet. who 
 was honest and capable. He had his difficulties, no doubt. He was 
 surrounded with spies. ' You yourself had spies at Versailles,' I said to 
 him once. ' Yes,' he said, ' and the men whom I paid to do the work 
 were at the same time in the pay of the other side. I knew it all the 
 while, but we got more out of it than they did.' Active though the 
 Commune no doubt was, it utterly failed in the power of enforcing
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PAEIS 345 
 
 obedience to its decrees ; and in political experience by which I mean the 
 habit of handling political subjects, the capacity for seeing what things 
 are important at each moment, of adjusting one line of conduct with 
 another, of taking general views instead of mixing up details they were 
 hopelessly and fatally wanting. One thing I am convinced that they did, 
 with all their failure they saved the French Republic. While the contest 
 lasted, no one at Versailles breathed a word about a restoration of kings ; 
 and when it was over, M. Thiers, who saw that the country on the whole 
 was for a republic, was in complete command of the situation. Whether 
 the Commune was in the right or the wrong, of which I leave you to 
 judge, at any rate I believe that but for it France would have been a 
 monarchy in the spring of 1871. 
 
 About the middle of April, I applied at the Charing Cross booking 
 office for a ticket for Paris. The face of the clerk was as though I had 
 asked for a ticket for the inside of Colney Hatch. ' Well,' he said at last, 
 
 ' I suppose I can give you a ticket, but ' The pause implied that the 
 
 company did not issue tickets of life insurance as well. I went a step 
 further, and begged for a return ticket. There he absolutely drew the 
 line ; the idea was preposterous, and I had to abandon it. I was accom- 
 panied by one friend ; we crossed to Calais, where the Prussians were in 
 full possession, found a train to Amiens, and another to Paris. But it 
 had very few passengers, and those few gradually diminished. As we 
 approached the city through the Prussian lines, every other person in the 
 train, except the guard, dismounted, and I and my friend entered Paris 
 alone. 
 
 I am sure that you will now expect me to tell you of wild scenes of 
 disorder, of tumult and outrage, of strange escapes and romantic disguises, 
 and the usual stories of a revolutionary time. If so, you will be 
 disappointed. To say the truth, I am not sure that we were not dis- 
 appointed too. Paris was absolutely tranquil if at least a city can be 
 called so whose ramparts are being bombarded every day. We went to 
 a small quiet hotel ; I need hardly say that there were no other guests. 
 The streets were strangely quiet ; no carriages ; very few carts ; about a 
 third of the shops were shut. Everywhere the red flag was flying. We 
 went where we liked and saw what we pleased. There was no famine ; not 
 much meat to be had, but plenty of vegetables. There were barricades at all 
 the important corners of streets ; while they were in making, every passer- 
 by was required to add one stone as he went through that is the rule 
 in revolutions ; but fortunately for us they were mostly finished when we 
 got there ; and splendid bits of architecture some of them were, solid, tall, 
 and mounted with, cannon. Sentries everywhere were as civil as possible, 
 and they seemed to pride themselves on showing what an army of the 
 people could be. ' Move on, please, citizen,' was the utmost remonstrance 
 we incurred, even at the dangerous points near the batteries. We mixed 
 sometimes in crowds, and never once were robbed or insulted. One 
 phrase comes to my mind, which I heard from a ragged-looking unwashed 
 fellow in the middle of a mob one day. ' Yes,' he said, ' the rich people
 
 346 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 have no tyranny over us now ; they only exist on sufferance ' on suffer'- 
 ance he rolled the r in a way which sounded quite terrible. But he 
 never tried to take my watch. What he said was true ; the rich did exist, 
 and exist on sufferance, just as much as they do at this day in London 
 or any other civilised community which knows that it is for the common 
 advantage that property honestly gained should be securely held. ' What 
 about crime ? ' I said to one of the mayors whom I mentioned before, 
 an ex-member of the Commune who knew Paris intimately. ' We have 
 none,' he said. ' No crime '? ' I asked ; ' do not people rob and murder each 
 other ? ' ' No,' he answered, ' we have no magistrates, no police ; and 
 that in a city which under the Empire took 10,000 gendarmes to keep it 
 in order.' I am sure that what he said was in the main true ; the excite- 
 ment of the time, and the fact that occupation, with a low pay, was 
 found for every one in the ranks of the Federal army, really prevented 
 mischief for these few weeks ; and no doubt if plunder had occurred on a 
 large scale, a detachment of troops would have stopped it. ' And,' my 
 friend added, ' the school children go to school every day.' 
 
 One of our favourite walks was to the south-west corner of Paris, just 
 where the Seine leaves the city. It was a very vulnerable part, though 
 fairly safe as yet ; and we used to watch the duel that went on between 
 the forts of Issy and Vanves which guarded it, and the Versailles batteries 
 on the hills beyond. Another walk was to the top of Montmartre, from 
 which one gets a splendid view of all the west country ; there was always 
 a crowd of idlers here, to whom we could listen as they discussed the 
 situation, sometimes with jokes, sometimes with passion. Here it was 
 that, as a friend (an enemy of the Commune) told me, a lady one day was 
 standing close by a woman who seemed distressed at the sight before her. 
 1 The rascals ! ' she finally said. ' Yes,' said the lady, ' I wish the 
 Versaillais would come and kill them all.' It was an unfortunate remark, 
 as the woman's exclamation was directed not against the Federals, but 
 against the enemy. There were angry looks at the lady ; the bystanders 
 abused her, and she went away ! The incident was told me as a proof 
 of the ferocity of the populace. I thought it myself a specimen of very 
 remarkable mildness. The great delight here was always to look at the 
 wagon blinde, the ironclad engine down at Asnieres in front of us. 
 There was a long iron screen which hid its movements from the enemy. 
 Behind this it would get up steam, load the gun that it carried, and then 
 creep to one end or other of the screen, deliver its shot, and be out of 
 sight again before Valerien or some other battery could reply. All over 
 the country puffs of smoke were going up from either a battery or the 
 explosion of a shell on one side or the other ; occasionally a house would 
 be set on fire ; sometimes, but not often, we could distinguish the harsh 
 metallic sound of a mitrailleuse. It was at Neuilly that the hardest 
 fighting went on ; here it never stopped in fact. I went to see one of the 
 hospitals, which was admirably managed : a Federal captain was dying 
 of his wounds at one end ; at another a lady was teaching a convalescent 
 soldier his alphabet he had got as far as E. The surgeon told me the
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PAEIS 347 
 
 fighting had been very severe a great many bayonet wounds, especially 
 at first. 
 
 One morning we were awakened by a tremendous noise of firing, and 
 thought the enemy was in the city. We rushed to the window, and 
 saw the solitary hotel servant below. 'What's the matter? ' we cried 
 together. ' Eien, monsieur -on se bat,' was the reply, which I have often 
 thought of as significant. However, we dressed and dashed off towards 
 the noise. It was not inside the city, but at one of the gates, against 
 which a violent cannonade was being directed, and it was replying as 
 well as it could. We got as near as we thought it safe to go. An ugly 
 black fragment came flying across the street and struck a house corner ; 
 I carried it home as a souvenir and have it here. 
 
 We succeeded, not without some trouble, in getting passes to enable 
 us to leave Paris at pleasure, and very convenient they were. We might 
 indeed have got out among the Prussians and come round to Versailles ; 
 there was nothing to prevent our seeing M. Thiers or Marshal MacMahon 
 (who now, by the way, had returned from his captivity along with many 
 thousand soldiers of the line, and was in chief command), and bringing 
 them plans and pictures of the defences. Was a war ever known before 
 in which there was almost free communication between one headquarters 
 and the other ? Indeed, we were rather tempted to spend a day or two 
 among the other side ; but we were afraid of getting into some trouble, 
 and gave up the idea. But one or two days we got outside the city, and 
 went down to the river towards the blown-up bridge at Asnieres, where 
 the soldiers were lazily firing at one another across the river. They did 
 not hurt each other much. ' Don't stand just there,' said one, ' that is a 
 bad corner ; two men have been shot there this morning.' We got up 
 into a half-finished house close by and had a look at things, making 
 friends with the men by dividing our lunch with them. One man wished 
 it was over ; he ' didn't like it ; shooting anybody was bad enough though 
 Prussians after all mattered little but shooting Frenchmen, that was 
 different.' On the way home I passed a solitary sentry, an ordinary 
 specimen of what the English newspapers called the bloodthirsty ruffians 
 of the Commune, and offered him the remaining half of a chicken sausage 
 that I had brought from London. He refused to take it, as it was the 
 last I had. 
 
 Then another day we strolled out among the Prussians, and saw their 
 army, and the awful havoc that had been made in the great sortie of 
 December, village after village in ruins. We got on a hill, and sat in the 
 sun and ate our lunch ; a burnt village was at our feet ; the Prussian 
 soldiers near us ; the birds were singing gaily over our heads in the trees ; 
 and far away on the other side of Paris, Valerien was thundering against 
 the city walls. 
 
 The attacking forces were no doubt courageous and well commanded. 
 Half of them were returned prisoners of war, and half were drafts collected 
 from the rest of France. Everything was done to animate them for 
 work. ' What ! was one city to set itself up against the nation ? Just when
 
 348 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 the terrible war was over and peace made, was the country to be plunged 
 in fresh conflict just because a handful of selfish adventurers set up some 
 fancied municipal rights and asserted a ridiculous claim to govern them- 
 selves in defiance of the national sovereignty ? It was time,' they cried, 
 ' that once for all Paris should be taught who was master.' 
 
 But it would be endless to describe the profound interest and the 
 amazing contrasts of this strange phase of politics and of war alike. One 
 thing was clear enough to us, that Paris would be beaten. From the 
 time when the Commune had made up their minds that they must act on 
 the defensive alone, and it had become certain that the other towns 
 would not, or could not, corne to their aid, the besiegers were bound to 
 win. It is true that at Lyons, Marseilles, and elsewhere in the South, 
 attempts had been made to establish a similar Commune and to cope 
 with the power of the Central Government ; but one after another these 
 efforts had been suppressed ; and it was clear that the mass of the nation 
 were on the side, not indeed of the Assembly as such, but of the Govern- 
 ment of M. Thiers. And slowly the military strength of Versailles 
 increased, and that of Paris diminished. Even the political force of the 
 Commune seemed to grow weaker. Public order, however, still reigned ; 
 there was little or no violence. The first thing done by the people of 
 Paris when they felt themselves free was to burn the guillotine. When 
 I hear of the atrocities of the Commune, I always ask the person who 
 speaks if he can mention to me an instance of a single life which was 
 taken by order of the Commune, or during its reign of seven weeks. My 
 belief is that as long as that reign lasted, and till it was broken up by the 
 entry of the troops, there was not one. A court-martial would sometimes 
 pronounce a sentence of death, but it was never carried out. Private 
 property, with the exception of three or four houses, was respected. The 
 Bank of France had eight millions sterling in its vaults. The Governor 
 said to the Commune, ' Plunder this and you ruin France. But you say 
 you want funds. Well, draw upon me for what money you want, sign a 
 receipt, and you shall have it.' Beslay, the President of the Commune, a 
 man of the strictest integrity, was appointed to arrange matters with the 
 Bank, and from time to time sums were paid out across the counter. As 
 much more was raised by taxation ; and though money was squandered, 
 of pillage and robbery there was none. 
 
 It may be asked, How far did the Commune attempt to carry out the 
 programme of organisation of labour, of the exaltation of the artisan 
 class, the socialist or semi-socialist ideas with which so many of its 
 members had started ? It was not only a movement for republican and 
 free institutions, it was also at bottom a protest against the social system 
 which it found existing under the Empire. What came of that side of 
 it ? Very little. Empty workshops were to be reopened with associations 
 of artisans, but there was no tune to organise them. Bakers were for- 
 bidden to work at night, on the ground that fresh bread is less important 
 than the baker's health ; but people wanted their bread fresh, and the 
 order was never obeyed. Of course the Commune was anti-clerical ;
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PAEIS 349 
 
 many churches were used as club-rooms, but there was no prohibition of 
 the Mass on Sundays, and but little destruction of what was valuable. 
 Once a body of soldiers came to the great cathedral of Notre-Dame, the 
 St. Paul's of Paris, and began to pack up the church furniture and load 
 it in a van. A bold beadle went off straight and told the Commune. 
 They sent down a delegate, who replaced everything as it was, and the 
 beadle graciously wrote to the Commune that he was satisfied. Decrees 
 were made to renew for a certain period commercial bills that were falling 
 due, and to suspend the payment of house rents. These things were 
 matters of necessity in time of war, and the Assembly itself, in a less 
 degree, did the same. But the greater part of the meetings of the Commune 
 were spent it is a matter of mere history in ignoble disputes, displays 
 of petty vanity, futile and ridiculous proposals, and daily conflicts of 
 authority. How can men govern if they have never learnt? What 
 chance under an imperial system could there possibly have been of 
 acquiring even the elementary maxims of the conduct of public business ? 
 
 One thing they were determined upon that the Vendome Column 
 must be thrown down. That was the big column erected in honour of 
 Napoleon's victories, and coated with the bronze of conquered cannon. 
 Trophies of imperialism and military pride were offensive ; down the 
 column must come. But when it came down they managed the business 
 with such regard for the neighbouring property that the fabric of the 
 work was but little damaged, and it stands there again now tall as ever. 
 
 Meanwhile the Federal troops were being overmatched at Neuilly, 
 and MacMahon's trenches were creeping nearer and nearer to the forts 
 of Issy and Vanves. Few shells fell inside the town, but the bombard- 
 ment outside was terrible. Cluseret had been dismissed, and Rossel took 
 his place. He was young, of great intellectual ability, stainless in life, 
 romantic ; he cared little about the current disputes, but he cared heart 
 and soul for the Republic ; an active soldier, though inferior in military 
 skill to Cluseret. But he never had a fair chance. Military affairs were 
 almost an anarchy. The Committee of Public Safety, as it was called, 
 had been set on foot by a majority of the Commune; a large minority, 
 including some of the best of them, were with difficulty prevented from 
 seceding altogether. The disorder of affairs increased ; some newspapers 
 were suppressed ; arbitrary requisitions began to be made. As for the 
 War Office, it was hampered in every step by the old Central Committee, 
 which insisted on its own way in military action ; and when Rossel com- 
 plained to the Commune, they were powerless to assist him. Fort Issy 
 was crumbling beneath the Versailles fire. Once it was almost abandoned, 
 then quickly reoccupied. But the moral effect was fatal, and early in 
 May Paris learned* that the tricolor flag was floating over its ruins. 
 
 And yet the Federals fought well. Day after day I saw them march 
 to the front, singing and gay, each with his loaf impaled on his bayonet. 
 ' They got paid for it,' says some one. Yes, a shilling a day. I wonder 
 how many of those men were alive a month afterwards. They were 
 mostly ignorant, often reckless and vicious. But they had an idea that
 
 350 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 in some way or other the reign of emancipation and brotherhood was 
 come, and that they had to fight for it. Of the temper hi which they 
 worked I have said something already, and I will only add this. I have 
 before me a pile of newspapers that were sold by thousands in the 
 streets, the typical journals of the time : the ' Vengeur,' the ' Cri du People,' 
 the ' Mot d'Ordre,' the ' Eappel.' Find, if you can, in one of these a single 
 word of instigation to disorder, to outrage, or to cruelty. And all the 
 while not only the newspapers of Versailles, but the Assembly itself, was 
 proclaiming every day that the criminals of Paris must be taken and 
 shot. One more thing : there was plenty of literature sold in the streets 
 that was infamous and disgusting, as, for that matter, there is still. But 
 if there was any difference in public manners, in the general tone of 
 decency at meetings of amusement or of politics, if there was any distinc- 
 tion as regards the places to which an honest woman might go, between 
 the time of the Empire and that of the Commune, I believe the advantage 
 to have been on the side of the Commune. I cannot say it for certain ; 
 I only know that I heard mob orators proclaim it aloud amid the applause 
 of their audience. 
 
 Rossel, who declared that if his orders had been carried out he could 
 have saved Fort Issy, now resigned, and went straight off to prison. He 
 had no military successor ; Delescluze was nominated as Delegate of 
 War. He was not a soldier, but he was respected, and they hoped he 
 would be obeyed. Probably by this time few of the defenders of Paris 
 had much hope of success. Thiers was besieged by applications from 
 persons, many of whom were probably impostors, who sent word that 
 they would abandon to him this or that position of defence. Once a 
 proposal of the kind was very near succeeding ; some culprits were caught 
 in the act of arranging matters with the emissaries of the Government. 
 Strange as you may think it, they were not put to death, but only sent to 
 prison. But now in the Versailles army the massacre of prisoners began 
 to occur again. Thiers actually promised the Assembly that no pardon 
 would be granted without their consent to the leaders, and the soldiers 
 were unchecked in the ferocity with which they began to treat their 
 prisoners. Some tune afterwards I was rambling over what was left of 
 Fort Issy, 1 and talked to a soldier who had been one of those engaged in 
 its capture. ' A difficult matter ? ' I said to him. ' No,' he said, ' in the 
 end we had only to walk in.' ' Many prisoners taken in it? ' I asked. 
 ' No,' he simply answered, ' on tua tout ce qu'on trouva.' There were 
 some in the Commune now who began to remember the hostages, and 
 ominous suggestions were made. But still the reluctance to shed blood 
 prevailed, and the proposal found no favour. 
 
 The end came at last. The means of defence were worn out ; discipline 
 was almost gone, though men like Dombrowski still played their part 
 bravely ; and MacMahon was close to the gates. Fort Vanves had fallen 
 
 1 The great bombardment of Issy and its capture were after Edward Bowen had 
 returned to England. The allusion in the text is therefore to a second visit to Paris, 
 which he paid some months afterwards.
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PAKIS 351 
 
 on May 13 ; on the 19th the Central Committee declared itself responsible 
 for the conduct of the war, and if the struggle had not been hopeless 
 before, it would have become so now. On Saturday, the 20th, a tremendous 
 fire was opened upon all the west and south-west of the city ramparts. 
 On Sunday, the 21st, they were almost abandoned, and by three o'clock 
 that afternoon the Versailles troops were pouring through the breaches in 
 the walls. Dombrowski receives the news, sends for reinforcements, 
 despatches a note to the Commune that if they are sent he can be 
 responsible for the city. The message was read as they were assembled 
 at the Hotel de Ville ; it was the last sitting of the Commune. It dis- 
 appears now from history. Some of its members met repeatedly during 
 the scenes that followed, those of the 'Public Safety,' those of the 
 delegations, and others ; but all that was done after this was done either 
 by the remnants of the old committee of the National Guard, or by 
 individuals acting together or alone as best they could. 
 
 That Sunday evening was mild, calm, and starry. The streets, the 
 cafes, the theatres were full. A rumour of the entrance had spread, but 
 it was not believed. All through the night the troops poured in, as the 
 Greeks poured into Troy. No one had organised a system of defence, if 
 indeed any were possible. On the Monday morning came an appeal 
 from Delescluze, characteristic of the man. ' Enough,' he said, ' of 
 military nonsense. No more gilt lace and strategy. Make room for the 
 people, who fight bare-armed, and want no generals for their barricades.' 
 That was stirring, but it was not the way to win ; some battalions obeyed 
 it only too well, and broke their ranks. But still Paris was roused. 
 There were those, it is true, who, like Felix Pyat, showed themselves 
 once at the Hotel de Ville, talked much of dying for the cause, and then 
 disappeared altogether. But now barricades rose in every street, and as 
 the Monday went on, and for the four days that followed, the soldiers of 
 Versailles made their way inch by inch through streets and houses, amid 
 fire and corpses, till all was over. 
 
 I need not describe the whole week. Imagine only the troops 
 crowding in in resistless numbers, fighting furiously, and rarely giving 
 quarter ; and the defenders falling back from point to point, weaker and 
 weaker, knowing that they fought for their lives, or rather for a bare 
 chance of life wild, desperate, half maddened by passion and defeat. 
 There were three principal columns of invaders, Lamirault on the north, 
 Douay in the centre, Cissey along the south. For the defence one notices 
 as most energetic Dombrowski above all in the centre, a prodigy of 
 activity and devotion, Malon and Vermorel on his right, Varlin on the 
 left. Mere workmen were as good as soldiers now for animating the 
 resistance, and the steadiest men came to the front. Delescluze, though 
 ill and exhausted, was not one to flinch from his post, nor Cournet. ' I 
 saw one barricade,' said one of the principal actors to me, ' where we 
 went in two hundred strong, and came out fifty.' 
 
 There are in Paris three elevated spots which might serve as citadels 
 of defence, the Trocadero, the Pantheon, and Montmartre. The first of
 
 352 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 these was never held in force ; it was seized the first afternoon. On the 
 Tuesday, Laniirault was in possession of Montmartre, which had been 
 ill defended ; and by the afternoon of that day shells were pouring from 
 its height upon the Federal batteries in front of the Tuileries. In the 
 centre and on the south side the resistance was more sustained. The 
 Ministry of Finance was in flames ; gradually the troops crept round and 
 along the southern wall, and burst through from house to house ; the 
 streets were flowing with blood. 
 
 The morning of Wednesday brought to the civilised world news which 
 none that heard it will ever forget. Paris, so the message ran, was in 
 flames. The Tuileries were burning, the Palace of the Legion of Honour, 
 all the chief buildings of the city, even, a little later, the H6tel de Ville. 
 Viewed from Versailles it seemed as if the entire city were ablaze. ' The 
 destruction of Paris ' was the heading which appeared for some days in 
 the ' Times.' It was an exaggeration ; but several public edifices and 
 some hundred private houses were, that day and the next, in ashes. 
 Against the defenders of Paris rose a cry of horror, of which the echoes 
 are not dead yet. What is the truth on the subject ? This only can be 
 said for certain. Some buildings and some houses were undoubtedly 
 burned intentionally by the Federal commanders, in some cases to gain 
 time for retreat, in others to prevent the turning of a barricade. Some 
 buildings were with equal certainty set on fire by the attacking batteries, 
 partly without intention, some (I can guarantee the fact) of set purpose. 
 As to the Tuileries, a strong sympathiser with the party of Versailles told 
 me that he saw shells from Montmartre dropping all the Tuesday in its 
 neighbourhood. On the other hand, there is some evidence for the theory 
 of incendiarism ; and without attaching much weight to the testimony 
 which exists in profusion of witnesses who seem to me quite untrust- 
 worthy, I am inclined on the whole to lean towards the view that the 
 Tuileries were set on fire at the last moment by the actual soldiers who 
 had been defending it. 'A crime, if so,' says everyone who hears it; 'to 
 destroy the monuments of history, and the triumphs of architecture, is a 
 barbarous act.' Well, barbarous perhaps. But remember that you are 
 speaking of men who did not look on the glories of Louis XIV. and the 
 trophies of art as we do. I think they saw in them big buildings into 
 which a common man was never allowed to penetrate, which existed for 
 the pleasure of emperors and courtiers, and, moreover, buildings the blaze 
 of which might give the defenders some twenty-four hours longer life in 
 this world. As for the H6tel de Ville, the case is different. It was the 
 centre of the insurrection, the pride of the Paris commonalty; and no motive 
 of spite could operate to its injury. How it fell, in the middle of the 
 Wednesday, is a profound mystery. It certainly was not, any more than 
 the destru ction of the Tuileries, by the decision of the few leaders who 
 were there ; it may have been the work of a private incendiary, but I fear 
 the question must remain unsolved. I may remark that the famous art 
 gallery of the Louvre was never even threatened, though at one time it 
 was in danger from the spread of the flames ; and that if the Federals
 
 THE COMMUNE OF PAEIS 353 
 
 had wished to blow up half Paris, they could have done it in a few hours. 
 However it may be, Wednesday saw, amid the blaze of burning buildings, 
 a further advance of the army ; more than a third of the city was in their 
 hands ; they reached now to the foot of the Pantheon on the south, resist- 
 less in their progress, and not without massacre of even unarmed prisoners, 
 and on the north side the defenders were driven back into the eastern 
 half of the city. 
 
 Thursday came with fresh horrors. By this time almost all attempts 
 at concerted defence were abandoned ; each leader did what he could with 
 those whom he could get to follow his guidance. And now, in the midst 
 of the agonising struggle, there arose in some of them the tiger which lies 
 crouching beneath some human hearts, and which defeat and despair 
 will, at a terrible moment, awaken. Of many of those who were fighting 
 there in the first rank, I believe that even in that death-agony they would 
 have done no cruel thing, and unquestionably no cruel thing was ever 
 done by their common resolve. But yet that Thursday is a day of bitter 
 memory. The hostages were still in prison. Already on the Tuesday 
 evening Bigault had bethought him of one prisoner against whom he 
 cherished a violent enmity. He went to his prison, asserted what 
 authority he had, and on a frivolous ground of treachery caused him and 
 three others to be shot. On this Thursday, Jules Ferre", of his own accord, 
 and without consultation with the other leaders, went to the prison of 
 La Roquette, where the hostages were detained. He called out six of 
 the most important, and brought in a detachment of thirty men. They 
 came out into the courtyard of the prison ; the archbishop gave his 
 absolution to the other five, they took their places and died with him. 
 
 The same day there were in another prison twenty Dominican monks 
 who had been accused no one knows on what evidence of making 
 signals to the enemy. These were now told to go out into the street. 
 Men with guns were waiting there as they came. Eight escaped, twelve 
 were killed. This was done by a colonel in the National Guard. 
 
 Once more it was the following day a body of prisoners collected 
 from more than one prison were being marched along under an escort of 
 Federals, in the Eue Haxo. A cry arose that they were to be shot, and 
 in some minds the thought was father to the wish. Some took their part ; 
 others cried out for blood. Varlin, who had been leading the resistance 
 in this quarter for four days, tried to save them. He was threatened 
 himself by the mob ; savage passion won the day, and one by one they 
 were shot down. 
 
 These are the massacres of the Commune, as they are called. 
 Terrible indeed they are, and so terrible that some people forget that 
 there remained to the last two hundred more hostages who were not shot. 
 But I would ask you only, with regard to these crimes, to remember this. 
 They were perpetrated by men who had been fighting through the week 
 amid shot and flame, who had seen friend after friend die at their side, 
 and who knew that if they fell themselves into the hands of the enemy 
 death was their certain fate. The defenders of the city were being shot 
 
 A A
 
 354 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 down, in cold blood, literally by thousands. A well-known doctor, who 
 had taken no part in the events of the last two months, was shot 
 because he was a socialist. Wounded men in the hospitals were taken 
 out and shot by order of officers, because the fact of their being wounded 
 proved that they must have been fighting for the Commune. Horrible 
 as the deeds which I have related are, do they equal in ferocity and guilt 
 the murders to which officers like General Vinoy and General Galliffet 
 were leading, and some of them encouraging, their soldiers ? 
 
 That same night Dombrowski's body was brought in. He had died 
 fighting. He was a simple soldier, almost the only one who had taken 
 no part in the struggles of faction, but had done his very hardest from 
 the first day to the last in a cause which he thought a good one. 
 His body was laid, by torchlight, beside the Column of July, and each of 
 his soldiers, as they passed beside it, stooped down and kissed his fore- 
 head. 
 
 It is easy to picture the last two days of the week, during which, 
 inclosed in a circle drawn nearer and nearer, the relics of the defeated 
 party still carried on a hopeless struggle. Hopeless indeed it was, for 
 victory was out of the question, and every man taken who had his hands 
 black with powder, or who wore any uniform, or who looked in any way 
 suspicious, was put to death at once. A few last scenes have yet to be 
 told. 
 
 The Belleville quarter made in the end but little resistance ; the men 
 there were simply exhausted. But the Bastille barricade and the Chateau 
 d'Eau barricade were defended with extraordinary resolution. Near a 
 barrack in the east of the city there is a large open space with a fountain 
 in the middle ; the army had carried the streets which commanded it. 
 Two members of the Commune called on those behind them to make a 
 charge. They leaped forward and reached the middle of the square ; not 
 a man had followed them. Bullets were coming like hail. They couched 
 behind the fountain and then rushed back. One, Vermorel, fell; the 
 other, Cournet, escaped and survived. 
 
 The Pantheon had been carried, and Milliere, a journalist, was arrested 
 by the troops. A captain of the line came up : ' Shoot him,' he said. ' I 
 am neither a combatant nor one of the Commune,' said Milliere ; ' I am 
 a journalist and a deputy of the Assembly.' ' You are a viper and an 
 enemy of society,' answered the captain. He made two soldiers force 
 their captive upon his knees on the steps of the church of the Pantheon. 
 ' Vive I'humanite' ! ' were his last words as he fell dead. The captain (his 
 name is Garein) told this story himself with pride at Versailles. General 
 Vinoy perhaps was present himself : it is a certain fact that he gave his 
 subsequent approval to the murder. 
 
 But it is not necessary, perhaps not desirable, to go through the 
 scenes of butchery, as they are to be found in the evidence of the ' Times ' 
 correspondent, of sworn witnesses some of them Versailles officers at 
 subsequent trials, of more than one eye-witness who has related them to 
 me himself. You have probably heard the word petroleuse. The story
 
 THE COMMUNE. OF PARIS 355 
 
 ran that women had gone about with petroleum, setting fire to houses out 
 of mere malice. Every woman who looked ragged, or who could not 
 stammer out a good account of herself, fell under suspicion, and no 
 sooner was the cry of petroleuse raised than all hope for that woman 
 was gone. No one knows how many wretched creatures perished under 
 the accusation. Well, it was false from first to last. Not one single 
 woman was ever proved to have acted thus from one end of the week 
 to the other. If you wish to know on what authority I say this, it is on 
 the authority of the chief law officer of the Versailles Government. 
 
 I have named some few of the leaders as resisting to the last. Valles 
 was believed to have been taken and killed, but he really escaped. 
 Theisz and Cournet, when the last barricade fell, found refuge in a house, 
 disguised themselves, and after some adventures fairly got away. Rossel 
 was captured and shot six months afterwards. Varlin was seized when 
 all the fighting was over, and brought before one of the generals, who 
 ordered him away to execution. They made him walk for an hour 
 through the streets, bound, insulted, attacked. He gradually sank. 
 ' That young meditative head,' so writes one of his friends, ' which had 
 never had a cruel thought,' was hacked with sabre cuts. He was carried 
 along, placed on the ground, and shot. He was the man, you will 
 remember, who risked his life to save the victims of the Eue Haxo. 
 
 I believe the number of those killed to have been at least twenty 
 thousand. As many more for they became too numerous to shoot 
 were carried away as prisoners. I spare you the recital of some of the 
 things that occurred at Versailles. It happened that shortly afterwards 
 I had an opportunity of using some slight influence with the Government 
 of Versailles. I had a promise that if I could name one man among the 
 Commune for whom I wished to intercede, an application should be made 
 to M. Thiers in his favour. I named Malon. I had a message afterwards 
 that he was safe in Switzerland, but how he got there I do not know. 
 
 To relate the escapes of some of them would be interesting, but I have 
 not time. Let me tell you the end of Delescluze. His health had long 
 failed, and labour and anxiety had exhausted what strength was left. On 
 the last day but one he saw that the cause was utterly lost. He did not 
 wish to survive it. ' I have had enough of Cayenne and the hulks,' he 
 said. His comrades spoke to him as to a man about to die. From a few 
 friends only one of whom described to me the scene he concealed his 
 intention. The sun was setting behind the smoke of burning houses. 
 The street and open space by the Chateau d'Eau was empty, close to an 
 unoccupied barricade. Dressed in ordinary costume, but with the scarf 
 of his now extinct office, carrying no arms but a walking-stick in his hand, 
 he walked slowly across the boulevard. He was the only living creature 
 there. His grave austere face looked solemnly onwards, he never once 
 turned round. When he came to the barricade, the old man mounted it 
 steadily, and stood quietly for a moment on the top : then the fatal bullet 
 struck him. He was a man, as I humbly think, of partly mistaken aim, 
 and partly perverse action. Would you rather have been Delescluze, 
 
 A A 2
 
 356 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 who fell on the barricade in a ruined cause, or the Marquis Galliffet, who 
 shot old men and women as they marched along in the ranks of the 
 prisoners to Versailles, and is now an honoured and decorated general ? 
 
 Some months afterwards, being in Paris, I heard that there was to be 
 a private auction of Delescluze's few books, for the benefit of his surviving 
 sister, and I went to it. Only a small group of men was there ; among 
 them I remember one young workman close to the table, a tall fine- 
 looking man, much interested in what was going on. There came in the 
 middle of the sale one book in which were written a word or two of 
 affectionate dedication, rather touching in their expression of respect for 
 the old revolutionary leader. The young man I mentioned began to bid ; 
 five francs were offered, six francs. ' Ten francs,' he said. There was a 
 pause ; and then there were one or two more bids of eleven or twelve. 
 ' Twenty francs,' said the workman. The small group seemed surprised, 
 and I saw even looks of emotion ; but there was another bid. Twenty- 
 one francs twenty-two francs. ' Thirty francs,' cried the man, and he 
 had the book. I bought one or two myself for a few francs ; they are of 
 no value ; here they are. 
 
 On Sunday morning, May 28, a handful of insurgents still held the 
 cemetery of Pere-Lachaise, in the extreme east of the city. I have seen 
 it said that there was no fighting there ; no one who saw the place after- 
 wards could suppose so. They fought behind tombstones and trees, 
 beaten back and shot down ; I know of one man who fought to the very 
 last, even with the butt of his rifle in the end; then threw it down, 
 climbed over the wall, and by some miracle escaped. 
 
 So ended an experiment in political government, which seems to me 
 more dramatic in interest and more fertile in instruction than the history 
 of any similar period that I know. These things happened sixteen years 
 ago in the most cultured capital in Europe. As there are no books on 
 the subject which are even approximately truthful, I have thought it 
 worth while to put together an outline of the facts, on every word of 
 which, if you will only take my own veracity for granted, you may rely 
 as certain, up to the limits that reasonable evidence and proof can 
 guarantee. I am not now going to ask you which party was in the right 
 in a contest where one side wrote on their standard ' The Unity of France,' 
 and the other ' The Rights of the People.' There are few struggles and I 
 am not prepared to say that this is one where virtue, loyalty, and 
 wisdom are all combined and banded against their opposites. Nor am I 
 going to draw any moral from the story that I have told. I shall have 
 told it to little purpose if those who have done me the favour of listening 
 cannot draw morals, of probably equal value, for themselves.
 
 357 
 
 VIII 
 
 EVIDENCE BEFORE THE ROYAL COMMISSION 
 ON SECONDARY EDUCATION 
 
 [On July 25, 1894] l 
 
 THE Commissioners present were : The Eight Hon. James Bryce, M.P. (in 
 the chair), the Bight Hon. Sir J. T. Hibbert, K.C.B., M.P., the Hon. and 
 Rev. Edward Lyttelton, M.A., Sir Henry E. Boscoe, D.C.L., M.P., the 
 Very Bev. the Dean of Manchester, D.D., the Bev. A. M. Fairbairn, D.D., 
 Mr. B. C. Jebb, M.P., Mr. B. Wormell, D.Sc., Mr. Henry Hobhouse, M.P., 
 Mr. M. E. Sadler, Mr. H. Llewellyn Smyth, Mr. G. J. Cockburn, Mr. J. H. 
 Yoxall, the Lady Frederick Cavendish, Mrs. Bryant, D.Sc., Mrs. Henry 
 Sidgwick, the Hon. W. N. Bruce (Secretary). 
 
 I. The Examination by the Universities of Secondary Schools 
 
 Question. (Chairman.) I believe that you entertain decided opinions 
 on the question of the extent to which it is desirable that the Universities 
 should be given any control over the secondary schools of the country ? 
 
 Answer. A good many years ago I ventured to print something on 
 the subject, 2 which is perhaps out of date now, but I still entertain the 
 same opinions, generally speaking, that I entertained then. 
 
 Q. Do those views which you have expressed go at all to the action of 
 what is now known as the joint board of the two Universities ? 
 
 A. The experiment has been conducted with more success than I could 
 have expected, chiefly because it has been carried out in a less ambitious 
 way. No attempt has been made to carry out the larger programme 
 which was before the country, or, at any rate, before the headmasters, 
 some twenty years ago. The result is, I think, fairly, and not more than 
 fairly, satisfactory. 
 
 Q. As regards the various methods which have been suggested for the 
 
 1 Reprinted from the Report of the Commission by leave of the Controller of 
 H.M. Stationery Office. It should, however, be stated (a) that the evidence is not 
 given quite in its entirety, since a few of the questions put to the witness were either 
 unimportant, or were not such as to elicit from him any additional opinion or argu- 
 ment ; (&) that the evidence has been somewhat rearranged so as to bring together 
 all the answers upon one point. 
 
 2 Vide pp. 316 ft.
 
 358 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 examination of schools, is there any one which you are inclined to prefer ? 
 I will call your attention particularly to the action of the joint board, and 
 to the habit which the greater schools themselves have formed of inviting 
 examiners, who are usually University men, to come and examine their 
 pupils, as also to the proposals that have been made with regard to sub- 
 mitting boys leaving school to an examination similar to what is called in 
 Germany the Abiturienten-Examen'? 
 
 A. The old system of private examination always worked fairly well ; 
 at any rate, the schools that could afford to pay large prices always got 
 good examiners. As regards the general examinations what are called 
 the certificate examinations my knowledge of the subject ought not to 
 be put against that of any experienced headmaster, because it does not 
 fall to me except indirectly to appreciate what has taken place. But as 
 far as that experience has gone, the examinations have been but 
 moderately good ; they have not, for example, been, in my opinion, as 
 good as those that are conducted ordinarily by the Civil Service Com- 
 missioners. Putting the Oxford and Cambridge examinations of schools 
 against the Civil Service Commissioners' examinations, I should say that 
 the latter are, on the whole, the better of the two. It is perhaps almost 
 paradoxical to say it, but I think it is the truth. The Civil Service 
 examinations seem to me to be, on the whole, very good ones, and not 
 sufficiently appreciated by the world, and I suppose that in the case of a 
 general public Abiturienten-Examen it is that Commission which would 
 do the work, or something analogous to it. 
 
 Q. (A commissioner, later on in the examination.) In what respects 
 do you think that the examinations conducted by the Civil Service Com- 
 missioners are better than the examinations conducted by the Oxford and 
 Cambridge Joint Board ? 
 
 A. There I simply speak as a professional examiner and schoolmaster. 
 Beading over their papers, and seeing the questions that are set, and the 
 carefulness of the arrangement of the standard, I should say that the 
 former seem to be on the average better than the latter. 
 
 Q. It has been suggested that if there were an Abiturienten-Examen 
 it should be placed under the control of a public department, or under the 
 control of the Universities. I gather from your answer that you would 
 prefer the control of a public department to that of the Universities ? 
 
 A. Yes, personally. 
 
 Q. (A commissioner, later on in the examination.) How would 
 those remarks apply to inspection, not examination ? 
 
 A. I am against inspection altogether. 
 
 Q. Against inspection by any body whatsoever ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. But in the schools that are aided by public money and local taxa- 
 tion grants, or under the Technical Instruction Acts, you would recognise 
 that there must be some form of control by the granting authority, or the 
 rating authority, which makes those grants ? 
 
 A. I conceive that it is so,-but I have no knowledge myself upon it.
 
 EVIDENCE ON SECONDAEY EDUCATION 359 
 
 II. A General Leaving Examination 
 
 Q. Would you desire to see a general Abiturienten-Examen ? 
 
 A. I am not desirous of it at present. Considering the very great 
 trouble and very great cost of such a system, I do not feel very anxious 
 for it at the present time, but I should say again that my opinion is not a 
 very good one in that respect, because I have not a large knowledge of 
 any other than the chief public schools. My acquaintance with those is 
 considerable, but I do not know very much of the larger circle of schools. 
 Speaking only of what I do know, I think it is easy to pay too large a 
 price for an ordinary Abiturienten-Examen. 
 
 Q. Do you conceive that the multiplicity of the [various] examinations 
 [for entrance to the professions] is a practical difficulty in the way of 
 schools ? 
 
 A. No ; that is not true, I think, as regards the chief ' public schools.' 
 
 Q. Would it, for instance, be an advantage to the schools if, instead of 
 having to provide for the needs of boys who are going to offer themselves 
 for these different examinations, there were one uniform examination 
 which should govern the various branches of public careers and the 
 various professions, whether such an examination were conducted apart 
 from the school examination or were conducted in the form of an 
 Abiturienten-Examen ? 
 
 A. My answer as far as my experience goes is this : I should not 
 attach a very great value to it ; I should be so very much afraid of the 
 practical difficulty of working, the great expense, the constant friction 
 with schools, the overpowering pressure that would be brought to bear by 
 such an examination on the curriculum. I should be very much afraid of 
 obstacles being placed in the way of free development of our studies. 
 
 Q. (A commissioner, later on in the examination.) I understand that 
 you are opposed to any compulsory leaving examinations, because of the 
 effect of the compulsory leaving examination upon the curriculum, 
 cramping and affecting the whole course of the work of the school ? 
 
 A. I am anxious with regard to it. 
 
 Q. On the whole you would not recommend the Commission to set up 
 any compulsory leaving examinations for the use of secondary schools ? 
 
 A. I am rather nervous and anxious about it than actually opposed to 
 it. I can conceive it done, but I can foresee so many difficulties that 
 might arise that I should look upon it with some apprehension. 
 
 Q. You would fear that the whole course of a scholar's life at school, 
 and the whole teaching in a school all a scholar's life, would to some 
 extent be directed with a view to the ultimate examination ? 
 
 A. Yes, I should fear so. Everybody knows that we are greatly 
 influenced by examinations. I think that the general complaint is that 
 we are too much in fear of examinations now. 
 
 Q. (Chairman.) You mean it often happens that the master sees a 
 line in which his teaching might be developed properly, but is deterred 
 from following that line by thinking that no value could be given to it in 
 the examination ? 
 
 A. Yes.
 
 360 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 III. Best Age for passing from a Public School to an University 
 
 Q. Have you any opinion to express upon the proper age at which 
 boys should pass from one of the what are called ' public schools ' to the 
 Universities ? 
 
 A. Yes, I have a somewhat strong opinion upon that, which, rightly or 
 wrongly, I have preached for a long time. I am of opinion that the age 
 tends to become too high for leaving school for the University. ... I 
 should say that in the last generation the age has become higher ; whether 
 it has become so in the last few years I have some doubts. I have taken 
 some pains to inquire, and I do not learn that the immediate tendency in 
 the last few years has been to raise the age ; but I should wish that the 
 age should be distinctly lowered. 
 
