University of California Berkeley 
 
AN EVIL MOTHERHOOD 
 
AN EVIL MOTHERHOOD 
 
 An Impressionist Novel 
 
 BY 
 
 WALT RUDING 
 
 Frontispiece by Aubrey Beardsley 
 
 LONDON 
 ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET 
 
 MDCCCXCV! 
 
Le coup dont tu te plains, f a preserve peut-etre 
 Enfant, car cest par la que ton cczur sest ouvepte; 
 
 Uhomme est un apprenti, la douleur est son maitre 
 Et nul ne se connait tant qu'il na pas souffert. 
 
 A. DE MUSSET. 
 
TO MY OWN DEAR MOTHER 
 THIS WORK OF IMAGINATION 
 , IN LOVE AND HONOUR. 
 
 M97049 
 
A PREFATORY NOTE 
 
MY prefatory words shall be few, and relevant 
 rather than graceful. As to myself, then- 
 Nothing. How I learnt or invented my story will 
 not interest the reader; enough that, had it the 
 artistic misfortune to be " founded on facts," I 
 should seek to redeem it with all the resources 
 of Fiction. 
 
 Nature is often sensational in effects the significance 
 of which we are unable to ignore. Some may barely 
 tolerate such sensation ; some hanker after comic re 
 lief or the restful padding of a love interest ; perhaps 
 but a few will understand a tragedy disclosed in torn 
 cries, in embarassed silences, in unconscious words. 
 
 In conclusion, dare I admit that in " The Tragedy of a 
 Brain" I have sought to defend weakness, in the court 
 of humanity, and to satirize the strong (" sensible 
 people !") who demand bricks without straw from the 
 weak. 
 
SPECIAL NOTICE. Owing to the nature of the plot, 
 the author expressly repudiates any suggestion that the 
 events or characters have any reference to persons living in 
 the world of fact. It seems, therefore, advisable to disavow 
 any intention of writing " un roman a clef" 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK I 
 An Arabian Night's Story 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. Nature and Art 3 
 
 II. A Sudden Blow 9 
 
 III. What is a Jackal ? 16 
 
 IV. Descensus A verni 20 
 
 V. The Wandering Moon 26 
 
 VI. A New Tribunal 28 
 
 VII. In the Nature of a Climax . ... 32 
 
 VIII. The Question 36 
 
 IX. The Other Man 39 
 
 X. Liberates sacra fames . . . . 42 
 
BOOK II 
 The Cynic 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A Study in Irrelevance 49 
 
 II. The Narrative Continues . . . . 51 
 
 III. First Steps 55 
 
 IV. A Friend 58 
 
 V. The Other Side ...... 60 
 
 VI. When Doctors Disagree .... 62 
 
 VII. Searching the Registers .... 65 
 
 VIII. A Startling Incident 68 
 
 IX. An Invitation 71 
 
 X. Mother and Son 73 
 
 XI. Failure 77 
 
 BOOK III 
 The Tragedy of a Brain 
 
 I. Drama of Character 81 
 
 II. The House of Art 85 
 
 III. Bricks without Straw 89 
 
 IV. Long Ago 90 
 
 V. The Tragic Stage 93 
 
 VI. Moral Tactics 95 
 
 VII.. New Life 97 
 
 VIII.. Conclusion , q8 
 
BOOK I 
 
 AN ARABIAN NIGHT'S STORY 
 

CHAPTER I 
 
 Nature and Art 
 
 MY profession is the Law : I make no pre 
 tence to philanthropy, and I dislike sentiment. 
 The good I may have done has not necessarily 
 risen from the best motives. An idle and 
 languid hour may have disposed me to watch 
 hitherto unknown forces, and the play of 
 strange motives, for mere amusement ; and I 
 may have found the sight of moral struggle 
 and distress not altogether unpleasant. If 
 then I feel it requisite to explain my interest 
 in the following case, it is because I feel how 
 far awakened sympathies tend to cloud the 
 judgment. 
 
 My client entered my office by hazard, as 
 he might have entered a shop ; the only 
 difference being that he was bold enough to 
 hope to get a legal commodity without paying 
 for it. 
 
Bjit fj^fpffe introducing my client I must ex 
 plain how I come to be telling his story. I 
 i arrv np^a writer of novels ; nor, indeed, do I 
 often read them. I have, however, read Cesar 
 Birroteau (as a manual on Bankruptcy) and a 
 few other works which are full either of 
 charming technicalities or of naive ignorance 
 of law. But writing that is a very different 
 matter. I try to be accurate, clear, and brief; 
 when I have a point, I know how to make it, 
 but my words have more weight than fine 
 ness. 
 
 The author asked me, as an observer and 
 a confidant in this affair, to co-operate with 
 him in his work. I know, said I, only how 
 to write documents. His reply to me was : 
 That is precisely what I want you to do to 
 draw up a document, a human document. 
 
 Case put that i consented, I asked him 
 whether he would put my narrative into book- 
 shape. To that he answered that he should 
 therein exercise his discretion, which would 
 probably teach him to let well alone. 
 
 But, I argued, a story in real life as we 
 lawyers hear it, is so abrupt, full of natural 
 gaps, suppressions, and possibilities which are 
 latent. 
 
 Very well then, said he, leave Nature alone; 
 I don't expect you to state things as they are, 
 
but as they seem. Abruptness is preferable 
 to monotony ; and as to suppressions, I find 
 reticence charming words can be used even 
 by adventurers and fools, but Truth herself 
 speaks in silences. 
 
 I pointed out that much of the story I had 
 only noted in my client's own words the 
 words of a mere boy, full of extravangances 
 that suffering and anger had made hfm 
 sometimes irrational, sometimes even silly. 
 
 He replied that he should not make a boy 
 speak as a sage, that it was out of foolishness, 
 weakness and the petty passions, that Nature 
 drew her pathos. 
 
 He is an old friend, and I know that it is 
 as futile arguing with his enthusiasm as with 
 his despondency. At last I pretty strongly- 
 suggested that he would turn out such a book 
 as had never been written, and that he was a 
 fool for his pains. I will conclude by giving 
 you his answer : 
 
 Let the man of letters be first of all a 
 gentleman, and follow Thackeray. Grant it 
 we are both fools, the great novelist has 
 taught us not to obtrude that, or any other 
 fact about ourselves, upon the Reader. Pas 
 sions which have moved even you cry out 
 for utterance : let such utterances find their 
 own level, and let authors be the unseen in- 
 
struments. You your dark office, tomes, 
 deed-boxes, and dry sayings are only the 
 frame of the picture : a suitable frame, plain, 
 solid, and sombre. As to your style, it is that 
 of the future, as the romantic and even the 
 classic style will be a thing of the past. 
 Witness our Master Stendhal, who cultivated 
 the absence of rhetoric which is natural to 
 you, and used to model his style on the Code 
 Napoleon. 
 
 Naturalistic novelists (he, with some reason, 
 continued) have lately taken the medical man 
 and his laboratory for their models, a dissect 
 ing-room of dead matter and a profession 
 notoriously materialistic ; little wonder then if 
 their works are lifeless. No ; law and not 
 medicine is the meeting-place of science and 
 philosophy : the lawyer knows more of man 
 kind than the physiologist ; and the deed-box 
 contains more exclusively human interest than 
 the medicine-chest. The " psychological mo 
 ment " (as it is called) is to be studied in the 
 cross-examination of witnesses, not in hospi 
 tal clinics. Medicine has no place in works 
 of combined imagination and observation ; 
 for if these deal with pathology, it is not that 
 of the dissecting-rooms, but of law, custom, 
 and institutions. 
 
It was a very dull time that he came to me, 
 some six years ago my strange client. I 
 was thinking of shutting up the office, and 
 going into the country for the week-end, when 
 my clerk told me that a gentleman, who would 
 not give his name, wished to see me. I or 
 dered him to be shown in, suspecting from 
 his refusing his name that he was someone 
 who had got into "trouble " with the law, or 
 perhaps a would-be borrower. But as I 
 turned and looked at him, the formal words, 
 "What can I do for you?" died on my lips, 
 so frightened, strange, and questioning was 
 his look. It was thus he spoke first 
 
 " Sir, I have no introduction to you, but I 
 am in great distress, and I only ask you to 
 
 five me a hearing. Afterwards you may see 
 t to help me, or you may not ; but in any 
 case it will relieve me to tell you my 
 trouble." 
 
 I answered that I should be pleased to 
 listen, and that he might safely tell me just 
 as much as he thought fit ; but that I would 
 at once stop him if I found his communication 
 likely to be of such a nature that I could not 
 be privy to it. 
 
 With a curious mixture of impetuosity and 
 embarrassment, he began a most extraordinary 
 tale ; and it is simply this tale which, with a 
 
few necessary comments, I now give to the 
 reader, only premising that I have added in 
 their place some details which he could not 
 mention on his. first visit., 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 A Sudden Blow 
 
 " This man's metallic, at a sudden blow 
 His soul rings hard." 
 
 I DO not know where to begin. I think, 
 however, I had better tell you what hap 
 pened five months ago in the office of a 
 money-lending solicitor, who does not enjoy 
 a good reputation. I was within six months 
 of coming of age, and I had just come up 
 from Cambridge, where, like many other 
 young men, I had made a fool of myself. 
 In fact, I had spent a half-year's allowance 
 in two months ; and, pending my majority, 
 my mother had agreed to make a weekly 
 advance from my legacy, of which she was 
 trustee. One day she told me to go to Mr. 
 Winch, the solicitor, to receive this allow 
 ance a strange proceeding, as that gentle 
 man was not the family solicitor and was 
 unknown to me. 
 
IO 
 
 On entering his room I saw two strangers 
 sitting there. One was Mr. Winch, who 
 wished me " Good day," and, after a peculiar 
 pause, introduced his companion as " Mr. 
 Wallace, an old and esteemed friend of your 
 mother. " 
 
 This stranger at once began in a pon 
 derous tone to ask me a most astounding 
 question : " Mr. Knollys, have you not an 
 uncontrollable desire to take away your own 
 life?" 
 
