THE AFTERMATH
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS 
 
 " The student could desire nothing better than this wonder- 
 fully compact little guide, which seems to us to say the last 
 word upon the matter of modern journalism. It is written, 
 moreover, in a weighty redundant style, which is in itself 
 a most valuable object-lesson to the beginner and a model 
 of all that contemporary letters should be." The Journalist. 
 
 (The organ of the Trade.) 
 
 "... very repetitive and tiresome stuff . . ." Mr. 
 AMADECS (a notorious liar, writing in The World of the 
 Pen). 
 
 "... Admirable . . . most admirable . . . one of the 
 most charming works which have appeared in the English 
 language . . . quite admirable ... so admirable that we 
 remember nothing like it since Powell's criticism on Charles 
 Lamb, or rather Lamb's Immortal reply to that criticism . . . 
 quite admirable." The Chesterfield Mercury. 
 
 "... This is a book which those who take it up will 
 not willingly lay down, and those who lay it down will not 
 willingly take up. . . ." The Rev. CHARLES BBOYLC, writing 
 in Culture. 
 
 "... How is it that England, even in her decline, can 
 turn out such stuff as this? What other nation could have 
 produced it in the moment of her agony? The Common 
 Tongue still holds by its very roughness. . . ." The Notion. 
 (The principal organ of well-bred men 
 in New York, U.S.A.)
 
 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 OR, GLEANINGS FROM A BUSY 
 
 LIFE, CALLED UPON THE OUTER COVER 
 FOR PURPOSES OF SALE 
 
 CALIBAN'S GUIDE TO LETTERS 
 
 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 BY 
 
 H. BELLOC 
 
 LONDON: DUCKWORTH AND CO. 
 
 3, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN 
 I92O
 
 PR 
 
 CALIBAN'S GUIDE TO LETTERS. First published, 
 1903. 
 
 Reissued. 
 
 New Edition, type reset, 1920. 
 
 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS. First published, 1900. 
 New Edition, type reset, 1920. 
 
 All Rights Reurvtd. 
 
 I HINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY 
 11.1 ING AMD IONS, LTD., CUILDPORD, BMCLAND.
 
 TO 
 
 CATHERINE, MRS. CALIBAN, 
 
 BUT FOR WHOSE FRUITFUL SUGGESTION, EVER READY 
 
 SYMPATHY, POWERS OF OBSERVATION, KINDLY CRITICISM, 
 
 UNFLINCHING COURAGE, CATHOLIC LEARNING, AND NONE 
 
 THE LESS CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE, 
 
 THIS BOOK MIGHT AS WELL NOT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN; 
 IT IS DEDICATED 
 
 BY 
 
 HER OBEDIENT AND GRATEFUL SERVANT AND 
 FRIEND IN AFFLICTION, 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 " O, Man; with what tremors as of earth-begettings hast 
 thou not -wrought, O, Man! Yet is it utterly indeed of 
 thee f Did there not toil in it also that WORLD-MAN, or 
 haply was there not Some Other? ... O, Man I knowest 
 thou that word Some Other?" CARLYLE'S "Frederick the 
 Great."
 
 Most of these sketches are reprinted from "The 
 Speaker," and appear in this form by the kind per- 
 mission of its Editor. 
 
 ERRATA AND ADDENDA 
 
 P. 19, line 14 (from the top), for " enteric " read " esoteric." 
 
 P. 73, second footnote, for " Sophia, Lady Gowl," read 
 " Lady Sophia Gowl." 
 
 P. 277 (line 5 from bottom), for " the charming prospect of 
 such a bribe " read " Bride." 
 
 P. 456, delete all references to Black-mail, passim. 
 
 P. 510 (line 6 from top), for " Chou-fleur" read 
 " Chauffeur." 
 
 DIRECTION TO PRINTER. Please print hard, strong, clear, 
 straight, neat, clean, and well. Try and avoid those little 
 black smudges !
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PREFACE x 
 
 INTRODUCTION - II 
 
 I. REVIEWING - - 23 
 
 II. ON POLITICAL APPEALS - 37 
 
 III. THE SHORT STORY - - 57 
 
 IV. THE SHORT LYRIC - - 69 
 V. THE INTERVIEW 84 
 
 VI. THE PERSONAL PAR - - IOO 
 
 VII. THE TOPOGRAPHICAL ARTICLE Io6 
 
 VIII. ON EDITING - - 114 
 
 IX. ON REVELATIONS - -122 
 
 X. SPECIAL PROSE - 138 
 
 APPENDIX : 
 
 PRICES CURRENT - - 145 
 
 NOTE ON TITLES - - 148 
 
 NOTE ON STYLE - -149 
 
 THE ODE - - 152 
 
 ON REMAINDERS AND PULPING - -156 
 
 Vil
 
 DST FURTHER AND YET MORE WEIGHTY 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS 
 
 "... We found it very tedious. . . ."The Evening 
 German. 
 
 (The devil "we" did! " We" was once a private in a 
 line regiment, drummed out for receiving stolen goods.) 
 
 "... We cannot see what Dr. Caliban's Guide is driving 
 at." The Daily American. 
 
 (It is driving at you.) 
 
 "... What? Again? . . ."The Edinburgh Review. 
 
 "... On y retrouve a chaque page 1'orgueil et la s6cheresse 
 Anglaise. . . ." M. HYPPOLITE DUKAND, writing in Le 
 Journal of Paris. 
 
 " . . . O Angleterre ! He merveilleuse ! C'est done 
 toujours de toi que sortiront la Justice et la V6rit6. . . ." 
 M. CHAKMANT REINACH, writing in the Horreur of Geneva. 
 
 "... Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'entrate." Signor Y. 
 ILABRIMO (of Palermo), writing in the Tribuna of Rome. 
 
 "iroXXi rA Jeu-a Kdvoev AvOptlnrov Setrbrepov rA. " M. NEGRI- 
 DEPOPOULOS DE WORMS, writing in The "ri oturot>"ol Athens. 
 
 1 ' WPD "Tke Banner of Israel. 
 - !" The Times of London. 
 
 viii
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THIS work needs no apology. 
 
 Its value to the English-speaking world is twofold. 
 It preserves for all time, in the form of a printed 
 book, what might have been scattered in the sheets of 
 ephemeral publications. It is so designed that these 
 isolated monuments of prose and verse can be studied, 
 absorbed, and, if necessary, copied by the young 
 aspirant to literary honours. 
 
 Nothing is Good save the Useful, and it would have 
 been sheer vanity to have published so small a selection, 
 whatever its merit, unless it could be made to do Some- 
 thing, to achieve a Result in this strenuous modern 
 world. It will not be the fault of the book, but of the 
 reader, if no creative impulse follows its perusal, and 
 the student will have but himself to blame if, with such 
 standards before him, and so lucid and thorough an 
 analysis of modern Literature and of its well-springs, 
 he does not attain the goal to which the author would 
 lead him. 
 
 The book will be found conveniently divided into 
 sections representing the principal divisions of modern 
 literary activity; each section will contain an intro- 
 ductory essay, which will form a practical guide to the 
 subject with which it deals, and each will be adorned
 
 x PREFACE 
 
 with one or more examples of the finished article, which, 
 if the instructions be carefully followed, should soon 
 be turned out without difficulty by any earnest and 
 industrious scholar of average ability. 
 
 If the Work can raise the income of but one poor 
 journalist, or produce earnings, no matter how insig- 
 nificant, for but one of that great army which is now 
 compelled to pay for the insertion of its compositions 
 in the newspapers and magazines, the labour and 
 organizing ability devoted to it will not have been in 
 vain.
 
 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 OR 
 
 GLEANINGS FROM A BUSY LIFE 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 A GRATEFUL SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR'S FRIEND (iN 
 PART THE PRODUCER OF THIS BOOK), JAMES CALIBAN 
 
 FEW men have pursued more honourably, more usefully, 
 or more successfully the career of letters than Thomas 
 Caliban, D.D., of Winchelthorpe-on-Sea, near Ports- 
 mouth. Inheriting, as his name would imply, the grand 
 old Huguenot strain, his father was a Merchant Taylor 
 of the City of London, and principal manager of the 
 Anglo-Chilian Bank; his mother the fifth daughter of 
 K. Muller, Esq., of Brighton, a furniture dealer and 
 reformer of note in the early forties. 
 
 The connection established between my own family 
 and that of Dr. Caliban I purposely pass over as not 
 germane to the ensuing pages, remarking only that the 
 friendship, guidance, and intimacy of such a man will 
 ever count among my chief est treasures. Of him it 
 may truly be written: " He maketh them to shine like 
 Sharon; the waters are his in Ram-Shaid, and Gilgath 
 praiseth him." 
 
 XI
 
 is THE AFTERMATH 
 
 I could fill a volume of far greater contents than has 
 this with the mere record of his every-day acts during 
 the course of his long and active career. I must content 
 myself, in this sketch, with a bare summary of his 
 habitual deportment. He would rise in the morning, 
 and after a simple but orderly toilet would proceed to 
 family prayers, terminating the same with a hymn, of 
 which he would himself read each verse in turn, to be 
 subsequently chanted by the assembled household. To 
 this succeeded breakfast, which commonly consisted of 
 ham, eggs, coffee, tea, toast, jam, and what-not in a 
 word, the appurtenances of a decent table. 
 
 Breakfast over, he would light a pipe (for he did not 
 regard indulgence in the weed as immoral, still less as 
 un-Christian : the subtle word TTIIKUX, which he 
 translated "sweet reasonableness," was painted above 
 his study door it might have served for the motto of 
 his whole life), he would light a pipe, I say, and walk 
 round his garden, or, if it rained, visit the plants in his 
 conservatory. 
 
 Before ten he would be in his study, seated at a 
 large mahogany bureau, formerly the property of Sir 
 Charles Henby, of North-chapel, and noon would still 
 find him there, writing in his regular and legible hand 
 the notes and manuscripts which have made him famous, 
 or poring over an encyclopaedia, the more conscientiously 
 to review some book with which he had been entrusted. 
 
 After the hours so spent, it was his habit to take a 
 turn in the fresh air, sometimes speaking to the gar- 
 dener, and making the round of the beds; at others 
 passing by the stables to visit his pony Bluebell, or 
 to pat upon the head his faithful dog Ponto, now
 
 INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 advanced in years and suffering somewhat from the 
 mange. 
 
 To this light exercise succeeded luncheon, for him the 
 most cheerful meal of the day. It was then that his 
 liveliest conversation was heard, his closest friends 
 entertained : the government, the misfortunes of foreign 
 nations, the success of our fiscal policy, our maritime 
 supremacy, the definition of the word " gentleman," 
 occasionally even a little bout of theology a thousand 
 subjects fell into the province of his genial criticism and 
 extensive information; to each his sound judgment and 
 ready apprehension added some new light ; nor were the 
 ladies of the family incompetent to follow the gifted 
 table talk of their father, husband, brother, master,* 
 and host, t 
 
 Until the last few years the hour after lunch was 
 occupied with a stroll upon the terrace, but latterly he 
 would consume it before the fire in sleep, from which 
 the servants had orders to wake him by three o'clock. 
 At this hour he would take his hat and stick and 
 proceed into the town, where his sunny smile and 
 friendly salute were familiar to high and low. A visit 
 to the L.N.C. School, a few purchases, perhaps even 
 a call upon the vicar (for Dr. Caliban was without 
 prejudice the broadest of men), would be the occupa- 
 tion of the afternoon, from which he returned to tea in 
 the charming drawing-room of 48, Henderson Avenue. 
 
 It was now high time to revisit his study. He was 
 
 * The governess invariably took her meals with the family. 
 
 t Miss Bowley, though practically permanently resident 
 in the family, was still but a guest a position which she 
 never forgot, though Dr. Caliban forbad a direct allusion to 
 the fact.
 
 14 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 at work by six, and would write steadily till seven. 
 Dinner, the pleasant conversation that succeeds it in 
 our English homes, perhaps an innocent round game, 
 occupied the evening till a gong for prayers announced 
 the termination of the day. Dr. Caliban made it a 
 point to remain the last up, to bolt the front door, to 
 pour out his own whiskey, and to light his own candle 
 before retiring. It was consonant with his exact and 
 thoughtful nature, by the way, to have this candle of a 
 patent sort, pierced down the middle to minimise the 
 danger from falling grease ; it was moreover surrounded 
 by a detachable cylinder of glass.* 
 
 Such was the round of method which, day by day 
 and week by week, built up the years of Dr. Caliban's 
 life; but life is made up of little things, and, to quote 
 a fine phrase of his own : " It is the hourly habits of 
 a man that build up his character." He also said (in 
 his address to the I. C. B. Y.) : "Show me a man 
 hour by hour in his own home, from the rising of the 
 sun to his going down, and I will tell you what manner 
 of man he is." I have always remembered the epigram, 
 and have acted upon it in the endeavour to portray the 
 inner nature of its gifted author. 
 
 I should, however, be giving but an insufficient picture 
 of Dr. Caliban were I to leave the reader with no 
 further impression of his life work, or indeed of the 
 causes which have produced this book. 
 
 His father had left him a decent competence. He 
 lay, therefore, under no necessity to toil for his living. 
 Nevertheless, that sense of duty, " through which the 
 
 * Such as are sold and patented by my friend Mr. Gape- 
 thorn, of j6a. Fetter Lane.
 
 INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 eternal heavens are fresh and strong" (Wordsworth), 
 moved him to something more than ' ' the consumption 
 of the fruits of the earth" (Horace). He preached 
 voluntarily and without remuneration for some years to 
 the churches in Cheltenham, and having married Miss 
 Bignor, of Winchelthorpe-on-Sea, purchased a villa in 
 that rising southern watering-place, and received a call 
 to the congregation, which he accepted. He laboured 
 there till his recent calamity. 
 
 I hardly know where to begin the recital of his 
 numerous activities in the period of thirty-five years 
 succeeding his marriage. With the pen he was inde- 
 fatigable. A man more TTOIKIA.OS or, as he put it, 
 many-sided perhaps never existed. There was little 
 he would not touch, little upon which he was not con- 
 sulted, and much in which, though anonymous, he was 
 yet a leader. 
 
 He wrote regularly, in his earlier years, for The 
 Seventh Monarchy, The Banner, The Christian, The 
 Free Trader, Household Words, Good Words, The 
 Quiver, Chatterbox, The Home Circle, and The Sunday 
 Monitor. During the last twenty years his work has 
 continually appeared in the Daily Telegraph, the Times, 
 the Siecle, and the Tribuna. In the last two his work 
 was translated. 
 
 His political effect was immense, and that though he 
 never acceded to the repeated request that he would 
 stand upon one side or the other as a candidate for 
 Parliament. He remained, on the contrary, to the end 
 of his career, no more than president of a local associa- 
 tion. It was as a speaker, writer, and preacher, that 
 his ideas spread outwards ; thousands certainly now use
 
 16 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 political phrases which they may imagine their own, but 
 which undoubtedly sprang from his creative brain. He 
 was perhaps not the first, but one of the first, to apply 
 the term "Anglo-Saxon" to the English-speaking race 
 with which indeed he was personally connected 
 through his relatives in New Mexico. The word 
 " Empire " occurs in a sermon of his as early as 1869. 
 He was contemporary with Mr. Lucas, if not before 
 him, in the phrase, "Command of the sea " : and I 
 find, in a letter to Mrs. Gorch, written long ago in 1873, 
 the judgment that Protection was " no longer," and the 
 nationalisation of land " not yet," within " the sphere 
 of practical politics." 
 
 If his influence upon domestic politics was in part due 
 to his agreement with the bulk of his fellow-citizens, his 
 attitude in foreign affairs at least was all his own. 
 Events have proved it wonderfully sound. A strenuous 
 opponent of American slavery as a very young man 
 in 1860 he might be called, even at that age, the most 
 prominent Abolitionist in Worcestershire, and worked 
 indefatigably for the cause in so far as it concerned this 
 country. A just and charitable man, he proved, after 
 the victory of the North, one of the firmest supporters 
 in the press of what he first termed ' ' an Anglo-American 
 entente." Yet he was not for pressing matters. He 
 would leave the "gigantic daughter of the West" to 
 choose her hour and time, confident in the wisdom of 
 his daughter's judgment, and he lived to see, before his 
 calamity fell upon him, Mr. Hanna, Mr. Roosevelt, 
 Mr. Elihu Root, and Mr. Smoot occupying the positions 
 they still adorn. 
 
 He comprehended Europe. It was he who prophesied
 
 INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 of the Dual Monarchy (I believe in the Contemporary 
 Review), that " the death of Francis Joseph would be 
 the signal for a great upheaval " ; he that applied to 
 Italy the words "clericalism is the enemy"; and he 
 that publicly advised the withdrawal of our national 
 investments from the debt of Spain ' ' a nation in 
 active decay." He cared not a jot when his critics 
 pointed out that Spanish fours had risen since his 
 advice no less than 20 per cent., while our own consols 
 had fallen by an equal amount. " The kingdom I 
 serve," he finely answered, " knows nothing of the price 
 of stock." And indeed the greater part of his fortune 
 was in suburban rents, saving a small sum unfortunately 
 adventured in Shanghai Telephones. 
 
 Russia he hated as the oppressor of Finland and 
 Poland, for oppression he loathed and combated 
 wherever it appeared ; nor had Mr. Arthur Balfour a 
 stronger supporter than he when that statesman, armed 
 only in the simple manliness of an English Christian 
 and Freeman, combated and destroyed the terrorism 
 that stalked through Ireland. 
 
 Of Scandinavia he knew singularly little, but that 
 little was in its favour ; and as for the German Empire, 
 his stanzas to Prince Bismarck, and his sermon on the 
 Emperor's recent visit, are too well known to need any 
 comment here. To Holland he was, until recently, 
 attracted. Greece he despised. 
 
 Nowhere was this fine temper of unflinching courage 
 and sterling common sense more apparent than in the 
 great crisis of the Dreyfus case. No man stood up 
 more boldly, or with less thought of consequence, for 
 Truth and Justice in this country. He was not indeed 
 
 2
 
 i8 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 the chairman of the great meeting in St. James' Hall, 
 but his peroration was the soul of that vast assemblage. 
 " England will yet weather the storm. ..." It was a 
 true prophecy, and in a sense a confession of Faith. 
 
 There ran through his character a vein of something 
 steady and profound, which inspired all who came near 
 him with a sense of quiet persistent strength. This, 
 with an equable, unfailing pressure, restrained or con- 
 trolled whatever company surrounded him. It was like 
 the regular current of a full but silent tide, or like the 
 consistent power of a good helmsman. It may be called 
 his personal force. To most men and women of our 
 circle, that force was a sustenance and a blessing; to 
 ill-regulated or worldly men with whom he might come 
 in contact, it acted as a salutary irritant, though rarely 
 to so intense a degree as to give rise to scenes. I must 
 unfortunately except the case of the Rural Dean of 
 Bosham, whose notorious excess was the more lamentable 
 from the fact that the Council of the S.P.C.A. is strictly 
 non-sectarian, and whose excuse that the ink-pot was 
 not thrown but brushed aside is, to speak plainly, a 
 tergiversation. 
 
 The recent unhappy war in South Africa afforded an 
 excellent opportunity for the exercise of the qualities I 
 mean. He was still active and alert ; still guiding men 
 and maidens during its worse days. His tact was 
 admirable. He suffered from the acute divisions of his 
 congregation, but he suffered in powerful silence; and 
 throughout those dark-days his sober necquid nimis* was 
 like a keel and ballast for us all. 
 
 * Petronius.
 
 INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 A young radical of sorts was declaiming at his table 
 one evening against the Concentration Camp. Dr. 
 Caliban listened patiently, and at the end of the 
 harangue said gently, " Shall we join the ladies ?" The 
 rebuke was not lost.* 
 
 On another occasion, when some foreigner was reported 
 in the papers as having doubted Mr. Brodrick's figures 
 relative to the numbers of the enemy remaining in the 
 field, Dr. Caliban said with quiet dignity, "It is the 
 first time I have heard the word of an English gentleman 
 doubted." 
 
 It must not be imagined from these lines that he 
 defended the gross excesses of the London mob- 
 especially in the matter of strong waters or that he 
 wholly approved of our policy. " Peace in our time, 
 Oh, Lord!" was his constant cry, and against mili- 
 tarism he thundered fearlessly. I have heard him apply 
 to it a word that never passed his lips in any other 
 connection the word DAMNABLE. 
 
 On the details of the war, the policy of annexation, 
 the advisability of frequent surrenders, the high salaries 
 of irregulars, and the employment of national scouts, he 
 was silent. In fine, one might have applied to him the 
 strong and simple words of Lord Jacobs, in his Guildhall 
 speech, t One main fact stood out he hated warfare. 
 He was a man of peace. 
 
 The tall, broad figure, inclining slightly to obesity, 
 the clear blue northern eyes, ever roaming from point to 
 point, as though seeking for grace, the familiar soft 
 
 * The Ladies were Mrs. Caliban, Miss Rachel and Miss 
 Aletheia Caliban, Miss Bowley, Miss Goucher, and Lady 
 Robinson. 
 
 t " It is enough for me that I am an Englishman."
 
 o THE AFTERMATH 
 
 wideawake, the long full white beard, the veined com- 
 plexion and dark-gloved hands, are now, alas, removed 
 from the sphere they so long adorned. 
 
 Dr. Caliban's affliction was first noticed by his family 
 at dinner on the first of last September a date which 
 fell by a strange and unhappy coincidence on a Sunday. 
 For some days past Miss Goucher had remarked his 
 increasing volubility; but on this fatal evening, in spite 
 of all the efforts of his wife and daughters, he continued 
 to speak, without interruption, from half -past seven to 
 a quarter-past nine; and again, after a short interval, 
 till midnight, when he fell into an uneasy sleep, itself 
 full of mutterings. His talk had seemed now a sermon, 
 now the reminiscence of some leading article, now a 
 monologue, but the whole quite incoherent, though, 
 delivered with passionate energy; nor was it the least 
 distressing feature of his malady that he would tolerate 
 no reply, nay, even the gentlest assent drove him into 
 paroxysms of fury. 
 
 Next day he began again in the manner of a debate at 
 the local Liberal Club, soon lapsing again into a sermon, 
 and anon admitting snatches of strange songs into the 
 flow of his words. Towards eleven he was apparently, 
 arguing with imaginary foreigners, and shortly after- 
 wards the terrible scene was ended by the arrival of a 
 medical man of his own persuasion. 
 
 It is doubtful whether Dr. Caliban will ever be able 
 to leave Dr. Charlbury's establishment, but all that can 
 be done for him in his present condition is lovingly and 
 ungrudgingly afforded. There has even been provided 
 for him at considerable expense, and after an exhaustive 
 search, a companion whose persistent hallucination it is
 
 INTRODUCTION 21 
 
 that he is acting as private secretary to some leader of 
 the Opposition, and the poor wild soul is at rest. 
 
 Such was the man who continually urged upon me the 
 necessity of compiling some such work as that which 
 now lies before the reader. He had himself intended to 
 produce a similar volume, and had he done so I should 
 never have dared to enter the same field ; but I feel that 
 in his present incapacity I am, as it were, fulfilling a 
 duty when I trace in these few pages the plan which he 
 so constantly counselled, and with such a man counsels 
 were commands. If I may be permitted to dwell upon 
 the feature more especially his own in this Guide, I will 
 point to the section " On Vivid Historical Literature in 
 its Application to Modern Problems," and furthermore, 
 to the section "On the Criticism and Distinction of 
 Works Attributed to Classical Authors." In the latter 
 case the examples chosen were taken from his own large 
 collection; for it was a hobby of his to purchase as 
 bargains manuscripts and anonymous pamphlets which 
 seemed to him to betray the hand of some master. 
 Though I have been compelled to differ from my friend, 
 and cannot conscientiously attribute the specimens I 
 have chosen to William Shakespeare or to Dean Swift, 
 yet I am sure the reader will agree with me that the 
 error into which Dr. Caliban fell was that of no ordinary 
 mind. 
 
 Finally, let me offer to his family, and to his 
 numerous circle, such apologies as may be necessary for 
 the differences in style, and, alas, I fear, sometimes in 
 mode of thought, between the examples which I have 
 chosen as models for the student and those which perhaps 
 would have more powerfully attracted the sympathies of
 
 22 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 my preceptor himself. I am well aware that such a 
 difference is occasionally to be discoyered. I can only 
 plead in excuse that men are made in very different 
 ways, and that the disciple cannot, even if he would, 
 forbid himself a certain measure of self-development. 
 Dr. Caliban's own sound and broad ethics would surely 
 have demanded it of no one, and I trust that this solemn 
 reference to his charity and genial toleration will put an 
 end to the covert attacks which some of those who should 
 have been the strongest links between us have seen fit to 
 make in the provincial and religious press.
 
 1 
 REVIEWING 
 
 THE ancient and honourable art of Reviewing is, with- 
 out question, the most important branch of that great 
 calling which we term the " Career of Letters." 
 
 As it is the most important, so also it is the first which 
 a man of letters should learn. It is at once his shield 
 and his weapon. A thorough knowledge of Reviewing, 
 both theoretical and applied, will give a man more 
 popularity or power than he could have attained by the 
 expenditure of a corresponding energy in any one of 
 the liberal professions, with the possible exception of 
 Municipal politics. 
 
 It forms, moreover, the foundation upon which all 
 other literary work may be said to repose. Involving, 
 as it does, the reading of a vast number of volumes, and 
 the thorough mastery of a hundred wholly different 
 subjects ; training one to rapid, conclusive judgment, and 
 to the exercise of a kind of immediate power of survey, 
 it vies with cricket in forming the character of an 
 Englishman. It is interesting to know that Charles 
 Hawbuck was for some years principally occupied in 
 Reviewing ; and to this day some of our most important 
 men will write, nay, and sign, reviews, as the press of 
 the country testifies upon every side. 
 
 It is true that the sums paid for this species of 
 literary activity are not large, and it is this fact which 
 
 23
 
 24 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 has dissuaded some of our most famous novelists and 
 poets of recent years from undertaking Reviewing of any 
 kind. But the beginner will not be deterred by such a 
 consideration, and he may look forward, by way of 
 compensation, to the ultimate possession of a large and 
 extremely varied library, the accumulation of the books 
 which have been given him to review. I have myself 
 been presented with books of which individual volumes 
 were sometimes worth as much as forty-two shillings 
 to buy. 
 
 Having said so much of the advantages of this initial 
 and fundamental kind of writing, I will proceed to a 
 more exact account of its dangers and difficulties, and 
 of the processes inherent to its manufacture. 
 
 It is clear, in the first place, that the Reviewer must 
 regard herself as the servant of the public, and of her 
 employer; and service, as I need hardly remind her (or 
 him), has nothing in it dishonourable. We were all 
 made to work, and often the highest in the land are the 
 hardest workers of all. This character of service, of 
 which Mr. Ruskin has written such noble things, will 
 often lay the Reviewer under the necessity of a sharp 
 change of opinion, and nowhere is the art a better 
 training in morals and application than in the habit it 
 inculcates of rapid and exact obedience, coupled with 
 the power of seeing every aspect of a thing, and of 
 insisting upon that particular aspect which will give 
 most satisfaction to the commonwealth. 
 
 It may not be uninstructive if I quote here the 
 adventures of one of the truest of the many stout- 
 hearted men I have known, one indeed who recently 
 died in harness reviewing Mr. Garcke's article on
 
 REVIEWING 25 
 
 Electrical Traction in the supplementary volumes of 
 the Encyclopaedia Britannica. This gentleman was once 
 sent a book to review ; the subject, as he had received 
 no special training in it, might have deterred one less 
 bound by the sense of duty. This book was called The 
 Snail : Its Habitat, Food, Customs, Virtues, Vices, and 
 Future. It was, as its title would imply, a monograph 
 upon snails, and there were many fine coloured prints, 
 showing various snails occupied in feeding on the leaves 
 proper to each species. It also contained a large number 
 of process blocks, showing sections, plans, elevations, 
 and portraits of snails, as well as detailed descriptions 
 (with diagrams) of the ears, tongues, eyes, hair, and 
 nerves of snails. It was a comprehensive and remark- 
 able work. 
 
 My friend (whose name I suppress for family reasons) 
 would not naturally have cared to review this book. 
 He saw that it involved the assumption of a knowledge 
 which he did not possess, and that some parts of the 
 book might require very close reading. It numbered in 
 all 1,532 pages, but this was including the index and 
 the preface. 
 
 He put his inclinations to one side, and took the book 
 with him to the office of the newspaper from which he 
 had received it, where he was relieved to hear the Editor 
 inform him that it was not necessary to review the work 
 in any great detail. " Moreover," he added, " I don't 
 think you need praise it too much." 
 
 On hearing this, the Reviewer, having noted down 
 the price of the book and the name of the publisher, 
 wrote the following words which, by the way, the 
 student will do well to cut out and pin upon his wall,
 
 a6 THK AFTERMATH 
 
 as an excellent example of what a "short notice" 
 should be : 
 
 "Tkt Snail: Its Habitat, etc. Adam Charles. Pschuffer. 
 ais. 6d. 
 
 " This is a book that will hardly add to the reputation of 
 its author. There is evidence of detailed work, and even of 
 conscientious research in several places, but the author has 
 ignored or misunderstood the whole teaching of 
 and the special discoveries of and what is 
 
 even more remarkable in a man of Mr. Charles' standing, he 
 advances views which were already exploded in the days 
 of ." 
 
 He then took an Encyclopaedia and filled up the 
 blanks with the names of three great men who appeared, 
 according to that work, to be the leaders in this branch 
 of natural history. His duty thus thoroughly accom- 
 plished and his mind at rest, he posted his review, and 
 applied himself to lighter occupations. 
 
 Next day, however, the Editor telephoned to him, to 
 the effect that the notice upon which he had spent so 
 much labour could not be used. 
 
 " We have just received," said the Editor, "a page 
 advertisement from Pschuffer. I would like a really 
 good article, and you might use the book as a kind of 
 peg on which to hang it. You might begin on the subject 
 of snails, and make it something more like your ' Oh I 
 my lost friend,' which has had such a success." 
 
 On occasions such as these the beginner must 
 remember to keep full possession of himself. 
 
 Nothing in this mortal life is permanent, and the 
 changes that are native to the journalistic career are 
 perhaps the most startling and frequent of all those 
 which threaten humanity.
 
 REVIEWING 27 
 
 The Reviewer of whom I speak was as wise as he 
 was honourable. He saw at once what was needed. He 
 wrote another and much longer article, beginning 
 
 " The Snail: Its Habitat, etc. Adam Charles. Pschuffer. 
 2is. 6d. 
 
 " There are tender days just before the Spring dares the 
 adventure of the Channel, when our Kentish woods are 
 prescient, as it were, of the South. It is calm . . ." 
 
 and so forth, leading gradually up to snails, and bring- 
 ing in the book here and there about every twentieth 
 line. 
 
 When this long article was done, he took it back to 
 the office, and there found the Editor in yet a third 
 mood. He was talking into the telephone, and begged 
 his visitor to wait until he had done. My friend, there- 
 fore, took up a copy of the Spectator, and attempted to 
 distract his attention with the masterful irony and hard 
 crystalline prose of that paper. 
 
 Soon the Editor turned to him and said that 
 Pschuffers had just let him know by telephone that 
 they would not advertise after all. 
 
 It was now necessary to delete all that there might be 
 upon snails in his article, to head the remainder "My 
 Kentish Home, ' ' and to send it immediately to ' ' Life 
 in the Open," This done, he sat down and wrote upon 
 a scrap of paper in the office the following revised 
 notice, which the Editor glanced at and approyed : 
 
 " The Snail: Its Habitat, etc. Adam Charles. Pschuffer. 
 
 2 is. 6d. 
 
 " This work will, perhaps, appeal to specialists. This 
 journal does not profess any capacity of dealing with it, but
 
 2 8 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 a glance at its pages is sufficient to show that it would be 
 very ill-suited to ordinary readers. The illustrations are not 
 without merit." 
 
 Next morning he was somewhat perturbed to be called 
 up again upon the telephone by the Editor, who spoke 
 to him as follows : 
 
 " I am very sorry, but I have just learnt a most 
 important fact. Adam Charles is standing in our 
 interests at Biggleton. Lord Bailey will be on the plat- 
 form. You must write a long and favourable review 
 of the book before twelve to-day, and do try and say a 
 little about the author." 
 
 He somewhat wearily took up a sheet of paper and 
 wrote what follows : a passage which I must again 
 recommend to the student as a very admirable specimen 
 of work upon these lines. 
 
 " The Snail: Its Habitat, etc. Adam Charles. Pschuffer. 
 
 213. 6d. 
 
 " This book comes at a most opportune moment. It is 
 not generally known that Professor Charles was the first to 
 point out the very great importance of the training of the 
 mind in the education of children. It was in May, 1875, 
 that he made this point in the presence of Mr. Gladstone, who 
 was so impressed by the mingled enlightenment and novelty 
 of the view, that he wrote a long and interesting postcard 
 upon the author to a friend of the present writer. Professor 
 Charles m^y be styled nay, he styles himself a ' self-made 
 man.' Born in Huddersfield of parents who were weavers 
 in that charming northern city, he was early fascinated by 
 the study of natural science, and was admitted to the 
 Alexandrovna University. ..." 
 
 (And so on, and so on, out of " Who's Who.") 
 
 " But this would not suffice for his growing genius."
 
 REVIEWING 29 
 
 (And so on, and so on, out of t\\z Series of Contemporary 
 Agnostics.} 
 
 " ... It is sometimes remarkable to men of less wide 
 experience how such spirits find the mere time to achieve 
 their prodigious results. Take, for example, this book on 
 the Snail. . . ." 
 
 And he continued in a fine spirit of praise, such as 
 should be given to books of this weight and importance, 
 and to men such as he who had written it. He sent it 
 by boy-messenger to the office. 
 
 The messenger had but just left the house when the 
 telephone rang again, and once more it was the Editor, 
 who asked whether the review had been sent off. Know- 
 ing how dilatory are the run of journalists, my friend 
 felt some natural pride in replying that he had indeed 
 just despatched the article. The Editor, as luck would 
 have it, was somewhat annoyed by this, and the reason 
 soon appeared when he proceeded to say that the author 
 was another Charles after all, and not the Mr. Charles 
 who was standing for Parliament. He asked whether 
 the original review could still be retained, in which the 
 book, it will be remembered, had been treated with 
 some severity. 
 
 My friend permitted himself to give a deep sigh, but 
 was courteous enough to answer as follows : 
 
 " I am afraid it has been destroyed, but I shall be 
 very happy to write another, and I will make it really 
 scathing. You shall have it by twelve." 
 
 It was under these circumstances that the review 
 (which many of you must have read) took this final 
 form, which I recommend even more heartily than any
 
 30 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 of the others to those who may peruse these pages for 
 their profit, as well as for their instruction. 
 
 " The Snail: Its Habitat, etc. Adam Charles. Pschuffer. 
 
 ais. 6d. 
 
 " We desire to have as little to do with this book as possible, 
 and we should recommend some similar attitude to our 
 readers. It professes to be scientific, but the harm books 
 of this kind do is incalculable. It is certainly unfit for 
 ordinary reading, and for our part we will confess that we 
 have not read more than the first few words. They were 
 quite sufficient to confirm the judgment which we have put 
 before our readers, and they would have formed sufficient 
 material for a lengthier treatment had we thought it our 
 duty as Englishmen to dwell further upon the subject." 
 
 Let me now turn from the light parenthesis of 
 illuminating anecdote to the sterner part of my 
 task. 
 
 We will begin at the beginning, taking the simplest 
 form of review, and tracing the process of production 
 through its various stages. 
 
 It is necessary first to procure a few forms, such as 
 are sold by Messrs. Chatsworthy in Chancery Lane, and 
 Messrs. Goldman, of the Haymarket, in which all the 
 skeleton of a review is provided, with blanks left for 
 those portions which must, with the best will in the 
 world, vary according to the book and the author under 
 consideration. There are a large number of these forms, 
 and I would recommend the student who is as yet quite 
 a novice in the trade to select some forty of the most 
 conventional , such as these on page 7 of the catalogue : 
 
 " Mr. has hardly seized the pure beauty of " 
 
 " We cannot agree with Mr. in his estimate of " 
 
 Again, how admirable is the following :"
 
 REVIEWING 
 
 There is some- 
 what of the 
 
 sst 
 -'s 
 -'s 
 
 At the same establishments can be procured very 
 complete lists of startling words, which lend individu- 
 ality and force to the judgment of the Reviewer. 
 Indeed I believe that Mr. Goldman was himself the 
 original patentee of these useful little aids, and among 
 many before me at this moment I would recommend the 
 following to the student : 
 
 Absolute 
 
 Immediate 
 
 Creative 
 
 Bestial 
 
 Intense 
 
 Authoritative in 
 
 Ampitheatrical ; Mrs. 
 
 Lapsed 
 
 Miggerlish 
 
 Japhetic 
 
 Accidental 
 
 Alkaline 
 
 Zenotic J 
 
 Messrs. Mailing, of Duke Street, Soho, sell a par- 
 ticular kind of cartridge paper and some special pins, 
 gum, and a knife, called "The Reviewer's Outfit." 
 I do not know that these are necessary, but they cost 
 only a few pence, and are certainly of advantage in the 
 final process. To wit : Seizing firmly the book to be 
 reviewed, write down the title, price, publisher, and (in 
 books other than anonymous) the author's name, at the 
 top of the sheet of paper you have chosen. The book 
 should then be taken in both hands and opened sharply, 
 with a gesture not easily described, but acquired with
 
 32 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 very little practice. The test of success is that the book 
 should give a loud crack and lie open of itself upon the 
 table before one. This initial process is technically 
 called ' ' breaking the back " of a book, but we need not 
 trouble ourselves yet with technical terms. One of the 
 pages so disclosed should next be torn out and the word 
 " extract " written in the corner, though not before such 
 sentences have been deleted as will leave the remainder 
 a coherent paragraph. In the case of historical and 
 scientific work, the preface must be torn out bodily, the 
 name of the Reviewer substituted for the word "I," 
 and the whole used as a description of the work in 
 question. What remains is very simple. The forms, 
 extracts, etc., are trimmed, pinned, and gummed in 
 order upon the cartridge paper (in some offices brown 
 paper), and the whole is sent to press. 
 
 I need hardly say that only the most elementary form 
 of review can be constructed upon this model, but the 
 simplest notice contains all the factors which enter into 
 the most complicated and most serious of literary 
 criticism and pronouncements. 
 
 In this, as in every other practical trade, an ounce of 
 example is worth a ton of precept, and I have much 
 pleasure in laying before the student one of the best 
 examples that has ever appeared in the weekly press of 
 how a careful, subtle, just, and yet tender review, may 
 be written. The complexity of the situation which called 
 it forth, and the lightness of touch required for its 
 successful completion, may be gauged by the fact that 
 Mr. Mayhem was the nephew of my employer, had 
 quarrelled with him at the moment when the notice was 
 written, but will almost certainly be on good terms with
 
 REVIEWING 33 
 
 him again; he was also, as I privately knew, engaged 
 to the daughter of a publisher who had shares in the 
 works where the review was printed. 
 
 A YOUNG POET IN DANGER 
 MR. MAYHEM'S " PEREANT QUI NOSTRA." 
 
 WE fear that in " Pereant qui Nostra," Mr. Mayhem has 
 hardly added to his reputation, and we might even doubt 
 whether he was well advised to publish it at all. " Tuft3 in 
 an Orchard" gave such promise, that the author of the ex- 
 quisite lyrics it contained might easily have rested on the 
 immediate fame that first effort procured him. 
 
 " Lord, look to England ; England looks to you," 
 and 
 
 " Great unaffected vampires and the moon," 
 
 are lines the Anglo-Saxon race will not readily let die. 
 
 In " Pereant qui Nostra," Mr. Mayhem preserves and even 
 increases his old facility of expression, but there is a terrible 
 falling-off in verbal aptitude. 
 
 What are we to think of " The greatest general the world 
 has seen" applied as a poetic description to Lord Kitchener? 
 Mr. Mayhem will excuse us if we say that the whole expres- 
 sion is commonplace. 
 
 Commonplace thought is bad enough, though it is difficult 
 to avoid when one tackles a great national subject, and thinks 
 what all good patriots and men of sense think also. " Pour 
 Sire poete," as M. Yves Guyot proudly said in his receptional 
 address to the French Academy, " Pour fitre poete on n'est 
 pas forcement alie'neV' But commonplace language should 
 always be avoidable, and it is a fault which we cannot but 
 admit we have found throughout Mr. Mayhem's new volume. 
 Thus in " Laura " he compares a young goat to a " tender 
 flower," and in " Billings " he calls some little children " the 
 younglings of the flock." Again, he says of the waves at 
 Dover in a gale that they are " horses all in rank, with 
 manes of snow," and tells us in " Eton College " that the 
 Thames " runs like a silver thread amid the gieen." 
 
 3
 
 34 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 All these similes verge upon the commonplace, even when 
 they do not touch it. However, there is very genuine feel- 
 ing in the description of his old school, and we have no 
 doubt that the bulk of Etonians will see more in the poem 
 than outsiders can possibly do. 
 
 It cannot be denied that Mi. Mayhem has a powerful source 
 of inspiration in his strong patriotism, and the sonnets 
 addressed to Mr. Kruger, Mr. O'Brien, Dr. Clark, and 
 General Mercier are full of vigorous denunciation. It is the 
 more regrettable that he has missed true poetic diction and lost 
 his subtletly in a misapprehension of planes and values. 
 
 " Vile, vile old man, and yet more vile again," 
 
 is a line that we are sure Mr. Mayhem would reconsider in 
 his better moments: "more vile" than what? Than him- 
 self? The expression is far too vague. 
 
 " Proud Prelate," addressed to General Mercier, must be 
 a misprint, and it is a pity it should have slipped in. What 
 Mr. Mayhem probably meant was " Proud Caesar " or 
 "soldier," or some other dissyllabic title. The word prelate 
 can properly only be applied to a bishop, a mitred abbot, or 
 a vicar apostolic. 
 
 " Babbler of Hell, importunate mad fiend, dead canker, 
 crested worm," are vigorous and original, but do not save 
 the sonnet. And as to the last two lines, 
 
 " Nor seek to pierce the viewless shield of years, 
 For that you certainly could never do," 
 
 Mr. Mayhem must excuse us if we say that the order of the 
 lines make a sheer bathos. 
 
 Perhaps the faults and the excellences of Mr. Mayhem, 
 his fruitful limitations, and his energetic inspirations, can 
 be best appreciated if we quote the following sonnet ; the 
 exercise will also afford us the opportunity (which we are 
 sure Mr. Mayhem will not resent in such an old friend) of 
 pointing out the dangers into which his new tendencies may 
 lead him. 
 
 " England, if ever it should be thy fate 
 
 By fortune's turn or accident of chance 
 To fall from craven fears of being great, 
 And in the tourney with dishevelled lance
 
 REVIEWING 35 
 
 To topple headlong, and incur the Hate 
 Of Spain, America, Germany, and France, 
 
 What will you find upon that dreadful date 
 To check the backward move of your advance? 
 
 A little Glory ; purchased not with gold 
 
 Nor yet with Frankincense (the island blood 
 
 Is incommensurate, neither bought nor sold), 
 But on the poops where Drake and Nelson stood 
 
 An iron hand, a stern unflinching eye 
 
 To meet the large assaults of Destiny." 
 
 Now, here is a composition that not everyone could have 
 written. It is inspired by a vigorous patriotism, it strikes 
 the right note (Mr. Mayhem is a Past Seneschal of the Navy 
 League), and it breathes throughout the motive spirit of 
 our greatest lyrics. 
 
 It is the execution that is defective, and it is to execution 
 that Mr. Mayhem must direct himself if he would rise to the 
 level of his own great conceptions. 
 
 We will take the sonnet line by line, and make our mean- 
 ing clear, and we do this earnestly for the sake of a young 
 poet to whom the Anglo-Saxon race owes much, and whom it 
 would be deplorable to see failing, as Kipling appears to be 
 failing, and as Ganzer has failed. 
 
 Line i is not very striking, but might pass as an intro- 
 duction ; line 2 is sheer pleonasm after using the word 
 "fate," you cannot use "fortune," "accident," "chance," 
 as though they were amplifications of your first thought. 
 Moreover, the phrase " by fortune's turn " has a familiar 
 sound. It is rather an echo than a creation. 
 
 In line 3, "craven fears of being great" is taken from 
 Tennyson. The action is legitimate enough. Thus, in 
 Wordsworth's " Excursion " are three lines taken bodily 
 from "Paradise Lost," in Kipling's "Stow it" are whole 
 phrases taken from the Police Gazette, and in Mr. Austin's 
 verses you may frequently find portions of a Standard leader. 
 Nevertheless, it is a licence which a young poet should be 
 chary of. All these others were men of an established reputa- 
 tion before they permitted themselves this liberty. 
 
 In line 4, "dishevelled" is a false epithet for "lance"; 
 a lance has no hair ; the adjective can only properly be used 
 of a woman, a wild beast, or domestic animal.
 
 36 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 In line 5, " incur the hate " is a thoroughly unpoetic phrase 
 we say so unreservedly. In line 6, we have one of those 
 daring experiments in metre common to our younger poets; 
 therefore we hesitate to pronounce upon it, but (if we may 
 presume to advise) we should give Mr. Mayhem the sugges- 
 tion made by the Times to Tennyson that he should stick 
 to an exact metre until he felt sure of his style ; and in line 8, 
 "the backward move of your advance" seems a little strained. 
 
 It is, however, in the sextet that the chief slips of the 
 sonnet appear, and they are so characteristic of the author's 
 later errors, that we cannot but note them ; thus, " purchased 
 not with gold or Frankincense " is a grievous error. It is 
 indeed a good habit to quote Biblical phrases (a habit which 
 has been the making of half our poets), but not to confuse 
 them : frankincense was never used as coin even by the 
 Hittites. " Incommensurate " is simply meaningless. How 
 can blood be "incommensurate"? We fear Mr. Mayhem 
 has fallen into the error of polysyllabic effect, a modern pit- 
 fall. " Island blood" will, however, stir many a responsive 
 thrill. 
 