 Q. What age would you think the proper one ? 
 
 A. I am sorry when a boy goes to the University later than his 
 eighteenth birthday. He now goes much oftener after it than before. 
 
 Q. Would you not say that it might be still better if he went about 
 his seventeenth birthday ? 
 
 A. I should not go quite so far as that. I should hardly go farther 
 than I have gone. I should prefer that a boy should join college before 
 he is eighteen ; that leaves a considerable limit. 
 
 Q. What do you consider to be the causes which have made the age 
 of going from school to the University somewhat later than it used to be ? 
 
 A. It tends to keep high through several reasons. The chief of them, 
 I think, is the pleasantness of schools. Fathers do what their boys wish, 
 and the boys are always happy at school. That pleasure at school is 
 altogether a different thing since fifty or sixty years ago. The particular 
 eminence of games is one which is entirely of late creation. That tends 
 very largely indeed to keep boys at school, because there is such a grip 
 kept upon the good players. 
 
 Q. Is this grip kept upon good players by the sentiment of the school 
 and the houses, or also by the masters ? 
 
 A. I am afraid it is quite as much one as the other. . . . When a boy 
 becomes seventeen or eighteen years of age he is very often a persona 
 grata to his master, and the master likes to keep him for the sake of 
 discipline and example. 
 
 Q. That is assuming him to be a good boy ? 
 
 A. Yes ; but it is very largely the case that a master prefers not to 
 let his big boys go, for considerations which it would be perhaps harsh to 
 call selfish. 
 
 Q. Has the fact that the college scholarships can now be competed for 
 in most, or nearly all, colleges up to the age of nineteen, and sometimes 
 up to the age of twenty, any influence ? 
 
 A. Large influence, because the scholarships are gained, as you are 
 aware, at the age of nineteen, and a boy may stay at school in some cases 
 for nearly another year afterwards.
 
 EVIDENCE ON SECONDAEY EDUCATION 361 
 
 Q. So it may happen that a boy may stay at school till nearly his 
 twentieth birthday ? 
 
 A. Yes. That, of course, is rather a warm subject at present. Some- 
 thing is being done at the Universities towards attempting to remedy the 
 defect you have mentioned. 
 
 Q. Are there any scholarships which can be competed for after the 
 age of twenty ? 
 
 A. I think not. The disadvantages of boys remaining at school so 
 late seem to be both as regards themselves and the school. I consider it 
 a disadvantage for a boy to begin life and work much later than twenty- 
 one. It does harm to the school in so far as it tends to make masters 
 treat boys as older than they are. There is something unnatural in 
 telling a boy of nineteen to go to bed at a fixed early hour. That sort of 
 thing cannot but tell awkwardly upon the whole school. 
 
 Q. You mean it leads inevitably to a certain relaxation of discipline, 
 because the discipline which is suited for the younger boys is not suitable 
 for a boy of nineteen or twenty ? 
 
 A. It is very difficult indeed to arrange that it shall be the same ; 
 and, generally speaking, boys, because they like to remain, submit them- 
 selves to restrictions which ought not to apply to them at all. When you 
 let the best boys stay, it tends to raise the general age. There are, it is 
 true, in most schools rules of superannuation ; but it is not the wish of 
 some masters, and it is difficult for others, to enforce them. 
 
 Q. Are you in a position to say how far the views which you have 
 expressed to us are shared by other masters of public schools ? 
 
 A. I am afraid there would be a great difference, and very warm 
 difference, of opinion. 
 
 Q. The views which you have expressed are, I believe, held by a good 
 many people at the Universities ? 
 
 A. Yes. The Universities throw the blame on the schools for keeping 
 the boys, and we throw the blame on the Universities for not asking for 
 them earlier. Dr. Ridding, who was the headmaster at Winchester, 
 wrote to me in reply to a certain pamphlet which I published nearly 
 twenty years ago, saying that his opinion strongly coincided with mine 
 upon that subject, and I have very often heard it since, of course. Still, 
 there are many wise people who differ. 
 
 Q. I suppose you would feel, on the other hand, that the very causes 
 which have brought about this raising of the age are the forces which 
 would oppose themselves to such a reform as you suggest ? 
 
 A. The pleasantness of schools is a new thing, and the publicity of 
 the games is a new thing. 
 
 Q. Do you think that the extreme devotion to what are called athletics 
 will be a permanent factor in school life ? 
 
 A. Yes, I should think so, speaking merely of games. 
 
 Q. You do not think that it may to some extent prove a passing 
 passion or fashion ? 
 
 A. I think not ; I hope not.
 
 364 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Would you see any great difficulty in requiring those who intended 
 to devote themselves to the profession of teaching to attend a course of 
 lectures extending, perhaps, over one or two terms in the science and art 
 of teaching, and during that time to practise themselves a little in teach- 
 ing in schools in the place ; or would you consider that that, although easy, 
 would be valueless ? 
 
 A. I should attach very small value to it. A really good master for 
 such a school as that from which I come is a very valuable thing, and a 
 headmaster would think twice before he would reject him because he had 
 not gone through that course. 
 
 Q. The question would rather be whether he would not be more 
 efficient for the purpose of teaching if he had received that training, and 
 whether it would not save him from some of those mistakes which 
 inexperience might lead him into at first, and make him sooner fitted for 
 the intellectual part of his work ? 
 
 A. Although I acknowledge that to some extent that is the case, 
 I think it is commonly exaggerated. That is all I can say. 
 
 Q. You said that a master in one of the great public schools is chiefly 
 a moral and social force ; but, after all, does he not give teaching ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. And his teaching may be better, or it may be worse ? 
 
 A. Yes ; but I think it will not be very much better or worse in virtue 
 of what you have described. It may be perhaps a little, but I think it is 
 commonly exaggerated. 
 
 Q. In other words, you do not think that such instruction as can be 
 given in the science and art of teaching, based either upon psychology or 
 upon ethics, will make any substantial difference to his ultimate effective- 
 ness as a teacher ? 
 
 A. Quite so ; I think that it would make a very small difference. 
 
 Q. You think it is so much a matter either of natural gift or the 
 power of picking up from experience, that the element of systematic 
 training may be practically ignored ? 
 
 A. I almost go as far as that. 
 
 Q. Then, in other words, you have not come across persons whose 
 mistakes and deficiencies as teachers would have been to any sensible 
 extent cured by their having received a better special preparation before 
 they entered upon their teaching work ? 
 
 A. It would hardly have been touched by the books they have read. 
 I cannot conceive that they can, without enormous cost of time and 
 money, have gone through a practical training such as would have cured 
 those mistakes to any great extent. I accept the few words you said a 
 few minutes ago, but so much depends upon persons' idiosyncrasies that 
 this will have but small effect. 
 
 Q. And although you spoke more particularly with regard to the 
 public schools that is to say, to the great boarding schools, where the 
 master is constantly in communication with the boys during their play
 
 EVIDENCE ON SECONDAEY EDUCATION 365 
 
 hours as well as their work hours you would extend those observations 
 to teaching in secondary schools generally, including, of course, the day- 
 schools, which form the great majority of secondary schools ? 
 
 A. The argument which I use appears less in proportion as the mere 
 intellectual teaching forms a larger proportion of the school-work. 
 
 Q. That is to say, in a day-school where the master's sole business, or 
 almost his sole business, is the imparting of knowledge, you think the 
 element of special training might have more relative value than in a 
 boarding-school '? 
 
 A. Yes, I quite accept that ; but even then I do not agree with the 
 very great stress laid upon it by most persons. 
 
 Q. (A little later in the examination.) Is there any other point upon 
 which you would like to express an opinion to the Commission ? 
 
 A. I should like to add to what I was saying about the training of 
 teachers, that I have been unable to conceive any machinery by which the 
 art of teaching can be given practically to masters. The art of teaching 
 seems to me so much a matter of personal power and experience, and of 
 various social and moral gifts, that I cannot conceive a good person made 
 a good master by merely seeing a class of boys taught, unless he was 
 allowed to take a real and serious part in it himself; unless he became a 
 teacher himself. I can understand that at a primary school you can 
 learn by going in and hearing a good teacher at work ; but the teaching 
 of a class of older boys is so different, and has so much of the social 
 element in it, and it may vary so much, that I should despair of teaching 
 a young man how to take a class, unless he was a long time with me. To 
 try to do it hurriedly, or to do it perfunctorily, seems to me useless. 
 
 Q. You do not think that there are certain mental laws or processes 
 common to, or applicable to, the teaching of all scholars alike, whether 
 primary, secondary, or University, which it is possible to understand 
 better by having one's attention systematically called to them, and the 
 use that may be made of them ? 
 
 A. No, I do not think so, although it seems rash to say it, because a 
 bad man teaching history well is a far worse thing than a good man 
 teaching history badly. 
 
 Q. But what is suggested is that a good man might teach history 
 better ? 
 
 A. Still, all the same, I venture to suggest that the man himself is so 
 much more important than the details of school-work, that it is not worth 
 while thinking of the second in comparison with the first. 
 
 Q. (A Commissioner.) You said that the teachers of the public boarding 
 schools were chiefly moral and social forces. Does it not occur to you 
 that it is possible that the moral and social force, even in a most admirable 
 person in that capacity, may be largely discounted and counteracted in 
 schools by want of ease and power in the art of teaching ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. And I suppose it often happens that a graduate going from a 
 university to school of the type we are now considering finds he is
 
 366 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 inclined to be a failure in the art of teaching and has to give up the 
 work ? 
 
 A. Very seldom, if he is such a person as we are thinking of. 
 
 Q. But there is no guarantee that he is likely to be a suitable person 
 for the work to which he goes ? 
 
 A. The headmaster would never think of taking him unless he was. 
 
 Q. I am thinking of the pedagogic qualification. Neither the 
 assistant master nor the headmaster can know that this particular 
 graduate is likely to be successful as a teacher ? 
 
 A. I can hardly agree with that, because when you know a man you 
 can pretty well form an estimate beforehand as to whether he will be 
 likely to succeed. One can gauge to a very large extent his qualifications ; 
 for instance, say, good humour, good health, the tone and justness of his 
 mind. 
 
 Q. Then you take the view that the art of teaching in practice, and 
 discipline in particular, may be considered as very largely the reflex of a 
 man's character upon the children ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. And therefore nothing but inherent character can go a very long 
 way towards effective teaching ? 
 
 A. I would go a very long way towards that. 
 
 V. Public Schools and a Central Authority 
 
 Q. (Chairman.) Have you anything to say with regard to the rela- 
 tion which what are called first grade secondary schools, such as Harrow, 
 should hold either to a central educational authority for the country or to 
 any local authority within whose bounds they may happen to be situate ? 
 
 A. This only, remembering again that I represent only a certain 
 number of schools. We are very largely before the eye of the public, and 
 we are in less need of what you suggest than some other schools might 
 be. That is the important thing to remember. In ten or twenty of the 
 large schools everything that is done is known to the public and to their 
 clientele. At the present moment they do not need what you are 
 describing. 
 
 Q. In other words, you do not think that there are any points on 
 which they could receive substantial help or aid, either from a local 
 authority by which I mean a county or provincial authority or from a 
 central educational authority ? 
 
 A. No, I do not. As regards the first, I really see no connection ; as 
 regards the second, while education is in its present state I am so afraid 
 of our being cramped. I believe the Commission has before it the original 
 author of a certain story with regard to a French minister having pulled 
 out his watch. I invented that story some thirty years ago. There is no 
 pressing danger of that at the present moment, but I can of course easily 
 conceive that with the examples of France, Gennany, and Sweden before 
 us, there might be.
 
 EVIDENCE ON SECONDAEY EDUCATION 367 
 
 Q. You would conceive that would be a danger to be guarded against 
 in the formation of a central authority ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. You would not feel that such schools as Harrow or Eton, which 
 are, as you say, in the public eye, and whose alumni continue to be 
 interested in them, would be sure to be preserved from any encroach- 
 ments ? 
 
 A. I should still be very much afraid of being cramped. One knows 
 that the Germans are of the same race as we are, and education in 
 Germany is seriously affected by the power of the Government. It is true, 
 in fact, of every civilised European country except England. 
 
 Q. Of course, in all those countries education has been organised by 
 the State ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. In England there never has been any State organisation of secon- 
 dary education at all ? 
 
 A. Quite so ; and whatever merit it may have, the danger of cramping 
 the work of schools seems to me one that it is almost impossible to over- 
 rate. 
 
 Q. Would you apply that even to entrusting further powers to the 
 Universities than they now enjoy ? 
 
 A. I should be very sorry to give the Universities further powers. 
 
 Q. You think the same danger of cramping might apply in the case of 
 any control by the Universities.? 
 
 A. I have no reason for wishing to be controlled by the Universities. 
 
 Q, I will not say controlled, but influenced ? 
 
 A. I think the influence of the Universities is as great as it should be. 
 
 VI. Headmasters and their Assistants 
 
 Q. (Chairman.) Have you any opinion to express upon the question 
 of whether an assistant master should have an appeal against dismissal 
 by a headmaster, or whether a headmaster should have an appeal against 
 dismissal by a governing body ? 
 
 A. As regards the first there is, I believe, no difference of opinion 
 among teachers on the subject. If it were not for difficulties which may 
 be familiar to, at all events, the Chairman of this Commission, a Bill 
 would have been passed long ago in Parliament to alter the present law. 
 
 Q. That is to say, to give the assistant master a right of appeal to the 
 governing body ? 
 
 A. Yes; I know nobody who does not think so. Things work 
 smoothly at schools without it, but at any moment occasions might arise 
 which would make it highly desirable that there should be an appeal, 
 and an Act of Parliament with a single clause would give it, practically. 
 
 Q. What opinion would you express with regard to the question 
 whether a headmaster, dismissed by the governing body of his own 
 school, should have an appeal to any other and what authority ?
 
 366 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 inclined to be a failure in the art of teaching and has to give up the 
 work? 
 
 A. Very seldom, if he is such a person as we are thinking of. 
 
 Q. But there is no guarantee that he is likely to be a suitable person 
 for the work to which he goes ? 
 
 A. The headmaster would never think of taking him unless he was. 
 
 Q. I am thinking of the pedagogic qualification. Neither the 
 assistant master nor the headmaster can know that this particular 
 graduate is likely to be successful as a teacher ? 
 
 A. I can hardly agree with that, because when you know a man you 
 can pretty well form an estimate beforehand as to whether he will be 
 likely to succeed. One can gauge to a very large extent his qualifications ; 
 for instance, say, good humour, good health, the tone and justness of his 
 mind. 
 
 Q. Then you take the view that the art of teaching in practice, and 
 discipline in particular, may be considered as very largely the reflex of a 
 man's character upon the children ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. And therefore nothing but inherent character can go a very long 
 way towards effective teaching ? 
 
 A. I would go a very long way towards that. 
 
 V. Public Schools and a Central Authority 
 
 Q. (Chairman.) Have you anything to say with regard to the rela- 
 tion which what are called first grade secondary schools, such as Harrow, 
 should hold either to a central educational authority for the country or to 
 any local authority within whose bounds they may happen to be situate ? 
 
 A. This only, remembering again that I represent only a certain 
 number of schools. We are very largely before the eye of the public, and 
 we are in less need of what you suggest than some other schools might 
 be. That is the important thing to remember. In ten or twenty of the 
 large schools everything that is done is known to the public and to their 
 clientele. At the present moment they do not need what you are 
 describing. 
 
 Q. In other words, you do not think that there are any points on 
 which they could receive substantial help or aid, either from a local 
 authority by which I mean a county or provincial authority or from a 
 central educational authority ? 
 
 A. No, I do not. As regards the first, I really see no connection ; as 
 regards the second, while education is in its present state I am so afraid 
 of our being cramped. I believe the Commission has before it the original 
 author of a certain story with regard to a French minister having pulled 
 out his watch. I invented that story some thirty years ago. There is no 
 pressing danger of that at the present moment, but I can of course easily 
 conceive that with the examples of France, Germany, and Sweden before 
 us, there might be.
 
 EVIDENCE ON SECONDAEY EDUCATION 367 
 
 Q. You would conceive that would be a danger to be guarded against 
 in the formation of a central authority ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. You would not feel that such schools as Harrow or Eton, which 
 are, as you say, in the public eye, and whose alumni continue to be 
 interested in them, would be sure to be preserved from any encroach- 
 ments ? 
 
 A. I should still be very much afraid of being cramped. One knows 
 that the Germans are of the same race as we are, and education in 
 Germany is seriously affected by the power of the Government. It is true, 
 in fact, of every civilised European country except England. 
 
 Q. Of course, in all those countries education has been organised by 
 the State ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. In England there never has been any State organisation of secon- 
 dary education at all ? 
 
 A. Quite so ; and whatever merit it may have, the danger of cramping 
 the work of schools seems to me one that it is almost impossible to over- 
 rate. 
 
 Q. Would you apply that even to entrusting further powers to the 
 Universities than they now enjoy ? 
 
 A. I should be very sorry to give the Universities further powers. 
 
 Q. You think the same danger of cramping might apply in the case of 
 any control by the Universities ? 
 
 A. I have no reason for wishing to be controlled by the Universities. 
 
 Q. I will not say controlled, but influenced ? 
 
 A. I think the influence of the Universities is as great as it should be. 
 
 VI. Headmasters and their Assistants 
 
 Q. (Chairman.) Have you any opinion to express upon the question 
 of whether an assistant master should have an appeal against dismissal 
 by a headmaster, or whether a headmaster should have an appeal against 
 dismissal by a governing body ? 
 
 A. As regards the first there is, I believe, no difference of opinion 
 among teachers on the subject. If it were not for difficulties which may 
 be familiar to, at all events, the Chairman of this Commission, a Bill 
 would have been passed long ago in Parliament to alter the present law. 
 
 Q. That is to say, to give the assistant master a right of appeal to the 
 governing body ? 
 
 A. Yes; I know nobody who does not think so. Things work 
 smoothly at schools without it, but at any moment occasions might arise 
 which would make it highly desirable that there should be an appeal, 
 and an Act of Parliament with a single clause would give it, practically. 
 
 Q. What opinion would you express with regard to the question 
 whether a headmaster, dismissed by the governing body of his own 
 school, should have an appeal to any other and what authority ?
 
 368 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 A. I cannot conceive any authority at this moment which would be 
 capable of exercising such a function usefully. 
 
 Q. It would be a question of what authority, of course, but the point 
 is rather this : whether there are cases in which the dismissal of a head- 
 master by a governing body ought to be subject to review by some 
 external authority ? 
 
 A. I am afraid I cannot offer an opinion about that. My knowledge 
 is limited ; and nothing that I could say, I think, would be of value with 
 regard to any but the chief schools.
 
 369 
 
 IX 
 
 AENOLDIDES CHIFFEES; 
 OR, THE ATTITUDE OF THE SCHOOLMASTEE 
 
 A ' U.U.' ESSAY 1 
 [1897] 
 
 THE biographer of Arnoldides Chiffers seems to have regarded that emi- 
 nent man as an ideal ruler of boys. 
 
 ' No one [he writes] ever left the school without bearing the impress of 
 his striking personality. His rule was inflexible, but just. He would 
 sink, indeed, the master, and become a boy himself among boys; he 
 would seek at times the popularity that flowed from his joining personally 
 in their games ; but he could resume on occasion a dignity which would 
 tolerate no compromise. Caring for nothing in the world but the success 
 of the institution which he helped to govern, he regarded its fame as the 
 first of objects, and its very cricket matches as tests of its welfare. Work 
 with him was work, and play was play. No lounging or smiling before 
 the desk of such a teacher ; every pupil feared him while at class, but, the 
 lesson over, had nothing to fear. Lavish in rewarding excellence, he 
 never passed over a fault. Schoolboy errors, indeed, he saw with the eye 
 of a schoolboy, unless they trenched on what to him was sacred ground 
 study, order, the majesty of work ; and he hated above all things, in a 
 growing mind, slackness and inattention and frivolity. As the " Times " 
 writer said of Dr. Benson at Wellington, it was a treat to see the zealous 
 satisfaction with which he chastised the boy found out in a lie. In a 
 word, he studied day by day to bring his own moral influence to bear on 
 the characters of those entrusted to him, he made his approval their 
 standard, and taught them to regard one another, not from the point of 
 view of fleeting popularity or schoolboy honour or social gifts, but from 
 the eternal point of view of right and wrong.' 
 
 The little that I know of Arnoldides makes me believe that it would 
 have given him great pleasure that I should quote this estimate of him 
 in the forefront of an essay. But he would have been gradually mystified 
 as I go on. For, paradox though it may be, I am about to hold up the 
 distinguished schoolmaster that I have named as the example of all the 
 things that one of his trade should not be. I had thought of calling this 
 paper ' The Idols of the Profession ' meaning Baconian idols but I 
 could not think of four emblems to call them by ; so I must fall back on 
 Arnoldides, and let us consider his excellences in some sort of order. 
 
 1 Reprinted by permission from the Journal of Education, April 1897. 
 
 B B
 
 370 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 Regard, for example, the crisp division of his day into times of work 
 and play. In a copy-book, this would come well. In the educational 
 leading article of a daily paper, it would have its merits. I can think of 
 nothing so appropriate for the training college in which our successors 
 will all have to spend a couple of years. But on what, in reality, in the 
 heaven or earth or the waters under the earth, does it rest as a basis ? 
 Why are we to dissolve the natural and fruitful marriage of grave and 
 gay ? I can just imagine some one arguing that you do not bring qua- 
 dratic equations into football. Well, there is not time for them ; the play 
 is so short and the lessons so long ; and yet there is more in the ' Mr. 
 Barlow ' idea than modern preceptors are usually willing to allow. But 
 wilt thou know, vain man, that play without work is dead ? Work is 
 systematic effort, conscious progress, deliberate ambition to be better to- 
 morrow than to-day, the delight in new-developed gifts and who would 
 care much for games unless all this were included ? So, again, humour, 
 paradox, fancy, nonsense gild the solidity of a lesson. But it is not 
 worth while to argue against an idea which no one holds. If a passage 
 in the book lends itself to fun, we neither repress it nor wish to. Why 
 not be as natural over your Tacitus as you would be if you were working 
 some Wednesday morning at the proofs of your dictionary of pedagogics, 
 and some one brought the new ' Punch ' into your room for a moment ? 
 'Why not, then, make half the lesson play?' Because it would be a 
 waste of time. You can afford one minute in sixty ; you cannot afford 
 a dozen. But that is the only reason, and not the dignity of your 
 teaching. 
 
 I hope, however, that when I speak of work enlivened by play, I shall 
 not be supposed to mean merely jokes. The schoolmaster's jests have 
 been satirised, from Goldsmith downwards, quite enough to place us on 
 our guard. I mean, of course, the spirit of play, the good temper, cheer- 
 fulness, gaiety, if you will, the disposition to make the best of things, the 
 absence of suspicion, the tolerance, the forbearance, the unity. Let there 
 be make-believe war, if you like, between the master and the form ; it 
 may help the game along ; if they perfectly know that it is make-believe 
 and nothing more, they will play their part dutifully, and not take unfair 
 advantages. Such a temper does not lend itself to idleness or disorder ; 
 it does not even tend to it, as far as I can see. To whistle in school 
 would have been a crime under Mr. Chiffers, of course, and his boys were 
 afraid to do it. But the class that I am describing will not whistle because 
 it would spoil the understanding, it would argue a selfish isolation of 
 temper, it would not be the proper thing, it would interrupt the proceed- 
 ings, it would not be ' playing the game.' A pupil who behaves in this 
 spirit does not need punishments, any more than he needs them when 
 fielding at cricket ; he ought to feel the suggestion of such a thing, unless 
 in the remote background, as an affront. Nor will he much need prizes 
 and rewards either. Perhaps it may be remembered that the model 
 whose biography is so thumbed in all educational libraries was lavish of 
 rewards for merit. We are not told about his punishments ; we only know
 
 ARNOLDIDES CHIFFEES 371 
 
 that his attitude towards the falsehood was what, archbishops or not, we 
 should all be ashamed of. But he ought to have known, as we know, 
 that rewards are almost as demoralising as punishments, and that the less 
 we have of them the better. Very few boys want them ; the energy that 
 they impart to the few does no good to the many. They are unsocial, 
 they discriminate where we want to solidify, they feed vanity where we 
 want to inspire companionship. A very little temperate praise, just to 
 give voice to the common admiration for excellence, is the best reward, 
 and generally enough. Mr. Chiffers gave Jones a book bound in calf for 
 translating a satire of Horace without a mistake. If he had only re- 
 marked that Jones was not such a very bad construct after all, it would 
 have had as much effect, and would have been more in the humour of the 
 game. 
 
 And so with the lounging. Why should not they lounge ? ' Because 
 they cannot attend to the work ? ' That is certainly not the case. Every 
 gentleman whom I am addressing at this moment is sitting with the 
 easiest adaptation of himself to his chair that he can command ; but I am 
 nevertheless sure either that he is attending, or, anyhow, that he will not 
 contradict my argument on the ground that he is not. One listens better if 
 one is comfortable except, perhaps, on warm afternoons. May they then 
 loll anyhow ? They do not want to ; but, if they did, no. The limit is 
 simply that point at which they would cease to show respect, I do not say 
 to their beloved instructor, but to each other, and the system, and to him 
 as representing it. So long as they demean themselves as they would in 
 a drawing-room, he should be content. 
 
 You see, I am going on the theory that boys are willing to learn ; and, 
 if an angel from heaven proposes any view of lessons other than this, or 
 founds any pleas or maxims in defiance of it, let him be certificated ! 
 But, as this is so true that the exceptions must not be allowed to spoil the 
 argument, we must work from first to last in the spirit of such an hypo- 
 thesis. The schoolmaster of our biography, you may have noticed, never 
 cares to make the lessons pleasant, which is the alpha and omega of 
 teaching ; he is feared in school, but not out of school ; whereas the atti- 
 tude of his pupils towards him ought at all times and seasons to be much 
 the same. When lessons are disliked it is generally because they are too 
 hard ; and of course everybody cannot have everything exactly suited to 
 his powers. But climbing a rock and fielding a drive are hard work ; and 
 it is never the hard work, in moderation, that is disliked, but the ex- 
 pected impossibility, or the want of companionship and friendliness, or 
 physical dullness of soul which cannot at times be helped. And one's 
 brother must be forgiven until seventy times seven. If a boy wishes to 
 work and wishes to attend, but cannot do either of them because human 
 nature is feeble, there is a chance that sternness may mend him, but only 
 when everything else has failed. The exceptional boy who does not wish 
 to do either is different ; but slackness and inattention and frivolity, which 
 the eminent schoolmasters hate, are things which many growing boys 
 cannot avoid. All I mean to convey is that the great mass of our forms 
 
 B B 2
 
 372 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 would rather learn than not, and, if a master drive instead of helping, he 
 will gain what is hardly worth gaining. With luck one may carry out the 
 theory to almost unheard-of lengths. It is a solemn fact that a class that 
 I know of came up voluntarily to school on a whole holiday morning last 
 year not for any bribe, exemption, or consideration whatever. It was, 
 no doubt, a kind of freak ; and they did it more or less by way of a show- 
 off, and for the fun of narrating it to an incredulous world ; but the thing 
 was really done. 
 
 Look, too, at the attitude of our friend Arnoldides towards his pupils' 
 games. He tried ' to be a boy among boys.' But why should he not 
 have been just what he was ? Why a boy at games more than a boy in 
 walking up to school or in an arithmetic lesson ? He was not ashamed, 
 we read, to seek popularity by joining in play. He ought to have been 
 ashamed of anything so silly. The notion that a master becomes popular 
 by taking part in cricket or football is, of all absurdities, the most absurd. 
 If he is good-tempered and gentle, and does not domineer, he will be 
 popular, if he plays nothing more than the trombone. A taste for sports 
 will give him the advantage of companionship, and an opportunity of 
 studying human nature, but it will not make him liked or disliked any 
 further than he intrinsically ought to be. And you will notice that the 
 great Chiffers, essaying to be what he was not, a boy among boys, natu- 
 rally omitted to become something more than his scholastic duties made 
 him, and remained a sort of glorified tradesman. He had no outside 
 pursuits. Perhaps he told his boys to have higher interests; but he 
 himself cared, you will remember, for nothing but the success of his 
 school. Change the surroundings, and he would have cared as much for 
 the success of boots or bicycles. Politics, pictures, the future of the 
 legitimate drama, the missionary movement at the South Pole, all passed 
 on and left him a schoolmaster, and nothing more. I do not wonder that 
 ' his rule was inflexible.' He had none of the moderating influences 
 which help men to enlarge the narrowness, and withstand the domina- 
 tion, of the best professions in the world. To be inflexible is a vice, not 
 a virtue. But, once you have lost citizenship and worldliness, the im- 
 pressible mind and the historic temper, it is not for nothing that you have 
 been a boy among boys and not a man, that association with immature 
 intellects has done the harm against which your precautions should have 
 been taken, and that the teacher has not, indeed, awaked and found 
 himself a pedant ; for a pedant never awakes. 
 
 1 We next come to Cambodia. Cambodia,' said the governess, ' is 
 almost as big as Siam.' ' Cambodia,' murmured the children, drowsily, 
 ' is almost as big as she is.' This came into my mind as a jest, but 
 remains as a parable. The children had been so long taught to think of 
 their teacher, and her methods and her rules, that she remained their 
 standard of comparison when it should have been a district of Asia. This 
 is what the good Mr. Chiffers did when he endeavoured to leave upon the 
 boys the impress of his striking personality. He devoted himself wholly, 
 his biographer says, to bringing his moral energy to bear upon them.
 
 ABNOLDIDES CHIFFEES 373 
 
 But, you will say, if he is by hypothesis better than they are, why should 
 he not do so ? In the first place, it is not proved that he was better. He 
 did not throw boots about the passages, or draw horses in his dictionary ; 
 but although culture does help the judgment and offers wider horizons 
 it is not clear that he was beyond the boys in sympathy and self- 
 restraint. But, secondly, what can be, and should be, consciously done 
 in this direction is but little. The experience of teachers has not gene- 
 rally brought the conviction that specially directed efforts can do much 
 to change a boy's nature. It does most of the changing for itself. The 
 building grows, like the Temple of old, without sound of mallet and 
 trowel. What we can do is to arrange matters so as to give Virtue her 
 best chance. We can make the right choice sometimes a little easier, 
 we can prevent tendencies from blossoming into acts, and render pitfalls 
 visible. How much indirectly and unconsciously we can do, none but 
 the recording angel knows. ' You can, and you should,' said Chiffers, 
 ' go straight to the heart of every individual boy.' Well, a fellow-creature's 
 mind is a serious and sacred thing. You may enter into that arcanum 
 once a year, shoeless. And in the effort to control the spirit of a pupil, 
 to make one's own approval his test, and mould him by the stress of our 
 own pressure, in the ambition to do this, the craving for moral power and 
 visible guiding, the subtle pride of effective agency, lie some of the chief 
 temptations of a schoolmaster's work. 
 
 I am ashamed to confess that I cannot remember whether Arnoldides 
 was a clergyman or not. It fortunately does not matter much to a 
 schoolmaster's functions, unless he has to preach sermons ; and, anyhow, 
 none are extant in print under Mr. Chiffers' name. But, whatever 
 opportunity he may have had for exhortation, we know from the bio- 
 grapher what sort of things he said. And in the pulpit discourses which 
 we hear not of course in the place where we are this evening, but at 
 other schools a good many miles away how much there is, Sunday after 
 Sunday, of the Chifferesque ! I am convinced that none of the preachers 
 who address their immature congregations ever say on purpose what is 
 not true. But a gay imagination enwraps and beatifies their conception 
 of school life. ' You, my younger hearers,' said Mr. Chiffers, ' who have so 
 newly left your homes for the first tune to mix with a world of strangers ' 
 and yet he knew as well as they did that every single young gentleman 
 before him had been to another school for three or four years already. 
 ' Beware of the false ensnarement of popularity,' he went on ; 'it is not 
 the best of your companions who are most esteemed by giddy applause.' 
 But a day's observation would show to the teacher that this is exactly 
 what does happen, and that, in most casefc, a boy is liked because he 
 deserves to be. ' If a thing that is wrong comes before you, say loudly, 
 whoever hears you, that it is wrong.' Yes, but we know how a boy's 
 more delicate reserve substitutes, with happy indirectness, the intellectual 
 for the moral, and tells the evil-doer that he is a fool. ' Take my word 
 for it,' Arnoldides would say, ' it is only the cowards who tell lies.' The 
 boys will not take his word, if they are wise. They know only too well
 
 374 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 that, while fear leads to some crimes of falsehood, it is more often the 
 timorous who confess, and the bold bad boys who venture on the lie ; 
 and those are the worst lies that are told. ' Think much of your past 
 faults,' said Mr. Chiffers. ' Think of any other mortal thing in. prefer- 
 ence,' a healthy boy's nature would reply. ' Away with false phantoms,' 
 he cried, ' of what is called schoolboy honour ' as if schoolboy honour 
 were anything else than honour ; and that virtue is the same in every 
 age and time. ' Cherish it,' he should have said, ' and believe in it, and 
 trust it to lead you to something even better.' ' Too often,' he used to 
 warn his hearers, ' the throng around you will ask you to join in laughing 
 at what is good and right.' In a school novel of course they will ; but 
 outside those romantic pages what boy ever met with the phenomenon ? 
 ' Before giving your friendship to a schoolfellow,' he would tell them, 
 ' test and probe his moral worth, and select your friends among those 
 only who are good.' That advice fell, I trust, unheeded. The quality 
 of friendship is not strained ; and the boys know something of their 
 Gospels. And he would conclude with telling the older boys to think 
 every hour of the day about influencing the others towards virtue. Fancy 
 the attitude of mind of the captain of an eleven who should say at the 
 beginning of an innings, ' Go to, I will now use my moral influence on 
 my team.' If a boy swears when hurt, he should tell him to stop that ; 
 and, if he cribs in school, he should say, in the euphemism just alluded 
 to, that he is a fool ; because everyone knows that you oughtn't to swear 
 or crib. But that is not using influence ; it is keeping up the spirit of 
 the thing, exalted conventionalism. All through his years the schoolboy's 
 cherished idea, and that which makes schools hopeful things, is the idea 
 that things ought to go on in the proper way, and that he himself ought 
 to contribute to the propriety. If he has thrown stones he is half, or a 
 quarter, sorry but the dog was BO tempting. If he is likely to lean 
 towards graver wrong, the sternest terror that you can hold before him 
 is that his house will be pointed at and talked of. Look at the silly con- 
 ventions of the boys among themselves, and what they will do rather 
 than break them. And they will be correspondingly surprised if their 
 superiors lapse from a standard of similar elevation. A little time ago, a 
 headmaster, in addressing the school about catching cold and efficient 
 clothing, when he wished to speak of ' sweaters,' did not indicate the 
 garment by a periphrasis, but actually used the word. Some boys were 
 discussing at dinner afterwards whether he ought to have done so, and 
 generally came to the conclusion that he ought not. The dear little 
 prigs ! Depend upon it, the one foible of modern boys is that they are 
 too prone to good behaviour. Conventionality rules the camp, the court, 
 the grove, the fags below, and sixth form above. But it rules them 
 
 slowly and progressively for their benefit. H , with all thy virtues, 
 
 I love thee still ! 
 
 For, if you want to swim against the stream, you must first learn to 
 swim with it. The civic temper is the preparation for the heroic, and to 
 overcome is less glorious than to lead. It is the same in the inner life
 
 AENOLDIDES CHIFFEES 375 
 
 of our profession, and we train ourselves, if we care for our work more 
 than our hobbies, in smoothness, conformity, tolerance. Schoolmastering 
 and politics these are the two trades to which this art is needful beyond 
 most others. Opportunism is the back view of the edifice of which 
 statesmanship is the fa$ade ; the edifice is one and the same. The 
 Exchequer and the Admiralty are at war, but the Government must 
 pass the Budget. A permanent secretary finds his political chief hopeless 
 and incapable, but he neither says so nor appears to think so. You are 
 a headmaster, and your colleagues read the sporting papers ; you are an 
 assistant, and your head drones and sleeps ; or your governing body does 
 pig-headed things, or your boys are vulgar. But the art of life consists 
 in making the best of the tools that you have, and playing your part with 
 courage, as if they were all keen and strong. It is what the great Dun- 
 donald could not do, and that makes the moral of his life. You believe 
 in Church and State, and your environment is radical ; or you hold the 
 newest heresies, and the tone of the place is all saints and mysteries. 
 These things are all less important than what you have to do, and it is 
 your business to use the phrase once more to play the game. Then, 
 when you have once put self and vanity in the second place, you will be 
 worth quite as much as a man, and worth much more as a schoolmaster. 
 It will not seem unnatural if your pupils learn to do the same themselves. 
 Character will shape together, interests will drift towards a common end. 
 You will not have, like Mr. Chiffers, to pretend to take a boy's point of 
 view ; for, widely different as their thoughts are from yours, they will 
 yet understand that your temper and desires are the same. If you talk 
 with them, you may be a comrade without pretending to be a child : when 
 they work with you, they will be your companions, wayward, frivolous, 
 stupid, peevish, intractable perhaps, but companions, fellow-travellers, 
 playmates. 
 
 On the tombstone of Arnoldides Chiffers I believe it is recorded that 
 in every respect he endeavoured to follow the example of the great school- 
 master after whom he was named. It is probable that he did. A great 
 man's weak points are more easy to imitate than his strong, and in the 
 picture of Arnold himself, as he is drawn for us, there are features which 
 further experience, if we had the creation of a new Arnold in our hands, 
 would lead us to modify. He was no more a perfect teacher, we may 
 presume to say, than Savonarola was a perfect divine. But all excep- 
 tional men have their special task, and that of a reformer is by common 
 consent the hardest. Mix together, if you can, John Knox and Goethe : 
 try a combination, ad hoc, of Ezekiel and Pascal. Who can be so many- 
 sided, so broad of soul, as the ideal schoolmaster should be ? Well, per- 
 haps we shall never be so ourselves ; but it is our business, by our own 
 little efforts, by meetings and conversations on such occasions as this, 
 to try and produce him for the coming years ; assisted, I need hardly 
 add, by a Teachers' Training Syndicate, and a department of the County 
 Council.
 
 376 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 SONGS AND VEESES 1 
 
 I 
 FOBTY YEAES ON 
 
 FORTY years on, -when afar and asunder 
 
 Parted are those who are singing to-day, 
 When you look back, and forgetfully wonder 
 
 "What you were like in j r our work and your play 
 Then, it may be, there will often come o'er you 
 
 Glimpses of notes like the catch of a song 
 
 Visions of boyhood shall float them before you, 
 
 Echoes of dreamland shall bear them along. 
 
 Follow up ! Follow up ! Follow up ! Follow up I 
 
 Till the field ring again and again, 
 With the tramp of the twenty-two men, 
 Follow up ! Follow up ! 
 
 1 Most of these songs and verses were published by Edward Bowen in 1886, and 
 the order in which he then arranged them has been retained, the few additional 
 ones being placed at the end. The edition had the following preface : 
 
 ' The songs which are here reprinted were written at various times during the last 
 eighteen years, and have found an indulgent reception at the hands of several genera- 
 tions of schoolboys. For whatever interest they may have awakened, they are 
 chiefly indebted to the genius and skill of Mr. John Farmer, by whom nearly all of 
 them have been set to music, and presented to an audience which, for the sake of the 
 singers, as well as for his, has never been too harshly critical of the sentiments or 
 the words. I ought to mention that some of the lines in No. XV. and two or three 
 in No. XVIII. are the work of a friend. 
 
 1 A few other pieces are added, chiefly connected with Harrow ; these, though 
 not of permanent interest, will perhaps find readers who may care to have them in 
 print.' 
 
 An index to the Songs and Verses, as here printed, will be found at the beginning 
 of the volume.
 
 SONGS 377 
 
 Bouts and discomfitures, rushes and rallies, 
 
 Bases attempted, and rescued, and won, 
 Strife without anger, and art without malice, 
 
 How will it seem to you, forty years on ? 
 Then, you will say, not a feverish minute 
 
 Strained the weak heart and the wavering knee, 
 Never the battle raged hottest, but in it 
 
 Neither the last nor the faintest were we ! 
 Follow up ! &c. 
 
 the great days, in the distance enchanted, 
 
 Days of fresh air, in the rain and the sun, 
 How we rejoiced as we struggled and panted 
 
 Hardly believable, forty years on ! 
 How we discoursed of them, one with another, 
 
 Auguring triumph, or balancing fate, 
 Loved the ally with the heart of a brother, 
 
 Hated the foe with a playing at hate ! 
 Follow up ! &c. 
 
 Forty years on, growing older and older, 
 
 Shorter in wind, as in memory long, 
 Feeble of foot, and rheumatic of shoulder, 
 
 What will it help you that once you were strong ? 
 God give us bases to guard or beleaguer, 
 
 Games to play out, whether earnest or fun ; 
 Fights for the fearless, and goals for the eager, 
 
 Twenty, and thirty, and forty years on ! 
 Follow up ! &c. 
 
 II 
 LYON OF PBESTON 
 
 LYON, of Preston, yeoman, John, 
 
 Many a year ago, 
 Built on the hill that I live on, 
 
 A school that you all may know ; 
 Into the form, first day, 'tis said, 
 
 Two boys came for to see ; 
 One with a red ribbon, red, red, red, 
 
 And one with a blue, like me ! 
 
 Lyon, of Preston, yeoman. John, 
 
 Lessons he bade them do ; 
 Homer, and multiplica-ti-on, 
 
 And spelling, and Cicero ;
 
 378 EDWAKD BOWEN 
 
 Red Ribbon never his letters knew, 
 
 Stuck at the five times three ; 
 But Blue Ribbon learnt the table through, 
 
 And said it all off, like me ! 
 
 Lyon, of Preston, yeoman, John, 
 
 Said to them both, ' Go play ' 
 Up slunk Red Ribbon all alone, 
 
 Limped from the field away ; 
 Blue Ribbon played like a hero's son, 
 
 All by himself played he, 
 Five ' runs up ' did he quickly run, 
 
 And Bases got five, like me ! 
 
 Lyon, of Preston, yeoman, John, 
 
 All in his anger sore, 
 Flogged the boy with the Red ribbon, 
 
 Set him the Georgics four ; 
 But the boy with the Blue ribbon got, each week, 
 
 Holidays two and three, 
 And a prize for sums, and a prize for Greek, 
 
 And an alphabet prize, like me ! 
 