 Naturally I knew not what to say or do ; 
 I wondered if I was dreaming, or if my ques 
 tioner was intoxicated. At last I stammered 
 out " What an extraordinary question to ask 
 a stranger. You cannot expect me to answer 
 it/' 
 
 He continued, as if he had not even listened 
 to my reply, and as if he were hurrying through 
 a tedious form, " Ah ! and when you are in 
 the street do you not think that people are 
 going to kill you?" 
 
 I began to be alarmed, and to wonder, as I 
 think anyone would, whether this man was 
 out of his mind. I was moving to the door, 
 when at the last look I recognised his face, 
 and exclaimed, "Mr. Wallace, are you not 
 really Dr. Walford?" 
 
 He changed colour, and asked whatever 
 
II 
 
 could put such an extraordinary idea into my 
 head. 
 
 " My extraordinary idea," I replied, " was 
 caused by your conduct, for an alienist is the 
 only man privileged to ask such questions, 
 and I recognise your face from a caricature. 
 It was headed : ' How medical men advertise 
 contrary to the etiquette of their profession/ 
 and hinted that you found in every notorious 
 crime an apportunity for self-advertisement." 
 
 My indignation and the chance of turning 
 the tables on him had carried me away, and 
 it was only when I saw his face that I realised 
 that 1 had made an enemy of the man who 
 had me in his power. Without another word 
 he left the room and signed a lunacy certifi 
 cate. 
 
 Now, sir, I knew what the presence of 
 Dr. Walford meant. I had had a dispute 
 with my mother about money matters, and 
 had threatened to appeal to the Court of 
 Chancery, which would at least have halved 
 her income. She said "Oh! we will see 
 about that," and now was taking lunacy pro 
 ceedings against me through a man whose 
 very name was dreaded as a licensed rogue. 
 
 Danger brought me coolness and defiance. 
 I saw that every word would be twisted and 
 looked at from an alienist's standpoint, and 
 
12 
 
 that the greatest self-command would be 
 needed to defeat them. I remembered that 
 the law required two certificates, and was, 
 therefore, not surprised when a new comer 
 entered. 
 
 He was about forty years of age, and his 
 expression, though shrewd and collected, was 
 not unkindly. "Ah! Mr. Knollys, I am a 
 literary man, and your friends have asked me 
 to get you placed on the staff of some good 
 journal." 
 
 Looking him in the eyes, I replied " Sir, 
 I have but this moment been interviewed by 
 Dr. Walford with a view to proving me in 
 sane. Is it probable that * my friends' would 
 do this with a view to getting me employ 
 ment on the press. .Let me be frank: I 
 know that you are a medical man doing 
 your duty, and I will answer as calmly as 
 I can whatever questions you may choose 
 to ask me." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Knollys," he admitted, "we will 
 not dispute the point. Allow me, then, to ask 
 you if you have not a philosophical work for 
 which you expect several thousand pounds ?" 
 
 I protested that his was a leading question, 
 but that I was not writing a book, and, if I 
 were, should be glad to get a five-pound note 
 for my first attempt. 
 
13 
 
 " Well," he continued, "I suppose you get 
 all your articles accepted. " 
 
 This, of course, I denied, saying that I 
 had indeed only sent some boyish essays to 
 a parish magazine. Then he seriously began 
 to ask me many questions on very different 
 subjects, and, naturally, I took care to express 
 none but the most moderate views, and even 
 to make some allowance for his own personal 
 equation. Thus when he opened a religious 
 question, I remembered Sir T. Browne's Tres 
 medici duo atheistici, and said, therefore, that 
 within the boundaries of pure reason there 
 was room for great difference of opinion, that 
 what some men considered a matter for their 
 conscience others deemed "a conventional lie 
 of our civilisation," and cry, with Galileo, il 
 credere e cortesia, and that anyhow religious 
 heterodoxy was no longer a ground for im 
 prisonment. When he next suggested that 
 my affections were perverted, I firmly said 
 that as long as I smarted under the injury of 
 such an examination, I could not be expected 
 to be unbiassed, and that meanwhile calling 
 the instigators my friends was simply begging 
 the question. 
 
 Not the least interesting part was when he 
 put the crucial question whether I was con 
 scious of any eccentricity of character. I 
 
14 
 
 pointed out that I was at the Sturm und 
 Drang period of life, the very time when 
 slight eccentricities are natural, and even 
 healthy signs of moral and mental growth, 
 and added that what Balzac called his " con 
 gestion of ideas " was very different from 
 brain disease. 
 
 "The world," I said at last, " places a fearful 
 trust in your skill and honesty ; your sentence, 
 though it is secret and irresponsible, carries 
 with it a life-long stigma, if not perpetual im 
 prisonment. It is also final ; for the negative 
 is hard to prove, and one certificate of lunacy 
 outweighs twenty of sanity. You know I am 
 sane, you will not certify otherwise but more, 
 I implore you, in my agony of dread, by all 
 you hold sacred, to protect me." 
 
 Alas ! his honesty was merely negative : 
 he would not be mixed up in the affair, how 
 ever sorry for me he might me. He left the 
 room, saying that he could only promise me 
 that he would have nothing to do with it, 
 and immediately afterwards I heard him drive 
 away. 
 
 My visitor's story was unexpected and even 
 alarming. His demeanour, though agitated, 
 showed no sign of mental disease ; but so 
 
terrible is the stigma of such a charge, that 
 I had from the first an uneasy feeling that 
 there must be something in it. Nevertheless 
 I determined to give him a fair hearing, and 
 saying that he was telling his story with re 
 markable clearness, I asked him to continue. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 The Jackal 
 
 u . . . slander, 
 
 Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue 
 Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath 
 Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie 
 All corners of the world." 
 
 Cymbelme, 
 
 I THOUGHT that, after all, their attempt against 
 me would prove abortive, and my relief was 
 intensified when Mr. Winch entered the 
 room and proceeded to write a cheque for my 
 allowance. When he had written it he left 
 the room, with the explanation that he had to 
 send it out to be cashed for me. I am not 
 naturally suspicious, but the circumstances 
 were so unusual, that I went to his cheque 
 book and looked at the counterfoil, which 
 should have been five pounds to Cecil Knollys, 
 I found, however, that it was "2 Self" which 
 again aroused my apprehensions. 
 
 Then I went to the door and found it locked. 
 
17 
 
 I heard a cab dash off, and I knew that they 
 were trying to get another certificate ; for, one 
 step taken, they dared not stop. 
 
 What could I do, Sir? Many young men 
 would say ' Why in the world did you stop 
 there, why didn't you break the door down, 
 get through the window, or cry for help ? ' 
 But had I done so, my violence would by my 
 accusers have been construed into an indis 
 putable symptom of madness. No : I could 
 only wait and pray that such an utter rogue 
 as Dr. Walford could not be found in 
 London. 
 
 I had arrived all but punctual to my ap 
 pointment at five : it was now past six. 
 Thinking of all the terrible rumours of private 
 asylums I began to be half-stupefied with 
 dread. I sat a prisoner for what seemed many 
 hours, but at eight o'clock the key was turned 
 and Dr. Walford entered the room. He was 
 arm in arm with an elderly man, and asked 
 me, " Have you any objection to answering 
 this gentleman a few questions ? " To this I 
 consented. 
 
 The new comer was very deaf. He took 
 a chair very close to me, and said in a careless, 
 husky tone, " Ah ! not been feeling very well 
 lately. Been rather fast, billiards, and that 
 sort of thing?" 
 
 6 
 
1 8 
 
 I began to answer, " Well, I don't admit 
 that, but I may have been foolish like many 
 other youngsters on first going to a Univer 
 sity, but that is all." 
 
 Scarcely had I uttered the words when he 
 left the room, and I did not see him again. 
 I naturally thought that seeing the common- 
 sense way in which I had answered him, he 
 had at once discovered that it was a case 
 unworthy of consideration. However, the 
 door was still locked, and in a few minutes a 
 clerk came in and took from a shelf a small 
 leather-bound book, which I at once saw was 
 a Testament. Then I knew that all hope 
 was lost, for they were about to swear to my 
 lunacy. 
 
 I then went to the lawyer's desk, deter 
 mined to write a note and send it to him. I 
 was well aware that whatever I wrote might 
 be misconstrued, so, although it cost me an 
 effort, I wrote a merely formal letter, which 
 I can repeat from memory. 
 
 iSth December, 189 . 
 
 Sir, This day I have been interviewed in your 
 office by medical men, with a view to certify me a 
 lunatic. I shall hold you responsible for whatever 
 occurs here, and I demand, if I am judged insane, 
 that 1 be sent to a public and not to a private asylum. 
 You can have no bena fide reason for refusing this 
 request. 
 
After having knocked at the door till it 
 was opened, I gave this letter to a clerk to 
 deliver to Mr. Winch. As I did so I heard 
 someone cry, " Lock that door !" 
 
 Lock that door / 
 
 C 2 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Descensus Averni 
 
 " Lasciate ogni speranzo a i>oi che 'nirate" 
 
 Inf. c. iii., 9. 
 
 ANOTHER half hour of awful suspense, another 
 rattle of cabs in the street, and the door was 
 once more opened. 
 
 "This way, sir," said the lawyer's clerk; 
 and I saw two men standing in the passage. 
 The one a man of perhaps fifty, the other 
 some years younger both, as I guessed, the 
 keepers of some private asylum. 
 
 I needed all my courage not to break down. 
 " One moment! Understand that I shall 
 make no resistance, and you have no excuse 
 for using any restraint." Then I followed 
 the men to the door, and was hustled into a 
 brougham and pair which was waiting. 
 