 The close of the sonnet is a terrible falling off. When you 
 
 say a thing is purchased, " not with this but " the reader 
 
 naturally expects an alternative, instead of which Mr. May- 
 hem goes right off to another subject ! Also (though the 
 allusion to Nelson and Drake is magnificent) the mention of 
 an iron hand and an eye by themselves on a poop seems to 
 us a very violent metaphor. 
 
 The last line is bad. 
 
 We do not write in this vein to gain any reputation for 
 preciosity, and still less to offend. Mr. Mayhem has many 
 qualities. He has a rare handling of penultimates, much 
 potentiality, large framing ; he has a very definite chiaros- 
 curo, and the tones are full and objective; so are the values. 
 We would not restrain a production in which (as a partner 
 in a publishing firm) the present writer is directly interested. 
 But we wish to recall Mr. Mayhem to his earlier and simpler 
 style to the " Cassowary," and the superb interrupted 
 seventh of " The Altar Ghoul." 
 
 England cannot afford to lose that talent
 
 II 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 
 
 IT was one of Dr. Caliban's chief characteristics and 
 perhaps the main source of his power over others that 
 he could crystallise, or to use the modern term 
 "wankle," the thought of his generation into sharp 
 unexpected phrases. Among others, this was constantly 
 upon his lips : 
 
 " We live in stirring times." 
 
 If I may presume to add a word to the pronounce- 
 ments of my revered master, I would rewrite the 
 sentence thus : 
 
 " We live in stirring AND CHANGEFUL times." 
 
 It is not only an element of adventure, it is also an 
 element of rapid and unexpected development which 
 marks our period, and which incidentally lends so con- 
 siderable an influence to genius. 
 
 In the older and more settled order, political forces 
 were so well known that no description or analysis of 
 them was necessary : to this day members of our more 
 ancient political families do not read the newspapers. 
 Soon, perhaps, the national life will have entered a new 
 groove, and once more literary gentlemen will but in- 
 directly control the life of the nation. 
 
 For the moment, however, their effect is direct and 
 37
 
 18 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 immediate. A vivid prophecy, a strong attack upon 
 this statesman or that foreign Government may deter- 
 mine public opinion for a space of over ten days, and 
 matter of this sort is remunerated at the rate of from 
 155. to 1 8s. 6d. per thousand words. When we contrast 
 this with the 95. paid for the translation of foreign 
 classics, the 55. of occasional verse, or even the 105. of 
 police-court reporting, it is sufficiently evident that this 
 kind of composition is the Premier Prose of our time. 
 
 There must, indeed, be in London and Manchester, 
 alive at the present moment, at least fifty men who can 
 command the prices I have mentioned, and who, with 
 reasonable industry, can earn as much as ^500 a year 
 by their decisions upon political matters. But I should 
 be giving the student very indifferent counsel were I to 
 recommend him for the delivery of his judgment to the 
 beaten track of Leading Articles or to that of specially 
 written and signed communications : the sums paid for 
 such writing never rise beyond a modest level ; the 
 position itself is precarious. In London alone, and 
 within a radius of 87 yards from the " Green Dragon," 
 no less than 53 Authors lost their livelihood upon the 
 more respectable papers from an inability to prophesy 
 with any kind of accuracy upon the late war, and this 
 at a time when the majority of regular politicians were 
 able to retain their seats in Parliament and many 
 ministers their rank in the Cabinet. 
 
 By far the most durable, the most exalted, and the 
 most effective kind of appeal, is that which is made in 
 a poetic form, especially if that form be vague and 
 symbolic in its character. Nothing is risked and every- 
 thing is gained by this method, upon which have been
 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 39 
 
 founded so many reputations and so many considerable 
 fortunes. The student cannot be too strongly urged to 
 abandon the regular and daily task of set columns 
 signed or unsigned for the occasional Flash of Verse 
 if he desire to provoke great wars and to increase his 
 income. It may not always succeed, but the proportion 
 of failures is very small, and at the worst it is but. 
 moment's energy wasted. 
 
 " We are sick," says one of the most famous among 
 those who have adopted this method, " We are sick " 
 he is speaking not only of himself but of others " We 
 are sick for a stave of the song that our fathers sang." 
 Turn, therefore, to the dead who are no longer alive, 
 and with whom no quarrel is to be feared. Make them 
 reappear and lend weight to your contention. Their 
 fame is achieved, and may very possibly support your 
 own. This kind of writing introduces all the elements 
 that most profoundly affect the public : it is mysterious, 
 it is vague, it is authoritative ; it is also eminently 
 literary, and I can recall no first-class political appeal 
 of the last fifteen years which has not been cast more or 
 less upon these lines. ' 
 
 The subjects you may choose from are numerous and 
 are daily increasing, but for the amateur the best, 
 without any question, is that of Imperialism. It is a 
 common ground upon which all meet, and upon which 
 every race resident in the wealthier part of London is 
 agreed. Bring forward the great ghosts of the past, let 
 them swell what is now an all but universal chorus. 
 Avoid the more complicated metres, hendecasyllables, 
 and the rest ; choose those which neither scan nor rhyme ; 
 or, if their subtlety baffles you, fall back upon blank
 
 40 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 verse, and you should, with the most moderate talent, 
 lay the foundation of a permanent success. 
 
 I will append, as is my custom, a model upon which 
 the student may shape his first efforts, though I would 
 not have him copy too faithfully, lest certain idiosyn- 
 crasies of manner should betray the plagiarism. 
 
 THE IMPERIALIST FEAST 
 
 [A Hall at the Grand Oriental. At a long table are 
 seated innumerable Shades. The walls are deco- 
 rated with flags of all nations, and a band of 
 musicians in sham uniform are playing very loudly 
 on a dais.] 
 
 Catullus rises and makes a short speech, pointing out 
 the advantages of Strong Men, and making several 
 delicate allusions to Caesar, who is too much of a 
 gentleman to applaud. He then gives them the toast 
 of " Imperialism," to which there is a hearty response. 
 Lucan replies in a few well-chosen words, and they fall 
 to conversation. 
 
 PETRONIUS : I would be crowned with paper flowers 
 
 to-night 
 
 And scented with the rare opopanax, 
 Whose savour leads the Orient in, suggesting 
 The seas beyond Modore. 
 
 TALLEYRAND : Shove up, Petronius, 
 
 And let me sit as near as possible 
 To Mr. Bingoe's Grand Imperial Band 
 With Thirty-seven Brazen Instruments 
 And Kettle-Drums complete : I hear the players 
 Discourse the music called " What Ho ! She Bumps I"
 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 41 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD : What Ho ! She Bumps ! Like- 
 wise ! C'est $a ! There's 'Air ! 
 
 LORD GLENALTAMONT OF EPHESUS (severely) : Lord 
 Chesterfield ! Be worthy of your name. 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD (angrily) : Lord Squab, be worthy 
 of your son-in-law's. 
 
 HENRY V. : My Lords ! My Lords ! What do you 
 
 with your swords ? 
 
 I mean, what mean you by this strange demeanour 
 Which (had you swords and knew you how to use them) 
 Might ... I forget what I was going to say. . . . 
 
 Oh ! Yes Is this the time for peers to quarrel, 
 
 When all the air is thick with Agincourt 
 
 And every other night is Crispin's day ? 
 
 The very supers bellow up and down, 
 
 Armed of rude cardboard and wide blades of tin 
 
 For England and St. George ! 
 
 RICHARD YEA AND NAY : You talk too much. 
 
 Think more. Revise. Avoid the commonplace; 
 And when you lack a startling word, invent it. 
 
 [Their quarrel is stopped by THOMAS JEFFERSON rising 
 to propose the toast of " The Anglo-Saxon Race."] 
 
 JEFFERSON : If I were asked what was the noblest 
 
 message 
 
 Delivered to the twentieth century, 
 I should reply 
 
 (Etc., etc. While he maunders on 
 ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, and C^SAR begin talking 
 
 rather loud) 
 
 CLEOPATRA : Waiter ! I want a little creme de menthe. 
 (The waiter pays no attention.)
 
 4* THE AFTERMATH 
 
 ANTONY : Waiter ! A glass of Curasao and brandy. 
 
 (Waiter still looks at Jefferson.) 
 CAESAR : That is the worst of these contracted dinners. 
 They give you quite a feed for 35. 6d. 
 And have a splendid Band. I like the Band, 
 It stuns the soul. . . . But when you call the waiter 
 He only sneers and looks the other way. 
 CLEOPATRA (makes a mouc). 
 C^SAR (archly) : Was that the face that launched a 
 
 thousand ships 
 And sacked . . . 
 
 ANTONY (angrily) : Oh ! Egypt ! Egypt ! Egypt ! 
 THOMAS JEFFERSON (ending, interrupts the quarrel). 
 
 . . . blessings 
 
 Of order, cleanliness, and business methods. 
 The base of Empire is a living wage. 
 One King . . . (applause) . . . (applause) . . . 
 . . . (applause) shall always wave 
 . . . (applause) 
 . . . (loud applause) . . . (applause) 
 
 THE REIGN OF LAW ! 
 (Thunders of applause) 
 NAPOLEON (rising to reply) : I am myself a strong 
 
 Imperialist. 
 
 A brochure, very recently compiled 
 (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read), 
 Neglects the point, I think; the Anglo-Saxon . . . 
 
 (etc., etc.) 
 GEORGE III. (to Burke): Who's that? Eh, what? 
 
 Who's that ? Who ever's that ? 
 BURKE : Dread sire ! It is the Corsican Vampire.
 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 43 
 
 GEORGE III. : Napoleon? What? I thought that he 
 
 was leaner. 
 
 I thought that he was leaner. What ? What ? What ? 
 NAPOLEON (sitting down) . . . such dispositions ! 
 Order! Teted'Armeel 
 
 (Slight applause) 
 HEROD (rises suddenly without being asked, crosses 
 
 his arms, glares, and shouts very loudly}. 
 Ha ! Would you have Imperial hearing ? Hounds ! 
 I am that Herod which is he that am 
 The lonely Lebanonian (interruption) who despaired 
 In Deep Marsupial Dens . . . (cries of "Sit down/") 
 
 ... In dreadful hollows 
 To ("Sit down!") tear great trees with the teeth, 
 
 and hurricanes ("Sit ciownV} 
 That shook the hills of Moab ! 
 
 CHORUS OF DEAD MEN : Oh ! Sit down. 
 
 (He is swamped by the clamour, in the midst of which 
 Lucullus murmurs to himself) 
 
 LUCULLUS (musing) : The banquet's done. There 
 
 was a tribute drawn 
 Of anchovies and olives and of soup 
 In tins of conquered nations ; subject whiting : 
 Saddle of mutton from the antipodes 
 Close on the walls of ice ; Laponian pheasants ; 
 Eggs of Canadian rebels, humbled now 
 To such obeisance scrambled eggs and butter 
 From Brittany enslaved, and the white bread 
 Hardened for heroes in the test of time, 
 Was California's offering. But the cheese, 
 The cheese was ours. ... Oh ! but the glory faded
 
 44 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 Of feasting at repletion mocks our arms 
 And threatens even Empire. 
 
 (Great noise of Vulgarians, a mob of people, her aid \ t 
 trumpets, flags. Enter VITELLIUS.) 
 
 VITELLIUS : I have dined ! 
 
 But not with you. The master of the world 
 Has dined alone and at his own expense. 
 And oh ! I am almost too full for words 
 But oh ! My lieges, I have used you well ! 
 I have commanded fifteen hundred seats 
 And standing room for something like a thousand 
 To view my triumph over Nobody 
 Upon the limelit stage. 
 
 HEROD : Oh ! rare Vitellius, 
 
 Oh ! Prominent great Imperial ears ! Oh ! Mouth 
 To bellow largesse ! Oh ! And rolling Thunder, 
 And trains of smoke. And oh ! ... 
 
 VITELLIUS : Let in the vulgar 
 
 To see the master sight of their dull lives : 
 Great Caesar putting on his overcoat. 
 And then, my loved companions, we'll away 
 To see the real Herod in the Play. 
 
 (The Shades pass out in a crowd. In the street 
 THEOCRITUS is heard singing in a voice that gets 
 fainter and fainter with distance. . . .) 
 
 " Put me somewhere ea-heast of Su-hez, 
 Were the best is loi-hoike the worst 
 Were there hain' no " (and so forth). 
 
 FINIS.
 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 45 
 
 It is not enough to compose such appeals as may 
 quicken the nation to a perception of her peculiar 
 mission; it is necessary to paint for her guidance the 
 abominations and weakness of foreign countries. The 
 young writer may be trusted to know his duty instinc- 
 tively in this matter, but should his moral perception be 
 blunted, a sharper argument will soon remind him of 
 what he owes to the Common Conscience of Christians. 
 He that cannot write, and write with zeal, upon the 
 Balkans, or upon Finland, or upon the Clerical trouble, 
 or upon whatever lies before us to do for righteousness, 
 is not worthy of a place in English letters : the public 
 and his editor will very soon convince him of what he 
 has lost by an unmanly reticence. 
 
 His comrades, who are content to deal with such 
 matters as they arise, will not be paid at a higher rate : 
 but they will be paid more often. They will not infre- 
 quently be paid from several sources; they will have 
 many opportunities for judging those financial questions 
 which are invariably mixed up with the great battle 
 against the Ultramontane, the Cossack, and the Turk. 
 In Cairo, Frankfort, Pretoria, Mayfair, Shanghai, their 
 latter days confirm Dr. Caliban's profound conclusion : 
 "Whosoever works for Humanity works, whether he 
 know it or not, for himself as well."* 
 
 I earnestly beseech the reader of this textbook, 
 especially if he be young, to allow no false shame to 
 modify his zeal in judging the vileness of the Continent. 
 We know whatever can be known ; all criticism or 
 qualification is hypocrisy; all silence is cowardice. 
 
 * This Phase closes the XXXIVth of Dr. Caliban's 
 " Subjects for Sinners."
 
 46 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 There is work to be done. Let the writer take up his 
 pen and write. 
 
 I had some little hesitation what model to put before 
 the student. This book does not profess to be more than 
 an introduction to the elements of our science ; I there- 
 fore omitted what had first seemed to me of some value, 
 the letters written on a special commission to Pondi- 
 cherry during the plague and famine in that unhappy 
 and ill-governed remnant of a falling empire. The 
 articles on the tortures in the Philippines were never 
 printed, and might mislead. I have preferred to show 
 Priestcraft and Liberty in their eternal struggle as they 
 appeared to me in the character of Special Commissioner 
 for Out and About during the troubles of 1901. It is 
 clear, and I think unbiassed; it opens indeed in that, 
 light fashion which is a concession to contemporary 
 journalism : but the half frivolous exterior conceals a 
 permanent missionary- purpose. Its carefully collected 
 array of facts give, I suggest, a vivid picture of one 
 particular battlefield; that whereon there rage to-day 
 the opposed forces which will destroy or save the French 
 people. The beginner could not have a better intro- 
 duction to his struggle against the infamies of 
 Clericalism. Let him ask himself (as Mr. Gardy, 
 M.P., asked in a letter to Out and About) the indig- 
 nant question, " Could such things happen here in 
 England?"
 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 47 
 
 THE SHRINE OF ST. LOUP 
 
 My excellent good Dreyfusards, anti-Dreyfusards, 
 Baptists, Anabaptists, pre-Monstratentians, antiquaries, 
 sterling fellows, foreign correspondents, home-readers, 
 historians, Nestorians, philosophers, Deductionists, 
 Inductionists, Praetorians (I forgot those), Csesarists, 
 Lazarists, Catholics, Protestants, Agnostics, and 
 militant atheists, as also all you Churchmen, Noncon- 
 formists, Particularists, very strong secularists, and 
 even you, my well-beloved little brethren called The 
 Peculiar People, give ear attentively and listen to what 
 is to follow, and you shall learn more of a matter that 
 has woefully disturbed you than ever you would get 
 from the Daily Mail or from Mynheer van Damm, or 
 even from Dr. Biggies' Walks and Talks in France. 
 
 In an upper valley of the Dauphine there is a village 
 called Lagarde. From this village, at about half past 
 four o'clock of a pleasant June morning, there walked 
 out with his herd one Jean Rigors, a herdsman and 
 half-wit. He had not proceeded very far towards the 
 pastures above the village, and the sun was barely 
 showing above the peak profanely called The Three 
 Bishops, when he had the fortune to meet the Blessed 
 St. Loup, or Lupus, formerly a hermit in that valley, 
 who had died some fourteen hundred years ago, but 
 whose name, astonishing as it may seem to the author of 
 The Justification of Fame, is still remembered among 
 the populace. The Blessed Lupus admonished the 
 peasant, recalling the neglect into which public worship 
 had fallen, reluctantly promised a sign whereby it
 
 48 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 might be recreated among the faithful, and pointed out 
 a nasty stream of muddy water, one out of fifty that 
 trickled from the moss of the Alps. He then struck 
 M. Rigors a slight, or, as some accounts have it, a 
 heavy, blow with his staff, and disappeared in glory. 
 
 Jean Rigors, who could not read or write, being a 
 man over thirty, and having therefore forgotten the 
 excellent free lessons provided by the Republic in 
 primary schools, was not a little astonished at the 
 apparition. Having a care to tether a certain calf 
 whom he knew to be light-headed, he left the rest of 
 the herd to its own unerring instincts, and ran back to 
 the village to inform the parish priest of the very 
 remarkable occurrence of which he had been the witness 
 or victim. He found upon his return that the morning 
 Mass, from which he had been absent off and on for 
 some seven years, was already at the Gospel, and 
 attended to it with quite singular devotion, until in the 
 space of some seventeen minutes he was able to meet the 
 priest in the sacristy and inform him of what had 
 happened. 
 
 The priest, who had heard of such miraculous appear- 
 ances in other villages, but (being a humble man, un- 
 fitted for worldly success and idiotic in business matters) 
 had never dared to hope that one would be vouchsafed 
 to his own cure, proceeded at once to the source of the 
 muddy streamlet, and (unhistorical as the detail may 
 seem to the author of Our Old Europe, Whence and 
 Whither?) neglected to reward the hind, who, indeed, 
 did not expect pecuniary remuneration, for these two 
 excellent reasons : First, that he knew the priest to be 
 by far the poorest man in the parish ; secondly, that he
 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 49 
 
 thought a revelation from the other world incom- 
 mensurate with money payments even to the extent of 
 a five-franc piece. The next Sunday (that is, three days 
 afterwards) the priest, who had previously informed his 
 brethren throughout the Canton, preached a sermon upon 
 the decay of religion and the growing agnosticism of the 
 modern world a theme which, as they had heard it 
 publicly since the Christian religion had been established 
 by Constantine in those parts and privately for one 
 hundred and twenty-five years before, his congregation 
 received with some legitimate languor. When, however, 
 he came to what was the very gist of his remarks, the 
 benighted foreigners pricked up their ears (a physical 
 atavism impossible to our own more enlightened com- 
 munity), and Le Sieur Rigors, who could still remember 
 the greater part of the services of the Church, was filled 
 with a mixture of nervousness and pride, while the good 
 priest informed his hearers, in language that would have 
 been eloquent had he not been trained in the little 
 seminary, that the great St. Lupus himself had appeared 
 to a devout member of his parish and had pointed out to 
 him a miraculous spring, for the proper enshrinement of 
 which he requested nay, he demanded the contribu- 
 tions of the faithful. 
 
 At that one sitting the excellent hierarch received no 
 less a sum than 1,053 francs and 67 centimes; the odd 
 two-centimes (a coin that has disappeared from the 
 greater part of France) being contributed by a road- 
 mender, who was well paid by the State, but who was in 
 the custom of receiving charity from tourists ; the said 
 tourists being under the erroneous impression that he 
 was a beggar. He also, by the way, would entertain 
 
 4
 
 50 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 the more Anglo-Saxon of these with the folk-lore of the 
 district, in which his fertile imagination was never at 
 fault. 
 
 It will seem astonishing to the author of Village 
 Communities in Western Europe to hear of so large a 
 sum as ,40 being subscribed by the congregation of this 
 remote village, and it would seem still more astonishing 
 to him could he see the very large chapel erected over 
 the spring of St. Loup. I do not say that he would 
 understand the phenomenon, but I do say that he would 
 become a more perturbed and therefore a wiser man did 
 he know the following four facts : (i) That the freehold 
 value of the village and its communal land, amounting 
 to the sum of a poor ^20,000, was not in the possession 
 of a landlord, but in that of these wretched peasants. 
 (2) That the one rich man of the neighbourhood, a 
 retired glove-maker, being also a fanatic, presented his 
 subscriptions in such a manner that they were never 
 heard of. He had, moreover, an abhorrence for the 
 regulation of charity. (3) That the master mason in the 
 neighbouring town had in his youth been guilty of 
 several mortal sins, and was so weak as to imagine that 
 a special tender would in such a case make a kind of 
 reparation; and (4) that the labourers employed were 
 too ignorant to cheat and too illiterate to combine. 
 
 The new shrine waxed and prospered exceedingly, 
 and on the Thursday following its dedication an 
 epileptic, having made use of the water, was restored 
 to a normal, and even commonplace, state of mind. On 
 the Friday a girl, who said that she had been haunted 
 by devils (though until then no one had heard of the 
 matter), declared, upon drinking a cup from the spring
 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 51 
 
 of St. Loup, that she was now haunted by angels a 
 very much pleasanter condition of affairs. The Sunday 
 following, the village usurer, who called himself 
 Bertollin, but who was known to be a wicked foreigner 
 from beyond the Alps, of the true name of Bertolino, 
 ran into the inn like one demented, and threw down the 
 total of his ill-gotten gains for the benefit of the shrine. 
 They amounted, indeed, to but a hundred francs, but 
 then his clientele were close and skin-flint, as peasant 
 proprietors and free men generally are the world over; 
 and it was well known that the cobbler, who had himself 
 borrowed a small sum for a month, and quadrupled it in 
 setting up lodgings for artists, had been unable to 
 recover from the usurer the mending of his boots. 
 
 By this time the Bishop had got wind of the new 
 shrine, and wrote to the Cure of Lagarde a very strong 
 letter, in which, after reciting the terms of the Con- 
 cordat, Clause 714 of the Constitution and the decree 
 of May zpth, 1854, he pointed out that by all these and 
 other fundamental or organic laws of the Republic, he 
 was master in his own diocese. He rebuked the cure for 
 the superstitious practice which had crept into his cure, 
 ordered the chapel to be used for none but ordinary 
 purposes, and issued a pastoral letter upon the evils of 
 local superstitions. This pastoral letter was read with 
 unction and holy mirth in the neighbouring monastery of 
 Bernion (founded in defiance of the law by the widow 
 of a President of the Republic), but with sorrow and 
 without comment in the little church of Lagarde. 
 
 The Minister of the Interior and the Minister of 
 Public Worship, each in his separate way, proceeded to 
 stamp out this survival of the barbaric period of Europe.
 
 52 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 The first by telling the Prefect to tell the sub-Prefect to 
 tell the Mayor that any attempt to levy taxes in favour 
 of the shrine would be administratively punished : the 
 second by writing a sharp official note to the Bishop for 
 not having acted on the very day that St. Loup appeared 
 to the benighted herdsman. The sub-Prefect came from 
 the horrible town of La Rochegayere and lunched with 
 the Mayor, who was the donor of the new stained -glass 
 window in the church, and they talked about the advan- 
 tages of forcing the Government to construct a road 
 through the valley to accommodate the now numerous 
 pilgrims; a subject which the sub-Prefect, who was 
 about to be promoted, approached with official non- 
 chalance, zut the Mayor (who owned the principal inn) 
 with pertinacity and fervour. They then went out, the 
 Mayor in his tricolour scarf to lock up the gate in front 
 of the holy well, the sub-Prefect to escort his young 
 wife to the presbytery, where she left a gift of 500 
 francs : the sub- Prefect thought it improper for a lady 
 to walk alone. 
 
 Upon the closure of the shrine a local paper (joint 
 property of the Bishop and a railway contractor) 
 attacked the atheism of the Government. A local 
 duchess, who was ignorant of the very terminology of 
 religion, sent a donation of 5,000 francs to the cure"; 
 with this the excellent man built a fine approach 
 to the new chapel, "which," as he sorrowfully and 
 justly observed, " the faithful may approach, though 
 an atheistic Government forbids the use of the shrine." 
 That same week, by an astonishing accident, the 
 Ministry was overturned; the Minister of the Interior 
 was compelled to retire into private life, and lived
 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 53 
 
 dependent upon his uncle (a Canon of Rheims). The 
 Minister of Public Worship (who had become increas- 
 ingly unpopular through the growth of anti-Semitic 
 feeling) took up his father's money-lending business 
 at Antwerp. 
 
 Next week the lock and seals were discovered to have 
 been in some inexplicable way removed from the gate of 
 the well and (by Article 893 of the Administrative Code) 
 before they could be replaced an action was necessary 
 at the assize-town of Grenoble. This action (by the 
 Order of 1875 on Law Terms) could not take place for 
 six months ; and in that interval an astonishing number 
 of things happened at Lagarde. 
 
 An old Sapper General, who had devised the special 
 obturator for light quick-firing guns, and who was 
 attached to the most backward superstitions, came in 
 full uniform to the Chapel and gave the shrine 10,000 
 francs : a mysteriously large endowment, as this sum 
 was nearly half his income, and he had suffered im- 
 prisonment in youth for his Republican opinions. He 
 said it was for the good of his soul, but the editor of 
 the Horreur knew better, and denounced him. He was 
 promptly retired upon a pension about a third greater 
 than that to which he was legally entitled, and received 
 by special secret messenger from the Minister of War an 
 earnest request to furnish a memorandum on the fortifi- 
 cations of the Isere and to consider himself inspector, 
 upon mobilisation, of that important line of defence. 
 
 Two monks, who had walked all the way from Spain, 
 settled in a house near the well. A pilgrim, who had 
 also evidently come from a prodigious distance on foot, 
 but gave false information as to his movements, was
 
 54 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 arrested by the police and subsequently released. The 
 arrest was telegraphed to the Times and much com- 
 mented upon, but the suicide of a prominent London 
 solicitor and other important news prevented any mention 
 of his release. 
 
 A writer of great eminence, who had been a leading 
 sceptic all his life, stayed at Lagarde for a month and 
 became a raving devotee. His publishers (MM. Her- 
 mann Khan) punished him by refusing to receive his 
 book upon the subject ; but by some occult influence, 
 probably that of the Jesuits, he was paid several 
 hundreds for it by the firm of Zadoc et Cie ; ten years 
 afterwards he died of a congested liver, a catastrophe 
 which some ascribed to a Jewish plot, and others treated 
 as a proof that his intellect had long been failing. 
 
 A common peasant fellow, that had been paralysed 
 for ten years, bathed in the water and walked away in a 
 sprightly fashion afterwards. This was very likely due 
 to his ignorance, for a doctor who narrowly watched the 
 whole business has proved that he did not know the 
 simplest rudiments of arithmetic or history, and how 
 should such a fellow understand so difficult a disease as 
 paralysis of the Taric nerve especially if it were (as 
 the doctor thought quite evident) complicated by a 
 stricture of the Upper Dalmoid ? 
 
 Two deaf women were, as is very commonly the case 
 with enthusiasts of this kind, restored to their hearing; 
 for how long we do not know, as their subsequent 
 history was not traced for more than five years. 
 
 A dumb boy talked, but in a very broken fashion, 
 and as he had a brother a priest and another brother in 
 the army, trickery was suspected.
 
 ON POLITICAL APPEALS 55 
 
 An English merchant, who had some trouble with his 
 eyes, bathed in the water at the instance of a sister who 
 desired to convert him. He could soon see so well that 
 he was able to write to the Freethinker an account of his 
 healing, called "The Medicinal Springs of Lagarde," 
 but, as he has subsequently gone totally blind, the 
 momentary repute against ophthalmia which the water 
 might have obtained was nipped in the bud. 
 
 What was most extraordinary of all, a very respect- 
 able director of a railway came to the village quietly, 
 under an assumed name, and, after drinking the water, 
 made a public confession of the most incredible kind 
 and has since become a monk. His son, to whom he 
 made over his whole fortune, had previously instituted a 
 demand at law to be made guardian of his estates ; but, 
 on hearing of his father's determination to embrace 
 religion, he was too tolerant to pursue the matter 
 further. 
 
 To cut a long story short, as Homer said when he 
 abruptly closed the Odyssey, some 740 cases of mira- 
 culous cures occurred between the mysterious opening of 
 the gates and the date for the trial at Grenoble. In that 
 period a second and much larger series of buildings had 
 begun to arise ; the total property involved in the case 
 amounted to 750,000 francs, and (by clause 61 of the 
 Regulation on Civil Tribunals) the local court of assize 
 was no longer competent. Before, however, the case 
 could be removed to Paris, the assent of the Grenoble 
 bench had to be formally obtained, and this, by the 
 singularly Republican rule of " Non-avant " (instituted 
 by Louis XL), took just two years. By that time the 
 new buildings were finished, eight priests were attached
 
 56 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 to the Church, a monastery of seventy-two monks, five 
 hotels, a golf links, and a club were in existence. The 
 total taxes paid by Lagarde to the Treasury amounted 
 to half-a-million francs a year. 
 
 The Government had become willing (under the 
 "Compromise of '49," which concerns Departments 
 v. the State in the matter of internal communications) 
 to build a fine, great road up to Lagarde. There was 
 also a railway, a Custom House, and a project of sub- 
 prefecture. Moreover, in some underhand way or other, 
 several hundred people a month were cured of various 
 ailments, from the purely subjective (such as buzzing in 
 the ears) to those verging upon the truly objective (such 
 as fracture of the knee-pan or the loss of an eye). 
 
 The Government is that of a practical and common - 
 sense people. It will guide or protect, but it cannot 
 pretend to coerce. Lagarde therefore flourishes, the 
 Bishop is venerated, the monastery grumbles in silence, 
 and there is some talk of an Hungarian journalist, born 
 in Constantinople, whose father did time for cheating in 
 the Russian Army, writing one of his fascinating anti- 
 religious romances in nine hundred pages upon the 
 subject. You will learn far more from such a book than 
 you can possibly learn from the narrow limits of the 
 above.
 
 Ill 
 THE SHORT STORY 
 
 THE short story is the simplest of all forms of literary 
 composition. It is at the same time by far the most 
 lucrative. It has become (to use one of Dr. Caliban's 
 most striking phrases) " part of the atmosphere of our 
 lives." In a modified form, it permeates our private 
 correspondence, our late Baron Reuter's telegraphic 
 messages, the replies of our cabinet ministers, the 
 rulings of our judges ; and it has become inseparable 
 from affirmations upon oath before Magistrates, 
 Registrars, Coroners, Courts of Common Jurisdiction, 
 Official Receivers, and all others qualified under 17 
 Vic. 21, Caps. 2 and 14; sub-section III. 
 
 To return to the short story. Its very reason for 
 being (raison d'etre) is simplicity. It suits our strenuous, 
 active race; nor would I waste the student's time by 
 recalling the fact that, in the stagnant civilisation of 
 China, a novel or play deals with the whole of the 
 hero's life, in its minutest details, through seventy 
 years. The contrast conveys an awful lesson ! 
 
 Let us confine ourselves, however, to the purpose of 
 these lines, and consider the short story ; for it is the 
 business of every true man to do what lies straight before 
 him as honestly and directly as he can. 
 
 The Short Story, on account of its simplicity, coupled 
 with the high rates of pay attached to it, attracts at the 
 
 57
 
 5 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 outset the great mass of writers. Several are successful, 
 and in their eager rapture (I have but to mention John 
 and Mary Hitherspoon) produce such numerous examples 
 of this form of art, that the student may ask what more 
 I have to teach him? In presenting a model for his 
 guidance, and reproducing the great skeleton lines upon 
 which the Short Story is built up, I would remind my 
 reader that it is my function to instruct and his to learn ; 
 and I would warn him that even in so elementary a 
 branch of letters as is this, " pride will have a fall." 
 
 It is not necessary to dwell further upon this un- 
 pleasant aspect of my duty. 
 
 Let us first consider where the writer of the Short 
 Story stands before the Law. What is her Legal 
 Position as to (a) the length, (b) the plot of a short 
 story which she may have contracted to deliver on a 
 certain date to a particular publisher, editor, agent, or 
 creditor? The following two decisions apply: 
 
 Habworthy Mabworthy v. Crcrwley. Mrs. Mabworthy 
 v. Crawley. brought an action against Crawley and Co. 
 to recover payment due for a short story 
 ordered of her by defendant. Defendant 
 pleaded lack of specific performance, as story 
 dealt with gradual change of spiritual outlook, 
 during forty years, of maiden lady inhabiting 
 Ealing. It was held by Mr. Justice Pake 
 that the subject so treated was not of 
 "ordinary length." Judgment for the 
 defendant. Mrs. Mabworthy, prompted by 
 her sex, fortune, and solicitor to appeal, 
 the matter was brought before the Court
 
 THE SHORT STORY 59 
 
 of Appeal, which decided that the word 
 "ordinary" was equivalent to the word 
 " reasonable." Judgment for the defendant, 
 with costs. Mrs. Mabworthy, at the insti- 
 gation of the Devil, sold a reversion and 
 carried the matter to the House of Lords, 
 where it was laid down that " a Short Story 
 should be of such length as would be found 
 tolerable by any man of ordinary firmness and 
 courage." Judgment for the defendant. 
 
 The next case is the case of 
 
 Gibson v. Gibson v. Acle. In this case, Mr. Phillip 
 Acle. Gibson, the well-known publisher, brought an 
 action for the recovery of a sum of $ IDS., 
 advanced to Miss Acle, of " The Wolfcote," 
 Croydon, in consideration of her contracting 
 to supply a short story, with regard to the 
 manuscript of which he maintained, upon 
 receiving it, that (i) it was not a story, and 
 (2) it was not technically " short," as it 
 filled but eighteen lines in the very large type 
 known as grand pica. Three very important 
 points were decided in this case; for the 
 Judge (Mr. Justice Veale, brother of Lord 
 Burpham) maintained, with sturdy common 
 sense, that if a publisher bought a manuscript, 
 no matter what, so long as it did not offend 
 common morals or the public security of the 
 realm, he was bound to "print, comfort, 
 cherish, defend, enforce, push, maintain, 
 advertise, circulate, and make public the
 
 60 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 same " ; and he was supported in the Court 
 of Crown Cases Reserved in his decision 
 that : 
 
 First: The word "short " was plainly the 
 more applicable the less lengthy were the 
 matter delivered : and 
 
 Secondly: The word "story " would hold 
 as a definition for any concoction of words 
 whatsoever, of which it could be proved that 
 it was built up of separate sentences, such 
 sentences each to consist of at least one pre- 
 dicate and one verb, real or imaginary. 
 
 Both these decisions are quite recent, and may be 
 regarded as the present state of the law on the 
 matter. 
 
 Once the legal position of the author is grasped, it is 
 necessary to acquire the five simple rules which govern 
 the Short Story. 
 
 ist. It should, as a practical matter apart from the 
 law, contain some incident. 
 
 2nd. That incident should take place on the sea, or 
 in brackish, or at least tidal, waters. 
 
 3rd. The hero should be English-speaking, white or 
 black. 
 
 4th. His adventures should be horrible ; but no kind 
 of moral should be drawn from them, unless it be desired 
 to exalt the patriotism of the reader. 
 
 5th. Every short story should be divided by a 
 ' ' Caesura ' ' : that is, it should break off sharp in the 
 middle, and you have then the choice of three distinct 
 courses :
 
 THE SHORT STORY 61 
 
 (a) To atop altogether as is often done by people 
 who die, and whose remains are published. 
 
 (b) To go on with a totally different subject. This 
 method is not to be commended to the beginner. It is 
 common to rich or popular writers ; and even they have 
 commonly the decency to put in asterisks. 
 
 (c) To go on with your story where it left off, as I 
 have done in the model which follows. 
 
 That model was constructed especially with the view 
 to guide the beginner. Its hero is a fellow subject, 
 white indeed, an Englishman. The scene is laid in 
 water, not perhaps salt, but at least brackish. The 
 adventure preys upon the mind. The moral is doubt- 
 ful : the Caesura marked and obvious. Moreover, it 
 begins in the middle, which (as I omitted to state above) 
 is the very hall-mark of the Vivid Manner. 
 
 THE ACCIDENT TO MR. THORPE 
 
 When Mr. Thorpe, drysalter, of St. Mary Axe, E.G., 
 fell into the water, it was the opinion of those who 
 knew him best that he would be drowned. I say " those 
 who knew him best" because, in the crowd that 
 immediately gathered upon the embankment, there were 
 present not a few of his friends. They had been 
 walking home together on this fine evening along the 
 river side, and now that Mr. Thorpe was in such peril, 
 not one could be got to do more than lean upon the 
 parapet shouting for the police, though they should have 
 known ho\v useless was that body of men in any other 
 than its native element. Alas ! how frail a thing is
 
 6a THE AFTERMATH 
 
 human friendship, and how terribly does misfortune 
 bring it to the test. 
 
 How had Mr. Thorpe fallen into the water? I am 
 not surprised at your asking that question. It argues a 
 very observant, critical, and accurate mind ; a love of 
 truth; a habit of weighing evidence; and altogether a 
 robust, sturdy, practical, Anglo-Saxon kind of an atti- 
 tude, that does you credit. You will not take things on 
 hearsay, and there is no monkish credulity about you. 
 I congratulate you. You say (and rightly) that Honest 
 Merchants do not fall into the Thames for nothing, the 
 thing is unusual ; you want (very properly) to know how 
 it happened, or, as you call it, "occurred." I cannot 
 tell you. I was not there at the time. All I know is, 
 that he did fall in, and that, as matter of plain fact 
 (and you are there to judge fact, remember, not law), 
 Mr. Thorpe was at 6.15 in the evening of June yth, 
 1892, floundering about in the water a little above 
 Cleopatra's Needle ; and there are a cloud of witnesses. 
 
 It now behoves me to detail with great accuracy the 
 circumstances surrounding his immersion, the degree of 
 danger that he ran, and how he was saved. In the first 
 place, Mr. Thorpe fell in at the last of the ebb, so that 
 there was no tide to sweep him out to sea ; in the second 
 place, the depth of water at that spot was exactly five 
 feet two inches, so that he could had he but known it 
 have walked ashore (for he was, of course, over six feet 
 in height) ; in the third place, the river has here a good 
 gravelly bed, as you ought to know, for the clay doesn't 
 begin till you get beyond Battersea Bridge and, by the 
 way, this gravel accounts for the otherwise inexplicable 
 phenomenon of the little boys that will dive for pennies
 
 THE SHORT STORY 63 
 
 at low tide opposite the shot tower ; in the fourth place, 
 the water, as one might have imagined at that season of 
 the year, was warm and comfortable ; in the fifth place, 
 there lay but a few yards from him a Police Pier, crowded 
 with lines, lifebuoys, boats, cork- jackets, and what not, 
 and decorated, as to its Main Room, with a large placard 
 entitled " First help to the drowning," the same being 
 illustrated with cuts, showing a man of commonplace 
 features fallen into the hands of his religious opponents 
 and undergoing the torture. Therefore it is easy to see 
 that he could have either saved himself or have been 
 saved by others without difficulty. Indeed, for Mr. 
 Thorpe to have drowned, it would have been necessary 
 for him to have exercised the most determined self- 
 control, and to have thought out the most elaborate of 
 suicidal plans ; and, as a fact, he was within forty-three 
 seconds of his falling in pulled out again by a boat- 
 hook, which was passed through the back of his frock 
 coat : and that is a lesson in favour of keeping one's coat 
 buttoned up like a gentleman, and not letting it flap 
 open like an artist or an anarchist, or a fellow that 
 writes for the papers. But I digress. The point is, 
 that Mr. Thorpe was immediately saved, and there (you 
 might think) was an end of the matter. Indeed, the 
 thing seems to come to a conclusion of its own, and to 
 be a kind of epic, for it has a beginning where Mr. 
 Thorpe falls into the water (and, note you, the beginning* 
 of all epics is, or should be, out of the text) ; it has a 
 middle or "action," where Mr. Thorpe is floundering 
 about like a sea monster, and an end, where he is pulled 
 out again. They are of larger scope than this little 
 story, and written in a pompous manner, yet the Iliad,
 
 64 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 the /Enetd, Abbo's Siege of Paris, the Chanson de 
 Roland, Orlando Furioso, Thalaba the Destroyer, and 
 Mr. Davidson's shorter lyrics have no better claim to be 
 epics in their essentials than has this relation of The 
 Accident to Mr. Thorpe. So, then (you say), that is the 
 end ; thank you for the story ; we are much obliged. If 
 ever you have another simple little story to tell, pray 
 publish it at large, and do not keep it for the exquisite 
 delight of your private circle. We thank you again a. 
 thousand times. Good morrow. 
 
 Softly, softly. I beg that there may be no undue 
 haste or sharp conclusions; there is something more to 
 come. Sit you down and listen patiently. Was there 
 ever an epic that was not continued? Did not the 
 Rhapsodists of Cos piece together the Odyssey after 
 their successful Iliad? Did not Dionysius Paracelsus 
 write a tail to the JEneid? Was not the Chanson de 
 Roland followed by the Four Sons of Aymonf Could 
 Southey have been content with Thalaba had he not 
 proceeded to write the adventures in America of William 
 ap Williams, or some other Welshman whose name I 
 forget? Eh? Well, in precisely the same manner, I 
 propose to add a second and completing narrative to this 
 of Mr. Thorpe's accident ; so let us have no grumbling. 
 
 And to understand what kind of thing followed his 
 fall into the water, I must explain to you that nothing 
 had ever happened to Mr. Thorpe before ; he had never 
 sailed a boat, never ridden a horse, never had a fight, 
 never written a book, never climbed a mountain indeed, 
 I might have set out in a long litany, covering several 
 pages, the startling, adventurous, and dare-devil things 
 that Mr. Thorpe had never done; and were I to space
 
 THE SHORT STORY 65 
 
 out my work so, I should be well in the fashion, for 
 does not the immortal Kipling (who is paid by the line) 
 repeat his own lines half-a-dozen times over, and use in 
 profusion the lines of well-known ballads ? He does ; 
 and so have I therefore the right to space and stretch my 
 work in whatever fashion will spin out the space most 
 fully ; and if I do not do so, it is because I am as eager 
 as you can possibly be to get to the end of this chronicle. 
 Well then, nothing had ever happened to Mr. Thorpe 
 before, and what was the result ? Why that this aqueous 
 adventure of his began to grow and possess him as you 
 and I are possessed by our more important feats, by our 
 different distant journeys, our bold speculations, our 
 meeting with grand acquaintances, our outwitting of the 
 law ; and I am sorry to say that Mr. Thorpe in a very 
 short time began to lie prodigiously. The symptoms of 
 this perversion first appeared a few days after the 
 accident, at a lunch which he attended (with the other 
 directors of the Marine Glue Company) in the City. 
 The company was in process of negotiating a very 
 difficult piece of business, that required all the attention 
 of the directors, and, as is usual under such circum- 
 stances, they fell to telling amusing tales to one another. 
 One of them had just finished his story of how a nephew 
 of his narrowly escaped lynching at Leadville, Colorado, 
 when Mr. Thorpe, who had been making ponderous 
 jokes all the morning, was suddenly observed to grow 
 thoughtful, and (after first ascertaining with some care 
 that there was no one present who had seen him fall in) 
 he astonished the company by saying : " I cannot hear 
 of such escapes from death without awe. It was but the 
 other day that I was saved as by a miracle from drown- 
 
 5
 
 66 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 ing." Then he added, after a little pause, " My whole 
 life seemed to pass befoie me in a moment." 
 
 Now this was not true. Mr. Thorpe's mind at the 
 moment he referred to had been wholly engrossed by 
 the peculiar sensation that follows the drinking of a 
 gallon of water suddenly when one is not in the least 
 thirsty ; but he had already told the tale so often, that 
 he was fully persuaded of it, and, by this time, believed 
 that his excellent and uneventful life had been presented 
 to him as it is to the drowning people in books. 
 
 His fall was rapid. He grew in some vague way 
 to associate his adventure with the perils of the sea. 
 Whenever he crossed the Channel he would draw some 
 fellow-passenger into a conversation, and, having cun- 
 ningly led it on to the subject of shipwreck, would 
 describe the awful agony of battling with the waves, 
 and the outburst of relief on being saved. At first he 
 did not actually say that he had himself struggled in 
 the vast and shoreless seas of the world, but bit by bit 
 the last shreds of accuracy left him, and he took to 
 painting with minute detail in his conversations the 
 various scenes of his danger and salvation. Sometimes 
 it was in the " steep water off the Banks " ; sometimes 
 in "the glassy steaming seas and on the feverish coast 
 of the Bight"; sometimes it was "a point or two 
 norr'ard of the Owers light" but it was always terrible, 
 graphic, and a lie. 
 
 This habit, as it became his unique preoccupation, 
 cost him not a little. He lost his old friends who had 
 seen his slight adventure, and he wasted much time in 
 spinning these yarns, and much money in buying books 
 of derring-do and wild 'scapes at sea. He loved those
 
 THE SHORT STORY 67 
 
 who believed his stories to be true, and shocked the rare 
 minds that seemed to catch in them a suspicion of 
 exaggeration. He could not long frequent the same 
 society, and he strained his mind a little out of shape 
 by the perpetual necessity of creative effort. None the 
 less, I think that, on the whole, he gained. It made 
 him an artist : he saw great visions of heaving waters at 
 night; he really had, in fancy, faced death in a terrible 
 form, and this gave him a singular courage in his last 
 moments. He said to the doctor, with a slight calm 
 smile, ' ' Tell me the worst ; I have been through things 
 far more terrifying than this ' ' ; and when he was 
 offered consolation by his weeping friends, he told them 
 that ' ' no petty phrases of ritual devotion were needed to 
 soothe a man who had been face to face with Nature in 
 her wildest moods." So he died, comforted by his 
 illusion, and for some days after the funeral his sister 
 would hold him up to his only and favourite nephew as 
 an example of a high and strenuous life lived with 
 courage, and ended in heroic quiet. Then they all went 
 to hear the will read. 
 