 Lyon, of Preston, yeoman, John, 
 
 Died many years ago ; 
 All that is mortal of him is gone, 
 
 But he lives in a school I know ! 
 All of them work at their football there, 
 
 And work at their five-times-three ; 
 And all of them, ever since that day, wear 
 
 A ribbon of blue, like me ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 EALEIGH 
 
 WHEN Raleigh rose to fight the foes, 
 
 We sprang to work and will ; 
 When Glory gave to Drake the wave, 
 
 She gave to us the Hill. 
 The ages drift in rolling tide, 
 
 But high shall float the morn 
 Adown the stream of England's pride, 
 When Drake and we were born ! 
 For we began when he began, 
 
 Our times are one ; 
 His glory thus shall circle us 
 Till time be done.
 
 SONGS 379 
 
 The Avon bears to endless years 
 
 A magic voice along, 
 Where Shakespeare strayed in Stratford's shade, 
 
 And waked the world to song. 
 We heard the music soft and wild, 
 
 We thrilled to pulses new ; 
 The winds that reared the Avon's child 
 
 Were Herga's nurses too. 
 For we began, &c. 
 
 Guard, guard it well, where Sidney fell, 
 
 The poet-soldier's grave ; 
 Thy life shall roll, O royal soul, 
 
 In other hearts as brave. 
 While Thought to wisdom wins the gay, 
 
 While Strength upholds the free, 
 Are we the sons of yesterday, 
 
 Or heirs of thine and thee ? 
 For we began, &c. 
 
 IV 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH sat one day, 
 
 Watching her mariners rich and gay, 
 And there were the Tilbury guns at play, 
 
 And there was the bold sea rover ; 
 Up comes Lyon, so brisk and free, 
 Makes his bow, and he says, says he, 
 ' Gracious Queen of the land and sea, 
 
 From Tilbury fort to Dover ' 
 Queen Elizabeth, &c. 
 
 ' Marry, come up,' says good Queen Bess, 
 ' Draw it shorter and prose it less ; 
 Speeches are things we chiefly bless 
 
 When once we have got them over ; 
 Spenser carries you well along, 
 And the Swan of Avon is rich in song 
 Still, we have sometimes found them long, 
 
 I and the bold sea rover ! ' 
 Queen Elizabeth, &c. 
 
 ' Queen,' he says, ' I have got in store, 
 A beautiful school from roof to door ; 
 And I have a farm of acres four, 
 And a meadow of grass and clover :
 
 380 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 So may it please you, good Queen B., 
 Give ine a charter, firm and free ; 
 For there is Harrow, and this is me, 
 And that is the bold sea rover ! ' 
 Queen Elizabeth, &c. 
 
 ' Bad little boys,' says she, ' at school 
 Want a teacher to rede and rule ; 
 Train a dunce, and you find a fool ; 
 
 Cattle must have their drover : 
 By my halidome, I propose 
 You be teacher of verse and prose 
 (What's a halidome, no one knows, 
 
 Even the bold sea rover !) ' 
 Queen Elizabeth. &o. 
 
 ' And this is my charter, firm and free, 
 This is my royal, great decree 
 Hits to tJie rail shall count for three, 
 
 And six. when fairly over : 
 And if any one conies and makes a fuss, 
 Send the radical off to us, 
 And I will tell him I choose it thus, 
 
 And so will the bold sea rover 1 ' 
 Queen Elizabeth, &c. 
 
 V 
 ST. JOLBS 
 
 WHEN tune was young and the school was new 
 (King James had painted it bright and blue), 
 In sport or study, in grief or joy, 
 St. Joles was the friend of the lazy boy. 
 He helped when the lesson at noon was said, 
 He helped when the Bishop was fast in bed ; 
 For the Bishop of course was master then, 
 And bishops get up at the stroke of ten. 
 
 St. Joles hooray, and St. Joles hooroo, 
 Mark my word if it don't come true ; 
 In sport or study, in grief or joy, 
 St. Joles is the friend of the lazy boy. 
 
 If an a was possibly short or long, 
 
 St. Joles would whisper it right (or wrong) ; 
 
 If ever an e provoked a doubt, 
 
 St. Joles' Lexicon helped it out ;
 
 SONGS 381 
 
 Perhaps it wasn't in page and print, 
 But it hinted a probable friendly hint ; 
 And often indeed, if I must confess, 
 It was like to a sort of a kind of guess. 
 St. Joles hooray, &c. 
 
 No laws of scholarship, harsh and quaint, 
 Could ever perplex the useful Saint ; 
 No trouble of mood or gender come, 
 But he settled the rule by the rule of thumb ; 
 You could toss a penny, and surely know 
 The way the genitive case would go ; 
 For at tails and heads he was clear and true, 
 And it always turned up one of the two 1 
 St. Joles hooray, &c. 
 
 But there came a morning of fear and dread, 
 "When the Bishop was up, and the Saint in bed ; 
 And all the boys, from bottom to top, 
 Instead of bishop, pronounced bishop ! 
 However the guilty class might try, 
 They lengthened o and they shortened i ; 
 And the Bishop with righteous anger flames ; 
 And off he went, and he told King James. 
 St. Joles hooray, &c. 
 
 then King James, in his wrath and ire, 
 Degraded St. Joles to Joles Esquire ; 
 And now, to punish the awful crime, 
 They get up at seven in winter time ; 
 And oft the vowels in prose and song 
 St. Joles' Lexicon tells you wrong ; 
 And if you believe me, down at play, 
 There's always fog on St. Joles' day. 
 St. Joles hooray, &c. 
 
 VI 
 SHE WAS A SHEPHEEDESS 
 
 SHE was a Shepherdess, so fair, 
 
 Many a year ago, 
 With a pail and a stool and tangled hair,. 
 
 Down in the plain below ; 
 And all the scholars would leave their play, 
 On merry King Charles's own birthday, 
 And stand and look as she passed that way, 
 
 And see her a-milking go ;
 
 382 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 But none, she said, 
 
 Will I ever wed, 
 
 But the boy who gets the Gregory prize, 
 And crosses his t's and dots his i's, 
 Down in the plain below. 
 
 Sorely the monitor, great in Greek, 
 
 Many a year ago, 
 And the cricketing captain, slirn and sleek, 
 
 Down in the plain below ; 
 Sorely the Latiner daily tried, 
 With satchel and ciphering books at side, 
 To make her his beautiful blooming bride, 
 
 As he saw her a-milking go ! 
 But none, &c. 
 
 So the Gregory prizeman won the maid, 
 
 Many a year ago, 
 And the bells were rung and the service said, 
 
 Down in the plain below ; 
 And the cows gave double their milk that day, 
 And merry King Charles came down to stay, 
 And the fags had a general hip hooray, 
 
 As they saw her a-milking go. 
 But none, &c. 
 
 And if this ditty of love be true, 
 
 Many a year ago 
 (And you'll please forgive our singing it you), 
 
 Down in the plain below ; 
 O was there ever so sweet a pair, 
 As both of them went a-milking there, 
 With a pail and a stool and tangled hair, 
 
 A-milking for to go ? 
 But none, &c. 
 
 VII 
 
 GRANDPAPA'S GRANDPAPA 
 
 Do you know, grandpapa's grandpapa 
 
 Had of study so unquenchable a thirst, 
 That he went off to Harrow, fa la la 1 
 
 And was placed in Lower Lower First. 
 How the buttons on his blue frock shone ! 
 
 How he carolled and he sang, like a bird ! 
 And Bx)dney, the sailor boy, was one, 
 
 And Bruce, who travelled far, was the third. 
 For you know, &c.
 
 SONGS 383 
 
 Then to Bruce grandpapa's grandpapa 
 
 Said, ' Bruce ' (who travelled far), ' come along, 
 We are ten summers old, fa la la ! 
 
 So to hoops, and to merriment, and song ! ' 
 ' Oh no ! though I mourn,' he said, ' in truth, 
 
 G.'s G., merry rollicking to mar, 
 What's hoops, and effusiveness of youth, 
 
 To a lad who has got to travel far ? ' 
 For you know, &c. 
 
 Then to Rodney grandpapa's grandpapa 
 
 Said, ' Rodney, sailor boy, up away ! 
 And with marbles, and with tops, fa la la ! 
 
 'Mid the merry folks from town, pass the day.* 
 But Rodney, sailor boy, ' No,' said he, 
 
 ' Brace tackles, and avast, and alas ! 
 No marbles and jollity for me ; 
 
 I have got to beat the French and De Grasse I ' 
 For you know, &c. 
 
 Then, then, grandpapa's grandpapa 
 
 Went revelling away, in and out, 
 'Mid the merry folks from town, fa la la ! 
 
 While the marbles and the tops flew about. 
 And of all the merry folks, fa la la ! 
 
 In buttons and in blue frocks drest, 
 Why be sure, grandpapa's grandpapa 
 
 Was the topmost and merriest and best ! 
 For you know, &c. 
 
 VIII 
 'BYRON LAY' 
 
 BYRON lay, lazily lay, 
 Hid from lesson and game away, 
 Dreaming poetry, all alone, 
 Up-a-top of the Peachey stone. 
 All in a fury enters Drury, 
 
 Sets him grammar and Virgil due ; 
 Poets shouldn't have, shouldn't have, shouldn't have, 
 Poets shouldn't have work to do. 
 
 Peel stood, steadily stood, 
 
 Just by the name in the carven wood, 
 
 Reading rapidly, all at ease, 
 
 Pages out of Demosthenes.
 
 384 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 ' Where has he got to ? Tell him not to ! ' 
 All the scholars who hear him, cry, 
 
 ' That's the lesson for, lesson for, lesson for. 
 That's the lesson for next July ! ' 
 
 Peel could never, you needs must own, 
 Rhyme one rhyme on the Peachey stone ; 
 Byron never his task have said, 
 Under the panel where PEEL is read. 
 ' Even a goose's brain has uses' 
 
 Cricketing comrades argued thus 
 ' "Will they ever be, ever be, ever be, 
 "Will they ever be boys like us ? ' 
 
 Byron lay, solemnly lay, 
 Dying for freedom, far away : 
 Peel stood up on the famous floor, 
 Ruled the people, and fed the poor ; 
 None so narrow the range of Harrow ; 
 
 Welcome poet and statesman too ; 
 
 Doer and dreamer, dreamer, dreamer, 
 
 Doer and dreamer, dream and do ! 
 
 IX 
 
 GIANTS 
 
 THERE were wonderful giants of old, you know, 
 
 There were wonderful giants of old ; 
 They grew more mightily, all of a row, 
 
 Than ever was heard or told ; 
 All of them stood their six feet four, 
 And they threw to a hundred yards or more, 
 And never were lame, or stiff, or sore ; 
 And we, compared with the days of yore, 
 
 Are cast in a pigmy mould. 
 For all of we, 
 Whoever we be, 
 
 Come short of the giants of old, you see. 
 
 There were splendid cricketers then, you know, 
 There were splendid cricketers then ; 
 
 The littlest drove for a mile or so, 
 And the tallest drove for ten : 
 
 With Lang to bowl and Hankey to play, 
 
 Webbe and Walker to score and stay
 
 SONGS 385 
 
 And two that I know, but may not say, 
 But we are a pitiful race of clay, 
 And never will score again. 
 For all of we, 
 Whoever we be, 
 Conie short of the giants of old, you see. 
 
 There were scholars of marvellous force, you know, 
 
 There were scholars of marvellous force ; 
 They never put p.rj when they should put ov, 
 
 And the circle they squared, of course. 
 With Blayds and Merivale, Hope, Monro, 
 Ridley and Hawkins, years ago, 
 And one that I rather think I know 
 But we are heavy and dull and slow, 
 
 And growing duller and worse ; 
 For all of we, 
 Whoever we be, 
 
 Come short of the giants of old, you see. 
 
 But I think all this is a lie, you know, 
 
 I think all this is a lie ; 
 For the hero-race may come and go, 
 
 But it doesn't exactly die I 
 For the match we lose and win it again, 
 And a Balliol comes to us now and then, 
 And if we are dwarfing in bat and pen, 
 Down to the last of the Harrow men, 
 
 We will know the reason why 1 
 For all of we, 
 Whoever we be, 
 
 Come up to the giants of old, you see. 
 
 OCTOBER 
 
 THE months are met, with their crownlets on, 
 
 As Julius Caesar crowned them ; 
 With slaves, the gentlemen thirty-one, 
 
 And the ladies thirty, round them. 
 But who shall be monarch of all, you ask ; 
 
 Go ask of the boys and maidens, 
 For that is the lads' and the lasses' task, 
 And they choose him afar in cadence. 
 October ! October ! 
 March to the dull and sober 1 
 The suns of May for the schoolgirls' play, 
 But give to the boys October ! 
 
 C
 
 386 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 ' I vote for March, may it please you,' cries 
 
 A student pale and meagre ; 
 ' He gives us theme and lesson and prize, 
 
 And scholarship, so eager ! ' 
 But louder now in the distance floats 
 
 A choice there is no disguising ; 
 And you hear from two and twenty throats 
 
 The chaunt of the boys uprising. 
 October ! &c. 
 
 1 For May ! For May ! ' the girls all say, 
 
 ' How mild the air that blows is ! 
 How nicely sweet the soft spring day, 
 
 How sweetly nice the roses ! ' 
 BiTt girl and scholar may pray and plead 
 
 The voice of the lads is clearer, 
 And forty and four are the feet that tread, 
 
 In time to the music, nearer ! 
 October 1 &c. 
 
 ' October brings the cold weather down, 
 
 When the wind and the rain continue ; 
 He nerves the limbs that are lazy grown, 
 
 And braces the languid sinew ; 
 So while we have voices and lungs to cheer, 
 
 And the winter frost before us, 
 Come sing to the king of the mortal year, 
 And thunder him out in chorus ! ' 
 October ! October ! 
 March to the dull and sober 1 
 The suns of May for the schoolgirls' play, 
 But give to the boys October ! 
 
 XI 
 EUCLID 
 
 O HAVE you, with Euclid before you, 
 
 Full often despairingly sat, 
 The Fifth Proposition to floor you, 
 
 Your mind getting blank as your hat ? 
 To the little black demon you owe it, 
 
 The corner at C is his den ; 
 He waits till you fancy you know it, 
 Then makes you forget it again. 
 
 For he sits, a sight for to dream on, 
 
 In his black boots, tall and thin ; 
 And some people call him a demon, 
 And others a hobgoblin.
 
 SONGS 387 
 
 O worse than the rock to the seaman, 
 
 worse than the blight to the tree, 
 Is the face of the little black demon, 
 
 Who lives in the corner at C. 
 He hops and he jumps without reason 
 
 All over and under and through, 
 And grins as he teaches his treason 
 
 To logic, and Euclid, and you. 
 For he sits, &c. 
 
 How sides, by a curious juggle, 
 
 Together are less than the base ; 
 How parallel lines, with a struggle, 
 
 Succeed in enclosing a space ; 
 Then mixing up angle and angle, 
 
 Puts lines where no line ought to be, 
 And leaving your mind in a tangle, 
 
 Goes back to his corner at C. 
 For he sits, &c. 
 
 But I up and I went and I took him, 
 
 All capering under and o'er, 
 And didn't he cry as I shook him, 
 
 And didn't I shake him the more, 
 And taught him respect for his betters, 
 
 And thumped on his black little head, 
 And squeezed him the shape of all letters 
 
 And finally left him at Z ! 
 For he sits, &c. 
 
 And often as, nightly or daily, 
 
 He dares to annoy you the least, 
 You have only to rush at him gaily, 
 
 Away goes the black little beast ; 
 And all the bad creatures forsaken, 
 
 That live on the page or the pen, 
 Can't bear to be worried and shaken, 
 
 And run away home to their den. 
 For he sits, &c. 
 
 XII 
 THE VOICE OF THE BELL 
 
 EVERY day, in the early misty morning, 
 
 Hark how the bell is ringing, ding-a-ding, ding : 
 
 First for a waking, second for a warning, 
 
 Hark how the bell is ringing, ding-a-ding, ding : 
 
 c c 2
 
 388 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 Oh, what a tongue to terrify the lazy, 
 Never a respite, never stops or stays he, 
 On till the ears of the listeners are crazy, 
 Ding, ding-a-ding ! 
 
 Down at the game, a wearying and bruising, 
 
 Hark how the bell is ringing, ding-a-ding, ding : 
 Conies now a truce to winning and to losing, 
 
 Hark how the bell is ringing, ding-a-ding, ding. 
 Then, though the hill be muddy and begriming, 
 Victory yet can make it easy climbing : 
 Bless the bell, for the triumph it is chiming ! 
 Ding, ding-a-ding. 
 
 Half-past five, in the gloomy winter weather, 
 
 Hark how the bell is ringing, ding-a-ding, ding ; 
 Now to the fireside gather you together, 
 
 Hark how the bell is ringing, ding-a-ding, ding ; 
 Safe from the thought of boy or book or master, 
 Fourth school's bliss or possible disaster 
 Wish that the weeks might fly a little faster, 
 Ding, ding-a-ding. 
 
 Long long life to the bell and to its ringing ! 
 
 Hark how the bell is ringing, ding-a-ding, ding : 
 Three hundred years with an ever fresh beginning ! 
 
 Hark how the bell is ringing, ding-a-ding, ding ; 
 Long while it chimes to a newer life and sweeter, 
 Work's true sons shall welcome her and greet her, 
 Stronger than we, and better, and completer, 
 Ding, ding, ding. 
 
 XIII 
 UNDERNEATH THE BBJNY SEA 
 
 UNDERNEATH the briny sea, 
 Where be the fishes and the mermaids three, 
 There lies Harrow as it ought for to be ! 
 Big fish and little there, each shiny day, 
 Climb up to construe, plunge down to play ; 
 Get wise speedily, up upon the hill, 
 Coming up to all schools just when they will ; 
 Play well easily, weed and sand among, 
 Never lose a match there, all the summer long ; 
 Never take to bad ways, bully, steal, or lie, 
 Fishes all are born good, naturally !
 
 SONGS 389 
 
 Underneath the briny sea, 
 
 Where be the fishes and the mermaids three, 
 
 There lies Harrow as it ought for to be ! 
 
 Bills when the fishes like, lock-up as they wish, 
 Bolts and bars confine not independent fish ; 
 Fruit sells for nothing there, if you like to buy. 
 Ices all the year long tumble from the sky ! 
 No trouble anywhere, labour none at all, 
 Twenty scores of fags come rushing when you call ; 
 Twenty scores of fags come, never miss it why '? 
 Fagging does itself all by machinery ! 
 
 Underneath the briny sea, 
 
 Where be the fishes and the mermaids thre-- , 
 
 There lies Harrow as it ought for to be ! 
 
 Oh, what a life there, down below the wave, 
 All among the sand heaps, merry fishes have ! 
 Lessons get the full mark, whether bad or good, 
 Fishes never guess wrong couldn't if they would ; 
 Greek turns to English by the rule of thumb ; 
 Sums have the answer written on the sum ; 
 Repetition learns itself, never need to try 
 Everyone has prizes, generally. 
 
 Underneath the briny sea, 
 
 Where be the fishes and the mermaids three, 
 
 There lies Harrow as it ought for to be ! 
 
 Which is the better, man, or boy, or fish, 
 
 To live life lazily, swimming as you wish, 
 
 Lolling dull heads about, twirling weary thumbs, 
 
 Or to take sweet and bitter as sweet and bitter conies ? 
 
 Wealth without toil is a sorry sort of lot ; 
 
 Learning unworked for is just as well forgot ; 
 
 Good beats bad, when the fight is only free, 
 
 Both up at Harrow here, and under the sea. 
 
 Underneath the briny sea, 
 
 Where be the fishes and the mermaids three, 
 
 There lies Harrow as it ought for to be 1 
 
 XIV 
 SOBER DICK 
 
 WHAT sober Dicky sees, 
 
 When all aglow 
 Fire lights the winter nights, 
 
 Boys only know.
 
 390 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 Out, gas no soul it has 
 
 Out lamp and wick ; 
 In the embers, ruddily gilt, 
 Wonderful things are often built ; 
 Sober Dicky can see them all, sober Dick ! 
 
 There lies a field of grass, 
 
 Ropes all around ; 
 Who's that has got the bat, 
 
 Hits off the ground ? 
 Who plays amid the blaze, 
 
 All ruby-thick ? 
 
 Coals applaud with a coaly cry, 
 Sparks in yellow and amber fly ; 
 Sober Dicky it surely is, sober Dick ! 
 
 See, in the stately light 
 Glows yonder Hall ; 
 Folks sent to Parliament, 
 
 Pitt, Fox, and all. 
 One big amazing wig 
 
 Flares hot and quick ; 
 Mr. Speaker is made of coal, 
 Yet you will think it wondrous droll, 
 Like to sober Dicky he is, sober Dick ! 
 
 Where, chin on hand, he looks 
 
 Eight through the bars, 
 Yon grate is full of fate, 
 
 Cups, prizes, stars 
 Gold tips generalships 
 
 Straight throw and kick 
 Lucky Latin and easy Greek, 
 Holidays every mortal week, 
 Sober Dicky has seen them all, sober Dick ! 
 
 When coals are dark and dead, 
 
 All burnt to dust, 
 Sink, light, and turn to night 
 
 So Fancy must 1 
 Warm flame, vision of Fame, 
 
 Fades passing quick ; 
 Was the coal a teller of truth ? 
 Does imagining poison youth ? 
 Sober Dicky is dreaming now, O sober Dick 1
 
 SONGS 391 
 
 XV 
 WILLOW THE KING. 
 
 WILLOW the King is a monarch grand, 
 
 Three in a row his courtiers stand ; 
 
 Every day when the sun shines bright, 
 
 The doors of his palace are painted white, 
 
 And all the company bow their backs 
 
 To the King with his collar of cobbler's wax. 
 
 So ho ! so ho ! may the courtiers sing, 
 Honour and life to Willow the King ! 
 
 Willow, King Willow, thy guard hold tight ; 
 Trouble is coming before the night ; 
 Hopping and galloping, short and strong, 
 Comes the Leathery Duke along ; 
 And down the palaces tumble fast 
 When once the Leathery Duke gets past. 
 So ho ! &c. 
 
 ' Who is this,' King Willow he swore, 
 ' Hops like that to a gentleman's door ? 
 Who's afraid of a Duke like him ? 
 Fiddlededee I ' says the monarch slim : 
 ' What do you say, my courtiers three ? ' 
 And the courtiers all said, ' Fiddlededee ! ' 
 So ho! &c. 
 
 Willow the King stepped forward bold 
 Three good feet from his castle hold ; 
 Willow the King stepped back so light, 
 Skirmished gay to the left and right ; 
 But the Duke rushed by with a leap and a fling 
 ' Bless my soul ! ' says Willow the King. 
 So ho! &c. 
 
 Crash the palaces, sad to see ; 
 Crash and tumble the courtiers three 1 
 Each one lays, in his fear and dread, 
 Down on the grass his respected head ; 
 Each one kicks, as he downward goes, 
 Up in the air his respected toes. 
 So ho! &c. 
 
 But the Leathery Duke he jumped so high, 
 Jumped till he almost touched the sky ;
 
 392 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 ' A fig for King Willow,' he boasting said, 
 ' Carry this gentleman off to bed ! ' 
 So they carried him off with the courtiers three, 
 And put him to bed in the green-baize tree. 
 So ho ! &c. 
 
 ' What of the Duke ? ' you ask anon, 
 
 ' Where has his Leathery Highness gone ? ' 
 
 O he is filled with air inside 
 
 Either it's air, or else its pride 
 
 And he swells and swells as tight as a dram, 
 
 And they kick him about till Christmas come. 
 
 So ho ! ho 1 ho 1 may his courtiers sing, 
 Honour and life to W T illow the King ! 
 
 XVI 
 
 JUNE AND THE SCHOLAR 
 
 THE SCHOLAK 
 
 WHAT a tune, 
 Kind June, 
 
 You are singing all the noon, 
 
 Where the grove makes merry with the breeze, with the breeze, 
 Low and merry, all the song 
 That the wind bears along, 
 O June, be a sister, and stay among the trees ! 
 
 JUNB 
 
 Never fear, 
 Scholar dear, 
 
 In the morning of the year, 
 
 Was not all the sunny beauty made for you, made for you ? 
 Take the bright shiny day, 
 Take the pleasure and the play, 
 The shade and the twilight, the dawning and the dew. 
 
 THE SCHOLAR 
 
 Do not fly, 
 Sweet sky, 
 
 Though the blaze of morning die, 
 Stay and linger in the flushing of the west, of the west 
 If you go, they will fade, 
 Soft meadow, sunny glade, 
 The glow into dullness, the music into rest.
 
 SONGS 393 
 
 JUNE 
 
 When the rose 
 Full blows, 
 
 When the surly winter goes, 
 
 I will come with the swallows and the sun, and the sun, 
 And the grass shall be bright 
 In the glad June light ; 
 Far and away, till the world is dead and gone. 
 
 XVII 
 CATS AND DOGS 
 
 (He hath got a quiet catch. Taming of the Shrew, II. i.) 
 
 FOR cats and dogs the custom is to wrangle as they play, 
 But youths intent on games should be more sensible than they ! 
 A low dispute in scenes polite would not be thought the thing, 
 Where bright in light, with dance and feast and bowl, dwell Court and 
 King. 
 
 When in the yard at exercise you choose to take a part, 
 Converse with friends, whene'er you will, upon the batsman's art; 
 And if about a catch you hold an independent view, 
 Reflect it may perhaps be false, and shout not out it's true. 
 
 Football, methinks, if played at all, should go with voice demure ; 
 Of lines of sight the human eye can hardly e'er be sure ; 
 But cries proclaiming eagerly where balls have passed in air 
 Would shame a wolf, and in the dust abase a polar bear. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 FAIRIES 
 
 WHEN in the morning cold and bleak, 
 
 In spite of wind and weather, 
 The wise and foolish, strong and weak, 
 
 Throng up to School together, 
 From off the plain, from round the hill, 
 
 The fairy thoughts arisen 
 Begin the day of work and play 
 
 With hope, and whim, and vision : 
 Awake the old, suggest the new, 
 
 Heart after heart rejoices 
 Ho ho 1 ha ha ! Tra la la la ! 
 
 So sound the fairy voices.
 
 394 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 From all the lowland western lea, 
 
 The Uxbridge flats and meadows, 
 From where the Euislip waters see 
 
 The Oxhey lights and shadows ; 
 They tell of rambles near and far, 
 
 By hedge, and brook, and border ; 
 Of random freak and frolic war, 
 
 And Freedom born of Order ; 
 Of Friendship, knit with wealth of wit, 
 
 And wisdom linked about it 
 Ho ho ! ha ha ! Tra la la la ! 
 
 Or quite as close without it ! 
 
 From Wembley rise and Kenton stream ; 
 
 From Preston farm and hollow, 
 Where Lyon dreamed, and saw in dream 
 
 His race of sons to follow ; 
 They point to Labour's leaden feet, 
 
 To Glory's glow and glitter ; 
 To sweets of Learning, partly sweet, 
 
 And even partly bitter ; 
 They chant in time a stately rhyme, 
 
 The sober songs of matin 
 Ho ho ! ha ha 1 Tra la la la ! 
 
 And quaver into Latin ! 
 
 And as from north and east amain 
 
 They throng, the fairy people, 
 The echoes range across the plain, 
 
 And gather round the steeple ; 
 Through football acres, grass and clay, 
 
 The mighty murmurs quicken ; 
 From goal to goal they swifter roll, 
 
 And swell, and throb, and thicken ; 
 Like beat of drums the music comes, 
 
 While viewless voices mingle 
 Ho ho ! ha ha 1 Tra la la la ! 
 And set the veins a-tingle. 
 
 O'er twenty leagues of morning dew 
 
 Across the cheery breezes, 
 Can fairies fail to whisper true 
 
 What youth and fancy pleases ? 
 As strength decays with after days, 
 
 And eyes have ceased to glisten, 
 Those souls alone not older grown 
 
 Will have the ears to listen.
 
 SONGS 395 
 
 Keep youth a guest of heart and breast, 
 
 And, though the hair be whiter, 
 Ho ho ! ha ha ! Tra la la la ! 
 
 You hear them all the brighter ! 
 
 XIX 
 
 JACK AND JOE 
 
 JACK'S a scholar, as all men say, 
 
 Dreams in Latin and Greek, 
 Gobbles a grammar in half a day, 
 
 And a lexicon once a week ; 
 Three examiners came to Jack, 
 
 ' Tell to us all you know ; ' 
 But when he began, ' To Oxford back,' 
 
 They murmured, ' we will go.' 
 
 But Joe is a regular fool, says Jack, 
 And Jack is a fool, says Joe. 
 
 Joe's a player, and no mistake, 
 
 Comes to it born and bred, 
 Dines in pads for the practice' sake, 
 
 Goes with a bat to bed. 
 Came the bowler and asked him, ' Pray, 
 
 Shall I bowl you fast or slow ? ' 
 But the bowler's every hair was gray 
 
 Before he had done with Joe. 
 But Joe is a regular fool, &c. 
 
 Morning wakes with a rousing spell, 
 
 Bees and honey and hive, 
 Drones get up at the warning bell, 
 
 But Jack was at work at five. 
 Sinks the day on the weary hill, 
 
 Cricketers homeward flow ; 
 All climb up in the twilight chill, 
 
 But the last to leave is Joe. 
 But Joe is a regular fool, &c. 
 
 ' Fame,' says Jack, ' with the mind must go, 
 
 Says Joe, ' With the legs and back ; ' 
 ' What is the use of your arms ? ' says Joe, 
 
 ' Where are your brains ? ' says Jack. 
 Says Joe, ' Your Latin I truly hate,' 
 
 Says Jack, ' I adore it so,' 
 ' But your bats,' says Jack, ' I nowhere rate,' 
 
 ' My darlings,' answers Joe. 
 But Joe is a regular fool, &c.
 
 396 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Can't you settle it, Joe and Jack, 
 
 Settle it, books and play ? 
 Dunce is white and pedant is black, 
 
 Haven't you room for gray ? 
 Let neither grammar nor bats be slack, 
 
 Let brains with sinews grow, 
 And you'll be Reverend Doctor Jack, 
 
 And j'ou'll be General Joe ! 
 But Joe is a regular fool, &c. 
 
 XX 
 WIMBLEDON, 1879 
 
 WAKE, Harrow boys, together, 
 
 Wake, townsmen, up ! 
 Here's the Shield, marching hither, 
 
 Likewise the Cup. 
 Drums, beat to rouse the people, 
 
 Fifes, tootle too ! 
 Back home to Harrow steeple 
 
 Welcome to you ! 
 
 Wake, Harrow boys, &c. 
 
 First day of summer weather, 
 
 First ray of sun ; 
 Twelve schools are in together, 
 
 Odds, twelve to one. 
 Twelve schools are off together, 
 
 Gone home to sup ; 
 Left the Shield, marching hither, 
 
 Likewise the Cup ! 
 
 Wake, Harrow boys, &c. 
 
 In came the Duke all read"y, 
 
 Plume, sash, and spurs ; 
 1 Who's that a winning,' said he, 
 
 1 Over the furze ? 
 ' Why, bless my hat and feather, 
 
 What can be up ? 
 There's the Shield, marching thither, 
 
 Likewise the Cup ! ' 
 
 Wake, Harrow boys, &c. 
 
 Bismarck and Cetewayo, 
 
 Pale down to boots, 
 Ejaculate ' O my 0, 
 
 How Harrow shoots !
 
 SONGS 397 
 
 Once give them grass and heather, 
 
 Once rifles up 
 Straight the Shield marches hither, 
 
 Likewise the Cup ! 
 
 Wake, Harrow boys, &c. 
 
 XXI 
 LABKY 
 
 WHO is Larry, and what is his sin ? 
 
 What has he done to be so discredited ? 
 String, and leather, and air within, 
 
 Never an ounce of brains inherited ; 
 Up and volley him into the sky ; 
 Down he will tumble by-and-by ; 
 
 Flout and flurry him, kick and worry him, 
 Doesn't he like a journey high ! 
 
 Tie up his throat, or he feels the air ; 
 
 Very unwise, to lounge and tarry is ; 
 Give him a kick, and it sets him square, 
 
 Kicks are physic for such as Larry is ; 
 Over the grassy marsh and mud. 
 Like a bubble of soap and sud, 
 
 Flout and flurry him, kick and worry him, 
 Till he is down with a thump and thud ! 
 
 Little he knows, and nought he cares, 
 Whether you kick with grace and suavity ; 
 
 Down he will come without the stairs, 
 All along of the force of gravity ; 
 
 Larry is fat, and needs to go ; 
 
 Larry is dull and plump and slow ; 
 Flout and flurry him, kick and worry him, 
 
 Wake him a bit with a touch of toe ! 
 
 That is his path, where the swallows roam, 
 That is a road that needs no gravelling ; 
 
 Life is dull, if you bide at home ; 
 Larry is made of stuff for travelling ! 
 
 Now you may lift him once again, 
 
 Give him a view of park and plain ; 
 Flout and flurry him, kick and worry him, 
 
 That is the way to induce a brain
 
 398 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 XXII 
 EOOKS 
 
 HIGH on a tree, 
 
 Like a Pope to see, 
 A blackamoor rook (and as grave as he) 
 
 Laid down the law, 
 
 With ponderous caw, 
 With a tweak of head and a twist of jaw, 
 
 ' Follow the rest 
 
 Out of the nest, 
 Perch on the steeple, omd peck with the best ! 
 
 ' Try your wing, 
 
 Now in the spring, 
 Hop and flutter and fight and sing ; 
 
 Bookings' joys 
 
 Are worry and noise, 
 Soon in the air you will gladly poise, 
 
 And follow the rest, &c. 
 
 ' Branches yield 
 
 Shelter and shield, 
 But the best of the fun is far afield ; 
 
 Those who know 
 
 Where a flight can go, 
 Bob the wheat that the farmers sow. 
 
 Follow the rest, &c. 
 
 ' Starlings preach, 
 
 With twitter of speech, 
 How many yards a gun can reach ; 
 
 Fly amain 
 
 Over the plain ! 
 Chance the gun, if you get the grain 1 
 
 Follow the rest, &c. 
 
 ' Up with the head ! 
 
 Fondled, fed, 
 Here you may rest awhile in bed ; 
 
 Wait for the tune 
 When your wings shall climb 
 Over the sky in the morning's prime ! 
 
 Follow the rest 
 
 Out of the nest, 
 Perch on the steeple, and peck with the best /'
 
 SONGS 399 
 
 XXIII 
 DOWN THE HILL 
 
 JOG, jog, tramp, tramp, down the hill we run, 
 When the summer games come with the summer sun ; 
 On the grass dreaming a lazy grassy dream, 
 List to the merry click, willow tapping seam ; 
 Balls ring, throats sing, to a gallant tune, 
 Cheerily, cheerily, goes the afternoon. 
 
 Down the hill, down the hill, after dinner drop, 
 
 Sulky boys, sulky boys, stay upon the top ! 
 
 Jog, jog, tramp, tramp, down the hill we scud, 
 In the dull December, plashing in the mud ; 
 Legs, as then* manner is, turn to black and blue ; 
 Mud spatters head to foot well, and if it do ? 
 Legs yet will carry us through another day ; 
 Mud is only water modifying clay. 
 
 Down the hill, down the hill, after dinner drop, 
 
 Sulky boys, sulky boys, stay upon the top ! 
 
 Jog, jog, tramp, tramp, down the hill at last. 
 When the Tuesday morning tells of labour past ; 
 Now, just a week or two, put the books to bed, 
 Horse, dog, gun and rod, you come out instead ; 
 Who wouldn't, now and then, amiably thus 
 Gratify the home folks with a sight of us ? 
 
 Down the hill, down the hill, after dinner drop, 
 
 Sulky boys, sulky boys, stay upon the top 1 
 
 XXIV 
 AWAKE ! 
 
 THE wind blew o'er the plain, and cried, 
 
 Awake, boys, awake ! 
 The best of the day is the morning tide, 
 
 Awake, boys, awake ! 
 
 With a plunge and a rush to the air, the air, 
 And safe in the school, with a chime to spare, 
 And who, if it freeze with winter breeze, 
 Is half a coward enough to care ?
 
 400 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Or grieve if he, in his ardour bold, 
 Or even his master, catches cold ? 
 
 So awake, boys, awake ! 
 
 The joys of the morning take ! 
 They sleep in the city, and more's the pity, 
 
 But you on the hills, awake 1 
 
 The spring carne whispering, clear and low, 
 
 Awake, boys, awake I 
 The birds were building an hour ago, 
 
 Awake, boys, awake ! 
 The lark is lost in the blue, the blue, 
 The cricketing fields are drenched in dew ; 
 The delicate things on feet and wings 
 Are busily finding work to do ; 
 
 And every animal, great or less, 
 
 Has dressed as much as it means to dress 1 
 
 So awake, &c. 
 
 Work, with her sister, Play, came by 
 
 Awake, boys, awake ! 
 Plenty to learn from both, they cry, 
 
 Awake, boys, awake ! 
 
 There's pleasure in toil no doubt, no doubt ; 
 There's also pleasure, perhaps, without ; 
 There's books that pray to be read to-day, 
 There's balls that long to be kicked about ; 
 But none who roost on the Drowsy tree 
 Can ever be friends with me, or me ! 
 
 So awake, &c. 
 
 XXV 
 
 GOOD NIGHT 
 
 GOOD NIGHT ! Ten o'clock is nearing ; 
 
 Lights from Hampstead, many, fewer, more, 
 Fainter, fuller, vanishing, appearing, 
 Flash and float a friendly greeting o'er ; 
 Head them, read them, 
 
 Ere the slumber come ; 
 Goodwill speed them 
 
 Here across the gloom ; 
 All good comes to those who read aright ; 
 See they are twinkling, Good night I
 
 SONGS 401 
 
 Good night ! How they dart anigh thee 
 
 Bright glad rays for repetition known ; 
 If the task be crabbed and defy thee, 
 How they blink a sympathetic groan ! 
 Wit acuter 
 
 Guesses free and fast 
 Tyrant tutor 
 
 Placable at last 
 
 Such the blessings sparkle to the sight ; 
 Take them and answer, Good night ! 
 
 Good night ! What shall follow after ? 
 
 Wish great play, and vigour ever new, 
 Wish for race and merriment and laughter 
 Hampstead lights must surely wish it too ! 
 Luck befriend thee 
 
 From the very toss ; 
 See, they send thee 
 
 Victory across ; 
 
 Speed the ball, and animate the fight : 
 So, till the morning, Good night ! 
 
 Good night ! Sleep, and so may ever 
 
 Lights half seen across a murky lea, 
 Child of hope, and courage, and endeavour, 
 Gleam a voiceless benison on thee ! 
 Youth be bearer 
 
 Soon of hardihood ; 
 Life be fairer, 
 
 Loyaller to good ; 
 
 Till the far lamps vanish into light, 
 Rest in the dream-time. Good night 
 
 XXVI 
 
 SONGS 
 
 How does the song come, 
 
 Whence up-swell, 
 Whence on the tongue come, 
 
 Playmates, tell 1 
 Say, from the waste time 
 
 Chance sounds grow, 
 Throats' idle pastime ? 
 
 No, no, no ! 
 
 D D
 
 402 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 "While 'raid the breezes 
 
 Life breathes free, 
 Ere trouble freezes 
 
 Youth's blue sea, 
 'Mid hopes attendant, 
 
 Play, work, home, 
 Surging, resplendent 
 
 So songs come ! 
 
 Where does the song go, 
 
 While words fly, 
 Somewhere along go, 
 
 Somewhere die ? 
 Say, into far land 
 
 Sound-waves flow, 
 Lost in the star-land ? 
 
 No, no, no ! 
 Songs, where the thought was 
 
 If aught true, 
 If tender aught was, 
 
 There hide too ; 
 Down in the chamber 
 
 Hearts hold deep, 
 Cradled in amber 
 
 So songs sleep ! 
 
 Can yet the song live, 
 
 Once more come, 
 Voiceful and strong live 
 
 Now all dumb ? 
 Say, will it slumber, 
 
 Faint, thin, low, 
 Years not to number ? 
 
 No, no, no ! 
 When droops the boldest, 
 
 When hope flies, 
 When hearts are coldest, 
 
 Dead songs rise ; 
 Young voices sound still, 
 
 Bright thoughts thrive, 
 Friends press around still 
 
 So songs live !
 
 SONGS 403 
 
 XXVII 
 
 THE NINEB 
 
 HE may have been little, or may have been tall, 
 But his tale is so sad, you will weep for it all, 
 And it happened along of a bat and a ball ! 
 
 Boo-hoo ! 
 
 Of Cricketers never a finer, 
 From Nottinghamshire to China, 
 But he never could manage a niner ! 
 
 Boo-hoo 1 Boo-hoo ! Boo-hoo ! 
 
 CHOKUS Of Cricketers never, &c. 
 
 He planted his feet and he lifted his bat 
 And his reach you would wonder excessively at : 
 And the field said, ' For nine he will surely hit tJiat.' 
 
 Boo-hoo ! 
 
 But they ran and they scampered and fielded, 
 And such was the work that their zeal did, 
 That merely an eighter it yielded, 
 
 Boo-hoo! Boo-hoo! Boo-hoo! 
 
 CHORUS Of Cricketers never, &c. 
 
 But he finally struck a majestical blow, 
 And didn't it, didn't it, DIDN'T it go, 
 If not for a mile, for a quarter or so ! 
 
 Boo-hoo ! 
 
 Oh run, I believe you, he then did, 
 With speed and celerity splendid, 
 And stopped with the nine of them ended, 
 
 Boo-hoo ! Boo-hoo ! Boo-hoo ! 
 
 CHORUS Oi Cricketers never, &c. 
 
 And just as the niner was done and entire, 
 
 He threw himself down to rejoice (and perspire), 
 
 ' One short,' said the fair and impartial umpire ! 
 
 Boo-hoo ! 
 
 So he gave up and went and ate ices, 
 Of various colours and sizes, 
 And died of pulmonary phthisis, 
 
 Boo-hoo ! Boo-hoo ! Boo-hoo ! 
 CHORUS Of Cricketers never, &c.
 
 404 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 WHEN suns are hot, and fields are full 
 
 Of shouts and cries that scare you, 
 You lie in corners dark and dull, 
 
 An empty lump of air, you ! 
 You sit and sulk, a frozen hulk, 
 
 With pads and bats above you, 
 Till winter comes again, and then, 
 You ugly dear, I love you ! 
 
 then you dance and prance along, 
 
 A dancer, prancer, jumper, 
 You toss and thump, so plump a lump 
 As who can find a plumper ? 
 