 Up the Strand we drove, past the Law 
 Courts, through Leicester Square and the 
 
21 
 
 busy West End, leaving behind us the sub 
 urbs, and out into the open country. The 
 one fellow sat by my side ; the other, in front 
 of me, almost pinioned my legs with his. At 
 first not a word passed, but, on nearing the 
 open fields, I asked where they were taking 
 me. They replied that I must not excite 
 myself, and that, as I was a little out of sorts, 
 I was going to some friends in the country. 
 
 Then, trying to speak carelessly, I said, 
 " I may be mad, but I am not a fool, and I 
 know that I am on the way to an asylum. 
 We left the lawyer's office at twenty minutes 
 to nine, it is now nearly ten : when shall we 
 get there ? At least tell me where I am 
 going." 
 
 The fellow made an evasive answer, 
 and then, in order to make me lose my self- 
 control, tried to frighten me by telling re 
 volting tales of madhouses. He asked his 
 friend whether he did not remember that 
 nice young gentleman (just like this one, as 
 reasonable as might be) whom they took to 
 the same place. Poor fellow ! he is chained 
 to his cell now. 
 
 But even then I kept my temper, for I 
 feared that if they put me under any physical 
 restraint, I might actually lose my reason. 
 The roads were becoming heavy and we 
 
22 
 
 went slowly. As a contrast to my misery, it 
 was a resplendent moonlight night, and my 
 attendants were in the best of spirits. 
 
 The horses came to a standstill outside a 
 village inn, at a little past eleven, and here 
 one of the men got out to ask the way, as I 
 imagined, and to get some refreshment for 
 himself. A small crowd soon gathered round 
 the carriage, and now for the first time losing 
 my presence of mind, I implored them to res 
 cue me, saying that I was a sane man. But 
 the moment the words escaped me I wished to 
 draw them back, for the keeper gave a cool 
 wink and touched his head, significantly, and 
 the crowd of fools began to stare as if I were 
 some wild beast show. 
 
 At last we continued our journey, which 
 now seemed interminable. It was nearly one 
 o'clock in the morning, and I was beginning 
 to think that we had lost our way, when at 
 last we drove through park gates to a House 
 which stood hidden in trees some distance 
 from the road. A bell was rung loudly, and 
 a man, after a careful scrutiny, let us in, and 
 I was gently pushed through a door which 
 might have been inscribed with those words 
 which the Florentine places over that of 
 Avernus. 
 
 The proprietor was standing in the hall, 
 
23 
 
 and, leaving the attendants, I at once asked 
 for a private interview on my reception. 
 
 "What! at this hour of the morning?" he 
 exclaimed ; but I retorted that if it were a 
 proper time to bring me to such a place, it 
 was a proper time to attend to me. " Very 
 well then," he answered, " what have you f* 
 say?" 
 
 " Doctor, I have been brought here as ^ 
 madman. I am not unwise enough to tell 
 you that I am sane, because I know that 
 every lunatic can say that. Anything I can 
 say will not prove a negative. You can only 
 discover my s.-.nity by watching me care 
 fully, and, in order that you may do so, I 
 am prepared to stay here quietly, and to 
 conform to reasonable regulations. All I 
 beg you is to let the trial be a fair one, and 
 not to place me amongst prejudicial sur 
 roundings." 
 
 He seemed surprised at such an address 
 from a patient brought to his asylum in the 
 middle of the night. "Well Sir/' he said, 
 "you have hit on a very ingenious way to 
 prove your sanity : most lunatics, in fact, do 
 tell us that they are sane. Be assured that 
 you will be fairly treated here, and if it should 
 prove that any mistake has been made in 
 your case, you will undoubtedly be released" 
 
24 
 
 " I naturally wonder how far you mean 
 what you say. You will at least give a private 
 room, and keep me apart from the other 
 patients ? " 
 
 The Doctor then rang- a bell, and the night 
 watchman appeared, was asked what pri 
 vate rooms were then disengaged, and named 
 several. But now the Doctor looked at the 
 letters which the attendants had brought from 
 Dr. Walford, and his manner changed. He 
 spoke rapidly and harshly, in obvious per 
 plexity. 
 
 " I regret," he_said simply, " that we cannot 
 accede to your request. " 
 
 He turned to the night watchman and told 
 him to place me in room 1 1 ; and thus that 
 very night, after eight hours' suspense, I found 
 myself under lock and key in a room with 
 lunatics. 
 
 My client paused, and I saw that he was 
 thinking of scenes that were still full of horror 
 for him. My doubts as to his sanity were 
 disappearing, and I determined to let him tell 
 me as much as he pleased without allowing 
 him to go to useless or unnecessary pain in the 
 recital. Before he continues I may mention 
 
25 
 
 that at this point I begin to supplement the 
 narrative with a few details. It still, however, 
 continues a narrative of plain and hideous 
 fact : its full significance, the true character 
 of mother and son, will appear later. And in 
 this I follow Maupassant's dictum, that 
 ^0pcf)ologp 05oulD be concealed in tlje boofe, 
 ag it i0 in reality, unDer tlje factg of existence* 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 The Wandering Moon 
 
 THE room is black darkness, but soon the 
 moon casts a vague light between the shadows, 
 showing the beds of unknown madness within 
 reach of mine. Have you heard the moans 
 of a sleeping dog, sir ? Such were the sounds 
 around me, and from a silent corner I almost 
 fancied that I felt the influence of eyes lit 
 with mania. How many tragedies are re 
 corded in these sleepers of love, may be, and 
 ruin. Do they never dream of sanity, wake, 
 and for a moment think and feel ? 
 
 A dim shadow rises up in bed, mutters in 
 coherent words a foul expression and an 
 oath, a sob, some woman's name and then 
 sinks again into noiseless sleep. 
 
 Silence, memory, thought these mute hor 
 rors around me, and the memories of the day 
 and of the woman who loved me and was 
 waiting. 
 
27 
 
 In a corner someone rose suddenly. I 
 heard the sound of bare feet as they fur 
 tively, slowly, came towards me. It was dark 
 for the moment, but I knew that someone was 
 standing by my bed, was bending over me. 
 I heard his quick-drawn breath, and then I 
 felt the thinness of a hand feeling my face as 
 if in curiosity. In mortal dread I closed my 
 eyes, and, as I felt the touch of a hand on 
 my eyelid, there escaped me an echoing panic 
 scream in which all the pent-up agony of a 
 day was heard and told through every ward 
 and den. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 A New Tribunal 
 
 IT is morning. The madhouse bell wakes 
 me from a swooning sleep, and for the first 
 time I see the room and its occupants. But 
 I have no time for reflections ; it is time to 
 be up and suffering. 
 
 I will rapidly pass over the first days of my 
 detention ; the breakfast with the jibbering 
 vis d vis, the neighbour a melancholiac, who 
 had for ten years continually muttered "Dead 
 and damned "; the blunted knives, a necessary 
 precaution in a room with a hundred madmen ; 
 the Sunday prayers, in which the proprietor 
 prayed for the fatherless and the captive 
 whilst I pondered the Exaudi Dens. 
 
 My only hope now was that the asylum peo 
 ple might bond fide believe me to be mad, for in 
 that case it might not be useless to prove my 
 sanity. I piqued the curiosity of the keepers 
 
2 9 
 
 by making no complaint, and one of them 
 soon told me that he had only to see my eye 
 and step to know that I was sane. I soon 
 learnt, however, that vulgarity and reckless 
 ness were considered the best proofs of sanity 
 by men incapable of understanding much else. 
 
 When, after two days' suspense, the doctor 
 asked me if I was feeling calmer, I suppressed 
 my indignation, and quietly asked what were 
 the grounds of my arrest. 
 
 He began the professional rigmarole by 
 saying that I was suicidal. To which I an 
 swered that I had been a free man for nearly 
 twenty-one years, during which my life had 
 been in my own power, and that I had never 
 made any attempt against it ; that placing me 
 in a hopeless place in such a morbid environ 
 ment was not calculated to make me esteem 
 life more. I added that he evidently knew 
 the charge was absurd, since he was taking 
 no precautions ; that suicide could never 
 be prevented whilst a window would furnish 
 broken glass or a flight of stairs a broken 
 neck. 
 
 " Dr. Walford," he then said, "asserts that, 
 when you are in a street, you imagine that 
 people are going to kill you." 
 
 " What," I cried! " Suicidal and fear people 
 are going to kill me ! Were I about to kill 
 
3 
 
 myself, I should not fear that anyone else 
 would incur the terrible responsibility for me. 
 The two charges are incompatible and, there 
 fore, they at least come to nothing at all. 
 
 He then said that I was accused of thinking 
 myself to be " Almighty God" a phrase 
 made more awful by the words he used. 
 
 I ventured to say that if he would tell me 
 what he meant precisely by " Almighty God," 
 I could then argue with him, but that other 
 wise the charge was sheer invention, and the 
 blasphemy his. 
 
 Well, putting aside these eccentricities, 
 which you deny, is it not true that you were 
 about to marry a worthless woman? 
 
 I said that in my opinion this question did 
 not pertain to his enquiry ; but that, never 
 theless, I would answer it if he would tell me 
 to whom he referred. 
 
 He mentioned a certain name, admitting 
 that the signer of certificates had confided 
 that one of the real, though not ostensible, 
 reasons for these proceedings was to prevent 
 my ruining my life by an irrevocable step. 
 Then lapsing into cant, which is easier than 
 argument, he abused me for philandering 
 with a married woman. 
 
 Sir, I cried, cannot you see how desperate 
 all these charges are ? What a picture you 
 
3* 
 
 are conjuring up ! A God who wants to kill 
 himself, and is yet afraid of being killed iri 
 the street a man who is about (on the eve 
 of suicide) to incur an indisoluble marriage 
 with a married woman. 
 