 But the will was the greatest surprise of all. For it 
 opened with these words : 
 
 " Having some experience of the perils they suffer that go 
 down to the sea in ships, and of the blessedness of unex- 
 pected relief and rescue, I, John Curtail Thorpe, humbly and 
 gratefully reminiscent of my own wonderful and miraculous 
 snatching from the jaws of death . . ." 
 
 And it went on to leave the whole property (including 
 the little place in Surrey), in all (after Sir William 
 Vernon Harcourt's death duties had been paid) some 
 ^69,337 6s. 3d. to the Lifeboat Fund, which badly
 
 68 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 needed it. Nor was there any modifying codicil but 
 one, whereby the sum of ^1,000, free of duty, was left 
 to Sylvester Sarassin, a poetic and long-haired young 
 man, who had for years attended to his tales with 
 reverent attention, and who had, indeed, drawn up, or 
 " Englished " (as he called it), the remarkable will of 
 the testator. 
 
 Many other things that followed this, the law-suit, 
 the quarrel of the nephew with Sarassin, and so forth, 
 I would relate had I the space or you the patience. 
 But it grows late ; the oil in the bulb is exhausted. The 
 stars, which (in the beautiful words of Theocritus) 
 " tremble and always follow the quiet wheels of the 
 night," warn me that it is morning. Farewell.
 
 IV 
 THE SHORT LYRIC 
 
 MANY Guides to Literature give no rules for the manu- 
 facture of short lyrics, and nearly all of them omit to 
 furnish the student with an example of this kind of 
 composition. 
 
 The cause of this unfortunate neglect (as I deem it) 
 is not far to seek. Indeed in one Textbook (Mrs. 
 Railston's Book for Beginners. Patteson. 125. 6d.) 
 it is set down in so many words. " The Short Lyric," 
 says Mrs. Railston in her preface, " is practically inno- 
 cent of pecuniary value. Its construction should be 
 regarded as a pastime rather than as serious exercise; 
 and even for the purposes of recreation, its fabrication 
 is more suited to the leisure of a monied old age than to 
 the struggle of eager youth, or the full energies of a 
 strenuous manhood " (p. 34). 
 
 The judgment here pronounced is surely erroneous. 
 The short Lyric is indeed not very saleable (though 
 there are exceptions even to that rule the first Lord 
 Tennyson is said to have received ^200 for The 
 Throstle); it is (I say) not very saleable, but it is of 
 great indirect value to the writer, especially in early 
 youth. A reputation can be based upon a book of short 
 lyrics which will in time procure for its author Review : 
 ing work upon several newspapers, and sometimes, 
 
 69
 
 70 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 towards his fortieth year, the editorship of a magazine ; 
 later in life it will often lead to a pension, to the 
 command of an army corps, or even to the governorship 
 of a colony. 
 
 I feel, therefore, no hesitation in describing at some 
 length the full process of its production, or in presenting 
 to the student a careful plan of the difficulties which will 
 meet him at the outset. 
 
 To form a proper appreciation of these last, it is 
 necessary to grasp the fundamental fact that they all 
 proceed from the inability of busy editors and readers 
 to judge the quality of verse; hence the rebuffs and 
 delays that so often overcast the glorious morning of 
 the Poetic Soul. 
 
 At the risk of some tedium for the full story is of 
 considerable length I will show what is their nature 
 and effect, in the shape of a relation of what happened 
 to Mr. Peter Gurney some years ago, before he became 
 famous. 
 
 Mr. Peter Gurney (I may say it without boasting) is 
 one of my most intimate friends. He is, perhaps, the 
 most brilliant of that brilliant group of young poets 
 which includes Mr. John Stewart, Mr. Henry Hawk, 
 etc., and which is known as the " Cobbley school," 
 from the fact that their historic meeting-ground was the 
 house of Mr. Thomas Cobbley, himself no mean poet, 
 but especially a creative, seminal critic, and uncle of 
 Mr. Gurney. But to my example and lesson : 
 
 Mr. Gurney was living in those days in Bloomsbury, 
 and was occupied in reading for the bar. 
 
 He was by nature slothful and unready, as is indeed 
 the sad habit of literary genius ; he rose late, slept long,
 
 THE SHORT LYRIC 71 
 
 eat heartily, drank deeply, read newspapers, began 
 things he never finished, and wrote the ending of things 
 whose beginnings he never accomplished ; in a word, he 
 was in every respect the man of letters. He looked 
 back continually at the stuff he had written quite a short 
 time before, and it always made him hesitate in his 
 opinion of what he was actually engaged in. It was 
 but six months before the events herein set down that he 
 had written 
 
 " The keep of the unconquerable mind " 
 
 only to discover that it was clap-trap and stolen from 
 Wordsworth at that. How, then, could he dare send 
 off the sonnet 
 
 " If all intent of unsubstantial art " 
 
 and perhaps get it printed in the Nineteenth Century or 
 the North American Review, when (for all he knew) it 
 might really be very poor verse indeed? 
 
 These two things, then, his sloth and his hesitation in 
 criticism, prevented Peter from sending out as much as 
 he should have done. But one fine day of last summer, 
 a kind of music passed into him from universal nature, 
 and he sat down and wrote these remarkable lines : 
 
 " He is not dead ; the leaders do not die, 
 But rather, lapt in immemorial ease 
 Of merit consummate, they passing, stand ; 
 And rapt from rude reality, remain ; 
 And in the flux and eddy of time, are still. 
 Therefore I call it consecrated sand 
 Wherein they left their prints, nor overgrieve ; 
 An heir of English earth let English earth receive."
 
 72 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 He had heard that Culture of Boston, Mass., U.S.A., 
 paid more for verse than any other review, so he sent it 
 off to that address, accompanied by a very earnest little 
 letter, calling the gem " Immortality," and waiting for 
 the answer. 
 
 The editor of Culture is a businesslike man, who 
 reads his English mail on the quay at New York, and 
 takes stamped envelopes and rejection forms down with 
 him to the steamers. 
 
 He looked up Peter's name in the Red Book, Who's 
 Who, Burke, the Court Guide, and what not, and find- 
 ing it absent from all these, he took it for granted that 
 there was no necessity for any special courtesies ; Peter 
 therefore, fifteen days after sending off his poem, received 
 an envelope whose stamp illustrated the conquest of the 
 Philippines by an Armed Liberty, while in the top left- 
 hand corner were printed these simple words : " If not 
 delivered within three days, please return to Box 257, 
 Boston, Mass., U.S.A." 
 
 He was very pleased to get this letter. It was the 
 first reply he had ever got from an editor, and he took 
 it up unopened to the Hoi born, to read it during lunch. 
 But there was very little to read. The original verse 
 had folded round it a nice half-sheet of cream-laid 
 notepaper, with a gold f,eur de Its in the corner, and 
 underneath the motto, "Devoir Fera"; then, in the 
 middle of the sheet, three or four lines of fine copper- 
 plate engraving, printed also in gold, and running as 
 follows : 
 
 " The editor of Culture regrets that he is unable to accept 
 the enclosed contribution ; it must not be imagined that any 
 adverse criticism or suggestion is thereby passed upon the
 
 THE SHORT LYRIC 73 
 
 work; pressure of space, the previous acceptation of similar 
 matter, and other causes having necessarily to be con- 
 sidered." 
 
 Peter was so much encouraged by this, that he sent 
 his verses at once to Mr. McGregor, changing, however, 
 the word " rude " in the fourth line to " rough," and 
 adding a comma after "rapt," points insignificant in 
 themselves perhaps, but indicative of a critic's ear, and 
 certain (as he thought) to catch the approval of the 
 distinguished scholar. In twenty-four hours he got his 
 reply in the shape of an affectionate letter, enclosing 
 his MSS. : 
 
 " MY DEAR PETER, 
 
 "No; I should be doing an injustice to my readers 
 if I were to print your verse in the Doctrinaire; but you 
 must not be discouraged by this action on my part. You are 
 still very young, and no one who has followed (as you may 
 be sure I have) your brilliant career at the University can 
 doubt your ultimate success in whatever profession you under- 
 take. But the path of letters is a stony one, and the level of 
 general utility in such work is only reached by the most 
 arduous efforts. I saw your Aunt Phoebe the other day, and 
 she was warm in your praises. She told me you were think- 
 ing of becoming an architect ; I sincerely hope you will, for 
 I believe you have every aptitude for that profession. Plod 
 on steadily and I will go warrant for your writing verse with 
 the best of them. It is inevitable, my dear Peter, that one's 
 early verse should be imitative and weak ; but you have the 
 ' inner voice,' do but follow the gleam and never allow your 
 first enthusiasms to grow dim. 
 
 " Always your Father's Old Friend, 
 
 "ARCHIBALD WELLINGTON MCGREGOR." 
 
 Peter was a little pained by this; but he answered it 
 very politely, inviting himself to lunch on the following 
 Thursday, and then, turning to his verses, he gave the
 
 74 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 title " Dead," and sent them to the Patriot, from whom 
 he got no reply for a month. 
 
 He then wrote to the editor of the Patriot on a post- 
 card, and said that, in view of the present deplorable 
 reaction in politics, he feared the verses, if they were 
 held over much longer, would lose their point. Would 
 the Patriot be so kind, then, as to let him know what 
 they proposed to do with the Poem? 
 
 He got a reply the same evening : 
 
 " Telephone 239. " 36*, CLARE MARKET, 
 
 "Telegraph, *Vindex: " W.C. 
 
 " DE. SIB, 
 
 " Your estd. favour to hand. No stamp being enclosed 
 with verses, we have retained same, but will forward on 
 receipt of two stamps, including cost of this. 
 
 " Faithfully yrs., 
 
 " ALPHONSE RIPHRAIM 
 
 " Please note change of address." 
 
 By this Peter Gurney was so angered, that he walked 
 straight over to his club, rang up No. 239, and told the 
 editor of the Patriot, personally, by word of mouth, 
 and with emphasis, that he was a Pro-Boer; then he 
 rang off before that astonished foreigner had time to 
 reply. 
 
 But men of Mr. Peter Gurney 's stamp are not cast 
 down by these reverses. He remembered one rather low 
 and insignificant sheet called the Empire, in which a 
 vast number of unknown names had been appearing at 
 the bottom of ballads, sonnets, and so forth, dealing 
 mainly with the foreign policy of Great Britain, to 
 which country (as being their native land) the writers 
 were apparently warmly attached.
 
 THE SHORT LYRIC 75 
 
 Peter Gurney flattered himself that he understood why 
 the Empire made a speciality of beginners. It was a 
 new paper with little capital, and thought (wisely 
 enough) that if it printed many such juvenilia it would, 
 among the lot, strike some vein of good verse. He had 
 heard of such ventures in journalism, and remembered 
 being told that certain sonnets of Mr. Lewis Morris, and 
 even the earlier poems of Tennyson, were thus buried 
 away in old magazines. He copied out his verses once 
 more, gave them the new title " Aspiro," and sent them 
 to the Empire. He got a very polite letter in reply : 
 
 " DEAR MR. , 
 
 " I have read your verses with much pleasure, and see 
 by them that the praise I have heard on all sides of your 
 unpublished work was not unmerited. Unfortunately, the 
 Empire cannot afford to pay anything for its verse; and so 
 large has been the demand upon our space, that we have been 
 compelled to make it a rule that all contributions of this 
 nature should pay a slight premium to obtain a space in our 
 columns. But for this it would be impossible to distinguish 
 between competitors without the risk of heartburnings and 
 petty jealousies. We enclose our scale of charges, which are 
 (as you see), purely nominal, and remain, awaiting your 
 order to print, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " WILLIAM POWER." 
 
 I need hardly tell you that Peter, on receiving this 
 letter, put two farthings into an envelope addressed to 
 William Power, and was careful not to register or 
 stamp it. 
 
 As for his Poem, he changed the title to " They 
 Live !" and sent it to the editor of Criticism. Next day 
 he was not a little astonished to get his verses back, 
 folded up in the following waggish letter :
 
 76 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 " THE LAURELS, 
 
 " 20, POPLAR GROVE, 
 
 " S.W. 
 " Monday, the aist of April. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " I am directed by the editor 
 To say that lack of space and press of matter 
 Forbid his using your delightful verses, 
 Which, therefore, he returns. Believe me still 
 Very sincerely yours, Nathaniel Pickersgill." 
 
 Now not a little disconsolate, young Mr. Gurney 
 went out into the street, and thought of Shavings as a 
 last chance. Shavings gave a guinea to the best poem 
 on a given subject, and printed some of the others sent 
 in. This week he remembered the subject was a eulogy 
 of General Whitelock. He did not hesitate, therefore, 
 to recast his poem, and to call it a "Threnody" on 
 that commander, neglecting, by a poetic fiction, the fact 
 that he was alive, and even looking well after his eight 
 months of hard work against the Warra-Muggas. He 
 went into the great buildings where Shavings is edited, 
 and saw a young man opening with immense rapidity a 
 hand -barrow ful of letters, while a second sorted them 
 with the speed of lightning, and a third tied them into 
 neat bundles of five hundred each, and placed them in 
 pigeon-holes under their respective initial letters. 
 
 "Pray, sir," said Peter to the first of these three 
 men, "what are you doing?" "I am," replied the 
 functionary, " just finishing my week's work " (for it 
 was a Saturday morning), " and in the course of these 
 four hours alone I am proud to say that I have opened 
 no less than seven thousand three hundred and two 
 poems on our great Leader, some of which, indeed,
 
 THE SHORT LYRIC 77 
 
 have been drawn from the principal English poets, but 
 the greater part of which are, I am glad to say, 
 original." 
 
 Embittered by such an experience, my friend Gurney 
 returned to his home, and wrote that same afternoon the 
 Satire on Modern Literature, in which he introduces his 
 own .verses as an example and warning, and on which, 
 as all the world knows, his present fame reposes. 
 
 To-day everyone who reads these lines is envious of 
 Mr. Peter Gurney 's fame. He is the leader of the 
 whole Cobbley school, the master of his own cousin, 
 Mr. Peter Davey, and without question the model upon 
 which Mr. Henry Hawk, Mr. Daniel Witton, and Mr. 
 John Stuart have framed their poetic manner. He 
 suffered and was strong. He condescended to prose, 
 and kept his verse in reserve. The result no poet can 
 ignore. 
 
 I should but mislead the student were I to pretend 
 that Mr. Peter Gurney achieved his present reputation 
 a reputation perhaps somewhat exaggerated, but based 
 upon real merit and industry by any spontaneous effort. 
 Hard, regular, unflinching labour in this, as in every 
 other profession, is the condition of success. But the 
 beginner may say (and with justice), "It is not enough 
 to tell me to work; how should I set about it? What 
 rules should I follow?" Let me pursue my invariable 
 custom, and set down in the simplest and most methodical 
 form the elements of the Short Lyric. 
 
 The student will, at some time or another, have 
 suffered strong emotions. He will have desired to give 
 them metrical form. He will have done so and com- 
 monly he will have gone no farther. I have before me
 
 7 8 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 as I write a verse, the opening of one of the most unsuc- 
 cessful poems ever written. It runs : 
 
 " I am not as my fathers were, 
 I cannot pass from sleep to sleep, 
 Or live content to drink the deep 
 Contentment of the common air." 
 
 This is very bad. It is bad because it proceeded 
 from a deep emotion only, and shot out untrammelled. 
 It has no connection with verse as an art, and yet that 
 art lies open for any young man who will be patient and 
 humble, and who will learn. 
 
 His first business is to decide at once between the 
 only two styles possible in manufactured verse, the 
 Obscure and the Prattling. I say " the only two styles " 
 because I don't think you can tackle the Grandiose, and 
 I am quite certain you couldn't manage the Satiric. I 
 know a young man in Red Lion Square who can do the 
 Grandiose very well, and I am going to boom him 
 when I think the time has come; but the Student - 
 in-Ordinary cannot do it, so he may put it out of his 
 head. 
 
 I will take the Simple or Prattling style first. Choose 
 a subject from out of doors, first because it is the 
 fashion, and secondly because you can go and observe 
 it closely. For you must know that manufactured verse 
 is very like drawing, and in both arts you have to take a 
 model and be careful of details. Let us take (e.g.) 
 a Pimpernel. 
 
 A Pimpernel is quite easy to write about ; it has 
 remarkable habits, it is not gross or common. It would 
 be much harder to write about grass, for instance, or 
 parsley.
 
 THE SHORT LYRIC 79 
 
 First you write down anything that occurs to you, 
 like this : 
 
 " Pretty little Pimpernel, 
 May I learn to love you well?" 
 
 You continue on the style of "Twinkle, twinkle." 
 
 " Hiding in the mossy shade, 
 Like a lamp of u made, 
 Or a gem by fairies dropt 
 In their . . ." 
 
 and there you stick, just as you had got into the style of 
 the " L' Allegro. " I have no space or leisure to give 
 the student the full treatment of so great a subject, how 
 he would drag in the closing and opening of the flower, 
 and how (skilfully avoiding the word " dell ") he would 
 end his ten or fifteen lines by a repetition of the first (an 
 essential feature of the Prattling style). I will confine 
 myself to showing him what may be made of these 
 ridiculous six lines. 
 
 The first has an obvious fault. It runs too quickly, 
 and one falls all over it. We will keep "Little" 
 and put it first, so one might write " Little Purple 
 Pimpernel." But even that won't do, though the 
 alliteration is well enough. What change can we make ? 
 
 It is at this point that I must introduce you to a most 
 perfect principle. It is called the Mutation of Adjec- 
 tives it is almost the whole art of Occ. verse. This 
 principle consists in pulling out one's first obvious 
 adjective, and replacing it by another of similar length, 
 chosen because it is peculiar. You must not put in an 
 adjective that could not possibly apply; for instance, 
 you must not speak of the " Ponderous Rabbit " or the.
 
 8o THE AFTERMATH 
 
 " Murky Beasts"; your adjective must be applicable, 
 but it must be startling, as " The Tolerant Cow," " The 
 Stammering Minister," or "The Greasy Hill" all 
 quite true and most unexpected. 
 
 Now, here it is evident that Purple is commonplace. 
 What else can we find about the Pimpernel that is quite 
 true and yet really startling ? Let us (for instance) call 
 it "tasteless." There you have it, "Little tasteless 
 Pimpernel " no one could read that too quickly, and 
 it shows at the same time great knowledge of nature. 
 
 I will not weary you with every detail of the process, 
 but I will write down my result after all the rules have 
 been properly attended to. Read this, and see whether 
 the lines do not fit with my canons of art, especially in 
 what is called the " choice of words " : 
 
 " Little tasteless Pimpernel, 
 Shepherd's Holt and warning spell 
 Crouching in the cushat shade 
 Like a mond of mowry made. ..." 
 
 and so forth. There you have a perfect little gem. 
 Nearly all the words are curious and well chosen, and 
 yet the metre trips along like a railway carriage. The 
 simplicity lies in the method ; the quaint diction is 
 quarried from Mr. Skeats' excellent book on etymology ; 
 but I need not point out any particular work, as 
 your " Thesaurus " in this matter is for your own 
 choosing. 
 
 So much for the Prattling style. 
 
 As for the Obscure style, it is so easy that it is 
 getting overdone, and I would not depend too much 
 upon it. 
 
 In its origins, it was due to the vagaries of some
 
 THE SHORT LYRIC 81 
 
 gentlemen and ladies who suffered from an imperfect 
 education, and wrote as they felt, without stopping to 
 think. 
 
 But that first holy rapture cannot be recovered. We 
 must work by rule. The rules attaching to this kind of 
 work are six : 
 
 (1) Put the verb in the wrong place (some leave it 
 out altogether) ; 
 
 (2) Use words that may be either verbs or nouns 
 plurals are very useful ; 
 
 (3) Punctuate insufficiently; 
 
 (4) Make a special use of phrases that have two or 
 three meanings ; 
 
 (5) Leave out relatives; 
 
 (6) Have whole sentences in apposition. 
 
 Some of our young poets have imagined that the mere 
 use of strange words made up the Obscure style. I 
 need not say that they were wrong. Thus, the lines 
 
 " And shall I never tread them more, 
 My murrant balks of wealden lathes?" 
 
 are singularly bad. Anyone could be obscure in so 
 simple a fashion. It behoves the student rather to read 
 carefully such lines as the following, in which I have 
 again tackled the Pimpernel, this time in the Obscure 
 manner. 
 
 I begin with " What Pimpernels," which might mean 
 "What! Pimpernels?" or, " What Pimpernels?" or 
 again, "What Pimpernels/"; expressing surprise, or 
 a question, or astonished admiration : but do you think 
 I am going to give the show away by telling the reader 
 what I mean ? Not a bit of it. There is something in 
 
 6
 
 82 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 our island temper which loves mystery : something of 
 the North. I flatter myself I can do it thoroughly : 
 
 " What Pimpernels ; a rare indulgence blesses 
 The winter wasting in imperfect suns 
 And Pimpernels are in the waning, runs 
 A hand unknown the careless winter dresses, 
 Not for your largess to the ruined fells, 
 Her floors in waste, I call you, Pimpernels." 
 
 There ! I think that will do very fairly well. One 
 can make sense out of it, and it is broad and full, like 
 a modern religion; it has many aspects, and it makes 
 men think. There is not one unusual word, and the 
 second line is a clear and perfect bit of English. Yet 
 how deep and solemn and thorough is the whole ! 
 
 And yet, for all my ability in these matters, I may 
 not offer an example for the reader to follow. I am 
 conscious of something more powerful (within this strict 
 channel), and I am haunted reproachfully by a great 
 soul. May I quote what none but She could have 
 written? It is the most perfect thing that modern 
 England knows. Every lesson I might painfully convey 
 there stands manifest, of itself, part of the Created 
 Thing. 
 
 THE YELLOW MUSTARD 
 
 Oh ! ye that prink it to and fro, 
 In pointed flounce and furbelow, 
 What have ye known, what can ye know 
 That have not seen the mustard grow? 
 
 The yellow mustard is no less 
 Than God's good gift to loneliness; 
 And he was sent in gorgeous press, 
 To jangle keys at my distress.
 
 THE SHORT LYRIC 83 
 
 I heard the throstle call again 
 Come hither, Pain ! come hither, Pain ! 
 Till all my shameless feet were fain 
 To wander through the summer rain. 
 
 And far apart from human place, 
 And flaming like a vast disgrace, 
 There struck me blinding in the face 
 The livery of the mustard race. 
 
 To see the yellow mustard grow 
 Beyond the town, above, below ; 
 Beyond the purple houses, oh ! 
 To see the yellow mustard grow !
 
 V 
 
 THE INTERVIEW 
 
 IT is now some years ago since I was sitting in Mr. 
 Caliban's study, writing in his name upon the Balance 
 of Power in Europe. I had just completed my article, 
 and passed it to him to sign, when I noticed that he was 
 too much absorbed in a book which he was reading to 
 pay attention to my gesture. 
 
 Men of his stamp enforce courtesy in others by their 
 mere presence. It would have been impossible to have 
 disturbed him. I turned to a somewhat more lengthy 
 composition, which was also to appear above his signa- 
 ture, entitled, " The Effect of Greek Philosophy upon 
 European Thought." When I had completed my 
 analysis of this profound historical influence, I thought 
 that my master and guide would have freed himself 
 from the net of the author who thus entranced him. I 
 was mistaken. I had, however, but just begun a third 
 article, of which the subject escapes me, when he turned 
 to me and said, closing the book between his hands : 
 
 " Will you go and interview someone for me?" 
 
 I fear my sudden change of expression betrayed the 
 fact that the idea was repugnant to one familiar rather 
 with foreign politics and with the Classics than with the 
 reporters' side of the paper. 
 
 Mr. Caliban looked at my collar with his kindly eyes, 
 and kept them fixed upon it for some seconds. He then 
 smiled (if such a man could be said to smile) and 
 continued : 
 
 84
 
 THE INTERVIEW 85 
 
 " I want to tell you something ..." 
 
 There was profound silence for a little while, during 
 which a number of thoughts passed through my mind. 
 I remembered that Dr. Caliban was Editor at that 
 moment of the Sunday Herald. I remembered that I 
 was his right hand, and that without me the enormous 
 labour he weekly undertook could never have been 
 accomplished without trespassing upon the sanctity of 
 the Sabbath. After a little hesitation, he pulled downj 
 his waistcoat, hitched his trousers at the knees, crossed 
 his legs, made a half-turn towards me (for his study- 
 chair was mounted upon a swivel), and said : 
 
 " It's like this . . . ." 
 
 I assured him that I would do what he wished, for I 
 knew, whenever he spoke in this tone, that there was 
 something to be done for England. 
 
 " It's like this," he went on, " I have found a man 
 here who should count, who should tell. It is a fearful 
 thought that such a mind can have remained so long 
 hidden. Here is a man with something in him quite 
 peculiar and apart and he is unknown ! It is England 
 through and through, and the best of England ; it is 
 more than that. Even where I disagree with him, I find 
 something like a living voice. He gets right at one, as 
 it were . . . yet I never heard his name !" 
 
 Here Mr. Caliban, having stopped for a moment, as 
 though seeking something in his memory, declaimed in 
 a rich monotone : 
 
 " Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear : 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
 
 86 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 There was a little silence. Then he said abruptly : 
 
 " Do you know Wordsworth's definition of a poet? 
 Take it down. I should like you to use it." 
 
 I pulled out my notebook and wrote in shorthand from 
 his dictation a sublime phrase, which was new to me : 
 " A Poet is a MAN speaking to MEN." 
 
 "This man," said Dr. Caliban simply, " is a man 
 speaking to men." 
 
 He put the book into my hands ; two or three of the 
 leaves were turned down, and on each page so marked 
 was a passage scored in pencil. The lines would have 
 arrested my eye, even had a greater mind than my own 
 not selected them. 
 
 " A. woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a 
 smoke." 
 
 " Tied wrist to bar for their red iniquitee." 
 
 " To do butcher work " (he is speaking of war) " yer 
 don't want gen'lemen t 'cept to lead." 
 
 " I got the gun-barrels red-hot and fetched the whip- 
 cord out of the cupboard, while the other man held the 
 screaming, writhing thing down upon the floor." 
 
 " Under whose (speaking of God) awful hand we 
 hold dominion over palm and pine." 
 
 I have no space to quote a longer passage of verse, 
 evidently intended to be sung to a banjo, and describing 
 the emotions of the author in a fit of delirium tremens 
 when he suffered from the hallucination that a red-hot 
 brass monkey was himself attempting song. The poet 
 showed no jealousy of the animal. There was the full, 
 hearty Anglo-Saxon friendship for a comrade and even 
 for a rival, and I met the same tone again on a further 
 page in the line :
 
 THE INTERVIEW 87 
 
 " You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din." 
 
 I looked up at Mr. Caliban and said : 
 
 "Well?" for these short phrases are often the 
 most emphatic. . 
 
 "Well," said Dr. Caliban, " tfiat man must not be 
 allowed to go under. He must be nja^e, and we must 
 make him." 
 
 I said that such a man^jfluld, not fail to pierce through 
 and conquer. He seemed^^very salt and marrow of 
 all that has made us great. 
 
 Dr. Caliban laid his hand in a fatherly way upon my 
 shoulder and said : 
 
 ' ' You are still young ; you do not know how long 
 fame may take to find a man, if the way is not pointed 
 out to her ; and if she takes too long, sometimes he dies 
 of a broken heart." 
 
 It was a noble thought in one who had known Fame 
 almost from the very day when, as a lad of 22 years old, 
 he had stood up in the chapel at Barking Level and 
 answered the preacher with the words, "Lord, here 
 ami." 
 
 Dr. Caliban continued in a few simple words to 
 convince me that my foolish pride alone stood between 
 this young genius and the fame he deserved. He pointed 
 out what a weight would lie upon my mind were that 
 poet some day to become famous, and to be able to say 
 when I presented myself at his receptions : 
 
 " Get ye hence : I know ye not !" 
 
 He added the awful words that death might find us 
 at any moment, and that then we should have to answer, 
 not for our reasons or our motives, but for the things we 
 have done, and for the things we have left undone. He
 
 ', 
 
 / / 
 
 88 THE^AFTERMATH 
 
 added that h/would regard a visit to this new writer as 
 overtime work, apd that he was ready to pay my expenses, 
 including cab fafeito and fiom the station. He ended 
 with an appeal ^kieh' "would have convince^ one less 
 ready to yield :a Munificent pjcture of ih/F Empire and 
 of the Voice fo/lnich* it hjuL^juted ^o long. 
 
 It seems unwortflWjft^Jfi^relation of this intimate 
 domestic scene, to adffag^Bpros of exhortation to the 
 reader and student. 
 
 I will not pretend that the interview is a form of true 
 literature. If I have been guilty of too great a con- 
 fidence, my excess has proceeded from an earnest desire 
 to watch over others of my kind, and to warn them lest 
 by one chance refusal they should destroy the oppor- 
 tunities of a lifetime. 
 
 To interview another, even a rival, is sometimes 
 necessary at the outset of a career. It is an experience 
 that need not be repeated. It is one that no earnest 
 student of human nature will regret. 
 
 The powerful emotions aroused by the reminiscence 
 of Dr. Caliban's eloquence, and of the meeting to which 
 it led, must not be desecrated by too lengthy an insist- 
 ance upon the mere technique of a subsidiary branch of 
 modern letters. I will state very briefly my conclusions 
 as to what is indispensable in the regulation of this kind 
 of literature. 
 
 It is, in the first place, of some moment that the 
 young interviewer should take his hat and gloves with 
 him in his left hand into the room. If he carries an 
 umbrella or cane, this also should be carried in the same 
 hand, leaving the right hand completely free. Its
 
 THE INTERVIEW 89 
 
 readiness for every purpose is the mark of a gentleman, 
 and the maintenance of that rank is absolutely necessary 
 to the sans gene which should accompany a true inter- 
 view. 
 
 In the second place, let him, the moment he appears, 
 explain briefly the object of his visit. Without any such 
 introduction as " The fact is ..." " It is very odd, 
 but . . ." let him say plainly and simply, like an 
 Englishman, " I have been sent to interview you on the 
 part of such and such a paper." 
 
 He will then be handed (in the majority of cases) a 
 short type- written statement, which he will take into his 
 right hand, pass into his left, in among the gloves, stick, 
 hat, etc. , and will bow, not from the shoulders, nor from 
 the hips, but subtly from the central vertebrae. 
 
 In the third place he will go out of the room. 
 
 There are two exceptions to this general procedure. 
 The first is with men quite unknown; the second with 
 men of high birth or great wealth. 
 
 In the first case, the hat and gloves should be laid 
 upon a table and the stick leaning against it in such a 
 way as not to fall down awkwardly in the middle of a 
 conversation. The student will then begin to talk in 
 a genial manner loudly, and will continue for about 
 half -an-hour ; he will end by looking at his watch, and 
 will go away and write down what he feels inclined. 
 
 In the second case, he will do exactly the same, but 
 with a different result, for in the first case he will very 
 probably become the friend of the person interviewed, 
 which would have happened anyhow, and in the second 
 case he will be forbidden the house, a result equally 
 inevitable.
 
 90 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 I cannot conclude these remarks without exhorting the 
 young writer most earnestly, when he is entering upon 
 the first of these distressing experiences, to place a firm 
 trust in Divine Providence, and to remember that, come' 
 what may, he has done his duty. 
 
 If he should have any further hesitation as to the 
 general manner in which an interview should be written, 
 he has but to read what follows. It constitutes the 
 interview which I held with that young genius whom 
 Mr. Caliban persuaded me to visit, and of whose fame 
 I shall therefore always feel myself a part. 
 
 INTERVIEW 
 WITH HIM 
 
 (Written specially for the Sunday Englishman, by the 
 Rev. JAMES CALIBAN, D.D.)* 
 
 " By the peace among the peoples, men shall know ye serve 
 the Lord." DEUTERONOMY, xvi. 7. 
 
 . . . Leaping into a well-appointed cab, I was soon 
 whirled to a terminus which shall be nameless, not a 
 hundred miles from Brandon Street, and had the good 
 luck to swing myself into the guard's van just as the 
 train was steaming out from the platform. I plunged 
 at once in medias res, and some two hours later alit in 
 the sunny and growing residential town of Worthing. 
 I hailed a vehicle which plied for hire, and begged the 
 driver to conduct me to 29, Darbhai Road, " if indeed," 
 
 * I reproduce the title in its original form. I was only 
 too pleased to know that my work would appear above his 
 signature; nor do I see anything reprehensible in what is now 
 a recognised custom among journalists.
 
 THE INTERVIEW 91 
 
 to quote my own words to the Jehu, "if indeed it be 
 worth a drive. I understand it is close upon a mile." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the honest fellow. "You will 
 find, sir, that it is quite a mile, sir. Indeed, sir, we 
 call it a little over a mile, sir." 
 
 I was soon whirled, as fast as the type of carriage 
 permitted, to Laburnum Lodge, Darbhai Road, where a 
 neat-handed Phyllis smilingly opened the door for me, 
 and took my card up to her master, bidding me be 
 seated awhile in the hall. I had the leisure to notice 
 that it was lit by two stained glass panels above the 
 entrance, representing Alfred the Great and Queen 
 Victoria. In a few minutes the servant returned with 
 the message that her master would be down in a moment, 
 and begged me to enter his parlour until he could attend 
 me, as he was just then in his study, looking out of 
 window at a cricket match in an adjoining field. 
 
 I found myself in a richly-furnished room, surrounded 
 by curious relics of travel, and I was delighted to notice 
 the little characteristic touches that marked the personal 
 tastes of my host. Several skulls adorned the walls, 
 and I observed that any natural emotion they might 
 cause was heightened by a few tasteful lines such as 
 actors paint upon their faces. Thus one appeared to 
 grin beyond the ordinary, another was fitted with false 
 eyes, and all had that peculiar subtle expression upon 
 which genius loves to repose in its moments of leisure. 
 I had barely time to mark a few more notable matters in 
 my surroundings, when I was aware that I was in the 
 presence of my host. 
 
 "No," or "Yes," said the great man, smiling 
 through his spectacles and puffing a cloud of smoke
 
 9 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 towards me in a genial fashion, " I do not in the least 
 mind telling you how it is done. I do not think," he 
 added drily, " that any other fellows will pull quite 
 the same chock-a-block haul, even if I do give them the 
 fall of the halyard. You must excuse these technical 
 terms ; I make it a point to speak as I write I think it 
 is more natural." 
 
 I said I should be delighted to excuse him. 
 
 " I hope you will also excuse," he continued, "my 
 throwing myself into my favourite attitude." 
 
 I said that, on the contrary, I had long wished to see it. 
 
 With a sigh of relief he thrust those creative hands 
 of his into his trouser pockets, slightly stooped his 
 shoulders, and appeared to my delight exactly as he 
 does in the photograph he handed me for publication. 
 
 " To show you how it is done, I cannot begin better 
 than by a little example," he said. 
 
 He went to a neighbouring table, rummaged about in 
 a pile of the Outlook and Vanity Fair, and produced a 
 scrap of paper upon which there was a type-written 
 poem. His hands trembled with pleasure, but he con- 
 trolled himself well (for he is a strong, silent kind of 
 man), and continued : 
 
 " I will not weary you with the whole of this Work. 
 I am sure you must already be familiar with it. In the 
 Volunteer camp where I was recently staying, and where 
 I slept under canvas like anybody else, the officers knew 
 it by heart, and used to sing it to a tune of my own 
 composition (for you must know that I write these little 
 things to airs of my own). I will only read you the 
 last verse, which, as is usual in my lyrics, contains the 
 pith of the whole matter."
 
 THE INTERVIEW 
 
 93 
 
 Then in a deep voice he intoned the following, with 
 a slightly nasal accent which lent it a peculiarly indi- 
 vidual flavour : 
 
 " I'm sorry for Mister Naboth ; 
 
 I'm sorry to make him squeak ; 
 But the Lawd above me made me strawng 
 In order to pummel the weak. 
 
 " That chorus, which applies to one of the most 
 important problems of the Empire, contains nearly all 
 the points that illustrate ' How it is Done. ' In the first 
 place, note the conception of the Law. It has been my 
 effort to imprint this idea of the Law upon the mind of 
 the English-speaking world a phrase, by the way, far 
 preferable to that of Anglo-Saxon, which I take this 
 opportunity of publicly repudiating. You may, perhaps, 
 have noticed that my idea of the Law is the strongest 
 thing in modern England. ' Do this because I tell you, 
 or it will be the worse for you,' is all we know, and all 
 we need to know. For so, it seems to me, Heaven" 
 (here he reverently raised the plain billy-cock hat which 
 he is in the habit of wearing in his drawing-room) 
 " governs the world, and we who are Heaven's lieu- 
 tenants can only follow upon the same lines. I will not 
 insist upon the extent to which the religious training I 
 enjoyed in early youth helped to cast me in that great 
 mould. You have probably noticed its effect in all 
 my work." 
 
 I said I had. 
 
 " Well, then, first and foremost, I have in this typical 
 instance brought out my philosophy of the Law. In my 
 private conversation I call this ' following the gleam.' ' 
 
 " Now for the adventitious methods by which I
 
 94 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 rnlunce the value of my work. Consider the lilt. 
 ' Lilt ' is the ' Turn ti ti turn ti turn ' effect which you 
 may have felt in my best verse." 
 
 I assured him I had indeed felt it. 
 
 " Lilt," he continued, " is the hardest thing of all to 
 acquire. Thousands attempt it, and hundreds fail. I 
 have it (though I say it who should not) to perfection. 
 It is the quality you will discover in the old ballads, 
 but there it is often marred by curious accidents which 
 I can never properly explain. Their metre is often 
 very irregular, and I fancy that their style (which my 
 Work closely resembles) has suffered by continual copy- 
 ing. No : where you get the true ' Lilt ' is in the music 
 halls I am sorry it is so often wasted upon impertinent 
 themes. Do you know ' It is all very fine and large,' 
 or ' At my time of life,' or again, ' Now we shan't be 
 long'?" 
 
 I answered I had them all three by heart. 
 
 " I shouldn't say they were worth that," he answered, 
 as a shade of disappointment appeared upon his delicate, 
 mobile features, " but there is a place where you get 
 it to perfection, and that is Macaulay's Lays of Ancient 
 Rome. They are my favourite reading. But that is 
 another story. 
 
 " To turn to quite a different point, the Vernacular. 
 It isn't everything that will go down in ordinary English. 
 Of course I do use ordinary English at least, Bible 
 English, in my best work. For instance, there is a 
 little thing called "In the Confessional," which I 
 propose to read to you later, and which has no slang nor 
 swear- words from beginning to end. 
 
 " But, of course, that is quite an exception. Most
 
 THE INTERVIEW 95 
 
 things won't stand anything but dialect, and I just give 
 you this tip gratis. You can make anything individual 
 and strong by odd spelling. It arrests the attention, 
 and you haven't got to pick your words. Did you ever 
 read a beautiful work called Colorado Bill; or, From 
 Cowboy to President? Well, I can assure you that when 
 it was in English, before being turned into dialect, it 
 was quite ordinary-like. 
 
 " But that ain't all. One has now and then to strike 
 a deeper note, and striking a deeper note is so simple, 
 that I wonder it has not occurred to others of our poets. 
 You have got to imagine yourself in a church, and you 
 must read over your manuscript to yourself in that kind 
 of hollow voice you know what I mean." 
 
 I swore that I did. 
 
 ' ' Now, you see why one puts ' ye ' for ' you, ' and 
 ' ye be ' for ' you are, ' and mentions the Law in so many 
 words. It is not very difficult to do, and when one does 
 succeed, one getswhat I call Ai copper-bottomed poetry." 
 
 He went to a corner of the room, opened a large, 
 scented, velvet-bound book upon a brass reading-desk, 
 looked at me severely, coughed twice, and began as 
 follows : 
 
 " I am about to read you ' In the Confessional.' The 
 greatest critic of the century has called this the greatest 
 poem of the century. I begin at the third verse, and 
 the seventeenth line : 
 
 * * * # * 
 
 " Lest he forget the great ally 
 In heaven yclept hypocrisy, 
 So help me Bawb ! I'll mark him yet 
 Lest he forget ! Lest he forget !"
 
 96 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 He closed the book with becoming reverence. 
 
 And there was a silence, during which the grand 
 words went on running in my head as their author had 
 meant them to do. " Lest he forget ! Lest he forget !" 
 Ah, may heaven preserve its darling poet, and never let 
 him fall from the height of that great message. 
 
 " Well," said he, genially, anticipating my applause, 
 " good-bye. But before you go please let me beg you 
 to tell the public that I lately wrote something for the 
 Times a great deal better than anything else I have ever 
 written. Nobody seems to read the Times," he con- 
 tinued, in a tone of slight petulance, " and I have not 
 seen it quoted anywhere. I wonder if it is properly 
 known? Please tell people that that little note about 
 ' copyright ' is only for fun. Anyone may use it who 
 likes I had a paragraph put in the papers to say so. 
 
 It's like this " He then added a few conventional 
 
 words of God-speed, and I left him. I have never seen 
 him since. 
 
 And yet ... and yet ... 
 
 The student will now pardon me, I trust, if I go 
 somewhat more deeply into things than is customary in 
 textbooks of this class. That little conquest over pride, 
 that little task honestly performed, earned me some- 
 thing I shall value for ever, something that will be 
 handed down in our family "even unto the third and 
 the fourth generation " (Habb. vii. 13). It is something 
 that means far, far more to me than a mere acquaintance 
 with an author could possibly have done. For who can 
 gauge so volatile a thing as friendship? Who could 
 with certitude have pointed me out and said, " There 
 goes His friend " ? The Written Thing remained.
 
 THE INTERVIEW 97 
 
 In my room, nay, just above me as I write, hangs 
 framed the following note in pencil. 
 
 "Awfully glad to see the stuff in the ' Herald,' but 
 say are you old Caliban? That was rather stiff on a 
 jack high? Wasn't it? Nevermind. You didn't ask 
 me for my auto, but I send it herewith right along, for 
 I like you." 
 
 There is the Man Alone as He IS . . . It seems 
 of small moment, but there is something more. Framed 
 in dark oak and gold very sumptuously, and hanging 
 quite apart, is the little shred of paper which He 
 enclosed. Shall I whisper what is written upon it? 
 . . . ? ... The first few jotted notes of the glorious 
 song which rang through the Empire like a bugle-call, 
 and hurled it at Nicaragua. 
 Hark and attend my Chosen : Ye have heard me Mtm. Can 
 
 ,**; preposition begin 
 
 V* t e t le wit^a capital* 
 
 Out of the East, 
 
 with an introduction? 
 I came and the nations trembled: I bore the Mark Mtm. Alter- 
 
 glory about me? 
 of the Beast, 
 
 And I made ye a hundred books yea ! even an hundred Good. 
 
 and one 
 
 Of all the labours of men that labour under the sun, 
 And I clad me about with Terrors: Yea! I covered Second "yea"? 
 
 ., ... , . Uncle sayi "de- 
 
 my paths with dread, lete." 
 
 And the women-folk were astonied at the horrible 
 things I said. 
 
 And the men of the Island Race were some of them 
 
 woundily bored, 
 But the greater part of them paid me well : and I 
 
 praised the Lord, 
 
 7
 
 9 8 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 And when as the spirit was fall I sniggered and 
 
 lapped and swore 
 * As ever did men before me, men of the days of yore. 
 
 ore 
 is commonplace. ( ?) 
 
 LoUV ^lor" I When-as the spirit was full But when it was rare and 
 
 Provisional : tec low 
 
 Emily lso about j copitd &,. p sa lms at random; and lo f it was even 
 so! 
 
 (Fill in here: 
 
 Publisher 
 
 Then up and arose the Daughter-Nations : Up and 
 arose 
 
 Uncle says that Fearless men reciting me fearlessly through the nose, 
 repetition is 
 
 Greek. Mim. Some of them Presbyterian, and some of them Jews, 
 
 and some 
 
 Change. Of the Latter-Day Church, King Solomon's sect 
 
 which is awfully rum. 
 (Stuck.) 
 . . . the lot of it ... Anglo-Saxons . . . shout it aloud 
 
 ... at it again? . . . back the crowd? 
 (Fill in. Mem. must be consecutive) 
 
 Things are not as they were (common-place) 
 ...... (delete) 
 
 Things are not as they . . . Things and the Change . . . 
 Things and . . . things . . . 
 
 (Leave this to fill in) 
 
 * * 
 
 And some of ye stand at a wicket, and they are the 
 
 luckier men, 
 
 But others field afar on a field, and ever and then, 
 Whenas. Good. When-as the over is over, they cross to the other side, 
 " / Horeb~.'* J *' ^ ^ weary thing to the flesh and a wounding thing to 
 
 the pride. 
 to jo 5 , *" Y * And Cabinet Ministers play at a game ye should all 
 
 avoid, 
 It is played with youngling baits and a pellet of 
 
 celluloid, 
 
 And a little net on a table, and is known as the named 
 
 (better)
 
 THE INTERVIEW 99 
 
 PING and the PONG. 
 
 England, Daughter of Sion, why do you do this wrong ? 
 And some, like witherless Frenchmen, circle around in 
 
 rings, 
 England, Daughter of Sion, why do you do these 
 
 things ? 
 Why do you . . . 
 
 (Mem. after Uncle to-morrow. Billy's: refuse 
 terms.) 
 
 These are the chance lines as they came the dis- 
 jointed words everything just as He wrote them 
 down. 
 
 Reader or whatever you be was that a small 
 reward ? Are you willing now to say that Interviewing 
 has no wages of its own? Will you sneer at it as unfit 
 to take its place in your art ? Truly, ' ' Better is he that 
 humbleth himself than a pillar of brass, and a meek 
 heart than many fastenings."
 
 VI 
 THE PERSONAL PAR 
 
 CLOSELY connected with the Interview, and forming a 
 natural sequel to any treatise upon that Exercise, is the 
 Personal Par. It contains, as it were, al 1 the qualities 
 of the Interview condensed into the smallest possible 
 space ; it advertises the subject, instructs the reader, and 
 is a yet sharper trial of the young writer's character. 
 