 When boys are dressed in all their best 
 
 For church and school on Sunday, 
 And sober folk can take their rest, 
 
 And sit a bit for one day ; 
 You ne'er appear in gaudy cheer, 
 
 Nor freak nor fancy takes you, 
 But dream and doze in working clothes, 
 
 Till Monday, dear, awakes you ! 
 O then, &. 
 
 At night when we are wondrous wise 
 
 With .iEschylus and Csesar, 
 So weak you are in enterprise, 
 
 You hardly ask what these are ! 
 No whit you care, your skin's so thick, 
 
 For learning, mind, or virtue ; 
 Oh I should dearly like to kick 
 
 But not, my love, to hurt you ! 
 O then, &c. 
 
 XXIX 
 TOM 
 
 Now that the matches are near, 
 Struggle, and terror, and bliss, 
 
 Which is the House of the year ? 
 Who is the hero of this ? 
 Tom!
 
 SONGS 405 
 
 Tom, who with valour and skill, too, 
 
 Spite of the wind and the hill, too, 
 Takes it along sudden and strong, 
 
 Going where Tom has a will to ; 
 And so let us set up a cheer, 0. 
 That Jaffa and Joppa can hear, O, 
 And if a hurrah can waken the Shah, 
 Why, then, let us waken him, singing, Hurrah 
 
 Rules that you make, you obey ; 
 
 Courage to Honour is true ; 
 Who is the fairest in play, 
 Best and good-temperedest, who '? 
 
 Tom! 
 
 Torn, who is sorry and sad, too, 
 When there are bruises to add to ; 
 
 WTiy did he crush Jack with a rush ? 
 Only because that he had to ! 
 And so let us, &c. 
 
 Base is the player who stops 
 
 Fight, till the fighting is o'er ; 
 Who follows up till he drops, 
 Panting and limping and sore ? 
 
 Tom! 
 
 Tom, who with scuffle and sprawl, too, 
 Knows where he carries the ball to ; 
 
 Ankles and toes ! look how he goes ! 
 Through them and out of them all, too ! 
 And so let us, &c. 
 
 Some, who their Houses enthrone, 
 
 Rest, when the victory conies ; 
 Who will go on till his own 
 Boasts an eleven of Toms ? 
 
 Tom! 
 
 Tom, who in cloud and hi clear, too, 
 Goes with the lads he is dear to ; 
 
 Is it a dream ? There is the team ; 
 Tom may be real, and here, too ! 
 And so let us, dec.
 
 406 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 XXX 
 
 A GENTLEMAN'S A-BOWLING 
 i Dedicated to F. S. Jackson, Lord's, 1888] 
 
 CABBY, trot him faster, 
 
 O hurry, engine, on 1 
 Come glory or disaster, 
 
 Before the day be done 1 
 Ten thousand folks are strolling, 
 
 And streaming into view, 
 A gentleman's a-bowling 
 
 (More accurately, two). 
 
 With changes and with chances 
 
 The innings come and go, 
 Alternating advances 
 
 Of ecstasy and woe ; 
 For now 'tis all condoling, 
 
 And now for who can tell ? 
 A gentleman's a-bowling 
 
 It yet may all be well. 
 
 Light Blue are nimbly fielding, 
 
 And scarce a hit can pass ; 
 But those the willows wielding 
 
 Have played on Harrow grass I 
 And there's the ball a-rolling, 
 
 And all the people see 
 A gentleman's a-bowling, 
 
 And we're a-hitting he 1 
 
 Ten score to make, or yield her ! 
 
 Shall Eton save the match ? 
 Bowl, bowler ! go it, fielder 1 
 
 Catch, wicket-keeper, catch ! 
 Our vain attempts controlling 
 
 They drive the leather no ! 
 A gentleman's a-bowling, 
 
 And down the wickets go. 
 
 And now that all is ended, 
 
 Were I the Queen to-day, 
 I'd make a marquis splendid 
 
 Of every one of they I 
 And still for their consoling, 
 
 I'll cheer and cheer again 
 The gentleman a-bowling, 
 
 And all the other ten 1
 
 SONGS 407 
 
 XXXI 
 
 IF TIME is UP 
 
 IF time is up and lesson is due, and youth has got to learn, 
 I creep to School, if needs must be, and masters soft and stern ; 
 And one will give me good marks, and one will give me bad, 
 And one will give me nothing at all for all the pains I had ; 
 But good come, bad come, for what you must you can, 
 And heigh-ho, follow the game, till boy shall grow to man. 
 
 The worse the time the better the end, and under sky and sun 
 
 I go to play the cricketer's part, and turn the bowlers on ; 
 
 And one will bowl me fast balls, and one will bowl me slow, 
 
 And one will bowl me cunning and straight, and then the bails will go ; 
 
 But fast come, slow come, the grass and winds are free, 
 
 And heigh-ho, follow the game, the world is fair for me. 
 
 They glide, the months of worry and work, of desk and floor and grass 
 And till you trust them, fright the soul, and as you trust them, pass ; 
 And one will bring me bright days, and one will bring me dull, 
 And one will bring me trouble enough, till all the days are full ; 
 But bright come, dull come, they came the same before, 
 And heigh-ho, follow the game, and show the way to more. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 MANY YEARS AGO 
 [A Song for Old Harrovians] 
 
 ONE look back ! as we hurry o'er the plain, 
 
 Man's years speeding us along ; 
 One look back ! from the hollow past again 
 
 Youth coming flooding into song. 
 Tell how once in the breath of summer air 
 
 Winds blew fresher than they blow ; 
 Times long hid, with their triumph and their care, 
 
 Yesterday many years ago ! 
 
 How throngs poured from the lesson to the street, 
 
 Straw-topped, busy, rushing by ! 
 Stones rang brisk with the tread of many feet, 
 
 Fields laughed, merry with the cry. 
 Skill, high taught to endeavour and endure, 
 
 Plucked bright honour from the foe ; 
 Blood throbbed warmer, and fellowship was sure, 
 
 Yesterday many years ago !
 
 408 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Fell sage counsel on never-heeding ears ? 
 
 Mixed frail folly with the good ? 
 Not less trust had a medicine for fears, 
 
 Hope built towers as it would. 
 Firelight dreams still summon from afar 
 
 Play's hot battle, ebb and flow ; 
 Hearts made one in the flush of mimic war, 
 
 Yesterday many years ago ! 
 
 All good things of the heaven and the earth, 
 
 Drop soft blessing on the hill ! 
 Crown fair youth with her heritage of mirth, 
 
 Weak souls quicken into will 1 
 Years, bear gaily the trophies you have won, 
 
 Strong life bringing, as you go ; 
 Shine, bright suns, shine happy as you shone 
 
 Yesterday many years ago ! 
 
 LOBD'S, 1873 
 
 TELL them, Harrow has won again ! 
 
 Shout with a heart and will ! 
 Shout till it float across the plain, 
 
 And echo around the hill ! 
 Four sad years of a long defeat 
 
 Over and gone to-day ; 
 Flash the news till the gladness greet 
 
 Continents far away ; 
 Say how, honour and fame at stake, 
 Somebody played for the old School's sake. 
 
 True as the speeding bullets go, 
 
 Quick as the fencer's wrist, 
 Eton played to the fast and slow, 
 
 Be it break, or rise, or twist ; 
 Faint and feeble we hung the head ; 
 
 Hope in the heart sank low ; 
 'Seventy-three, we surely said, 
 
 Will be just like 'seventy-two : 
 Then was the turn of the wizard's wand 
 Somebody, somebody, bowled left-hand ! 
 
 Two of vis all too soon are gone 
 
 Hark to the Eton cheer 1 
 One that we put our hopes upon 
 
 Had chosen to wait a year.
 
 VERSES 409 
 
 Slow we counted them run for run 
 
 How many more to tie ? 
 Loud we boasted the cut for one, 
 
 And treasured the single bye 
 Somebody ! cover or longstop or 
 Somebody's hitting about for four ! 
 
 And somebody bowled them straight and strong, 
 
 And somebody high and true, 
 And somebody threw to an inch along, 
 
 Till somebody's hands were blue ; 
 And when at the last we trembling said, 
 
 ' Can anyone now be found 
 To keep, with valour of hand and head, 
 
 For a hundred runs, his ground ? ' 
 Somebody ah 1 he would, we knew 
 Somebody played it steady through ! 
 
 To the ropes the last hit gaily went, 
 
 As the first to the ropes had gone, 
 And we breathed as divers breathe, all spent, 
 
 Who rise to the air and sun. 
 And ever when Harrow toils in vain, 
 
 And the Harrow hopes are low, 
 May patience come to the rescue then. 
 
 And pluck with the patience go ; 
 And in all, and more than all, our play, 
 Somebody do as he did to-day ! 
 
 LOED'S, 1878 
 
 THERE we sat in the circle vast, 
 
 Hard by the tents, from noon, 
 And looked as the day went slowly past, 
 
 And the runs came, all too soon ; 
 And never, I think, in the years gone by, 
 
 Since cricketer first went in, 
 Did the dying so refuse to die, 
 
 Or the winning so hardly win. 
 
 Ladies clapped, as the fight was fought, 
 
 And the chances went and came ; 
 And talk sank low, till you almost thought 
 
 You lived in the moving game. 
 0, good lads in the field they were, 
 
 Laboured and ran and threw ; 
 But we that sat on the benches there 
 
 Had the hardest work to do !
 
 410 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 Feet that had sped in games of yore, 
 
 Eyes that had guarded well, 
 Waited and watched the mounting score, 
 
 And the hopes that rose and fell ; 
 And girls put frolic and wagers by, 
 
 As they felt their pulses throb ; 
 And old men cheered but the cheering cry 
 
 Went gurgling into a sob ! 
 
 What is it ? forty, thirty more ? 
 
 You in the trousers white, 
 What did you come to Harrow for, 
 
 If we lose the match to-night ? 
 If a finger's grasp, as a catch comes down, 
 
 Go a thousandth part astray 
 Heavens ! to think there are folks in town 
 
 Who talk of the game as play ! 
 
 Over ' batsmen steadily set ; 
 
 ' Over ' maiden again ; 
 If it lasts a score of overs yet, 
 
 It may chance to turn the brain. 
 End it, finish it ! such a match 
 
 Shortens the breath we draw. 
 Lose it at once, or else A catch ! 
 
 All! 
 
 LORD'S, 1900 l 
 
 HARROW wins declare it, 
 
 AH the ranks of man ! 
 Ehine to Tiber bear it, 
 Borne to Astrakhan ! 
 
 O, the universe is small to hold the verses, 
 When for the lads who won the match you lift it all you can ; 
 
 Praise and pat and pet them, never more forget them, 
 When for the lads who won the match you lift it all you can ! 
 
 Cheer him, whale and porpoise ! 
 
 Ocean fishes, cheer ! 
 Over veldt and dorp, us 
 Krtiger yet may hear ! 
 
 See him hit and slash them, drive and cut and lash them ! 
 On the top of the scoring-board his eighty-eight are clear ! 
 
 Praise and pat and pet them, never more forget them, 
 On the top of the scoring-board his eighty-eight are clear 1 
 
 It will be observed that each verse is a semi-acrostic : First verse, Harrow 
 second verse, Cooksofn] ; third verse, H. S. Kaye ; fourth verse, Wilson ; fifth verse, 
 R. Crake.
 
 VERSES 411 
 
 How the bat they wielded 
 Smote the ball around ! 
 Kangaroos to field it, 
 
 Antelopes to bound ! 
 
 Yes, and how they caught, too, clutched it as they ought to, 
 Ever so high, and near and far, and spinning, and close to ground ! 
 
 Praise and pat and pet them, never more forget them, 
 Ever so high, and near and far, and spinning, and close to ground ! 
 
 ' Well, has luck betrayed us ? ' 
 
 If you trust the Hill, 
 Luck may fail to aid us, 
 Skill and valour will ! 
 
 Oh, to stop and feel them then to rush and steal them 
 Now or never to dare and do, when Daring matches Skill ! 
 Praise and pat and pet them, never more forget them, 
 Now or never to dare and do, when Daring matches Skill ! 
 
 Runs but six to tie them ! 
 Can they top the score ? 
 Rise and hover by them, 
 All the brave of yore ! 
 
 Keep the sight from blinking, stay the heart from sinking, 
 End is coming ; a one, a four, a one a tie A FOUR ! 
 
 Praise and pat and pet them, never more forget them, 
 End is coming ; a one, a four, a one a tie A FOUR ! 
 
 FROM THE VISITORS' BOOK, BUTTERMERE INN, CRUMMOCKWATER 
 
 ST. GEORGE was spent so runs the lay told still o'er pipes and flagons, 
 
 With weeding Britain all the day of griffins, gnomes, and dragons ; 
 
 Of all the sprites of hill and tree, hard hitters, merry fighters, 
 
 And almost but that could not be of all the guide-book writers : 
 
 Now, fighting o'er, he needed sore oh ! and his wings were weary ! 
 
 Some silent dell by fount and fell, quiet and cool and cheery : 
 
 He glanced at Malvern's boasted side, Snowdon in cloud-land hidden, 
 
 ' Snowdon,' he cried, ' is cockneyfied, and Malvern physic-ridden. 
 
 The Lakes will rest the good saint best ; unblessed with wife or daughter, 
 
 I yet can trace my cousin's face, St. Patrick, o'er the water.' 
 
 At Lowood's inn St. George he tried what ? with no bride beside him ? 
 
 At Ambleside he next applied Miss Martineau defied him ! 
 
 Rydal had got nor dish nor pot to welcome the new-comer, 
 
 Wast Head was full of Alpine men, in training for the summer. 
 
 At length he spied a smooth hill side, with lake and meadow planted, 
 
 Encircled all with mountain wall, deep bosomed, fairy haunted ; 
 
 He looked no more his doubt was o'er with most angelic flutter 
 
 His pinions drooped, and down he swooped, down, on the Mere of Butter.
 
 412 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 The matron gave what matrons have of welcome and of dinner, 
 
 What best they give to all who crave, be they or saint or sinner. 
 
 She gave him eggs she broiled him ham she would have added nectar, 
 
 But who can think what saints may drink ? unless indeed the rector. 
 
 ' Woman,' St. George at parting said, ' thy whisky's not the poorest ; 
 
 Thy chops are good for heavenly food, and any mortal tourist. 
 
 Be thou the patron of the vale, of cot and farm and dairy, 
 
 The queen of inns o'er hill and dale, of hostels tutelary ; 
 
 And when the guest comes sore distressed from Pillar, Scarf, or Gable, 
 
 "With thee he best shall find good rest, good bed and eke good table ; 
 
 Nor when he begs with weary legs, feet sore, and empty stomach, 
 
 Shall see or hear of better cheer than by the Lake of Crurnrnock.' 
 
 AN EPISODE OF BALACLAVA 
 
 WHEN slow and faint from off the plain 
 
 Pale wrecks of sword and gun, 
 Torn limbs, and faces racked with pain, 
 
 Crept upwards, one by one ; 
 When, striving as the hopeless strive, 
 
 Ascare with shot and flame, 
 Few pallid riders came alive, 
 
 And marvelled as they came ; 
 
 Dared any, while with corpses rife 
 
 Red gleamed the ghastly track, 
 Ride, for the love of more than life, 
 
 Into the valley back ? 
 Pierce, where the bravest tarried not, 
 
 Stand, where the strongest fell, 
 Face once again the surge of shot, 
 
 The plunging hail of shell ? 
 
 He trod of old the hill we tread, 
 
 He played the games we play ; 
 The part of him that is not dead 
 
 Belongs to us to-day ; 
 When next the stranger scans the wall 
 
 Where carved our heroes are, 
 Wits poets statesmen show them all, 
 
 And then, the one hussar. 
 
 He sought his chief a dim reply 
 From waving hand was brought ; 
 
 ' Passed on ' to safety, meant the cry ; 
 Amid the guns, he thought ;
 
 VEESES 413 
 
 No question more ; in purpose clear 
 
 His soldier's creed was strong ; 
 Where rode, he knew, the brigadier, 
 
 Must ride the aide-de-camp ! 
 
 He turned his horse's bridle round, 
 
 Ere one could breathe a breath, 
 And fronted, as on practice ground, 
 
 The nearest way to death. 
 In pride of manhood's ripest spring, 
 
 Hopes high, and honour won, 
 He deemed his life a little thing, 
 
 And rode, a soldier, on. 
 
 Up, slow, the homeward remnant fled, 
 
 Staggered, and fell, and ran ; 
 Down moved, through flying and through dead, 
 
 One hopeless splendid man ; 
 Alone, unrecked in heat of fray, 
 
 He stemmed the wave of flight, 
 And passed in smoke and flame away 
 
 From safety and from sight. 
 
 So ends the story ; comrade none 
 
 Saw where he wounded lay ; 
 No brother helped with cheering tone 
 
 His stricken life away ; 
 Alone, the pain, the chill, the dread, 
 
 Crept on him, limb by limb ; 
 The earth which hides the nameless dead 
 
 Closed nameless over him. 
 
 soldiers of a bloodless strife, 
 friends in work and play, 
 
 Bear we not all a coward life 
 
 Some moment in the day ? 
 So, lest a deed of gallant faith 
 
 Forgotten fade from view, 
 
 1 take the tale of LOCKWOOD'S death, 
 And write it down for you. 
 
 P. L. C. 
 
 NOT surely a week since we saw him, 
 Health brimming in feature and limb ; 
 
 Let me try to imagine and draw him, 
 Ere fancy and feature are dim.
 
 414 EDWAED BOWEN 
 
 Tall, eager, a face to remember, 
 
 A flush that could change as the day ; 
 
 A spirit that knew not December, 
 That brightened the sunshine of May. 
 
 A child ; in his childhood contented ; 
 
 Soon clouded, and sooner serene ; 
 Faults many, and quickly repented ; 
 
 Much love, where repentance had been. 
 Strong life, and an ardour of living ; 
 
 Quick blood, to enjoy and to hope ; 
 Most happy when, void of misgiving, 
 
 He coloured the world to his scope. 
 
 Is gentleness dear to the sainted ? 
 
 Is simpleness precious above ? 
 Shall a soul, with humanity tainted, 
 
 Through humbleness quicken to love ? 
 O comrades, when, in him and through him, 
 
 As weakness and brightness would blend, 
 You saw the soft nature, and knew him, 
 
 What more will you wish for your friend ? 
 
 What is he ? No answer. Behind him 
 
 Press faces as gallant as he. 
 Perchance you may happen to find him 
 
 As you roam through the ages to be. 
 There will still be the smile, and more golden ; 
 
 There will still be the trust, and more true ; 
 And, with manhood to nerve and embolden, 
 
 The boy will be dearer to you. 
 
 1878. 
 
 SHEMUEL 
 
 SHBMUEL, the Bethlehemite, 
 Watched a fevered guest at night ; 
 All his fellows fared afield, 
 Saw the angel host revealed ; 
 He nor caught the mystic story, 
 Heard the song, nor saw the glory. 
 
 Through the night they gazing stood, 
 Heard the holy multitude ; 
 Back they came in wonder home, 
 Knew the Christmas kingdom come, 
 Eyes aflame, and hearts elated ; 
 Shemuel sat alone, and waited.
 
 VEESES 415 
 
 Works of mercy now, as then, 
 Hide the angel host from men ; 
 Hearts atune to earthly love 
 Miss the angel notes above ; 
 Deeds, at which the world rejoices, 
 Quench the sound of angel voices. 
 
 So they thought, nor deemed from whence 
 
 His celestial recompense. 
 
 Shemuel, by the fever bed, 
 
 Touched by beckoning hands that led, 
 
 Died, and saw the Uncreated ; 
 
 All his fellows lived, and waited. 
 
 E. G. 
 
 STILL the balls ring upon the sun-lit grass, 
 
 Still the big elms, deep shadowed, watch the play ; 
 
 And ordered game and loyal conflict pass 
 The hours of May. 
 
 But the game's guardian, mute, nor heeding more 
 What suns may gladden, and what airs may blow, 
 
 Friend, teacher, playmate, helper, counsellor, 
 Lies resting now. 
 
 ' Over ' they move, as bids their fieldsman's art ; 
 
 With shifted scene the strife begins anew ; 
 1 Over ' we seem to hear him, but his part 
 
 Is over, too. 
 
 Dull the best speed, and vain the surest grace 
 
 So seemed it ever till there moved along 
 Brimmed hat, and cheering presence, and tried face 
 
 Amid the throng. 
 
 He swayed his realm of grass, and planned, and wrought ; 
 
 Warned rash intruders from the tended sward ; 
 A workman, deeming, for the friends he taught, 
 
 No service hard. 
 
 He found, behind first failure, more success ; 
 
 Cheered stout endeavour more than languid skill ; 
 And ruled the heart of boyhood with the stress 
 
 Of helpful will. 
 
 Or, standing at our hard-fought game, would look, 
 Silent and patient, drowned in hope and fear, 
 
 Till the lips quivered, and the strong voice shook 
 With low glad cheer.
 
 416 EDWARD BOWEN 
 
 Well played. His life was honester than ours ; 
 
 We scheme, he worked ; we hesitate, he spoke ; 
 His rough-hewn stem held no concealing flowers, 
 
 But grain of oak. 
 
 No earthly umpire speaks, his grave above ; 
 
 And thanks are dumb, and praise is all too late ; 
 That worth and truth, that manhood and that love 
 
 Are hid, and wait. 
 
 Sleep gently, where thou sleepest, dear old friend; 
 
 Think, if thou thinkest, on the bright days past ; 
 Yet loftier Love, and worthier Truth, attend 
 
 What more thou hast ! 
 
 1884. 
 
 F. P. 
 
 ONE friend and he, when thrills of warmer spring 
 
 Lent health and voice to boyish frame and tongue, 
 Stood side by side, or parted but to bring 
 
 Their treasured counsel to the scattering throng. 
 Tory, and Whig ; stout will, and courtly grace : 
 
 One strong for strife, one ignorant of foe ; 
 Both high of heart, and matched in honour's race ; 
 
 And in what else united ? Ah, we know. 
 
 Harrow, what service that from narrower soul 
 
 We give the hill where hopes and courage move, 
 Can rival his who spent, ungrudging, whole, 
 
 For thee, with thee, his seventy years of love ? 
 Eager in boyhood ; then a hero, great 
 
 In fields of sport, from vulgar flaunting free ; 
 Tried in life's larger labours, tasks of state ; 
 
 But most himself when caring most for thee ! 
 
 How gentle, helpful, playful I who that came 
 
 Shy, weak of limb, yet dreaming fame and skill, 
 But found, ere half he whispered House and name, 
 
 A voice that nurtured effort, strengthened will ? 
 And never a Harrow triumph swelled the heart, 
 
 And never a cloud fell dark on School or boy, 
 But he, strong brother, claimed the foremost part, 
 
 First in our griefs, and gladdest in our joy. 
 
 ' So shifts the leg so shapes the arm, the wrist ' 
 Ah, but the voice, the gesture 1 see him watch 
 
 With English strength, with Irish warmth, or list 
 The boyish count of innings or of catch.
 
 VEESES 417 
 
 The sunny humour rippling on the lips 
 'Mid pleasant tales of ancient strife and stress ; 
 
 And hope that knew no languor nor eclipse, 
 And clear calm eyes, and gallant tenderness. 
 
 Our fields have lost his presence. Never more, 
 
 In the long splendour of the summer days, 
 Game after game, as swells the mounting score, 
 
 His temperate voice shall gladden into praise. 
 Others will toil as he did ; still shall hold 
 
 The chain that binds us ; skill nor love shall cease ; 
 But he, the first, the purest friend of old, 
 
 Eests in the silence of the endless Peace. 
 
 Yet, dear memory of the friend of youth, 
 
 Die not, but stay, and quicken, at his name, 
 All that we have of valour and of truth, 
 
 Honour in strife, and sirnpleness in fame. 
 Still keep his teaching fresh, with arm and foot 
 
 Supple, and firm, and scorning sloth alone : 
 Keep fieldsmen watchful, batsmen resolute ; 
 
 But make our hearts as loyal as his own 1 
 
 1895, 
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 BPOTTISWOODE AND CO. LTD., NEW-STREET SQUARK 
 LONDON 
 
 E E
 
 H Classifieb Catalogue 
 
 OF WORKS IN 
 
 GENERAL LITERATURE 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. 
 
 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, E.G. 
 
 91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK, AND 33 HORNBY ROAD, BOMBAY 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BADMINTON LIBRARY (THE)- - ? 12 
 BIOGRAPHY, PERSONAL ME- 
 MOIRS, &c. 9 
 
 CHILDREN'S BOOKS - 32 
 CLASSICAL LITERATURE, TRANS- 
 LATIONS, ETC. - 22 
 COOKERY, DOMESTIC MANAGE- 
 MENT, &c. 36 
 
 EVOLUTION, ANTHROPOLOGY, 
 
 &C. 21 
 
 FICTION, HUMOUR, &c. - - 25 
 
 FUR, FEATHER AND FIN SERIES 15 
 
 FINE ARTS (THE) AND MUSIC - 36 
 HISTORY, POLITICS, POLITY, 
 
 POLITICAL MEMOIRS, &c. - 3 
 HISTORY AND 
 
 MENTAL, MORAL, AND POLITICAL 
 PHILOSOPHY ----- 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS AND CRITICAL 
 WORKS 
 
 POETRY AND THE DRAMA - 
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY AND ECO- 
 NOMICS 
 
 POPULAR SCIENCE - 
 RELIGION, THE SCIENCE OF 
 SILVER LIBRARY (THE) 
 \ SPORT AND PASTIME - 
 i STONYHURST PHILOSOPHICAL 
 
 i? 
 
 38 
 23 
 
 20 
 30 
 
 21 
 
 33 
 
 12 
 
 19 
 
 i_, n IN \j \j n. vj i^, n A JL vs JX I rvixij 
 
 SCIENCE OF 20 
 LOGIC, RHETORIC, PSYCHOLOGY, 
 &c. I7 
 
 TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE, THE 
 COLONIES &c - ii 
 
 WORKS OF REFERENCE- - - 31 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS AND EDITORS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Page 
 
 Page 
 
 Page 
 
 Abbott (Evelyn) - 3, 22 
 
 Banks (M. M.) - - 24 
 
 Campbell(Rev.Lewis) 21,22 
 
 Dauglish (M. G.) - 9 
 
 (J. H. M.) - 3 
 
 Baring-Gould (Rev. 
 
 Camperdown (Earl of) 9 
 
 Davidson (A. M. C.) 22 
 
 (T. K.) - - 17,18 
 
 S.)- - - -21,38 
 
 Chasseloup - Laubat * 
 
 (W. L.) - 17, 20, 21 
 
 (E. A.) - - 17 
 
 Barnett(S.A.andH.) 20 
 
 (Marquis de)- - 13 
 
 Davies (J. F.) - - 22 
 
 Acland (A. H. D.) - 3 
 
 Baynes (T. S.) - - 38 
 
 Chesney (Sir G.) - 3 
 
 Dent (C. T.) - - 14 
 
 Acton (Eliza) - - 36 
 
 Beaconsfield (Earl of) 25 
 
 Childe-Pemberton(W.S.) 9 
 
 De Salis (Mrs.) - 36 
 
 Adeane (J. H.) - - 9 
 
 Beaufort (Duke of) - 13, 14 
 
 Cholmondeley-Pennell 
 
 De Tocqueville (A.) - 4 
 
 Adelborg (O.) - - 32 
 
 Becker (W. A.) - 22 
 
 (H.) ... 13 
 
 Devas (C. S.) - - 19, 20 
 
 .(Eschylus - - 22 
 
 Beesly (A. H.) - - 9 
 
 Christie (R. C.) - 38 
 
 Dickinson (G. L.) - 4 
 
 Ainger (A. C.) - - 14 
 
 Bell (Mrs. Hugh) - 23 
 
 ChurchilK W. Spencer) 4, 25 
 
 (W. H.) - - 38 
 
 Albemarle (Earl of) - 13 
 
 Beqt (J. Theodore) - n 
 
 Cicero - - - 22 
 
 Dougall(L.) - - 25 
 
 Alcock (C. W.) - 15 
 
 Besant (Sir Walter)- 3 
 
 Clarke (Rev. R. F.) - 19 
 
 Dowden (E.) - - 40 
 
 Allen (Grant) - - 30 
 
 Bickerdyke(J-) -14.15 
 
 Climenson (E. J.) - 10 
 
 Doyle (Sir A. Conan) 25 
 
 Allgood (G.) - - 3 
 
 Bird (G.) 23 
 
 Clodd (Edward) -21,30 
 
 Du Bois (W. E. B.)- 5 
 
 Alverstone (Lord) - 15 
 
 Blackburne (J. H.) - 15 
 
 Clutterbuck (W. J.)- 12 
 
 Dufferin (Marquis of) 14 
 
 Angwin (M. C.) - 36 
 Anstey (F.) 25 
 
 Bland (Mrs. Hubert) 24 
 Blount (Sir E.) - 9 
 
 Colenso (R. I.) - 36 
 Conington (John) - 23 
 
 Dunbar (Mary F.) - 25 
 Dyson (E.) - - 26 
 
 Aristophanes - - 22 
 
 Boase (Rev. C. W.) - 6 
 
 Conway (Sir W. M ) 14 
 
 
 Aristotle - - - 17 
 
 Boedder (Rev. B.) - 19 
 
 ConybearefRev.W.J.) 
 
 Ebrington (Viscount) 15 
 
 Armstrong (W.) - 13 
 
 Brassey (Lady) - ii 
 
 & Howson (Dean) 33 
 
 Ellis (J. H.) - - 15 
 
 Arnold (Sir Edwin)- 11,23 (Lord) - - 14. 
 
 Coolidge (W. A. B.) n 
 
 (R. L.) - 17 
 
 (Dr. T.) - - 3 
 
 Bray (C.) - - - 17 
 
 Corbett (Julian S.) - 4 
 
 Erasmus - 9 
 
 Ashbourne (Lord) - 3 
 
 Bright (Rev. J. F.) - 3 
 
 Coutts (W.) - - 22 
 
 Evans (Sir John) 38 
 
 Ashby (H.) - - 36 
 
 Broadfoot (Major W.) 13 
 
 Coventry (A.) - - 14 
 
 
 Ashley (W. J.) - - 3, 20 
 
 Brooks (H. J.) - - 17 
 
 Cox (Harding) - 13 
 
 Falkiner (C. L.) 4 
 
 Avebury (Lord) - 21 
 
 Brown (A. F.) - - 32 
 
 Crake (Rev. A. D.) - 32 
 
 Farrar (Dean) - 20, 26 
 
 Ayre (Rev. J.) - - 31 
 
 (J. Moray) - 14 
 
 Craven (W. G.) - 14 
 
 Fitzgibbon (M.) 4 
 
 
 Bruce (R. I.) - 3 
 
 Crawford (J. H.) - 25 
 
 Fitzmaurice (Lord E.) 4 
 
 Bacon - - - 9, 17 
 
 Bryce(J.)- - 14 
 
 (R.) --- ii 
 
 Folkard (H. C.) - 15 
 
 Bagehot (W.) - . 9, 20, 38 
 
 Buck (H. A.) - 14 
 
 Creed (S.) - - 25 
 
 Ford (H.) - - - 16 
 
 Bagwell (R.) - - 3 
 
 Buckland (Jas.) - 32 
 
 Creierhton (Bishop) - 4, 6, 9 
 
 (W. J.) - - 16 
 
 Bailey (H. C.) - - 25 
 
 Buckle (H. T.) - 3 
 
 Crozier (J. B.) - - 9, 17 
 
 Fountain (P - - ii 
 
 Baillie (A. F.) - 3 
 
 Bull(T.) - - 36 
 
 distance (Col. H.) - 15 
 
 Fowler (Edith H.) - 26 
 
 Bain (Alexander) - 17 
 
 Burke (U. R.) - 3 
 
 Cults (Rev. E. L.) - 6 
 
 Francis (Francis) - 16 
 
 Baker (J. H.) - - 38 
 
 Burns (C. L.) - - 36 
 
 
 Francis (M. E.) - 26 
 
 (SirS. W.) - ii 
 Balfour (A. J.) - 13,21 
 
 Burrows (Montagu) 6 
 Butler (E. A.) - - 30 
 
 Dabney (J. P.) - - 23 
 Dale (L.) - - - 4 
 
 Freeman (Edward A.) 6 
 Fremantle (T. F.) - 16 
 
 (Lady Betty) - 6 
 
 
 (T. F.) - - 14 
 
 Fresnfield (D. W.) - 14 
 
 Ball (John) - - ii 
 
 Cameron of Lochiel is ' Dallinger (F. W.) - 5 
 
 Frost (G.) - - - 38
 
 [NDEX OF AUTHORS 
 
 AND EDI TO R S continue' . 
 
 Page Page 
 
 Page i Pae.t 
 
 "roude (James A.) 4,9,11,26 Kant (I.) - - - 18 
 
 Nesbit (E.) - - 24 Sophocles - - 23 
 
 'uller (F. W.) - 5 Kaye (Sir J. W.) - 6 
 
 Nettleship (R. L.) - 17 ; Soulsby (Lucy H.) - 40 
 
 urneaux (W.) - 30 Keary (C. F.) - - 23 
 
 Newman (Cardinal) - 28 Southey (R.) - - 40 
 
 Keller (A. G.) - - 22 
 
 Nichols (F. M.) - 9 Spahr (C. B.^ - - 20 
 
 iardiner (Samuel R.) 5 Kelly (E.)- - - 18 
 Jathorne-Hardy(Hon. Kent (C. B. R.) - 6 
 A. E.) - - 15, 16 Kerr (Rev. J.) - - 14 
 ieikie (Rev. Cunning- Killick (Rev. A. H.) - 18 
 ham) 38 Kitchin (Dr. G. W.) 6 
 
 Ogilvie(R.) - - 23 ISeSH; ' 9 ' H 
 Oldfield (Hon. Mrs.) 9 f i /if-' C"' 
 Onslow (Earl of) - 14 c xu- V // ? 
 Osbourne (L.) - - 28 3^0? - - S 
 
 iibbons (J. S.) - 15 Knight (E. F.) - -11,14 
 
 Packard (A. S.) - 21 i Stephen (Leslie) - 12 
 
 iibson (C. H.)- - 17 Kostlin (J.) - - 10 
 
 Paget (Sir J.) - - 10 Stephens (H. Morse) S 
 
 ileig (Rev. G. R.) - 10 Kristeller (P.) - - 37 
 
 Park (W.) - - 16 Sternberg (Count 
 
 loethe - - - ~J L dd (G T ) 18 
 
 Parker (B.) - - 40 Adalbert) - - 8 
 
 .ore-Booth (Sir H. W.) 14 f^ 3 " <Y _T ,~ fi / 
 
 Payne-Gallwey (Sir Stevens (R. W.) - 40 
 
 iraham (A.) - - 5 ^ 
 
 R.; - - -14,16 Stevenson (R. L.) 25,28, 33 
 
 Z }r' F'! I5> 2 6 La P sle X ( Q - T -? 3 ' 7 - ^ 
 u ' i\i "n Lascelles (Hon. G.) 13,15 
 .ranby (Marquess of) 15 Laurie (S S-) . '. = 
 
 .rant (Sir A.) - - 17 Lawley (Ho n. F.) - 14 
 .raves (R. P.) - - 9 Lawrence (F W) 
 
 Pearson (C. H.) - 10 ! Storr (F.) 17 
 Peek ( Hedley) - - 14 Stuart-Wortley(A.J-) 15 
 Pemberton (W. S. Stubbs (J. W.) - - 8 
 Childe-) - - 9 i Suffolk & Berkshire 
 Pembroke (Earl of) - 14 (Earl of) - - 14 
 
 ,reen(T Hill) - 17, 18 Lear (H . L. Sidney) - 36 
 
 IrevUle (C C : F 1 " 3 Lecky (W. E. H.) 6,18,23 
 ire\iiie ^u. v^. r.) * 5 T /i A \ 
 
 Pennant (C. D.) - 15 Sullivan (Sir E.) - 14 
 Phillipps-Wolley(C.) 12, 28 Sully (James) - - 19 
 Pierce (A. H.) - - 19 ; Sutherland (A. and G.) 
 
 J/v-p TT x J-iCC3 M A.I ~ ~ 12 
 rose T H.) - 18 Leigh ton (J. A.) - 18 
 iross ' C ,-) - - 5 Leslie (T.E.Cliffe)- 20 
 
 ' rOV fi A <"' ' 3 Lieven (Princess) - 8 
 (Lady) - - ii j jiij ,. . * 
 
 Pitman (C. M.) - 14 
 Pleydell-Bouverie (E. O.) 14 
 Pole (W.) - - - 17 
 Pollock (W. H.) - 13, 40 
 
 (Alex.) - - 19, 40 
 (G.) - - - 40 
 Suttner (B. von) - 29 
 Swan (M.) - - 29 
 
 ,\r T *ii \ inline v/\.0 - 10 
 (Mrs. Lilly) - 13 T ln j lf . v /i > 
 iurdon (Ladv Camilla) 26 iZZZt ft.'' n \ 
 
 Poole(W. H. and Mrs.) 36 Swinburne (A. J.) - 19 
 Poore (G. V.) - - 40 Svrnes 0- E.) - - 20 
 
 .urnhilKJ.) - - 18 todgelH C)- "- 6 
 ' 3I Lofde (Rev. W. J.) - 
 laggard (H. Rider) ^^W.?' ^- - ' \6 
 
 1 1. 26, 27i 38 //-* u \ 
 
 Iake(0.)- - - 14 - ~ Mrs C T") 17 
 Ialliwell-Philli PP s(J.) 10 T ',,,! 'j } '' 
 lamilton (Col. H. B.) 5 Lubb^ck (Sir lohn) " 11 
 lamlin (A. D. F.) - 36 T 
 larding (S. B.) - 5 LucT^n '- '- '- 11 
 
 Pope (W. H.) - - 15 
 Powell (E.) - - 7 
 Powys (Mrs. P. L.) - 10 
 Praeger (S. Rosamond) 33 
 Prevost (C.) - - 13 
 Pritchett (R. T.) - 14 
 Proctor (R. A.) - 17, 30 
 
 Raine (Rev. James) - 6 
 Ramal (W.) - - 24 
 Randolph (C. F.) - 7 
 
 TaiUJ.) --- 7 
 Tallentyre (S. G.) - 10 
 Tappan (E. M.) - 33 
 Tavlor (Col. Meadows) 8 
 Tebbutt (C. G.) - 14 
 Terry (C. S.) - - 10 
 Thomas (J. W.) - 19 
 Thomson (H. C.) - 8 
 Thornhill (W. ].) - 23 
 Thornton (T. H.) - 10 
 
 .n (A. t/.j 13, 14 Lutoslawski (W.) - 18 
 
 Rankin (R.) - - 8, 25 ; Todd (A.) - 
 
 Sfnifrr E / ?I ' L y a11 (Edna) - - 27 
 
 Ransome (Cyril) - 3, 8 [ Tout (T. F.) - - 7 
 
 Iarting(J E.)- : 5 Lynch (G.) - - 6 
 
 Raymond (W.) - 28 Toynbee (A.! 20 
 
 W H /A \ s ' ^- ^' B.)- - 12 
 
 ReidfS. J.) - - 9 
 
 Trevelyan (Sir G. O.) 
 
 !awe a is (H. R.)" '- 9, 36 ?%?&: *' ^ \ 
 T_J f M-- \ *- inon. /Y.) 14 
 
 Rhoades (J.) - - 23 
 Rice (S. P.) 12 
 
 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 
 (G. M.) - - 7, 8 
 
 fh ( m n I ?~ ' Lvtton < Earl of > - 6 - 2 * 
 
 Rich (A.) - - - 23 Trollope (Anthony)- 29 
 
 leatn (L/. JU.) - - 17 
 
 Richardson (C.) - 13, 15 Turner (ri. G.) - 40 
 
 leathcote 0- M.) - 14 Macaulay (Lord) 6,7, 10,24 
 
 Richmond (Ennis) - 19 ! Tyndall (J.) - - 9, 12 
 
 (N) - - j* . Macdonald (Dr. G.) - 24 
 
 Rickaby (Rev. John) 19 Tyrrell (R. Y.) - - 22, 23 
 
 Jelmholtz (Hermann ^ MackaiUT !w f *'- 10, 23 
 
 (Rev. Joseph) - 19 
 Ridley (Sir E.)- - 22 
 (Lady Alice) - 28 
 
 Unwin (R.) - - ' 40 
 Upton(F.K.and Bertha) 33 
 
 lenderson (Lieut- Mackinnon (I*) 
 
 Riley(J. W.) - - 24 
 
 Van Dyke (J. C.) - 37 
 
 T C !\x?; F ' R-) " 9 Macleod (H. D.) - 20 
 
 Roberts (E. P.) - 33 
 
 ' Veritas ' - - - 5 
 
 lenry (W.) - - 14 
 
 Macpherson (Rev. 
 
 Roget (Peter M.) - 20, 31 
 
 Virgil - - - 23 
 
 lenty (G. A.) 32 
 lerbert (Col. Kenney) 15 
 liley (R. W.) - - 9 
 ttll (Mabel) - - 5 
 lillier (G. Lacy) - 13 
 Hime (H. W. L.) - 22 
 lodgson (Shadworth)iS, 38 
 Hoenig (F.) - - 38 
 Hogan(J.F.) - - 9 
 Holmes (R. R.) - 10 
 Holroyd (M. J.) - 9 
 Homer - - - 22 
 
 H. A.) - - 15 
 Madden (D. H.) - 16 
 Magnusson (E.) - 28 
 Maher (Rev. M.) - 19 
 Malleson (Col. G. B.) 6 
 Marchment (A. W.) 27 
 Marshman (J. C.) - 9 
 Maryon (M.) 39 
 Mason (A. E. W.) - vj 
 Maskelyne(J. N.) - 16 
 Matthews (B.) - 39 
 
 Rolls (Hon. C. S.) - 13 
 Romanes (G. J.) 10, 19,21,24 
 (Mrs. G. J.) - 10 
 Ronalds (A.) - - 17 
 Roosevelt (T.) - - 6 
 Ross (Martin) - - 28 
 Rossetti (Maria Fran- 
 cesca) - - - 40 
 Rotheram (M. A.) - 36 
 Rowe (R. P. P.) - 14 
 Russell (Lady)- - 10 
 
 Wagner (R.) - - 25 
 Wakeman (H. O.) - 8 
 Walford (L. B.) - 29 
 Wallas (Graham) - 10 
 (Mrs. Graham) - 32 
 Walpole (Sir Spencer) 8, 10 
 (Horace) - - 10 
 Walrond (Col. H.) - 12 
 Walsingham (Lord)- 14 
 Ward ( Mrs. W.) - 29 
 Warwick (Countess of) 40 
 
 Hope (Anthony) - 27 
 Horace 22 
 
 Maunder (S.) - - 31 
 Max Muller (F.) 
 