 Now, doctor, you are not much older than 
 I am, but this place must speedily make you a 
 man of the world. My so-called friends have 
 bethought them that " if they throw enough 
 mud, some of it must stick ;" that though I 
 may disprove each single charge, I cannot 
 dispel the whole cloud of lies and show its 
 origin in a fraudulent intent. They hope that 
 people will wisely say there must be some 
 thing in it all, there is no smoke without fire, 
 there is a grain of truth in all the chaff. Thus 
 they have not been content with exhibiting 
 me as an ordinary prey to a single delusion, 
 but they have made (what is as dangerous in 
 such a case as a forensic double defence) a 
 multiple attack, an indictment with alterna 
 tive and contradictory counts. 
 
 I ask you, as a man of the world, can you 
 not see the result? Why, man, they have 
 overdone it ! 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 In the Nature of a Climax 
 
 MY sleeping- room was on the first floor ; the 
 windows were locked. Each night I crept 
 to them to pry them, and had hidden a long 
 lavatory towel to form a rope. One night, it 
 was about one o'clock, I found the window 
 gave at my touch ! I did not push it up for 
 fear the cold air would wake the keeper. 
 My clothes were outside the door, according 
 to rule, and the sleeping keeper had the key. 
 I crawled to his bed and, still on my knees, 
 took the key from his pillow without waking 
 him, unlocked the door, took my clothes, and 
 dressed my boots last. Then I fastened 
 my rope to the chair and pushed at the win 
 dow. It only opened three inches. It was 
 half locked! ' 
 
 Quietly I undressed, replaced my clothes, 
 locked myself in (only just before the watch- 
 
33 
 
 man passed), crawled to the keeper, and 
 tremblingly gave back the key, and got into 
 bed. 
 
 The next night I unscrewed a window and 
 escaped. All night I walked, and in the 
 morning found myself worn and overwrought 
 at the door of the woman I loved. The very 
 day I had been taken I should have carried 
 her help and comfort in her illness and dis 
 tress ; I had disappeared in the hour of 
 her need, and she had not heard of me for 
 three months. But I forgot all my agony in 
 my love ; and when I knocked at her door, 
 she sent a servant to say that she did not 
 wish ever to see me again. 
 
 Then I understood what she had thought 
 of me, and, going to a tavern, I wrote a letter, 
 telling her all. I took this letter to her, but 
 my hand was no sooner on her gate than I 
 was lightly touched on the arm. It was the 
 head keeper ! 
 
 " I expect you did not think to see me 
 here?" 
 
 " No ; what then ?" 
 
 " You are coming back, of course." 
 
 " You forget that you have no keepers or 
 strong rooms here ; we are man to man." 
 
 " Shut it. I have only to touch my head, 
 and wink that you are mad, and every passer- 
 
34 
 
 by will hunt you down like a mad dog and 
 you know it. 
 
 " Agreed ! You can take advantage of the 
 ignorant cowardice of the public, but so can 
 I. I shall touch my head and say that you 
 are mad. We shall be quits then. 
 
 * * Oh no, we won't ! I have your certificates 
 and a witness. Now you have your choice ; 
 come freely, or come tied up, but corne you 
 must. Williams, take that letter from him." 
 
 They took me down by train. At the 
 London Terminus (to save a scene) they did 
 not stand within ten yards of me. There I 
 walked, apparently a free man in the midst 
 of my fellows, and yet was being dragged 
 back to hopeless horrors by the mere force 
 of a lunacy certificate in the pocket of a dis 
 charged groom. 
 
 Meanwhile my mother had heard with ter 
 ror of my escape, and, through information 
 obtained from stolen papers, had found Isabel's 
 address, and had herself sent the keepers there 
 in the hope that I should be taken back that 
 same night by the last train. In fear for her 
 
35 
 
 own reputation she went to the station, and 
 waited to see, lying hid in the waiting-room. 
 I saw her there, and before the keepers could 
 stop me fawned at her feet, told her that she 
 held my brain, my life, my very soul in her 
 hands, for which, if there be any moral go* 
 vernment of the world, she must account. And 
 when tears and prayers were useless, and I 
 saw her deliver me to the supreme agony of 
 recapture, to madness, and, in the end, an 
 awful death, I cursed her in her laughter, in 
 her dreams, in her old age. 
 
 Sneers give way to fury, and, pretending 
 not to know me, she said it was disgraceful 
 that keepers should permit a madman to in 
 sult ladies ; and I was carried away into the 
 train. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The Question of the Soul 
 
 "... Eats into my sinews and dissolves my flesh to 
 a pollution, poisoning the subtle, pure, and inmost spirit of 
 life." 
 
 The Cenci. 
 
 MY life after my return might form an epic 
 of terror : no longer dazed with a sudden 
 blow, I now fully realised my future, without 
 reasonable hope. " You will not escape us 
 again," was a mock I heard on every side. 
 
 Placed with forty patients in a gallery, which 
 contained two doorless rooms and a padded 
 cell, I was there confined from morning to 
 night. Some were slowly dying from soften 
 ing of the brain and became more helpless, 
 filthier, day by day ; some were epileptics, 
 who had daily fits ; the rest were raving 
 madmen. 
 
 What sights and sounds ! Shouts of blas 
 phemy, obscenity, shrieks of despair ; sing- 
 
37 
 
 ing, sobbing, and I hear it now laughter. 
 Fighting, beastliness, a frantic running there 
 was no respite for prayer, at meals, at any 
 time. There was no holy semibreve of silence 
 in this devil's anthem this tarantella of sight 
 and sound to which my thoughts danced into 
 madness. 
 
 How could I sleep at night with sixteen 
 others in a room which led to the dormitories 
 of a hundred men ? In these sights and sounds 
 and fetid air, a young man, I never caught 
 a glimpse of Nature undiseased. Between 
 waking and sleeping I heard blasphemies 
 which seemed to tell of a lost soul rather than 
 a lost mind. 
 
 When at last I fell asleep, it was only to be 
 dragged from the bed and placed in the day 
 gallery. There, exhausted, I dosed day after 
 day ; and even in sleep, their cries, their 
 touches mingled with my dreams. There was 
 no oblivion. 
 
 At times the doctor came to look at me, 
 but his visits his were " like those of angels, 
 short and far between." He asked me if I 
 was being cured of the delusion of sanity 
 "time," he added, " works wonders. 
 
 He knew the power of tendency//^ fear, 
 plus environment ; he calculated the contagion 
 
of numbers ; he knew that every cry that 
 pealed out into the night and broke my rest 
 was the death-knell of my reason. Knowing 
 this, I say, he was deliberately driving me 
 mad for fear I should prove my sanity some 
 day. Having succeeded, he would then juggle 
 cause and effect, and justify his conduct by 
 its result. It was my very brain he touched, 
 but not my "person," and his conduct was 
 legal. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 The Other Man 
 
 ONE evening as I was leaning at the locked 
 door, which kept me from the convalescent 
 and quieter cases, it was suddenly opened 
 and a man was thrust in. He sat down and 
 looked savagely round him, and for the mo 
 ment I thought him a dangerous madman. 
 But suddenly he seemed to pray, and in some 
 way suspecting his sanity, I spoke to him. 
 
 "If you are a sane man, believe that I too 
 may be sane, although we meet here. You 
 have a friend, and God knows whether 
 between us we may not both manage to 
 escape." 
 
 He looked sullenly at me, but gave no 
 answer. The next day, however, he asked 
 my forgiveness for not responding to my 
 kindness. He explained that he had found 
 himself thrown amongst madmen by a trick, 
 and knew not whom to trust, 
 
40 
 
 The authorities soon saw that the alliance 
 of two sane men was defeating their plans. 
 It was hope which they saw in our eyes, 
 which frightened them, and they separated 
 us. 
 
 My friend, Herbert Lane, within a month 
 made eight desperate attempts to escape. 
 He had indomitable spirit, and though they 
 bound him hand and foot, and threw him like 
 a maniac into a padded room, he only renewed 
 his attempt the next day. At last I heard that 
 he was no longer in the asylum. 
 
 At the end of ten weeks from my recapture 
 a keeper with whom I had tampered showed 
 signs of giving way. Shortly afterwards he 
 was told to take a party of six " invalids " for 
 exercise across the fields in the immediate 
 neighbourhood. This was my opportunity. 
 
 I must here explain that, when I was re 
 captured, one of the keepers had offered, as a 
 friend, to hide any papers or money for me, 
 as I was about to be searched ; but I at once 
 guessed that it was a clever trick to obtain 
 what I might otherwise have successfully con 
 cealed, and only gave him a few pence and 
 some papers of little importance. I then 
 wrapt a sovereign in some dirty paper, and 
 threw it into a heap of rubbish which was 
 permanently in one of the day rooms. This 
 
41 
 
 coin had never been discovered, and now, on 
 hearing that I was to be taken out for exer 
 cise, I put it in my pocket. 
 
 Although it was a warm day, I took an 
 ulster with me. I meant to escape and to 
 die before I was recaptured. Here seemed 
 my last hope of liberty and life : I must now 
 " arise or be for ever fallen," 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 Libertatis sacra fames 
 
 " The man who makes his escape, we repeat, is inspired ; 
 the effort towards deliverance is no less surprising than the 
 flight towards the sublime. The thirst for liberty changes 
 intelligence into genius." 
 
 V. Hugo. 
 
 I KNEW that the keeper was irresolute, and 
 feared lest he should betray me at the last 
 moment. Therefore I did not tell him that 
 I meant to escape, until we had reached a 
 stile leading on to the high road which was 
 the limit of our walk. 
 
 " Somers," I then said, " you have promised 
 to help me to escape. Well, I only keep you 
 to your promise : I shall run now, and if you 
 attempt to catch me, you must leave these 
 five who are lunatics. If you try and fail 
 to catch me, you will still be blamed by your 
 master, but you will get no help from me. 
 On the other hand, delay notice of my escape 
 
43 
 
 for half an hour, and I will do what I can for 
 
 )j 
 you. 
 