 The homely advice given in the preceding section, 
 where mention was made of "pride" and of "pockets," 
 applies with far more force to the Personal Par. With 
 the Interview, it is well to mask one's name; with the 
 Personal Par, it is absolutely necessary to conceal it. 
 The danger the author runs is an attraction to Mrs. 
 Railston, who in her book strongly advises this form of 
 sport she herself does Bess in All About Them. On 
 the other hand, Lieut. -Colonel Lory says, in his 
 Journalist's Vade-mecum (p. 63): "A Personal Par 
 should never be penned by the Aspirant to Literary 
 honours. Undetected, it renders life a burden of sus- 
 pense; detected, it spells ruin."* He quotes twenty- 
 five well-known peers and financiers who rose by steadily 
 refusing to do this kind of work during their period of 
 probation on the press. 
 
 The present guide, which is final, will run to no such 
 
 * Let the student note, by way of warning, and avoid this 
 officer's use of ready-made phrases. 
 
 100
 
 THE PERSONAL PAR 101 
 
 extremes. Secrecy is indeed essential ; yet there are 
 three excellent reasons for writing Personal Pars, at 
 least in early youth. 
 
 (1) The Personal Par is the easiest to produce of all 
 forms of literature. Any man or woman, famous or 
 infamous for any reason, is a subject ready to hand, 
 and to these may be added all persons whatsoever living, 
 dead, or imaginary ; and anything whatever may be said 
 about them. Editors, in their honest dislike of giving 
 pain, encourage the inane, and hence more facile, form 
 of praise. Moreover, it takes but a moment to write, 
 and demands no recourse to books of reference. 
 
 (2) The Personal Par can always be placed if not 
 in England, then in America. Though written in any 
 odd moments of one's leisure time, it will always repre- 
 sent money ; and the whole of the period from July to 
 October, when ordinary work is very slack, can be kept 
 going from the stock one has by one. 
 
 (3) It has a high economic value, not only in the price 
 paid for it, but indirectly, as an advertisement. This is 
 a point which Lieut. -Colonel Lory and Mrs. Railston 
 both overlook. 
 
 A short specimen, written in August, 1885, at the 
 very beginning of the movement, by my friend, Mrs. 
 Cowley (the Folk-Lorist, not the Poetess), for the 
 Gazette, will make these three points clear : 
 
 " The capture of that rare bird, the Cross-tailed 
 Eagle, which is cabled from St. Fandango's, recalls 
 the fact that the famous Picture "Tiny Tots" was 
 formerly in the possession of the present Governor of 
 that island. The picture is put up to auction by Messrs. 
 Philpots next Saturday, and, judging by the public
 
 102 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 attendance at their galleries during the last fortnight, 
 the bidding should be brisk." 
 
 There is no such bird as the Cross-tailed Eagle, nor 
 any such person as the Governor of St. Fandango's, 
 nor indeed is there even any such island. Yet Mrs. 
 Cowley was paid 55. by the Gazette for her little bit of 
 research; it was copied into most of the papers, with 
 acknowledgment, and she got a commission from Messrs. 
 Philpots. The former owner of "Tiny Tots" (Mr. 
 Gale of Kew, a wealthy man) wrote a long and inter- 
 esting letter explaining that some error had been made, 
 and that not he, but his wife's father, had been an 
 Inspector* (not Governor) in St. Vincent's. He begged 
 the writer to call on him her call was the origin of a 
 life-long friendship, and Mrs. Cowley was mentioned in 
 his will. 
 
 I must detain the student no longer with what is, 
 after all, a very small corner of our art, but conclude 
 with a few carefully chosen examples before proceeding 
 to the next section on Topographical Essays. 
 
 EXAMPLES 
 Wit and Wisdom of the Upper Classes 
 
 Her Royal Highness the Hereditary Grand Duchess 
 of Solothurn was driving one day down Pall Mall when 
 she observed a poor pickpocket plying his precarious 
 trade. Stopping the carriage immediately, she asked 
 him gently what she could do for him. He was dumb- 
 founded for a reply, and, withdrawing his hand from 
 the coat-tail of an elderly major, managed to mumble 
 
 * Of what?
 
 THE PERSONAL PAR 103 
 
 out that he was a widower with a wife and six children 
 who were out of work and refused to support him, 
 though earning excellent wages. This reasoning so 
 touched the Princess, that she immediately gave him a 
 place as boot-black in the Royal Palace of Kensington. 
 Discharged from this position for having prosecuted 
 H.R.H. for six months' arrears of wages, he set up as 
 a publican at the " Sieve and Pannier " at Wimbledon, 
 a licence of some ten thousand pounds in value, and a 
 standing example of the good fortune that attends thrift 
 
 and industry. 
 
 * * * 
 
 It is not generally known that the late Lord Grum- 
 bletooth rose from the ranks. His lordship was a 
 singularly reticent man, and the matter is still shrouded 
 in obscurity. He was, however, a politician in the best 
 sense of the word, and owed his advancement to the 
 virtues that have made England famous. The collection 
 of domestic china at Grumbletooth House will vie with 
 any other collection at any similar house in the kingdom. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Dr. Kedge, whose death was recently announced in 
 the papers, was the son of no less a personage than 
 Mr. Kedge, of the Old Hall, Eybridge. It is hardly 
 fair to call him a self-made man, for his father paid a 
 considerable sum both for his education and for the 
 settlement of his debts on leaving the University. But 
 he was a bright-eyed, pleasant host, and will long be 
 regretted in the journalistic world. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Lady Gumm's kindness of heart is well known. She 
 lately presented a beggar with a shilling, and then dis-
 
 io 4 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 covered that she had not the wherewithal to pay her fare 
 home from Queen's Gate to 276, Park Lane (her lady- 
 ship's town house). Without a moment's hesitation she 
 t>orrowed eighteen pence of the grateful mendicant, a 
 circumstance that easily explains the persecution of 
 which she has lately been tht victim. 
 
 # * * 
 
 Lord Harmbury was lately discovered on the top of a 
 bus by an acquaintance who taxed him with the mis- 
 adventure. " I would rather be caught on a bus than 
 in a trap," said the witty peer. The mot has had some 
 success in London Society. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Mr. Mulhausen, the M.F.H. of the North Downshire 
 Hunt, has recently written an article on " Falconry" 
 for the Angler's World. The style of the " brochure " 
 shows a great advance in " technique," and cannot fail 
 to give a permanent value to his opinion on Athletics, 
 Gentleman-farming, and all other manly sports and 
 pastimes. Mr. Mulhausen is, by the way, a recently- 
 elected member of the Rock-climbers' Club, and is 
 devoted to Baccarat. 
 
 There is no truth in the rumour that Miss Finn-Coul, 
 daughter of Colonel Wantage-Brown, was about to 
 marry her father's second wife's son by an earlier 
 marriage, Mr. James Grindle-Torby. The Colonel is 
 a strong Churchman, and disapproves of such unions 
 between close relatives; moreover, as C.O., he has for- 
 bidden the young lieutenant (for such is his rank) to
 
 THE PERSONAL PAR 105 
 
 leave the barracks for a fortnight, a very unusual pro- 
 ceeding in the Hussars. 
 
 Lady Sophia Van Huren is famous for her repartee. 
 In passing through Grosvenor Gate an Irish beggar was 
 heard to hope that she would die the black death of 
 Machushla Shawn. A sharp reply passed her lips, and 
 it is a thousand pities that no one exactly caught its 
 tenor ; it was certainly a gem. 
 
 * * * 
 
 It is well known that the Bishop of Pontygarry has 
 no sympathy with the extreme party in the Church. 
 Only the other day he was so incensed at a service held 
 in Ribble-cum-Taut, that he fought the officiating clergy- 
 man for half an hour in his own garden, and extorted a 
 complete apology. He also forbad anyone in the village 
 ever to go to Church again, and himself attended the 
 Methodist Chapel on the ensuing Sunday. Had we a 
 few more prelates of the same mettle things would be in 
 a very different condition.
 
 VII 
 THE TOPOGRAPHICAL ARTICLE 
 
 THE Topographical Article is so familiar as to need but 
 little introduction. . . . Personally, I do not recom- 
 mend it; it involves a considerable labour; alone, of 
 all forms of historical writing, it demands accuracy; 
 alone, it is invariably unpaid. 
 
 Nevertheless, there are special occasions when it will 
 be advisable to attempt it; as in order to please an 
 aged and wealthy relative ; in order to strike up a chance 
 acquaintance with a great Family ; in order to advertise 
 land that is for sale ; in order to prevent the sale, or to 
 lower the price (in these two last cases it is usual to 
 demand a small fee from the parties interested); in 
 order to vent a just anger ; in order to repay a debt ; in 
 order to introduce a " special " advertisement for some 
 manure or other; and so forth. Most men can recall 
 some individual accident when a training in Topo- 
 graphical Writing would have been of value to them. 
 
 There even arise, though very rarely, conditions under 
 which this kind of writing is positively ordered. Thus, 
 when the Editor of the Evening Mercury changed his 
 politics for money on the i7th of September, 1899, all 
 that part of his staff who were unable to drop their 
 outworn shibboleths were put on to writing up various 
 parts of London in the legal interval preceding their 
 dismissal, and a very good job they made of it. 
 
 106
 
 THE TOPOGRAPHICAL ARTICLE 107 
 
 Never, perhaps, were the five rules governing the art 
 more thoroughly adhered to. A land-owning family was 
 introduced into each; living persons were treated with 
 courtesy and affection ; a tone of regret was used at the 
 opening of each ; each closed with a phrase of passionate 
 patriotism; and each was carefully run parallel to the 
 course of English History in general ; and the proper 
 praise and blame allotted to this name and that, accord- 
 ing to its present standing with the more ignorant of the 
 general public.* 
 
 It was in this series (afterwards issued in Book form 
 under the title, London ! My London) that the following 
 article which I can put forward as an excellent model 
 was the contribution of my friend, Mr. James Bayley. 
 It may interest the young reader (if he be as yet un- 
 familiar with our great London names) to know that 
 under the pseudonym of "Cringle" is concealed the 
 family of Holt, whose present head is, of course, the 
 Duke of Sheffield. 
 
 DISAPPEARING LONDON : MANNING 
 GREEN 
 
 At a moment when a whole district of the metropolis 
 is compulsorily passing into the hands of a soulless 
 corporation, it is intolerable that the proprietors of land 
 in that district should receive no compensation for the 
 historical importance of their estates. Manning Green, 
 which will soon be replaced by the roar and bustle or 
 
 * The student will find a list of Historical Personages to 
 praise and blame carefully printed in two colours at the end 
 of Williams' Journalist's History of England.
 
 io8 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 bustle and confusion, whichever you like of a great 
 railway station, is one of those centres whence the great 
 empire-builders of our race proceeded in past times. 
 
 For many centuries it was a bare, bleak spot, such as 
 our England could boast by the thousand in the rude 
 but heroic days when the marvellous fortunes of the 
 Anglo-Saxon race were preparing in the slow designs of 
 Providence. For perhaps a generation it was one of 
 those suburban villages that are said by a contemporary 
 poet to " nestle in their trees." Doubtless it sent forth 
 in the sixties many brave lads to fight for the liberties 
 of Europe in Italy or Denmark, but their humble record 
 has perished. Such a thought recalls the fine lines 
 of Gray : 
 
 " Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest; 
 Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood." 
 
 Twenty to twenty-five years ago the advancing tide of 
 the capital of the world swept round this little outlying 
 place ; it was submerged, and soon made part of greater 
 London. 
 
 Relics are still to be discovered of the period when 
 Manning Green had something rural about it, as High- 
 gate and South Croydon have now. Thus " The Jolly 
 Drover " (whose licence was recently refused because it 
 was not a tied house) recalls the great sheep-droves that 
 once passed through the village from the north. It is 
 now rare indeed to meet with a countryman driving his 
 flock to market through the streets of London, though 
 the sight is not absolutely unknown. The present writer 
 was once stopped in the early morning by a herd of 
 oxen south of Westminster Bridge, and what may seem 
 more remarkable he has frequently seen wild animals in
 
 THE TOPOGRAPHICAL ARTICLE 109 
 
 the charge of negroes pass through Soho on their way to 
 the Hippodrome. It is as Tennyson says : 
 
 " The old order changes, giving place to the new," 
 until at last 
 
 " Beyond these voices there is peace." 
 
 Another relic of the old village of Manning Green is 
 the Court Baron, which is still held (how few Londoners 
 know this !) once a year, for the purpose of providing a 
 small but regular income to a relative of the Lord 
 Chancellor. This Court was probably not held before 
 the year 1895, but it is none the less of extreme interest 
 to antiquarians. 
 
 The first mention of Manning Green in history is in a 
 letter to Edward Lord Cringle, the pioneer and ally of 
 the beneficent reforms that remain inseparably associated 
 with the name of the eighth Henry. This letter is 
 written from prison by one Henry Turnbull, a yeoman, 
 and contains these phrases : 
 
 " For that very certainly, my good Lord, I never did this 
 thing, no, nor met the Friar nor had any dealing with him. 
 And whatever I did that they say is treason I did it being 
 a simple man, as following the Mass, which I know is welcome 
 to the King's Majesty, and not knowing who it was that sang 
 it, no, nor speaking to him after, as God knows. And, my 
 dear Lord, I have had conveyed to you, as you know, my land 
 of Horton with the Grey Farm and the mere called Foul Marsh 
 or Manning, having neither son nor any other but my own 
 life only, and for that willingly would I give you this land, 
 and so I have done ; and, my good Lord, speak for me at 
 Court in this matter, remembering my gift of the land. . . ." 
 
 This Turnbull was afterwards executed for treason at 
 Tyburn. There is still a Turnbull in the parish, but as
 
 no THE AFTERMATH 
 
 his father's name was Weissenstein he is very unlikely 
 to have any connection with the original family of 
 yeomen. 
 
 The land (if land it could then be called) did not, 
 oddly enough, remain long in the Cringle family. It 
 was sold by Lord Edward to the Carmelites, and on the 
 dissolution of that order was returned by the grateful 
 monarch to its original owner. We next find "Man- 
 ning" or " Foul Marsh" drained during that period 
 of active beneficence on the part of the great landlords 
 which marked the seventeenth century. We are 
 acquainted of this fact in our agricultural history by 
 an action recorded in 1631, where it appears that one 
 Nicholas Hedon had gone to shoot snipe, as had been 
 once of common right in the manor, and had so tres- 
 passed upon land "now drained at his lordship's 
 charges, and by him enclosed." Hedon lost both ears, 
 and was pilloried. 
 
 Manning is probably alluded to also in a strong 
 protest of the old Liberal blood* against ship-money, 
 to which exaction it contributed is. 4d. The sum need 
 not excite ridicule, as it represents quite 45. of our 
 present currency. The vigorous protest of the family 
 against this extortion is one of the finest examples of 
 our sterling English spirit on the eve of the Civil War. 
 The money was, however, paid. 
 
 In the troubles of the Civil Wars Manning (now no 
 longer a marsh, but a green) was sold to John Grayling, 
 but the deed of conveyance being protested at the 
 Restoration, it was restored to its original owners at 
 the intruder's charge by an action of Novel Disseizin. 
 * The Holts are still Liberal-Unionists.
 
 THE TOPOGRAPHICAL ARTICLE in 
 
 After Monmouth's rebellion, Manning was in danger of 
 suffering confiscation, and was hurriedly sold to a chance 
 agent (William Greaves) at so low a price as to refute 
 for ever all insinuations of rapacity upon the part of its 
 now ducal owners. It was happily restored by a grate- 
 ful nation as a free gift after the glorious Revolution 
 of 1688, and the agent, who had only acquired it by 
 taking advantage of the recent troubles, was very 
 properly punished. King William congratulated the 
 family in a famous epigram, which a natural ignorance 
 of the Taal forbids us to transcribe. 
 
 In 1718, Manning being still pasture of a somewhat 
 spongy nature (Guy, in his report, calls it "soggy and 
 poor land, reedy, and fit for little "), there was a rumour 
 that the New River canal would pass through it, and it 
 was sold to Jonathan Hemp. The New River was 
 proved, however, in the pleadings before both Houses 
 of Parliament, to have no necessity for this canal, and 
 Hemp was compelled (as it was a mere speculation on 
 his part) to sell it back again to its distinguished owner 
 at a merely nominal price. 
 
 Nothing further can be traced with regard to Manning 
 Green (as it was now commonly called) till the report 
 in 1780 that coal had been found beneath it. Such a 
 deposit so near the metropolis naturally attracted the 
 attention of merchants, and the Family sold the place 
 for the last time to a merchant of the name of Hogg 
 for ^20,000. 
 
 The report proved false; yet, oddly enough, it was 
 the beginning of Mr. Hogg's prosperity. 
 
 We have no space to dwell on this interesting character. 
 " Hogg's Trustees " are an ecclesiastical household word
 
 iia THE AFTERMATH 
 
 in our principal watering-places, and the " Hogg Insti- 
 tute " at Brighton is a monument of Christian endeavour. 
 He was a shrewd bargainer, a just man, and upon his 
 mantelpieces were to be discovered ornaments in ala- 
 baster representing Joshua and Richard Cosur de Lion. 
 
 The growth of the metropolis entered largely into 
 Mr. Hogg's enlightened prevision of the future, and 
 he obtained promises from a large number of people to 
 build houses upon his land, which houses should, after 
 a term of years, become his (Hogg's) property, and 
 cease to belong to those who had paid to put them up. 
 How Mr. Hogg managed to obtain such promises is still 
 shrouded in mystery, but the universal prevalence of 
 the system to-day in modern England would surely 
 prove that there is something in our Imperial race which 
 makes this form of charity an element of our power. 
 
 Mr. Hogg's only daughter married Sir John Moss, 
 Lord Mayor; and Mr. Moss, the son, was the father 
 of the present Lord Hemelthorpe. Thus something 
 romantic still clings to poor Manning Green, of which 
 Lord Hemelthorpe was, until his recent bankruptcy, the 
 proprietor. 
 
 There is little more to be said about Manning Green. 
 The Ebenezer Chapel has a history of its own, written 
 by the Rev. Napoleon Plaything, son of Mr. Honey Q. 
 Plaything, of Bismark, Pa. The success of the boys' 
 club has been detailed in God's London, by Mr. Zitali, 
 of the "Mission to the Latin Races." The book is 
 well worth buying, if only for this one essay, written, 
 as it is, by a brand saved from the burning. Mr. Zitali 
 was for a long time in the employ of Messrs. Mariana, 
 the restaurant keepers, and no one is better fitted to
 
 THE TOPOGRAPHICAL ARTICLE 113 
 
 deal strenuously with the awful problems of our great 
 cities. 
 
 Manning Green is about to disappear, and all its 
 wonderful associations will become (in the words of 
 Swinburne) 
 
 " Smoke, or the smoke of a smoke." 
 
 But until it disappears, and until its purchase price 
 is finally fixed by the committee, its historical associa- 
 tions will still remain dear to those who (like the present 
 writer) are interested in this corner of the Motherland. 
 That men of our blood, and men speaking our tongue 
 nay, that those neither of our blood, nor speaking our 
 tongue, but devoted to a common empire will remember 
 Manning Green when the sale is effected, is the pas- 
 sionate and heartfelt prayer of 
 
 JAMES BAYLEY.
 
 VIII 
 
 ON EDITING 
 
 1 COME now to that part of my subject where pure 
 literature is of less moment than organisation and the 
 power of arrangement ; and the last two divisions of my 
 great task concern work which has been written by 
 others, and with which the journalist has to deal in the 
 capacity of manager rather than that of author. These 
 are, a few notes upon editing, and some further remarks 
 upon Revelations, that is, unexpected and more or less 
 secret political announcements. 
 
 I deal here first with editing, by which I do not mean 
 the management of a whole newspaper for this has no 
 connection whatever with the art of letters but the 
 election, arrangement, and annotating of work produced 
 by another hand, and entrusted to the journalist for 
 publication in his columns. The work is far easier than 
 might appear at first sight. 
 
 The first rule in connection with it is to offend as 
 little as possible, and especially to spare the living. 
 
 The second rule is to cut down the matter to fit the 
 space at your disposal. With the exception of a number 
 of MSS. so small that they may be neglected in the 
 calculation, it does not matter in the least what you cut 
 out, so long as you remember that the parts remaining 
 must make sense, and so long as you make this second 
 rule fit in with the exigencies of the first. 
 
 "4
 
 ON EDITING 115 
 
 As for annotation, it is the easiest tiling in the world 
 True to the general principle which governs all good 
 journalism, that the giving of pleasure should always be 
 preferred to the giving of pain, let your annotations 
 pleasantly recall to the reader his own stock of know- 
 ledge, let them be as obvious as possible, and let him 
 not learn too much from your research. This method 
 has the additional advantage, that it also saves you an 
 infinity of trouble. 
 
 The matter is really not so elaborate as to need any 
 further comment. I will proceed at once to my example, 
 prefacing it only with the shortest explanatory state- 
 ment, which will show how thoroughly it illustrates the 
 rules I have just enunciated. 
 
 The wife of one of the principal candidates for 
 Parliament in our part of the country begged Dr. 
 Caliban to publish a simple, chatty diary, which her 
 sister (who was married to a neighbouring squire) had 
 kept during some years. Dr. Caliban was too courteous 
 to refuse, and had too profound an acquaintance with 
 the rural character to despise this kind of copy. On the 
 other hand, he was compelled to point out that he could 
 not allow the series to run through more than six months, 
 and that he should, therefore, be compelled to cut it 
 down at his discretion. Full leave was given him, and 
 I do not think any man could have done the work better. 
 
 Thus the lady's husband, though a good Englishman 
 in every other way (an indulgent landlord and a sterling 
 patriot), was German by birth and language. Here was 
 a truth upon which it would have been uncharitable and 
 useless to insist a truth which it vras impossible to 
 conceal, but which it was easy to glide over; and Dr.
 
 u6 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 Caliban, as the student will see in a moment, glode over 
 it with the lightest of feet. 
 
 Again, a very terrible tragedy had taken place in the 
 fiurpham family, and is naturally alluded to by their 
 near neighbour. It was impossible to cut out all mention 
 of this unhappy thing, without destroying the diary ; 
 but in Dr. Caliban's edition of the MS., the whole is 
 left as vague as may be. 
 
 The particular part which I have chosen for a model 
 I think the most admirable piece of editing I know 
 is from that week of the diary which concerns the out- 
 break of the recent difficulty with France, a difficulty 
 luckily immediately arranged, after scarcely a shot had 
 been fired, by the mutual assent of the two nations and 
 (as it is whispered) by the direct intervention of High 
 Authority. 
 
 The motto which Dr. Caliban chose for the whole 
 series (called, by the way, " Leaves from a Country 
 Diary "), is a fine sentence from the works of Mr. 
 Bagehot. 
 
 LEAVES FROM A COUNTRY DIARY 
 
 "An aristocratic body firmly rooted in the national soil it 
 not only the -permanent guarantee of the security of the State, 
 but resembles, as it were, a man better instructed than his 
 fellows more -prom-pi, possessed of ample means, and yet 
 entrusted with -power; a man moreover who nevef dies." 
 
 February 2nd, 19 . To-day is the Purification. 
 The lawn looked lovely under its veil of snow, and the 
 vicar came in to lunch. We did not discuss the question 
 of the service, because I know that Reuben disapproves 
 of it. The vicar told me that Mrs. Burpham is in
 
 ON EDITING 117 
 
 dreadful trouble. It seems that the Bank at Moles- 
 worth refused to cash Algernon's cheque, and that this 
 led Sir Henry Murling to make investigations about the 
 Chattington affair, so that he had to be asked to resign 
 his commission. To be sure it is only in the Militia, but 
 if it all comes out, it will be terrible for the Monsons. 
 They have already had to dismiss two servants on these 
 grounds. Jane has a sore throat, and I made her gargle 
 some turpentine and oil ; Ali Baba's* hock is still sore. 
 I do hope I shall keep my old servants, it is an unwel- 
 come thing to dismiss them in their old age and the 
 house is never the same again. They meet to-morrow at 
 Gumpton corner, but not if this weather holds. 
 
 February yd, 19 . It is thawing. There are 
 marks of boots across the lawn on what is left of the 
 snow, and I am afraid some one must have gone across 
 it. I wish Reuben would come back. Called at Mrs. 
 Burpham's, who is in dreadful trouble. Algernon has 
 gone up to town to see his solicitor. Poor Mrs. Burpham 
 was crying ; she is so proud of her boy. He says it will 
 be all right. They are very bitter against the Bank, and 
 Sir Henry, and the regiment, and the Monsons. I fear 
 they may quarrel with Binston Parkf also. Mrs. 
 Burpham was so curious about them ; Jane is no better. 
 
 February $th, 19 . Reuben came home suddenly 
 by the 2.40 with Mr. Ehrenbreitstein and Lord Tenter- 
 
 * The pet name of the white pony. The name is taken from 
 the Arabiatf Nights. 
 
 fr The use of the name of an estate in the place of the name 
 of its owner or owners is very common with the territorial 
 class in pur countrysides. Thus, people will say, " I have 
 been calling at the Laurels," or " I dined with the Monkey 
 Tree " ; meaning, " I have been calling upon Mrs. So-and-So," 
 or, " I have been dining with Sir Charles Gibbs."
 
 n8 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 worth. He asked me to put Mr. Ehrenbreitstein in the 
 Blue room and Lord Tenterworth in the Parrot room 
 opposite the broom and pail place, where Aunt Marjory 
 used to sleep. I shall have to clear the clothes out of 
 the drawers. Just before dinner Mr. Bischoffen came 
 in from the station. Reuben told me he had asked him. 
 I wish he would give me longer notice. He brought a 
 secretary with him who cannot talk English. I think he 
 must be a Spaniard he is so dark. Jane can hardly 
 speak, her throat is so bad ; I told her she might stay in 
 bed to-morrow till nine. 
 
 February $th, 19 . Mrs. Burpham is certainly in 
 dreadful trouble. She tells me Algernon has written 
 from St. Malo saying it will be all right. It was very 
 foolish and imprudent of him to go over there just now 
 with all this trouble on with France. If only he had 
 stayed at home (Mrs. Burpham says) she would not have 
 minded so much, but she is afraid of his getting killed. 
 It seems they are so savage at St. Malo.* Only the 
 other day an English lady had a stone thrown in her 
 direction in the street. Mr. Bischoffen's secretary is not 
 a Spaniard ; I think he is a Pole ; his name is Brahms. 
 There was a difficulty about the asparagus last night. 
 It seems the Germans do not eat it with their fingers. 
 Reuben said I ought to have got little silver pincers for 
 it. I remember seeing them in his father's house, but 
 papa said they were very vulgar. Then Reuben used to 
 apologise for them, and say that his people were old- 
 fashioned, which was nonsense, of course. I reminded 
 Reuben of this, and he said, " Ach ! Gott !" and I had 
 to leave the room. Ali Bnba is all right ; he took a piece 
 * A seaport in Brittany.
 
 ON EDITING 119 
 
 of sugar from my hand ; but when I felt his hock he 
 kicked Jones severely. I fear Jones is really injured, 
 and I have sent for Dr. Minton and for the veterinary 
 surgeon. 
 
 February 6th, 19 . Dr. Minton dined here last 
 night before going to set Jones' leg, and I gave the 
 veterinary surgeon supper in the old schoolroom. I am 
 afraid Dr. Minton took too much wine, for he quarrelled 
 with Mr. Ehrenbreitstein and Mr. Bischoffen about the 
 danger of war with France. He said they had no right 
 to speak, and got quite excited. Called again on Mrs. 
 Burpham, and only appreciated fully to-day in what sad 
 trouble she is. Algernon has telegraphed from Paris 
 saying it will be all right. Meanwhile she has certainly 
 quarrelled with Binston Park, and she even spoke bitterly 
 against the Duke, so that means another family gone 
 for the Duke is very proud. I see in the Standard that 
 our Ambassador has delivered an ultimatum, and that 
 the French are doing all they can to shirk war. That is 
 what Mr. Bischoffen and Reuben said they would do, 
 but they must be taught a lesson. Newfoundlands have 
 fallen, but Reuben says they must rise after the war. I 
 do hope they will. The dear Bishop called. He says 
 this war is a judgment on the French. Jane is much 
 better, and can talk quite clearly, and AH Baba is almost 
 well. Also it has thawed now completely, and they can 
 meet on Saturday as usual, so things are looking up all 
 round. 
 
 February ftk, 19 . Freddie goes to the Isle of 
 Wight with the Lambtonshire Regiment, and Mrs. 
 Burpham and the Bishop are both delighted, because 
 it will bring him and Hepworth together. It would be
 
 izo THE AFTERMATH 
 
 such a solace to poor Mrs. Burpham if Freddie could 
 see active service and get promotion; it would help to 
 wipe out Algernon's disgrace, for I fear there is now no 
 doubt of it, though he says it is all right in his last letter, 
 which is from Marseilles. Letters still come through 
 from France, because our Ambassador said that if any 
 tricks were played with them he would hold the French 
 Government personally responsible, and so cowed them. 
 The Bishop has gone to London with his family. 
 
 February 8M, 19 . The Standard has a large map 
 of the North of France, where the righting will be. It 
 is very interesting. Reuben and his friends have gone 
 up to town again. I saw the Reserves marching through 
 Molesworth to-day; they are going to garrison Ports- 
 mouth.* The afternoon post did not come in. Reuben 
 said he would telegraph, but I have not got any message. 
 The 12.40 train was an hour late, so I suppose every- 
 thing is upset by the war. Maria will have to come 
 home by Bale, and I do so dread the passage from 
 Ostend for her; even the hour from Calais to Dover is 
 more than she can bear. The vicar says that our 
 Government will force the French to keep the Dover- 
 Calais route open for civilians. He says it would be 
 against the practice of civilised warfare to close it, and 
 if that were done we should lay waste the whole country ; 
 but I fear he does not know much about the legal aspect 
 of the thing : it is his heart, not his head that speaks. 
 It is dreadful to think what I shall do with Mademoiselle t 
 when she comes home with Maria. One can't blame her 
 
 * A large military port and dockyard on the coast of Hamp- 
 shire. 
 
 t The generic term among the wealthy for French menials 
 of the weaker sex.
 
 ON EDITING 121 
 
 when one thinks that it is her own country that is going 
 to be harried and her own brothers brought here as 
 prisoners ; but it will be very difficult all the same. The 
 man who was killed at Bigley races was not a Frenchman 
 after all : the crowd only thought he was because he had 
 blacked his face like a negro. It seems that Sir Henry 
 was very hard in court, and said that the ringleaders 
 were lucky not to be indicted for manslaughter. It has 
 frozen again, and it is very slippery in the drive. They 
 are having fireworks or something at Portsmouth, to 
 judge by the sound. Jones told Jane he thought there 
 was a bonfire as well, because he could see a glare now 
 and then in the sky from the window in his room. His 
 leg is setting nicely.
 
 IX 
 ON REVELATIONS 
 
 REVELATIONS, again, as we found to be the case with 
 editing, do not properly constitute a department of the 
 art of letters. Though they are of far more importance 
 than any other branch of contemporary journalism, yet 
 it is impossible to compare their publication to a creative 
 act of pure literature. 
 
 It may be urged that such Revelations as are written 
 in the office of the newspaper publishing them are not 
 only literature, but literature of a very high order. 
 They are, on the face of it, extremely difficult to com- 
 pose. If they are to have any chance of deceiving the 
 public, the writer must thoroughly know the world which 
 he counterfeits; he must be able to copy its literary style, 
 its air, its errors. It is even sometimes necessary for 
 him to attempt the exquisitely subtle art of forgery. 
 
 The objection is well found ; but it is not of this kind 
 of Revelation that I propose to speak. It belongs to the 
 higher branches of our art, and is quite unsuited to a 
 little elementary manual. 
 
 The Revelation I speak of here is the ordinary type 
 of private communication, domestic treason, or accidental 
 discovery, dealing, as a rule, with public affairs, and 
 brought to the office spontaneously by servants, colonial 
 adventurers, or ministers of religion. 
 
 122
 
 ON REVELATIONS 123 
 
 Nine Revelations out of ten are of this kind ; and the 
 young journalist who may desire to rise in his great 
 calling must make himself thoroughly familiar with the 
 whole process by which they are to be procured and 
 published. 
 
 A small amount of additional matter has, indeed, 
 sometimes to be furnished, but it is almost insignificant, 
 and is, moreover, of so conventional a nature, that it 
 need not trouble us for a moment. Some such phrase as 
 "We have received the following communication from 
 a source upon which we place the firmest reliance," will 
 do very well to open with, and at the end : " We shall 
 be interested to see what reply can be given to the 
 above," is a very useful formula. Thus the words " To 
 be continued," added at the end are often highly lucra- 
 tive. They were used by the Courrier des Prises (a first- 
 class authority on such matters), when it recently pub- 
 lished a number of private letters, written (alas !) in the 
 English tongue, and concerning the noblest figure in 
 English politics. 
 
 But though there is little to be done in the way of 
 writing, there is a considerable mental strain involved in 
 judging whether a particular Revelation will suit the 
 proprietor of the newspaper upon which one is employed, 
 and one must not unf requently be prepared to suffer from 
 exhausting terrors for some weeks after its publication. 
 
 Difficult as is the art of testing Revelation, the rules 
 that govern it are few and simple. The Revelator, if a 
 domestic servant, wears a round black bowler hat and a 
 short jacket, and a pair of very good trousers stolen 
 from his master; he will be clean shaven. If an 
 adventurer or minister of religion, he will wear a soft
 
 i2 4 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 felt hat and carry a large muffler round his throat. 
 Either sort walk noiselessly, but the first in a firm, and 
 the second in a shuffling manner. I am far from saying 
 that all who enter newspaper offices under this appear- 
 ance bear with them Revelations even of the mildest 
 kind, but I do say that whenever Revelations come, 
 they are brought by one of these two kinds of men. 
 
 I should add that the Revelator, like the money- 
 lender, the spy, and every other professional man whose 
 livelihood depends upon efficiency, is invariably sober. 
 If any man come to you with a Revelation and seem 
 even a trifle drunk, dismiss him without inquiry, though 
 not before you have admonished him upon his shame 
 and sin, and pointed out the ruin that such indulgence 
 brings upon all save the wealthy. 
 
 When a man arrives who seems at all likely to have a 
 Revelation in his pocket, and who offers it for sale, 
 remember that you have but a few moments in which to 
 make up your mind ; put him into the little room next 
 to the sub-editor, take his MS., tell him you will show 
 it to your chief, and, as you leave him, lock the door 
 softly on the outside. 
 
 The next moment may decide your whole career. You 
 must glance at the Revelation, and judge in that glance 
 whether the public will believe it even for two full 
 hours. The whole difference between a successful and 
 an unsuccessful journalist lies in that power of sudden 
 vision; nor will experience alone achieve it, it must be 
 experience touched with something like genius. 
 
 Libellous matter you can delete. Matter merely false 
 will not be remembered against you ; but if that rare 
 and subtle character which convinces the mob be lacking,
 
 ON REVELATIONS 125 
 
 that is a thing which no one can supply in the time 
 between the Revelator's arrival and the paper's going 
 to press. 
 
 Finally, when you have made your decision, return, 
 unlock, pay, and dismiss. Never pay by cheque. 
 Remember how short is the time at your disposal. Re- 
 member that if your paper does not print a really good 
 Revelation when it is offered, some other paper will. 
 Remember the Times, the Chronicle, and Major Ester- 
 hazy. Remember Mr. Gladstone's resignation. . . . 
 Remember the " Maine." 
 
 A few practical instances will help us to understand 
 these abstract rules. 
 
 Consider, for instance, the following one of the 
 wisest acts of Dr. Caliban's whole life. 
 
 Dr. Caliban was busy writing a leader for the Sunday 
 Englishman upon " Hell or Immortality "; for it was 
 Saturday night, he had just received the weekly papers, 
 and, as he well said, " A strong Sunday paper has 
 this advantage, that it can do what it likes with the 
 weeklies." 
 
 He was, I say, in the midst of Hell or Immortality, 
 when he was interrupted by a note. He opened it, read 
 it, frowned, and passed it to me, saying : 
 
 " What do you make of this?" 
 
 The note ran : 
 
 " I have just been dismissed from the Spectator for sneez- 
 ing in an indelicate manner. I have a Revelation to make 
 with regard to the conduct of that paper. Please see me at 
 once, or it may be too late. I have with me a letter which 
 the Spectator will publish next week. It throws a searching 
 light upon the Editor's mind, and lays bare all the inner 
 workings of the paper. Price 403."
 
 126 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 I told Dr. Caliban that, in my opinion, on the one 
 hand, there might be something in it; while on the 
 other hand, that there might not. 
 
 Dr. Caliban looked at me thoughtfully and said : 
 
 "You think that?" 
 
 He touched an electric bell. As this did not ring, he 
 blew down a tube, and receiving no answer, nor indeed 
 hearing the whistle at the other end, he sent a messenger, 
 who, by some accident, failed to return to the editorial 
 office. Dr. Caliban himself went down and brought up 
 the stranger. He was a young man somewhat cadaver- 
 ous. He repeated what he had said in his note, refused 
 to bargain in any way, received two sovereigns from 
 Dr. Caliban's own purse, sighed deeply, and then with 
 a grave face said : 
 
 "It feels like treason." 
 
 He pressed his lips hard together, conquered himself, 
 and left us with the utmost rapidity. 
 
 When Dr. Caliban and I were alone together, he 
 opened the sealed envelope and read these words, 
 written on a little slip of foolscap : 
 
 " The following letter is accepted by the Spectator, 
 and will be printed next week." 
 
 To this slip was pinned a rather dirty half sheet of 
 notepaper, and on this was the following letter : 
 
 " BALCARRY CASTLE, 
 
 " COUNTY MAYO, 
 
 "Jan. i^th, 1903. 
 " To the Editor of the Spectator. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Among your humorous Irish stories perhaps the 
 following will be worthy to find a place. A dear uncle of
 
 ON REVELATIONS 127 
 
 mine, my father's half-brother, and the husband of the talented 
 E. J. S., was bishop of Killibardine, a prelate of great dis- 
 tinction and considerable humour. 
 
 " I well remember that somewhere in the summer of 1869, 
 his valet having occasion to call unexpectedly upon a relative 
 (butler to the Duke of Kerry), the latter observed ' Indade, 
 an' shure now an' is that yourself, Pat, Pat asthor, at all, at 
 all,' to which the witty fellow answered, with the true Irish 
 twinkle in his eye, ' Was your grandfather a monkey?' 
 " I am very faithfully yours, 
 
 " THE MACFFIN." 
 
 Dr. Caliban was heartily amused by the tale, and 
 told me that he had met the MacFfin some years ago at 
 Lady Marroway's. 
 
 " Nevertheless," he added, " I don't think it would 
 be fair to comment on the little story. ... I had 
 imagined that something graver was toward ..." 
 
 He never spoke again of the small outlay he had 
 made, and I afterwards found that it had been included 
 in the general expenses of the paper. I have never 
 forgotten the lesson, nor since that date have I ever 
 accepted MSS. and paid for it without making myself 
 acquainted to some extent with the subject. A little 
 such foresight upon that occasion would have convinced 
 us that a letter of this kind would never have found a 
 place in a review of the calibre of the Spectator. 
 
 Contrast with Dr. Caliban's wise and patriotic con- 
 duct upon this occasion the wickedness and folly of 
 the Evening German in the matter of the Cabinet 
 Crisis. 
 
 For some time the saner papers, which see the Empire 
 as it is, had been issuing such placards as " He must 
 go," "Make room for Joseph," and other terse and 
 definite indications of a new policy.
 
 iz8 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 The Evening German had for several days headed its 
 leading article, " Why don't he resign?" 
 
 A member of the unscrupulous gang who ever lie in 
 wait for whatever is innocent and enthusiastic called, 
 just before press, upon the editor of the Evening 
 German, passing himself off as the valet of the minister 
 whose resignation was demanded. He produced a small 
 sheet of MSS., and affirmed it to be the exact account 
 of an interview between the minister and his doctor, 
 which interview the valet had overheard, "concealed," 
 as he put it, "behind an arras." He said it would 
 explain the situation thoroughly. He received no less 
 than 25 guineas, and departed. 
 
 Now let the student read what follows, and ask 
 himself by what madness a responsible editor came to 
 print a thing so self -evidently absurd. 
 
 WHY HE DOES NOT RESIGN ! 
 
 We have received upon an unimpeachable authority 
 the verbatim account of an interview between him and 
 his medical adviser, which we think thoroughly explains 
 the present deadlock in Imperial affairs. We are assured 
 upon oath that he was in bed when the doctor called 
 just before noon yesterday, and that the following 
 dialogue took place : 
 
 MINISTER (in bed) : Good-morning, Doctor, I am glad 
 to see you. What can I do for you? ... I mean, I 
 am glad to see you. Pray excuse the inadvertence of 
 my phrase, it is one that I have lately had to use not 
 a little.
 
 ON REVELATIONS 129 
 
 DOCTOR: Pray let me look at your tongue and feel 
 your pulse. So. We are getting along nicely. At 
 what hour were you thinking of rising? 
 
 MINISTER : At twelve, my usual hour. I see no 
 reason for lying in bed, Doctor. (There was a despair- 
 ing tone in this phrase). I am well enough, Doctor, 
 well enough. (Here he gazed sadly out of the window 
 into St. James's Park}. I am a Minister, but I cannot 
 minister to a mind diseased (this rather bitterly). There 
 is nothing the matter with me. 
 
 DOCTOR (cheerily) : My dear Mr. , do not talk 
 
 so. You will be spared many, many useful years, I 
 hope. Indeed, I am sure. There is, as you say, nothing 
 the matter nothing organically the matter; this lassi- 
 tude and nervous exhaustion from which you suffer is a 
 distressing, but a common symptom of mental activity. 
 (Here the doctor dived into a black bag). Let me sound 
 the chest. 
 
 MINISTER: Will it hurt? (This was said rather 
 anxiously). 
 
 DOCTOR : Not a bit of it. I only wish to make 
 assurance doubly sure as we say in the profession. 
 (He put the stethoscope to the chest of the Cabinet 
 Minister). Now draw a deep breath ... no, deeper 
 than that ... a really deep breath. 
 
 MINISTER (gasping) : I can't. 
 
 DOCTOR : Tut, tut. . . . Well, it's all a question of 
 lungs. (Here he moved the stethoscope again). Now 
 sing. 
 
 MINISTER : La ! La ! . . . La ! 
 
 DOCTOR : Nothing wrong with the lungs. Only a 
 little feeble perhaps. Do you take any exercise ? 
 
 9
 
 130 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 MINISTER (wearily): Oh ! yes ... I walk about. 
 ... I used to walk a lot in Ireland. ... I'm not 
 
 like Ch n; he never takes any exercise (bitterly); 
 
 but then, he was brought up differently. (Sadly) Oh 
 Doctor ! I am so tired ! . . . My back aches. 
 
 DOCTOR : Well, Mr. , a little rest will do you 
 
 all the good in the world. You have the Easter recess 
 in which to take a thorough rest. Do not lie in bed all 
 day ; get up about five and drive to your club. What- 
 ever you do, don't write or think, and don't let them 
 worry you with callers. (The Doctor here prepared to 
 leave). 
 
 MINISTER (hopelessly) : Doctor . . . there is some- 
 thing I want to ask you. . . . Can't 1 give it up? 
 
 DOCTOR (firmly) : No, Mr. , no. Upon no 
 
 account. I have told your uncle and your cousins so 
 fifty times. It is a point upon which I must be firm. 
 Politics are a necessity to you all. I would not answer 
 for you if it were not for politics. (Sympathetically) 
 You are none of you strong. 
 
 MINISTER (heaving a deep sigh) : No. I am not 
 strong. . . . Alas ! . . . Chaplin is. But then, 
 Chaplin's built differently. ... I wish you would let 
 me give it up, Doctor. 
 
 DOCTOR (kindly) : No, my dear Mr. , no ! Pray 
 
 put such thoughts out of your head. Every man must 
 occupy his brain and body. Most men discover or 
 choose an occupation, but I have not been a family 
 doctor for thirty years without distinguishing these from 
 such rare organisms as yours and your family's. The 
 House of Commons is the saving of you. (The Doctor 
 here paused, gazed anxiously at Mr. , and said
 
 ON REVELATIONS 131 
 
 slowly) Perhaps, though, you take your work too 
 seriously. It is often so with highly strung men. Do 
 as little as you can. 
 
 MINISTER : I do ... but still it wearies me inex- 
 pressibly. 
 
 DOCTOR : Not so much as writing a book would, or 
 travel, or country walks. 
 
 MINISTER (shaking his head) : I never felt so tired 
 after " It May be True," nor even after " I Greatly 
 Doubt It," as I do now (smiling a little). They 
 sold well. 
 
 DOCTOR : And why ? Because you were engaged in 
 
 politics. Believe me, dear Mr. , without that one 
 
 regular employment you would do little or nothing. It 
 is the balance-wheel that regulates your whole system. 
 Change the rules, and, if you will, limit debate to a 
 minimum, but do not think of giving up the one thing 
 that keeps up your circulation. More men die from 
 inanition than I care to tell you. 
 
 MINISTER : Very well, Doctor . . . (weakly and 
 quietly) it is nearly one; I must sleep . . . Good-bye. 
 
 (The Doctor here went out on tip-toe. The Minister 
 slept. There was a great silence.) 
 
 The Evening German suffered severely, and would 
 have been ruined but for the prompt action of the 
 Frankfort House; and the whole incident shows as 
 clearly as possible what perils surround the most tempt- 
 ing, but the most speculative, sort of journalistic enter- 
 prise. 
 
 The student may tell me and justly that I have 
 offered him none but negative examples. I will com-
 
 132 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 plete his instruction by printing one of the best chosen 
 Revelations I know. 
 
 At the time when a number of letters addressed to 
 Mr. Kruger by various public men were captured, and 
 very rightly published, a certain number were, for 
 reasons of State, suppressed. To Dr. Caliban, reasons 
 of State were no reasons ; he held that no servant of the 
 people had a right to keep the people in ignorance. 
 