 Saintsbury (G.) -' 15 
 Salomons (Sir D.) - 13 
 
 Watson (A. E. T.) - 14 
 (G.L.) - - 14 
 
 Houston (D. F.) - 5 
 Howard (Lady Mabel) 27 
 Howitt(W.) - - ii 
 Hudson (W. H.) - 30 
 Huish (M. B.) - - 37 
 Hullah ().) - 37 
 Hume (David) - - 18 
 (M. A. S.) - 3 
 Hunt (Rev. W.) - 6 
 Hunter (Sir W.) - 6 
 iutchinson (Horace G.) 
 13. 16, 27, 38 
 ngelow (Jean) - 23 
 ngram (T. D.) - 6 
 
 10, 1 8, 20, 21, 22, 27, 39 
 Mav (Sir T. Erskine) 7 
 McFerran (J.) - - 14 
 Meade (L. T.) - - 32 
 Mecredy(R. I.) - 13 
 Melville (G. J. Whyte) 27 
 Merivale (Dean) - 7 
 Mernmaa (H. S.) - 27 
 Mill (John Stuart) - 18. 20 
 Millias (J. G.) - - 16, 30 
 Milner (G.) - - 40 
 Mitchell (E. B.) - 13 
 Monck (W. H. S.) - 19 
 Montague (F. C.) - 7 
 Moon (G. W.) - - 24 
 
 Sandars (T. C.) - 18 
 Sanders (E. K.) - 9 
 Savage- Armstrong(G.F.)25 
 Scott-Montagu 
 (Hon. J.) - - 13 
 Seebohm (F.) - - 8, 10 
 Selous(F. C.) - - 12, 17 
 Senior (W.) - - 14, 15 
 Seth-Smith (C. E.) - 14 
 Seton-Karr - - 8 
 Sewel! (Elizabeth M.) 28 
 Shadwell (A.) 40 
 Shakespeare - - 25 
 Shand(A I.) - - 15 
 Shaw (W. A.) - - 8 
 
 Weathers (J.) - - 40 
 Webb (Mr. and Mrs. 
 Sidney) - - 20 
 (Judge T.) - 40 
 (T. E.) - - 19, 23 
 Weber (A.) - - 19 
 Weir (Capt. R.) - 14 
 Wellington (Duchess of) 3; 
 West (B. B.) - - 29 
 Weyman (Stanley) - 29 
 Whatelv(Archbishop) 17,19 
 Whitelaw (R.) - - 23 
 Whittall (Sir J. W. )- 40 
 Wilkins (G.) - - 23 
 (W. H.) - - 3 
 
 ackson (A. W.) - 10 
 ames (W.) - 18 
 ameson (Mrs. Anna) 37 
 efferies (Richard) - 38 
 ekyll (Gertrude) - 38 
 erome (Jerome K.) - 27 
 ohnson (J. & J. H.) 39 
 ones (H. Bence) - 31 
 ovce (P. W.) - 6, 27, 39 
 
 Moore (T.) 31 
 (Rev. Edward) - 17 
 Morgan (C. Lloyd) - 21 
 Morris (Mowbray) - 13 
 (W.) - - 22, 23, 24, 
 27. 28, 37, 40 
 Mulhall (M. G.) - 20 
 Murray (Hilda) - 33 
 
 Nansen (F.) - - 12 
 
 Shearman (M.) 12, 13 
 Sheehan (P. A.) - 28 
 Sheppard (E.) - - 8 
 Sinclair (A.) - - 14 
 Skrine (F. H.) - 9 
 Smith (C. Fell) - 10 
 (R. Bosworth) - 8 
 
 Smith (W. P.,Haskett) 12 
 
 Willard (A. R.) - 37 
 Willich (C. M.) - 31 
 Witham (T. M.) - 14 
 Wood (Rev. J. G.) - 31 
 Wood-Martin (W. G.) 22 
 Wyatt (A. J.) - - 24 
 Wylie(J.H.) - - 8 
 
 Yeats (S. Levett) - 29 
 
 u'stinian - - - 18 Nash (V.)- - - 7 
 
 Somerville (E.) - 28 Zeller (E.) - - 19
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 History, Politics, Polity, Political Memoirs, &c. 
 
 Abbott. A HISTORY OF GREECE. 
 By EVELYN ABBOTT, M.A., LL.D. 
 
 Part I. From the Earliest Times to the 
 Ionian Revolt. Crown 8vo., 105. 6d. 
 
 Part II. 500-445 B.C. Crown 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 Part III. From the Peace of 445 B.C. to 
 the Fall of the Thirty at Athens in 403 
 B.C. Crown 8vo., ios. 6d. 
 
 Abbott. -TOMMY CORNSTALK : being 
 Some Account of the Less Notable 
 Features of the South African War from 
 the Point of View of the Australian Ranks. 
 By J. H. M. ABBOTT. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Acland and Ransome. A HAND- 
 BOOK IN OUTLINE OF THE POLITICAL HIS- 
 TORY OF ENGLAND TO 1896. Chronologically 
 Arranged. By the Right Hon. A. H. DYKE 
 ACLAND, and CYRIL RANSOME, M.A. Crown 
 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Allgood. CHINA WAR, 1860 : 
 LETTERS AND JOURNALS. By Major- 
 General G. ALLGOOD, C.B., formerly Lieut. 
 G. ALLGOOD, ist Division China Field 
 Force. With Maps, Plans, and Illustra- 
 tions. Demy 4to. 125. 6d. net. 
 
 Annual Register (The). A Review 
 
 of Public Events at Home and Abroad, for 
 the year 1901. 8vo., 185. 
 
 Volumes of the ANNUAL REGISTER tor the 
 years 1863-1900 can still be had. iSs. each. 
 
 Arnold. INTRODUCTORY LECTURES 
 ON MODERN HISTORY. By THOMAS AR- 
 NOLD, D.D., formerly Head Master of Rugby 
 School. 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 
 Ashbourne. PITT : SOME CHAPTERS 
 ON His LIFE AND TIMES. By the Right 
 Hon. EDWARD GIBSON, LORD ASHBOURNE, 
 Lord Chancellor of Ireland. With n Por- 
 traits. 8vo., gilt top, 2is. 
 
 Ashley. SUR VEYS, HISTORIC AND 
 ECONOMIC : a Volume of Essays. By W. 
 J. ASHLEY, M.A. 8vo., gs. net. 
 
 Bagwell. IRELAND UNDER THE 
 TUDORS. By RICHARD BAGWELL, LL.D. 
 (3 vols.) Vols. I. and II. From the first 
 invasion of the Northmen to the year 1578. 
 8vo., 325. Vol. III. 1578-1603. 8vo., 185. 
 
 Baillie. THE ORIENTAL CLUB, AND 
 HANOVER SQUARE. By ALEXANDER F. 
 BAILLIE. With 6 Photogravure Portraits 
 and 8 Full-page Illustrations. Crown 4to., 
 255. net. 
 
 Besant. THE HISTORY OF LONDON. 
 
 By Sir WALTER BESANT. With 74 Illus- 
 trations. Crown 8vo., is. gd. Or bound 
 as a School Prize Book, gilt edges, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Bright. A HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 
 By the Rev. J. FRANCK BRIGHT, D. D. 
 
 Period I. MEDIMVAL MONARCHY: A.D. 
 449-1485. Crown 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 Period II. PERSONAL MONARCHY. 1485- 
 1688. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Period III. CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY- 
 1689-1837. Crown 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 
 Period IV. THE GROWTH OF DEMOCRACY. 
 1837-1880. Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 Bruce. THE FORWARD POLICY AND 
 ITS RESULTS; or, Thirty-five Years' Work 
 amongst the Tribes on our North-Western 
 Frontier of India. By RICHARD ISAAC 
 BRUCE, C.I.E. With 28 Illustrations and 
 a Map. 8vo., 155. net. 
 
 Buckle. HISTORY OF CIVILISATION 
 IN ENGLAND, FRANCE, SPAIN, AND SCOT- 
 LAND. By HENRY THOMAS BUCKLE. 3 vols. 
 Crown 8vo., 245. 
 
 ' Silver Library ' Edition. 
 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 3 vols. Crown 
 
 Burke. A HISTORY OF SPAIN, 
 FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE 
 DEATH OF FERDINAND THE CATHOLIC. 
 By ULICK RALPH BURKE, M.A. Edited 
 by MARTIN A. S. HUME. With 6 Maps. 
 2 vols. Crown 8vo., 165. net. 
 
 Caroline, Queen. CAROLINE THE 
 ILLUSTRIOUS, QUEEN-CONSORT OF GEORGE 
 II. AND SOMETIME QUEEN REGENT: 2L 
 Study of Her Life and Time. By W. H. 
 WILKINS, M.A., F.S.A., Author of 'The 
 Love of an Uncrowned Queen '. 2 vols., 
 8vo., 365. 
 
 Chesney. INDIAN POLITY: a View of 
 the System of Administration in India. By 
 General Sir GEORGE CHESNEY, K.C.B. 
 With Map showing all the Administrative 
 Divisions of British India. 8vo., 215.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO. S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 History, Politics, Polity, Political Memoirs, &c. continue^ 
 
 Churchill (WINSTON SPENCER, M.P.). 
 
 THE RIVER WAR : an Historical 
 Account of the Reconquest of the Soudan. 
 Edited by Colonel F. RHODES, D.S.O. 
 With 34 Maps and Plans, and 51 Illustra- 
 tions from Drawings by ANGUS McNEiLL. 
 Also with 7 Photogravure Portraits of 
 Generals, etc. 2 vols. Medium 8vo., 365. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE MALAKAND 
 FIELD FORCE, 1897. With 6 Maps and 
 Plans. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 LONDON TOLADYSMITHVIAPRETORIA . 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 IAN HAMILTON'S MARCH. With 
 Portrait of Lieut. -General Ian Hamilton, 
 and 10 Maps and Plans. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Corbett (JULIAN S.). 
 
 DRAKE AND THE TUDOR NAVY, I 
 with a History of the Rise of England \ 
 as a Maritime Power. With Portraits, 
 Illustrations and Maps. 2 vols. Crown 
 8vo., 165. 
 
 THE SUCCESSORS OF DRAKE. With 
 4 Portraits (2 Photogravures) and 12 j 
 Maps and Plans. 8vo., 2 is. 
 
 Creighton (M., D.D., Late Lord j 
 
 Bishop of London). 
 
 A HISTORY OF THE PAPACY FROM 
 THE GREAT SCHISM TO THE SACK OP 
 ROME, 1378-1527. 6 vols. Cr. 8vo., \ 
 5$. net each. 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH. With Portrait. 
 Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 HISTORICAL ESSAYS AND REVIEWS. 
 Edited by LOUISE CREIGHTON. Crown 
 8vo., 55. net. [Nearly ready. 
 
 ) a l e< THE PRINCIPLES OF ENGLISH 
 CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY. By LUCY 
 DALE, late Scholar of Somerville College, 
 Oxford. Crown 8vo. , 6s. 
 
 De Tocqueville. DEMOCRACY IN 
 
 AMERICA. By ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE. 
 Translated by HENRY REEVE, C.B., D.C.L. 
 2 vols. Crown 8vo., i6s. 
 
 Dickinson. THE DEVELOPMENT OF 
 PARLIAMENT DURING THE NINETEENTH 
 CENTURY. By G. LOWES DICKINSON, M.A. 
 8vo.. -7S. 6d. 
 
 Falkiner. STUDIES IN IRISH HK 
 TORY AND BIOGRAPHY, Mainly of tf 
 Eighteenth Century. By C. LITTO 
 FALKINER. 8vo., i2s. 6d. net. 
 
 Fitzgibbon. ARTS UNDER ARMS 
 
 an University Man in Khaki. By MAURIC 
 FITZGIBBON, B.A., Trinity College, Dubli 
 University, late Trooper and Sergean 
 Major, 45th Company (Irish Hunt Cot 
 tingent) Imperial Yeomanry. With 6 I 
 lustrations. Crown 8vo., gilt top, 55. net. 
 
 Fitzmaurice. CHARLES WILLIA* 
 FERDINAND, DUKE OF BRUNSWICK: a 
 Historical Study. By Lord EDMUN 
 FITZMAURICE. With Map and 2 Portrait: 
 8vo., 6s. net. 
 
 Froude QAMES A.). 
 
 THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND, from th 
 Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of th 
 Spanish Armada. 12 vols. Crown 8vo 
 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 THE DIVORCE OF CATHERINE o 
 ARAGON. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE SPANISH STORY OF THE At 
 MADA, and other Essays. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6< 
 
 THE ENGLISH IN IRELAND IN TH 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 3 vols. Cr. 8vo 
 ioj. 6d. 
 
 ENGLISH SEAMENIN THE SIXTEENT. 
 
 CENTURY. 
 
 Cabinet Edition. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Illustrated Edition. With 5 Phot< 
 gravure Plates and 16 other Illustn 
 tions. Large Cr. 8vo., gilt top, 6s. ne 
 
 ' Silver Library ' Edition. Cr. 8vo., 3S. x 
 
 THE COUNCIL OF TRENT. Crow 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 SHOR T STUDIES ON GREA T SUBJECTS 
 Cabinet Edition. 4 vols. 245. 
 ' Silver Library ' Edition. 4 vols. Crow 
 8vo., 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 CAESAR : a Sketch. Cr. 8vo, 35. 6a 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS o 
 JJMES ANTHONY FROUDE. Edited b 
 P. S. ALLEN, M.A. Crown 8vo., 35. 6c
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 History, Politics, Polity, Political Memoirs, &c. continued. 
 
 Fuller. EGYPT AND THE HINTER- Gross. THE SOURCES AND LITERA- 
 
 LAND. By FREDERIC W. FULLER. With 
 Frontispiece and Map of Egypt and the 
 Sudan. 8vo., los. 6d. net. 
 
 Gardiner (SAMUEL RAWSON, D.C.L., 
 
 LL.D.). 
 
 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, from the Ac- 
 cession of James I. to the Outbreak of the 
 Civil War, 1603-1642. 10 vols. Crown 
 8vo., 55. net each. 
 
 A HISTORY OF THE GREAT CIVIL 
 WAR, 1642-1649. 4 vols. Cr. 8vo., 5$. net 
 each. 
 
 A HISTORY OF THE COMMONWEALTH 
 AND THE PROTECTORATE. 1649-1660. 
 Vol.1. 1649-1651. With 14 Maps. 8vo.,2ii. 
 Vol. II. 1651-1654. With 7 Maps. 
 8vo.,2ii. Vol. III. 1654-1656. With6 
 Maps. 8vo., 2is. 
 
 THE STUDENT'S HISTORY OF ENG- 
 LAND. With 378 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo., gilt top, I2s. 
 
 Also in Three Volumes, price 45. each. 
 
 WHAT GUNPOWDER PLOT WAS. 
 With 8 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 CROMWELL'S PLACE IN HISTORY. 
 Founded on Six Lectures delivered in the 
 University of Oxford. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL. With Frontis- 
 piece. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 German Empire (The) of To-day : 
 
 Outlines of its Formation and Development. 
 By ' VE RITAS '. Crown 8vo., 6s. net. -jj 
 
 Graham. ROMAN AFRICA : an Out- 
 line of the History of the Roman Occupa- 
 tion of North Africa, based chiefly upon 
 'Inscriptions and Monumental Remains in 
 that Country. By ALEXANDER GRAHAM, 
 F.S.A., F.R.I.B.A. With 30 reproductions 
 of Original Drawings by the Author, and 
 2 Maps. 8vo., i6s. net. 
 
 Greville. A JOURNAL OF THE REIGNS 
 OF KING GEORGE IV., KING WILLIAM IV., 
 AND QUEEX VICTORIA. By CHARLES C. F. 
 GREVILLE, formerly Clerk of the Council. 
 8 vols. Crown 8vo., 35. 6rf. each. 
 
 TURE OF ENGLISH HISTORY, FROM THE 
 EARLIEST TIMES TO ABOUT 1485. By 
 CHARLES GROSS, Ph.D. 8vo., 185. net. 
 
 Hamilton. HISTORICAL RECORD OF 
 THE I^TH (KING'S) HUSSARS, from A.D. 1715 
 to A.D. 1900. By Colonel HENRY BLACK- 
 BURNE HAMILTON, M.A., Christ Church, 
 Oxford ; late Commanding the Regiment. 
 With 15 Coloured Plates, 35 Portraits, etc., 
 in Photogravure, and 10 Maps and Plans. 
 Crown 410., gilt edges, 425. net. 
 
 HARVARD HISTORICAL STUDIES. 
 
 THE SUPPRESSION OF THE AFRICAN 
 SLAVE TRADE TO THE UNITED STATES OP 
 AMERICA, 1638-1870. By W. E. B. Du 
 Bois, Ph.D. 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 
 THE CONTEST OVER THE RATIFICATON 
 OF THE FEDERAL CONSTITUTION IN MASSA- 
 CHUSETTS. By S. B. HARDING, A.M. 8vo.,65. 
 
 A CRITICAL STUDY OF NULLIFICATION 
 IN SOUTH CAROLINA. By D. F. HOUSTON, 
 A.M. 8vo., 65. 
 
 NOMINATIONS FOR ELECTIVE OFFICE 
 IN THE UNITED STATES. By FREDERICK 
 W. DALLINGER, A.M. 8vo., 71. 6d. 
 
 A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF BRITISH MUNI- 
 CIPAL HISTORY, INCLUDING GILDS AND 
 PARLIAMENTARY REPRESENTATION. By 
 CHARLES GROSS, Ph.D. 8vo., 125. 
 
 THE LIBERTY AND FREE SOIL PARTIES 
 IN THE NORTH WEST. By THEODORE C. 
 SMITH, Ph.D. 8vo, 75. 6d. 
 
 THE PROVINCIAL GOVERNOR IN THE 
 ENGLISH COLONIES OF NORTH AMERICA. 
 By EVARTS BOUTELL GREENE. Svo., 75. 6^ 
 
 THE COUNTY PALATINE OF DURHAM. 
 a Study in Constitutional History. By GAIL- 
 LARD THOMAS LAPSLEY, Ph.D. 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 Hill. LIBERTY DOCUMENTS. With 
 Contemporary Exposition and Critical Com- 
 ments drawn from various Writers. Selected 
 and Prepared by MABEL HILL. Edited with 
 an Introduction by ALBERT BUSHNELL 
 HART, Ph.D. Large Crown 8vo., js. 6d.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 History, Politics, Polity, Political Memoirs, &e. continued. 
 
 Lecky (The Rt. Hon. WILLIAM E. H.; 
 
 Historic Towns. Edited by E. A. 
 
 FREEMAN, D.C.L., and Rev. WILLIAM HUNT, 
 M.A. With Maps and Plans. Crown 8vo., 
 35. 6d. each. 
 
 Bristol. By Rev. W. Hunt. 
 
 Carlisle. By Mandell 
 Creighton, D.D. 
 
 Cinque Ports. By Mon- 
 tagu Burrows. 
 
 Colchester. By Rev. E. L. 
 Cults. 
 
 Exeter. By E. A. Freeman. 
 
 London. By Rev. W. J. 
 Loftie. 
 
 Oxford. By Rev. C. W. 
 Boase. 
 
 Winchester. By G. W. 
 Kitchin, D.D. 
 
 York. By Rev. James 
 Raine. 
 
 New York. By Tneodore 
 Roosevelt. 
 
 Boston (U.S.) By Henry 
 Cabot Lodge. 
 
 Hunter. A HISTORY OF BRITISH 
 INDIA. By Sir WILLIAM WILSON HUNTER, 
 K.C.S.I., M.A., LL.D. Vol. I. Introduc- 
 tory to the Overthrow of the English in the 
 Spice Archipelago, 1623. With 4 Maps. 
 8vo., 185. Vol. II. To the Union of the 
 Old and New Companies under the Earl of 
 Godolphin's Award, 1708. 8vo., ids. 
 
 HISTORY OF ENGLAND IN THE EIGH- 
 TEENTH CEI^TURY. 
 
 Library Edition. 8 vols. 8vo. Vols. I. 
 and II., 1700-1760, 365. ; Vols. III. and 
 IV., 1760-1784, 365. ; Vols. V. and VI., 
 1784-1793, 365. ; Vols. VII. and VIII., 
 1793-1800, 365. 
 
 Cabinet Edition. ENGLAND. 7 vols. Crown 
 8vo., 55. net each. IRELAND. 5 vols, 
 Crown 8vo., 5$. net each. 
 
 HISTORY OF EUROPEAN MORALS 
 FROM AUGUSTUS TO CHARLEMAGNE. 2 
 vols. Crown 8vo., IDS. net. 
 
 H 'IS TORY OF THE RlSE AND INFLU- 
 ENCE OF THE SPIRIT OF NATIONALISM /A 
 EUROPE. 2 vols. Crown 8vo., tos. net. 
 
 DEMOCRACY AND LIBERTY. 
 
 Library Edition. 2 vols. 8vo., 365. 
 Cabinet Edition. 2 vols. Cr. 8vo., 105. net. 
 
 Ingram. A CRITICAL EXAMINA- 
 TION OF IRISH HISTORY. From the Eliza- 
 bethan Conquest to the Legislative Union 
 of 1800. By T. DUNBAR INGRAM, LL.D. 
 2 vols. 8vo., 245. 
 
 Joyce. A SHORT HISTORY OF IRE- 
 LAND, from the Earliest Times to 1603. By 
 P. W. JOYCE, LL.D. Crown 8vo., 105. 6d. 
 
 Kaye and Malleson. HISTORY OF 
 THE INDIAN MUTINY, 1857-1858. By Sir 
 JOHN W. KAYE and Colonel G. B. MALLE- 
 SON. With Analytical Index and Maps and 
 Plans. 6 vols. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. each. 
 
 Kent. THE ENGLISH RADICALS : an 
 Historical Sketch. By C. B. ROYLANCE 
 KENT. Crown 8vo., -js. 6d. 
 
 Lang. THE MYSTERY OF MARY 
 STUART. By ANDREW LANG. With 6 
 Photogravure Plates (4 Portraits) and 15 
 other Illustrations. 8vo., i8s. net. 
 
 Laurie. HISTORICAL SURVEY OF 
 PRE-CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. By S. S. 
 
 Lowell. GOVERNMENTS AND PAR- 
 TIES IN CONTINENTAL EUROPE. By A. 
 LAWRENCE LOWELL. 2 vols. 8vo., 2is. 
 
 Lynch. THE WAR OF THE CIVILI- 
 
 SA TIONS : BEING A RECORD OF ' A FOREIGN 
 DEVIL'S' EXPERIENCES WITH THE ALLIES 
 IN CHINA. By GEORGE LYNCH, Special 
 Correspondent of the ' Sphere,' etc. With 
 Portrait and 21 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 
 6s. net. 
 
 Lytton. THE HISTORY OF LORD 
 LYTTON'S INDIAN ADMINISTRATION, FROM 
 1876-1880. Compiled from Letters and 
 Official Papers. Edited by Lady BETTY 
 BALFOUR. With Portrait and Map. 8vo., 185. 
 
 Macaulay (Lord). 
 
 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF LORD 
 MACAULAY. 
 
 ' Edinburgh' Edition. lovols. 8vo. ,6s. each. 
 Vols. I. -IV. HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 
 Vols. V.-VII. ESSAYS, BIOGRAPHIES, 
 
 INDIAN PENAL CODE, CONTRIBUTIONS 
 
 TO KNIGHT'S 'QUARTERLY MAGAZINE'. 
 Vol. VIII. SPEECHES, LAYS OF ANCIENT 
 
 ROME, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 Vols. IX. and X. THE LIFE AND 
 
 LETTERS OF LORD MACAULAY. By
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 History, Politics, Polity, Political Memoirs, &e. continued. 
 
 Macaulay (Lord) continued. 
 THE WORKS. 
 
 ' Albany' Edition. With 12 Portraits. 
 
 12 vols. Large Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. each. 
 Vols. I. -VI. HISTORY OF ENGLAND, 
 
 FROM THE ACCESSION OF JAMES THE 
 
 SECOND. 
 
 Vols. VII. -X. ESSAYS AND BIOGRAPHIES. 
 Vols. XI. -XII. SPEECHES, LAYS OF 
 
 ANCIENT ROME, ETC., AND INDEX. 
 Cabinet Edition. 16 vols. Post 8vo., 
 
 4 16*. 
 
 HISTORY of ENGLAND FROM THE 
 ACCESSION OF JAMES THE SECOND. 
 Popular Edition, 2 vols. Cr. 8vo., 55. 
 Student's Edition. 2 vols. Cr. 8vo., i2s. 
 People's Edition. 4 vols. Cr. 8vo., ids. 
 ' Albany ' Edition. With 6 Portraits. 6 
 
 vols. Large Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. each. 
 Cabinet Edition. 8 vols. Post 8vo., 485. 
 ' Edinburgh ' Edition. 4 vols. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 each. 
 
 CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL ESSAYS, 
 WITH LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME, etc., in i 
 volume. 
 
 Popular Edition. Crown 8vo., 2s. fid. 
 ' Silver Library ' Edition. With Portrait 
 
 and 4 Illustrations to the ' Lays'. Cr. 
 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL ESSAYS. 
 Student's Edition, i^vol. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 
 People's Edition. 2 vols. Cr. 8vo., Ss. 
 ' Trevelyan ' Edition. 2 vols. Cr. 8vo., gs. 
 Cabinet Edition. 4 vols. Post 8vo., 245. 
 'Edinburgh' Edition. 3 vols. 8vo., 6s. 
 . each. 
 
 Ess A YS, which may be had separately, 
 sewed, 6d. each ; cloth, is. each. 
 
 Addison and Walpole. 
 Croker's Boswell's Johnson. 
 Haliara's Constitutional 
 
 History. 
 
 Warren Hastings. 
 The Earl of Chatham (Two 
 
 Essays). 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. 
 
 People's Edition, i vol. Cr. 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS, 
 SPEECHES AND POEMS. 
 Popular Edition. Crown 8vo., as. 6d. 
 Cabinet Edition. 4 vols. Post 8vo., 245. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS OF 
 LORD MACAULAY. Edited, with Occa- 
 sional Notes, by the Right Hon. Sir G. O. 
 TREVELYAN, Bart. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Frederick the Great. 
 
 Ranke and Gladstone. 
 
 Lord Bacon. 
 
 Lord Clive. 
 
 Lord Byron, and The 
 
 Comic Dramatists of 
 
 the Restoration. 
 
 Mackinnon QAMES, Ph.D.). 
 
 THE HISTORY OF EDWARD THE 
 THIRD. 8vo., i8s. 
 
 THE GROWTH AND DECLINE OF THE 
 FRENCH MONARCHY. 8vo., 2is. net. 
 
 May. THE CONSTITUTIONAL HIS- 
 TORY OF ENGLAND since the Accession 
 of George III. 1760-1870. By Sir THOMAS 
 ERSKINE MAY, K.C.B. (Lord Farnborough). 
 3 vols. Cr. 8vo., i8s. 
 
 Merivale (CHARLES, D.D.). 
 
 HISTORY OF THE ROMANS UNDER THE 
 EMPIRE. 8 vols. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. each. 
 
 THE FALL OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC: 
 a Short History of the Last Century of the 
 Commonwealth. i2mo., ys. f>d. 
 
 GENERAL HISTORY OF ROME, from 
 the Foundation of the City to the Fall of 
 Augustulus, B.C. 753-A.D. 476. With 5 
 Maps. Crown 8vo., "js. 6d. 
 
 Montague. THE ELEMENTS OF 
 ENGLISH CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY. By 
 F. C. MONTAGUE, M.A. Crown 8yo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Nash. THE GREAT FAMINE AND 
 ITS CAUSES. By VAUGHAN NASH. With 
 8 Illustrations from Photographs by the 
 Author, and a Map of India showing the 
 Famine Area. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Owens College Essays. Edited 
 
 by T. F. TOUT, M.A., Professor of History 
 in the Owens College, Victoria University, 
 and JAMES TAIT, M.A., Assistant Lecturer 
 in History. With 4 Maps. 8vo., i2s. 6d. net. 
 
 Powell and Trevelyan. THE 
 
 PEASANTS' RISING AND THE LOLLARDS : 
 a Collection of Unpublished Documents. 
 Edited by EDGAR POWELL and G. M. 
 TREVELYAN. 8vo., 6s. net. 
 
 Randolph. THE LAW AND POLICY 
 OF ANNEXATION, with Special Reference to 
 the Philippines ; together with Observations 
 on the Status of Cuba. By CARMAN F. 
 RANDOLPH. 8vo., gs. net.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 History, Politics, Polity, Political Memoirs, &e. continued. 
 
 Rankin (REGINALD). 
 
 THE MARQUIS D'ARGENSON ; AND 
 RICHARD THE SECOND. 8vo., IDS. 6</. net. 
 
 A SUBALTERNS LETTERS TO His 
 WIFE. (The Boer War.) Crown 8vo., 
 35. 6rf. 
 
 Ransome. THE RISE OF CONSTI- 
 TUTIONAL GOVERNMENT IN ENGLAND. 
 By CYRIL RANSOME, M.A. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Seebohm (FREDERIC, LL.D., F.S.A.). 
 
 THE ENGLISH VILLAGE COMMUNITY, 
 With 13 Maps and Plates. 8vo., i6s. 
 
 TRIBAL CUSTOM IN ANGLO-SAXON 
 LAW : being an Essay supplemental to 
 
 (1) ' The English Village Community,' 
 
 (2) ' The Tribal System in Wales '. 
 8vo., 165. 
 
 Seton-Karr. THE CALL TO ARMS, 
 
 1900-1901 ; or a Review of the Imperial 
 Yeomanry Movement, and some subjects 
 connected therewith. By HENRY SETON- 
 KARR, M.P. With a Frontispiece by R. 
 CATON-WOODVILLE. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Shaw. A HISTORY OP THE ENGLISH 
 CHURCH DURING THE CIVIL WARS AND 
 UNDER THE COMMONWEALTH, 1640-1660. 
 By WILLIAM A. SHAW, Litt.D. 2 vols. 
 8vo., 365. 
 
 Sheppard. THE OLD ROYAL 
 PALACE OF WHITEHALL. By EDGAR 
 SHEPPARD, D.D., Sub-Dean of H.M. 
 Chapels Royal, Sub-Almoner to the King. 
 With 6 Photogravure Plates and 33 other 
 Illustrations. Medium 8vo., 215. net. 
 
 Smith. CARTHAGE AND THE CARTH- 
 AGINIANS. By R. BOSWORTH SMITH, M.A. 
 With Maps, Plans, etc. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Stephens. A HISTORY OF THE 
 FRENCH REVOLUTION. By H. MORSE 
 STEPHENS. 8vo. Vols. I. and II. 185. each. 
 
 Sternberg. MY EXPERIENCES OF 
 THE BOER WAR. By ADALBERT COUNT 
 STERNBERG. With Preface by Lieut.-Col. 
 
 Stubbs. HISTORY OF THE UNIVER- 
 SITY OF DUBLIN. By J. W. STUBBS. 8vo., 
 
 125. 6d. 
 
 Sutherland.-- THE HISTORY OF AUS- 
 TRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND, from 1606- 
 1900. By ALEXANDER SUTHERLAND, M. A., 
 and GEORGE SUTHERLAND, M.A. Crown 
 8vo., 25. 6d. 
 
 Taylor. A STUDENT'S MANUAL OF 
 THE HISTORY OF INDIA. By Colonel MEA- 
 DOWS TAYLOR, C.S.I., etc. Cr. 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 
 Thomson. CHINA AND THE Po IVERS . 
 
 a Narrative of the Outbreak of 1900. By 
 H. C. THOMSON. With 2 Maps and 29 
 Illustrations. 8vo., 105. 6d. net. 
 
 Todd. PARLIAMENTARY GOVERN- 
 MENT IN THE BRITISH COLONIES. Bj 
 ALPHEUS TODD, LL.D. 8vo., 305. net. 
 
 Trevelyan. THE AMERICAN REVO- 
 LUTION. Part I. 1766-1776. By Sir G. O, 
 TREVELYAN, Bart. 8vo., 165. 
 
 Trevelyan. ENGLAND IN THE Ac*. 
 OP WYCLIFFE. By GEORGE MACAUI.AV 
 TREVELYAN. 8vo., 155. 
 
 Wakeman and Hassall. ESSAYS 
 INTRODUCTORY TO THE STUDY OF ExGLish 
 CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY. Edited b> 
 HENRY OFFLEY WAKEMAN, M.A., and 
 ARTHUR HASSALL, M.A. Crown Svo., 65, 
 
 Walpole. HISTORY OF ENGLANL 
 
 FROM THE CONCLUSION OF THE GREA1 
 
 WAR IN 1815 TO 1858. By Sir SPENCEE 
 WALPOLE, K.C.B. 6 vols. Cr. 8vo.. 65. each 
 
 Wylie (JAMES HAMILTON, M.A.). 
 
 HISTORY OF ENGLAND UNDE* 
 HENRY IV. 4 vols. Crown Svo. Vol. 
 I., 1399-1404, 105. 6d. Vol. II., 1405 
 1406, 155. (out of print}. Vol. III., 1407 
 1411, 155. Vol. IV., 1411-1413, 215. 
 
 THE COUNCIL OF CONSTANCE TO THL
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Biography, Personal Memoirs, &e. 
 
 Bacon. THE LETTERS AND LIFE OF 
 FRANCIS BACON, INCLUDING ALL HIS OC- 
 CASIONAL WORKS. Edited by JAMES SPED- 
 DING. 7 vols. 8vo., j\ 45. 
 
 Bagehot. BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES. 
 By WALTER BAGEHOT. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Blount. THE MEMOIRS OF SIR 
 EDWARD BLOUNT, K.C.B., ETC. Edited 
 by STUART J. REID, Author of ' The Life 
 and Times of Sydney Smith,' etc. With 3 
 Photogravure Plates. 8vo., los. 6d. net. 
 
 Carlyle. THOMAS CARLYLE: A His- 
 tory of his Life. By JAMES ANTHONY 
 FKOUDE. 
 
 1795-1835. 2 vols. Crown 8vo., 75. 
 1834-1881. 2 vols. Crown 8vo., 75. 
 
 Crozier. MY INNER LIFE : being a 
 Chapter in Personal Evolution and Auto- 
 biography. By JOHN BEATTIE CROZIER, 
 LL.D. 8vo., 145. 
 
 Dante. THE LIFE AND WORKS' OF 
 DANTE ALLIGHIERI : being an Introduction 
 to the Study of the ' Divina Commedia'. 
 By the Rev. J. F. HOGAN, D.D. With 
 Portrait. 8vo., 125. 6d. 
 
 Danton. LIFE OF DANTON. By A. 
 H. BEESLY. With Portraits. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 De Bode. THE BARONESS DE BODE, 
 1775-1803. By WILLIAM S. CHILDE-PEM- 
 BERTON. With 4 Photogravure Portraits 
 and other Illustrations. 8vo., gilt top, 
 I2s. 6d. net. 
 
 Duncan. ADMIRAL DUNCAN. By 
 THE EARL OF CAMPERDOWN. With 3 Por- 
 traits. 8vo., 1 6s. 
 
 Erasmus. 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF ERASMUS. 
 By JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE. Crown 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE EPISTLES OF* ERASMUS, from 
 his Earliest Letters to his Fifty-first Year, 
 arranged in Order of Time. English 
 Translations, with a Commentary. By 
 FRANCIS MORGAN NicrfOLS. 8vo., i8s. net. 
 
 Faraday. FARADAY AS A DIS- 
 COVERER. By JOHN TYNDALL. Crown 
 8vo., 3s. 6d, 
 
 Fenelon : his Friends and his 
 Enemies, 1651-1715. By E. K. SANDERS. 
 With Portrait. 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 Foreign Courts and Foreign 
 
 Homes. By A. M. F. Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 Fox. THE EARLY HISTORY OF 
 CHARLES JAMES Fox. By the Right Hon. 
 Sir G. O. TREVELYAN, Bart. 
 
 Library Edition. 8vo., i8i. 
 
 Cheap Edition. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Granville. SOME RECORDS OF THE 
 LATER LIFE OF HARRIET, COUNTESS 
 GRANVILLE. By her Granddaughter, the 
 Hon. Mrs. OLDFIELD. With 17 Portraits. 
 8vo., gilt top, 16s. net. 
 
 Grey. MEMOIR OF SIR GEORGE 
 GREY, BART, G.C.B., 1799-1882. By 
 MANDELL CREIGHTON, D. D., late Lord 
 Bishop of London. With 3 Portraits. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. net. 
 
 Hamilton. LIFE OF SIR WILLIAM 
 HAMILTON. By R. P. GRAVES. 8vo. 3 vols. 
 155. each. ADDENDUM. 8vo., 6d. sewed. 
 
 Harrow School Register (The), 
 
 1801-1900. Second Edition, 1901. Edited 
 by M. G. DAUGLISH, *Barrister-at-Law. 
 8vo. 155. net. 
 
 Havelock. MEMOIRS OF SIR HENRY 
 HAVELOCK, K.C.B. By JOHN CLARK 
 MARSHMAN. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Haweis. MY MUSICAL LIFE. By the 
 Rev.H.R.HAWEis. With Portrait of Richard 
 Wagner and 3 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 6s. net. 
 
 Hiley. MEMORIES OF HALF A 
 CENTURY. By the Rev. R. W. HILEY, 
 D.D. With Portrait. 8vo., 155. 
 
 Holroyd (MARIA JOSEPHA). 
 THE GIRLHOOD OF MARIA JOSEPHA 
 
 HOLROYD (Lady Stanley of Alderley). 
 
 Recorded in Letters of a Hundred Years 
 
 Ago, from 1776-1796. Edited by J. H. 
 
 ADEANE. With 6 Portraits. 8vo., i8s. 
 THE EARLY MARRIED LIFE OF 
 
 MARIA JOSEPHA, LADY STANLEY OF 
 
 ALDERLEY, FROM 1796. Edited by J. H. 
 
 ADEANE. With 10 Portraits, etc. 8vo.,i8s. 
 
 Hunter. THE LIFE OF SIR WILLIAM 
 WILSON HUNTER, K.C.S.I., M.A., LL.D, 
 Author of ' A History of British India,' etc. 
 By FRANCIS HENRY SKRINE, F.S.S. With 
 6 Portraits (2 Photogravures) and 4 other 
 Illustrations. 8vo., i6s. net. 
 
 Jackson. STONEWALL JACKSON AND 
 THEAMERiCANCiviL WAR. By Lieut.-Col. 
 G. F. R. HENDERSON. With 2 Portraits and 
 33 Maps and Plans. 2 vols. Cr. 8vo., i6s. net.
 
 io MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Biography, Personal Memoirs, &e. continued. 
 
 Leslie. THE LIFE AND CAMPAIGNS \ Powys. PASSAGES FROMTHEDIARIES 
 OF ALEXANDER LESLIE, FIRST EARL OF \ OF MRS. PHILIP LYBBE POWYS, OF HARD- 
 LEVEN. By CHARLES SANFORD TERRY,; WICK HOUSE, OXON. 1756-1808. Edited by 
 M.A. With Maps and Plans. 8vo., i6s. EMILY J. CLIMENSON. 8vo., gilt top, i6s. 
 
 Luther. LIFE OF LUTHER. By I Ramakr/shna : His LIFE AND 
 
 JULIUS KOSTLIN. With 62 Illustrations SAYINGS. By the Right Hon. F. MAX 
 and 4 Facsimilies of MSS. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. MULLER. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Macaulay. THE LIFE AND LETTERS 
 OF LORD MACAULAY. By the Right Hon. 
 Sir G. O. TREVELYAN, Bart. 
 
 Pupular Edition, i vol. Cr. 8vo., 2s. 6d. 
 
 Student's Edition i vol. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Cabinet Edition, i vols. Post 8vo., 125. 
 
 ' Edinburgh ' Edition. 2 vols. 8vo. ,6s. each. 
 
 Library Edition. 2 vols. 8vo., 365. 
 
 Martineau. /^ji/.s MARTINEAU. A 
 
 Biography and Study. By A. W. JACKSON, 
 A. M., of Concord, Massachusetts. With 2 
 Portraits. 8vo., i2s. 6d. 
 
 Max Miiller(R) 
 
 MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY : a Fragment. 
 With 6 Portraits. 8vo., i2s. 6d. 
 
 AULD LANG SYN&. Second Series. 
 8vo., los. 6d. 
 
 CHIPS FROM A GERMAN WORKSHOP. 
 Vol. II. Biographical Essays. Cr. 8vo., 55. 
 
 M e a d e. GENERAL SIR RICHARD 
 MEADS AND THE FEUDATORY STATES OF 
 CENTRAL AND SOUTHERN INDIA. By 
 THOMAS HENRY THORNTON. With Portrait, 
 Map and Illustrations. 8vo., IDS. 6d. net. 
 
 Morris. THE LIFE OF WILLIAM 
 MORRIS. By J. W. MACKAIL. With 2 Por- 
 traits and 8 other Illustrations by E. H. NEW, 
 etc. 2 vols. Large Crown 8vo., IDS. net. 
 
 On the Banks of the Seine. By 
 
 A. M. F., Authoress of ' Foreign Courts and 
 Foreign Homes'. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Paget. MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF 
 SIR JAMES PAGET. Edited by STEPHEN 
 PAGET, one of his sons. With 6 Portraits 
 (3 Photogravures) and 4 other Illustrations. 
 8vo., I2S. 6d. net. 
 
 Pearson. CHARLES HENRY PEAR- 
 
 SOAr.Author of 'National Life and Character'. 
 Memorials by Himself, his Wife, and his 
 Friends. Edited by WILLIAM STEBBING. 
 With a Portrait. 8vo., 145. 
 
 Rich. MARY RICH, COUNTESS OF 
 WARWICK (1625-1678) : Her Family and 
 Friends. By C. FELL SMITH. With 7 
 Photogravure Portraits and 9 other Illustra- 
 tions. 8vo., gilt top, i8s. net. 
 
 Romanes. THE LIFE AND LETTERS 
 OF GEORGE JOHN ROMANES, M.A., LL.D 
 F.R.S. Written and Edited by his WIFE. 
 With Portrait and 2 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 
 5s. net. 
 
 l. - SWALLOWFIELD AND ITS 
 OWNERS. By CONSTANCE LADY RUSSELL, 
 of Swallowfield Park. With 15 Photogravure 
 Portraits and 36 other Illustrations. 410., 
 gilt edges, 425. net. 
 