 The man Somers was alarmed at his posi 
 tion, but carried away by my boldness and 
 by the sight of the money which indicated 
 friends outside, he exclaimed with an oath 
 that escape I should. To deceive the cunning 
 espionage of the lunatics, I shouted to him to 
 go on whilst I tied a boot-lace ; and when he 
 had disappeared behind the hedge I ran. 
 
 Ran for life, ran with horror behind me, 
 Life and Hope in front, and possible Ven 
 geance in the distance. 
 
 After the first hundred yards I nearly 
 fainted, so sudden and so terrible had been 
 my effort. A moment I stopped, and then 
 tore on blood at the mouth. I overtook 
 a trap, and feared that the driver would 
 suspect and stop me. To avert suspicion, 
 although I knew his horse could not go as 
 fast as I, I asked him to give me a lift, as 
 " I was running for a doctor." 
 
 I suppose he knew the truth, for he 
 brusquely refused, saying that he was not 
 going my way. However, as he made no 
 attempt to catch me it was a dangerous busi 
 ness, and not his I soon left him far behind. 
 Presently I neared a village, the streets all full 
 of people coming out of church. I was still 
 
44 
 
 carrying my ulster (which I meant to sell), 
 I was very flushed, and my tie was blooded. 
 I cooled my face at a brook, turned my tie, 
 and made myself walk slowly through the 
 village, risking all on the chance that no 
 telegram announcing my escape had yet 
 arrived. 
 
 The village past, I ran again. Every 
 sigh for freedom was repeated in each gasp 
 for breath. Quicker ! quicker ! ! quicker ! ! ! 
 Every moment I feared a trap must over 
 take me. Before I reached the next town 
 I knew the police would be warned by wire 
 to be on the look out. I broke through a 
 hedge to rest a moment, and then I saw 
 something gleaming in the distance the 
 river ! Could I but reach the other side, I 
 might be safe. 
 
 I ran to the river bank. A pleasure party 
 was passing, and I asked them to put me 
 across, and they did so. The opposite tow- 
 path reached, I felt safe. I plunged into 
 some fields out of sight of the river, and, 
 hidden under a hedge, I fainted. 
 
 When I revived it was sunset and was 
 getting cold ; but before night I wished to 
 run to earth in the great city. I saw the 
 bridge in the distance, and walked rapidly 
 on ; but before reaching there, I deliberated. 
 
45 
 
 I dare not go to the railway station, as they 
 would have wired my description down the 
 line, nor dare I walk along the road for fear 
 of the police or a trap from the asylum. The 
 only other way was to follow the winding 
 tow-path, and by this I could not reach 
 London that night. 
 
 But when I reached the bridge I throbbed 
 with happiness at the sight of a mob of excur 
 sionists, pleasure 'busses, and gd. tea-houses. 
 I entered one of these, for I knew that no 
 one would think of looking for me there, and 
 the good woman was too busy to scrutinise 
 her customers. Having rested a little, I 
 thought boldness shall carry me through, 
 and, hidden in a crowd of merrymakers, I 
 rode to London on the top of a four-in-hand 
 omnibus. 
 
BOOK II 
 
 THE CYNIC 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 A Study in Irrelevance 
 
 " The first chapter of every book was not to continue the 
 narrative, but should consist of anything the author chose to 
 entertain his reader with." 
 
 On the New Species of Writing (1730). 
 
 OUR old-fashioned novelists knew how to 
 tell a story, and did not break into it with 
 unseemly controversies or explanations. All 
 digressive matter they relegated to a special 
 chapter, which was avowedly irrelevant, 
 whilst they reserved the rest of the book for 
 story-telling and nothing else. No author 
 can tell a good story if he continually inter 
 rupts it with little speeches to the reader : 
 the old style seems much better to wait like 
 a decent theatrical manager to address the 
 house between the acts. 
 
 In this experimental chapter, the author 
 seeks to place the reader at his own point of 
 
view, and to explain why he has reduced the 
 second book to about one tenth of its prosaic 
 proportions. 
 
 The course of the story now takes us to 
 the examination of evidence, the detection 
 of motives, and other business-like subjects, 
 which, however admirable in detective stories, 
 seem out of place in a novel. Without self- 
 restraint and careful reticence, indeed, the 
 work of imagination will slip into the Blue 
 Book spirit. 
 
 A man of genius paradoxically said that it 
 is a great pity for a literary artist to have a 
 story, as he would probably tell it. If the 
 mere enumeration of sordid crimes and com 
 mon-place motives would weaken my story, 
 and if I can heighten its effect by a bold 
 neglect of such details, what matter if the 
 Gradgrinds of fiction condemn it as "in 
 adequate." 
 
 Eclaircissement is so often inartistic. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 The Narrative Continues 
 
 MY client was now nearing the end of his 
 long story, and worn with the fatigue and 
 excitement, spoke briefly and rapidly. In 
 this way he gave me but a faint idea of the 
 fantastic adventures of a hunted man in 
 London. Such adventures might fill many 
 a chapter with interest and sensation, but the 
 facts are almost two bizarre for serious fiction, 
 and are not essential to the story. What 
 follows, therefore, is merely a hurried sum 
 mary of his concluding words. 
 
 On reaching London, he took his con 
 spicuous over-coat to a railway cloak room, 
 and then went to a cheap lodging-house. 
 There he met an artist named Halifax, a 
 scapegrace indeed, but yet a kindly gentle 
 man. Cecil confided in him, and they began, 
 by his advice, a strange search for some 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 unlikely hiding-place. They had first gone 
 to a Roman Catholic " Home for the Dying," 
 to which the artist had subscribed through 
 all his straits. But here the matron, though 
 an old friend, was obliged to refuse Cecil a 
 refuge, but suggested another. This turned 
 out to be a house which boldly announced 
 from every window that it was a " Governess 
 Agency and Home." It was now deserted, 
 however, and the rooms were to let. Hali 
 fax satisfied the landlady in some ingenious 
 way as to his companion's lack of baggage, 
 gave the address of some relative by way of 
 reference, and took the rooms. He then re* 
 membered that an old medical friend was 
 living near, and him he asked to visit Cecil, 
 and, with his consent, to report on his men 
 tal condition. After a week of inaction, 
 Cecil took the matter into his own hands, 
 and, having seen my name reported in some 
 small case, was come to me. 
 
 His Arabian Night-like story had set my 
 brain in a whirl. I was surprised to find it 
 eight o'clock, and the city streets all deserted. 
 But, however late it might be, I was deter 
 mined to have some proof of his account that 
 very night. Not that I believed it, for I am 
 not of a credulous disposition, but the story 
 was so connected, and had, moreover, so sur- 
 
53 
 
 prised my interest, that some examination of 
 it seemed imperative. 
 
 Hitherto I had been afraid to question 
 him lest I should embarrass the flow of his 
 narrative, but I now asked him for definite 
 names and addresses. 
 
 " Here," he replied, "is the certificate and 
 address of Dr. Friendly, also that of my 
 friend Mr. Halifax, and of my private tutor, 
 who knew me before these events. This 
 is the name of the asylum in which I was 
 confined, and whose servants are at present 
 searching for me." 
 
 " You see that I have given you my whole 
 confidence. Now for the first step which I 
 beg you to take. Will you write to the 
 asylum and enquire whether I was confined 
 there, and ask for a copy of the certificates ? 
 You can then compare them with what you 
 yourself see, and with all the evidence I may 
 be able to bring you as to my sanity. Why! 
 I can bring witnesses both those who knew 
 me up to the very day when I was captured, 
 and those who have known me since the day 
 I escaped." 
 
 Then, when I had noted the addresses in 
 my pocket-book, he left me. I had been on 
 the point of asking my strange client to come 
 with me to my house, but second thoughts 
 
54 
 
 cautioned me against committing myself, as 
 yet, in any way. So I merely promised to 
 make some enquiries, and asked him to call 
 on the following Thursday. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 First Steps 
 
 THAT same night I took the first steps in 
 the elucidation of this curious case. I am 
 tempted to continue the story by simply 
 giving a copy of the subsequent correspon 
 dence ; but it is not the most interesting form 
 of narration, and brings in much that might 
 well be omitted. I wrote first to Mr. Hali 
 fax and Dr. Friendly, and asked them to call 
 on me, and then I sent the following carefully 
 considered letter to the Asylum proprietors : 
 
 MONUMENT CHAMBERS, E.G. 
 3 July, 189 . 
 
 W. FRANCIS, Esq., M.D., F.R.C.S. 
 
 Dear Sir, Mr. Cecil Knollys has consulted 
 me, and states that he escaped from your house on 
 the 1 5th instant, having been there confined for five 
 months. 
 
 He alleges that he was a sane man when you 
 received him, and this statement seems to be sup- 
 
56 
 
 ported by his present language and conduct. He 
 declares his certificates to have been signed by Wai- 
 ford, who is well known, and by a Dr. Harding, who 
 has since become bankrupt and left his hospital. 
 
 I am now applying to you for a copy of these 
 certificates ; but I may add that I am not at present 
 an advocate of Mr. Sackville's case, and shall be ready 
 to consider any contradiction of his statements which 
 you may see fit to send me. Is it true that he has 
 been confined in a passage with forty dangerous 
 lunatics during the day, and placed to sleep with 
 sixteen noisy cases ? 
 
 I am, &c., 
 
 J.G. 
 
 I posted the letter myself, and, on my re 
 turn, sat down to consider Dr. Friendly's 
 certificate, which ran as follows : 
 
 I have to certify that I have had Mr. Cecil Knollys 
 under my constant and earnest observation for the 
 last week. I have had long conversations with him 
 on tentative subjects, have received letters from him, 
 and have admitted him to my family circle. His 
 state of mind is incompatible with any form of mania 
 which I have ever seen. Indeed, it is at present not 
 too much to say that he is an epitome of absolute 
 sanity. I have, therefore, come to the conclusion that 
 any allegation of recent mental disease is utterly out 
 of the question, and this opinion I shall be prepared 
 to support if occasion arises. 
 