 Within a week, a detective in his employ had brought 
 a little sheaf of documents, which, judged by internal 
 evidence alone, were plainly genuine. 
 
 They were printed at once. They have never since 
 been challenged. 
 
 I. 
 
 497, JUBILEE Row, 
 B'HAII, 
 
 9-7-'99- 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 We must respectfully press for the payment of, 
 our account. The terms upon which the ammunition 
 was furnished were strictly cash, and, as you will see 
 by the terms of our letter of the i5th last, we cannot 
 tolerate any further delay. If we do not hear from you 
 relative to same by next mail, we shall be compelled to 
 put the matter into the hands of our solicitors. 
 Yours, etc., 
 
 JOHN STANDFAST, 
 Pro Karl Biffenheimer and Co.
 
 ON REVELATIONS 133 
 
 II. 
 
 Yacht Fleur de Lys. 
 PRINCE NE DAIGNE. 
 
 PALERME, 
 
 SICILE. 
 
 Ci, la feste de ? Assom-ption de la T.S.V. 
 
 (Vieux Style) 
 Van de N.S.J.C. MCM (1900). 
 
 MONSIEUR MON FRERE, 
 
 Nous vous envoyons nos remerciemens pour vos 
 souhaits et vous assurons de la parfaicte amictie qui Hera 
 toujours nos couronnes alliees. Faictes. Continuez. 
 
 Agreez, Monsieur Mon Frere, 1 'assurance de notre 
 consideration Royale la plus distinguee. 
 
 ORLEANS, 
 pour le Roy, 
 
 Chetif. 
 
 Vu, pour copie conforme, 
 
 Le Seneschal, BRU. 
 
 III. 
 
 OFFICES OF THE " SIECLE," PARIS, 
 
 CHEF-LIEU OF THE 
 
 DEPARTMENT OF THE SEINE, FRANCE. 
 6, Thermidor, 108. 
 
 MY GOOD KRUGER, 
 
 It is evidently necessary that I should speak out 
 to you in plain English. I can't go into a long disser- 
 tation, but if you will read the books I send herewith, 
 The Origin of Species, Spencer's Sociology, Grant 
 Allen's Evolution of the Idea of God, etc., you will 
 see why I can't back you up. As for your contemptible
 
 134 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 offer, I cast it back at you with disdain. My name 
 alone should have protected me from such insults. I 
 would have you know that my paper represents French 
 opinion in England, and is now owned by an inter- 
 national company. I am the irremovable editor. 
 Yours with reserve, 
 
 YVES GUYOT. 
 
 P.S. I have been a Cabinet Minister. I send you 
 a circular of our new company. It is a good thing. 
 Push it along. 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE CHAPLAINCY, 
 
 BARFOHD COLLEGE, 
 Old St. Winifred's Day, 1900. 
 
 MY DEAR MR. KRUGER, 
 
 Your position is at once interesting and peculiar, 
 and deserves, as you say, my fullest attention. On the 
 one hand (as you well remark) you believe you have a right 
 to your independence, and that our Government has no 
 moral right to interfere in your domestic affairs. You 
 speak warmly of Mr. Chamberlain and describe him as 
 lacking in common morality or (as we put it) in breeding. 
 I think you are hardly fair. Mr. Chamberlain has his 
 own morality, and in that summing up of all ethics 
 which we in England call "manners," he is indis- 
 tinguishable from other gentlemen of our class. He 
 has had a great deal to bear and he has latterly borne it 
 in silence. It is hardly the part of a generous foe to 
 taunt him now. I fear you look upon these matters a 
 little narrowly and tend to accept one aspect as the
 
 ON REVELATIONS 135 
 
 absolute. The truth is that international morality must 
 always be largely Utilitarian, and in a very interesting 
 little book by Beeker it is even doubted whether what we 
 call "ethics" have any independent existence. This 
 new attitude (which we call "moral anarchism") has 
 lately cast a great hold upon our younger men and is 
 full of interesting possibilities. If you meet Milner you 
 should discuss the point with him. I assure you this 
 school is rapidly ousting the old "comparative-positive" 
 in which he and Curzon were trained. There is a great 
 deal of self-realisation going on also. Lord Mestenvaux 
 (whom you have doubtless met he was a director of the 
 Johannesburg Alcohol Concession) is of my opinion. 
 
 Believe me, my dear Mr. Kruger, with the fullest 
 and warmest sympathy for such of your grievances as 
 may be legitimate, and with the ardent prayer that the 
 result of this deplorable quarrel may turn out to be the 
 best for both parties, 
 
 Your affectionate Friend of old days, 
 
 JOSHIA LAMBKIN, M.A., 
 
 Fellow and Chaplain. 
 
 V. 
 
 (Telegram.} 
 
 Send orders payable Amsterdam immediate, Liberal 
 party clamouring . . . (name illegible) risen to ten 
 thousand, market firm and rising. Waste no money on 
 
 comic paper. Not Read. 
 
 (Unsigned.) 
 
 Finally this damning piece of evidence must close the 
 terrible series.
 
 136 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 VI. 
 
 To the REV. EBENEZER BIGGS, CAPETOWN. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, 
 
 MY DEA SIR, Afril loth > l8 "' 
 
 You put me in a very difficult position, for, on 
 the one hand, I cannot, and would not, work against the 
 interests of my country, and on the other hand, I am 
 convinced that Mr. Chamberlain is determined to plunge 
 that country into the war spoken of by John in Revela- 
 tion ix. Anything I can do for peace I will, but for 
 some reason or other th Times will not insert my letters, 
 though I write to them twice and sometimes thrice in one 
 day. Sir Alfred Milner was once very rude to me. 
 He is a weak man morally, mainly intent upon ' ' getting 
 on"; he has agreed since his youth with every single 
 person of influence (except myself) whom he happened 
 to come across, and is universally liked. I fear that no 
 one's private influence can do much. The London Press 
 has been bought in a lump by two financiers. Perhaps 
 a little waiting is the best thing. There is sure to be a 
 reaction, and after all, Mr. Chamberlain is a man of a 
 very low order. His mind, I take it, is not unlike his 
 face. He thinks very little and very clearly. . . I 
 have really nothing more to say. 
 
 Always your sincere friend, 
 
 EDWARD BAYTON. 
 
 No one knew better than Dr. Caliban that a Revelation 
 is but weakened by comment. But the war was at its 
 height, and he could not read without disgust such 
 words, written in such a place by such a man.
 
 ON REVELATIONS 137 
 
 He added the note : 
 
 " We understand that the law officers of the Crown are 
 debating whether or no the concluding sentences of this dis- 
 graceful letter can be made to come within 26 Edward III., 
 cap. 37, defining high treason. It is certainly not a physical 
 attack upon the Person, Consort, or offspring of the Crown, 
 nor is it (strictly speaking) giving aid to the Queen's enemies. 
 On the other hand, it is devoutly hoped that the attack on 
 Mr. Chamberlain can be made to fall under 32 Henry VIII., 
 i, whereby it is felony to strike or ' provoke ' the King's 
 servants within the precincts of the Palace. The infamous 
 screed was certainly written in a palace, and Mr. Chamber- 
 lain is as certainly a servant of the Queen. He certainly was 
 provoked nay nettled. The latter clauses of the act, condemn- 
 ing those who attack the doctrine of Transubstantiation to be 
 roasted alive, have, of course, fallen into desuetude. The 
 earlier, milder, and more general clauses stand, and should 
 be enforced." 
 
 Let me not be misunderstood. I think it was an error 
 to pen that comment. Strong expressions, used in a 
 time of high party feeling, may look exaggerated when 
 they survive into quieter times. But if it was an error, 
 it was the only error that can be laid to the charge of a 
 just and great man in the whole course of forty years, 
 during which period he occasionally edited as many as 
 five journals at a time.
 
 X 
 
 SPECIAL PROSE 
 
 MRS. CALIBAN begged me to add a few words on 
 "Special Prose," and to subjoin an example of that 
 manner. She has suggested for the latter purpose Mrs. 
 Railston's "Appreciation of William Shakespeare," 
 written as a preface for the Charing Cross Shakespeare 
 in 1897. She has even been at the pains of asking 
 Mrs. Railston's leave to have it included in this volume, 
 a permission that was at once granted, accompanied with 
 the courteous request that Mrs. Railston's name, address, 
 and private advertisement should accompany the same. 
 
 Were I dependent upon my own judgment alone, the 
 wisdom of adding such a division at the close of these 
 essays might seem doubtful. Special Prose is an 
 advanced kind of literature, too great an attraction to 
 which might at first confuse rather than aid the student ; 
 and I should hardly make a place for it in a straight- 
 forward little Textbook. 
 
 Mrs. Caliban's wishes in all matters concerning this 
 work must be observed, and I have done what she 
 desired me, even to the degree of printing Mrs. 
 Railston's advertisement, though I am certain that great 
 Authoress does herself harm by this kind of insistence. 
 ... It is no business of mine. . . . 
 
 It is only fair to add that prose of this sort is the 
 highest form of our Art, and should be the ultimate 
 
 138
 
 SPECIAL PROSE 139 
 
 goal of every reader of this Guide. If, however, the 
 student is bewildered in his first attempt to decipher it 
 (as he very well may be), my advice to him is this : let 
 him mark the point to which he has persevered, and then 
 put the whole thing aside until he has had some little 
 further practice in English letters. Then let him return, 
 fresh from other work, some weeks later, and see if he 
 cannot penetrate still further into the close-knit texture. 
 Soon he will find it almost like his own tongue, and will 
 begin to love and to understand. 
 
 Not many months will pass before it will mean to him 
 something more than life, as he once imagined, could 
 contain. 
 
 Having said so much, let me hasten to obey Mrs. 
 Caliban's command. 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 An Appreciation. 
 BY MARGARET RAILSTON. 
 
 How very manifestly well did not Montaigne (I think 
 it was) say in his essay upon Value that the " inner part 
 of Poesy is whilom hid, whilom bare, and it matters 
 little whether it be bare or hidden. ' ' That was a sentence 
 such as our Wordsworth might have quoted at the high 
 court of Plato when the poets were arraigned as un- 
 worthy to be rooted in his Republic. For the most part 
 these dear poets of our tongue will rather have it bare 
 than hidden, leaving the subtleties of ' ' The Misan- 
 thrope ' ' to another race, and themselves preferring the 
 straight verbal stab of "The Idiot Boy" or "Danny 
 Deever " ; so that many of us see nothing in the Rhymed
 
 i 4 o THE AFTERMATH 
 
 Heroics of the Grand Siecle. Yet Moliere also had 
 
 genius. 
 
 " Moliere a du g6nie et Christian \& beau." 
 
 That sentence given nasally by a Coquelin to a theatre- 
 full of People of the Middle-Class should convince also 
 us of the Hither-North that flowers may blow in any 
 season and be as various as multiplicity may. 
 
 William Shakespeare, without all question and beyond 
 any repining, is or rather was the first of our Poets, 
 and was or rather is the first to-day. So that, with 
 him for a well and the Jacobean Bible for a further 
 spring of effort, our English Poets make up (" build " 
 Milton called it) the sounding line. But William 
 Shakespeare also is of us : he will have it on the 
 surface or not at all; as a man hastening to beauty, 
 too eager to delve by the way. And with it all how he 
 succeeds ! What grace and what appreciation in epithet, 
 what subtle and subconscious effects of verb ! What 
 resonant and yet elusive diction ! It is true Shakes- 
 peare, that line 
 
 " Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May." 
 And that other 
 
 " Or stoops with the Remover to remove." 
 
 And these are true Shakespeare because in each there is 
 we know not what of ivory shod with steel. A mixture 
 of the light and the strong, of the subtle and the intense 
 rescues his simple words from oblivion. But another, 
 not of our blood, would have hidden far more ; he shows 
 it all, frankly disdaining artifice. 
 
 Also the great Elizabethan needs room for his giant 
 limbs, for his frame of thought and his thews of diction.
 
 SPECIAL PROSE 141 
 
 Cite him just too shortly, choose but a hair's breadth too 
 mickle an ensample of his work, and it is hardly Poesy, 
 nay, hardly Prose. Thus you shall have Othello the 
 Moor they call him betrayed and raging, full of an 
 African Anger. What does he say of it? Why very 
 much ; but if you are of those that cut out their cameos 
 too finely ; you slip into quoting this merely : 
 " OTH. Hum ! Hum !" 
 
 And that is not our Shakespeare at all, nor e'en our 
 Othello. Oh ! no, it is nothing but a brutish noise, 
 meaning nothing, empty of tragedy, unwished for. 
 
 It was Professor Goodie who said that " none needed 
 the spaces of repose more than Shakespeare, "and taught 
 us in these words that the poet must have hills and 
 valleys; must recline if he is to rise. But does not 
 Shakespeare, even in his repose, seem to create? The 
 Professor will indeed quote to us the mere sprawling 
 leisure of Stratford, and shame us with such lines as 
 
 " MAC. The Devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced Icon, 
 Where got'st thou that goose look?" 
 
 Which is Shakespeare at full length. But we also, that 
 are not over sure of Shakespeare's failing, can answer 
 him with such excerpts as these : 
 
 " HEN. Therefore do thou, stiff -set Northumberland, 
 Retire to Chester, and my cousin here, 
 The noble Bedford, hie to Glo'ster straight 
 And give our Royal ordinance and word 
 That in this fit and strife of empery 
 No loss shall stand account. To this compulsion 
 I pledge my sword, my person and my honour 
 On the Great Seal of England : so farewell. 
 Swift to your charges : nought was ever done 
 Unless at some time it were first begun."
 
 M2 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 This also is Shakespeare in his repose, but a better 
 Shakespeare than he whom the Professor would chal- 
 lenge. For though there is here no work or strain in 
 the thing, yet it reeks of English. It is like the mist 
 over our valleys at evening, so effortless is it and so 
 reposeful, and yet so native. Note the climax " On the 
 Great Seal of England " and the quaint, characteristic 
 folklore of the concluding couplet, with its rhyming 
 effect. Note also how sparing is William Shakespeare 
 of the strong qualificative, however just it may be. For 
 when our moderns will speak hardly of " the tolerant 
 kine " or " the under-lit sky," or of " the creeping river 
 like a worm upturned, with silver belly stiffened in the 
 grass," though they be by all this infinitely stronger, 
 yet are they but the more condensed and self-belittled. 
 Shakespeare will write you ten lines and have in all but 
 one just and sharp adjective " stiff -set "; for the rest 
 they are a common highway ; he cares not. 
 
 And here he is in the by-paths ; a meadow of Poesy. 
 I have found it hidden away in one of the latter plays ; 
 the flowers of his decline : 
 
 " Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 
 Nor the furious winter's rages ; 
 Now thine earthly task is done, 
 Thou'rt gone home and ta'en thy wages. 
 Golden lads and lasses must, 
 Like chimney-sweepers, come to dust." 
 
 There is in that a line I swear no one but Shakespeare 
 would have dared. "Thou'rt gone home an ta'en thy 
 wages." Commonplace? A text on the wall? A 
 sermon-tag ? All you will, but a frame for glory. 
 This then is William Shakespeare in a last word. A
 
 SPECIAL PROSE 143 
 
 man at work full of doing ; the F epyov : glad if you 
 saw the mark of the chisel ; still more glad if you did 
 not see it. And if it be queried why are such things 
 written of him ? Why do we of the last and woeful days 
 turn and return the matter of our past? We say this. 
 Vixere Fortes ; that is, no fame were enduring save by 
 continued iterance and echo of similar praise, nor any 
 life well earned in the public sheets that dared not touch 
 on any matter and remodel all. It is for ourselves and 
 for William Shakespeare that these things are done. 
 For ourselves, that is a private thing to hide under the 
 veil of the Home-lofe. For William Shakespeare, that 
 is the public duty, that his fame may not fail in the 
 noise of new voices. And we can borrow from him and 
 return to him what he said of another with such distinc- 
 tion of plane and delicate observance of value : 
 
 " So long as men shall breathe and eyes can see, 
 This lives, and living, this gives life to thee." 
 
 [Notices in this manner can be furnished at reasonable 
 notice upon any poet, preferably a young or a modern 
 poet, on the usual terms. The style is produced in seven 
 distinct sizes, of which this is No. 3. Please state No. 
 when ordering. All envelopes to be addressed. 
 
 Mrs. MARGARET RAILSTON, 
 
 c/o Charlie Bernberg, 
 
 48, Upper Gannimore Gardens, 
 Shepherd's Bush, W. 
 
 All envelopes to be marked " Appreciation." Accounts 
 monthly. All cheques to be crossed " Becker, Becker, 
 and Bernberg."]
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 PRICES CURRENT 
 
 IN all ordinary lines Prices were well maintained and 
 rising at the outbreak of the Spanish- American War. 
 They rose sharply thenceforward till the second week of 
 the war in South Africa, since which date they have 
 been sagging, touching bed rock in the spring of this 
 year (March, 1903). There has been a slight reaction 
 since the beginning of the season, but it is not supported, 
 and the market is still extremely dull. Patriotic Poems 
 have fallen out of sight, and Criticism is going begging : 
 in some offices books are no longer given to their reviewers : 
 sub-editors have latterly been asked to bring their own 
 suppers. The pinch is being felt everywhere. Police 
 reports are on piece-work and the Religious Column is 
 shut down to half shifts. Leader writers have broken 
 from 1,100 a year to 300. Editors have suffered an all- 
 round cut in wages of 25 percent. Publishers' carrying- 
 over days are more anxious than ever. Several first-class 
 houses were hammered on the last contango, and the 
 Banks are calling in loans. Private capital can hardly 
 be obtained save for day-to-day transactions, and even 
 so at very high rates of interest. The only lines that are 
 well maintained are City Articles and Special Prose. 
 Snippets are steady. 
 
 145 10
 
 146 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 The following list is taken from Hunter's Handbook, 
 and represents Prices at the close of May : 
 
 PROSE 
 
 (Prices in shillings per thousand words.) 
 
 Rise or Fall. 
 3/- 3S/- Unchanged. 
 
 IO/- I2/- - 5/- 
 
 7/6 io/- -20/- 
 i8/- - 5 I. 
 
 Special Prose 
 
 Street Accidents .;. 
 
 Reviews 
 
 Police Court Notices 
 Guaranteed Libels 
 Unguaranteed ditto 
 
 Deferred ditto 
 
 Pompous Leaders 
 
 Smart Leaders 
 
 Ten- line Leaderettes 
 
 Political Appeals 
 
 Attacks on Foreign Nations 
 Dramatic Criticism 
 Historical Work ... '_" 
 
 Religious Notes 
 
 Attacks upon Christianity 
 
 IS/- 
 
 8/- io/. -2 5 /-l 
 
 9/- "/^ + 3/- 
 io/- 12 /- Unchanged. 
 
 i5/- i?/- ~3/- 
 3 /- 3/6 - 4 8/-!! 
 20 /- 25 /- Unchanged. 
 6d. ? (Practically 
 no demand). 
 i2/- i8/- - 8/- 
 4 /- 4/6 - 5 /- (A 
 very heavy fall for this 
 kind of matter). 
 
 VERSE 
 (Prices in pence per line.) 
 
 Bad Verse . . . No price can be given very variable. 
 Good minor Verse 3d . (much the same as last year). 
 Special Verse ... i/- (a heavy fall).
 
 APPENDIX 
 
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 H 25 3n
 
 148 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 (The Sections dealing with "THE DETECTION OF 
 CLASSICAL AUTHORS " and " THE VIVID PRESENTA- 
 TION OF HISTORY" have been omitted by request of 
 the Family. It is perhaps as well.) 
 
 NOTE ON TITLES 
 
 THE young journalist will never make an error as to the 
 title of an individual, and his proper style and address, 
 if he will but learn to trust the books of reference pro- 
 vided by the office. 
 
 They are far more accurate than other works of the 
 kind.* Contrast, for instance, Bowley's Peerage and 
 Baronetage with Bowley's Register of Events during the 
 Past Y4ar. 
 
 What may be called " derivative titles " differ in the 
 most complicated manner according to the rank of the 
 parent. It would be quite impossible for the journalist 
 to attempt to learn them. He had far better write plain 
 " Lord " and " Lady " where he has occasion to, and 
 on all other occasions whatsoever, "Mr." or, if he 
 prefer the term, " Esquire." In conversation no Lord 
 should be addressed as "My Lord," but a Bishop 
 should always be so addressed ; no Duke should be 
 called " Your Grace " to his face, but it is courteous 
 to bestow this honour upon an Archbishop. It is 
 still more important to avoid the term "milady" in 
 speaking to the consorts of the above named, especially 
 
 * They are often inaccurate with regard to the past history 
 of the families mentioned, and very often wrong in the spelling 
 of the family name; but these details are furnished by the 
 families themselves, upon whom the responsibility must rest.
 
 APPENDIX 149 
 
 in the case of bishops' wives, to whom the title does not 
 apply. Baronets, on the other hand, must always be 
 addressed as " Sir," followed by a Christian name. 
 The omission to do this has led to grievous trouble. The 
 principal English titles are : Prince, Duke, Marquis, 
 Marquess (a more recent creation), Earl, Baron; then 
 comes a division; then Irish Peers, Baronets, Knights, 
 and finally Members of the Victorian Order. 
 
 The principal foreign titles are : Count, Viscount 
 (which by the way is also an English title, but I forgot 
 it), Vidame, Chevalier, Excellency, Graf, Furst, Mar- 
 grave, Baron, Boyar, Monsignor, and Grandee the 
 latter used only in Spain, Ceuta, and the other Spanish 
 dominions beyond the seas. 
 
 Imperial titles are : The Maharajah, the Maharanee, 
 the Akon of Swat, the Meresala of Baghirmi, the Oyo 
 of Oya, the Allemami of Foutazallam, the Ameer, the 
 Emir, the Bally-o-Gum of Abe-o-Kuta,* and others too 
 numerous to mention. All these should, in general, be 
 addressed as "Your Highness." 
 
 Colonials are called " The Honourable." 
 
 NOTE ON STYLE 
 
 ONE does well to have by one a few jottings that will 
 enable one to add to one's compositions what one calls 
 style in case it is demanded of one by an editor. 
 
 I would not insist too much upon the point; it is 
 simple enough, and the necessity of which I speak does 
 not often crop up. But editors differ very much among 
 
 * I omit the ex-Jumbi of Koto-Koto, a rebellious upstart 
 whom the Imperial Government has very properly deposed.
 
 15 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 themselves, and every now and then one gets a manu- 
 script returned with the note, "please improve style," 
 in blue pencil, on the margin. If one had no idea as to 
 the meaning of this a good deal of time might be wasted, 
 so I will add here what are considered to be the five 
 principal canons of style or good English. 
 
 The first canon, of course, is that style should have 
 Distinction. Distinction is a quality much easier to 
 attain than it looks. It consists, on the face of it, in 
 the selection of peculiar words and their arrangement 
 in an odd and perplexing order, and the objection is 
 commonly raised that such irregularities cannot be rapidly 
 acquired. Thus the Chaplain of Barford, preaching 
 upon style last Holy Week, remarked " there is a 
 natural tendency in stating some useless and empty 
 thing to express oneself in a common or vulgar manner. " 
 That is quite true, but it is a tendency which can easily 
 be corrected, and I think that that sentence I have just 
 quoted throws a flood of light on the reverend gentleman's 
 own deficiencies. 
 
 Of course no writer is expected to write or even to 
 speak in this astonishing fashion, but what is easier than 
 to go over one's work and strike out ordinary words? 
 There should be no hesitation as to what to put in their 
 place. Halliwell's " Dictionary of Archaic and Pro- 
 vincial Words" will give one all the material one may 
 require. Thus " lettick " is charming Rutlandshire for 
 "decayed" or " putrescent," and "swinking" is a 
 very good alternative for "working." It is found in 
 Piers Plowman. 
 
 It is very easy to draw up a list of such unusual 
 words, each corresponding with some ordinary one, and
 
 APPENDIX 151 
 
 to pin it up where it will meet your eye. In all this 
 matter prose follows very much the same rules as were 
 discovered and laid down for verse on page 86. 
 
 The second canon of style is that it should be obscure, 
 universally and without exception. The disturbance of 
 the natural order of words to which I have just alluded 
 is a great aid, but it is not by any means the only way 
 to achieve the result. One should also on occasion use 
 several negatives one after the other, and the sly correc- 
 tion of punctuation is very useful. I have known a 
 fortune to be made by the omission of a full stop, and 
 a comma put right in between a noun and its adjective 
 was the beginning of Daniel Witton's reputation. A 
 foreign word misspelt is also very useful. Still more 
 useful is some allusion to some unimportant historical 
 person or event of which your reader cannot possibly 
 have heard. 
 
 As to the practice, which has recently grown up, of 
 writing only when one is drunk, or of introducing plain 
 lies into every sentence, they are quite unworthy of the 
 stylist properly so called, and can never permanently 
 add to one's reputation. 
 
 The third canon of style is the occasional omission of 
 a verb or of the predicate. Nothing is more agreeably 
 surprising, and nothing more effective. I have known 
 an honest retired major-general, while reading a novel 
 in his club, to stop puzzling at one place for an hour or 
 more in his bewilderment at this delightful trick, and 
 for years after he would exclaim with admiration at the 
 style of the writer. 
 
 The fourth canon of style is to use metaphors of a 
 striking, violent, and wholly novel kind, in the place of
 
 152 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 plain statement : as, to say ' ' the classics were grafted 
 on the standing stirp of his mind rather than planted in 
 its soil," which means that the man had precious little 
 Greek, or again, "we propose to canalise, not to dam, 
 the current of Afghan development," which means that 
 the commander of our forces in India strongly refused 
 to campaign beyond the Khyber. 
 
 This method, which is invaluable for the purpose of 
 flattering the rich, is very much used among the clergy, 
 and had its origin in our great Universities, where it is 
 employed to conceal ignorance, and to impart tone and 
 vigour to the tedium of academic society. The late 
 Bishop of Barchester was a past master of this manner, 
 and so was Diggin, the war correspondent, who first 
 talked of a gun " coughing " at one, and was sent home 
 by Lord Kitchener for lying. 
 
 The fifth canon of style is, that when you are bored 
 with writing and do not know what to say next, you 
 should hint at unutterable depths of idea by the intro- 
 duction of a row of asterisks. 
 
 THE ODE 
 
 THE writing of Odes seems to have passed so completely 
 out of our literary life, that I thought it inadvisable to 
 incorporate any remarks upon it with the standing part 
 of my book, but I cannot refrain from saying a few 
 words upon it in the Appendix, since I am convinced 
 that it is destined to play a great part in the near 
 future.
 
 APPENDIX 153 
 
 I will take for my example the well-known Ode 
 (almost the only successful modern example of this 
 form of composition) which was sung on the beach at 
 Calshott Castle, by a selected choir, on the return of 
 Mr. Joseph Chamberlain from South Africa ; and I will 
 use some passages from it in order to emphasize the 
 leading principle that the Ode depends for its effective- 
 ness almost entirely u-pon the music accompanying it. 
 
 Thus, Mr. Daniel Witton's opening lines : 
 
 " What strajiger barque from what imperial shores 
 The angry Solent dares to what mysterious goal?" 
 
 would seem tame enough were it not for the wonderful 
 rising of the notes which accompany them; and the 
 famous outburst : 
 
 " She to Southampton steers !" 
 
 is equally dependent upon the crash of music and the 
 combined voices of the whole choir. It is difficult for 
 us, who have heard it rendered in the Albert Hall, to 
 appreciate what the words would be without this adven- 
 titious aid. Even the lovely single line, 
 
 " Lift up your head, Southampton, dry your honourable 
 tears," 
 
 would be less without the delicate soprano floating above 
 its syllables. 
 
 I will admit that the passage on the bodyguard of 
 National Scouts is very fine, but then, precisely in 
 proportion as it is effective qua literature, it fails to 
 impress when accompanied by music, though the author 
 of the score was wise enough to set it to a somewhat 
 monotonous recitative. If the student will read the
 
 154 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 lines slowly to himself, first with, and then without, 
 the notes, he will see what I mean. 
 
 " And who more fit than they 
 Whose better judgment led them to betray 
 An aged leader and a failing cause 
 Because 
 Because they found it pay." 
 
 Mr. Daniel Witton did not write that word ' ' because ' ' 
 twice over in his original manuscript. He put it in 
 twice to please the musician (whose ignorance of the 
 English tongue was a great handicap throughout), and, 
 as I at least think, he made an error in so doing. 
 All that passage where the great politician 
 
 "... taking off his hat," 
 comes into the palace at Pretoria, where 
 
 " . . . in awful state alone, 
 Alone, the scientific Monist sat, 
 Who guards our realm, extends its narrow bounds, 
 And to achieve his end, 
 Is quite prepared to spend 
 
 The inconceivably imperial sum of twice three hundred 
 times five hundred thousand pounds," 
 
 shows the grave difficulty of wedding the verse to the 
 music. The last line is intolerably clumsy, when read 
 without the air accompanying it ; and the whole illus- 
 trates very well my contention that music should be the 
 chief thing in the composition of an ode, and that the 
 libretto should be entirely subservient to it. 
 
 A still better example is found in the great chorus 
 " Pretoria," which begins 
 
 " Pretoria with her hundred towers 
 Acknowledges his powers,"
 
 APPENDIX 155 
 
 and " Johannesburg," which ends 
 
 " Heil ! heil ! hoch ! heil ! du ubermenslich* wohl-gebornen 
 
 Graf von Chamberlein, 
 While underground, 
 While underground, 
 
 Such rare and scattered Kaffirs as are found 
 Repeat the happy, happy, happy, happy, sound." 
 
 And of course the lyric at the end 
 
 " All in his train de luxe 
 Reading selected books, 
 
 Including Conan Doyle's ingenious fiction 
 And popular quota- 
 Tions, verses by the way 
 
 For which he has a curious predilection, 
 And Mr. Werther's work 
 Called ' England shall not shirk,' 
 
 Or ' The Cape to Cairo, Kairouan and Cadiz,' 
 And ' Burke,' and ' Who is Who,' 
 And ' Men and Women ' too, 
 
 And ' Etiquette for Gentlemen and Ladies,' " 
 Et cetera, et cetera. 
 
 All that lyric depends entirely for its effects upon the 
 little Venetian air taken from Sullivan, who himself 
 took it from Verdi, who got it from a Gondolier. The 
 words by themselves have no beauty whatsoever. 
 
 Indeed, I think in the whole Ode there is but one 
 exception to the rule I have laid down, and that is at 
 the very end, where they sing of the accomplished task 
 and, in a fine hyperbole, of the " Great story that shall 
 shake the affrighted years." 
 
 The last five lines are such good music and such good 
 verse that I cannot dissociate one from the other : 
 
 " CHOKUS. And now returns he, turns, turns he to his own 
 TKOMBONE. Ah, maddened with delight, 
 
 I welcome him upon the loud trombone.
 
 156 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 THE BASS DRUM. I, in more subtle wise, 
 
 Upon the big bass drum. 
 THC TENOR. And I upon the trembling flute, that shrieks 
 
 and languishes and dies. 
 
 ALL THREE. Welcome, and make a widowed land rejoice : 
 Welcome, attuned voice; 
 Sweet eyes I" 
 
 It is a very fine ending, and I congratulate Mr. 
 Daniel Witton upon it most sincerely. . . . 
 
 ***** 
 It reminds one of the Bacchse. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Should the student desire to attempt something of 
 the kind for himself, he cannot do better than to invite 
 a musical friend and compose the ode strictly in con- 
 junction with him ; neither should write separately from 
 the other, and let there be no quarrels or tantrums, but 
 let each be ready to give way. 
 
 I suggest, as a subject for this exercise, a Funeral 
 Ode upon the same statesman, to be sung when occasion 
 serves. 
 
 ON REMAINDERS AND PULPING 
 
 SHOULD the student aspire to collect his journalistic 
 work, or the less ephemeral part of it, into book form, 
 he will do well to apply to some old and established firm 
 of publishers, who will give him a reasonable estimate 
 for its production, plus the cost of advertising, ware- 
 housing, wear and tear, office expenses, etc., etc., to 
 which must be added the customary Fee. 
 
 The book so issued will be sent to the Press for notice
 
 APPENDIX 157 
 
 and review, and will, some weeks later, be either Re- 
 maindered or Pulped. It is important to have a clear 
 idea of these processes which accompany an author 
 throughout his career. 
 
 A book is said to be Remaindered when it is sold to 
 the second-hand bookseller in bulk; 10 per cent, of the 
 sums so received, less the cost of cartage to and fro 
 from shop to shop, and the wages of the Persuader who 
 attempts to sell the volumes, is then credited to the 
 author in his account, which is usually pressed upon 
 the completion of the transaction. 
 
 The less fortunate must be content with Pulping. In 
 the midst of their chagrin they will be consoled by the 
 thought that their book enjoys a kind of resurrection, 
 and will reappear beneath some other, and who knows ? 
 perhaps some nobler form. The yery paper upon which 
 these words are printed may once have formed part of 
 a volume of verse, or of Imperialist pamphlets subsi- 
 dised by the South African Women's League. 
 
 A book is said to be Pulped when it is sold at so 
 many pence the thousand copies to the Pulpers* for 
 Pulping. The transformation is effected as follows : 
 First the covers are thoroughly and skilfully torn off 
 the edition by girls known as "Scalpers" or "Skin- 
 ners," and the Poems (or whatnot), after going through 
 this first process, are shot in batches of twenty-four into 
 a trough, which communicates by an inclined plane with 
 open receptacles known technically as "bins." Hence 
 the sheets are taken out by another batch of hands known 
 as " feeders " for it is their duty to " feed " the mar- 
 
 * Messrs. Ibbotson, of Fetter-lane, and Charlton and Co., 
 of St. Anne's, are the best-known Pulpers.
 
 158 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 vellous machine which is the centre of the whole works. 
 The Poems (as we may imagine them to be) are next 
 thrown by the "feeders," with a certain rapid and 
 practised gesture, into a funnel-shaped receiver, where 
 they are caught by Six Large Rows of strong Steel 
 Teeth* known as the "Jaws," which are so arranged 
 as just barely to miss each other ; these work alternatively 
 back and forth, and reduce the hardest matter to shreds 
 in an incredibly short time. 
 
 The shreds so formed fall on to a wide endless band, 
 which carries them on into the " bowl," where they are 
 converted under a continual stream of boiling water, into 
 a kind of loose paste. Lest any trace of the original 
 Poetic (or Prose) composition could remain to trouble 
 the whiteness of the rapidly forming mixture, this water 
 contains a 30 per cent, solution of Sardonic Oxide, two 
 kilogrammes of which will bleach one thousand kilos of 
 shredded Poems or Essays in from thirty-five to forty 
 minutes. When the Poems or whatnot have been finally 
 reduced to a white and formless mass, they are termed 
 pulp and this pulp is laid out into frames, to be con- 
 verted once more into paper, Art, glazed, and medium. 
 
 This principle of ' ' the Conservation of Paper ' ' or, 
 as Lord Balton (Sir Charles Quarry) has himself called 
 it, "the Circulation of Literature," is naturally more 
 developed among the Anglo-Saxon peoples than upon 
 the Continent. The patriotic reader will be pleased to 
 
 * Until Lord Balton (then Sir Charles Quarry) invented this 
 part of the machine, poems, apologies for Christianity, etc., 
 in fact all kinds of books, had to be torn laboriously into 
 minute pieces by hand. It is difficult for us to realise now-a- 
 days what exertion this involved. We live in an age of 
 machinery I
 
 APPENDIX 159 
 
 hear that whereas of existing German books barely 35 
 per cent, are pulped within the year, of French books 
 not 27 per cent., and of Italian but 15 per cent. ; of 
 our total production which is far larger no less than 
 73 per cent, are restored to their original character of 
 useful blank paper within the year, ready to receive 
 further impressions of Human Genius and to speed on 
 its accelerated round the progress of Mankind. 
 
 AMEN.
 
 INDEX 
 
 ABINGDON, History of, by Lord Charles Gamber, see 
 
 Pulping, p. 187. 
 Action, Combination of, with Plot, Powerful Effect of, in 
 
 Modern Novels, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Advertisement, Folly and Waste of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Affection, Immoderate, for our own Work, Cure of, see 
 
 Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 All Souls, College of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Amusements of Printers and Publishers, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Art, Literary, Ultimate End of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Astonishment of Young Poet, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Authorship, Vanity of Human, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Baronets, Family Histories of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Benjamin Kidd, see Kidd. 
 
 Beaune, Wine of, Its Consoling Qualities, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Beotius, Decline in Sale of Works of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Bilge, Literature so Termed, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Bird, The Honourable, his " Essay on Popery," see Pulping, 
 
 p. 187. 
 
 Books, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Bore, Books that, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Boston, Effect of, upon American Culture, see Pulping, 
 
 p. 187. 
 
 Cabs, Necessity of, to Modern Publisher, see Pulping, p. 
 
 187. 
 
 Cabs to Authors, Unwarrantable Luxury, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Call, Divine, to a Literary Career, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Curse, Publishers a, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Curron, Lord, his Literary Works, see Pulping, p. 187.
 
 ii THE AFTERMATH 
 
 Damn, Expletive, When Used, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Damn, Thirteen Qualifications of Same, sea Pulping, p. 187. 
 Daniel in Lion's Den Compared to a Just Author, se 
 
 Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Dogs, Reputation Going to the, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Dowagers, Novels Written by, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Doyle, Conan, see O'Doyle. 
 
 Dozen, Trade Term for Thirteen, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Dreyfus, Literature upon, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Education, Futility of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Eighty Club, see Female Suffrage, also Suffrage. 
 Elders, see Suzanna. 
 
 England, Source and Wealth of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Evil, Origin of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Fame, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Fate, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Finesse, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Finland, Doom of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Francis of Assisi, Saint, Modern Books on, see Pulping, 
 
 p. 187. 
 Fuss, Folly of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Genius, Indestructibility of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Hanging, Suicide by, when Caused by Failure, see Pulping, 
 
 p. 187. 
 
 Heaven, Monkish Fables upon, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Hell, ditto, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Howl, The Sudden, When Excusable, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 " Huguenot," pseudonym, his " Influence of Jesuits in 
 
 Europe," see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 India, Lord Curron's Views on, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Inspiration, Sole Source of Poetry, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Jesuits, Their Reply to " Huguenot," see Pulping, p. 187.
 
 INDEX iii 
 
 Kidd, Kenjamin, Philosophy of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Kruger, Memoirs of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Lamb, Charles, Centenary Edition of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 London, Fascination of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 " Lunaticus," his Essays on Foreign Politics, see Pulping, 
 
 p. 187. 
 Luzon, " How Old Glory Floats Over" (Putnam and Co., 3 
 
 dollars), see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Mach6, Papier, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 " Mamma," " Darling Old," Story for Children, by the 
 
 Countess of K , see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Milner, Lord, Proclamations of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Moulds, Modern Books Printed from, see Pulping, 187. 
 
 " Mucker," " To Come a," Publishers' slang, see Pulping, 
 
 p. 187. 
 
 
 Name, Real, of " Diplomaticus," see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 O'Doyle, Conan, Political Works of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Opper, Caricatures of England by, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Paper, How Procured, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Profits, Half, System of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Queen of Roumania, Verses by, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Rhodes, Cecil, Numerous Lives of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Rot, Inevitable End of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Rubbish, Common Fate of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Sabatier, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Soul, Human, What is the, by James Heading, see Pulping, 
 
 p. 187. 
 Suffrage, Female, Arguments For and Against, by Members 
 
 of the Eighty Club, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Suzanna and the Elders, Sacred Poem, see Pulping, p. 187.
 
 iv THE AFTERMATH 
 
 Tax, Bread, Repeal of, sea Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Times Newspaper, History of War in Sooth Africa, see 
 
 Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Times, Obituary Notices of, Reprinted, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Times, All Republications from, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Transvaal, Truth About, by Patrick FitzPatrick, see Pulping, 
 
 p. 187. 
 
 Uganda Railway, Balance-sheet of, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 
 Vanitas, Vanitatum, see Vanitatum. 
 Vanitatum, Vanitas, see Pulping, p. 187. 
 Vindez, his Great Biography of Cecil Rhodes, see Pulping, 
 p. 187. 
 
 W. X. Y. 2., see Pulping, p. 187.
 
 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 TO 
 THE REPUBLICAN CLUB 
 
 I AM DETERMINED TO DEDICATE THIS 
 
 BOOK, AND NOTHING SHALL TURN ME 
 
 FROM MY PURPOSE
 
 DEDICATORY ODE 
 
 I MEAN to write with all my strength 
 (It lately has been sadly waning), 
 
 A ballad of enormous length 
 
 Some parts of which will need explaining.*" 
 
 Because (unlike the bulk of men, 
 Who write for fame and public ends) 
 
 I turn a lax and fluent pen 
 
 To talking of my private friends, t 
 
 For no one, in our long decline, 
 So dusty, spiteful, and divided, 
 
 Had quite such pleasant friends as mine, 
 Or loved them half as much as I did. 
 
 The Freshman ambles down the High, 
 In love with everything he sees, 
 
 He notes the clear October sky, 
 He sniffs a vigorous western breeze. 
 
 * But do not think I shall explain 
 
 To any great extent. Believe me, 
 I partly write to give you pain, 
 And if you do not like me, leave me. 
 
 t And least of all can you complain, 
 Reviewers, whose unholy trade is, 
 To puff with all your might and main 
 Biographies of single ladies.
 
 166 DEDICATORY ODE 
 
 " Can this be Oxford ? This the place " 
 (He cries), " of which my father said 
 
 The tutoring was a damned disgrace, 
 The creed a mummery, stuffed and dead ? 
 
 " Can it be here that Uncle Paul 
 Was driven by excessive gloom, 
 
 To drink and debt, and, last of all, 
 To smoking opium in his room ? 
 
 " Is it from here the people come, 
 Who talk so loud, and roll their eyes, 
 
 And stammer ? How extremely rum ! 
 How curious ! What a great surprise. 
 
 ' ' Some influence of a nobler day 
 
 Than theirs (I mean than Uncle Paul's), 
 
 Has roused the sleep of their .decay, 
 And decked with light their ancient walls. 
 
 " O ! dear undaunted boys of old, 
 
 Would that your names were carven here, 
 
 For all the world in stamps of gold, 
 That I might read them and revere. 
 
 " Who wrought and handed down for me 
 This Oxford of the larger air, 
 
 Laughing, and full of faith, and free, 
 With youth resplendent everywhere." 
 
 Then learn : thou ill -instructed, blind, 
 Young, callow, and untutored man, 
 
 Their private names were * 
 
 Their club was called REPUBLICAN. 
 * * # * * 
 * Never mind.
 
 DEDICATORY ODE 167 
 
 Where on their banks of light they lie, 
 The happy hills of Heaven between, 
 
 The Gods that rule the morning sky 
 Are not more young, nor more serene 
 
 Than were the intrepid Four that stand, 
 The first who dared to live their dream, 
 
 And on this uncongenial land 
 To found the Abbey of Theleme. 
 
 We kept the Rabelaisian plan :* 
 
 We dignified the dainty cloisters 
 With Natural Law, the Rights of Man, 
 
 Song, Stoicism, Wine, and Oysters. 
 
 The library was most inviting : 
 
 The books upon the crowded shelves 
 
 Were mainly of our private writing : 
 We kept a school and taught ourselves. 
 
 We taught the art of writing things 
 On men we still should like to throttle : 
 
 And where to get the blood of kings 
 At only half-a-crown a bottle. 
 ***## 
 
 Eheu Fugaces ! Postume ! 
 
 (An old quotation out of mode) 
 My coat of dreams is stolen away, 
 
 My youth is passing down the road. 
 
 * The plan forgot (I know not how, 
 Perhaps the Refectory filled it) 
 To put a chapel in : and now 
 
 We're mortgaging the rest to build it.
 
 i68 DEDICATORY ODE 
 
 The wealth of youth, we spent it well 
 And decently, as very few can. 
 
 And is it lost ? I cannot tell ; 
 
 And what is more, I doubt if you can. 
 
 The question's very much too wide, 
 And much too deep, and much too hollow, 
 
 And learned men on either side 
 Use arguments I cannot follow. 
 
 They say that in the unchanging place, 
 Where all we loved is always dear, 
 
 We meet our morning face to face, 
 
 And find at last our twentieth year. . . . 
 
 They say (and I am glad they say), 
 
 It is so ; and it may be so : 
 It may be just the other way, 
 
 I cannot tell. But this I know : 
 
 From quiet homes and first beginning, 
 
 Out to the undiscovered ends, 
 There's nothing worth the wear of winning, 
 
 But laughter and the love of friends. 
 # * * * 
 
 But something dwindles, oh ! my peers, 
 And something cheats the heart and passes, 
 
 And Tom that meant to shake the years 
 Has come to merely rattling glasses. 
 
 And He, the Father of the Flock, 
 Is keeping Burmesans in order, 
 
 An exile on a lonely rock 
 That overlooks the Chinese border.
 
 DEDICATORY ODE 169 
 
 And One (myself I mean no less), 
 
 Ah ! will Posterity believe it 
 Not only don't deserve success, 
 
 But hasn't managed to achieve it. 
 
 Not even this peculiar town 
 
 Has ever fixed a friendship firmer, 
 
 But one is married, one's gone down, 
 And one's a Don, and one's in Burmah. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 And oh ! the days, the days, the days, 
 When all the four were off together : 
 
 The infinite deep of summer haze, 
 
 The roaring boast of autumn weather ! 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 I will not try the reach again, 
 
 I will not set my sail alone, 
 To moor a boat bereft of men 
 
 At Yarnton's tiny docks of stone. 
 
 But I will sit beside the fire, 
 And put my hand before my eyes, 
 
 And trace, to fill my heart's desire, 
 The last of all our Odysseys. 
 
 The quiet evening kept her tryst : 
 
 Beneath an open sky we rode, 
 And mingled with a wandering mist 
 
 Along the perfect Evenlode. 
 
 The tender Evenlode that makes 
 
 Her meadows hush to hear the sound 
 
 Of waters mingling in the brakes, 
 
 And binds my heart to English ground.
 
 i7o DEDICATORY ODE 
 
 A lovely river, all alone, 
 
 She lingers in the hills and holds 
 A hundred little towns of stone, 
 
 Forgotten in the western wolds. 
 