 Seebohm. THEOXFORD REFORMERS 
 JOHN COLET, ERASMUS, AND THOMAS 
 MORE : a History of their Fellow- Work. 
 By FREDERIC SEEBOHM. 8vo., 145. 
 
 Shakespeare. OUTLINES OF THE 
 LIFE OP SHAKESPEARE. By J. O. HALLI- 
 WELL-PHILLIPPS. With Illustrations and 
 Facsimiles. 2 vols. Royal 8vo., 2 is. 
 
 Tales of my Father. By A. M. F., 
 
 Author of ' Foreign Courts and Foreign 
 Homes,' and ' On the Banks of the Seine '. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Tallentyre. THE WOMEN OF THE 
 
 SALONS, and other French Portraits. By 
 S. G. TALLENTYRE. With n Photogravure 
 Portraits. 8vo., los. 6d. net. 
 
 Victoria, Queen, 1819-1901. By 
 
 RICHARD R. HOLMES, M.V.O., F.S.A., Lib- 
 rarian to the Queen. With Photogravure 
 Portrait. Crown 8vo., gilt top, 55. net. 
 
 Walpole. SOME UNPUBLISHED 
 LETTERS OF HORACE WALPOLE. Edited 
 by Sir SPENCER WALPOLE, K.C.B. With 
 2 Portraits. Crown 8vo., 45. 6d. net. 
 
 Place. THE LIFE OF FRANCIS PLACED : Wellington. LIFE OF THE DUKE 
 1771-1854. By GRAHAM WALLAS, M.A. ! OP WELLINGTON. By the Rev. G. R. 
 With 2 Portraits. 8vo., 125. GLEIG, M.A. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Travel and Adventure, the Colonies, &e. 
 
 Arnold. SEAS AND LANDS. By Sir 
 EDWIN ARNOLD. With 71 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Baker (Sir S. W.). 
 
 EIGHT YEARS IN CEYLON. With 6 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. bd. 
 
 THE RIFLE AND THE HOUND IN 
 CEYLON. With 6 Illusts. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Ball GOHN). 
 
 THE ALPINE GUIDE. Reconstructed 
 and Revised on behalf of the Alpine Club, 
 by W. A. B. COOLIDGE. 
 Vol. I., THE WESTERN ALPS : the Alpine 
 Region, South of the Rhone Valley, 
 from the Col de Tenda to the Simplon 
 Pass. With 9 New and Revised Maps. 
 Crown 8vo., i2s. net. 
 
 HINTS AND NOTES, PRACTICAL AND 
 SCIENTIFIC, FOR TRAVELLERS IN THE 
 ALPS : being a Revision of the General 
 Introduction to the ' Alpine Guide '. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. net. 
 
 Bent. THE RUINED CITIES OF MA- 
 SHONALAND : being a Record of Excavation 
 and Exploration in 1891. By J. THEODORE 
 BENT. With 117 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Brassey (The Late Lady). 
 
 A VOYAGE IN THE ' SUNBEAM ' ; OUR 
 
 HOME ON THE OCEAN FOR ELEVEN 
 
 MONTHS. 
 
 Cabinet Edition. With Map and 66 Illus- 
 trations. Cr. 8vo., gilt edges, 75. 6d. 
 
 ' Silver Library ' Edition. With 66 Illus- 
 trations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Popular Edition. With 60 Illustrations. 
 4to., 6d. sewed, is. cloth. 
 
 School Edition. With 37 Illustrations. 
 Fcp., 2s. cloth, or 35. white parchment. 
 
 SUNSHINE AND ST&RM IN THE EAST. 
 Popular Edition. With 103 Illustrations. 
 4to., 6d. sewed, is. cloth. 
 
 IN THE TRADES, THE TROPICS, AND 
 THE ' ROARING FORTIES '. 
 Cabinet Edition. With Map and 220 Illus- 
 trations. Cr. 8vo., gilt edges, 75. 6d. 
 
 Crawford. SOUTH AMERICAN 
 SKETCHES. By ROBERT CRAWFORD, M.A. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Fountain. THE GREAT DESERTS 
 AND FORESTS OF NORTH AMERICA. By 
 PAUL FOUNTAIN. With a Preface by W. 
 H. HUDSON, Author of 'The Naturalist in 
 La Plata,' etc. 8vo., gs. 6d. net. 
 
 Froude (JAMES A.). 
 
 OCEANA : or England and her Col- 
 onies. With 9 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo.,3s. dd. 
 
 THE ENGLISH IN THE WEST INDIES : 
 or, the Bow of Ulysses. With 9 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo., 2s. boards, 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Grove. SEVENTY-ONE DAYS' CAMP- 
 ING IN MOROCCO. By Lady GROVE. With 
 Photogravure Portrait and 32 Illustrations 
 from Photographs. 8vo., 75. fid. net. 
 
 Haggard. A WINTER PILGRIMAGE : 
 
 Being an Account of Travels through 
 Palestine, Italy and the Island of Cyprus, 
 undertaken in the year 1900. By H. RIDER 
 HAGGARD. With 31 Illustrations from Photo- 
 graphs. Cr. 8vo., gilt top, las. 6d. net. 
 
 Heathcote. ST. KILDA. By NOR- 
 MAN HEATHCOTE. With 80 Illustrations 
 from Sketches and Photographs of the 
 People, Scenery and Birds by the Author. 
 8vo., IDS. 6ff. net. 
 
 Howitt. VISITS TO REMARKABLE 
 PLACES. Old Halls, Battle-Fields, Scenes, 
 illustrative of Striking Passages in English 
 History and Poetry. By WILLIAM HOWITT. 
 With 80 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Knight (E. F.). 
 
 WITH THE ROYAL TOUR : a Narra- 
 tive of the Recent Tour of the Duke and 
 Duchess of Cornwall and York through 
 Greater Britain. With 16 Illustrations 
 and a Map. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE ' ALERTE ' : the 
 Narrative of a Search for Treasure on the 
 Desert Island of Trinidad. With 2 Maps 
 and 23 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 WHERE THREE EMPIRES MEET: a 
 Narrative of Recent Travel in Kashmir, 
 Western Tibet, Baltistan, Ladak, Gilgit, 
 and the adjoining Countries. With a 
 Map and 54 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE ' FALCON' ON THE BALTIC: a 
 Voyage from London to Copenhagen in 
 a Three-Tonner. With 10 Full-page 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d.
 
 12 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Travel and Adventure, the Colonies, &e. continued. 
 
 Lees. PEAKS AND PINES: another 
 
 Norway Book. By J. A. LEES. With 63 
 Illustrations and Photographs. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Lees and Clutterbuck. B.C. 1887 : 
 
 A RAMBLE IN BRITISH COLUMBIA. By J. A. 
 LEES and W. J. CLUTTERBUCK. With Map 
 and 75 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Lynch. ARMENIA : Travels and 
 Studies. By H. F. B. LYNCH. With 197 
 Illustrations (some in tints) reproduced 
 from Photographs and Sketches by the 
 Author, 16 Maps and Plans, a Bibliography, 
 and a Map of Armenia and adjacent 
 countries. 2 vols. Medium 8vo., gilt top, 
 425. net. 
 
 Nansen. THE FIRST CROSSING OF 
 GREENLAND. By FRIDTJOF NANSEN. With 
 143 Illustrations and a Map. Crown 8vo., 
 3*. 6d. 
 
 Rice. OCCASIONAL ESSAYS ON NA- 
 TIVE SOUTH INDIAN LIFE. By STANLEY 
 P. RICE, Indian Civil Service. 8vo., zos. 6d. 
 
 Smith- CLIMBING IN THE BRITISH 
 ISLES. By W. P. HASKETT SMITH. With 
 Illustrations and Numerous Plans. 
 
 Part I. ENGLAND. i6mo., 35. net. 
 
 Part II. WALES AND IRELAND. i6mo., 
 35. net. 
 
 Spender. Two WINTERS IN NOR- 
 
 WA Y : being an Account of Two Holidays 
 spent on Snow-shoes and in Sleigh Driving, 
 and including an Expedition to the Lapps, 
 By A. EDMUND SPENDER. With 40 Illustra- 
 tions from Photographs. 8vo., IQS. 6d. net. 
 
 Stephen. THE PLAY-GROUND OF 
 EUROPE (The Alps). By Sir LESLIE 
 STEPHEN, K.C.B. With 4 Illustrations, 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Three in Norway. By Two of 
 
 Them. With a Map and 59 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 2s. boards, 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Tyndall. (JOHN). 
 
 THE GLACIERS OF THE ALPS. With 
 61 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 6s. 6d. net. 
 
 HOURS OF EXERCISE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 With 7 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 6d. net. 
 
 Sport and Pastime. 
 
 THE BADMINTON LIBRARY. 
 
 Edited by HIS GRACE THE (EIGHTH) DUKE OF BEAUFORT, K.G., 
 and A. E. T. WATSON. 
 
 ARCHER Y. By C. J. LONGMAN and 
 Col. H. WALROND. With Contributions by 
 Miss LEGH, Viscount DILLON, etc. With 
 2 Maps, 23 Plates and 172 Illustrations in 
 the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; half- 
 bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 ATHLETICS. By MONTAGUE 
 SHEARMAN. With Chapters on Athletics 
 at School by W. BEACHER THOMAS ; Ath- 
 letic Sports in America by C. H. SHERRILL ; 
 a Contribution on Paper-chasing by W. RYE, 
 and an Introduction by Sir RICHARD WEB- 
 STER (Lord ALVERSTONE). With 12 Plates 
 and 37 Illustrations in the Text. Cr. 8vo., 
 cloth, 6s. net ; half-bound,with gilt top.gs.net. 
 
 BIG GAME SHOOTING. 
 CLIVE PHILLIPPS-WOLLEY. 
 
 By 
 
 Vol. I. AFRICA AND AMERICA. 
 With Contributions by Sir SAMUEL W. 
 BAKER, W. C. OSWELL, F. C. SELOUS, 
 etc. With 20 Plates and 57 Illustrations 
 in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net; 
 half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 Vol. II. EUROPE, ASIA, AND THE 
 ARCTIC REGIONS. With Contribu- 
 tions by Lieut. -Colonel R. HEBER 
 PERCY, Major ALGERNON C. HEBER 
 PERCY, etc. With 17 Plates and 56 Illus- 
 trations in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 
 6s. net ; half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Sport and Pastime continued. 
 
 THE BADMINTON LIBRARY continued. 
 
 Edited by HIS GRACE THE (EIGHTH) DUKE OF BEAUFORT, K.G., 
 and A. E. T. WATSON. 
 
 BILLIARDS. By Major W. BROAD- 
 FOOT, R.E. With Contributions by A. H. 
 BOYD, SYDENHAM DIXON, W. J. FORD, etc. 
 With ii Plates, ig Illustrations in the Text, 
 and numerous Diagrams. Crown 8vo., cloth, 
 6s. net ; half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 COURSING AND FALCONRY. 
 By HARDING Cox, CHARLES RICHARDSON, 
 and the Hon. GERALD LASCELLES. With 
 20 Plates and 55 Illustrations in the Text. 
 Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net; half-bound, with 
 gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 CRICKET. By A. G. STEEL and 
 the Hon. R. H. LYTTELTON. With Con- 
 tributions by ANDREW LANG, W. G. GRACE, 
 F. GALE, etc. With 13 Plates and 52 Illus- 
 trations in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. 
 net ; half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 CYCLING. By the EARL OF ALBE- 
 MARLE and G. LACY HILLIER. With ig 
 Plates and 44 Illustrations in the Text. 
 Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net; half-bound, with 
 gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 DANCING. By Mrs. LILLY GROVE. 
 With Contributions by Miss MIDDLETON, 
 The Hon. Mrs. ARMYTAGE, etc. With 
 Musical Examples, and 38 Full-page Plates 
 and g3 Illustrations in the Text. Crown 
 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; half-bound, with gilt 
 top, gs. net. 
 
 DRIVING. By His Grace the (Eighth) 
 DUKE of BEAUFORT, K.G. With Contribu- 
 tions by A. E. T. WATSON the EARL OF 
 ONSLOW, etc. With 12 Plates and 54 Illus- 
 trations in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. 
 net ; half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 FENCING, BOXING, AND 
 WRESTLING. By WALTER H. POLLOCK, 
 F. C. GROVE, C. PREVOST, E. B. MITCHELL, 
 and WALTER ARMSTRONG. With 18 Plates 
 and 24 Illustrations in the Text. Crown 
 8vo., cloth, 6s. net; half-bound, with gilt 
 top, gs. net. 
 
 FISHING. By H. CHOLMONDELEY- 
 PENNELL. 
 
 Vol. I. SALMON AND TROUT. With 
 Contributions by H. R. FRANCIS, Major 
 JOHN P. TRAHERNE, etc. With g Plates 
 and numerous Illustrations of Tackle, etc. 
 Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; half-bound, 
 with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 Vol. II. PIKE AND OTHER COARSE 
 FISH. With Contributions by the 
 MARQUIS OF EXETER, WILLIAM SENIOR, 
 G. CHRISTOPHER DAVIS, etc. With 
 7 Plates and numerous Illustrations 01 
 Tackle, etc. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; 
 half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 FOOTBALL. HISTORY, by MON- 
 TAGUE SHEARMAN ; THE ASSOCIATION 
 GAME, by W. J. OAKLEY and G. O. SMITH ; 
 THE RUGBY UNION GAME, by FRANK 
 MITCHELL. With other Contributions by 
 R. E. MACNAGHTEN, M. C. KEMP, J. E. 
 VINCENT, WALTER CAMP and A. SUTHER- 
 LAND. With ig Plates and 35 Illustrations 
 in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; 
 half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 GOLF. By HORACE G. HUTCHINSON. 
 With Contributions by the Rt. Hon. A. J. 
 BALFOUR, M.P., Sir WALTER SIMPSON, Bart., 
 ANDREW LANG, etc. With 34 Plates and 56 
 Illustrations in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 
 6s. net ; half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 HUNTING. By His Grace the 
 (Eighth) DUKE OF BEAUFORT, K.G., and 
 MOWBRAY MORRIS. With Contributions by 
 the EARL OF SUFFOLK AND BERKSHIRE, 
 Rev. E. W. L. DAVIES, G. H. LONGMAN, 
 etc. With 5 Plates and 54 Illustrations in 
 the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; half- 
 bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 MOTORS AND MOTOR-DRIV- 
 ING. By ALFRED C. HARMSWORTH, the 
 MARQUIS DE CHASSELOUP-LAUBAT, the 
 Hon. JOHN SCOTT-MONTAGU, R. J. ME- 
 CREDY, the Hon. C. S. ROLLS, Sir DAVID 
 SALOMONS, Bart., etc. With 13 Plates and 
 136 Illustrations in the Text. Crown 8vo., 
 cloth, gs. net ; half-bound, las. net. 
 A Cloth Box for use when Motoring, 2s. net
 
 i 4 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Sport and Pastime continued. 
 
 THE BADMINTON LIBRARY continued. 
 
 Edited by HIS GRACE THE (EIGHTH) DUKE OF BEAUFORT, K.G., 
 and A. E. T. WATSON. 
 
 MOUNTAINEERING. By C. T. SEA FISHING. By JOHN BICKER- 
 
 DENT. With Contributions by the Right 
 Hon. J. BRYCE, M.P., Sir MARTIN CONWAY, 
 D. W. FRESHFIELD, C. E. MATTHEWS, etc. 
 With 13 Plates and 91 Illustrations in the 
 Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 65. net ; half- 
 bound, with gilt top, 95. net. 
 
 POETRY OF SPORT (THE}. 
 
 Selected by HEDLEY PEEK. With a 
 Chapter on Classical Allusions to Sport by 
 ANDREW LANG, and a Special Preface to 
 the BADMINTON LIBRARY by A. E. T. 
 WATSON. With 32 Plates and 74 Illustra- 
 tions in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. 
 net ; half-bound, with gilt top, 95. net. 
 
 RACING AND STEEPLE-CHAS- 
 ING. By the EARL OF SUFFOLK AND 
 BERKSHIRE, W. G. CRAVEN, the Hon. F. 
 LAWLEY, ARTHUR COVENTRY, and A. E. T. 
 WATSON. With Frontispiece and 56 Illus- 
 trations in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. 
 net ; half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 RIDING AND POLO. By Captain 
 ROBERT WEIR, J. MORAY BROWN, T. F. 
 DALE, THE LATE DUKE OF BEAUFORT, THE 
 EARL OF SUFFOLK AND BERKSHIRE, etc. 
 With 18 Plates and 41 Illusts. in the Text. 
 Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; half-bound, 
 with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 ROWING. By R. P. P. ROWE and 
 C. M. PITMAN. With Chapters on Steering 
 by C. P. SEROCOLD and F. C. BEGG ; Met- 
 ropolitan Rowing by S. LE BLANC SMITH ; 
 and on PUNTING by P. W. SQUIRE. With 
 75 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; 
 half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 SHOOTING. 
 
 Vol. I. FIELD AND COVERT. By LORD 
 WALSINGHAM and Sir RALPH PAYNE- 
 GALLWEY, Bart. With Contributions by 
 the Hon. GERALD LASCELLES and A. J. 
 STUART-WORTLEY. With ii Plates and 
 g5 Illustrations in the Text. Crown 8vo., 
 cloth, 6s. net ; half-bound, with gilt top, 
 gs. net. 
 
 Vol. II. MOOR AND MARSH. By 
 LORD WALSINGHAM and Sir RALPH PAYNE- 
 GALLWEY, Bart. With Contributions by 
 LORD LOVAT and Lord CHARLES LENNOX 
 KERR. With 8 Plates and 57 Illustrations 
 in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; 
 half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 DYKE, Sir H. W. GORE-BOOTH, ALFRED 
 C. HARMSWORTH, and W. SENIOR. With 22 
 Full-page Plates and 175 Illusts. in the Text. 
 Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; half-bound, with 
 gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 SKATING, CURLING, TOBOG- 
 GANING. By J. M. HEATHCOTE, C. G. 
 TEBBUTT, T. MAXWELL WITHAM, Rev. 
 JOHN KERR, ORMOND HAKE, HENRY A. 
 BUCK, etc. With 12 Plates and 272 Illus- 
 trations in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. 
 net ; half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 SWIMMING. By ARCHIBALD SIN- 
 CLAIR and WILLIAM HENRY, Hon. Sees, of the 
 Life-Saving Society. With 13 Plates and 112 
 Illustrations in the Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 
 6s. net ; half-bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 TENNIS, LA WN TENNIS, 
 RACKETS AND FIVES. By J. M. and 
 C. G. HEATHCOTE, E. O. PLEYDELL-BOU- 
 VERiE,andA. C.AINGER. With Contributions 
 by the Hon. A. LYTTELTON, \V. C. MAR- 
 SHALL, Miss L. DOD, etc. With 12 Plates and 
 67 Illustrations in the Text. Crown 8vo., 
 cloth, 6s. net; half-bound, with gilt top, 
 gs. net. 
 
 YACHTING. 
 
 Vol. I. CRUISING, CONSTRUCTION 
 OF YACHTS, YACHT RACING 
 RULES, FITTING-OUT, etc. By Sir 
 EDWARD SULLIVAN, Bart., THE EARL OF 
 PEMBROKE, LORD BRASSEY, K.C.B., C. 
 E. SETH-SMITH, C.B., G. L. WATSON, R. 
 T. PRITCHETT, E. F. KNIGHT, etc. With 
 21 Plates and 93 Illustrations in the 
 Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. net ; half- 
 bound, with gilt top, gs. net. 
 
 Vol. II. YACHT CLUBS, YACHT- 
 ING IN AMERICA AND THE 
 COLONIES, YACHT RACING, etc. 
 By R. T. PRITCHETT, THE MARQUIS OF 
 
 DUFFERIN AND AvA, K.P., THE EARL OF 
 
 ONSLOW, JAMES MCFERRAN, etc. With 
 35 Plates and 160 Illustrations in the 
 Text. Crown 8vo., cloth, gs. net ; half- 
 bound, with gilt top, gs. net.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Sport and Pastime continued. 
 FUR, FEATHER, AND FIN SERIES. 
 
 Edited by A. E. T. WATSON. 
 
 Crown 8vo., price 55. each Volume, cloth. 
 
 *^* The Volumes are also issued half-bound in Leather, with gilt top. Price 75. 6d. net each. 
 
 THE PARTRIDGE. Natural His- 
 tory, by the Rev. H. A. MACPHERSON ; 
 Shooting, by A. J. STUART-WORTLEY ; 
 Cookery, by GEORGE SAINTSBURY. With 
 ii Illustrations and various Diagrams in 
 the Text. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 THE GROUSE. Natural History, by 
 the Rev. H. A. MACPHERSON; Shooting, 
 by A. J. STUART-WORTLEY; Cookery, by 
 GEORGE SAINTSBURY. With 13 Illustrations 
 and various Diagrams in the Text. Crown 
 8vo., 55. 
 
 THE PHEASANT. Natural History, 
 by the Rev. H. A. MACPHERSON ; Shooting, 
 by A. J. STUART-WORTLEY ; Cookery, by 
 ALEXANDER INNES SHAND. With 10 Illus- 
 trations and various Diagrams. Crown 
 8vo., 55. 
 
 THE HARE. Natural History, by 
 the Rev. H. A. MACPHERSON ; Shooting, 
 by the Hon. GERALD LASCELLES ; Coursing, 
 by CHARLES RICHARDSON ; Hunting, by J. 
 S. GIBBONS and G. H. LONGMAN ; Cookery, 
 by Col. KENNEY HERBERT. With 9 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 RED DEER. Natural History, by 
 the Rev. H. A. MACPHERSON ; Deer Stalk- 
 ing, by CAMERON OF LOCHIEL ; Stag 
 Hunting, by Viscount EBRINGTON ; 
 Cookery, by ALEXANDER INNES SHAND. 
 With 10 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 THE SALMON. By the Hon. A. E. 
 GATHORNE-HARDY. With Chapters on the 
 Law of Salmon Fishing by CLAUD DOUGLAS 
 PENNANT ; Cookery, by ALEXANDER INNES 
 SHAND. With 8 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 55. 
 
 THE TROUT. By the MARQUESS 
 OF GRANBY. With Chapters on the Breed- 
 ing of Trout by Col. H. CUSTANCE ; and 
 Cookery, by ALEXANDER INNES SHAND. 
 With 12 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 THE RABBIT. By JAMES EDMUND 
 HARTING. Cookery, by ALEXANDER INNES 
 SHAND. With 10 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 55. 
 
 PIKE AND PERCH. By WILLIAM 
 
 SENIOR (' Redspinner,' Editor of the 
 ' Field'). With Chapters by JOHN BICKER- 
 DYKE and W. H. POPE ; Cookery, by 
 ALEXANDER INNES SHAND. With 12 Il- 
 lustrations. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Alverstone and Alcock. SURREY 
 
 CRICKET: its History and Associations. 
 Edited by the Right Hon. LORD ALVER- 
 STONE, L.C.J., President, and C.W. ALCOCK, 
 Secretary, of the Surrey County Cricket 
 Club. With 48 Illustrations. 8vo., i6s. net. 
 
 Bickerdyke. DAX.S OF MY LIFE ON 
 WATER, FRESH AND SALT; and other 
 Papers. By JOHN BICKERDYKE. With 
 Photo-etching Frontispiece and 8 Full-page 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Blackburne. MR. BLACKBURNE s 
 GAMES AT CHESS. Selected, Annotated 
 and Arranged by Himself. Edited, with a 
 Biographical Sketch and a brief History of 
 Blindfold Chess, by P. ANDERSON GRAHAM. 
 With Portrait of Mr. Blackburne. 8vo., 
 75. 6d. net. 
 
 Dead Shot (The) : or, Sportsman's 
 Complete Guide. Being a Treatise on the Use 
 of the Gun, with Rudimentary and Finishing 
 Lessons in the Art of Shooting Game of all 
 kinds. Also Game-driving, Wildfowl and 
 Pigeon-shooting, Dog-breaking, etc. By 
 MARKSMAN. With numerous Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 Ellis. CHESS SPARKS ; or, Short and 
 Bright Games of Chess. Collected and 
 Arranged by J. H. ELLIS, M. A. 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 Folkard. THE WILD-FOWLER : A 
 Treatise on Fowling, Ancient and Modern, 
 descriptive also of Decoys and Flight-ponds, 
 Wild-fowl Shooting, Gunning-punts, Shoot- 
 ing-yachts, etc. Also Fowling in the Fens 
 and in Foreign Countries, Rock-fowling, 
 etc., etc., by H. C. FOLKARD. With 13 En- 
 gravings on Steel, and several Woodcuts. 
 8vo., i2i. 6d.
 
 i6 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Sport and Pastime continued. 
 
 Ford. MIDDLESEX COUNTY CRICKET 
 CLUB, 1864-1899. Written and Compiled 
 by W. J. FORD (at the request of the Com- 
 mittee of the County C.C.). With Frontis- 
 piece Portrait of Mr. V. E. Walker. 8vo., 
 los. net. 
 
 Ford. THE THEORY AND PRACTICE 
 OP ARCHERY. By HORACE FORD. New 
 Edition, thoroughly Revised and Re-written 
 by W. BUTT, M.A. With a Preface by C. 
 J. LONGMAN, M.A. 8vo., 145. 
 
 Francis. A BOOK ON ANGLING : or, 
 
 Treatise on the Art of Fishing in every 
 Branch ; including full Illustrated List of Sal- 
 mon Flies. By FRANCIS FRANCIS. With Por- 
 trait and Coloured Plates. Crown 8vo., iss. 
 
 Fremantle. THE BOOK OF THE 
 RIFLE. By the Hon. T. F. FREMANTLE, 
 V.D., Major, ist Bucks V.R.C. With 54 
 Plates and 107 Diagrams in the Text. 8vo., 
 125. bd. net. 
 
 Gathorne - Hardy. AUTUMNS IN 
 ARGYLESHIRE WITH ROD AND GUN. By 
 the Hon. A. E. GATHORNE-HARDY. With 
 8 Photogravure Illustrations by ARCHIBALD 
 THORBURN. 8vo., 6s. net. 
 
 Graham. COUNTRY PASTIMES FOR 
 
 BOYS. By P. ANDERSON GRAHAM. With 
 252 Illustrations from Drawings and 
 Photographs. Cr. 8vo., gilt edges, 35. net. 
 
 Hutchinson. THE BOOK OF GOLF 
 AND GOLFERS. By HORACE G. HUTCHIN- 
 SON. With Contributions by Miss AMY 
 PASCOE, H. H. HILTON, J. H. TAYLOR. H 
 J. WHIGHAM, and Messrs. SUTTON & SONS. 
 With 71 Portraits from Photographs. Large 
 crown 8vo., gilt top, 75. 6d. net. 
 
 Lang. ANGLING SKETCHES. By 
 ANDREW LANG. With 20 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Lillie (ARTHUR). 
 
 CROQUET: its History, Rules and 
 Secrets. With 4 Full-page Illustrations, 
 15 Illustrations in the Text, and 27 Dia- 
 grams. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 CROQUET UP TO DATE. Contain- 
 ing the Ideas and Teachings of the 
 Leading Players and Champions. With 
 Contributions by Lieut.-Col. the Hon. H. 
 NEEDHAM, C. D. LOCOCK, etc. With 19 
 Illustrations (15 Portraits), and numerous 
 Diagrams. 8vo.. ros. 6d. net. 
 
 Locock. SIDE AND SCREW: being 
 Notes on the Theory and Practice of the 
 Game of Billiards. By C. D. LOCOCK. 
 With Diagrams. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Longman. CHESS OPENINGS. By 
 
 FREDERICK W. LONGMAN. Fcp. 8vo., 2s. f>d. 
 
 Mackenzie. NOTES FOR HUNTING 
 MEN. By Captain CORTLANDT GORDON 
 MACKENZIE. Crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 Madden. THE DIARY OF MASTER 
 WILLIAM SILENCE : a Study of Shakespeare 
 and of Elizabethan Sport. By the Right 
 Hon. D. H. MADDEN, Vice-Chancellor of the 
 University of Dublin. 8vo., gilt top, 165. 
 
 Maskelyne. SHARPS AND FLATS : a 
 Complete Revelation of the Secrets of 
 Cheating at Games of Chance and Skill. By 
 JOHN NEVIL MASKELYNE, of the Egyptian 
 Hall. With 62 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Millais. THE WILD-FOWLER IN 
 SCOTLAND. By JOHN GUILLE MILLAIS, 
 F.Z.S., etc. With a Frontispiece in Photo- 
 gravure by Sir J. E. MILLAIS, Bart., P.R.A., 
 8 Photogravure Plates, 2 Coloured Plates and 
 50 Illustrations from the Author's Drawings 
 and from Photographs. Royal 4to., gilt top, 
 305. net. 
 
 Modern Bridge. By Slam '. With 
 
 a Reprint of the Laws of Bridge, as adopted 
 by the Portland and Turf Clubs. i8mo., 
 gilt edges, 35. 6d. net. 
 
 Park. THE GAM OF GOLF. By 
 WILLIAM PARK, Jun., Champion Golfer, 
 1887-89. With 17 Plates and 26 Illustra- 
 tions in the Text. Crown 8vo., 71. 6d. 
 
 Payne-Gallwey (Sir RALPH, Bart.). 
 
 LETTERS TO YOUNG SHOOTERS (First 
 Series). On the Choice and use of a Gun. 
 With 41 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 
 LETTERS TO YOUNG SHOO TERs(Second 
 Series). On the Production, Preservation, 
 and Killing of Game. With Directions 
 in Shooting Wood-Pigeons and Breaking- 
 in Retrievers. With Portrait and 103 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., I2s. 6d. 
 
 LETTERS TO YOUNG SHOOTERS. 
 (Third Series.) Comprising a Short 
 Natural History of the Wildfowl that 
 are Rare or Common to the British 
 Islands, with complete directions in 
 Shooting Wildfowl on the Coast and 
 Inland. With 200 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo., 1 8s.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Sport and Pastime continued. 
 
 Pole.' THE THEORY OF THE MODERN 
 SCIENTIFIC GAME OF WHIST. By WILLIAM- 
 POLE, F.R.S. Fcp. 8vo., gilt edges, 2s. net. 
 
 Proctor. How TO PLAY WHIST: 
 
 WITH THE LAWS AND ETIQUETTE OF 
 
 WHIST. By RICHARD A. PROCTOR. Crown 
 8vo., gilt edges, 35. net. 
 
 Ronalds. THE FLY-FISHER'S ENTO- 
 MOLOGY. By ALL-RED RONALDS. With 20 
 coloured Plates. 8vo., 145. 
 
 Selous. SPORT AND TRAVEL, EAST 
 AND WEST. By FREDERICK COURTENEY 
 SELOUS. With 18 Plates and 35 Illustra- 
 tions in the Text. Medium 8vo., 125. 6d. net. 
 
 Mental, Moral, and Political Philosophy. 
 
 LOGIC, RHETORIC, PSYCHOLOGY, &>C. 
 
 Abbott. THE ELEMENTS OF LOGIC. 
 By T. K. ABBOTT, B.D. i2mo., 35. 
 
 Aristotle. 
 
 THE ETHICS: Greek Text, Illustrated 
 with Essay and Notes. By Sir ALEXAN- 
 DER GRANT, Bart. 2 vols. 8vo., 325. 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION TO ARISTOTLE'S 
 ETHICS. Books I. -IV. (BookX. c.vi.-ix. 
 in an Appendix). With a continuous 
 Analysis and Notes. By the Rev. E. 
 MOORE, D.D. Crown 8vo., xoj. 6d. 
 
 Bacon (FRANCIS). 
 
 COMPLETE WORKS. Edited by R. L. 
 ELLIS, JAMES SPEDDING and D. D. 
 HEATH. 7 vols. 8vo., 3 135. 6d. 
 
 LETTERS AND LIFE, including all his 
 occasional Works. Edited by JAMES 
 SPEDDING. 7 vols. 8vo.,^44-s. 
 
 THE ESSAYS: with Annotations. By 
 RICHARD WHATELY, D.D. 8vo., ios. 6d. 
 
 THE ESSAYS: with Notes. By F. 
 STORR and C. H. GIBSON. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE ESSAYS: with Introduction, 
 Notes, and Index. By E. A. ABBOTT, D.D. 
 2 Vols. Fcp. 8vo.,6s. The Text and Index 
 only, without Introduction and Notes, in 
 One Volume. Fcp. 8vo., zs. 6d. 
 
 Bain (ALEXANDER). 
 
 MENTAL AND MORAL SCIENCE : a 
 Compendium of Psychology and Ethics. 
 Crown 8vo., ios. 6d. 
 
 Or separately, 
 Part I. PSYCHOLOGY AND HISTORY OP 
 
 PHILOSOPHY. Crown 8vo., 6s. 6d. 
 Part 1 1 . THEOR YOF THICS ANDE THICAL 
 
 SYSTEMS. Crown 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 Bain (ALEXANDER) continued. 
 
 LOGIC. Part 1. DEDUCTION. Cr. 8vo., 
 4*. Part II. INDUCTION. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 6d. 
 
 THE SENSES AND THE INTELLECT. 
 8vo., 155. 
 
 THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL. 
 8vo., 155. 
 
 PRACTICAL ESSAYS. Cr. Svo., 2s. 
 
 Bray. THE PHILOSOPHY OF NECES- 
 SITY: or, Law in Mind as in Matter. By 
 CHARLES BRAY. Crown 8vo., 5$. 
 
 Brooks. THE ELEMENTS OF MIND : 
 being an Examination into the Nature of 
 the First Division of the Elementary Sub- 
 stances of Life. By H. JAMYN BROOKS. 
 8vo., 105. 6d. net. 
 
 Crozier (JOHN BEATTIE). 
 
 CIVILISA TION AND PROGRESS : being 
 the Outlines of a New System of Political, 
 Religious and Social Philosophy. 8vo.,i4S. 
 
 HISTORY OF INTELLECTUAL DEVEL- 
 ora/fiAT.-ontheLinesofModernEvolution. 
 Vol. I. 8vo., 145. 
 Vol. II. (In preparation.) 
 Vol. III. 8vo., ios. 6d. 
 
 Davidson. THE LOGIC OF DEFINI- 
 TION, Explained and Applied. By WILLIAM 
 L. DAVIDSON, M.A. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Green (THOMAS HILL). THE WORKS 
 OF. Edited by R. L. NETTLESHIP. 
 
 Vols. I. and II. Philosophical Works. Svo. 
 i6s. each. 
 
 Vol. III. Miscellanies. With Index to the 
 three Volumes, and Memoir. 8vo., 2is. 
 
 LECTURES ON THE PRINCIPLES OF 
 POLITICAL OBLIGATION. With Preface 
 by BERNARD BOSANQUET. 8vo., 55.
 
 i8 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Mental, Moral and Political Philosophy continued. 
 
 LOGIC, RHETORIC, PSYCHOLOGY, &-C. 
 
 Gurnhill. THE MORALS OF SUICIDE, j K i 1 1 i c k. HANDBOOK TO MILL'S 
 By the Rev. J. GURXHII.L, E.A. Crown ! SYSTEM OF LOGIC. By Rev. A. H. 
 8vo., 6s. KILLICK, M.A. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Hodgson (SHADWORTH H.), 
 TIME AND SPACE : A Metaphysical 
 Essay. 8vo., i6s. 
 
 THE THEORY OF PRACTICE: an 
 Ethical Inquiry. 2 vols. 8vo., 245. 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF REFLECTION. 
 
 2 VOls. 8VO., 215. 
 
 THE METAPHYSIC OF EXPERIENCE. 
 Book I. General Analysis of Experience ; 
 Book II. Positive Science; Book III. 
 Analysis of Conscious Action ; Book IV. 
 The Real Universe. 4 vols. 8vo., 365. net. 
 
 Hume. THE PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS 
 OF DAVID HUME. Edited by T. H. GREEN 
 and T. H. GROSE. 4 vols. 8vo., 285. Or 
 separately, ESSAYS. 2 vols. 145. TREATISE 
 OF HUMAN NATURE. 2 vols. 145. 
 
 James (WILLIAM, M.D., LL.D.). 
 
 THE WILL TO BELIEVE, and Other 
 Essays in Popular Philosophy. Crown 
 8vo., 7*. 6d. 
 
 THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS'] EX- 
 PERIENCE : a Study in Human Nature. 
 Being the Gifrbrd Lectures on Natural 
 Religion delivered at Edinburgh in 1901- 
 1902. 8vo., i2s. net. 
 
 Justinian. THE INSTITUTES OF 
 
 JUSTINIAN: Latin Text, chiefly that ot 
 Huschke, with English Introduction, Trans- 
 lation, Notes, and Summary. By THOMAS 
 C. SANDARS, M.A. 8vo., i8s. 
 
 Kant (IMMANUEL). 
 CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON, 
 AND OTHER WORKS ON THE THEORY OP 
 ETHICS. Translated by T. K. ABBOTT, 
 B.D. With Memoir. 8vo., 125. 6d. 
 
 FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES OF THE 
 MBTAPHYSIC OP ETHICS. Translated b> 
 T. K. ABBOTT, B.D. Crown Svo, 35. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO LOGIC, AND HIS 
 ESSAY ON THE MISTAKEN SUBTILTY OP 
 THE FOUR FIGURES. Translated by T. 
 K. ABBOTT. 8vo., f>s 
 
 Kelly. GOVERNMENT OR HUMAN 
 EVOLUTION. By EDMOND KELLY, M.A., 
 F.G.S. Vol. I. Justice. Crown 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 net. Vol. II. Collectivism and Individualism. 
 
 O.rnwn Rvn TOC fi/i n*t 
 
 Ladd (GEORGE TRUMBULL). 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT: a Treatise 
 of the Facts, Principles and Ideals of 
 Ethics. 8vo., 2U. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF PHYSIOLOGICAL PSY- 
 CHOLOGY. 8VO., 2IS. 
 
 OUTLINES OF DESCRIPTIVE PSYCHO- 
 LOGY: a Text-Book of Mental Science for 
 Colleges and Normal Schools. 8vo., 125. 
 
 OUTLINES OF PHYSIOLOGICAL PSY- 
 CHOLOGY. 8VO., 1 21. 
 
 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY. Cr. 8vo., 
 55. 6d. 
 
 Lecky. THE MAP OF LIFE: Con- 
 duct and Character. By WILLIAM EDWARD 
 HARTPOLE LECKY. 
 
 Library Edition, 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 Cabinet Edition, Cr. 8vo., 51. net. 
 
 Leighton. TYPICAL MODERN CON- 
 CEPTIONS OF GOD; or, The Absolute of 
 German Romantic Idealism and of English 
 Evolutionary Agnosticism. With a Con- 
 structive Essay. By JOSEPH ALEXANDER 
 LEIGHTON. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. net. 
 
 Lutoslawski. THE ORIGIN AND 
 GROWTH OP PLATO'S LOGIC. With an 
 Account of Plato's Style and of the Chrono- 
 logy of his Writings. By WINCENTY 
 LUTOSLAWSKI. 8vo., 215. 
 
 Max Mailer (F.). 
 THE SCIENCE OF THOUGHT. 8vo., 215. 
 
 THE Six SYSTEMS OF INDIAN PHIL- 
 OSOPHY. 8vo., 185. 
 
 THREE LECTURES ON THE VEDANTA 
 PHILOSOPHY. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Mill JOHN STUART). 
 A SYSTEM OF LOGIC. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 ON LIBERTY. Crown 8vo., is. ^d. 
 
 CONSIDERATIONS ON REPRESENTA- 
 TIVE GOVERNMENT. Crown 8vo., 2s. 
 
 UTILITARIANISM. 8vo., 2s. 6d. 
 
 EXAMINATION OF SIR WILLIAM 
 
 HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY. 8vo., 165. 
 NATURE, THE UTILITY OF RELIGION,
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Mental, Moral, and Political Philosophy continued. 
 
 LOGIC, RHETORIC, PSYCHOLOGY, &>C. 
 
 Mo nek. AN INTRODUCTION TO Thomas. -INTUITIVE SUGGESTION. 
 
 By J. W. THOMAS, Author of Spiritual Law 
 in the Natural World,' etc. Crown 8vo., 
 35. 6d. net. 
 
 LOGIC. By WILLIAM HENRY S. MONCK, 
 M.A. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Pierce. STUDIES IN AUDITORY AND 
 VISUAL SPACE PERCEPTION: Essays on i 
 Experimental Psychology. By A. H. 
 PIERCE. Crown 8vo., 65. 6d. net. 
 
 Richmond. THE MIND OF A CHILD. 
 
 By ENNIS RICHMOND. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. net. 
 
 Romanes. MIND AND MOTION AND 
 MONISM. By GEORGE JOHN ROMANES, 
 Cr. 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 Sully QAMES). 
 
 THE HUMAN MIND : a Text-book of 
 Psychology. 2 vols. 8vo., 2is. 
 
 OUTLINES OF PSYCHOLOGY. Crown 
 8vo., gs. 
 
 THE TEACHER'S HANDBOOK OF PSY- 
 CHOLOGY. Crown 8vo., 6s. 6d. 
 
 STUDIES OF CHILDHOOD. 8vo. , i os . 6d. 
 
 CHILDREN'S WAYS: being Selections 
 from the Author's ' Studies of Childhood '. 
 With 25 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 Sutherland. THE ORIGIN AND 
 GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT. By 
 ALEXANDER SUTHERLAND, M.A. 2 vols. 
 8vo., 285. 
 
 Swinburne. PICTURE LOGIC : an 
 Attempt to Popularise the Science of 
 Reasoning. By ALFRED JAMES SWINBURNE, 
 M.A. With 23 Woodcuts. Cr. 8vo., 2s. 6d. \ 
 
 Webb. THE VEIL OF Is is : a Series 
 of Essays on Idealism. By THOMAS E. 
 WEBB, LL.D., Q.C. 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 Weber. HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 By ALFRED WEBER, Professor in the Uni- 
 versity of Strasburg. Translated by FRANK 
 THILLY, Ph.D. 8vo., i6s. 
 
 Whately (Archbishop). 
 
 BACON'S ESSAYS. With Annotations. 
 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF LOGIC. Cr. 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC- Cr. 8vo., 
 45. 6d. 
 
 Zeller (Dr. EDWARD). 
 
 THE STOICS, EPICUREANS, AND 
 SCEPTICS. Translated by the Rev. O. J. 
 REICHEL, M.A. Crown 8vo., 155. 
 