 (Signed) HORACE FRIENDLY, M.D., F.R.C.S. 
 
 Now how far can I rely on this certificate 
 of sanity ? Is Dr. Friendly sufficiently skilled 
 in this department of his profession ? Is it 
 
57 
 
 indeed certain that he has ever even seen a 
 a lunatic, or has received the most rudimen 
 tary instruction in psychological medicine? 
 Is even a week time enough to form an 
 opinion of any value ? Is he himself of good 
 character, prudent, and unprejudiced? But 
 why need I ask these questions, when the law 
 of this country asks none before allowing the 
 same man to certify lunacy, practically beyond 
 the possibility of contradiction ? 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 A Friend 
 
 I WAS in the midst of my morning corres 
 pondence, the following Thursday, when my 
 clerk announced Mr. Halifax. I thanked 
 him for his visit and then asked him to tell 
 me whatever he knew about Mr. Knollys' 
 story. I found his account to be substantially 
 the same as that already given by Mr. Knollys 
 himself. To this, however, he added the 
 following comments. 
 
 " Mr. Knollys," he said, " had shown no 
 signs of aberration, although naturally he 
 showed great mental distress. This, however, 
 he had at first attributed to some love-tale ; 
 and, Knollys, indeed, in order to elude the 
 curiosity of some bystanders, had once audibly 
 muttered some such phrases as ' Curse the 
 girl ' and talked of enlistment." 
 
 As to the details of the young man's 
 account, he was disposed to believe it not 
 
59 
 
 much exaggerated, but he acknowledged that 
 his artistic temperament was prejudiced in 
 favour of the unusual. That the man was 
 sane, was evident enough, and to his mind 
 had always been so. If, therefore, the pro 
 prietor admitted the detention of such a man 
 for so many months, his report of his treat 
 ment during that time must be largely dis 
 credited. 
 
 At this point I suggested that Mr. Halifax 
 might like to give me some information about 
 himself. He very sensibly took my hint, and 
 explained that, owing to what he called " a 
 Bohemian aversion to inhabited house duty," 
 he lived for the most part at an inn, in a gar 
 ret, or even at some small lodging-house ; but 
 that he retained his studio and sanctum in the 
 house of his mother, the Hon. Mrs. Halifax. 
 
 When I asked him what he knew about 
 Dr. Friendly, his answer was simple but con 
 clusive. He said that, appreciating Knollys' 
 great need and wishing to be helpful to him, 
 he had thought over all his acquaintance in 
 search of an honest and kindly man, who 
 would advise him in a disinterested manner. 
 
 After this charming tribute to his friend's 
 character, Mr. Halifax left me, after asking 
 me to do my utmost in the cause of mis 
 fortune. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 The Other Side 
 
 THE reply which I had that morning received 
 from the asylum was much as I expected. 
 Of course they denied the accuracy and truth 
 fulness of my client ; but they delayed send 
 ing copies of certificates under the pretext of 
 a claim for fee. This to me seemed proof 
 enough that they were actually signed by 
 Messrs. Walford and Harding ; for, if not, 
 Dr. Francis would have discredited my client's 
 charges by proving the certificates to be other 
 wise signed. It is always easy for a brazen 
 witness to deny a whole story ; but in this 
 case he does not adduce any one fact as 
 false. 
 
 The idea struck me at this moment that 
 I must have recently seen the name of Dr. 
 Harding somewhere ; and after a short search 
 my clerk brought me a week-old report of his 
 
6i 
 
 bankruptcy, which had been somewhat noto 
 rious. In his public examination it appeared 
 that he had been for some time insolvent, 
 and, knowing himself to be so, he had lightly 
 incurred heavy liabilities in regard to a cer 
 tain charitable undertaking (probably with no 
 worse intention than self advertisement). 
 
 By a comparison of dates, it proved, that 
 on the day on which after three minutes' 
 examination he had consigned my client to 
 a madhouse by his certificate, his signature 
 for twenty shillings would not have been 
 honoured by any bank or other business 
 concern in London, 
 
 As to the other signatory, Dr. Walford, 
 he was a gentleman whose name was quite 
 familiar to me, and I had occasionally seen 
 him in the Law Courts. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 When Doctors Disagree 
 
 "AND here, I take it, is the doctor come," I 
 might have quoted, as my clerk announced 
 another visitor. " Pray be seated : and ac 
 cept my thanks for coming." 
 
 Hardly had I uttered the words, when I 
 recognised in Dr. Friendly an old college 
 acquaintance. From the little I remembered 
 of him, I knew him to be an honest and able 
 man, whose excessive modesty alone had 
 kept him from advancement. I at once re 
 called myself to his recollection, and he spoke 
 without constraint. 
 
 " Well, Griffiths, this appears to be a most 
 extraordinary case, and as the man has by 
 some chance, or may be Providence, hit on 
 you from amongst thousands of London law 
 yers, you will feel it a duty to investigate the 
 case in a kindly manner, I am sure." 
 
63 
 
 " My own feelings entirely. We lawyers, 
 however, must not be talked over by the first 
 clever tongue ; that would be turning the 
 tables indeed." 
 
 " Still, the man's story must be true, or he 
 has an imagination which has mistaken its 
 vocation/' 
 
 " His story has in great part been nega 
 tively proved by a letter I have just received 
 from the asylum, which you shall see. But 
 you, yourself, tell me candidly, do you con 
 sider him perfectly normal ?" 
 
 At this he laughed. " Abnormal," he re- 
 replied, ''sounds a dreadful accusation, but 
 what does it mean ? Why it only means, as 
 Dr Johnson would have said, 'above or be 
 low mediocrity.' It is the favourite word of 
 mediocrities !" 
 
 "An expert," he went on to say, "is a 
 most unreliable authority in lunacy matters. 
 There is, at present, no system of instruction 
 in mental pathology, and its soi disant pro 
 fessors supply the want of exact knowledge 
 by a little bluster and most extravagant 
 assumptions. ' There is no system of instruc 
 tion in psychological medicine,' says one emi 
 nent physician, * because there is no definite 
 knowledge to be imparted/ ' 
 
 "In this indefinite state of the science, you 
 
6 4 
 
 may, by making names mean what you will, 
 suppress all individuality. If, in the last 
 resort, the sanity of your subject seems im 
 pregnable, you may then prove him mad 
 because he is sane. This is no exaggera 
 tion, for I myself once saw what was called 
 'want of the physiological unreason proper to 
 the age ' given as a proof of lunacy by a so- 
 called expert ! " 
 
 But I am being carried away from our 
 story. After some further conversation, my 
 friend, after a cordial invitation to his rooms, 
 left me ; and I then continued my investiga 
 tions in another direction. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Searching the Registers 
 
 BEFORE seeing Mr. Knollys I was anxious to 
 test certain statements as to his position, by 
 consulting the Registry of Wills at Somerset 
 House. 
 
 On my way I passed the scene of the 
 alleged drama, which was one of the many 
 streets leading off the Strand. I dismissed 
 my cab and sauntered down this street, which 
 is very secluded, but which was probably all 
 abuzz at the present moment in consequence 
 of my letter. In passing I recognised the 
 money-lender's house, and when I returned, 
 after walking a few steps further, I saw Dr. 
 Walford hurriedly leaving the office. This, 
 then, proved another fact in issue, the con 
 nection of the usurer with these proceedings 
 in lunacy. 
 
 Now for Somerset House. My client claims 
 
66 
 
 under the Will of his aunt, Miss Agnes Knollys, 
 to be entitled to a legacy of ^2000, of which 
 his mother is trustee. 
 
 At the Registry I asked for the book KN- 
 but it was already engaged. Shortly after 
 wards it was handed to me by the user 
 Dr. Walford ! I opened the book at hazard, 
 and at once found the Will of Miss Agnes 
 Knollys, of Winstead, Sussex. 
 
 "To my dear nephew, Cecil Knollys, I 
 bequeath the sum of 2000 to be held in 
 trust by Mr. N., Solicitor." Further on, 
 however, I found a provision which em 
 powered the executors to pay the fund over 
 to Mrs. Knollys (the mother), whose receipt 
 should be a full discharge. 
 
 On this point I consider the proof to be 
 ample. My next step, then, is to investi 
 gate Mr. Winch's professional reputation. 
 He is alleged to be a money-lender, and as 
 I am at Somerset House, I will look over the 
 Bills of Sale. On enquiry, however, I found 
 that these Registers were now kept at the 
 Law Courts to which I proceeded. My in 
 tention was to look over all the Bills of Sale 
 held by Winch, but I found that this obvious 
 mode of tracing dubious transactions was im 
 possible in the absence of an index of holders. 
 I was obliged, therefore, to be guided by my 
 
6 7 
 
 suspicions, and first enquired whether Dr. 
 Francis himself had given any such security, 
 but was unable to trace one. Then I remem 
 bered Thomas's bankruptcy, and looking 
 under his name, found, as I half expected, 
 that he had given a Bill of Sale to Mr. 
 Winch, and was in his power, therefore, when 
 in his office he signed a certificate of lunacy. 
 His certificate protects the proprietor; the 
 proprietor protects the relative : it is a mutual 
 indemnity association, and there is no risk. 
 