 I dare to think (though meaner powers 
 Possess our thrones, and lesser wits 
 
 Are drinking worser wine than ours, 
 In what's no longer Austerlitz) 
 
 That surely a tremendous ghost, 
 
 The brazen-lunged, the bumper-filler, 
 
 Still sings to an immortal toast, 
 The Misadventures of the Miller. 
 
 The vasty seas are hardly bar 
 To men with such a prepossession ; 
 
 We were ? Why then, by God, we are 
 Order ! I call the club to session 1 
 
 You do retain the song we set, 
 
 And how it rises, trips, and scans ? 
 
 You keep the sacred memory yet, 
 Republicans ? Republicans ? 
 
 You know the way the words were hurled, 
 To break the worst of fortune's rub ? 
 
 I give the toast across the world, 
 And drink it, "Gentlemen: the Club."
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 FAGK 
 
 DEDICATORY ODE - - 165 
 
 PREFACE - - 173 
 
 I. INTRODUCTORY -177 
 
 ii. LAMBKIN'S NEWDIGATE - 186 
 
 III. SOME REMARKS ON LAMBKIN'S PROSE STYLE 1 92 
 
 iv. LAMBKIN'S ESSAY ON "SUCCESS" - - 196 
 
 V. LAMBKIN ON " SLEEP " - - 2O2 
 
 vi. LAMBKIN'S ADVICE TO FRESHMEN - - 205 
 
 vn. LAMBKIN'S LECTURE ON "RIGHT" - - 211 
 
 vin. LAMBKIN'S SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE - 217 
 ix. LAMBKIN'S ADDRESS TO THE LEAGUE OF 
 
 PROGRESS - - 226 
 
 x. LAMBKIN'S LEADER - - 233 
 
 XL LAMBKIN'S REMARKS ON THE END OF TERM 236 
 xii. LAMBKIN'S ARTICLE ON THE NORTH-WEST 
 
 CORNER OF THE MOSAIC PAVEMENT OF THE 
 
 ROMAN VILLA AT BIGNOR - 241 
 
 xin. LAMBKIN'S SERMON - - 247 
 
 xiv. LAMBKIN'S OPEN LETTER TO CHURCHMEN - 254 
 
 xv. LAMBKIN'S LETTER TO A FRENCH FRIEND - 260 
 
 XVI. INTERVIEW WITH MR. LAMBKIN - - 266 
 
 171
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THE preparation of the ensuing pages has been a labour 
 of love, and has cost me many an anxious hour. " Of 
 the writing of books," says the learned Psalmist (or 
 more probably a Syro-Chaldasic scribe of the third 
 century) ' ' there is no end ' ' ; and truly it is a very 
 solemn thought that so many writers, furnishing the 
 livelihood of so many publishers, these in their turn 
 supporting so many journals, reviews, and magazines, 
 and these last giving bread to such a vast army of 
 editors, reviewers, and what not I say it is a very 
 solemn thought that this great mass of people should 
 be engaged upon labour of this nature; labour which, 
 rightly applied, might be of immeasurable seryice to 
 humanity, but which is, alas ! so often diverted into 
 useless or even positively harmful channels : channels 
 upon which I could write at some length, were it not 
 necessary for me, however, to bring this reflection to 
 a close. 
 
 A fine old Arabic poem probably the oldest complete 
 literary work in the world (I mean the Comedy which 
 we are accustomed to call the Book of Job)* contains 
 
 * There can be no doubt that the work is a true example 
 of the early Semitic Comedy. It was probably sung in Parts 
 at the Spring-feast, and would be acted by shepherds wear- 
 ing masks and throwing goatskins at one another, as they 
 appear on the Bas-relief at Ik-shumul. See the article in 
 Righteousness, by a gentleman whom the Bible Society sent 
 out to Assyria at their own expense ; and the note to Appendix 
 A of Benson's Og: King of Bashan. 
 
 173
 
 174 PREFACE 
 
 hidden away among its many treasures the phrase, "Oh ! 
 that mine enemy had written a book !" This craving 
 for literature, which is so explicable in a primitive 
 people, and the half -savage desire that the labour of 
 writing should fall upon a foeman captured in battle, 
 have given place in the long process of historical develop- 
 ment to a very different spirit. There is now, if any- 
 thing, a superabundance of literature, and an apology 
 is needed for the appearance of such a work as this, nor, 
 indeed, would it have been brought out had it not been 
 imagined that Lambkin's many friends would give it a 
 ready sale. 
 
 Animaxander, King of the Milesians, upon being 
 asked by the Emissary of Atarxessus what was, in 
 his opinion, the most wearying thing in the world, 
 replied by cutting off the head of the messenger, thus 
 outraging the religious sense of a time to which guests 
 and heralds were sacred, as being under the special 
 protection of Zevs (pronounced " Tsephs "). 
 
 Warned by the awful fate of the sacrilegious monarch, 
 I will put a term to these opening remarks. My book 
 must be its own preface, I would that the work could 
 be also its own publisher, its own bookseller, and its 
 own reviewer. 
 
 It remains to me only to thank the many gentlemen 
 who have aided me in my task with the loan of letters, 
 scraps of MSS., portraits, and pieces of clothing in 
 fine, with all that could be of interest in illustrating 
 Lambkin's career. My gratitude is especially due to 
 Mr. Binder, who helped in part of the writing ; to Mr. 
 Cook, who was kind enough to look over the proofs; 
 and to Mr. Wallingford, Q.C., who very kindly con-
 
 PREFACE 175 
 
 sen ted to receive an advance copy. I must also thank 
 the Bishop of Bury for his courteous sympathy and 
 ever-ready suggestion; I must not omit from this list 
 M. Hertz, who has helped me with French, and whose 
 industry and gentlemanly manners are particularly 
 pleasing. 
 
 I cannot close without tendering my thanks in general 
 to the printers who have set up this book, to the agencies 
 which have distributed it, and to the booksellers, who 
 have put it upon their shelves; I feel a deep debt of 
 gratitude to a very large number of people, and that is 
 a pleasant sensation for a man who, in the course of a 
 fairly successful career, has had to give (and receive) 
 more than one shrewd knock. 
 
 THE CHAPLAINCY, 
 
 BURFORD COLLEGE, 
 OXFORD. 
 
 P.S. I have consulted, in the course of this work, 
 Liddell and Scott's Larger Greek Lexicon, Smith's Dic- 
 tionary of Antiquities, Skeat's Etymological Dictionary, 
 Le Dictionaire Franco- Anglais, et Anglo-Francois, of 
 Boileau, Curtis' English Synonyms, Buffle on Punctua- 
 tion, and many other authorities which will be acknow- 
 ledged in the text.
 
 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 BEING THE UNPUBLISHED WORKS OF 
 
 J. A. LAMBKIN, M.A., 
 Sometime Fellow of Burford College. 
 
 I 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 IT is without a trace of compunction or regret that I 
 prepare to edit the few unpublished essays, sermons, 
 and speeches of my late dear friend, Mr. Lambkin. On 
 the contrary, I am rilled with a sense that my labour is 
 one to which the clearest interests of the whole English 
 people call me, and I have found myself, as the work 
 grew under my hands, fulfilling, if I may say so with 
 due modesty, a high and noble duty. I remember 
 Lambkin himself, in one of the last conversations I 
 had with him, saying with the acuteness that charac- 
 terised him, " The world knows nothing of its greatest 
 men." This pregnant commentary upon human affairs 
 was, I admit, produced by an accident in the Oxford 
 Herald which concerned myself. In a description of a 
 Public Function my name had been mis-spelt, and 
 though I was deeply wounded and offended, I was 
 careful (from a feeling which I hope is common to all 
 of us) to make no more than the slightest reference to 
 this insult. 
 
 177 12
 
 i 7 8 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 The acute eye of friendship and sympathy, coupled 
 with the instincts of a scholar and a gentleman, per- 
 ceived my irritation, and in the evening Lambkin 
 uttered the memorable words that I have quoted. I 
 thanked him warmly, but, if long acquaintance had 
 taught him my character, so had it taught me his. I 
 knew the reticence and modesty of my colleague, the 
 almost morbid fear that vanity (a vice which he detested) 
 might be imputed to him on account of the exceptional 
 gifts which he ceuld not entirely ignore or hide ; and I 
 was certain that the phrase which he constructed to heal 
 my wound was not without some reference to his own 
 unmerited obscurity. 
 
 The world knows nothing of its greatest men ! 
 Josiah Lambkin ! from whatever Cypress groves of the 
 underworld which environs us when on dark winter even- 
 ings in the silence of our own souls which nothing can 
 dissolve though all attunes to that which nature herself 
 perpetually calls us, always, if we choose but to 
 remember, your name shall be known wherever the 
 English language and its various dialects are spoken. 
 The great All-mother has made me the humble instru- 
 ment, and I shall perform my task as you would have 
 desired it in a style which loses half its evil by losing 
 all its rhetoric; I shall pursue my way and turn neither 
 to the right nor to the left, but go straight on in the 
 fearless old English fashion till it is completed. 
 
 Josiah Abraham Lambkin was born of well-to-do and 
 gentlemanly parents in Bayswater* on January igih, 
 1843. His father, at the time of his birth, entertained 
 
 * The house is now occupied by Mr. Heavy, the well-known 
 financier.
 
 INTRODUCTORY 179 
 
 objections to the great Public Schools, largely founded 
 upon his religious leanings, which were at that time 
 opposed to the ritual of those institutions. In spite 
 therefore of the .vehement protestations of his mother 
 (who was distantly connected on the maternal side with 
 the Cromptons of Cheshire) the boy passed his earlier 
 years under the able tutorship of a Nonconformist 
 divine, and later passed into the academy of Dr. 
 Whortlebury at Highgate.* 
 
 Of his school-days he always spoke with some bitter- 
 ness. He appears to have suffered considerably from 
 bullying, and the Headmaster, though a humane, was 
 a blunt man, little fitted to comprehend the delicate 
 nature with which he had to deal. On one occasion 
 the nervous susceptible lad found it necessary to lay 
 before him a description of the treatment to which he 
 had been subjected by a younger and smaller, but much 
 stronger boy ; the pedagogue's only reply was to flog 
 Lambkin heartily with a light cane, "inflicting," as 
 he himself once told me, "such exquisite agony as would 
 ever linger in his memory." Doubtless this teacher of 
 the old school thought he was (to use a phrase then 
 common) "making a man of him," but the object was 
 not easily to be attained by brutal means. Let us be 
 thankful that these punishments have nearly disappeared 
 from our modern seminaries. 
 
 When Josiah was fifteen years of age, his father, 
 having prospered in business, removed to Eaton Square 
 
 * The old school house has been pulled down to make room 
 
 for a set of villas called "Whortlebury Gardens." I believe 
 
 No. 35 to be the exact spot, but was unable to determine it 
 
 accurately on account of the uncourteous action of the present 
 
 proprietor.
 
 i8o LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 and bought an estate in Surrey. The merchant's mind, 
 which, though rough, was strong and acute, had mean- 
 while passed through a considerable change in the matter 
 of religion; and as the result of long but silent self- 
 examination he became the ardent supporter of a system 
 which he had formerly abhorred. It was therefore 
 determined to send the lad to one of the two great 
 Universities, and though Mrs. Lambkin's second 
 cousins, the Crumptons, had all been to Cambridge, 
 Oxford was finally decided upon as presenting the 
 greater social opportunities at the time.* 
 
 Here, then, is young Lambkin, in his nineteenth year, 
 richly but soberly dressed, and eager for the new life 
 that opens before him. He was entered at Burford 
 College on October the i5th, 1861 ; a date which is, 
 by a curious coincidence, exactly thirty-six years, four 
 months, and two days from the time in which I pen 
 these lines. 
 
 Of his undergraduate career there is little to be told. 
 Called by his enemies " The Burford Bounder," or 
 " dirty Lambkin," he yet acquired the respect of a 
 small but choice circle who called him by his own 
 name. He was third proxime accessit for the Johnson 
 prize in Biblical studies, and would undoubtedly have 
 obtained (or been mentioned for) the Newdigate, had he 
 not been pitted against two men of quite exceptional 
 poetic gifts the present editor of " The Investor's Sure 
 Prophet," and Mr. Hound, the well-known writer on 
 " Food Statistics." 
 
 He took a good Second-class in Greats in the summer 
 of 1864, and was immediately elected to a fellowship 
 * I am speaking of 1861.
 
 INTRODUCTORY 181 
 
 at Burford. It was not known at the time that his 
 father had become a bankrupt through lending large 
 sums at a high rate of interest to a young heir without 
 security, trusting to the necessity under which his name 
 and honour would put him to pay. In the shipwreck 
 of the family fortunes, the small endowment was a 
 veritable godsend to Josiah, who but for this recognition 
 of his merits would have been compelled to work for his 
 living. 
 
 As it was, his peculiar powers were set free to plan 
 his great monograph on ' ' Being, ' ' a work which, to the 
 day of his death, he designed not only to write but to 
 publish. 
 
 There was not, of course, any incident of note in the 
 thirty years during which he held his fellowship. He 
 did his duty plainly as it lay before him, occasionally 
 taking pupils, and after the Royal Commission, even 
 giving lectures in the College hall. He was made Junior 
 Dean in October, 1872, Junior Bursar in 1876, and 
 Bursar in 1880, an office which he held during the rest 
 of his life. 
 
 In this capacity no breath of calumny ever touched 
 him. His character was spotless. He never offered or 
 took compensations of any kind, and no one has hinted 
 that his accounts were not accurately and strictly kept. 
 
 He never allowed himself to be openly a candidate 
 for the Wardenship of the College, but it is remarkable 
 that he received one vote at each of the three elections 
 held in the twenty years of his residence. 
 
 He passed peacefully away just after Hall on the 
 Gaudy Night of last year. When his death was reported, 
 an old scout, ninety-two years of age, who had grown
 
 i8z LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 deaf in the service of the College, burst into tears and 
 begged that the name might be more clearly repeated to 
 him, as he had failed to catch it. On hearing it he 
 dried his eyes, and said he had never known a better 
 master. 
 
 His character will, I think, be sufficiently evident in 
 the writings which I shall publish. He was one of 
 nature's gentlemen; reticent, just, and full of self- 
 respect. He hated a scene, and was careful to avoid 
 giving rise even to an argument. On the other hand, he 
 was most tenacious of his just rights, though charitable 
 to the deserving poor, and left a fortune of thirty-five 
 thousand pounds. 
 
 In the difficult questions which arise from the superior 
 rank of inferiors he displayed a constant tact and judg- 
 ment. It is not always easy for a tutor to control and 
 guide the younger members of the aristocracy without 
 being accused of pitiless severity on the one hand or of 
 gross obsequiousness on the other. Lambkin, to his 
 honour, contrived to direct with energy and guide with- 
 out offence the men upon whom England's greatness 
 depends. 
 
 He was by no means a snob snobbishness was not in 
 him. On the other hand, he was equally removed from 
 what is almost worse than snobbishness the morbid 
 terror of subservience which possesses some ill-balanced 
 minds. 
 
 His attitude was this : that we are compelled to admit 
 the aristocratic quality of the English polity and should, 
 while decently veiling its cruder aspects, enjoy to the 
 full the benefits which such a constitution confers upon 
 society and upon our individual selves.
 
 INTRODUCTORY 183 
 
 By a genial observance of such canons he became one 
 of the most respected among those whom the chances of 
 an academic career presented to him as pupils or parents. 
 He was the guest and honoured friend of the Duke 
 of Cumberland, the Duke of Pembroke, the Duke of 
 Limerick ("Mad Harry "), and the Duke of Lincoln; 
 he had also the honour of holding a long conversation 
 with the Duke of Berkshire, whom he met upon the top 
 of an omnibus in Piccadilly and instantly recognised. 
 He possessed letters, receipts or communications from 
 no less than four Marquises, one Marquess, ten Barons, 
 sixteen Baronets, and one hundred and twenty County 
 Gentlemen. I must not omit Lord Grumbletooth, who 
 had had commercial dealings with his father, and who 
 remained to the end of his life a cordial and devoted 
 friend.* 
 
 His tact in casual conversation was no less remark- 
 able than his general savoir faire in the continuous 
 business of life. Thus upon one occasion a royal 
 personage happened to be dining in Hall. It was 
 some days after the death of Mr. Hooligan, the well- 
 known Home Rule leader. The distinguished guest, 
 with perhaps a trifle of licence, turned to Lambkin 
 and said, " Well, Mr. Bursar, what do you think of 
 Hooligan?" We observed a respectful silence and 
 wondered what reply Lambkin would give in these 
 difficult circumstances. The answer was like a bolt 
 from the blue, " De mortuis nil nisi bonum," said the 
 Classical Scholar, and a murmur of applause went 
 round the table. 
 
 * Mr. Lambkin has assured me that his lordship had main- 
 tained these relations to the day of his death.
 
 184 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 Indeed his political views were perhaps the most 
 remarkable feature in a remarkable character. He 
 died a convinced and staunch Liberal Unionist, and this 
 was the more striking as he was believed by all his 
 friends to be a conservative until the introduction of 
 Mr. Gladstone's famous Bill in 1885. 
 
 In the delicate matter of religious controversy his own 
 writings must describe him, nor will I touch here upon 
 a question which did not rise to any considerable public 
 importance until after his death. Perhaps I may be 
 permitted to say this much ; he was a sincere Christian 
 in the true sense of the word, attached to no narrow 
 formularies, but following as closely as he could the 
 system of Seneca, stiffened (as it were) with the medita- 
 tions of Marcus Aurelius, though he was never so violent 
 as to attempt a practice of what that extreme stoic laid 
 down in theory. 
 
 Neither a ritualist nor a low-churchman, he expressed 
 his attitude by a profound and suggestive silence. These 
 words only escaped him upon one single occasion. Let 
 us meditate upon them well in the stormy discussions of 
 to-day : " Medio tutissimus ibis." 
 
 His learning and scholarship, so profound in the 
 dead languages, was exercised with singular skill and 
 taste in the choice he made of modern authors. 
 
 He was ignorant of Italian, but thoroughly conversant 
 with the French classics, which he read in the admirable 
 translations of the " Half-crown Series." His principal 
 reading here was in the works of Voltaire, wherein, 
 however, he confessed, " He could find no style, and 
 little more than blasphemous ribaldry." Indeed, of the 
 European languages he would read German with the
 
 INTRODUCTORY 185 
 
 greatest pleasure, confining himself chiefly to the writ- 
 ings of Lessing, Kant, and Schiller. His mind acquired 
 by this habit a singular breadth and fecundity, his style 
 a kind of rich confusion, and his speech (for he was 
 able to converse a little in that idiom) was strengthened 
 by expressions of the deepest philosophic import; a 
 habit which gave him a peculiar and individual power 
 over his pupils, who mistook the teutonic gutturals for 
 violent objurgations. 
 
 Such was the man, such the gentleman, the true 
 " Hglaford," the modern " Godgebidden Eorldeman- 
 thingancanning, " whose inner thoughts shall unroll 
 themselves in the pages that follow.
 
 II 
 
 LAMBKIN'S NEWDIGATE 
 
 POEM WRITTEN FOR " NEWDIGATE PRIZE" IN 
 ENGLISH VERSE 
 
 BY J. A. LAMBKIN, ESQ., OF BURFORD COLLEGE 
 
 N.B. [The competitors are confined to the use of Rhymed 
 Heroic Iambic Pentameters, but the introduction of LYRICS is 
 permitted]. 
 
 Subject: "THE BENEFITS CONFERRED BY SCIENCE, 
 
 ESPECIALLY IN CONNECTION WITH THE ELECTRIC 
 
 LIGHT 
 
 For the benefit of those who do not care to read through the 
 Poem but desire to know its contents, 1 append the follow- 
 ing headings: 
 
 INVOCATION TO THE MUSE 
 
 HAIL ! Happy Muse, and touch the tuneful string ! 
 The benefits conferred by Science* I sing. 
 
 His THEME : THE ELECTRIC LIGHT AND ITS BENEFITS 
 Under the kind Examiners' t direction 
 I only write about them in connection 
 With benefits which the Electric Light 
 Confers on us; especially at night. 
 
 * To be pronounced as a monosyllable in the American 
 fashion. 
 
 t Mr. Punt, Mr. Howl, and Mr. Grewcock (now, alas ! 
 deceased). 
 
 186
 
 LAMBKIN'S NEWDIGATE 187 
 
 These are my theme, of these my song shall rise. 
 My lofty head shall swell to strike the skies,* 
 And tears of hopeless love bedew the maiden's eyes. 
 
 SECOND INVOCATION TO THE MUSE 
 Descend, O Muse, from thy divine abode, 
 
 OSNEY 
 
 To Osney, on the Seven Bridges Road ; 
 
 For under Osney 's solitary shade 
 
 The bulk of the Electric Light is made. 
 
 Here are the works, from hence the current flows 
 
 Which (so the Company's prospectus goes) 
 
 POWER OF WORKS THERE 
 
 Can furnish to Subscribers hour by hour 
 No less than sixteen thousand candle power, t 
 All at a thousand volts. (It is essential 
 To keep the current at this high potential 
 In spite of the considerable expense.) 
 
 STATISTICS CONCERNING THEM 
 
 The Energy developed represents, 
 Expressed in foot-tons, the united forces 
 Of fifteen elephants and forty horses. 
 But shall my scientific detail thus 
 Clip the dear wings of Buoyant Pegasus ? 
 
 * A neat rendering of " Sublimi feriam sidera vertice." 
 t To the Examiners. These facts (of which I guarantee the 
 accuracy) were given me by a Director.
 
 i88 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 POETICAL OR RHETORICAL QUESTIONS 
 Shall pure statistics jar upon the ear 
 That pants for Lyric accents loud and clear ? 
 Shall I describe the complex Dynamo 
 Or write about its commutator ? No ! 
 
 THE THEME CHANGES 
 To happier fields I lead my wanton pen, 
 The proper study of mankind is men. 
 
 THIRD INVOCATION TO THE MUSE 
 Awake, my Muse ! Portray the pleasing sight 
 That meets us where they make Electric Light. 
 
 A PICTURE OF THE ELECTRICIAN 
 Behold the Electrician where he stands : 
 Soot, oil, and verdigris are on his hands ; 
 Large spots of grease defile his dirty clothes, 
 The while his conversation drips with oaths. 
 Shall such a being perish in its youth ? 
 Alas ! it is indeed the fatal truth. 
 In that dull brain, beneath that hair unkempt, 
 Familiarity has bred contempt. 
 We warn him of the gesture all too late ; 
 Oh, Heartless Jove ! Oh, Adamantine Fate ! 
 
 His AWFUL FATE 
 
 Some random Touch a hand's imprudent slip 
 The Terminals a flash a sound like " Zip I" 
 A smell of burning fills the startled Air 
 The Electrician is no longer there !
 
 LAMBKIN'S NEWDIGATE 189 
 
 HE CHANGES HIS THEME 
 
 But let us turn with true Artistic scorn 
 From facts funereal and from views forlorn 
 Of Erebus and Blackest midnight born.* 
 
 FOURTH INVOCATION TO THE MUSE 
 
 Arouse thee, Muse ! and chaunt in accents rich 
 
 The interesting processes by which 
 
 The Electricity is passed along : 
 
 These are my theme, to these I bend my song. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF METHOD BY WHICH THE CURRENT 
 is USED 
 
 It runs encased in wood or porous brick 
 
 Through copper wires two millimetres thick, 
 
 And insulated on their dangerous mission 
 
 By indiarubber, silk, or composition, 
 
 Here you may put with critical felicity 
 
 The following question : " What is Electricity?" 
 
 DIFFICULTY OF DETERMINING NATURE OF ELECTRICITY 
 
 "Molecular Activity," say some, 
 
 Others when asked say nothing, and are dumb. 
 
 Whatever be its nature : this is clear, 
 
 The rapid current checked in its career, 
 
 Baulked in its race and halted in its courset 
 
 Transforms to heat and light its latent force : 
 
 * A reminiscence of Milton : " Fas est et ab hoste doceri." 
 f Lambkin told me he regretted this line, which was for the 
 
 sake of Rhyme. He would willingly have replaced it, but to 
 
 his last day could construct no substitute.
 
 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 CONSERVATION OF ENERGY. PROOFS OF THIS : 
 NO EXPERIMENT NEEDED 
 
 It needs no pedant in the lecturer's chair 
 To prove that light and heat are present there. 
 The pear-shaped vacuum globe, I understand, 
 Is far too hot to fondle with the hand, 
 While, as is patent to the meanest sight, 
 The carbon filament is very bright. 
 
 DOUBTS ON THE MUNICIPAL SYSTEM, BUT 
 As for the lights they hang about the town, 
 Some praise them highly, others run them down. 
 This system (technically called the arc) 
 Makes some passages too light, others too dark. 
 
 NONE ON THE DOMESTIC 
 But in the house the soft and constant rays 
 Have always met with universal praise. 
 
 ITS ADVANTAGES 
 
 For instance : if you want to read in bed 
 No candle burns beside your curtains' head, 
 Far from some distant corner of the room 
 The incandescent lamp dispels the gloom, 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF LARGE PRINT 
 And with the largest print need hardly try 
 The powers of any young and vigorous eye. 
 
 FIFTH INVOCATION TO THE MUSE 
 
 Aroint thee, Muse ! inspired the poet sings ! 
 I cannot help observing future things !
 
 LAMBKIN'S NEWDIGATE 191 
 
 THE ONLY HOPE OF HUMANITY is IN SCIENCE 
 
 Life is a vale, its paths are dark and rough 
 Only because we do not know enough. 
 When Science has discovered something more 
 We shall be happier than we were before. 
 
 PERORATION IN THE SPIRIT OF THE REST OF 
 THE POEM 
 
 Hail ! Britain, mistress of the Azure Main, 
 Ten Thousand Pleets sweep over thee in vain ! 
 Hail ! mighty mother of the brave and free, 
 That beat Napoleon, and gave birth to me ! 
 Thou that canst wrap in thine emblazoned robe 
 One quarter of the habitable globe. 
 Thy mountains, wafted by a favouring breeze, 
 Like mighty hills withstand the stormy seas. 
 
 WARNING TO BRITAIN 
 
 Thou art a Christian Commonwealth. And yet 
 Be thou not all unthankful nor forget 
 As thou exultest in Imperial might 
 The benefits of the Electric Light.
 
 Ill 
 
 SOME REMARKS ON LAMBKIN'S 
 PROSE STYLE 
 
 No achievement of my dear friend's produced a greater 
 effect than the English Essay which he presented at his 
 examination. That so young a man, and a man trained 
 in such an environment as his, should have written an 
 essay at all was sufficiently remarkable, but that his 
 work should have shown such mastery in the handling, 
 such delicate balance of idea, and so much know-ledge 
 (in the truest sense of the word), coupled with such an 
 astounding insight into human character and contem- 
 porary psychology, was enough to warrant the remark 
 of the then Warden of Burford : "If these things" 
 (said the aged but eminent divine), " if these things " 
 (it was said in all reverence and with a full sense of 
 the responsibility of his position), " If these things are 
 done in the green wood, what will be done in the dry?" 
 
 Truly it may be said that the Green Wood of 
 Lambkin's early years as an Undergraduate was 
 worthily followed by the Dry Wood of his later life 
 as a fellow and even tutor, nay, as a Bursar of his 
 college. 
 
 It is not my purpose to add much to the reader's own 
 impressions of this tour de force, or to insist too strongly 
 upon the skill and breadth of treatment which will at 
 
 192
 
 LAMBKIN'S PROSE STYLE 193 
 
 once make their mark upon any intelligent man, and 
 even upon the great mass of the public. But I may be 
 forgiven if I give some slight personal memories in 
 interpretation of a work which is necessarily presented 
 in the cold medium of type. 
 
 Lambkin's hand-writing was flowing and determined, 
 but was often difficult to read, a quality which led in the 
 later years of his life to the famous retort made by 
 the Rural Dean of Henchthorp to the Chaplain of 
 Bower's Hall.* His manuscript was, like Lord Byron's 
 (and unlike the famous Codex V in the Vatican), re- 
 markable for its erasures, of which as many as three 
 may be seen in some places super-imposed, ladder-wise, 
 en echelle, the one above the other, perpendicularly to 
 the line of writing. 
 
 This excessive fastidiousness in the use of words was 
 the cause of his comparatively small production of 
 written work; and thus the essay printed below was 
 the labour of nearly three hours. His ideas in this 
 matter were best represented by his little epigram on 
 the appearance of Liddell and Scott's larger Greek 
 Lexicon. " Quality not quantity " was the witty phrase 
 which he was heard to mutter when he received his first 
 copy of that work. 
 
 The nervous strain of so much anxiety about his 
 literary work wearied both mind and body, but he had 
 his reward. The scholarly aptitude of every particle in 
 the phrase, and the curious symmetry apparent in the 
 great whole of the essay are due to a quality which he 
 pushed indeed to excess, but never beyond the boundary 
 
 * The anecdote will be found in my Fifty Years of Chance 
 Acquaintances. (Isaacs and Co., 445. net.) 
 
 13
 
 i 9 4 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 that separates Right and Wrong; we admire in the 
 product what we might criticise in the method, and 
 when we judge as critics we are compelled as English- 
 men and connoisseurs to congratulate and to applaud. 
 
 He agreed with Aristotle in regarding lucidity as the 
 main virtue of style. And if he sometimes failed to 
 attain his ideal in this matter, the obscurity was due to 
 none of those mannerisms which are so deplorable in a 
 Meredith or a Browning, but rather to the fact that he 
 found great difficulty in ending a sentence as he had 
 begun it. His mind outran his pen ; and the sentence 
 from his University sermon, " England must do her 
 duty, or what will the harvest be ?" stirring and patriotic 
 as it is, certainly suffers from some such fault, though I 
 cannot quite see where. 
 
 The Oxymoron, the Aposiopesis, the Nominativus 
 Pendens, the Anacoluthon and the Zeugma he looked 
 upon with abhorrence and even with dread. He was a 
 friend to all virile enthusiasm in writing but a foe to 
 rhetoric, which (he would say) ' ' is cloying even in a 
 demagogue, and actually nauseating in the literary 
 man." He drew a distinction between eloquence and 
 rhetoric, often praising the one and denouncing the 
 other with the most abandoned fervour : indeed, it was 
 his favourite diversion in critical conversation accurately 
 to determine the meaning of words. In early youth he 
 would often split an infinitive or end a sentence with a 
 preposition. But, ever humble and ready to learn, he 
 determined, after reading Mrs. Griffin's well-known 
 essays in the Daily American, to eschew such conduct 
 for the future; and it was a most touching sight to 
 watch him, even in extreme old age, his reverend white
 
 LAMBKIN'S PROSE STYLE 195 
 
 locks sweeping the paper before him and his weak eyes 
 peering close at the MSS. as he carefully went over his 
 phrases with a pen, scratching out and amending, at the 
 end of his day's work, the errors of this nature. 
 
 He commonly used a gilt " J " nib, mounted upon a 
 holder of imitation ivory, but he was not cramped by any 
 petty limitations in such details and would, if necessity 
 arose, make use of a quill, or even of a fountain pen, 
 insisting, however, if he was to use the latter, that it 
 should be of the best. 
 
 The paper upon which he wrote the work that remains 
 to us was the ordinary ruled foolscap of commerce ; but 
 this again he regarded as quite unimportant. It was 
 the matter of what he wrote that concerned him, not (as 
 is so often the case with lesser men) the mere accidents 
 of pen or paper. 
 
 I remember little else of moment with regard to his 
 way of writing, but I make no doubt that these details 
 will not be without their interest ; for the personal habits 
 of a great man have a charm of their own. I read once 
 that the sum of fifty pounds was paid for the pen of 
 Charles Dickens. I wonder what would be offered for 
 a similar sacred relic, of a man more obscure, but in- 
 directly of far greater influence; a relic which I keep 
 by me with the greatest reverence, which I do not use 
 myself, however much at a loss I may be for pen or 
 pencil, and with which I never, upon any account, allow 
 the children to play. 
 
 But I must draw to a close, or I should merit the 
 reproach of lapsing into a sentimental peroration, and 
 be told that I am myself indulging in that rhetoric which 
 Lambkin so severely condemned.
 
 IV 
 LAMBKIN'S ESSAY ON "SUCCESS" 
 
 ON '* SUCCESS " : ITS CAUSES AND RESULTS 
 
 Difficulty of Subject. In approaching a problem of 
 this nature, with all its anomalies and analogues, we are 
 at once struck by the difficulty of conditioning any 
 accurate estimate of the factors of the solution of the 
 difficulty which is latent in the very terms of the above 
 question. We shall do well, perhaps, however, to clearly 
 differentiate from its fellows the proposition we have to 
 deal with, and similarly as an inception of our analysis 
 to permanently fix the definitions and terms we shall be 
 talking of, with, and by. 
 
 Definition of Success, Success may be defined as the 
 Successful Consummation of an Attempt or more shortly 
 as the Realisation of an imagined Good, and as it im- 
 plies Desire or the Wish for a thing, and at the same 
 time action or the attempt to get at a thing,* we might 
 look at Success from yet another point of view and say 
 that Success is the realisation of Desire though action. 
 Indeed this last definition seems on the whole to be the 
 best ; but it is evident that in this, as in all other matters, 
 
 * Lambkin resolutely refused to define Happiness when 
 pressed to do so by a pupil in June, 1881 : in fact, his hatred 
 of definitions was so well known as to earn him the good- 
 humoured nick-name of " the Sloucher " among the wilder 
 young scholars. 
 
 196
 
 LAMBKIN'S ESSAY ON "SUCCESS" 197 
 
 it is impossible to arrive at perfection, and our safest 
 definition will be that which is found to be on the whole 
 most approximately the average mean* of many hun- 
 dreds that might be virtually constructed to more or less 
 accurately express the idea we have undertaken to do. 
 
 So far then it is evident that while we may have a 
 fairly definite subjective visual concept of what Success 
 is, we shall never be able to convey to others in so many 
 words exactly what our idea may be. 
 
 " What am I ? 
 
 An infant crying for the light 
 That has no language but a cry." 
 
 Method of dealing with Problem. It is, however, of 
 more practical importance nevertheless, to arrive at some 
 method or other by which we can in the long run attack 
 the very serious problem presented to us. Our best 
 chance of arriving at any solution will lie in attempting 
 to give objective form to what it is we have to do with. 
 For this purpose we will first of all divide all actions 
 into (tf) Successful and (1) Non-successful t actions. 
 These two categories are at once mutually exclusive and 
 collectively universal. Nothing of which Success can 
 be truly predicated, can at the same time be called with 
 any approach to accuracy Unsuccessful ; and similarly 
 if an action finally result in Non-success, it is quite 
 evident that to speak of its "Success" would be to 
 trifle with words and to throw dust into our own eyes, 
 
 * 
 
 f This was the first historical example of Lambkin's 
 acquaintance with Hebrew a knowledge which he later 
 turned to such great account in his attack on the pseudo- 
 Johannes.
 
 198 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 which is a fatal error in any case. We have then these 
 two primary categories : what is true of one will, with 
 certain reservations, be untrue of the other, in most 
 cases (we will come to that later) and vice-vend. 
 
 (1) Success. 
 
 (2) Non-success. 
 
 First great Difficulty. But here we are met at the 
 outset of our examination by a difficulty of enormous 
 dimensions. There is not one success ; there are many. 
 There is the success of the Philosopher, of the Scientist, 
 of the Politician, of the Argument, of the Commanding 
 Officer, of the Divine, of the mere unthinking Animal 
 appetite, and of others more numerous still. It is 
 evident that with such a vast number of different sub- 
 sidiary categories within our main category it would be 
 impossible to arrive at any absolute conclusions, or to 
 lay down any firm general principle. For the moment 
 we had erected some such fundamental foundation the 
 fair structure would be blown to a thousand atoms by 
 the consideration of some fresh form, aspect, or realisa- 
 tion, of Success which might have escaped our vision, 
 so that where should we be then ? It is therefore most 
 eminently a problem in which we should beware of undue 
 generalisations and hasty dogmatism. We must abandon 
 here as everywhere the immoral and exploded cant of 
 mediaeval deductive methods invented by priests and 
 mummers to enslave the human mind, and confine our- 
 selves to what we absolutely know. Shall we towards 
 the end of this essay truly know anything with regard to 
 Success ? Who can tell ! But at least let us not cheat 
 ourselves with the axioms, affirmations, and dogmas
 
 LAMBKIN'S ESSAY ON "SUCCESS" 199 
 
 which are, in a certain sense, the ruin of so many; let 
 us, if I may use a metaphor, "abandon the a priori for 
 the chiaroscuro." 
 
 Second much greater Difficulty. But if the problem 
 is complex from the great variety of the various kinds of 
 Success, what shall we say of the disturbance introduced 
 by a new aspect of the matter, which we are now about 
 to allude to ! Aye ! What indeed ! An aspect so 
 widespread in its consequences, so momentous and so 
 fraught with menace to all philosophy, so big with 
 portent, and of such threatening aspect to humanity 
 itself, that we hesitate even to bring it forward !* 
 Success is not always Success : Non-success (or Failure) 
 is an aspect of Success, and vice-versa. This apparent 
 paradox will be seen to be true on a little consideration. 
 For " Success " in any one case involves the " Failure " 
 or " Non-success " of its opposite or correlative. Thus, 
 if we bet ten pounds with one of our friends our 
 "Success" would be his "Non-success," and vice- 
 versa, collaterally. Again, if we desire to fail in a 
 matter (e.g., any man would hope to fail in being 
 hanged t), then to succeed is to fail, and to fail is to 
 succeed, and our successful failure would fail were we 
 to happen upon a disastrous success ! And note that 
 the very same act, not this, that, or another, but THE 
 VERY SAME, is (according to the way we look at it) a 
 "successful" or an "unsuccessful" act. Success 
 
 * It is the passage that follows which made so startling an 
 impression on the examiners. At that time young Lambkin 
 was almost alone in holding the views which have since, 
 through the Fellows of Colleges who may be newspaper men 
 or colonial governors, influenced the whole world. 
 
 t Jocular.
 
 200 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 therefore not only may be, but must be i allure, and 
 the two categories upon which we had built such high 
 hopes have disappeared for ever ! 
 
 Solemn Considerations consequent upon this. Terrible 
 thought ! A thing can be at once itself and not itself 
 nay its own opposite ! The mind reels, and the frail 
 human vision peering over the immense gulf of meta- 
 physical infinity is lost in a cry for mercy and trembles 
 on the threshold of the unseen ! What visions of horror 
 and madness may not be reserved for the too daring soul 
 which has presumed to knock at the Doors of Silence ! 
 Let us learn from the incomprehensible how small and 
 weak a thing is man ! 
 
 A. more Cheerful View. But it would ill-befit the 
 philosopher to abandon his effort because of a kind of a 
 check or two at the start. The great hand of Time 
 shouts ever " onward " ; and even if we cannot discover 
 the Absolute in the limits of this essay, we may rise 
 from the ashes of our tears to better and happier things. 
 
 The Beginning of a Solution. A light seems to dawn 
 on us. We shall not arrive at the full day but we shall 
 see " in a glass darkly " what, in the final end of our 
 development, may perhaps be more clearly revealed to 
 us. It is evident that we have been dealing with a 
 relative. How things so apparently absolute as hanging 
 or betting can be in any true sense relative we cannot 
 tell, because we cannot conceive the majestic whole of 
 which Success and Failure, plus and minus, up and 
 down, yes and no, truth and lies, are but as the glitter- 
 ing facets of a diamond borne upon the finger of some 
 titled and wealthy person. 
 
 Our error came from foolish self -sufficiency and
 
 LAMBKIN'S ESSAY ON "SUCCESS" 201 
 
 pride. We thought (forsooth) that our mere human 
 conceptions of contradiction were real. It has been 
 granted to us (though we are but human still) to discover 
 our error there is no hot or cold, no light or dark, and 
 no good or evil, all are, in a certain sense, and with 
 certain limitations (if I may so express myself) the 
 Aspects 
 
 At this point the bell rang and the papers had to be 
 delivered up. Lambkin could not let his work go, 
 however, without adding a few words to show what he 
 might have done had time allowed. He wrote : 
 
 " No Time. Had intended examples Success, 
 Academic, Acrobatic, Agricultural, Aristocratic, Bacillic 
 . . . Yaroslavic, Zenobidic, etc. Historical cases 
 examined, Biggar's view, H. Unity, Univ. Conscious- 
 ness, Amphodunissa,* Setxm *^-^.." 
 
 * The MS. is here almost illegible. 

 
 LAMBKIN ON "SLEEP" 
 
 [7 his little gem was written for tke great Monograph on 
 " Being," which Lambkin never lived to complete. It was 
 included, however, in his little volume of essays entitled 
 " Rictus Almae Matris." The careful footnotes, the fund of 
 information, and the scholarly accuracy of the whole sketch 
 are an example (alas! the only one] of what his full work 
 would have been had he brought it to a conclusion. It is an 
 admirable example of his manner in maturer years.] 
 
 IN Sleep our faculties lie dormant.* We perceive 
 nothing or almost nothing of our surroundings; and 
 the deeper our slumber the more absolute is the barrier 
 between ourselves and the outer world. The causes of 
 this ' ' Cessation of Consciousness ' ' (as it has been 
 admirably called by Professor M'0bvy)t lie hidden 
 from our most profound physiologists. It was once my 
 privilege to meet the master of physical science who has 
 rendered famous the University of Kreigenswald, J and 
 I asked him what in his opinion was the cause of sleep. 
 He answered, with that reverence which is the glory of 
 
 * The very word " dormant " comes from the Latin for 
 " sleeping." 
 
 t I knew Professor M'O. in the sixties. He was a charm- 
 ing and cultured Scotchman, with a thorough mastery of the 
 English tongue. 
 
 J Dr. von Lieber-Augustin. I knew him well. He was a 
 charming and cultured German. 
 
 202
 
 LAMBKIN ON "SLEEP" 203 
 
 the Teutonic mind, "It is in the dear secret of the All- 
 wise Nature-mother preserved." I have never forgotten 
 those wise and weighty words.* 
 
 Perhaps the nearest guess as to the nature of Sleep is 
 to be discovered in the lectures of a brilliant but some- 
 times over-daring young scholar whom we all applaud 
 in the chair of Psychology. " Sleep " (he says) " is the 
 direct product of Brain Somnolence, which in its turn is 
 the result of the need for Repose that every organism 
 must experience after any specialised exertion." I was 
 present when this sentence was delivered, and I am not 
 ashamed to add that I was one of those who heartily 
 cheered the young speaker. I 
 
 We may assert, then, that Science has nearly con- 
 quered this last stronghold of ignorance and super- 
 stition.' J 
 
 As to the Muses, we know well that Sleep has been 
 their favourite theme for ages. With the exception of 
 Catullus (whose verses have been greatly over-rated, and 
 who is always talking of people lying awake at night), 
 all the ancients have mentioned and praised this inno- 
 cent pastime. Everyone who has done Greats will 
 remember the beautiful passage in Lucretius, but 
 perhaps that in Sidonius Apollinaris, the highly 
 
 * How different from the cynical ribaldry of Voltaire. 
 
 t Mr. Buffin. I know him well. His uncle is Lord Glen- 
 altamont, one of the most charming and cultured of our new 
 peers. 
 
 t See especially " Hypnotism," being the researches of the 
 Research Society (xiv. vols., London, 1893), and " Supersti- 
 tions of the Past, especially the belief in the Influence of Sleep 
 upon Spells," by Dr. Beradini. Translated by Mrs. Blue. 
 (London : Tooby and Co., 1895.) 
 
 Bk. I. or Bk. IV.
 
 204 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 polished Bishop of Gaul, is less well known.* To turn 
 to our own literature, the sonnet beginning " To die, to 
 sleep," etc.,t must be noted, and above all, the glorious 
 lines in which Wordsworth reaches his noblest level, 
 beginning 
 
 " It is a pleasant thing to go to sleep !" 
 
 lines which, for my part, I can never read without 
 catching some of their magical drowsy influence. J 
 
 All great men have slept. George III. frequently 
 slept, and that great and good man Wycliffe was in 
 the habit of reading his Scriptural translations and his 
 own sermons nightly to produce the desired effect. || 
 The Duke of Wellington (whom my father used to call 
 " The Iron Duke ") slept on a little bedstead no larger 
 than a common man's. 
 
 As for the various positions in which one may sleep, 
 I treat of them in my little book of Latin Prose for 
 Schools, which is coming out next year.1I 
 
 * " Amo dormire. Sed nunquam dormio post nonas horas 
 nam episcopus sum et volo dare bonum exemplum fidelibus." 
 App. Sid. Epistol., Bk. III., Epist. 26. (Libermach's edi- 
 tion. Berlin, 1875.) It has the true ring of the fifth century. 
 
 t So Her r irk, in his famous epigram on Buggins. A learned 
 prelate of my acquaintance would frequently quote this. 
 
 J The same lines occur in several other poets. Notably 
 Tupper and Montgomery. 
 
 See " Private Memoirs of the Court of Geo. III. and the 
 Regent," by Mrs. Fitz-H 1. 
 
 II See further, The Morning Star of England, in " Stirrers 
 of the Nations Series," by the Rev. H. Turmsey, M.A. Also 
 Foes and Friends of John of Gaunt, by Miss Matchkin. 
 
 \ " Latin Proses," js. 6d. net. Jason and Co., Piccadilly.
 
 VI 
 
 LAMBKIN'S ADVICE TO FRESHMEN 
 
 MR. LAMBKIN possessed among other great and 
 gracious qualities the habit of writing to his nephew, 
 Thomas Ezekiel Lambkin,* who entered the college as 
 an undergraduate when his uncle was some four years 
 a Fellow. Of many such communications he valued 
 especially this which I print below, on account of the 
 curious and pathetic circumstances which surrounded it. 
 Some months after Thomas had been given his two 
 groups and had left the University, Mr. Lambkin was 
 looking over some books in a second-hand bookshop not 
 with the intention of purchasing so much as to improve 
 the mind. It was a favourite habit of his, and as he 
 was deeply engaged in a powerful romance written under 
 the pseudonym of " Marie Corel li "t there dropped 
 from its pages the letter which he had sent so many 
 years before. It lay in its original envelope unopened, 
 and on turning to the flyleaf he saw the name of his 
 nephew written. It had once been his ! The boy had 
 so treasured the little missive as to place it in his 
 favourite book ! 
 