 OUTLINES OF THE HISTORY OF 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. Translated by 
 SARAH F. ALLEYNE and EVELYN ABBOTT, 
 M.A., LL.D. Crown 8vo., zos. 6d. 
 
 PLATO AND THE OLDER ACADEMY. 
 Translated by SARAH F. ALLEYNE and 
 ALFRED GOODWIN, B.A. Crown 8vo., i8s. 
 
 SOCRATES AND THE SOCRATIC 
 SCHOOLS. Translated by the Rev. O. 
 J. REICHEL, M.A. Crown 8vo., zos. 6d. 
 
 ARISTOTLE AND THE EARLIER-PERI- 
 PATETICS. Translated by B. F. C. Cos- 
 TELLOE, M.A. , and J. H. MUIRHEAD, 
 M.A. 2 vols. Crown 8vo., 245. 
 
 STONYHURST PHILOSOPHICAL SERIES. 
 
 A MANUAL OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 
 By C. S. DEVAS, M.A. Crown 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 
 FIRST PRINCIPLES OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 By JOHN RICKABY, S.J. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 GENERAL METAPHYSICS. By JOHN 
 RICKABY, S.J. Crown 8vo., 5$. 
 
 LOGIC. By RICHARD F. CLARKE, S.J. 
 Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 MORAL PHILOSOPHY (ETHICS AND 
 NA TURAL LA w). By JOSEPH RICKABY, S.J. 
 Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 NATURAL THEOLOGY. By BERNARD 
 BOEDDER, S.J. Crown 8vo., 6s. 6d. 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY. ' By MICHAEL MAKER, 
 S.J., D.Litt., M.A. (Lond.). Cr. 8vo., 6s. 6d.
 
 20 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 History and Science of Language, &e. 
 
 Davidson. LEADING AND IMPORT- 
 ANT ENGLISH WORDS : Explained and Ex- 
 emplified. By WILLIAM L. DAVIDSON, 
 M.A. Fcp. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Farrar. LANGUAGE AND LANGUAGES. 
 
 L'y F. W. FARRAR, D.D., Dean of Canter- 
 bury. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Graham. ENGLISH SYNONYMS, 
 Classified and Explained : with Practical 
 Exercises. By G. F. GRAHAM. Fcp. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Max Miiller (F.). 
 THE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE. 2 vols. 
 
 Crown 8vo., IDS. 
 
 Max Miiller (F.) continued. 
 
 BIOGRAPHIES OP WORDS, AND THE 
 HOME OF THE ARYAS. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 CHIPS FROM A GERMAN WORKSHOP. 
 Vol. III. ESSAYS ON LANGUAGE AND 
 LITERATURE. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 LAST ESSAYS. First Series. Essays 
 on Language, Folk-lore and other Sub- 
 jects. Crown Svo., 55. 
 
 Roget. THESAURUS OF ENGLISH 
 WORDS AND PHRASES. Classified and 
 Arranged so as to Facilitate the Expression 
 of Ideas and assist in Literary Composition. 
 By PETER MARK ROGET, M.D., F.R.S. 
 With full Index. Crown 8vo., gs. net. 
 
 Political Economy and Economics. 
 
 I Macleod (HENRY DUNNING) contd. 
 
 Ashley (W.J.). 
 
 ENGLISH ECONOMIC HISTORY AND 
 THEORY. Crown 8vo., Part I., 55. Part 
 II., los. 6d. 
 
 SURVEYS, HISTORIC AND ECONOMIC. 
 Crown 8vo., gs. net. 
 
 Bagehot. ECONOMIC STUDIES. By 
 WALTER BAGEHOT. Crown Svo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Barnett. PRACTICABLE SOCIALISM: 
 Essays on Social Reform. By SAMUEL A. 
 and HENRIETTA BARNETT. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Devas. A MANUAL OF POLITICAL 
 ECONOMY. By C. S. DEVAS, M.A. Cr. 8vo., 
 75. 6d. (Stonyhurst Philosophical Series.) 
 
 Lawrence. LOCAL VARIATIONS IN 
 WAGES. By F. W. LAWRENCE, M.A. With 
 Index and 18 Maps and Diagrams. 4to.,8s.6rf. 
 
 Leslie. ESSAYS ON POLITICAL ECO- 
 NOMY. By T. E. CLIFFE LESLIE, Hon. 
 LL.D., Dubl. 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 Macleod (HENRY DUNNING). 
 
 ECONOMICS FOR BEGINNERS. Crown 
 8vo., 2s. 
 
 THE ELEMENTS OF ECONOMICS. 2 
 vols. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. each. 
 
 BIMETALLISM. 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 THE ELEMENTS OF BANKING. Cr. 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF 
 BANKING. Vol. I. 8vo., 125. Vol. II. 145. 
 
 THE THEORY OF CREDIT. Svo. 
 In i Vol., 305. net; or separately, Vol. 
 L, IDS. net. Vol. II., Part I., 105. net. 
 Vol II., Part II. IDS. net. 
 
 INDIAN CURRENCY. 8vo., 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 Mill. POLITICAL ECONOMY. By 
 JOHN STUART MILL. Popular Edition. Cr. 
 8vo.,3S.6(f. Library Edition. 2 vols. 8vo.,3os. 
 
 Mulhall. INDUSTRIES AND WEALTH 
 OF NATIONS. By MICHAEL G. MULHALL, 
 F.S.S. With 32 Diagrams. Cr. 8vo., 85. 6d. 
 
 Spahr. AMERICA'S WORKINGPEOPLE. 
 By CHARLES B. SPAHR. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Symes. POLITICAL ECONOMY : a 
 Short Text-book of Political Economy. 
 With Problems for Solution, Hints for 
 Supplementary Reading, and a Supple- 
 mentary Chapter on Socialism. By j. E. 
 SYMES, M.A. Crown 8vo., 25. 6d. 
 
 Toynbee. LECTURES ON THE IN- 
 DUSTRIAL REVOLUTION OF THE 18TH CEN- 
 TURY IN ENGLAND. By ARNOLD TOYNBEE. 
 8vo., i os. 6d. 
 
 Webb (SIDNEY and BEATRICE). 
 
 THE H is TORY OF TRADE UNIONISM. 
 With Map and Bibliography. 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 INDUSTRIAL DEMOCRACY: a Study 
 in Trade Unionism. 2 vols. 8vo., i2s. net.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. ai 
 
 Evolution, Anthropology, &e. 
 
 Clodd (EDWARD). 
 
 THE STORY OF CREATION: a Plain 
 Account of Evolution. With 77 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 A PRIMER OF EVOLUTION: being a 
 Popular Abridged Edition of ' The Story 
 of Creation'. With Illustrations. Fcp. 
 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 Lubbock. THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISA- 
 TION, and the Primitive Condition of Man. 
 By Sir J. LUBBOCK, Bart., M.P. (LORD 
 AVEBURY). With 5 Plates and 20 Illustra- 
 tions. 8vo., i8s. 
 
 Packard. LAMARCK, THE FOUNDER 
 OF EVOLUTION : his Life and Work, with 
 Translations of his Writings on Organic 
 Evolution. By ALPHEUS S. PACKARD, 
 M.D., LL.D., Professor of Zoology and 
 Geology in Brown University. With 10 
 Portrait and other Illustrations. Large 
 Crown 8vo., gs. net. 
 
 Romanes (GEORGE JOHN). 
 
 ESSAYS. Edited by C. LLOYD 
 MORGAN. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 AN EXAMINATION OF WEISMANN- 
 ISM. Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 DARWIN, AND AFTER DARWIN: an 
 Exposition of the Darwinian Theory, and a 
 Discussion on Post- Darwinian Questions. 
 
 Part I. THE DARWINIAN THEORY. With 
 Portrait of Darwin and 125 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., IDS. 6<f. 
 
 Part II. POST- DARWINIAN QUESTIONS : 
 Heredity and Utility. With Portrait of 
 the Author and 5 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 
 IDS. 6d. 
 
 Part III. Post-Darwinian Questions : 
 Isolation and Physiological Selection. 
 Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 The Science of Religion, &e. 
 
 Balfour. -- THE FOUNDATIONS OF \ Lang (ANDREW) continued. 
 BELIEF : being Notes Introductory to the , /^ o 
 
 Study of Theology. By the Right Hon. THE MAKING OF RELIGION. Cr. 8vo., 
 ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR. Cr. 8vo., 6s. net. 5 s - net - 
 
 Baring-Gould. THE ORIGIN AND 
 DEVELOPMENT OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF. 
 By the Rev. S. BARING-GOULD. 2 vols. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. each. 
 
 Campbell. RELIGION IN GREEK LI- 
 TERATURE. By the Rev. LEWIS CAMPBELL. 
 M.A., LL.D. 8vo., 155. 
 
 Davidson. THEISM, as Grounded in 
 Human Nature, Historically and Critically 
 Handled. Being the Burnett Lectures 
 for 1892 and 1893, delivered at Aberdeen. 
 By W. L. DAVIDSON, M..A., LL.D. 8vo., 155. 
 
 Lang (ANDREW). 
 MAGIC AND RELIGION. 8vo., 105. 6d. 
 
 CUSTOM AND MYTH: Studies of 
 Early Usage and Belief. With 15 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 MYTH, RITUAL, AND RELIGION. 2 
 vols. Crown 8vo., js. 
 
 MODERN MYTHOLOGY : a Reply to 
 Professor Max Miiller. 8vo., gs. 
 
 Max Miiller (The Right Hon. R). 
 
 CHIPS FROM A GERMAN WORKSHOP. 
 Vol. IV. Essays on Mythology and Folk- 
 lore. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 THE Six SYSTEMS OF INDIAN 
 PHILOSOPHY. 8vo., i8s. 
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE SCIENCE OP 
 MYTHOLOGY. 2 vols. 8vo., 325. 
 
 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF RELI- 
 GION, as illustrated by the Religions of 
 India. The Hibbert Lectures, delivered 
 at the Chapter House, Westminster 
 Abbey, in 1878. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE SCIENCE OF 
 RELIGION : Four Lectures delivered at the 
 Royal Institution. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 NATURAL RELIGION. The Gifford 
 Lectures, delivered before the University 
 of Glasgow in 1888. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 PHYSICAL RELIGION. The Gifford 
 Lectures, delivered before the University 
 of Glasgow in 1890. Crown 8vo., 55.
 
 22 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 The Science of Religion, &e. continued. 
 
 Max Muller (The Right Hon. F.) 
 
 continued. 
 
 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RELIGION. The 
 Gifford Lectures, delivered before the Uni- 
 versity of Glasgow in 1891. Cr. 8vo., 55. 
 
 THEOSOPHY, OR PSYCHOLOGICAL RE- 
 LIGION. The Gifford Lectures, delivered 
 before the University of Glasgow in 1892. 
 Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 THREE LECTURES ON THE VEDANTA 
 PHILOSOPHY, delivered at the Royal 
 Institution in March, 1894. Cr. 8vo., 55. 
 
 LAST ESSAYS. Second Series 
 Essays on the Science of Religion. 
 Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Wood-Martin (W. G.). 
 
 TRACES OF THE ELDER FAITHS OF 
 IRELAND : a Folk-lore Sketch. A Hand- 
 book of Irish Pre-Christian Traditions. 
 With 192 Illustrations. 2 vols. 8vo., 
 305. net. 
 
 PAGAN IRELAND : an Archaeological 
 Sketch. A Handbook of Irish Pre- 
 Christian Antiquities. With 512 Illus- 
 trations. 8vo., 155. 
 
 Classical Literature, Translations, &e. 
 
 Abbott. HELLENICA. A Collection 
 of Essays on Greek Poetry, Philosophy, 
 History, and Religion. Edited by EVELYN 
 ABBOTT, M.A., LL. D. Crown 8vo., js. 6d. 
 
 JE,schy\us. EUMENIDES OF SSCHY- 
 
 LUS. With Metrical English Translation. 
 By J. F. DAVIES. 8vo., 75. 
 
 Aristophanes. THE ACHARNIANS 
 OP ARISTOPHANES, translated into English 
 Verse. By R. Y. TYRRELL. Crown 8vo., is. 
 
 Becker (W. A.), Translated by the 
 Rev. F. METCALFE, B.D. 
 
 GALLUS : or, Roman Scenes in the 
 Time of Augustus. With Notes and Ex- 
 cursuses. With 26 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 CHARICLES : or, Illustrations of the 
 Private Life of the Ancient Greeks. 
 With Notes and Excursuses. With 26 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Campbell. RELIGION IN GREEK LI- 
 TERATURE. By the Rev. LEWIS CAMPBELL, 
 M.A., LL.D., Emeritus Professor of Greek, I 
 Unirersity of St. Andrews. 8vo., 155. 
 
 Cicero. CICERO'S CORRESPONDENCE. 
 By R. Y. TYF&ELL. Vols. I., II., III., 8vo., 
 each 12*. Vol. IV., 155. Vol. V., 145. 
 Vol. VI., 125. Vol. VII. Index, 75. 6d. 
 
 Harvard Studies in Classical 
 
 Philology. Edited by a Committee of the 
 Classical Instructors of Harvard University. 
 Vols. XI. and XII. 1900 and 1901. 8vo., 
 6s. 6d. net each. 
 
 Hime. LUC/AN, THE SYRIAN SA- 
 TIRIST. By Lieut.-Col. HENRY W. L. HIME, 
 (late) Royal Artillery. 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Homer. THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER. 
 Done into English Verse. By WILLIAM 
 MORRIS. Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 Horace. THE WORKS OF HORACE, 
 
 RENDERED INTO ENGLISH PROSE. With 
 
 Life, Introduction and Notes. By WILLIAM 
 COUTTS, M.A. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Keller. HOMERIC SOCIETY : a 
 Sociological Study of the ' Iliad ' and 
 ' Odyssey '. By ALBERT GALLOWAY 
 KELLER, Ph.D. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Lucan. THE PHARSALIA OF LUCAN. 
 Translated into Blank Verse. By Sir 
 EDWARD RIDLEY. 8vo., 145. 
 
 Lucian. TRANSLATIONS FROM 
 
 LUCIAN. By AUGUSTA M. CAMPBELL 
 DAVIDSON, M.A. Edin. Crown 8vo., 55. net.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 23 
 
 Classical Literature, Translations, &e. continued. 
 
 Ogilvie. HORAE LATINAE : Studies 
 in Synonyms and Syntax. By the late 
 ROBERT OGILVIE, M.A., LL.D., H.M. Chief 
 Inspector of Schools for Scotland. Edited 
 by ALEXANDER SOUTER, M.A. With a 
 Memoir by JOSEPH OGILVIE, M.A., LL.D. 
 8vo., 125. 6d. net. 
 
 Rich. A DICTIONARY OF ROMAN AND 
 GREEK ANTIQUITIES. By A. RICH, B.A. 
 With 2000 Woodcuts. Crown 8vo., 65. net. 
 
 Sophocles. Translated into English 
 Verse. By ROBERT WHITELAW, M.A., 
 Assistant Master in Rugby School. Cr. 8vo., 
 8s. 6d. 
 
 Tyrrell. DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS 
 INTO GREEK AND LATIN VERSE. Edited 
 by R. Y. TYRRELL. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 THE POEMS OF VIRGIL. Translated 
 into English Prose by JOHN CONINGTON. 
 Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 Virgil continued. 
 
 THE &NEID OF VIRGIL. Translated 
 into English Verse by JOHN CONINGTON. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 THE SNEIDS OF VIRGIL. Done into 
 English Verse. By WILLIAM MORRIS. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 THE &NEID OF VIRGIL, freely trans- 
 lated into English Blank Verse. By 
 W. J. THORNHILL. Crown 8vo., 6s. net. 
 
 THE SNEID OF VIRGIL. Translated 
 into English Verse by JAMES RHOADES. 
 Books I. -VI. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 Books VII. -XII. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 THE ECLOGUES AND GEORGICS OF 
 VIRGIL. Translated into English Prose 
 by J. W. MACKAIL, Fellow of Balliol 
 College, Oxford. i6mo., 55. 
 
 Wilkins. THE GROWTH OF THE 
 HOMERIC POEMS. By G. WILKINS. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Poetry and the Drama. 
 
 Arnold. THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD: 
 or, The Great Consummation. By Sir 
 EDWIN ARNOLD. With 14 Illustrations 
 after HOLMAN HUNT. Crown 8vo., 5$. net. 
 
 Bell (MRS. HUGH). 
 
 CHAMBER COMEDIES : a Collection 
 of Plays and Monologues for the Drawing 
 Room. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 FAIRY TALE PLAYS, AND How TO 
 ACT THEM. With 91 Diagrams and 52 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. net. 
 
 RUMPELSTILTZKIN : a Fairy Play in 
 Five Scenes (Characters, 7 Male ; i Fe- 
 male). From ' Fairy Tale Plays and 
 How to Act Them '. With Illustrations, 
 Diagrams and Music. Cr. 8vo., sewed, 6d. 
 
 Bird. RONALDS FAREWELL, and 
 other Verses. By GEORGE BIRD, M.A., 
 Vicar of Bradwell, Derbyshire. Fcp. 8vo., 
 45. 6d. net. 
 
 Dabney. THE MUSICAL BASIS OF 
 
 VERSE : a Scientific Study of the Prin- 
 ciples of Poetic Composition. By J. P. 
 DABNEY. Crown 8vo.. 6s. 6d. net. 
 
 Goethe. THE FIRST PART OF THE 
 TRAGEDY OF FAUST IN ENGLISH. By 
 THOS. E. WEBB, LL.D., sometime Fellow 
 of Trinity College ; Professor of Moral 
 Philosophy in the University of Dublin, 
 etc. New and Cheaper Edition, with THE 
 DEATH OF FAUST, from the Second Part. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Ingelow QEAN). 
 
 POETICAL WORKS. Complete in 
 One Volume. Crown 8vo., gilt top, 6s. net. 
 
 LYRICAL AND OTHER POEMS. Selec- 
 ted from the Writings of JEAN INGELOW. 
 Fcp. 8vo., 2s. 6d. cloth plain, 3$. cloth gilt. 
 
 Keary. THE BROTHERS : a Fairy 
 Masque. By C. F. KEARY. Cr. 8vo.,4s. net. 
 
 Lang (ANDREW). 
 
 GRASS OF PARNASSUS. 
 
 2s. 6d. net. 
 THE BLUE POETRY BOOK. Edited 
 
 by ANDREW LANG. With 100 Illustrations. 
 
 Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 Lecky. POEMS. By the Right Hon. 
 W. E. H. LECKY. Fcp. 8vo., 5*. 
 
 Fcp. 8vo.,
 
 24 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Poetry and the Drama continued. 
 
 Lytton (The Earl of), (OWEN 
 
 MEREDITH). 
 
 THE WANDERER. Cr. 8vo., 105. 6d. 
 LUCILE. Crown 8vo., 105. 6d. 
 SELECTED POEMS. Cr. 8vo., IDS. 6d. 
 
 Macaulay. LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME, 
 WITH ' IVRY' AND ' THE ARMADA '. By 
 Lord MACAULAY. 
 
 Illustrated by G. SCHARF. Fcp. 410., IDS. 6d. 
 
 Bijou Edition. 
 
 i8mo., 2s. 6d. gilt top. 
 
 Popular Edition. 
 
 Fcp. 410., 6d. sewed, is. cloth. 
 
 Illustrated by J. R. WEGUELIN. Crown 
 8vo., 3s. net. 
 
 Annotated Edition. Fcp. 8vo., is. sewed, 
 is. 6d. cloth. 
 
 MacDonald. A BOOK OF STRIFE, IN 
 
 THE FORM OF THE DlARY OP AN OLD 
 
 SOUL : Poems. By GEORGE MACDONALD, 
 LL.D. i8mo., 6s. 
 
 Moon. POEMS OF LOVE AND HOME. 
 By GEORGE WASHINGTON MOON, Hon. 
 F.R.S.L. With Portrait. i6mo., 2s. 6d. 
 
 Morris (WILLIAM). 
 
 POETICAL WORKS -LIBRARY EDITION. 
 Complete in n volumes. Crown 8vo., 
 price 55. net each. 
 
 THE EARTHLY PARADISE. 4 vols. 
 Crown 8vo., 5$. net each. 
 
 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON. 
 
 Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE, and 
 other Poems. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG, 
 AND THE FALL OF TUB NIBLUNGS. Cr. 
 8vo., 5s. net. 
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY, AND LOVE is 
 ENOUGH. Crown 8vo., 5$. net. 
 
 Morris (WILLIAM) continued. 
 
 THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER. Done 
 into English Verse. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 THE &NEIDS OF VIRGIL. Done 
 into English Verse. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 THE TALE OF BEOWULF, SOMETIME 
 KING OF THE FOLK OF THE WEDERGBA rs. 
 Translated by WILLIAM MORRIS and A. 
 J. WYATT. Crown 8vo., 5$. net. 
 
 Certain of the POETICAL WORKS may also be 
 had in the following Editions : 
 
 THE EARTHLY PARADISE. 
 
 Popular Edition. 5 vols. i2mo., 255.; 
 or 5s. each, sold separately. 
 
 The same in Ten Parts, 255.; or 2s. 6d- 
 each, sold separately. 
 
 Cheap Edition, in i vol. Crown 8vo., 
 6*. net. 
 
 POEMS BY THE WA Y. Square crown 
 8vo., 6s. 
 
 *,* For Mr. William Morris's other 
 Works, see pp. 27, 28, 37 and 40. 
 
 Morte Arthur: an Alliterative Poem 
 
 of the Fourteenth Century. Edited from 
 the Thornton MS., with Introduction, 
 Notes and Glossary. By MARY MACLEOD 
 BANKS. Fcp. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Nesbit. LA YS AND LEGENDS. By E. 
 NESBIT (Mrs. HUBERT BLAND). First 
 Series. Crown 8vo., y. 6d. Second Series. 
 With Portrait. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Ramal. SOWGS OF CHILDHOOD. By 
 WALTER RAMAL. With a Frontispiece 
 from a Drawing by RICHARD DOYLE. Fcp. 
 &ro., 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Riley. OLD FASHIONED ROSES: 
 Poems. By JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. 
 i2mo., gilt top, 5s. 
 
 Romanes. A SELECTION FROM THE 
 POEMS OF GEORGE JOHN ROMANES, M.A., 
 LL.D., F.R.S. With an Introduction by 
 T. HERBERT WARREN, President of Mag- 
 dalen College, Oxford. Crown 8vo., 4$. 6d.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 25 
 
 Poetry and the Drama continued. 
 
 Savage-Armstrong. BALLADS OF 
 DOWN. By G. F. SAVAGE-ARMSTRONG, 
 M.A., D.Litt. Crown 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 BOWDLER 's FAMILY SHAKESPEARE. 
 With 36 Woodcuts, i vol. 8vo., 145. 
 Or in 6 vols. Fcp. 8vo., 215. 
 
 THE SHA KESPEA RE BIR THDA y Boo K. 
 By MARY F. DUNBAR. 32010., is. 6d. 
 
 Stevenson. A CHILD'S GARDEN OP 
 VERSES. By ROBERT Louis STEVENSON. 
 Fcp. 8vo., gilt top, 55. 
 
 Wagner. THE NIBELUNGEN RING. 
 Done into English Verse by REGINALD 
 RANKIN, B.A., of the Inner Temple, Barris- 
 ter-at-Law. 
 
 Vol. I. Rhine Gold, The Valkyrie. Fcp. 
 8vo., gilt top, 45. 6d. 
 
 Vol. II. Siegfried, The Twilight of the 
 Gods. Fcp. 8vo., gilt top, 45. 6d. 
 
 Fiction, Humour, &e. 
 
 Anstey (F.). 
 VOCES POPULI. 
 
 'Punch'.) 
 
 Churchill. SAVROLA : a Tale of the 
 Revolution in Laurania. By WINSTOM 
 (Reprinted from j SPENCER CHURCHILL, M.P. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 First Series. With 20 Illustrations by J. 
 
 BERNARD PARTRIDGE. Cr. 8vo., gilt j Crawford. 
 top, 35. net. 
 
 Second Series. With 25 Illustrations by J. 
 BERNARD PARTRIDGE. Cr. 8vo., gilt top, 
 3s. net. 
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 
 A TRAMP. By J. H. CRAWFORD. With a 
 Photogravure Frontispiece ' The Vagrants,' 
 by FRED. WALKER, and 8 other Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S, and 
 
 other Sketches. (Reprinted from 'Punch '.) Creed. THE VlCAR OF ST. LUKE'S. 
 With 25 Illustrations by J. BERNARD ! By SIBYL CREED. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 PARTRIDGE. Cr. 8vo., gilt top, 35. net. 
 
 Bailey. MY LADY OF ORANGE : a 
 Romance of the Netherlands in the Days of 
 Alva. By H. C. BAILEY. With 8 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Beaconsfield (The Earl of). 
 
 NOYELS AND TAKES. Complete 
 in ii vols. Crown Svo., is. 6d. each, or 
 in sets, n vols., gilt top, 155. net. 
 
 Sybil. 
 
 Henrietta Temple. 
 
 Venetia. 
 
 Coningsby. 
 
 Lothair. 
 
 Endymion. 
 
 Vivian Grey. 
 The Young Duke, etc. 
 Alroy, Ixion, etc. 
 Contarini Fleming, 
 
 etc. 
 Tancred. 
 
 NOVELS AND TALES. THE HUGH- 
 ENDEN EDITION. With 2 Portraits and 
 ii Vignettes. 11 vols. Crown 8vo., 425. 
 
 Dougall. 
 
 DOUGALL. 
 
 BEGGARS ALL. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 By L. 
 
 Doyle (Sir A. CONAN). 
 
 CLARKE: A Tale of Mon- 
 mouth's Rebellion. With 10 Illustra- 
 tions. Cr. 8vo., 3s. 6d. 
 
 THE REFUGEES: A Tale of the 
 Huguenots. With 25 Illustrations. Cr. 
 8vo., 3s. 6d. 
 
 THE STARK MUNRO LETTERS. Cr. 
 8vo., 3s. 6d. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN OF THE POLESTAR, 
 and other Tales. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d.
 
 26 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Fiction, Humour, &e. continued. 
 
 Dyson. THE GOLD-STEALERS : a | Haggard (H. RIDER). 
 Story of Waddy. By EDWARD DYSON, 
 
 Author of 'Rhymes from the Mines,' etc. 
 Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 Farrar (F. W., DEAN OF CANTER- 
 BURY). 
 
 DARKNESS AND DAWN: or, Scenes 
 in the Days of Nero. An Historic Tale. 
 Cr. 8vo., gilt top, 6s. net. 
 
 GATHERING CLOUDS : a Tale of the 
 Days of St. Chrysostom. Cr. 8vo., gilt 
 top, 6s. net. 
 
 Fowler (EDITH H.). 
 
 THE YOUNG PRETENDERS. A Story 
 of Child Life. With 12 Illustrations by 
 Sir PHILIP BURNE-JONES, Bart. Crown 
 8vo., 6s. 
 
 THE PROFESSOR'S CHILDREN. With 
 24 Illustrations by ETHEL KATE BURGESS. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Francis (M. E.). 
 FIANDER'S WIDOW. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. With Fron- 
 tispiece. Crown 8vo., 3$. net. 
 
 PASTORALS OF DORSET. With 8 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Froude. THE Two CHIEFS OF DUN- 
 BOY: an Irish Romance of the Last Century. 
 By JAMES A. FROUDE. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Gurdon. MEMORIES AND FANCIES : 
 
 Suffolk Tales and other Stories ; Fairy 
 Legends ; Poems ; Miscellaneous Articles. 
 By the late LADY CAMILLA GURDON. Cr. 
 8vo., 55. 
 
 ALLAN QUATERMAIN. With 31 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 ALLAN'S WIFE. With 34 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 BEATRICE. With Frontispiece and 
 Vignette. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 BLACK HEART AND WHITE HEART, 
 AND OTHER Sj OKIES. With 33 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 CLEOPATRA. With 29 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 COLONEL QUARITCH, V.C. With 
 Frontispiece and Vignette. Cr. 8vo., 3s. 6d. 
 
 DAWN. With 1 6 Illustrations. Cr. 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 DR. THERNE. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 ERIC BRIGHTEYES. With 51 Illus- 
 trations. Crown 8vo., 3s. 6d. 
 
 HEART OF THE WORLD. With 15 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 JOAN HASTE. With 20 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 LYSBETH. With 26 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 MAIWA'S REVENGE. Cr. 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 MONTEZUMA'S DAUGHTER. With 24 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. , 35. 6d . 
 
 MR. MEESONS WILL. With 16 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo.. 35. 6d. 
 
 NADA THE LILY. With 23 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 SHE. With 32 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo., 3s. 6d. 
 
 SWALLOW : a Tale of the Great Trek. 
 With 8 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 3$. 6d. 
 
 THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST. With 
 16 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE WITCH'S HEAD. With 16 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 27 
 
 Fiction, Humour, &e. continued. 
 
 Haggard and Lang. THE WORLD'S 
 
 DESIRE. By H. RIDER HAGGARD and 
 ANDREW LANG. With 27 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 3$. 6d. 
 
 Harte. IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS. 
 By BRET HARTE. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d, 
 
 Hope. THE HEART OF PRINCESS 
 OSRA. By ANTHONY HOPE. With 9 Illus- 
 trations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Howard (Lady MABEL). 
 
 THE UNDOING OF JOHN BREWSTER. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 THE FAILURE OF SUCCESS. 
 8vo., 65. 
 
 Crown 
 
 Hutchinson. A FRIEND OF NELSON. 
 By HORACE G. HUTCHINSON. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Jerome. SKETCHES IN LAVENDER: 
 BLUB AND GREEN. By JEROME K. JEROME, 
 Author of ' Three Men in a Boat," etc. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Joyce. OLD CELTIC ROMANCES. 
 Twelve of the most beautiful of the Ancient 
 Irish Romantic Tales. Translated from the 
 Gaelic. By P. W. JOYCE, LL.D. Crown 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Lang. A MONK OF FIFE ; a Story 
 of the Days of Joan of Arc. By ANDREW 
 LANG. With 13 Illustrations by SELWYN 
 IMAGE. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Lyall (EDNA). 
 THE HINDERERS. C rown 8vo . , 2s . 6d. 
 
 THE A UTOBIOGRAPHYOF A SLANDER. 
 
 Fcp. 8vo., is. sewed. 
 
 Presentation Edition.^ With 20 Illustra- 
 tions by LANCELOT SPEED. Crown 
 8vo., 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A TRUTH. 
 Fcp. 8vo., is. sewed, is. 6d. cloth. 
 
 DOREEN. The Story of a Singer. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 WAYFARING MEN. Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 HOPE THE HERMIT : a Romance of 
 Borrowdale. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Marchmont. IN THE NAME OF A 
 
 WOMAN: a Romance. By ARTHUR W. 
 MARCHMONT. With 8 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Mason and Lang. PARSON KELLY. 
 
 By A. E. W. MASON and ANDREW LANG. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Max M tiller. DEUTSCHE LIEBE 
 (GERMAN LOVE) : Fragments from the 
 Papers of an Alien. Collected by F. MAX 
 MULLER. Translated from the German by 
 G. A. M. Crown 8vo. , gilt top, 55. 
 
 Melville (G. J. WHYTE). 
 
 The Gladiators. 
 The Interpreter. 
 Good for Nothing. 
 The Queen's Maries. 
 
 Crown 8vo. , is. 6d. each. 
 
 Holmby House. 
 Kate Coventry. 
 Digby Grand. 
 General Bounce. 
 
 Merriman. FLOTSAM: A Story of 
 
 the Indian Mutiny. By HENRY SETON 
 MERRIMAN. With Frontispiece and Vig- 
 nette by H. G. MASSE Y. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Morris (WILLIAM). 
 
 THE SUNDERING FLOOD. Cr. 8vo., 
 75. 6d. 
 
 THE WATER OF THE WONDROUS 
 ISLES. Crown 8vo., ys. 6d. 
 
 THE WELL A T THE WORLD'S END. 
 2 vols. 8vo., 28s. 
 
 THE WOOD BEYOND THE WORLD. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. net. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE GLITTERING 
 PLAIN, which has been also called The 
 Land of the Living Men, or The Acre of 
 the Undying. Square post 8vo., 5s. net. 
 
 THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS, 
 wherein is told somewhat of the Lives of 
 the Men of Burgdale, their Friends, their 
 Neighbours, their Foemen, and their 
 Fellows-in-Arms. Written in Prose and 
 Verse. Square crown 8vo., 8s.
 
 28 
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Fiction, Humour, &e. continued. 
 
 Morris (WILLIAM) continued. Sewell (ELIZABETH M.). 
 
 A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF THE 
 WOLFINGS, and all the Kindreds of the 
 Mark. Written in Prose and Verse. 
 Square crown 8vo.. 6s. 
 
 A DREAM OF JOHN BALL, AND A 
 KING'S LESSOX. i2mo., is. 6rf. 
 
 A Glimpse of the World 
 Laneton Parsonage. 
 Margaret Percival. 
 Katharine Ashton. 
 The Earl's Daughter. 
 The Experience of Life. 
 
 Amy Herbert. 
 Cleve Hall. 
 Gertrude. 
 Home Life. 
 After Life. 
 Ursula. Ivors. 
 
 Cr. 8vo., cloth plain, is. 6d. each, 
 extra, gilt edges, as. 6d. each. 
 
 Cloth 
 
 NEWS FROM NOWHERE ; or, An j 
 
 Epoch of Rest. Being some Chapters j Sheehan. LUKE DELMEGE. tJy 
 from an Utopian Romance. Post 8vo., j the Rev. P. A. SHEEHAN, P.P., Author of 
 
 is. 6d. ' My New Curate '. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 THE STORY OF GRETTIR THE STRONG. 
 Translated from the Icelandic by EiRiKR 
 MAGNUSSON and WILLIAM MORRIS. Cr. 
 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 THREE NORTHERN LOVE STORIES, 
 AND O THER TALES. Translated from the 
 Icelandic by EIRIKR MAGNTJSSON and 
 WILLIAM MORRIS. Crown 8vo., 6s. net. 
 
 %* For Mr. William Morris's other 
 Works, see pp. 24, 37 and 40. 
 
 Newman (Cardinal). 
 
 Loss AND GAIN : The Story of a 
 Convert. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 CALLISTA : A Tale of the Third 
 Century. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Phillipps-Wolley. SNAP: a Legend 
 of the Lone Mountain. By C. PHILLIPPS- 
 WOLLEY. With 13 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo., 3s. 6d. 
 
 Raymond. Two MEN d 1 MEN DIP. 
 
 By WALTER RAYMOND. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Ridley. ANNE MAINWARING. By 
 ALICE RIDLEY, Author of ' The Story of 
 Aline'. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Somerville 
 
 (MARTIN). 
 
 (E. CE.) and Ross 
 
 SOME EXPERIENCES OF AN IRISH 
 R.M. With 31 Illustrations by E. CE. 
 SOMERVILLE. Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 THE REAL CHARLOTTE. Crown 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE SILVER Fox. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Stebbing. RACHEL WVLFSTAN, and 
 other Stories. By W. STEBBING, author of 
 ' Probable Tales'. Crown 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 Stevenson (ROBERT Louis). 
 
 THE STRANGE CASE OF DR.JEKYLL 
 AND MR. HYDE. Fcp. 8vo., is. sewed, 
 is. 6d. cloth. 
 
 THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. 
 JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE; WITH OTHER 
 FABLES. Crown 8vo., bound in buckram, 
 with gilt top, 55. net. 
 
 ' Silver Library ' Edition. Crown 8vo., 
 3S. 6d. 
 
 MORE NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS THE 
 DYNAMITER. By ROBERT Louis STEVEN- 
 SON and FANNY VAN DE GRIFT STEVEN- 
 SON. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE WRONG Box. By ROBERT 
 Louis STEVENSON and LLOYD OSBOURNE. 
 Crown 8vo., . 6d.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 29 
 
 Fiction, Humour, &e. continued. 
 
 ontinued. 
 
 Suttner. LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS Walford (L. B.) 
 
 (Die Waffen Niedcr) : The Autobiography i 
 of Martha von Tilling. By BERTHA VON 
 SUTTNER. Translated by T. HOLMES. 
 Cr. 8vo., 15. 6d. 
 
 Swan. BALLAST. By MYRA SWAN. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Trollope (ANTHONY). 
 THE WARDEN. Cr. 8vo., is. 6d. 
 BARCHESTER TOWERS. Cr.8vo.,is.6d. 
 
 Walford (L. B.). 
 
 CHARLOTTE. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 OffE OF OURSELVES. Cr. 8vo., 65. 
 THE INTRUDERS. Crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. 
 LEDDY MARGET. Crown 8vo. , 25. 6d. 
 
 IVA KILDARE : a Matrimonial Pro- 
 blem. Crown 8vo., 2s. >d. 
 
 MR. SMITH: a Part of his Life. 
 Crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE BABY'S GRANDMOTHER. Cr. 
 8vo., 2s. 6d. 
 
 COUSINS. Crown 8vo., 25. 6d. 
 
 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 8vo., 2s. 6d. 
 
 Cr. 
 
 PAULINE. Crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. 
 DICK NETHERBY. Cr. 8vo., 25. 6d. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF A WEEK. Cr. 
 8vo. 25. 6d. 
 
 A STIFF-NECKED GENERATION. Cr. 
 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 NAN, and other Stories. Cr. 8vo., 
 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE MISCHIEF OF MONICA. 
 8vo., 25. 6d. 
 
 Cr. 
 
 THE ONE GOOD GUEST. Cr. 8vo. 
 
 25. f>d, 
 
 1 PLOUGHED,' and other Stories. 
 Crown 8vo., 25. 6d. 
 
 THE MA TCHMA KER . C r . 8 vo . , 25. 6d. 
 
 Ward. ONE POOR SCRUPLE. By 
 Mrs. WILFRID WARD. Crown 8vo., 6s. 
 
 West. EDMUND FULLESTON; or, 
 The Family Evil Genius. By B. B. WEST, 
 Author of ' Half Hours with the Million- 
 aires,' etc. Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 Weyman (STANLEY). 
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF. With 
 Frontispiece and Vignette. Crown 8vo., 
 35. 6d. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE. With 
 Frontispiece and Vignette. Cr. 8vo., 65. 
 
 THE RED COCKADE. With Frontis- 
 piece and Vignette. Crown 8vo., 65. 
 
 SHREWSBURY. With 24 Illustra- 
 tions by CLAUDE A. SHEPPERSON. Cr. 
 8vo., 65. 
 
 SOPHIA. With Frontispiece. Crown 
 8vo., 65. 
 
 Yeats (S. LEVETT-). 
 
 THE CHEVALIER D'AURIAC. Crown 
 Svo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE TRAITOR'S WAY. Cr. 8vo., 6s.
 
 30 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Popular Science (Natural History, &e.). 
 
 Butler. OUR HOUSEHOLD INSECTS. Hudson (W. H.). 
 
 An Account of the Insect-Pests found in 
 Dwelling-Houses. By EDWARD A. BUTLER, 
 B.A., B.Sc. (Lond.). With 113 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 BIRDS AND MAN. 
 8vo., 6s. net. 
 
 Large crown 
 
 Furneaux (W.). 
 
 THE OUTDOOR WORLD; or The 
 Young Collector's Handbook. With 18 
 Plates (16 of which are coloured), and 549 
 Illustrations in the Text. Crown 8vo., 
 gilt edges, 65. net. 
 
 BUTTERFLIES AND MOTHS (British). 
 With 12 coloured Plates and 241 Illus- 
 trations in the Text. Crown 8vo., gilt 
 edges, 6s. net. 
 
 LIFE IN PONDS AND STREAMS. 
 With 8 coloured Plates and 331 Illustra- 
 tions in the Text. Crown 8vo., gilt 
 edges, 6s. net. 
 
 Hartwig (GEORGE). 
 
 THE SEA AND ITS LIVING WONDERS. 
 With 12 Plates and 303 Woodcuts. 8vo., 
 gilt top, 75. net. 
 
 THE TROPICAL WORLD. With 8 
 Plates and 172 Woodcuts. 8vo., gilt 
 top, 75. net. 
 
 THE POLAR WORLD. With 3 Maps, 
 8 Plates and 85 Woodcuts. 8vo., gilt 
 top, 75. net. 
 
 THE SUBTERRANEAN WORLD. With 
 3 Maps and 80 Woodcuts. 8vo., gilt 
 top, 75. net. 
 
 Helmholtz. POPULAR LECTURES ON 
 SCIENTIFIC SUBJECTS. By HERMANN VON 
 HELMHOLTZ. With 68 Woodcuts. 2 vols. 
 
 C.r Svn it Ful Mrh 
 
 NATURE IN DOWNLAND. With 12 
 Plates and 14 Illustrations in the Text by 
 A. D. MCCORMICK. 8vo., 105. 6d. net. 
 
 BRITISH BIRDS. With a Chapter 
 on Structure and Classification by FRANK 
 E. BEDDARD, F.R.S. With 16 Plates (8 
 of which are Coloured), and over 100 Illus- 
 trations in the Text. Crown 8vo., gilt 
 edges, 65. net. 
 
 BIRDS IN LONDON. With 17 Plates 
 and 15 Illustrations in the Text, by BRYAN 
 HOOK, A. D. MCCORMICK, and from 
 Photographs from Nature, by R. B. 
 LODGE. 8vo., ias. 
 
 Millais. THE NATURAL HISTORY OP 
 THE BRITISH SURFACE FEEDING-DUCKS. 
 By JOHN GUILLE MILLAIS, F.Z.S., etc. 
 With 6 Photogravures and 66 Plates (41 in 
 Colours) from Drawings by the Author, 
 ARCHIBALD THORBURN, and from Photo- 
 graphs. Royal 410., 6 6s. 
 
 Proctor (RICHARD A.). 
 LIGHT SCIENCE FOR LEISURE HOURS. 
 
 Familiar Essays on Scientific Subjects. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 ROUGH WA YS MADE SMOOTH. Fami- 
 liar Essays on Scientific Subjects. Crown 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 PLEA SA NT WA YS IN SCIENCE. C rown 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 NA TURE STUDIES. By R. A. PROC- 
 TOR, GRANT ALLEN, A. WILSON, T. 
 FOSTER and E. CLODD. Cr. 8vo., 3$. 6d. 
 
 LEISURE READINGS. By R. A. PROC- 
 TOR, E. CLODD, A. WILSON, T. FOSTER 
 and A. C. RANYARD. Cr. 8vo. , 35. 6d. 
 