 F B 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 A Startling Incident 
 
 As I returned, my mind reverted to the almost 
 forgotten tale of Valentine Vox and to those 
 of Charles Reade, who used to boast that he 
 knew the lunacy trade " intus et in ciite" 
 My mind conjured up the memory of that 
 scene, read years ago, of a lunacy trial, " the 
 court full of the low faces of keepers, all ready 
 to swear him mad" and can it have been 
 overwrought fancy when I looked up I saw 
 two such faces watching the entrance to my 
 office from the other side of the road. 
 '; It was no fancy. In writing to the asylum, 
 I had naturally given my address, and they 
 were now watching my office to catch my 
 client. Suddenly I remembered that Cecil 
 Knollys had an appointment with me for that 
 very hour. What was to be done ? It was 
 futile to talk of giving the scoundrels in 
 
6 9 
 
 charge ; for they had the law on their side, 
 and had I my office filled with all the experts 
 in London, ready to swear to my client's 
 sanity, these keepers could still have carried 
 him off before our very eyes. 
 
 The thought of such an indignity put me 
 on my mettle : I walked quietly to the en 
 trance, but once out of sight I raced up the 
 stairs and shouted to my clerk to get his hat. 
 I told him to go to the one end of the street 
 and to wait for Mr. Knollys, to tell him of 
 his danger, and take him in a cab to London 
 Bridge Railway Station. I myself then rushed 
 downstairs, passed the two men, and, turning 
 the corner, took up my position at the other 
 end of the street 
 
 I was afraid to leave my post, and therefore 
 waited an hour before I went back to the 
 office. My clerk had not returned, and, on 
 going to his end of the street, I found him 
 gone. On driving to the station I found him 
 in a waiting room with my client, who was in 
 great excitement at his narrow escape. This 
 he now told me was not the first attempt that 
 had been made against him. 
 
 Only the day before he had been horrified 
 to see a keeper in the distance, who had just 
 caught sight of him. Instinctively looking 
 round for any means of defence or flight, he 
 
70 
 
 was fortunate enough to see a constable. The 
 keepers seeing their quarry at a standstill, 
 slackened their pace, but it was still a race of 
 seconds. A cab was standing at the curb, 
 and well Necessity is the mother of in 
 vention. 
 
 " Constable," he said steadily, " I have just 
 come from withdrawing some money from 
 the bank, and I notice that I have been fol 
 lowed ever since by two men." 
 
 " Oh, well ! you leave them to me, sir," 
 was the complacent reply. " You just jump 
 into a cab. Here coachman," he cried, "look 
 smart, the gentleman is in a hurry." 
 
 I was no sooner on the step but the keepers 
 rushed up, and tried to catch at the cab. The 
 constable, however, pulled them back, at the 
 same time calling put sharply, " All right, 
 cabman, you drive off." 
 
 The horse sprang off, jerking me back 
 wards, but as I fell in a heap in the cab I 
 just caught sight of my pursuers being arrested 
 as suspicious characters. Before the explan 
 ations could be made much to the chagrin 
 of my unconscious protector I was safe. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 An Invitation 
 
 ONE thing was clear : my client could not 
 afford to run such risks ; and it was evident 
 enough that the anxiety was already preying 
 on his mind. His fear was so overwhelming, 
 that he began to look with suspicion even on 
 me, and his eyes seemed to ask me if my 
 sympathy was growing cold or tired. 
 
 I, therefore, expressed myself in terms 
 which I have since seen reason to deem 
 precipitate, and asked him to go into the 
 country with me. 
 
 He first objected, honestly enough, on the 
 plea of expense, but at last consented. " It's 
 not the pleasant country which tempts me to 
 accept your offer," he said, " though that is 
 cheery and undiseased and a solace to eyes 
 still aching with prison walls, but it is a 
 refuge for the hunted man, where there will 
 be no new faces to scan and dread." 
 
72 
 
 Accordingly, we went down to the country 
 together, and there he told me an incident of 
 his past life " a sea voyage for health" which 
 may not have been without significance, both 
 as furnishing precedent and thus also, in part, 
 motive for the mother's conduct. To preserve 
 to my narrative a fitting length, which is a 
 " unity " too much neglected, I have omitted 
 this story here, reserving for after considera 
 tion the expediency of adding it at the end 
 of the book as a fitting " Appendix " to a 
 novel a short story. If space forbids this, 
 I need only say that, in the course of a dis 
 graceful scheme of neglect in his youth, the 
 mother had sent a compromising letter, which 
 had passed into the son's hands,, and had now 
 been seized by her. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 Mother and Son 
 
 THE certificates were not yet expired, when 
 I received a letter from my client's mother, 
 asking to be allowed to call on me. The 
 position of affairs was most unsatisfactory, 
 the excitement preying on my client's mind, so 
 that I was very anxious to bring about, if not 
 a reconciliation, at least some kind of modus 
 vivendi. At present, too, he was virtually 
 dependent on me, and I had many other 
 claims upon me. 
 
 I therefore wrote to the mother, thanking 
 her for her letter, and suggested that if she 
 would meet me at a place named, I might 
 be able, should she wish it, to bring about a 
 meeting with her son, with a view to com 
 promise. To this she replied, by wire, that 
 she would be at the place indicated in my 
 letter by five o'clock that same day. 
 
74 
 
 My client, when I called at his rooms, was 
 out, and I was surprised to hear from the 
 servant that probably he was walking in the 
 neighbouring cemetery. I soon, however, 
 guessed that he had considered this to be 
 an uncommonly good hiding-place, owing to 
 its being unpatrolled by the police. 
 
 The mother was not far off, so I decided to 
 fetch her, hoping that the solemnity of the 
 place of meeting might restrain unseemly pas 
 sions. It was not without reluctance that she 
 accompanied me, and when we found the son 
 standing by a tomb, she bitterly demanded 
 " what this posing meant." 
 
 The answer betrayed the weakness of my 
 client's character. Making all allowance for 
 his excitement, it was unseemly and melo 
 dramatic ; and to my mind evinced a certain 
 underlying insincerity. 
 
 " My poor father rests here," he said. " I 
 am taking refuge from a mother's cruelty at 
 a father's grave." 
 
 The mother recoiled, and I was much 
 shocked, and told him how wrong it was to 
 speak to his mother like that that he must 
 now try to bury the past. 
 
 " You've betrayed my confidence," he cried, 
 " in seeing my mother at all, and in bringing 
 her here. Don't prate to me about burying 
 
75 
 
 the past. I am a son of hate, and one past, 
 a horrible marriage lies buried here. But my 
 past it is myself: my life, my brain, that 
 you can't bury till you bury me." 
 
 I must say I lost patience : here am I doing 
 my utmost for him, and he turns and accuses 
 me of breach of confidence. I should have 
 thrown up the case in despair, had not the 
 mother acted most unexpectedly. 
 
 " You are wrong," she cried, " quite wrong, 
 Whatever I have done, I have done with the 
 best intentions. I am speaking for your own 
 sake what good can you do by fighting 
 against me ? Even if you could reduce my 
 income by throwing our affairs into Chancery, 
 you would be penniless. Will you tell all the 
 world that you have been in a madhouse ? 
 Who would credit your story ? Believe me, 
 you would harm yourself much more than 
 me. Be wise ; return to the University, and 
 say nothing to brand you with an ineradicable 
 stigma." 
 
 She argued, appealed, threatened. She 
 almost convinced me that she had not been 
 a free agent; and her cleverness and 'tact 
 made one pass over self-contradictions. 
 
 Nevertheless I did not lose sight of the 
 obviously venal motives for her change of 
 front. I inwardly summed up the matter in 
 
7 6 
 
 the cynical quotation " that seeing the exceed 
 ing difficulty of putting salt on the bird's tail, 
 she considered the advisability of throwing 
 dust in the bird's eyes." This notwithstand 
 ing, seeing no other course open, I urged him 
 to consent to an arrangement which would 
 secure him the means of continuing his studies, 
 myself undertaking to guard him from any 
 further proceedings in lunacy. 
 
 Such, as far as I am concerned, was the 
 end of this story of strange adventures, and 
 undisclosed intrigue. I have only to add a 
 few remarks on the immediate sequel. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 Failure ? 
 
 " Le secret d'ennuyer est de tout dire" 
 
 I AM sorry to say that Cecil Knollys turned 
 out a failure, a man utterly impractical. This 
 impracticability, joined to certain inuendoes 
 of the mother (whom I now saw occasionally), 
 led me to doubt his perfect sanity. At last I 
 was boldly told that certain papers existed 
 which were conclusive proof of his insanity. 
 I only hint at this mystery, and give the 
 answer of the son when I had a short oppor 
 tunity to ask him for an explanation. He 
 said that by interleaving a fragmentary diary, 
 scattered psychological notes, and a sensa 
 tional story, you might make a whole incom 
 prehensible enough. He defied me to give 
 any credit to papers disavowed, obtained by 
 stealth, and, for all he knew, supplemented 
 by forgery. 
 
When taxed with lack of resolution, he 
 said " My will to will may be passionately 
 strong, but my will itself be weak." 
 
 Such a quibbling reply was far from satis 
 factory to me, and as he seemed no longer 
 to be in danger, I tacitly closed the acquain 
 tance with an irritating sense of disappoint 
 ment. 
 
BOOK III 
 
 THE TRAGEDY OF A BRAIN 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 The Drama of Character 
 
 {l Comprendre c'est pardonner" 
 
 WHILE discussing the importance of happy 
 or unhappy " endings " of novels, we seem to 
 forget that interesting and significant lives of 
 men and women do not run on the lines of a 
 " plot," and that mechanical endings are Sacri 
 fices to a mere convention. Nature, indeed, 
 may have its melodramatic moments ; but 
 marriage despair, and other current catas 
 trophes, so far from being " endings," are 
 but prologues to a great and more human 
 play. 
 
 This is the drama of character, which is 
 enacted within, the sealed doors of the mind. 
 Real documents and reportable intrigue seem 
 here as banal as the realistic effects of the 
 " transpontine " stage. Some catastrophe has 
 
&2 
 
 occurred, the instinct of self-preservation has 
 been violently aroused, and the outer life then 
 becomes uneventful. But look within, and 
 we shall see this manly instinct becoming, in 
 silence and solitude, a mere brutish selfish 
 ness, or we find a heart broken by heartless- 
 ness deadening itself in recklessness and 
 gross appetite. Still at times we find a far 
 nobler drama. 
 