 * Now doing his duty to the Empire nobly as a cattle-man 
 in Minnesota. 
 
 f Everyone will remember the striking article on this author 
 in The Christian Home for July, 1886. It was from Lambkin's 
 pen. 
 
 205
 
 zo6 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 Lambkin was so justly touched by the incident as to 
 purchase the volume, asking that the price might be 
 entered to his account, which was not then of any long 
 standing. The letter he docketed " to be published 
 after my death." And I obey the wishes of my revered 
 friend : 
 
 " MY DEAR THOMAS, 
 
 " Here you are at last in Oxford, and at Burford, 
 ' a Burford Man. ' How proud your mother must be 
 and even your father, whom I well remember saying 
 that ' if he were not an accountant, he would rather be 
 a Fellow of Burford than anything else on earth. ' But 
 it was not to be. 
 
 " The life you are entering is very different from that 
 which you have left behind. When you were at school 
 you were under a strict discipline, you were compelled 
 to study the classics and to play at various games. 
 Cleanliness and truthfulness were enforced by punish- 
 ment, while the most instinctive habits of decency and 
 good manners could only be acquired at the expense of 
 continual application. In a word, ' you were a child 
 and thought as a child.' 
 
 " Now all that is changed, you are free (within 
 limits) to follow your own devices, to make or mar 
 yourself. But if you use Oxford aright she will make 
 you as she has made so many of your kind a perfect 
 gentleman. 
 
 " But enough of these generalities. It is time to turn 
 to one or two definite bits of advice which I hope you 
 will receive in the right spirit. My dear boy, I want 
 you to lay your hand in mine while I speak to you, not
 
 LAMBKIN'S ADVICE TO FRESHMEN 207 
 
 as an uncle, but rather as an elder brother. Promise me 
 three things. First, never to gamble in any form; 
 secondly, never to drink a single glass of wine after 
 dinner; thirdly, never to purchase anything without 
 paying for it in cash. If you will make such strict 
 rules for yourself and keep them religiously you will 
 find after years of constant effort a certain result 
 developing (as it were), you will discover with delight 
 that your character is formed ; that you have neither won 
 nor lost money at hazards, that you have never got 
 drunk of an evening, and that you have no debts. Of 
 the first two I can only say that they are questions of 
 morality on which we all may, and all do, differ. But 
 the third is of a vital and practical importance. Occa- 
 sional drunkenness is a matter for private judgment, its 
 Tightness or wrongness depends upon our ethical system ; 
 but debt is fatal to any hope of public success. 
 
 " I hesitate a little to mention one further point; but 
 may I say it? will you do your best to avoid 
 drinking neat spirits in the early morning especially 
 Brandy? Of course a Governor and Tutor, whatever 
 his abilities, gets removed in his sympathies from the 
 younger men.* The habit may have died out, and if 
 so I will say no more, but in my time it was the ruin of 
 many a fair young life. 
 
 " Now as to your day and its order. First, rise 
 briskly when you are called, and into your cold bath, 
 you young dog'.f No shilly-shally; into it. Don't 
 splash the water about in a miserable attempt to deceive 
 
 * Lambkin was, when he wrote this letter, fully twenty-six 
 years of age. 
 t Only a playful term of course.
 
 2o8 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 your scout, but take an Honest British Cold Bath like a 
 man. Soap should never be used save on the hands and 
 neck. As to hot baths, never ask for them in College, 
 it would give great trouble, and it is much better to take 
 one in the Town for a shilling ; nothing is more refresh- 
 ing than a good hot bath in the Winter Term. 
 
 " Next you go out and ' keep ' a Mosque, Synagogue, 
 or Meeting of the Brethren, though if you can agree 
 with the system it is far better to go to your College 
 Chapel ; it puts a man right with his superiors and you 
 obey the Apostolic injunction.* 
 
 " Then comes your breakfast. Eat as much as you 
 can; it is the foundation of a good day's work in the 
 Vineyard. But what is this ? a note from your Tutor. 
 Off you go at the appointed time, and as you may be 
 somewhat nervous and diffident I will give you a little 
 Paradigm, t as it were, of a Freshman meeting his 
 Tutor for the first time. 
 
 " [The Student enters, and as he is half-way through 
 the door says:] 
 
 "Sr. : Good-morning ! Have you noticed what the 
 papers say about [Here mention some prominent sub- 
 ject of the day. ] 
 
 " [The Tutor does not answer but goes on writing in 
 a little book; at last he looks up and says:] 
 
 " TUT. : Pray, what is your name? 
 
 " ST. : M. or N. 
 
 " TUT. : What have you read before coming up, 
 Mr. ? 
 
 * A considerable discussion has arisen as to the meaning of 
 this. 
 f A jocular allusion. 

 
 LAMBKIN'S ADVICE TO FRESHMEN 209 
 
 "ST. : The existing Latin authors from Ennius to 
 Sidonius Appollinaris, with their fragments. The Greek 
 from Sappho to Origen including Bacchylides. 
 
 [The Tutor makes a note of this and resumes . . .] 
 
 " TUT. : Have you read the Gospels? 
 
 " ST. : No, Sir. 
 
 " TUT. : You must read two of them as soon as 
 possible in the Greek, as it is necessary to the passing 
 of Divinity, unless indeed you prefer the beautiful work 
 of Plato. Come at ten to-morrow. Good -morning. 
 
 ''ST. : I am not accustomed to being spoken to in 
 that fashion. 
 
 [The Tutor will turn to some other Student, and the 
 -first Student will leave the room.] 
 
 " I have little more to say. You will soon learn the 
 customs of the place, and no words of mine can 
 efficiently warn you as experience will. Put on a black 
 coat before Hall, and prepare for that meal with neat- 
 ness, but with no extravagant display. Do not wear 
 your cap and gown in the afternoon, do not show an 
 exaggerated respect to the younger fellows (except the 
 Chaplain), on the one hand, nor a silly contempt for the 
 older Dons upon the other. The first line of conduct is 
 that of a timid and uncertain mind ; it is of no profit 
 for future advancement, and draws down upon one the 
 contempt of all. The second is calculated to annoy as 
 fine a body of men as any in England, and seriously to 
 affect your reputation in Society. 
 
 " You will find in every college some club which 
 contains the wealthier undergraduates and those of 
 prominent position. Join it if possible at once before
 
 3io LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 you are known. At its weekly meeting speak soberly, 
 but not pompously. Enliven your remarks with occa- 
 sional flashes of humour, but do not trench upon the 
 ribald nor pass the boundary of right-reason. Such 
 excesses may provoke a momentary laugh, but they 
 ultimately destroy all respect for one's character. 
 Remember Lot's wife ! 
 
 " You will row, of course, and as you rush down to 
 the river after a hurried lunch and dash up to do a 
 short bit of reading before Hall, your face will glow 
 with satisfaction at the thought that every day of your 
 life will be so occupied for four years. 
 
 " Of the grosser and lower evils I need not warn you : 
 you will not give money to beggars in the street, nor 
 lend it to your friends. You will not continually expose 
 your private thoughts, nor open your heart to every 
 comer in the vulgar enthusiasm of some whom you may 
 meet. No, my dear Ezekiel, it would be unworthy of 
 your name, and I know you too well, to fear such things 
 of you. You are a Gentleman, and that you may, like 
 a gentleman, be always at your ease, courteous on 
 occasion, but familiar never, is the earnest prayer of 
 
 " JOSIAH LAMBKIN."
 
 VII 
 
 LAMBKIN'S LECTURE ON "RIGHT" 
 
 OF the effects of Mr. Lambkin's lectures, the greatest 
 and (I venture to think) the most permanent are those 
 that followed from his course on Ethics. The late 
 Dean of Heaving-on-the-Marsh (the Honourable Albert 
 Nathan-Merivale, the first name adopted from his 
 property in Rutland) told me upon one occasion that 
 he owed the direction of his mind to those lectures 
 (under Providence) more than to any other lectures he 
 could remember. 
 
 Very much the same idea was conveyed to me, more 
 or less, by the Bishop of Humbury, who turned to me 
 in hall, only a year ago, with a peculiar look in his 
 eyes, and (as I had mentioned Lambkin's name) said 
 suddenly, like a man who struggles with an emotion :* 
 " Lambkin( !)t . . did not he give lectures in your 
 hall ... on Ethics?" "Some," I replied, "were 
 given in the Hall, others in Lecture Room No. 2 over 
 the glory-hole." His lordship said nothing, but there 
 was a world of thought and reminiscence in his eyes. 
 May we not knowing his lordship's difficulties in 
 matters of belief, and his final victory ascribe some- 
 thing of this progressive and salutary influence to my 
 dear friend? 
 
 * " Sicut ut homo qui " my readers will fill in the rest, 
 t The note of exclamation is my own. 
 an
 
 2i2 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 ON "RIGHT" 
 
 [Being Lecture V. in a Course of Eight, delivered in the 
 Autumn Term of 1878.] 
 
 We have now proceeded for a considerable distance 
 in our journey towards the Solution. Of eight lectures, 
 of which I had proposed to make so many milestones on 
 the road, the fifth is reached, and now we are in 
 measurable distance of the Great Answer; the Under- 
 standing of the Relations of the Particular to the 
 Universal. 
 
 It is an easy, though a profitable task to wander in 
 what the late Sir Reginald Hawke once called in a fine 
 phrase "the flowery meads and bosky dells of Positive 
 Knowledge." It is in the essence of any modern 
 method of inquiry that we should be first sure of our 
 facts, and it is on this account that all philosophical 
 research worthy of the name must begin with the 
 physical sciences. For the last few weeks I have illus- 
 trated my lectures with chemical experiments and occa- 
 sionally with large coloured diagrams, which, especially 
 to young people like yourselves have done not a little 
 to enliven what might at first appear a very dull subject. 
 It is therefore with happy, hopeful hearts, with spark- 
 ling eyes and eager appetite that we leave the physical 
 entry -hall of knowledge to approach the delicious feast 
 of metaphysics. 
 
 But here a difficulty confronts us. So far we have 
 followed an historical development. We have studied 
 the actions of savages and the gestures of young children ; 
 we have inquired concerning the habits of sleep-walkers, 
 and have drawn our conclusions from the attitudes
 
 LAMBKIN'S LECTURE ON "RIGHT' 213 
 
 adopted in special manias. So far, then, we have been 
 on safe ground. We have proceeded from the known 
 to the unknown, and we have correlated Psychology, 
 Sociology, Anatomy, Morphology, Physiology, Geo- 
 graphy, and Theology (here Mr. Darkin of Vast, who 
 had been ailing a long time, was carried out in a faint; 
 Mr. Lambkin, being short-sighted, did not fully seize 
 what had happened, and thinking that certain of his 
 audience were leaving the Hall without permission, he 
 became as nearly angry as was possible to such a man. 
 He made a short speech on the decay of manners, and 
 fell into several bitter epigrams. It is only just to say 
 that, on learning the occasion of the interruption, he 
 regretted the expression " strong meat for babes " which 
 had escaped him at the time). 
 
 So far so good. But there is something more. No 
 one can proceed indefinitely in the study of Ethics 
 without coming, sooner or later, upon the Conventional 
 conception of Right. I do not mean that this concep- 
 tion has any philosophic value. I should be the last to 
 lay down for it those futile, empirical, and dogmatic 
 foundations which may satisfy narrow, deductive minds. 
 But there it is, and as practical men with it we must 
 deal. What is Right? Whence proceeds this curious 
 conglomeration of idealism, mysticism, empiricism, and 
 fanaticism to which the name has been given ? 
 
 It is impossible to say. It is the duty of the lecturer 
 to set forth the scheme of truth : to make (as it were) a 
 map or plan of Epistemology. He is not concerned to 
 demonstrate a point; he is not bound to dispute the 
 attitude of opponents. Let them fall of their own 
 weight (Ruant mole sua). It is mine to show that things
 
 ai 4 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 may be thus or thus, and I will most steadily refuse to 
 be drawn into sterile argument and profitless discussion 
 with mere affirmations. 
 
 " The involute of progression is the subconscious 
 evolution of the particular function." No close 
 reasoner will deny this. It is the final summing up of 
 all that is meant by Development. It is the root formula 
 of the nineteenth century that is now, alas ! drawing to 
 a close under our very eyes. Now to such a funda- 
 mental proposition I add a second. " The sentiment of 
 right is the inversion of the subconscious function in its 
 relation to the indeterminate ego." This also I take to 
 be admitted by all European philosophers in Germany. 
 Now I will not go so far as to say that a major premiss 
 when it is absolutely sound, followed by a minor equally 
 sound, leads to a sure conclusion. God fulfils himself 
 in many ways, and there are more things in heaven and 
 earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. 
 But I take this tentatively : that if these two propo- 
 sitions are true (and we have the word of Herr 
 Waldteufel,* who lives in the Woodstock Road, that 
 it is true) then it follows conclusively that no certainty 
 can be arrived at in these matters. I would especially 
 recommend you on this point (here Mr. Lambkin changed 
 his lecturing voice for a species of conversational, inter- 
 ested, and familiar tone) to read the essay by the late 
 Dr. Barton in Shots at the Probable : you will also find 
 the third chapter of Mr. Mendellsohn's History of the 
 Soul very useful. Remember also, by the way, to con- 
 sult the footnote on p. 343, of Renan's Anti-Christ. 
 
 * Author of " Prussian Morals."
 
 LAMBKIN'S LECTURE ON "RIGHT" 215 
 
 The Master of St. Dives' Little Journeys in the Obvious 
 is light and amusing, but instructive in its way. 
 
 There is a kind of attitude (this was Lambkin's 
 peroration, and he was justly -proud of it) which destroys 
 nothing but creates much : which transforms without 
 metamorphosis, and which says " look at this, I have 
 found truth!" but which dares not say "look away 
 from that it is untrue." 
 
 Such is our aim. Let us make without unmaking and 
 in this difficult question of the origin of Right, the 
 grand old Anglo-Saxon sense of "Ought," let us 
 humbly adopt as logicians, but grimly pursue as 
 practical men some such maxim as what follows : 
 
 ' ' Right came from nothing, it means nothing, it leads 
 to nothing ; with it we are nothing, but without it we are 
 worse than nothing."* 
 
 Next Thursday I shall deal with morality in inter- 
 national relations. 
 
 * These are almost the exact words that appeared in the 
 subsequent and over-rated book of Theophile Gautier : 
 " Rien ne mene a rien cependant tout arrive."
 
 VIII 
 
 LAMBKIN'S SPECIAL CORRE- 
 SPONDENCE 
 
 LAMBKIN was almost the first of that great band of 
 Oxford Fellows who go as special correspondents for 
 Newspapers to places of difficulty and even of danger. 
 On the advantages of this system he would often dilate, 
 and he was glad to see, as he grew to be an older, a 
 wealthier, and a wiser man, that others were treading 
 in his footsteps. " The younger men," he would say, 
 ' ' have noticed what perhaps I was the first to see, that 
 the Press is a Power, and that men who are paid to 
 educate should not be ashamed to be paid for any form 
 of education." He was, however, astonished to see how 
 rapidly the letters of a correspondent could now be 
 issued as a book, and on finding that such publications 
 were arranged for separately with the publishers, and 
 were not the property of the Newspapers, he expressed 
 himself with a just warmth in condemnation of such 
 a trick. 
 
 " Sir " (said he to the Chaplain), " in my young days 
 we should have scorned to have faked up work, well 
 done for a particular object, in a new suit for the sake 
 of wealth " ; and I owe it to Lambkin's memory to say 
 that he did not make a penny by his " Diary on the 
 Deep,"* in which he collected towards the end of his 
 
 * It was by my suggestion (quorum pars parva fui), that 
 was added the motto " They that go down to the sea in ships, 
 they see the wonders of the Lord.'' 
 
 216
 
 SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE 217 
 
 life his various letters written to the Newspapers, and 
 mostly composed at sea. 
 
 The occasion which produced the following letter was 
 the abominable suppression by Italian troops of the 
 Catholic Riots at Rome in 1873. Englishmen of all 
 parties had been stirred to a great indignation at the 
 news of the atrocities. " As a nation" (to quote my 
 dear friend) " we are slow to anger, but our anger is 
 terrible." And such was indeed the case. 
 
 A great meeting was held at Hampstead, in which 
 Mr. Ram made his famous speech. "This is not a 
 question of religion or of nationality but of manhood " 
 (he had said), " and if we do not give our sympathy 
 freely, if we do not send out correspondents to inform 
 us of the truth, if we do not meet in public and protest, 
 if we do not write and speak and read till our strength 
 be exhausted, then is England no longer the England of 
 Cromwell and of Peel." 
 
 Such public emotion could not fail to reach Lambkin. 
 I remember his coming to me one night into my rooms 
 and saying " George " (for my name is George), " I had 
 to-day a letter from Mr. Solomon's paper The Sunday 
 Englishman. They want me to go and report on this 
 infamous matter, and I will go. Do not attempt to 
 dissuade me. I shall return if God spares my life 
 before the end of the vacation. The offer is most 
 advantageous in every way : I mean to England, to the 
 cause of justice, and to that freedom of thought without 
 which there is no true religion. For, understand me, 
 that though these poor wretches are Roman Catholics, 
 I hold that every man should have justice, and my blood 
 boils within me."
 
 2i8 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 He left me with a parting grip of the hand, promis- 
 ing to bring me back photographs from the Museum at 
 Naples. 
 
 If the letter that follows appears to be lacking in any 
 full account of the Italian army and its infamies, if it 
 is observed to be meagre and jejune on the whole subject 
 of the Riots, that is to be explained by the simple facts 
 that follow. 
 
 When Lambkin sailed, the British Fleet had already 
 occupied a deep and commodious harbour on the coast 
 of Apulia, and public irritation was at its height; but 
 by the time he landed the Quirinal had been forced to 
 an apology, the Vatican had received monetary com- 
 pensation, and the Piedmontese troops had been com- 
 pelled to evacuate Rome. 
 
 He therefore found upon landing at Leghorn* a 
 telegram from the newspaper, saying that his services 
 were not required, but that the monetary engagements 
 entered into by the proprietors would be strictly 
 adhered to. 
 
 Partly pleased, partly disappointed, Lambkin re- 
 turned to Oxford, taking sketches on the way from 
 various artists whom he found willing to sell their 
 productions. These he later hung round his room, not 
 on nails (which as he very properly said, defaced the 
 wall), but from a rail ; their colours are bright and 
 pleasing. He also brought me the photographs I asked 
 him for, and they now hang in my bedroom. 
 
 This summary must account for the paucity of the 
 notes that follow, and the fact that they were never 
 published. 
 
 * Livomo in Italian.
 
 SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE 219 
 
 [There was some little doubt as to whether certain 
 strictures on the First Mate in Mr. Lambkin's letters 
 did not affect one of our best families. Until I could 
 make certain whether the Estate should be credited with 
 a receipt on this account or debited with a loss I hesi- 
 tated to publish. Mr. Lambkin left no heirs, but he 
 would have been the first to regret (were he alive) any 
 diminution of his small fortune. 
 
 I am glad to say that it has been satisfactorily settled, 
 and that while all parties have gained none have lost by 
 the settlement.] 
 
 THE LETTERS 
 
 S.S. Borgia, GRAVESEND, 
 
 Sunday, Se-pt. 2-jth, 1873. 
 
 Whatever scruples I might have had in sending off 
 my first letter before I had left the Thames, and upon 
 such a day, are dissipated by the emotions to which the 
 scenes I have just passed through give rise.* 
 
 What can be more marvellous than this historic river ! 
 All is dark, save where the electric light on shore, the 
 river-boats' lanterns on the water, the gas-lamps and 
 the great glare of the townt dispel the gloom. And 
 over the river itself, the old Tamesis, a profound silence 
 reigns, broken only by the whistling of the tugs, the 
 
 * Or " have given rise." Myself and my colleagues 
 attempted (or had attempted) to determine this point. But 
 there can be little doubt that the version we arrived at is right 
 both in grammar and in fact. The MS. is confused. 
 
 t Though posted in Gravesend this letter appears to have 
 been written between London and the Estuary. Some say in 
 Dead Man's Reach.
 
 220 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 hoarse cries of the bargemen and the merry banjo-party 
 under the awning of our ship. All is still, noiseless, 
 and soundless : a profound silence broods over the 
 mighty waters. It is night. 
 
 It is night and silent ! Silence and night ! The two 
 primeval things ! I wonder whether it has ever occurred 
 to the readers of the Sunday Englishman to travel over 
 the great waters, or to observe in their quiet homes the 
 marvellous silence of the night? Would they know of 
 what my thoughts were full? They were full of those 
 poor Romans, insulted, questioned, and disturbed by a 
 brutal soldiery, and I thought of this : that we who go 
 out on a peculiarly pacific mission, who have only to 
 write while others wield the sword, we also do our part. 
 Pray heaven the time may soon come when an English 
 Protectorate shall be declared over Rome and the hate- 
 ful rule of the Lombard foreigners shall cease.* 
 
 There is for anyone of the old viking blood a kind 
 of fascination in the sea. The screw is modern, but its 
 vibration is the very movement of the wild white oars 
 that brought the Northmen I to the field of Senlac.J 
 Now I know how we have dared and done all. I could 
 conquer Sicily to-night. 
 
 As I paced the deck, an officer passed and slapped 
 me heartily on the shoulder. It was the First Mate. A 
 rough diamond but a diamond none the less. He asked 
 me where I was bound to. I said Leghorn. He then 
 asked me if I had all I needed for the voyage. It seems 
 that I had strayed on to the part of the deck reserved 
 
 * This passage was set for the Latin Prose in the Burford 
 Scholarship of 1875. It was won by Mr. Hurt, now Chaplain 
 of the Wainmakers' Guild. 
 
 | Norman. J Hastings.
 
 SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE 221 
 
 for the second-class passengers. I informed him of his 
 error. He laughed heartily and said we shouldn't 
 quarrel about that. I said his ship seemed to be a 
 Saucy Lass. He answered, " That's all right," asked 
 me if I played "Turn-up Jack," and left me. It is 
 upon men like this that the greatness of England is 
 founded. 
 
 Well, I will "turn in" and "go below" for my 
 watch; "you gentlemen of England" who read the 
 Sunday Englishman, you little know what life is like 
 on the high seas ; but we are one, I think, when it comes 
 to the love of blue water. 
 
 Posted at Dover, Monday, Sept. 28, 1873. 
 
 We have dropped the pilot. I have nothing in par- 
 ticular to write. There is a kind of monotony about a 
 sea voyage which is very depressing to the spirits. The 
 sea was smooth last night, and yet I awoke this morning 
 with a feeling of un-quiet to which I have long been a 
 stranger, and which should not be present in a healthy 
 man. I fancy the very slight oscillation of the boat has 
 something to do with it, though the lady sitting next to 
 me tells me that one only feels it in steamboats. She 
 said her dear husband had told her it was " the smell of 
 the oil " I hinted that at breakfast one can talk of 
 other things. 
 
 The First Mate sits at the head of our table. I do 
 not know how it is, but there is a lack of social reaction 
 on board a ship. A man is a seaman or a passenger, 
 and there is an end of it. One has no fixed rank, 
 and the wholesome discipline of social pressure seems 
 entirely lost. Thus this morning the First Mate called
 
 222 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 me "The Parson," and I had no way to resent his 
 familiarity. But he meant no harm; he is a sterling 
 fellow. 
 
 After breakfast my mind kept running to this question 
 of the Roman Persecution, and (I know not how) certain 
 phrases kept repeating themselves literally " ad 
 nauseam" in my imagination. They kept pace with 
 the throb of the steamer, an altogether new sensation, 
 and my mind seemed (as my old tutor, Mr. Blurt, would 
 put it) to " work in a circle." The pilot will take this. 
 He is coming over the side. He is not in the least like 
 a sailor, but small and white. He wears a bowler hat, 
 and looks more like a city clerk than anything else. 
 When I asked the First Mate why this was, he answered, 
 " It's the Brains that tell." A very remarkable state- 
 ment, and one full of menace and warning for our 
 mercantile marine. 
 
 * # * * * 
 
 Thursday, Oct. i, 1873. 
 
 I cannot properly describe the freshness and beauty 
 of the sea after a gale. I have not the style of the great 
 masters of English prose, and I lack the faculty of 
 expression which so often accompanies the poetic soul. 
 
 The white curling tips (white horses) come at one if 
 one looks to windward, or if one looks to leeward seem 
 to flee. There is a kind of balminess in the air born of 
 the warm south ; and there is a jollity in the whole ship's 
 company, as Mrs. Burton and her daughters remarked 
 to me this morning. I feel capable of anything. When 
 the First Mate came up to me this morning and tried 
 to bait me with his vulgar chaff I answered roundly,
 
 SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE 223 
 
 " Now, sir, listen to me. I am not seasick, I am not 
 a landlubber, I am on my sea legs again, and I would 
 have you know that I have not a little power to make 
 those who attack me feel the weight of my arm." 
 
 He turned from me thoroughly ashamed, and told a 
 man to swab the decks. The passengers appeared 
 absorbed in their various occupations, but I felt I had 
 ' ' scored a point ' ' and I retired to my cabin. 
 
 My steward told me of a group of rocks off the 
 Spanish coast which we are approaching. He said they 
 were called " The Graveyard." If a man can turn his 
 mind to the Universal Consciousness and to a Final 
 Purpose all foolish fears will fall into a secondary 
 plane. I will not do myself the injustice of saying that 
 1 was affected by the accident, but a lady or child might 
 have been, and surely the ship's servants should be 
 warned not to talk nonsense to passengers who need all 
 their strength for the sea. 
 
 Friday, Oct. 2, 1873. 
 
 To-day I met the Captain. I went up on the bridge 
 to speak to him. I find his name is Arnssen. He has 
 risen from the ranks, his father having been a large 
 haberdasher in Copenhagen and a town councillor. I 
 wish I could say the same of the First Mate, who is the 
 scapegrace son of a great English family, though he 
 seems to feel no shame. Arnssen and I would soon 
 become fast friends were it not that his time is occupied 
 in managing the ship. He is just such an one as makes 
 the strength of our British Mercantile marine. He will 
 often come and walk with me on the deck, on which 
 occasions I give him a cigar, or even sometimes ask him
 
 224 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 to drink wine with me. He tells me it is against the 
 rules for the Captain to offer similar courtesies to his 
 guests, but that if ever I am in Ernskjbldj, near Copen- 
 hagen, and if he is not absent on one of his many 
 voyages, he will gratefully remember and repay my 
 kindness. 
 
 I said to the Captain to-day, putting my hand upon 
 his shoulder, " Sir, may one speak from one's heart?" 
 "Yes," said he, "certainly, and God bless you for 
 your kind thought." " Sir," said I, " you are a strong, 
 silent, God-fearing man and my heart goes out to you 
 no more." He was silent, and went up on the bridge, 
 but when I attempted to follow him, he assured me it 
 was not allowed. 
 
 Later in the day I asked him what he thought of the 
 Roman trouble. He answered, " Oh ! knock their heads 
 together and have done with it." It was a bluff sea- 
 man's answer, but is it not what England would have 
 said in her greatest days ? Is it not the very feeling of 
 a Chatham? 
 
 I no longer speak to the First Mate. But in a few 
 days I shall be able to dismiss the fellow entirely from 
 my memory, so I will not dwell on his insolence. 
 
 LEGHORN, 
 
 Oct. 5, 1873. 
 
 Here is the end of it. I have nothing more to say. 
 I find that the public has no need of my services, and 
 that England has suffered a disastrous rebuff. .The 
 fleet has retreated from Apulia. England let posterity 
 note this has not an inch of ground in all the Italian 
 Peninsula. Well, we are worsted, and we must bide
 
 SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE 225 
 
 our time ; but this I will say : if that insolent young 
 ' fool the First Mate thinks that his family shall protect 
 him he is mistaken. The press is a great power and 
 never greater than where (as in England) a professor of 
 a university or the upper classes write for the papers, 
 and where a rule of anonymity gives talent and position 
 its full weight.* 
 
 * These letters were never printed till now.
 
 IX 
 
 LAMBKIN'S ADDRESS TO THE LEAGUE 
 OF PROGRESS 
 
 EVERYBODY will remember the famous meeting of the 
 Higher Spinsters in 1868; a body hitherto purely 
 voluntary in its organisation, it had undertaken to add 
 to the houses of the poor and wretched the element 
 which reigns in the residential suburbs of our great 
 towns. If Whitechapel is more degraded now than it 
 was thirty years ago we must not altogether disregard 
 the earlier efforts of the Higher Spinsters, they laboured 
 well each in her own sphere and in death they were not 
 divided. 
 
 The moment however which gave their embryonic 
 conceptions an organic form did not sound till this 
 year of 1868. It was in the Conference held at Burford 
 during that summer that, to quote their eloquent circular, 
 " the ideas were mooted and the feeling was voiced 
 which made us what we are." In other words, the 
 Higher Spinsters were merged in the new and greater 
 society of the League of Progress. How much the 
 League of Progress has done, its final recognition by the 
 County Council, the sums paid to its organisers and 
 servants I need not here describe ; suffice it to say that, 
 like all our great movements, it was a spontaneous 
 effort of the upper middle class, that it concerned itself 
 
 226
 
 ADDRESS TO LEAGUE OF PROGRESS 227 
 
 chiefly with the artisans, whom it desired to raise to its 
 own level, and that it has so far succeeded as to now 
 possess forty-three Cloisters in our great towns, each 
 with its Grand Master, Chatelaine, Corporation of the 
 Burghers of Progress and Lay Brothers, the whole 
 supported upon salaries suitable to their social rank and 
 proceeding entirely from voluntary contributions with 
 the exception of that part of the revenue which is drawn 
 from public funds. 
 
 The subject of the Conference, out of which so much 
 was destined to grow, was " The Tertiary Symptoms of 
 Secondary Education among the Poor." 
 
 Views upon this matter were heard from every 
 possible standpoint ; men of varying religious per- 
 suasions from the Scientific Agnostic to the distant 
 Parsee lent breadth and elasticity to the fascinating 
 subject. Its chemical aspect was admirably described 
 (with experiments) by Sir Julius Wobble, the Astronomer 
 Royal, and its theological results by the Reader in 
 Burmesan. 
 
 Lambkin was best known for the simple eloquence in 
 which he could clothe the most difficult and confused 
 conceptions. It was on this account that he was asked 
 to give the Closing Address with which the Proceedings 
 terminated. 
 
 Before reciting it I must detain the reader with one 
 fine anecdote concerning this occasion, a passage worthy 
 of the event and of the man. Lambkin (as I need hardly 
 say) was full of his subject, enthusiastic and absorbed. 
 No thought of gain entered his head, nor was he the 
 kind of man to have applied for payment unless he 
 believed money to be owing to him. Nevertheless it
 
 228 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 would have been impossible to leave unremunerated such 
 work as that which follows. It was decided by the 
 authorities to pay him a sum drawn from the fees which 
 the visitors had paid to visit the College Fish-Ponds, 
 whose mediaeval use in monkish times was explained in 
 popular style by one who shall be nameless, but who 
 gave his services gratuitously. 
 
 After their departure Mr. Large entered Lambkin's 
 room with an envelope, wishing to add a personal 
 courtesy to a pleasant duty, and said : 
 
 " I have great pleasure, my dear Lambkin, in pre- 
 senting you with this Bank Note as a small acknow- 
 ledgment of your services at the Conference." 
 
 Lambkin answered at once with : 
 
 " My dear Large, I shall be really displeased if you 
 estimate that slight performance of a pleasurable task 
 at so high a rate as ten pounds." 
 
 Nor indeed was this the case. For when Lambkin 
 opened the enclosure (having waited with delicate 
 courtesy for his visitor to leave the room) he discovered 
 but five pounds therein. But note what follows 
 Lambkin neither mentioned the matter to a soul, nor 
 passed the least stricture upon Large's future actions, 
 save in those matters where he found his colleague justly 
 to blame : and in the course of the several years during 
 which they continually met, the restraint and self- 
 respect of his character saved him from the use of 
 ignoble weapons whether of pen or tongue. It was a 
 lesson in gentlemanly irony to see my friend take his 
 place above Large at high table in the uneasy days that 
 followed.
 
 ADDRESS TO LEAGUE OF PROGRESS 229 
 
 THE ADDRESS 
 
 MY DEAR FRIENDS, 
 
 I shall attempt to put before you in a few 
 simple, but I hope well-chosen words, the views of a 
 plain man upon the great subject before us to-day. I 
 shall attempt with the greatest care to avoid any per- 
 sonal offence, but I shall not hesitate to use the knife 
 with an unsparing hand, as is indeed the duty of the 
 Pastor whosoever he may be. I remember a late dear 
 friend of mine [who would not wish me to make his 
 name public but whom you will perhaps recognise in the 
 founder and builder of the new Cathedral at Isaacsville 
 in Canada*]. I remember his saying to me with a 
 merry twinkle of the eye that looms only from the free 
 manhood of the west: "Lambkin," said he, "would 
 you know how I made my large fortune in the space of 
 but three months, and how I have attained to such 
 dignity and honour? It was by following this simple 
 maxim which my dear mother t taught me in the rough 
 log-cabinf of my birth : ' Be courteous to all strangers, 
 but familiar with none.' " 
 
 My friends, you are not strangers, nay, on the present 
 
 * The late Hon. John Tupton, the amiable colonial who 
 purchased Marlborough House and made so great a stir in 
 London some years ago. 
 
 t Mrs. Tupton, senior, a woman whose heroic struggles in 
 the face of extreme poverty were a continual commentary on 
 the awful results of our so-called perfected Penal System. 
 
 + There is great doubt upon the exactitude of this. In his 
 lifetime Tupton often spoke of " the poor tenement house in 
 New York where I was born," and in a letter he alludes to 
 " my birth at sea in the steerage of a Liner." 
 
 This was perhaps the origin of a phrase which may be 
 found scattered with profusion throughout Lambkin's works.
 
 2 3 o LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 solemn occasion I think I may call you friends even 
 brethren ! dear brothers and sisters ! But a little bird 
 has told me. . . . (Here a genial smile passed over his 
 face and he drank a draught of pure cold water from a 
 tumbler at his side.) A little bird has told me, I say, 
 that some of you feared a trifle of just harshness, a 
 reprimand perhaps, or a warning note of danger, at the 
 best a doubtful and academic temper as to the future. 
 Fear nothing. I shall pursue a far different course, and 
 however courteous I may be I shall indulge in no 
 familiarities. 
 
 " The Tertiary Symptoms of Secondary Education 
 among the Poor " is a noble phrase and expresses a 
 noble idea. Why the very words are drawn from our 
 Anglo-Saxon mother-tongue deftly mingled with a few 
 expressions borrowed from the old dead language of 
 long-past Greece and Rome. 
 
 What is Education? The derivation of the word 
 answers this question. It is from "e" that is "out 
 of," " duc-o " " I lead," from the root Due to lead, 
 to govern (whence we get so many of our most important 
 words such as " Duke " ; " Duck " = a drake; etc.) and 
 finally the termination " -tio " which corresponds to the 
 English " -ishness. " We may then put the whole phrase 
 in simple language thus, " The threefold Showings of 
 twofold Led -out-of -ishness among the Needy." 
 
 The Needy ! The Poor ! Terrible words ! It has 
 been truly said that we have them always with us. It 
 is one of our peculiar glories in nineteenth -century 
 England, that we of the upper classes have fully recog- 
 nised our heavy responsibility towards our weaker fellow- 
 citizens. Not by Revolution, which is dangerous and
 
 ADDRESS TO LEAGUE OF PROGRESS 231 
 
 vain, not by heroic legislation or hair-brained schemes 
 of universal panaceas, not by frothy Utopias. No ! 
 by solid hard work, by quiet and persistent effort, with 
 the slow invisible tenacity that won the day at Badajoz, 
 we have won this great social victory. And if anyone 
 should ask me for the result I should answer him go 
 to Bolton, go to Manchester, go to Liverpool ; go to 
 Hull or Halifax the answer is there. 
 
 There are many ways in which this good work is 
 proceeding. Life is a gem of many facets. Some of 
 my friends take refuge in Prayer, others have joined the 
 Charity Organisation Society, others again have laboured 
 in a less brilliant but fully as useful a fashion by writing 
 books upon social statistics which command an enormous 
 circulation. You have turned to education, and you 
 have done well. Show me a miner or a stevedore who 
 attends his lectures upon Rossetti, and I will show you 
 a man. Show me his wife or daughter at a cookery 
 school or engaged in fretwork, and I will show you a 
 woman. A man and a woman solemn thought ! 
 
 A noble subject indeed and one to occupy the whole 
 life of a man! This "Education," this " Leading- 
 out -of," is the matter of all our lives here in Oxford 
 except in the vacation.* And what an effect it has ! 
 Let me prove it in a short example. 
 
 At a poor lodging-house in Lafayette, Pa., U.S.A., 
 three well-educated men from New England who had 
 fallen upon evil times were seated at a table surrounded 
 by a couple of ignorant and superstitious Irishmen; 
 these poor untaught creatures, presuming upon their 
 numbers, did not hesitate to call the silent and gentle- 
 
 * Mr. Lambkin did not give the derivation of this word.
 
 252 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 manly unfortunates "Dommed High-faluthing Fules"; 
 but mark the sequel. A fire broke out in the night. 
 The house was full of these Irishmen and of yet more 
 repulsive Italians. Some were consumed by the devour- 
 ing element, others perished in the flames, others again 
 saved their lives by a cowardly flight.* But what of 
 those three from Massachusetts whom better principles 
 had guided in youth and with whom philosophy had 
 replaced the bitter craft of the Priest? They were 
 found my dear friends they were found still seated 
 calmly at the table ; they had not moved ; no passion 
 had blinded them, no panic disturbed : in their charred 
 and blackened features no trace of terror was apparent. 
 Such is the effect, such the glory of what my late master 
 and guide, the Professor of Tautology, used to call the 
 " Principle of the Survival of the Fittest." 
 
 (Applause, which was only checked by a consideration 
 for the respect due to the Sacred edifice.) 
 
 Go forth then ! Again I say go forth ! Go forth ! 
 Go forth ! The time is coming when England will see 
 that your claims to reverence, recognition, and emolu- 
 ment are as great as our own. I repeat it, go forth, and 
 when you have brought the great bulk of families to 
 change their mental standpoint, then indeed you will 
 have transformed the world ! For without the mind the 
 human intellect is nothing. 
 
 * " Alii igni infamiae vitamalii fuga dcderunt." Tacitus, 
 In Omties Caesar es, I. viii. 7
 
 X 
 
 LAMBKIN'S LEADER 
 
 MR. SOLOMON was ever determined to keep the Sunday 
 Englishman at a high level. " We owe it " (he would 
 say) ' ' first to the public who are thereby sacrificed I 
 mean satisfied and to ourselves, who secure thereby a 
 large and increasing circulation. " ["Ourselves" alluded 
 to the shareholders, for the Sunday Englishman was a 
 limited Company, in which the shares (of which Mr. 
 Solomon held the greater number) were distributed in 
 the family; the tiniest toddler of two years old was 
 remembered, and had been presented with a share by his 
 laughing and generous parent.] 
 
 In this laudable effort to keep "abreast of the 
 times" (as he phrased it), the Editor and part Pro- 
 prietor determined to have leaders written by University 
 men, who from their position of vantage enjoy a unique 
 experience in practical matters. He had formed a very 
 high opinion of Lambkin's journalistic capacity from his 
 unpublished letters as a special correspondent. Indeed, 
 he was often heard to say that " a man like him was 
 lost at Oxford, and was born for Fleet Street." He 
 wrote, therefore, to Mr. Lambkin and gave him " Carte 
 Blanche," as one French scholar to another, sending 
 him only the general directions that his leader must be 
 "smart, up-to-date, and with plenty of push," it was 
 to be "neither too long nor too short," and while it 
 
 233
 
 234 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 should be written in an easy familiar tone, there should 
 be little or no seriously offensive matter included. 
 
 Mr. Lambkin was delighted, and when at his request 
 the article had been paid for, he sent in the following : 
 
 THE LEADER 
 
 " The English-Speaking Race has if we except the 
 Dutch, Negro, and Irish elements a marvellous talent 
 for self-government. From the earliest origins of our 
 Anglo-Saxon forefathers to the latest Parish Council, 
 guided but not controlled by the modern ' Mass Thegen ' 
 or local ' Gesithcund man,' this talent, or rather genius, 
 is apparent. We cannot tell why, in the inscrutable 
 designs of Providence, our chosen race should have been 
 so specially gifted, but certain it is that wherever plain 
 ordinary men such as I who write this and you who read 
 it,* may be planted, there they cause the desert to 
 blossom, and the waters to gush from the living rock. 
 Who has not known, whether among his personal 
 acquaintance or from having read of him in books, the 
 type of man who forms the strength of this mighty 
 national organism? And who has not felt that he is 
 himself something of that kidney ? We stand aghast at 
 our own extraordinary power, and it has been finely 
 said that Nelson was greater than he knew. From one 
 end of the earth to the other the British language is 
 spoken and understood. The very words that I am 
 writing will be read to-morrow in London, the day after 
 in Oxford and from this it is but a step to the utter- 
 most parts of the earth. 
 
 * The italicised words were omitted in the article.
 
 LAMBKIN'S LEADER 235 
 
 " Under these conditions of power, splendour, and 
 domination it is intolerable that the vast metropolis of 
 this gigantic empire should be pestered with crawling 
 cabs. There are indeed many things which in the 
 Divine plan have it in their nature to crawl. We of all 
 the races of men are the readiest to admit the reign of 
 universal law. Meaner races know not the law, but we 
 are the children of the law, and where crawling is part 
 of the Cosmos we submit and quit ourselves like men, 
 being armed with the armour of righteousness. Thus no 
 Englishman (whatever foreigners may feel) is offended 
 at a crawling insect or worm. A wounded hare will 
 crawl, and we Read that ' the serpent was cursed and 
 crawled upon his belly ' ; again, Aristotle in his Ethics 
 talks of those whose nature ( Averts) it is ' epTreiv,' which 
 is usually translated ' to crawl,' and Kipling speaks of 
 fifes 'crawling.' With all this we have no quarrel, but 
 the crawling cab is a shocking and abominable thing; 
 and if the titled owners of hansoms do not heed the 
 warning in time they will find that the spirit of Crom- 
 well is not yet dead, and mayhap the quiet determined 
 people of this realm will rise and sweep them and their 
 gaudy gew-gaws and their finicky high-stepping horses, 
 and their perched-up minions, from the fair face of 
 England."
 
 XI 
 
 LAMBKIN'S REMARKS ON THE END 
 OF TERM 
 
 Delivered in Hall on Saturday, Dec. 6th, 1887, the morning 
 upon which the College went down. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIENDS ; MY DEAR UNDERGRADUATE MEM- 
 BERS OF THIS COLLEGE, 
 
 The end of Term is approaching nay, is here. 
 A little more, and we shall meet each other no longer 
 for six weeks. It is a solemn and a sacred thought. It 
 is not the sadness, and even the regret, that takes us at 
 the beginning of the Long Vacation. This is no defini- 
 tive close. We lose (I hope) no friends ; none leave us 
 for ever, unless I may allude to the young man whom 
 few of you knew, but through whose criminal folly the 
 head of this foundation has lost the use of one eye. 
 
 This is not a time of exaltation, so should it not be a 
 time for too absolute a mourning. This is not the end 
 of the Easter Term, nor of the Summer Term. It is 
 the end of Michaelmas Term. That is the fact, and 
 facts must be looked in the face. What are we to do 
 with the approaching vacation? What have we done 
 with the past term? 
 
 In the past term (I think I can answer for some of 
 you) a much deeper meaning has entered into your lives. 
 Especially you, the young freshmen (happily I have had 
 
 236
 
 REMARKS ON THE END OF TERM 237 
 
 the control of many, the teaching of some), I know that 
 life has become fuller for you. That half -hour a week 
 to which you pay so little heed will mean much in later 
 years. You have come to me in batches for half-an-hour 
 a week, and each of you has thus enjoyed collectively 
 the beginning of that private control and moulding of 
 the character which is the object of all our efforts here 
 in Oxford. And can you not, as you look back, see 
 what a great change has passed over you in the short 
 few months? I do not mean the corporeal change in- 
 volved by our climate or our prandial habits ; neither do 
 I allude to the change in your dress and outward appear- 
 ance. I refer to the mental transformation. 
 
 You arrived sure of a number of things which you 
 had learnt at school or at your mother's knee. Of what 
 are you certain now ? Of nothing ! It is necessary in 
 the mysterious scheme of education that this blind faith 
 or certitude should be laid as a foundation in early 
 youth. But it is imperative that a man if he is to be 
 a man and not a monster should lose it at the outset 
 of his career. My young friends, I have given you the 
 pearl of great price. You have begun to doubt. 
 
 Half-an-hour a week four hours in all the term 
 . . . could any positive, empirical, or dogmatic teach- 
 ing have been conveyed in that time, or with so much 
 fullness as the great scheme of negation can be? I 
 trow not. 
 
 So much for knowledge and tutorship. What of 
 morals? It is a delicate subject, but I will treat of it 
 boldly. You all remember how, shortly after the month 
 of October, the College celebrated Guy Fawkes' Day : 
 the elders, by a dinner in honour of their founder, the
 
 238 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 juniors by lighting a bonfire in the quadrangle. You all 
 know what followed. I do not wish to refer again 
 certainly not with bitterness to the excesses of that 
 evening ; but the loss of eyesight is a serious thing, and 
 one that the victim may forgive, but hardly can forget. 
 I hope the lesson will suffice, and that in future no fellow 
 of this College will have to regret so serious a disfigure- 
 ment at the hands of a student. 
 