 * f * For Mr. Proctor's other books see pp. 17 
 and 35, and Messrs. Longmans &> Co 's Cata- 
 
 Infrtif nf Srimtific Wnrks.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 31 
 
 Popular Science (Natural History, &e.) continued. 
 
 Stanley. A FAMILIAR HISTORY OF 
 BIRDS. By E. STANLEY, D.D., formerly 
 Bishop of Norwich. With 160 Illustrations. 
 Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Wood (Rev. J. G.). 
 
 HOMES WITHOUT HANDS: A Descrip- 
 tion of the Habitations of Animals, classed 
 according to their Principle of Construc- 
 tion. With 140 Illustrations. 8vo., gilt 
 top, 7s. net. 
 
 Wood (Rev. J. G.) continued. 
 
 OUT OF DOORS; a Selection of 
 
 Original Articles on Practical Natural 
 
 History. With n Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 
 35. 6d. 
 
 PETLAND REVISITED. With 33 
 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 INSECTS A T HOME : A Popular Ac- 
 count of British Insects, their Structure, 
 Habits and Transformations. With 700 
 Illustrations. 8vo. , gilt top, 75. net. 
 
 STRANGE DWELLINGS : a Description 
 of the Habitations of Animals, abridged 
 from ' Homes without Hands '. With 60 
 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Works of Reference. 
 
 Gwilt. AN ENCYCLOPEDIA OF AR- 
 CHITECTURE. By JOSEPH GWILT, F.S.A. 
 With 1700 Engravings. Revised (1888), 
 with Alterations and Considerable Addi- 
 tions by WYATT PAPWORTH. 8vo., 2is. 
 net. 
 
 Maunder (SAMUEL). 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL TREASURY. With 
 Supplement brought down to 1889. By 
 Rev. JAMES WOOD. Fcp. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 TREASURY OF GEOGRAPHY, Physical, 
 Historical, Descriptive, and Political. 
 With 7 Maps and 16 Plates. Fcp. 8vo., 
 6s. 
 
 THE TREASURY OF BIBLE KNOW- 
 LEDGE. By the Rev. J. AYRE, M.A. With 
 5 Maps, 15 Plates, and 300 Woodcuts. 
 Fcp. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 TREASURY OF KNOWLEDGE AND LIB- 
 RARY OF REFERENCE. Fcp. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Maunder (SAMUEL) continued. 
 
 HISTORICAL TREASURY. Fcp. 8vo., 
 6s. 
 
 THE TREA SURYOF Bo TA NY. Edited 
 by J. LINDLEY, F.R.S., and T. MOORE, 
 F.L.S. With 274 Woodcuts and 20 Steel 
 Plates. 2 vols. Fcp. 8vo., i2s. 
 
 Roget. THESAURUS OF ENGLISH 
 WORDS AND PHRASES. Classified and Ar- 
 ranged so as to Facilitate the Expression of 
 Ideas and assist in Literary Composition. 
 By PETER MARK ROGET, M.D., F.R.S. 
 Recomposed throughout, enlarged and im- 
 proved, partly from the Author's Notes, and 
 with a full Index, by the Author's Son, 
 JOHN LEWIS ROGET. Crown 8vo., gs. net. 
 
 Willich.-- POPULAR TABLES for giving 
 information for ascertaining the value of 
 Lifehold, Leasehold, and Church Property, 
 the Public Funds, etc. By CHARLES M. 
 WILLICH. Edited by H. BENCE JONES. 
 Crown 8vo., ros. 6d.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Children's Books. 
 
 Adelborg-. CLEAN PETER AND THE 
 CHILDREN OF GRUBBY LEA. By OTTILIA 
 ADELBORG. Translated from the Swedish 
 by Mrs. GRAHAM WALLAS. With 23 
 Coloured Plates. Oblong 410., boards, 
 35. 6d. net. 
 
 Brown. THE BOOK OF SAINTS AND 
 FRIENDLY BEASTS. By ABBIE FARWELL 
 BROWN. With 8 Illustrations by FANNY Y. 
 CORY. Crown 8vo., 45. 6d. net. 
 
 Buckland. TWOLITTLERUNA WA YS. 
 
 Adapted from the French of Louis DES- 
 NOYERS. By JAMES BUCKLAND. With no 
 Illustrations by CECIL ALDIN. Cr. 8vo., 6s. 
 
 Crake (Rev. A. D.). 
 
 EDWY THE FAIR ; or, The First 
 Chronicle of ./Escendune. Cr. 8vo. , silver 
 top, 25. net. 
 
 ALFGAR THE DANE ; or, The Second 
 Chronicle of ^Escendune. Cr. 8vo., silver 
 top, is. net. 
 
 THE RIVAL HEIRS : being the Third 
 and Last Chronicle of ^Escendune. Cr. 
 8vo., silver top, is. net. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF WALDERNE. A Tale 
 of the Cloister and the Forest in the Days 
 of the Barons' Wars. Crown 8vo., silver 
 top, is. net. 
 
 BRIAN FITZ- COUNT. A Story of 
 Wallingford Castle and Dorchester 
 Abbey. Cr. 8vo., silver top, is. net. 
 
 Henty (G. A.). EDITED BY. 
 
 YULE LOGS : A Story-Book for Boys. 
 By VARIOUS AUTHORS. With 61 Illus- 
 trations. Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 35. net. 
 
 YULE TIDE YARNS: a Story-Book 
 for Boys. By VARIOUS AUTHORS. With 
 45 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., gilt edges, 35. 
 
 Lang; (ANDREW). EDITED BY. 
 
 THE VIOLET FAIRY BOOK. With 8 
 Coloured Plates and 54 other Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK. With 138 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 65. 
 
 THE RED FAIRY BOOK. With 100 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE GREEN FAIRY BOOK. With 99 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE GREY FAIRY BOOK. With 65 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE YELLOW FAIRY BOOK. With 
 104 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE PINK FAIRY BOOK. With 67 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE BL UE POETR Y BOOK. With i oo 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE TRUE STORY BOOK. With 66 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE RED TR UE STOR Y BOOK. With 
 
 100 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE ANIMAL STORY BOOK. With 
 67 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 THE RED BOOK OF ANIMAL STORIES. 
 
 With 65 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., gilt 
 edges, 6s. 
 
 THE ARABIAN NIGHTS ENTERTAIN- 
 MENTS. With 66 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 
 gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 Meade (L. T.). 
 
 DADDY'S BOY. With 8 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., gilt edges, y. net. 
 
 DEB AND THE DUCHESS. With 7 
 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., gilt edges, 35. net. 
 
 THE BERESFORD PRIZE. With 7 
 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., gilt edges, 35. net. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF SURPRISES. With 6 
 
 TIlnetraHnnc P.r Kvn trilt e-Ave-K. is. net.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 33 
 
 Children's Books continued. 
 
 Murray. FLOWER LEGENDS FOR 
 CHILDREN. By HILDA MURRAY (the Hon. 
 Mrs. MURRAY of Elibank). Pictured by J. 
 S. ELAND. With numerous Coloured and 
 other Illustrations. Oblong 4to., 6s. 
 
 Praeger (ROSAMOND). 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF THE THREE 
 BOLD BABES: HECTOR, HONORIA AND 
 ALISANDER. A Story in Pictures. With 
 24 Coloured Plates and 24 Outline Pic- 
 tures. Oblong 410., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE FUR THER DOINGS OF THE THREE 
 BOLD BABES. With 24 Coloured Pictures 
 and 24 Outline Pictures. Oblong ^lo.,^s.6d. 
 
 Roberts. THE ADVENTURES OF 
 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH : Captain of Two 
 Hundred and Fifty Horse, and sometime 
 President of Virginia. By E. P. ROBERTS. 
 With 17 Illustrations and 3 Maps. Crown 
 8vo., 55. net. [Nearly ready. 
 
 Stevenson. A CHILD'S GARDEN OF 
 VERSES. By ROBERT Louis STEVENSON. 
 Fcp. 8vo., gilt top, 5$. 
 
 Tappan. OLD BALLADS IN PROSE. 
 
 By EVA MARCH TAPPAN. With 4 Illus- 
 trations by FANNY Y. CORY. Crown 8vo., 
 gilt top, 45. 6d. net. 
 
 Upton (FLORENCE K. AND BERTHA). 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF Two DUTCH 
 DOLLS AND A ' GOLLIWOGG'. With 31 
 Coloured Plates and numerous Illustra- 
 tions in the Text. Oblong 410., 6s. 
 
 THE GOLLIWOGG' s BICYCLE CLUB. 
 With 31 Coloured Plates and numerous 
 Illustrations in the Text. Oblong 410., 6s. 
 
 THE GOLLIWOGG AT THE SEASIDE. 
 With 31 Coloured Plates and numerous 
 Illustrations in the Text. Oblong 410. , 65. 
 
 THE GOLLIWOGG IN WAR. With 31 
 Coloured Plates. Oblong 4to., 6s. 
 
 THE GOLLIWOGG'S POLAR ADVEV- 
 TURES. With 31 Coloured Plates. Ob- 
 long 410., 6s. 
 
 THE GOLLIWOGG'S AUTO-GO-CART. 
 With 31 Coloured Plates and numerous 
 Illustrations in the Text. Oblong 410., 6s. 
 
 THE VEGE-MEN"S REVENGE. With 
 31 Coloured Plates and numerous Illus- 
 trations in the Text. Oblong 410., 6s. 
 
 The Silver Library. 
 
 CROWN 8vo. 35. 6d. EACH VOLUME. 
 
 Arnold's (Sir Edwin) Seas and Lands. With 
 71 Illustrations. y. 6d. 
 
 Bagehot's (W.) Biographical Studies, y. 6d. 
 Bagehot's (W.) Economic Studies. y. 6d. 
 
 Bage hot's I W.) Literary Studies. With Portrait. 
 3 vols., y. 6d. each. 
 
 Baker's (Sir S. W.) Eight Years in Ceylon. 
 
 With 6 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Baker's (Sir S. W.) Rifle and Hound in Ceylon. 
 
 With 6 Illustrations. y. 6d. 
 
 Baring-Gould's (Rev. S.) Curious Myths of the 
 Middle Ages. 3*. 6d. 
 
 Baring-Gould's (Rev. S.) Origin and Develop- 
 ment of Religious Belief. 2 vols. 3-r. 6</. each. 
 
 Becker's ( W. A.) Callus : or, Roman Scenes in the 
 Time of Augustus. With 26 Illus. y. 6d. 
 
 Becker's ( W. A.) Char ides : or, Illustrations of 
 
 the Private Life of the Ancient Greeks. 
 
 With 26 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 Bent's (J. T.) The Ruined Cities of Mashona- 
 
 land. With 117 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 Brassey's (Lady) A Voyage in the ' Sunbeam '. 
 
 With 66 Illustrations. 3.5. 6d. 
 Buckle's (H. T.) History of Civilisation in 
 
 England, France, Spain and Scotland. 3 
 
 vols. aos. 6d. 
 Churchill's (W. Spencer) The Story of the 
 
 Malakand Field Force, 1807. With 6 Maps 
 
 and Plans. 35. 6d. 
 Clodd's (E.) Story of Creation : a Plain Account 
 
 of Evolution. With 77 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 Conybeare (Rev. W. J.) and Howson's (Very 
 
 Rev. J. S.) Life and Epistles of St. Paul. 
 
 With 46 Illustrations. 3^. 6d. 
 Dougall's (L.) Beggars All : a Novel, y. 6d. 
 Doyle's (Sir A. Conan) Micah Clarke. A Tale of 
 
 Monmoutn's Rebellion. With 10 Illusts. y.6d.
 
 34 
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 The Silver Library continued. 
 
 Doyle's (Sir A. Conan) The Captain of the 
 Polestar, and other Tales. y. 6d. 
 
 Doyle's (Sir A. Conan) The Refugees : A Tale of 
 the Huguenots. With 25 Illustrations. 356^. 
 
 Doyle's (Sir A. Conan) The Stark Munro Letters. 
 
 y. 6d. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) The History of England, from 
 the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the 
 Spanish Armada. 12 vols. y. 6d. each. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) The English in Ireland. 3 vols. 
 ioj. 6d. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) The Divorce of Catherine of 
 Aragon. y. 6d. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) The Spanish Story of the 
 
 Armada, and other Essays, y. 6d. 
 
 Froude's (J. A. ) English Seamen in the Sixteenth 
 Century. y. 6d. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) Short Studies on Great Sub- 
 jects. 4 vols. 35. 6d. each. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) Oceana, or England and Her 
 Colonies. With 9 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) The Council of Trent. y. 6d. \ 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) The Life and Letters of 
 
 Erasmus. 35. 6ii. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) Thomas Carlyle : a History of 
 his Life. 
 1795-1835. 2 vols. 7s. 1834-1881. 2 vols. 73. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) Caesar : a Sketch. 35. 6d. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) The Two Chiefs of Dunboy : an 
 
 Irish Romance of the Last Century, y. 6d. 
 
 Froude's (J. A.) Writings, Selections from. 
 
 y. 6d. 
 
 Oleig's (Rev. G. R.) Life of the Duke of 
 Wellington. With Portrait, y. 6d. 
 
 Greville's (C. C. F.) Journal of the Reigns of 
 King George IV., King William IV., and 
 Queen Victoria. 8 vols., 35. 6d. each. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) She : A History of Adventure. 
 With 32 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Allan Quatermain. With 
 20 Illustrations. 3;. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Colonel Quaritch, V.C. : a 
 Tale of Country Life. With Frontispiece 
 and Vignette, y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Cleopatra. With 29 Illustra- 
 tions. 3.1. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Eric Brighteyes. With 51 
 Illustrations. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Beatrice. With Frontispiece 
 and Vignette, y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Allan's Wife. With 34 Illus- 
 trations, y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard (H. R.) Heart of the World. With 
 15 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Hontezuma's Daughter. With 
 25 Illustrations. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Swallow : a Tale of the Great 
 Trek. With 8 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) The Witch's Head. With 
 16 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Mr. Heeson's Will. With 
 16 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Mada the Lily. With 23 
 Illustrations. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H.R.) Dawn. With i6Illusts. y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) The People of the Mist. With 
 16 Illustrations. 35. 6d. 
 
 Haggard's (H. R.) Joan Haste. With 20 Illus- 
 trations, y. 6d. 
 
 Haggard (H. R.) and Lang's (A.) The World's 
 Desire. W r ith 27 Illustrations. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Harte's (Bret) In the Carquinez Woods and 
 other Stories, y. 6d. 
 
 Helmholtz's (Hermann von) Popular Lectures 
 on Scientific Subjects. With 68 Illustrations. 
 2 vols. y. 6d. each. 
 
 Hope's (Anthony) The Heart of Princess Osra. 
 
 With 9 Illustrations. - 3^. 6d. 
 
 Hewitt's (W.) Visits to Remarkable Places. 
 
 With 80 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Jefferies' (R.) The Story of My Heart: My 
 
 Autobiography. With Portrait, y. 6d. 
 
 Jefferies' (R.) Field and Hedgerow. With 
 Portrait. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Jefferies' (R.) Red Deer. With 17 Illusts. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Jefferies' (R.) Wood Magic: a Fable. With 
 Frontispiece and Vignette by E. V. B. 3*. 6d. 
 
 Jefferies (R.) The Toilers of the Field. With 
 Portrait from the Bust in Salisbury Cathedral. 
 y.6d. 
 
 Kaye (Sir J.) and Malleson's (Colonel) History 
 of the Indian Mutiny of 1857-8. 6 vols. 
 3^. 6</. each. 
 
 Knight's (E. F.) The Cruise of the 'Alerte': 
 the Narrative of a Search for Treasure on 
 the Desert Island of Trinidad. With a 
 Maps and 23 Illustrations. 3^. 6d.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 35 
 
 The Silver Library continued. 
 
 Knight's (E. F.) Where Three Empires Meet: a 
 
 Narrative of Recent Travel in Kashmir, 
 Western Tibet, Baltistan, Gilgit. With a Map 
 and 54 Illustrations. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Knight's (E. F.) The 'Falcon' on the Baltic: a 
 
 Coasting Voyage from Hammersmith to 
 Copenhagen in a Three-Ton Yacht. With 
 Map and n Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Kbstlin's (J.) Life of Luther. With 62 Illustra- 
 tions and 4 Facsimiles of MSS. 35. 6d. 
 
 Lang's (A.) Angling Sketches. With 20 Illustra- 
 tions. 3.?. 6d. 
 
 Lang's (A.) Custom and Myth : Studies of Early 
 Usage and Belief. y. 6d. 
 
 Lang'sCA.)CockLaneandCommon-8ense. y. 6d. 
 
 Lang's (A.) The Book of Dreams and Ghosts, 
 
 y. 6d. 
 
 Lang's (A.) A Monk of Fife : a Story of the 
 Days of Joan of Arc. With 13 Illustrations. 
 y. 6d. 
 
 Lang's (A.) Myth, Ritual, and Religion. 2 vols. 71. 
 
 Lees (J. A.) and Clutterbuck's (W. J.) B.C. 
 1887, A Ramble in British Columbia. With 
 Maps and 75 Illustrations, y. 6d 
 
 Levett- Years' (S.) The Chevalier D'Auriac. 
 
 jj. 6d. 
 
 Macaulay's (Lord) Complete Works. ' Albany ' 
 Edition. With 12 Portraits. 12 vols. y. 6d. 
 each. 
 
 Macaulay's (Lord) Essays and Lays of Ancient 
 Rome, etc. With Portrait and 4 Illustrations 
 to the ' Lays '. 3.5. 6d. 
 
 Macleod's (H. D.) Elements of Banking. y.6d. \ 
 
 Marshman's (J. C.) Memoirs of Sir Henry 
 Havelock. y. 6d. 
 
 Mason (A. E. W.) and Lang's (A.) Parson Kelly, j 
 
 y. 6d. 
 
 Herivale's (Dean) History of the Romans 
 under the Empire. 8 vols. y. 6d. each. 
 
 Merriman's (H. S.) Flotsam : A Tale of the i 
 Indian Mutiny. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Mill's (J. S.) Political Economy, y. 6d. 
 Mill's (J. S.) System of Logic, y. 6d. 
 
 Milner's (Geo.) Country Pleasures : the Chroni- 
 cle of i Year chiefly in a Garden, y. 6d. 
 
 Nansen's (F.) The First Crossing of Greenland. 
 
 With 142 Illustrations and a Map. y. 6d. 
 
 Phillipps-Wolley's (C.) Snap : a Legend of the 
 Lone Mountain With 13 Illustrations. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Proctor's (R. A.) The Orbs Around Us. y. 6d. 
 Proctor's (R. A.) The Expanse of Heaven, y. 6d. 
 
 Proctor's (R. A.) Light Science for Leisure 
 Hours. First Series, y. 6d. 
 
 Proctor's (R. A.) The Moon. y. 6d. 
 Proctor's (R. A.) Other Worlds than Ours. y.6d. 
 
 Proctor's (R. A.) Our Place among Infinities : 
 
 a Series of Essays contrasting our Little 
 Abode in Space and Time with the Infinities 
 around us. y. 6d. 
 
 Proctor's (R. A.) Other Suns than Ours. y. 6d. 
 
 Proctor's (R. A.) Rough Ways made Smooth. 
 
 y. 6d. 
 
 Proctor's(R.A.)PleasantWaysin Science. y.6d. 
 
 Proctor's (R. A.) Myths and Marvels of As- 
 tronomy, y. 6d. 
 
 Proctor's (R. A.) Nature Studies, y. 6d. 
 
 Proctor's (R. A.) Leisure Readings. By R. A. 
 PROCTOR, EDWARD CLODD, ANDREW 
 WILSON, THOMAS FOSTER, and A. C. 
 RANYARD. With Illustrations. y. 6d. 
 
 Rossetti's (Maria F.) A Shadow of Dante, y. 6d. 
 
 Smith's (R. Bosworth) Carthage and the Cartha- 
 ginians. With Maps, Plans, etc. y. 6d. 
 
 Stanley's (Bishop) Familiar History of Birds. 
 
 With 160 Illustrations. 3*. 6d. 
 
 Stephen's (L.) The Playground of Europe (The 
 Alps). With 4 Illustrations. 35. 6d. 
 
 Stevenson's (R. L.) The Strange Case of Dr. 
 Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; with other Fables, y.bd. 
 
 Stevenson (R. L.) and Osbourne's (LI.) The 
 Wrong Box. 35. 6d. 
 
 Stevenson (Robert Louis) and Stevenson's 
 (Fanny van de Grift) More New Arabian 
 Nights. The Dynamiter. y. 6d. 
 
 Trevelyan's (Sir G. 0.) The Early History of 
 Charles James Fox. y. 6d. 
 
 Weyman's (Stanley J.) The House of the 
 Wolf : a Romance. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Wood's (Rev. J. G.) Petland Revisited. With 
 33 Illustrations 35. 6d. 
 
 Wood's (Rev. J. G.) Strange Dwellings. With 
 60 Illustrations, y. 6d. 
 
 Wood's (Rev. J. G.) Out of Doors. With n 
 Illustrations. 3^. 6d.
 
 3 6 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Cookery, Domestic Management, &e. 
 
 De Sails (Mrs.) continued. 
 
 LA MODE. Fcp. 8vo., 
 
 Fcp. Svo., 
 
 Acton. MODERN COOKERY. By 
 ELIZA ACTON. With 150 Woodcuts. Fcp. 
 Svo., 4s. 6d. 
 
 Angwin. -SIMPLE HIXTS ON CHOICE 
 
 OF FOOD, with Tested and Economical 
 Recipes. For Schools, Homes, and Classes 
 for Technical Instruction. By M. C. ANGWIN, 
 Diplomate (First Class) of the National 
 Union for the Technical Training of Women, 
 etc. Crown Svo., is. 
 
 Ashby. HEALTH IN THE NURSERY. 
 By HENRY ASHBY, M.D., F.R.C.P., Physi- 
 cian to the Manchester Children's Hospital. 
 With 25 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. net. 
 
 Bull (THOMAS, M.D.). 
 
 HINTS TO MOTHERS ON THE MAN- 
 AGE.\{B^ T OF THEIR HEALTH DURING THE 
 PERIOD OF PREGNANCY. Fcp. 8vo., sewed, 
 15. 6d. ; cloth, gilt edges, 25. net. 
 
 THE MATERNAL MANAGEMENT OF 
 CHILDREN IN HEALTH AND /DISEASE. 
 Fcp. 8vo., sewed, is. 6d. ; cloth, gilt 
 edges, 2s. net. 
 
 De Salis (Mrs.). 
 
 A LA MODE COOKERY: Up-to- 
 date Recipes. With 24 Plates (16 in j 
 Colour). Crown Svo. ,55. net. 
 
 CAKES AND CONFECTIONS 2 LA 
 MODE. Fcp. 8vo., is. bd. 
 
 DOGS: A Manual for Amateurs. 
 Fcp. 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 DRESSED GAME AND POULTRY A LA 
 MODE. Fcp. 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 DRESSED VEGETABLES A LA MODE. 
 
 Fcp. 8vo., is 6d. 
 DRINKS A LA MODE. Fcp. Svo., is. 6d. 
 
 ENTREES A 
 is. 6d. 
 
 FLORAL DECORATIONS. 
 
 is. 6rf. 
 
 GARDENING A LA MODE. Fcp. Svo. 
 Part I., Vegetables, is. 6d. Part II., 
 Fruits, is. 6d. 
 
 NATIONAL VIANDS A LA MODE. Fcp. 
 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 NEW-LAID EGGS. Fcp. 8vo., is. 6d. 
 OYSTERS A LA MODE. Fcp. Svo., 
 
 is. 6d. 
 
 PUDDINGS AND PASTRY A LA MODE. 
 Fcp. 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 SAVOURIES A LA MODE. Fcp. Svo., 
 is.6d. 
 
 SOUPS AND DRESSED FISH A LA 
 MODE. Fcp. 8vo., is. td. 
 
 SWEETS AND SUPPER DISHES A LA 
 MODE. Fcp. 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 TEMPTING DISHES FOR SMALL IN- 
 COMES. Fcp. 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 WRINKLES AND NOTIONS FOR 
 EVERY HOUSEHOLD. Crown 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 Lear. MAIGRE COOKERY. By H. L. 
 SIDNEY LEAR. i6mo., 2s. 
 
 Poole. COOKERY FOR THE DIABETIC. 
 By W. H. and Mrs. POOLE. With Preface 
 by Dr. PAVY. Fcp. 8vo., 2s. 6d. 
 
 Rotheram. HOUSEHOLD COOKERY 
 RECIPES. By M. A. ROTHERAM, First Class 
 Diplomee, National Training School of 
 Cookery, London ; Instructress to the Bed- 
 fordshire County Council. Crown 8vo., 2s. 
 
 The Fine Arts and Music. 
 
 Burns and Colenso. LIVING ANA- 
 TOMY. By CECIL L. BURNS, R.B.A., and 
 ROBERT J. COLENSO, M.A., M.D. 40 Plates, 
 nj by 8j ins., each Plate containing Two 
 Figures (a) A Natural Male or Female 
 Figure ; (b) The same Figure Anatomatised. 
 In a Portfolio, 75. 6d. net. 
 
 Hamlin. A TEXT-BOOK OF THE 
 HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE. By A. D. F. 
 HAMLIN, A.M. With 229 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 
 Haweis (Rev. H. R.). 
 
 Music AND MORALS. With Portrait 
 of the Author, and numerous Illustrations, 
 Facsimiles, and Diagrams. Cr. 8vo.,6s.net. 
 
 MY MUSICAL LIFE. With Portrait 
 of Richard Wagner and 3 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 6s. net.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 37 
 
 The Fine Arts and Music continued. 
 
 Huish, Head, and Longman. 
 
 SAMPLERS AND TAPESTRY EMBROIDERIES. 
 By MARCUS B. HUISH, LL.B. ; also 'The 
 Stitchery of the Same,' by Mrs. HEAD ; 
 and ' Foreign Samplers,' by Mrs. C. J. 
 LONGMAN. With 30 Reproductions in 
 Colour, and 40 Illustrations in Mono- 
 chrome. 410., 2 zs. net. 
 
 Hullah. THE HISTORY OF MODERN 
 Music. By JOHN HULLAH. 8vo., 8s. 6d. 
 
 Jameson (Mrs. ANNA). 
 
 SACRED AND LEGENDARY ART, con- 
 taining Legends of the Angels and Arch- 
 angels, the Evangelists, the Apostles, the 
 Doctors of the Church, St. Mary Mag- 
 dalene, the Patron Saints, the Martyrs, 
 the Early Bishops, the Hermits, and the 
 Warrior-Saints of Christendom, as repre- 
 sented in the Fine Arts. With 19 Etchings 
 and 187 Woodcuts. 2 vols. 8vo., 2os. net. 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE MONASTIC ORDERS, 
 as represented in the Fine Arts, com- 
 prising the Benedictines and Augustines, 
 and Orders derived from their Rules, the 
 Mendicant Orders, the Jesuits, and the 
 Order of the Visitation of St. Mary. With 
 ii Etchings and 88 Woodcuts. i vol. 
 8vo., 105. net. 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE MADONNA, OR 
 BLESSED VIRGINMARY. Devotional with 
 and without the Infant Jesus, Historical 
 from the Annunciation to the Assumption, 
 as represented in Sacred and Legendary 
 Christian Art. With 27 Etchings and 
 165 Woodcuts, i vol. 8vo., IDS. net. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF OUR LORD, as ex- 
 emplified in Works of Art, with that of 
 His Types, St. John the Baptist, and 
 other persons of the Old and New Testa- 
 ment. Commenced by the late Mrs. 
 JAMESON ; continued and completed by 
 LADY EASTLAKE. With 31 Etchings 
 and 281 Woodcuts. 2" vols. 8vo., 205. net. 
 
 Kristeller. ANDREA MA NTEGNA . 
 By PAUL KRISTELLER. English Edition by 
 S. ARTHUR STRONG, M.A., Librarian to the 
 House of Lords, and at Chatsworth. With 
 26 Photogravure Plates and 162 Illustrations 
 in the Text. 410., gilt top, ,3 105. net. 
 
 Macfarren. LECTURES ON HAR- 
 MONY. By Sir GEORGE A. MACFARREN. 
 
 8VO., 125. 
 
 Morris (WILLIAM). 
 
 HOPES AND FEARS FOR ART. Five 
 Lectures delivered in Birmingham, Lon- 
 don, etc., in 1878-1881. Cr 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 AN ADDRESS DELIVERED A T THE . 
 DISTRIBUTION OF PRIZES TO STUDENTS 
 OF THE BIRMINGHAM MUNICIPAL SCHOOL 
 OF ART ON 2isT FEBRUARY, 1894. 8vo., 
 25. 6d. net. (Printed in ' Golden ' Type.) 
 
 ART AND THE BEAUTY OF THE 
 EARTH: a Lecture delivered at Burslem 
 Town Hall, on October 13, 1881. 8vo., 
 25. 6d. net. (Printed in ' Golden ' Type.) 
 
 SOME HINTS ON PATTERN-DESIGN- 
 ING : a Lecture delivered at the Working 
 Men's College, London, on loth Decem- 
 ber, 1881. 8vo., 25. 6d. net. (Printed in 
 ' Golden ' Type.) 
 
 ARTS AND ITS PRODUCERS (1888) 
 AND THE ARTS AND CRAFTS OF TO-DAY 
 (1889). 8vo., 25. 6d. net. (Printed in 
 ' Golden ' Type.) 
 
 ARCHITECTURE AND HISTORY, AND 
 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Two Papers 
 read before the Society for the Protection 
 of Ancient Buildings. 8vo., 25. 6d. net. 
 (Printed in ' Golden ' Type.) 
 
 ARTS AND CRAFTS ESSAYS. By 
 Members of the Arts and Crafts Exhibition 
 Society. With a Preface by WILLIAM 
 MORRIS. Crown 8vo., 25. 6d. net. 
 
 %* For Mr. William Morris's other 
 Works, see pp. 24, 27, 28 and 40. 
 
 Van Dyke. A TEXT-BOOK ON THE 
 HISTORY OF PAINTING. By JOHN C. VAN 
 DYKE. With no Illustrations. Cr. 8vo., 65. 
 
 Willard. HISTORY OF MODERN 
 ITALIAN ART. By ASHTON ROLLINS 
 WILLARD. With Photogravure Frontis- 
 piece and 28 Full-page Illustns. 8vo.,i85.net. 
 
 Wellington. A DESCRIPTIVE AND 
 HISTORICAL CATALOGUE OF THE COLLEC- 
 TIONS OF PICTURES AND SCULPTURE AT 
 APSLEY HOUSE, LONDON. By EVELYN, 
 Duchess of Wellington. Illustrated by 52 
 Photo-Engravings, specially executed by 
 BRAUN, CLEMENT, & Co., of Paris. 2 vols., 
 royal 410., 6 6s. net.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Miscellaneous and Critical Works. 
 
 Annals of Mathematics (under the 
 
 Auspices of Harvard University). Issued 
 Quarterly. 410., 2s. net each number. 
 
 Geikie. THE VICAR AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 Reported by CUNNINGHAM GEIKIE, D.D., 
 LL.D. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Bagehot. LITERARY STUDIES. By 
 WALTER BAGEHOT. With Portrait. 3 vols. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. each. 
 
 Baker. EDUCA TION AND LIFE : 
 Papers and Addresses. By JAMES H. 
 BAKER, M.A., LL.D. Crown 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 Baring-Gould. CURIOUS MYTHS OF 
 THE MIDDLE AGES. By Rev. S. BARING- 
 GOULD. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Baynes. SHAKESPEARE STUDIES, 
 and other Essays. By the late THOMAS 
 SPENCER BAYNES, LL.B., LL.D. With a 
 Biographical Preface by Professor LEWIS 
 CAMPBELL. Crown 8vo., 75. 6d. 
 
 Charities Register, The Annual, 
 
 AND DIGEST: being a Classified Register 
 of Charities in or available in the Metropolis. 
 8vo., 45. 
 
 Christie. SELECTED Ess A YS. By 
 RICHARD COPLEY CHRISTIE, M.A., Oxon. 
 Hon. LL.D., Viet. With 2 Portraits and 3 
 other Illustrations. 8vo., 123. net. 
 
 Dickinson. KING ARTHUR IN CORN- 
 WALL, By W. HOWSHIP DICKINSON, M.D. 
 With 5 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 45. 6d. 
 
 Essays in Paradox. By the Author 
 
 of ' Exploded Ideas ' and ' Times and 
 Days '. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Evans. THE ANCIENT STONE IM- 
 PLEMENTS, WEAPONS AND 'ORNAMENTS OP 
 GREAT BRITAIN. By Sir JOHN EVANS, 
 K.C.B. With 537 Illustrations. 8vo., 285. 
 
 Exploded Ideas,A&D OTHER ESSAYS. 
 
 By the Author of 'Times and Days'. Cr. 
 8vo., 55. 
 
 Frost. A MEDLEY BOOK. By 
 GEORGE FROST. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. net. 
 
 Haggard. A FARMER'S YEAR : 
 
 being his Commonplace Book for 1898. 
 By H. RIDER HAGGARD. With 36 Illus- 
 trations. Crown 8vo., js. 6d. net. 
 
 Hodgson. OUTCAST ESSAYS AND 
 VERSE TRANSLATIONS. By SHADWORTH 
 H. HODGSON, LL.D. Crown 8vo., 8s. 6d. 
 
 Hoenig. INQUIRIES CONCERNING 
 THE TACTICS OP THE FUTURE. By FRITZ 
 HOENIG. With i Sketch in the Text and 5 
 Maps. Translated by Captain H. M. BOWER. 
 8vo., 155. net. 
 
 Hutchinson. DREAMS AND THEIR 
 MEANINGS. By HORACE G. HUTCHINSON. 
 8vo., gilt top, gs. 6d. net. 
 
 Jefferies (RICHARD). 
 
 FIELD AND HEDGEROW: With Por- 
 trait. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE STORY OF MY HEART: my 
 Autobiography. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 RED DEER. With 17 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE TOILERS OF THE FIELD. Crown 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 WOOD MAGIC : 
 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 a Fable. Crown 
 
 Jekyll (GERTRUDE). 
 
 HOME AND GARDEN: Notes and 
 Thoughts, Practical and Critical, of a 
 Worker in both. With 53 Illustrations 
 from Photographs. 8vo., IDS. 6d. net. 
 
 WOOD AND GARDEN: Notes and 
 Thoughts, Practical and Critical, of a 
 Working Amateur. With 71 Photographs. 
 8vo., IDS. 6d. net.
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 39 
 
 Miscellaneous and Critical Works continued. 
 
 Johnson (J. & J. H.). 
 
 THE PATENTEE'S MANUAL : a 
 Treatise on the Law and Practice of 
 Letters Patent. 8vo., los. 6d. 
 
 AN EPITOME OF THE LAW AND 
 PRACTICE CONNECTED WITH PATENTS 
 FOR INVENTIONS, with a reprint of the 
 Patents Acts of 1883, 1885, 1886 and 
 Crown 8vo., is. 6d. 
 
 Joyce. THE ORIGIN AND HISTORY 
 OF IRISH NAMES OF PLACES. By P. W. 
 JOYCE, LL.D. 2 vols. Crown 8vo., 55. each. 
 
 Lang (ANDREW). 
 
 LETTERS TO DEAD AUTHORS. Fcp. 
 8vo., 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 BOOKS AND BOOKMEN. With 2 
 Coloured Plates and 17 Illustrations. 
 Fcp. 8vo., 23. 6d. net. 
 
 OLD FRIENDS. Fcp. 8vo., as. 6d. net. 
 
 LETTERS ON LITERATURE. Fcp. 
 8vo., 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 ESSAYS IN LITTLE. With Portrait 
 of the Author. Crown 8vo., 2*. 6d. 
 
 CocK< LANE AND COMMON-SENSE. 
 Crown 8vo., 3$. 6d. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DREAMS AND GHOSTS. 
 Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Maryon. How THE GARDEN GREW. 
 By MAUD MARYO^. With 4 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Matthews. NOTES ON SPEECH- 
 MAKING. By BRANDER MATTHEWS. Fcp. 
 8vo., ii. 6d. net. 
 
 Max Miiller (The Right Hon. F.). 
 
 COLLECTED WORKS. iSvols. Crown 
 8vo., 55. each. 
 
 Vol. I. NATURAL RELIGION: the Gifford 
 Lectures, 1888. 
 
 Vol. II. PHYSICAL RELIGION: the Gifford 
 Lectures, 1890. 
 
 Vol. III. ANTHROPOLOGICAL RELIGION: 
 the Gifford Lectures, 1891. 
 
 Vol. IV. THEOSOPHY; or, Psychological 
 Religion : the Gifford Lectures, 1892. 
 
 CHIPS FROM A GERMAN WORKSHOP. 
 Vol. V. Recent Essays and Addresses. 
 Vol. VI. Biographical Essays. 
 
 Vol. VII. Essays on Language and Litera- 
 ture. 
 
 Vol. VIII. Essays on Mythology and 
 Folk-lore. 
 
 Vol. IX. THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF 
 RELIGION, as Illustrated by the Re- 
 ligions of India : the Hibbert Lectures, 
 1878. 
 
 Vol. X. BIOGRAPHIES OF WORDS, AND 
 
 THE HOME OF THE ARYAS. 
 
 Vols. XL, XII. THE SCIENCE OF 
 LANGUAGE : Founded on Lectures de- 
 livered at the Royal Institution in 1861 
 and 1863. 2 vols. 105. 
 
 Vol. XIII. INDIA : What can it Teach 
 Us? 
 
 Vol. XIV. INTRODUCTION TO THE 
 SCIENCE OF RELIGION. Four Lectures, 
 1870. 
 
 Vol. XV. 'RAMAKRISHKA : his Life and 
 Sayings. 
 
 Vol. XVI. THREE LECTURES ON THE 
 VEDA NT A PHILOSOPHY, 1894. 
 
 Vol. XVII. LAST ESSAYS. First Series. 
 Essays on Language, Folk-lore, etc. 
 
 Vol. XVIII. LAST ESSAYS. Second Series. 
 Essays on the Science of Religion.
 
 4 o MESSRS. LONGMANS & CO.'S STANDARD AND GENERAL WORKS. 
 
 Miscellaneous and Critical Works continued. 
 
 Milner. COUNTRY PLEASURES: the Soulsby (Lucv H. M.) continued. 
 Chronicle of a Year chiefly in a Garden. 
 
 By GEORGE MILNER. Crown 8vo., 35. bd. STRAY THOUGHTS FOR INVALIDS. 
 
 i6mo., 25. net. 
 
 Morris.-^ OF CHANGE Seven , SrRAy TffOUGHTS ON CHARACTER. 
 Lectures delivered on various Occasions. - t? C j 
 
 By WILLIAM MORKIS. Post 8vo., 4 s. 6d. Fc P" 8v " 25 ' 6d ' net " 
 
 Parker and Unwin. THE ART OF 
 
 BUILDING A HOME : a Collection of 
 Lectures and Illustrations. By BARRY 
 PARKER and RAYMOND UNWIN. With 68 
 Full-page Plates. 8vo., los. 6d. net. 
 
 Pollock. JANE AUSTEN: her Con- 
 temporaries and Herself. By WALTER 
 HERRIES POLLOCK. Cr. 8vo., 35. 6d. net. 
 
 Poore (GEORGE VIVIAN, M.D.). 
 
 SSA YS ON RURAL HYGIENE. With 
 13 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 65. 6rf. 
 
 THE DWELLING HOUSE. With 36 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 THE EARTH IN RELATION TO THE 
 PRESERVATION AND DESTRUCTION OF 
 CONTAGIA : being the Milroy Lectures 
 delivered at the Royal College of Physi- 
 cians in 1899, together with other Papers 
 on Sanitation. With 13 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Rossetti. - A SHADOW OF DANTE : 
 being an Essay towards studying Himself, 
 his World and his Pilgrimage. By MARIA 
 FRANCESCA ROSSETTI. Crown 8vo., 35. 6d. 
 
 Shadwell. DRINK : Temperance 
 and Legislation. By ARTHUR SHADWELL, 
 M.A., M.D. Crown 8vo., 55. net. 
 
 Soulsby (Lucy H. M.). 
 
 STRAY THOUGHTS ON READING. 
 Fcp. 8vo., 25. 6d. net. 
 
 STRAY THOUGHTS FOR GIRLS. i6mo., 
 is. 6d net. 
 
 STRA Y THOUGHTS FOR Mo THERS AND 
 TEACHERS. Fcp. 8vo., 25. 6d. net. 
 10,000/7/02. 
 
 Southey. THE CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 ROBERTSOUTIfEY WITH CAROLINE BOWLES. 
 
 Edited by EDWARD DOWDEN. 8vo., 145. 
 
 Stevens. ON THE STOWAGE OF SHIPS 
 
 AND THEIR CARGOES. With Information re- 
 garding Freights, Charter- Parties, etc. By 
 ROBERT WHITE STEVENS. 8vo., 21$. 
 
 Sutherland. TWENTIETH CENTURY 
 
 INVENTIONS : a Forecast. By GEORGE 
 SUTHERLAND, M.A. Crown 8vo., 45. 6d. net. 
 
 Turner and Sutherland. THE DE- 
 VELOPMENT OF AUSTRALIAN LITERATURE. 
 By HENRY GYLES TURNER and ALEXANDER 
 SUTHERLAND. With Portraits and Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo., 55. 
 
 Warwick. PROGRESS IN WOMEN'S 
 EDUCA TIONIN THE BRITISH EMPIRE : being 
 the Report of Conferences and a Congress 
 held in connection with the Educational 
 Section, Victorian Era Exhibition. Edited 
 by the COUNTESS OF WARWICK. Cr. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Weathers. A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO 
 GARDEN PLANTS. By JOHN WEATHERS, 
 F.R.H.S. With 159 Diagrams. 8Vo., 2is. 
 net. 
 
 Webb. THE MYSTERY OF WILLIAM 
 SHAKESPEARE: a Summary of Evidence. 
 By his Honour Judge T. WEBB, sometime 
 Regius Professor of Laws and Public 
 Orator in the University of Dublin. 8vo., 
 IDS. 6d. net. 
 
 Whittall. FREDERICK THE GREA T 
 ON KINGCRAFT, from the Original Manu- 
 script ; with Reminiscences and Turkish 
 Stories. By Sir J. WILLIAM WHITTALL, 
 President of the British Chamber of Com- 
 merce of Turkey. 8vo., 75. 6d. net.
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from yfhteh ty gvas borrowed.