 To pass to lighter things. The Smoking Concert on 
 All Souls' Day was a great success. I had hoped to 
 organise some similar jollity on Good Friday, but I find 
 that it falls in the Easter vacation. It is, however, an 
 excellent precedent, and we will not fail to have one on 
 some other festal occasion. To the action of one of our 
 least responsible members I will not refer. But surely 
 there is neither good breeding nor decency in dressing 
 up as an old lady, in assuming the name of one of our 
 Greatest Families, and in so taking advantage of the 
 chivalry, and perhaps the devotion, of one's superiors. 
 The offence is one that cannot lightly be passed over, 
 and the culprit will surely be discovered. 
 
 Of the success of the College at hockey and in the 
 inter-University draughts competition, I am as proud 
 as yourselves. [Loud cheers, lasting for several minutes. ] 
 They were games of which in my youth I was myself 
 proud. On the river I see no reason to be ashamed ; 
 next term we have the Torpids, and after that the 
 Eights. We have no cause to despair. It is my experi- 
 ence (an experience based on ten years of close obser- 
 vation), that no college can permanently remain at the 
 bottom of the river. There is a tide in the affairs of 
 men, which taken at the flood leads on to fortune, let
 
 REMARKS ON THE END OF TERM 239 
 
 us therefore take heart of grace and screw our courage 
 to the sticking point. We have the lightest cox. in the 
 'Varsity and an excellent coach. Much may be done 
 with these things. 
 
 As to the religious state of the college it is, as you all 
 know, excellent I wish I could say the same for the 
 Inorganic Chemistry. This province falls under the 
 guidance of Mr. Large, but the deficiency in our stand- 
 ing is entirely the fault of his pupils. There are not 
 twenty men in the University better fitted to teach 
 Inorganic Chemistry than my colleague. At any rate 
 it is a very grave matter and one by which a college 
 ultimately stands or falls. 
 
 We have had no deaths to deplore during this term, 
 and in my opinion the attack of mumps that affected 
 the college during November can hardly be called an 
 epidemic. The drains will be thoroughly overhauled 
 during the vacation, and the expense of this, spread as 
 it will be among all undergraduate members whether in 
 residence or not, will form a very trifling addition to 
 Battells. I doubt if its effect will be felt. 
 
 There is one last thing that I shall touch upon. We 
 have been constantly annoyed by the way in which 
 undergraduates tread down the lawn. The Oxford turf 
 is one of the best signs of our antiquity as a university. 
 There is no turf like it in the world. The habit of 
 continually walking upon it is fatal to its appearance. 
 Such an action would certainly never be permitted in a 
 gentleman's seat, and there is some talk of building a 
 wall round the quadrangle to prevent the practice in 
 question. I need hardly tell you what a disfigurement 
 such a step would involve, but if there is one thing in
 
 2 4 o LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 the management of the college that I am more deter- 
 mined upon than another it is that no one, be he scholar 
 or be he commoner, shall walk upon the grass ! 
 
 I wish you a very Merry Christmas at the various 
 country houses you may be visiting, and hope and pray 
 that you may find united there all the members of your 
 own family. 
 
 Mr. Gurge will remain behind and speak to me for a 
 few moments.
 
 XII 
 
 LAMBKIN'S ARTICLE ON THE NORTH- 
 WEST CORNER OF THE MOSAIC 
 PAVEMENT OF THE ROMAN 
 VILLA AT BIGNOR 
 
 Or Mr. Lambkin's historical research little mention has 
 been made, because this was but the recreation of a 
 mind whose serious work was much more justly calcu- 
 lated to impress posterity. It is none the less true that 
 he had in the inner coterie of Antiquarians, a very 
 pronounced reputation, and that on more than one 
 occasion his discoveries had led to animated dispute 
 and even to friction. He is referred to as " Herr 
 Professor Lambkin" in Winsk's "Roman Sandals,"* 
 and Mr. Bigchurch in the Preface of his exhaustive 
 work on "The Drainage of the Grecian Sea Port" 
 (which includes much information on the Ionian colonies 
 and Magna Graecia) acknowledges Mr. Lambkin's 
 " valuable sympathy and continuous friendly aid which 
 have helped him through many a dark hour." Lambkin 
 was also frequently sent books on Greek and Roman 
 Antiquities to review ; and it must be presumed that the 
 editor of Culture,} who was himself an Oxford man 
 
 * The full title of the translation is " The Roman Sandal : 
 Its growth, development and decay. Its influence on society 
 and its position in the liturgy of the Western Church." 
 
 t Nephew of Mr. Child, the former editor ; grandson of 
 Mr. Pilgrim, the founder ; and father of the present editor 
 of Culture. 
 
 241 16
 
 3 4 2 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 and had taken a House degree in 1862, would hardly 
 have had such work done by an ignorant man. 
 
 If further proof were needed of Mr. Lambkin's deep 
 and minute scholarship in this matter it would be dis- 
 covered in the many reproductions of antiquities which 
 used to hang round his room in college. They were 
 photographs of a reddish-brown colour and represented 
 many objects dear to the Scholar, such as the Parthenon, 
 the Temples of Paestum, the Apollo Belvedere, and the 
 Bronze head at the Vatican ; called in its original dedica- 
 tion an Ariadne, but more properly described by M. 
 Cre'mieux-Nathanson, in the light of modern research, 
 as a Silenus. 
 
 Any doubts as to Lambkin's full claim to detailed- 
 knowledge in those matters, will, however, be set at 
 rest by the one thing he has left us of the kind his 
 article in the Revue Intellectuelle, which was translated 
 for him by a Belgian friend, but of which I have 
 preserved the original MSS.* It is as follows : 
 
 THE ARTICLE 
 
 I cannot conceive how M. Bischofft and Herr 
 CrapilomJ can have fallen into their grotesque error 
 with regard to the Head in the Mosaic at Bignor. The 
 Head, as all the world knows, is to be found in the 
 extreme north-west corner of the floor of the Mosaic at 
 Bignor, in Sussex. Its exact dimensions from the 
 highest point of the crown to the point or cusp of the 
 
 * Mr. Cook criticises this sentence. It is a point upon 
 which friends may " agrier A difftrer." 
 t Author of Psvehologie de TAbsurde. 
 t Professor of Micro-graphy at Bonn.
 
 THE ROMAN VILLA AT BIGNOR 243 
 
 chin, and from the furthest back edge of the cerebellum 
 to the outer tip of the nose are one foot five inches and 
 one foot three inches respectively. The Head is thus 
 of the Heroic or exaggerated size, and not (as Wain- 
 wright says in his Antiquities), "of life size." It 
 represents the head and face of an old man r and is 
 composed of fragments, in which are used the colours 
 black, brown, blue, yellow, pink, green, purple, and 
 bright orange. There can be no doubt that the floor 
 must have presented a very beautiful and even brilliant 
 appearance when it was new, but at the present day it 
 is much dulled from having lain buried for fifteen 
 hundred years. 
 
 My contention is that M. Bischoff and Herr Crapiloni 
 have made a very ridiculous mistake (I will not call it 
 by a harsher name) in representing this head to be a 
 figure of Winter. In one case (that of M. Bischoff) I 
 have no doubt that patriotic notions were too strong for 
 a well-balanced judgment;* but in the other, I am at a 
 loss to find a sufficient basis for a statement which is 
 not only false, but calculated to do a grave hurt to 
 history and even to public morals. M. Bischoff admits 
 that he visited England in company with Herr Crapiloni 
 I have no doubt that the latter influenced the former, 
 and that the blame and shame of this matter must fall 
 on the ultra-montane German and not on the philo- 
 sophical but enthusiastic Gaul. 
 
 For my opponents' abuse of myself in the columns of 
 such rags as the Bulletin de la Societe Historique de 
 Bourges, or the Revue d'Histoire Romaine, I have only 
 
 * This was rather severe, as M. Bischofi had spent some 
 years in a Maison de Sante\
 
 244 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 contempt and pity ; but we in England are taught that 
 a lie on any matter is equally serious, and I will be no 
 party to the calling of the Mosaic a figure of " Winter " 
 when I am convinced it is nothing of the kind. 
 
 As far as I can make out from their somewhat 
 turgid rhetoric, my opponents rely upon the inscription 
 " Hiems " put in with white stones beneath the mosaic, 
 and they argue that, as the other four corners are 
 admitted to be "Spring," "Summer," and "Autumn," 
 each with their title beneath, therefore this fourth corner 
 must be Winter ! 
 
 It is just such an argument from analogy as I should 
 have expected from men brought up in the corrupt 
 morality and the base religious conceptions of the 
 Continent ! When one is taught that authority is every- 
 thing and cannot use one's judgment,* one is almost 
 certain to jump at conclusions in this haphazard fashion 
 in dealing with definite facts. 
 
 For my part I am convinced that the head is the 
 portrait of the Roman proprietor of the villa, and I am 
 equally convinced that the title "Hiems" has been 
 added below at a later date, so as to furnish a trap for 
 all self-sufficient and gullible historians. Are my 
 continental critics aware that no single copy of the 
 mosaic is to be found in the whole of the Roman 
 Remains of Britain? Are they aware the villa at 
 Bignor has changed hands three times in this century? 
 I do not wish to make any insinuations of bad faith, 
 but I would hint that the word " Hiems " has a fresh 
 new look about it which puzzles me. 
 
 * An example of these occasional difficulties in style, due to 
 the eagerness of which I have spoken.
 
 THE ROMAN VILLA AT BIGNOR 245 
 
 To turn to another matter, though it is one connected 
 with our subject. The pupil of the eye has disappeared. 
 We know that the loss is of ancient date, as Wright 
 mentions its absence in his catalogue. A very inter- 
 esting discussion has arisen as to the material of which 
 the pupil was composed. The matter occupied the 
 Society at Dresden (of which I am a corresponding 
 member) in a debate of some days, I have therefore tried 
 to fathom it but with only partial success. I have 
 indeed found a triangular blue fragment which is much 
 the same shape as the missing cavity ; it is, however, 
 somewhat larger in all its dimensions, and is convex 
 instead of flat, and I am assured it is but a piece of 
 blue china of recent manufacture, of which many such 
 odds and ends are to be found in the fields and dustbins. 
 If (as I strongly suspect) these suggestions are only a 
 ruse, and if (as I hope will be the case) my fragment, 
 after some riling and chipping, can be made to fit the 
 cavity, the discovery will be of immense value; for it 
 will show that the owner of the villa was a Teuton and 
 will go far to prove the theory of Roman continuity, 
 which is at present based on such slight evidence. I 
 will let you know the result. 
 
 The coins recently dug up in the neighbourhood, and 
 on which so many hopes were based, prove nothing as 
 to the date of the mosaic. They cannot be of Roman 
 origin, for they bear for the most part the head and 
 inscription of William III., while the rest are pence 
 and shillings of the Georges. One coin was a guinea, 
 and will, I fear, be sold as gold to the bank. I was 
 very disappointed to find so poor a result : ever since 
 my inquiry labourers have kept coming to me with coins
 
 246 T.AMBKTN'S REMAINS 
 
 obviously modern especially bronze coins of Napoleon 
 III. which they have buried to turn them green, and 
 subsequently hammered shapeless in the hopes of my 
 purchasing them. I have had the misfortune to pur- 
 chase, for no less a sum than a sovereign, what turned 
 out to be the circular brass label on a dog's collar. It 
 contained the name of " Ponto," inscribed in a classic 
 wreath which deceived me. 
 
 Nothing else of real importance has occurred since my 
 last communication.
 
 XIII 
 LAMBKIN'S SERMON 
 
 A MAN not over-given to mere words, Lambkin was 
 always also somewhat diffident of his pulpit eloquence 
 and his sermons were therefore rare. It must not be 
 imagined that he was one of those who rebel vainly 
 against established usage. There was nothing in him 
 of the blatant and destructive demagogue ; no character 
 could have been more removed from the demons who 
 drenched the fair soil of France with such torrents of 
 blood during the awful reign of terror. 
 
 But just as he was in politics a liberal in the truest 
 sense (not in the narrow party definition of the word), 
 so in the religious sphere he descried the necessity of 
 gentle but persistent reform. " The present," he would 
 often say, " is inseparable from the past," but he would 
 add "continual modification to suit the necessities 
 of a changing environment is a cardinal condition of 
 vitality." 
 
 It was, therefore, his aim to keep the form of all 
 existing institutions and merely to change their matter. 
 
 Thus, he was in favour of the retention of the Regius 
 Professorship of Greek, and even voted for a heavy 
 increase in the salary of its occupant ; but he urged and 
 finally carried the amendment by which that dignitary 
 is at present compelled to lecture mainly on current 
 
 247
 
 248 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 politics. Mathematics again was a subject whose 
 interest he discerned, however much he doubted its 
 value as a mental discipline; he was, therefore, a 
 supporter of the prize fellowships occasionally offered 
 on the subject, but, in the determination of the success- 
 ful candidate he would give due weight to the minutiae 
 of dress and good manners. 
 
 It will be seen from all this that if Lambkin was 
 essentially a modern, yet he was as essentially a wise 
 and moderate man; cautious in action and preferring 
 judgment to violence he would often say, " transformer 
 please, not reformer," when his friends twitted him 
 over the port with his innovations.* 
 
 Religion, then, which must be a matter of grave 
 import to all, was not neglected by such a mind. 
 
 He saw that all was not lost when dogma failed, but 
 that the great ethical side of the system could be 
 developed in the room left by the decay of its formal 
 character. Just as a man who has lost his fingers will 
 sometimes grow thumbs in their place, so Lambkin 
 foresaw that in the place of what was an atrophied 
 function, vigorous examples of an older type might 
 shoot up, and the organism would gain in breadth what 
 it lost in definition. " I look forward to the time " (he 
 would cry) " when the devotional hand of man shall be 
 all thumbs." 
 
 The philosophy which he thus applied to formal 
 teaching and dogma took practical effect in the no less 
 
 * The meaning of this sentence is made clear thus : They 
 (subject) twitted (predicate), with his-qualifications (adver- 
 bially " how "), over the port (adyerbially " where and 
 when "), him (object).
 
 LAMBKIN'S SERMON 249 
 
 important matter of the sermon. He retained that form 
 or shell, but he raised it as on stepping stones from its 
 dead self to higher things; the success of many a man 
 in this life has been due to the influence exerted by his 
 simple words. 
 
 The particular allocution which I have chosen as the 
 best illustration of his method was not preached in the 
 College Chapel, but was on the contrary a University 
 Sermon given during eight weeks. It ran as follows : 
 
 SERMON 
 
 I take for my text a beautiful but little-known 
 passage from the Talmud : 
 
 ' ' / will arise and gird u$ my lions / mean loins 
 and go; yea, I will get me out of the land of my fathers 
 which is in Ben-ramon, even unto Edom and the Valley 
 of Kush and the cities about Laban to the uttermost ends 
 of the earth." 
 
 There is something about foreign travel, my dear 
 Brethren, which seems, as it were, a positive physical 
 necessity to our eager and high-wrought generation. At 
 specified times of the year we hunt, or debate; we 
 attend to our affairs in the city, or we occupy our minds 
 with the guidance of State. The ball-room, the draw- 
 ing-room, the club, each have their proper season. In 
 our games football gives place to cricket, and the deep 
 bay of the faithful hound yields with the advancing 
 season to the sharp crack of the Winchester, as the 
 grouse, the partridge, or the yery kapper-capercailzie
 
 250 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 itself falls before the superior intelligence of man. One 
 fashion also will succeed another, and in the mysterious 
 development of the years a development not entirely 
 under the guidance of our human wills the decent 
 'croquet-ball returns to lawns that had for so long been 
 strangers to aught but the fierce agility of tennis. 
 
 So in the great procession of the times and the 
 seasons, there comes upon us the time for travel. It is 
 not (my dear Brethren), it is not in the winter when all 
 is covered with a white veil of snow or possibly trans- 
 formed with the marvellous effects of thaw ; it is not in 
 the spring when the buds begin to appear in the hedges, 
 and when the crocus studs the spacious sward in artful 
 disorder and calculated negligence no it is not then 
 the old time of Pilgrimage,* that our positive and 
 enlightened era chooses for its migration.! 
 
 It is in the burning summer season, when the glare 
 of the sun is almost painful to the jaded eye of the 
 dancer, when the night is shortest and the day longest, 
 that we fly from these inhospitable shores and green 
 fields of England. 
 
 And whither do we fly ? Is it to the cool and delicious 
 north, to the glaciers of Greenland, or to the noble cliffs 
 and sterling characters of Orkney ? Is it to Norway ? 
 Can it be to Lapland ? Some perhaps, a very few, are 
 to be found journeying to these places in the commo- 
 dious and well-appointed green boats of Mr. Wilson, of 
 Tranby Croft. But, alas ! the greater number leave the 
 
 * Mr. Lambkin loved to pass a quiet hour over the MSS. in 
 the Bodleian, and would quote familiarly the rare lines of 
 Chaucer, especially, among the mediaeval poets. 
 
 t This sentence is an admirable example of Lambkin's later 
 manner.
 
 LAMBKIN'S SERMON 251 
 
 hot summer of England for the yet more torrid climes 
 of Italy, Spain, the Levant, and the Barbary coast. 
 Negligent of the health that is our chiefest treasure, we 
 waste our energies in the malaria of Rome, or in Paris 
 poison our minds with the contempt aroused by the 
 sight of hideous foreigners. 
 
 Let me turn from this painful aspect of a question 
 which certainly presents nobler and more useful issues; 
 It is most to our purpose, perhaps, in a certain fashion ; 
 it is doubtless more to our purpose in many ways to 
 consider on an occasion such as this the moral aspects 
 of foreign travel, and chief among these I reckon those 
 little points of mere every day practice, which are of so 
 much greater importance than the rare and exaggerated 
 acts to which our rude ancestors gave the name of Sins. 
 
 Consider the over-charges in hotels. The economist 
 may explain, the utilitarian may condone such action, 
 but if we are to make for Righteousness, we cannot pass 
 without censure a practice which we would hardly go so 
 far as to condemn. If there be in the sacred edifice any 
 one of those who keep houses of entertainment upon the 
 Continent, especially if there sit among you any repre- 
 sentative of that class in Switzerland, I would beg him 
 to consider deeply a matter which the fanatical clergy 
 of his land may pardon, but which it is the duty of ours 
 to publicly deplore. 
 
 Consider again the many examples of social and 
 moral degradation which we meet with in our journey- 
 ings ! We pass from the coarse German to the in- 
 constant Gaul. We fly the indifference and ribald 
 scoffing of Milan only to fall into the sink of idolatry 
 and superstition which men call Naples ; we observe in
 
 2 5 * LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 our rapid flight the indolent Spaniard, the disgusting 
 Slav, the uncouth Frisian, and the frightful Hun. 
 Our travels will not be without profit if they teach us 
 to thank Heaven that our fathers preserved us from 
 such a lot as theirs. 
 
 Again, we may consider the great advantages that we 
 may gather as individuals from travel. We can exercise 
 our financial ingenuity (and this is no light part of 
 mental training) in arranging our expenses for the day. 
 We can find in the corners of foreign cities those relics 
 of the Past which the callous and degraded people of the 
 place ignore, and which are reserved for the apprecia- 
 tion of a more vigorous race. In the galleries we learn 
 the beauties of a San MirtSnoja, and the vulgar insuf- 
 ficiency and ostentation of a Sanzio.* In a thousand 
 ways the experience of the Continent is a consolation 
 and a support. 
 
 Fourthly, my dear Brethren, we contrast our sturdy 
 and honest crowd of tourists with the ridiculous castes 
 and social pettiness of the ruck of foreign nations. 
 There the peasant, the bourgeois, the noble, the priest, 
 the politician, the soldier, seems each to live in his own 
 world. In our happier England there are but two 
 classes, the owners of machinery and the owners of 
 land ; and these are so subtly and happily mixed, there 
 is present at the same time so hearty an independence 
 and so sensible a recognition of rank, that the whole 
 vast mass of squires and merchants mingle in an ex- 
 quisite harmony, and pour like a life-giving flood over 
 the decaying cities of Europe. 
 
 But I have said enough. I must draw to a close. 
 * Raphael.
 
 LAMBKIN'S SERMON 253 
 
 The love of fame, which has been beautifully called the 
 last infirmity of noble-minds, alone would tempt me to 
 proceed. But I must end. I hope that those of you 
 who go to Spain will visit the unique and interesting old 
 town of Saragossa. 
 
 (Here Mr. Lambkin abruptly left the pulpit.)
 
 XIV 
 
 LAMBKIN'S OPEN LETTER TO 
 CHURCHMEN 
 
 THE noise made by Mr. Lambkin's famous advice to 
 Archdeacon Burfle will be remembered by all my 
 readers. He did not, however, publish the letter (as 
 is erroneously presumed in Great Dead Men of the 
 Period),* without due discussion and reflection. I did 
 not personally urge him to make it public I thought 
 it unwise. But Mr. Large may almost be said to have 
 insisted upon it in the long Conversation which he and 
 Josiah had upon the matter. When Lambkin had left 
 Large's room I took the liberty of going up to see him 
 again, but the fatal missive had been posted, and 
 appeared next day in The Times, the Echo, and other 
 journals, not to mention the Englishman's Anchor. I 
 do not wish to accuse Mr. Large of any malicious 
 purpose or deliberately misleading intention, but I fear 
 that (as he was not an impulsive man) his advice can 
 only have proceeded from a woeful and calculated lack 
 of judgment. 
 
 There is no doubt that (from Lambkin's own point of 
 
 * P. 347, " The impetuosity of the action ill-suits with what 
 is known of Lambkin." It is all very well for the editor of 
 Great Dead Men to say that this apologises for the misfortune; 
 that apology does not excuse the imputation of impetuosity 
 (forsooth !) to a man whose every gesture was restrained. 
 
 254
 
 OPEN LETTER TO CHURCHMEN 255 
 
 view), the publication of this letter was a very serious 
 error. It bitterly offended Arthur Bundleton, and 
 alienated all the " Pimlico " group (as they were then 
 called). At the same time it did not satisfy the small 
 but eager and cultured body who followed Tamworthy. 
 It gave a moderate pleasure to the poorer clergy in the 
 country parishes, but I doubt very much whether these 
 are the men from whom social advantage or eccle- 
 siastical preferment is to be expected. I often told 
 Lambkin that the complexity of our English Polity was 
 a dangerous thing to meddle with. "A man," I would 
 say to him, ' ' who expresses an opinion is like one who 
 plunges a knife into some sensitive part of the human 
 frame. The former may offend unwittingly by the mere 
 impact of his creed or prejudice, much as the latter may 
 give pain by happening upon some hidden nerve." 
 
 Now Lambkin was essentially a wise man. He felt 
 the obligation the duty (to give it a nobler name) 
 which is imposed on all of us of studying our fellows. 
 He did not, perhaps, say where his mind lay in any 
 matter more than half a dozen times in his life, for fear 
 of opposing by such an expression the wider experience 
 or keener emotion of the society around him. He felt 
 himself a part of a great stream, which it was the 
 business of a just man to follow, and if he spoke 
 strongly (as he often did) it was on some matter upon 
 which the vast bulk of his countrymen were agreed ; 
 indeed he rightly gave to public opinion, and to the 
 governing classes of the nation, an overwhelming weight 
 in his system of morals ; and even at twenty-one he had 
 a wholesome contempt for the doctrinaire enthusiast who 
 neglects his newspaper and hatches an ethical system
 
 *56 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 out of mere blind tradition or (what is worse) his inner 
 conscience. 
 
 It is remarkable, therefore, that such a man should 
 have been guilty of one such error. " It was not a 
 crime," he said cleverly, in speaking of the matter to 
 me, "it was worse; it was a blunder." And that is 
 what we all felt. The matter can be explained, how- 
 ever, by a reference to the peculiar conditions of the 
 moment in which it appeared. The Deanery of Bury 
 had just fallen vacant by the death of Henry Carver, 
 the elder.* A Liberal Unionist Government was in 
 power, and Lambkin perhaps imagined that controversy 
 still led as it had done but a few years before to the 
 public notice which it merits. He erred, but it was a 
 noble error. 
 
 One thing at least we can rejoice in, the letter may 
 have hurt Lambkin in this poor mortal life; but it was 
 of incalculable advantage to the generation immediately 
 succeeding his own. I cannot but believe that from that 
 little source springs all the mighty river of reform which 
 has left so profound a mark upon the hosiery of this 
 our day. 
 
 The letter is as follows : 
 
 AN OPEN LETTER 
 
 BURFOKD, 
 MY DEAR BURFLE, St. John's Eve, 1876. 
 
 You have asked my advice on a matter of deep 
 import, a matter upon which every self-respecting 
 
 * Better known perhaps as an author than as a cleric. He 
 met his end in a shocking manner in a railway accident. His 
 life was, however, insured, and he had upon him a copy of 
 Golden Deeds.
 
 OPEN LETTER TO CHURCHMEN 257 
 
 Englishman is asking himself the question, "Am I a 
 sheep or a goat?" My dear Burfle, I will answer you 
 straight out, and I know you will not be angry with me 
 if I answer also in the agora, "before the people," as 
 Paul would have done. Are you a sheep or a goat? 
 Let us think. 
 
 You say rightly that the question upon which all this 
 turns is the question of boots. It is but a symbol, but 
 it is a symbol upon which all England is divided. On 
 the one hand we have men strenuous, determined, eager 
 men (if I may say so) of true Apostolic quality, to 
 whom the buttoned boot is sacred to a degree some of us 
 may find it difficult to understand. They are few, are 
 these devout pioneers, but they are in certain ways, and 
 from some points of view, among the elite of the Nation, 
 so to speak. 
 
 On the other hand we have the great mass of sensible 
 men, earnest, devout, practical what Beeker calls in a 
 fine phrase " Thys corpse and verie bodieof England"* 
 determined to maintain what their fathers had before 
 them, and insisting on the laced boot as the proper 
 foot-gear of the Church. 
 
 No one is more sensible than myself (my dear Burfle), 
 1 say no one is more sensible than I am, of the gravity 
 of this schism for schism it threatens to be. And no 
 one appreciates more than I do how much there is to be 
 said on both sides. The one party will urge (with 
 perfect justice), that the buttoned boot is a development. 
 They maintain (and there is much to be said in their 
 favour), that the common practice of wearing buttoned 
 
 * Becker's A Torch for the Chapell; or the Nonconfor- 
 mists out-done. Folio, 1663, p. 71. 
 
 17
 
 258 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 boots, their ornate appearance, and the indication of 
 well-being which they afford, fit them most especially 
 for the Service of the Temple. They are seen upon the 
 feet of Parisians, of Romans, of Viennese; they are 
 associated with our modern occasions of Full Dress, and 
 when we wear them we feel that we are one with all 
 that is of ours in Christendom. In a word, they are 
 Catholic, in the best and truest sense of the word. 
 
 Now, my dear Burfle, consider the other side of the 
 argument. The laced boot, modern though it be in 
 form and black and solid, is yet most undoubtedly the 
 Primitive Boot in its essential. That the early Chris- 
 tians wore sandals is now beyond the reach of doubt or 
 the power of the wicked. There is indeed the famous 
 forgery of Gelasius, which may have imposed upon the 
 superstition of the dark ages,* there is the doubtful 
 evidence also of the mosaic at Ravenna. But the only 
 solid ground ever brought forward was the passage in 
 the Pseudo-Johannes, which no modern scholar will 
 admit to refer to buttons. vyov means, among other 
 things, a lace, an absolute lace, and I defy our enemies 
 (who are many and unscrupulous) to deny. The Sandal 
 has been finally given its place as a Primitive Christian 
 ornament ; and we can crush the machinations of foreign 
 missions, I think, with the plain sentence of that great 
 scholar, Dr. Junker. " The sandal," he says, " is the 
 parent of the laced boot." 
 
 So far then, so good. You see (my dear Burfle), how 
 honestly the two sides may differ, and how, with such a 
 backing upon either side, the battle might rage in- 
 
 * Referring to the edict on Buttoned Boots of Romulus 
 Augustulus : a very shameless injustice.
 
 OPEN LETTER TO CHURCHMEN 259 
 
 definitely, to the final extinction, perhaps, of our 
 beloved country and its most cherished institutions. 
 
 Is there no way by which such a catastrophe may be 
 avoided ? 
 
 Why most certainly yes. There is a road on which 
 both may travel, a place in which all may meet. I 
 mean the boot (preferably the cloth boot) with elastic 
 sides. Already it is worn by many of our clergy.* It 
 offends neither party, it satisfies, or should satisfy, 
 both; and for my part, I see in it one of those com- 
 promises upon which our greatness is founded. Let us 
 then determine to be in this matter neither sheep nor 
 goats. It is better, far better, to admit some sheepish- 
 ness into our goatishness, or (if our extremists will have 
 it so), some goatishness into our sheepishness it is 
 better, I say, to enter one fold and be at peace together, 
 than to imperil our most cherished and beloved tenets 
 in a mere wrangle upon non-essentials. For, after all, 
 what is essential to us ? Not boots, I think, but righteous- 
 ness. Righteousness may express itself in boots, it is 
 just and good that it should do so, but to see righteous- 
 ness in the boot itself is to fall into the gross materialism 
 of the middle ages, and to forget our birthright and the 
 mess of pottage. 
 
 Yours (my dear Burfle) in all charity, 
 
 JOSIAH LAMBKIN. 
 
 * Lambkin lived to see its almost universal adoption : a 
 result in which he was no mean agent.
 
 XV 
 
 LAMBKIN'S LETTER TO A FRENCH 
 FRIEND 
 
 LAMBKIN'S concern for the Continent was deep and 
 lasting. He knew the Western part of this Division of 
 the Globe from a constant habit of travel which would 
 take him by the Calais-Bale, passing through the St. 
 Gothard by night, and so into the storied plains of 
 Italy.* It was at Milan that he wrote his Shorter 
 Anglo-Saxon Grammar, and in Assisi that he corrected 
 the proofs of his article on the value of oats as human 
 food. Everyone will remember the abominable outrage 
 at Naples, where he was stabbed by a coachman in 
 revenge for his noble and disinterested protection of a 
 poor cab-horse ; in a word, Italy is full of his vacations, 
 and no name is more familiar to the members of the 
 Club at the Villa Marinoni. 
 
 It may seem strange that under such circumstances 
 our unhappy neighbours across the Channel should so 
 especially have taken up his public action. He was no 
 deep student of the French tongue, and he had but a 
 trifling acquaintance with the habits of the common 
 people of that country ; but he has said himself with 
 great fervour, in his " Thoughts on Political Obliga- 
 
 * " On fair Italia's storied plains," Biggin, xii., /. 32. 
 260
 
 LETTER TO A FRENCH FRIEND 261 
 
 tions," that no man could be a good citizen of England 
 who did not understand her international position. 
 " What " (he would frequently exclaim) " what can they 
 know of England, who only England know?"* He 
 did not pretend to a familiarity with the minute details 
 of foreign policy, nor was he such a pedant as to be 
 offended at the good-humoured chaff directed against 
 his accent in the pronunciation of foreign names. 
 Nevertheless he thought it and rightly thought it 
 part of his duty to bring into any discussion of the 
 affairs of the Republic those chance phrases which lend 
 colour and body to a conversation. He found this duty 
 as it lay in his path and accomplished it, without 
 bombast, but with full determination, and with a vast 
 firmness of purpose. Thus he would often let drop 
 such expressions as " etat majeur," "la clericalisme 
 c'est 1'ennemi," " l'e"tat c'est moi,"t and such was his 
 painful and exact research that he first in the University 
 arrived at the meaning of the word "bordereau," which, 
 until his discovery, all had imagined to be a secret 
 material of peculiar complexity. 
 
 Mr. Lambkin had but one close friend in France, a 
 man who had from cosmopolitan experience acquired a 
 breadth and humour which the Frenchman so conspicu- 
 ously lacks; he united, therefore, the charm of the 
 French character to that general experience which 
 Lambkin invariably demanded of his friends, and the 
 fact that he belonged to a small political minority and 
 
 * I am assured by Mr. Venial that this well-known line 
 originally took shape on Mr. Lambkin's lips. 
 
 t This phrase he noticed early in his studies to be a rhym- 
 ing catchword, and pronounced it so to the day of his death.
 
 962 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 had so long associated with foreigners had winnowed 
 from that fine soul the grossness and one-sidedness, the 
 mingled vanity and ferocity, which seems so fatal a part 
 of the Gallic temper. In some ways this friend re- 
 minded one of the great Huguenots whom France to her 
 eternal loss banished by the revocation of the Edict of 
 Nantes, and of whom a bare twenty thousand are now 
 to be found in the town of Nimes. In other ways this 
 gifted mind recalled and this would be in his moments 
 of just indignation the manner and appearance of a 
 Major Prophet. 
 
 Jules de la Vaguere d Bissac was the first of his 
 family to bear that ancient name, but not the least 
 worthy. Born on a Transatlantic in the port of Ham- 
 burg, his first experience of life had been given him in 
 the busy competition of New York. It was there that 
 he acquired the rapid glance, the grasp, the hard 
 business head which carried him from Buenos Ayres to 
 Amsterdam, and finally to a fortune. His wealth he 
 spent in the entertainment of his numerous friends, in 
 the furtherance of just aims in politics (to which alas ! 
 the rich in France do not subscribe as they should), to 
 the publication of sound views in the press, and occa- 
 sionally (for old habit is second nature*), in the promo- 
 tion of some industrial concern destined to benefit his 
 country and the world, t With transactions, however 
 sound and honest, that savoured of mere speculation 
 De Bissac would have nothing to do, and when his 
 uncle and brother fled the country in 1887, he helped, 
 
 * Hobbes. 
 
 t Thus M. de Bissac was the President of the Societe 
 Anonyme des Voitures-fixes.
 
 LETTER TO A FRENCH FRIEND 263 
 
 indeed, with his purse but he was never heard to excuse 
 or even to mention the poor, fallen men. 
 
 His hotel in the Rue des Fortifications (a modest but 
 coquettish little gem, whose doors were bronze copies of 
 the famous gates of the Baptistery at Florence), had 
 often received Mr. Lambkin and a happy circle of 
 friends. Judge then of the horror and indignation with 
 which Oxford heard that two of its beautiful windows 
 had been intentionally broken on the night of June i5th, 
 1896. The famous figure of " Mercy," taken from the 
 stained glass at Rheims, was destroyed and one of the 
 stones had fallen on the floor within an inch of a price- 
 less Sevres vase that had once belonged to Law and had 
 been bought from M. Panama. It was on the occasion 
 of this abominable outrage that Mr. Lambkin sent the 
 following letter, which, as it was published in the 
 Horreur, I make no scruple of reprinting. But, for the 
 sake of the historical interest it possesses, I give it in 
 its original form : 
 
 CHER AMI ET MONSIEUR, 
 
 Je n'ai pas de doute que vous aurez souvenu 
 votre visite a Oxford, car je suis bien sur que je 
 souviens ma visite a Paris, quand je fus recu avec tant 
 de bienveillance par vous et votre aimable famille. 
 
 Vous aurez done immediatement apresl 'accident pense 
 a nous car vous aurez su que nous etions, moi et Bilkin, 
 vos amis sinceres surtout dans la politique. Nous avons 
 txpecte quelque chose pareille et nous comprenons bien 
 pourquoi c'est le mauvais Durand qui a jete les pierres. 
 Vous avez e"te trop bon pour cet homme la. Souvenez- 
 vous en future que c'est exactement ceux a qui nous
 
 264 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 pretons de 1'argent et devraient Stre de*voue"s a nous, qui 
 deviennent des ennemis. Voila ce qui empdche si 
 souvent de faire du bien excepte" a ceux qui nous seront 
 fideles et doux. 
 
 (All this, being of a private nature, was not printed 
 in M. de Bissac's paper. The public portion follows.) 
 
 II est bien evident d'ou viennent des abominables et 
 choquants choses pareilles. C'est que la France se 
 meurent. Un pays ou il n'y a personne* qui peut 
 empecher des fanatiques de briser les verres est un pays 
 en decadence, voila ce que 1'Irlande aurait e"t si nous 
 etions pas la pour 1 'empecher. On briserait des verres 
 tres surement et beaucoup. J'espere que je ne blesse 
 pas votre cceur de Frangais en disant tout cela, mais il 
 est bien mieux de connaitre ce que Ton a, meme si c'est 
 mortel comme en France. 
 
 Vous 1'avez bien dit c'est les militarisme et clericalisme 
 qui font ces outrages. Examinez bien rhomme qui a 
 fait c,a et vous verrez qu'il a e"te" baptise* et tres probable- 
 ment il a fait son service militaire. Oh ! Mon cher 
 ami que Dieuf vous a merveilleusement pre"serv de 
 1 'influence du Sabe et du Goupillon ! Vous n'avez pas 
 fait votre service et si vous etes sage ne faites le jamais 
 car il corrompt le caractere. Je nous ne 1'avons pas. 
 
 J'ai lu avec grand plaisir votre article " Le Pretre 
 au Bagne," oui ! c'est au Bagne que'l on devrait envoyer 
 les Pretres seulement dans un pays ou tant de personne 
 sont Catholiques, je crains que les jurys sentimentales de 
 votre pays aquitterait honteusement ces hommes ne"fastes. 
 
 * " Accuracy in the use of negatives," Mr. Lambkin would 
 say, " is the test of a scholar." 
 f Changed to " le Destin" in the newspaper.
 
 LETTER TO A FRENCH FRIEND 265 
 
 J'espere que je ne blesse pas votre Coeur de Catho- 
 lique en disant cela. * Nos Catholiques ici ne sont pas 
 si mauvais que nos Catholiques la-bas. Beaucoup des 
 notres sont de tres bonnes families, mais en Irlande 
 1'ignorance et terrible, et on veut le faire plus grand 
 avec une Universite" ! 
 
 En esperant que la France redeviendra son vrai 
 memet ce que je crains tre impossible, je reste, mon 
 cher ami (et Monsieur) votre ami sincere, agriez mes 
 vux presses, tout-a-toi. 
 
 JOSUE LAMBKIN. 
 
 * M. de Bissac was a Catholic, but one of the most liberal 
 temper. He respected the Pope, but said that he was led 
 astray by his advisers. He voted every year for the suppres- 
 sion of public worship in France and the turning of the 
 churches into local museums. He was in every way remark- 
 ably unprejudiced for a man of that persuasion. His in- 
 defatigable attacks upon the clergy of his country have earned 
 him the admiration of part of the whole civilized world. 
 
 t The phrase is " return to her true self." It was a 
 favourite one of Lambkin's, but is I fear untranslatable. The 
 French have no such subtle ideas. The whole sentence was 
 left out in the Horreur, and the final paragraph began with 
 " Je reste."
 
 XVI 
 INTERVIEW WITH MR. LAMBKIN 
 
 A REPRESENTATIVE of The ] . C. R. had, but a short 
 while before his death, the privilege of an interview 
 with Mr. Lambkin on those numerous questions of the 
 day which the enterprise of the Press puts before its 
 readers. The meeting has a most pathetic interest ! 
 Here was the old man full and portly, much alive to 
 current questions, and to the last a true representative of 
 his class. Within a week the fatal Gaudy had passed 
 and he was no more ! Though the words here given are 
 reported by another, they bear the full, fresh impress 
 of his personality and I treasure them as the last 
 authentic expression of that great mind. 
 
 " Ringing the bell " (writes our representative) " at a 
 neat villa in the Banbury Road, the door was answered 
 by a trim serving-maid in a chintz gown and with a white 
 cap on her head. The whole aspect of Mr. Lambkin's 
 household without and within breathes repose and decent 
 merriment. I was ushered into a well-ordered study, 
 and noticed upon the walls a few handsome prints, 
 chosen in perfect taste and solidly mounted in fine 
 frames, ' The meeting of Wellington and Blucher at 
 Waterloo,' ' John Knox preaching before Mary Queen 
 of Scots,' ' The trial of Lord William Russell,' and 
 two charming pictures of a child and a dog : ' Can 'oo 
 
 266
 
 INTERVIEW WITH MR. LAMBKIN 267 
 
 talk?' and 'Me too!' completed the little gallery. I 
 noticed also a fine photograph of the Marquis of 
 Llanidloes, whose legal attainments and philological 
 studies had formed a close bond between him and Mr. 
 Lambkin. A faded daguerreotype of Mr. Lambkin's 
 mother and a pencil sketch of his father's country seat 
 possessed a pathetic interest. 
 
 " Mr. Lambkin came cheerily into the room, and I 
 plunged at once ' in medias res.' 
 
 "'Pray Mr. Lambkin, what do you think of the 
 present position of parties?' 
 
 " ' Why, if you ask me,' he replied, with an intelli- 
 gent look, ' I think the great party system needs an 
 opposition to maintain it in order, and I regret the 
 absence of any man of weight or talent I had almost 
 said of common decency on the Liberal side. The 
 late Lord Llanidloes who was the old type of Liberal 
 such a noble heart ! said to me in this very room, 
 ' ' Mark my words, Lambkin ' ' (said he) ' ' the Opposition 
 is doomed." This was in Mr. Gladstone's 1885 Parlia- 
 ment; it has always seemed to me a wonderful prophecy. 
 But Llanidloes was a wonderful man, and the place of 
 second Under-Secretary for Agriculture was all too little 
 a reward for such services as his to the State. ' Do 
 you know those lines,' here Mr. Lambkin grew visibly 
 affected, ' ' ' Then all were for the party and none were 
 for the State, the rich man paid the poor man, and the 
 weak man loved the great " ? I fear those times will 
 never come again.' 
 
 "A profound silence followed. 'However,' con- 
 tinued he with quiet emphasis, ' Home Rule is dead, 
 and there is no immediate danger of any tampering with
 
 268 LAMBKIN'S REMAINS 
 
 the judicial system of Great Britain after the fashion 
 that obtains in France. 
 
 " ' Yes,' he continued, with the smile that makes him 
 so familiar, ' these are my books : trifles but my own. 
 Here ' (taking down a volume), ' is What would Crom- 
 well have donef a proposal for reforming Oxford. 
 Then here, in a binding with purple flowers, is my 
 Time and Purpose a devotional book which has sold 
 largely. The rest of the shelf is what I call my 
 "casual" work. It was mainly done for that great 
 modern publisher Matthew Straight, who knows so 
 well how to combine the old Spirit with Modern 
 exigencies. You know his beautiful sign of the Boiling 
 Pot in Plummer's Court? It was painted for him by 
 one of his young artists. You have doubtless seen his 
 name in the lists of guests at country houses; I often 
 meet him when I go to visit my friends, and we plan a 
 book together. 
 
 " ' Thus my Boys of Great Britain an historical 
 work, was conceived over the excellent port of Baron 
 Gusmann at Westburton Abbey. Then there is the 
 expansion of this book, English Boyhood, in three 
 volumes, of which only two have appeared Anglo- 
 Saxon Boyhood and Mediaval Boyhood in England. 
 It is very laborious. 
 
 " ' No,' he resumed, with nervous rapidity, ' I have 
 not confined myself to these. There is What is Will? 
 Mehitopel the Jewess of Prague (a social novel) ; The 
 Upper House of Convocation before History; Elements 
 of the Leibnitzian Monodology for Schools (which is 
 the third volume in the High School Series) ; Physiology 
 of the Elephant and its little abbreviated form for the
 
 INTERVIEW WITH MR. LAMBKIN 269 
 
 use of children How Jumbo is made Inside dedicated 
 by the way, to that dear little fairy, Lady Constantia 
 de la Pole : such a charming child, and destined, I am 
 sure, to be a good and beautiful woman. She is three 
 years old, and shooting up like a graceful young lily.' 
 
 " ' I fear I am detaining you,' I said, as the good 
 man, whose eyes had filled with tears during the last 
 remark (he is a great lover of children) pulled out a 
 gold watch and consulted its tell-tale dial. ' Not at 
 all,' he replied with finished courtesy, 'but I always 
 make a point of going in to High Tea and seeing my 
 wife and family well under weigh before I go off to 
 Hall. Surely that must be the gong, and there ' (as the 
 pleasant sound of children's high voices filled the 
 house) ' come what I call my young barbarians.' 
 
 " He accompanied me to the door with true old- 
 world politeness and shook me beautifully by the hand. 
 ' Good-bye,' he said, 'Good-bye and God-speed. You 
 may make what use you like of this, that I believe the 
 task of the journalist to be among the noblest in our 
 broad land. The Press has a great mission, a great 
 mission.' 
 
 ' ' With these words still ringing in my ears I gathered 
 up my skirts to cross the muddy roadway and stepped 
 into the tram."

 
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 THE BRASSBOUNDER : A TALK OF THE SKA. By David W. Bone. 
 
 BROKEN STOWAGE. By David W. Bone. 
 
 IF AGE COULD. By Bernard Capes. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN MARYLEBONE. By Mrs W. K. Clifford. 
 
 THE WIDOW'S NECKLACE : A DETECTIVE STORY. ' By Ernest Davies 
 
 WRACK : A TALE OF THE SEA. By Maurice Drake. 
 
 THE EXPLOITS OF DANBY CROKER. By R. Austin Freeman. 
 
 BEYOND THE ROCKS. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 HALCYONE. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 THE REASON WHY. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 THE REFLECTIONS OF AMBROSINE. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 THE VISITS OF ELIZABETH. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 GUINEVERE'S LOVER (THE SEQUENCE). By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 THE VICISSITUDES OF EVANGELINE. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 WHEN THE HOUR CAME. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 THREE WEEKS. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 THE CAREER OF KATHERINE BUSH. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 ELIZABETH VISITS AMERICA. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 THE CONTRAST AND OTHER STORIES. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 THREE THINGS. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 LETTERS TO CAROLINE. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 THE MAN AND THE MOMENT. By Elinor Glyn. 
 
 SOUTH AMERICAN SKETCHES. By W. H. Hudson. 
 
 OLD FIREPROOF. By Owen Rhoscomyl. 
 
 WHERE BONDS ARE LOOSED. By Grant Watson. 
 
 THE MAINLAND. By Grant Watson. 
 
 THE OILSKIN PACKET. By Reginald Berkeley and James Dixon.
 
 Date Due 
 
 HB 19 
 
 74 
 
 PRINTED IN U.S.A. CAT. NO. 24 161
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 664 449 6