 Is there, then, no hope for any clear and 
 vivid sketch, some articulate cry, from these 
 unseen tragedies whose existence we feel at 
 times when we look into each other's eyes ? 
 Will no " misunderstood " man deign thus to 
 defend himself? 
 
 Such a defence let me attempt. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Some months after the foregoing events, 
 I, Cecil's friend, met Mr. Griffiths, the lawyer, 
 in the Strand. 
 
 He then told me that Cecil was " a failure," 
 and that he should probabiy see no more of 
 him. He declared that he was lethargic, un 
 ambitious, and of a very unamiable temper ; 
 that, though he worked "by fits and starts" 
 in a most unpractical way, he accomplished 
 nothing. He said that he wished to make 
 every allowance (but made none) that it was 
 very sad to see a young man 
 
83 
 
 Here I interrupted him impatiently, for I, 
 on the other hand, thought that it was Griffiths 
 who had failed failed to see that Cecil was 
 coming through a long convalescence of ter 
 ror and suspicion and that he was now (to 
 use Coleridge's simile) "telling a man para 
 lysed in both arms to cure himself by rubbing 
 them briskly together." The lawyer having 
 thus left the tale a fragment, I, the friend 
 who best understood him, may fitly finish it, 
 not impartially, perhaps, but with something 
 of hope and kindliness. 
 
 Having written to ask Cecil to come and 
 see me, I received a short note to say that 
 he could not come, as he was sailing from 
 Liverpool the next day. I went at once to 
 his rooms, where I found him in all the dis 
 order of packing ; and then I, his alter ego, 
 with difficulty drew from him the statement 
 which will follow. 
 
 This at last he allowed me to repeat. He 
 adjured me, if his story must be told, to 
 banish from it the lawyer's self-restraint, 
 and not to tell it as the lawyer knew it. 
 " Tell my story," he cried, "as I know it; 
 let my despair speak close to some reader's 
 heart." 
 
 And then he revealed to me a state of 
 rnind which I shall never forget ; for, when 
 
 G '2 
 
8 4 
 
 he spoke of arrested growth and the racked 
 soul, it seemed to me that weakness itself 
 was pleading at the bar of humanity, from 
 out the Inferno which may dwell in a man's 
 own brain. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 The House of Art 
 
 " Show me the man's Library, and I will tell you what he is." 
 
 Unverified Quotation. 
 
 WHEN I arrived, I was shewn into his room, 
 and was told he would return in a few 
 minutes. His room, as I said, was in all the 
 disorder of packing, but, whilst his other 
 belongings were lying in utter confusion, his 
 books remained in order in their places. And 
 so, before I received the confidence that he 
 was about to give me, I had an involuntary 
 revelation of the man's character as stamped 
 on his surroundings chez soi. I will not refer 
 to the indications of recklessness and want of 
 method, which were no more than I expected ; 
 but it was turning to his books that I came 
 to the man in a new light. His single room 
 at a few shillings a week then seemed to dis 
 appear, and what a strange edifice of thought 
 
86 
 
 and feeling did I then divine in looking at 
 those orderly book shelves. 
 
 The stabile foundations of Kant's " abso 
 lute " philosophy, a chapel vibrating with the 
 grand organ note of Milton, and (instead 
 of the sordid tenement) here rises a glorious 
 studio holding the elegance of Pater, the 
 colour of Flaubert, the jewelled wordery of 
 Gautier, and the music of Mallarme. From 
 a corner peer out the Wiertz-Hke images of 
 Poe and Hawthorne. Lighter reading too, 
 of long ago, whispered of love from the libri 
 amoris of Bullen and Garnett, but these, with 
 the pleasant foliage of Peacock, were now 
 covered with dust. From the books instead 
 seemed to step out, to people the room and 
 sympathise together, the victims of evil 
 parentage Richard Savage, Beatrice Cenci, 
 and (on the other hand) the no less real 
 figure of Daddy Goriot. 
 
 Not to weary the reader, I have not con 
 tinued the metaphor ; but works yet more 
 serious and dread were there works on 
 brain disease, in which he would look, fearing 
 that they should turn, as it were, to mirrors. 
 But, in short, he had sought to rebut the 
 charge of mental balance by profound studies^ 
 which, whilst they left him few mysteries to 
 shelter latent " mysticism/' may, perchance. 
 
have left him sadly disillusioned. I turned 
 from the books, sadly, thinking that though 
 they constituted against baseness and delu 
 sion an all but impregnable fortress, and a 
 considerable barrier against error, that never 
 theless no fortress could keep out mental 
 pest or famine of the heart. In the face, how 
 ever, of such evidence, what but stupidity 
 could believe him a vaurien, or a do-nothing? 
 
 And now Cecil returned, alert, and labour 
 ing under the excitement of some momentous 
 resolution. I asked him what his plans were, 
 and urged him to do nothing rash. He turned 
 on me then, "When I do nothing," he cried, 
 " I am accused of * doubting madness/ When 
 I seek help or advice/ I am told that I must 
 live my own life. When I act for myself, I 
 am told-' to do nothing rash.' Because I am 
 a wronged man, everyone presumes to dictate 
 to me and judge me. You are my best, my 
 true friend : forgive my temper, I have just 
 been to say good-bye to the lawyer, and even 
 he has thrown * failure' in my teeth." 
 
 I tried to argue with him, but every word 
 showed me how futile it was for me to talk 
 down such a case as his. What he told me, 
 I repeat in his own words : what I said was 
 pathetically futile, and I have suppressed it. 
 I have not sought to turn his passion into a 
 
88 
 
 connected narrative. I believe it will appeal 
 best as it is to those who are capable of under 
 standing it. The imagination of such a reader 
 will, I think, be able to supply a connection 
 to the passages. The statement is purposely 
 much curtailed for the duration of excite 
 ment is limited by a psychic law. To break 
 up so brief a statement into chapters is not 
 usual, but such divisions represent actual 
 breaks in the thought or emotional pauses. 
 The poetical headings, too, may serve as 
 signal-lights to warn away unsympathetic 
 readers. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Bricks Without Straw 
 
 " WHO accuses me, and of what ? " 
 
 Those who arrest my body no ! arrest my 
 growth, fill my consciousness with horror, and 
 steal my very soul. Do they then judge me ? 
 Blame the racked body for its twisted limbs, 
 the tortured soul for its deformity. Then 
 exhort me to make bricks without straw, 
 resolutions without brain tissue. Demand 
 responsibility from a vegetable life, courage 
 from a broken spirit, affection from nature 
 disnatured by unnatural wrong. Seek smiles 
 from what may be the death-bed of sanity, 
 and, when you have got them, call them in 
 sincere. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Long Ago 
 
 ** My body independent as my soul." 
 
 Savage. 
 
 I TO disappoint hopes ! I, whose hopes were 
 murdered ? Only a year ago I was a mere 
 boy, no less solitary, may be, than now, but 
 then beauty, not horror, was within. All 
 alone, I wandered into the world of mind, of 
 books. Launched upon life without an oar, it 
 was as if some benignant current had taken 
 me to the islands of the blessed. Scarcely 
 had I read one book (it was Marius the Epi 
 curean], but it gave me my bearings ; I turned 
 on a full tide of feeling, and ran before the 
 wind of thought, from what I was to what I 
 might be. The great writers marked my 
 course, like stars, to which I turned in solemn 
 reverence. My ambition was pure ; I loved. 
 My consciousness was full of beauty and the 
 
91 
 
 dreams of night were rilled with faces which 
 expressed not individuals but passions of love, 
 to me, true angels of Heaven. 
 
 The while I was living with the poet 
 A. de Musset, the analyst Beyle, the philoso 
 pher Kant, preserving a " literary conscience," 
 looking forward to many years of initiate 
 virgin of petty success, I was looked on as 
 idle, ignorant, and worthless. Still it was 
 nothing to me. I lived with " the real 
 people of the human comedy " not with 
 the shadows around me, who hurried to 
 and fro for the sake of boasting that they 
 did so. I had to contend with baseness, 
 but I took it into my world of thought, and 
 it became, "point de serpent ni de monstre 
 odi< ux qui par Part imite pent plaire aux 
 yeitx" 
 
 My surroundings were base, my life lonely 
 and yearning, but sleep filled with the pure 
 and tender aspirations of the day sleep was 
 a self-made home, and filled with gentle c0m- 
 fort. 
 
 Far away now is that quest of the Holy 
 Grail of a better self. " My sun is gone 
 down in the day time"; and, if the brain 
 indeed be heaven or hell, my heaven is 
 taken, and the brain filled with fire. 
 
 For now the faces I see, when I cower 
 
92 
 
 hiding, panting in a dream of capture, are 
 the faces of mothers who lie in wait and 
 mutter, "There he is!" Her voice, her 
 face, horribly transfigured, linger on my sen 
 ses when I awake. Only dreams ! dreams 
 of a few seconds, but in one night of "cir 
 cling " minutes a planetary of fear. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 The Tragic Stage 
 
 " Eyes, filled with perishing dreams, and with wrecks of 
 forgotten delirium." 
 
 Our Lady of Sighs. 
 
 THE tragic stage of memory has other acts 
 scenes of love, destitute sickness, and domes 
 tic hate. 
 
 The chapter of love : that is a short story, but 
 a tragedy in little. The sordid room (on the 
 ground floor so near the heedless passers by), 
 the woman, pallid with "the white heat of pas 
 sion," anaemic, fanciful, and weak, living in a 
 literature of noble imagination, intoxicated 
 with self-sacrifice, acts acts the part of base 
 ness to the man she would save, because, 
 woman-like, with attence au cceur au cerveau, 
 she trembled with a premonition of approach 
 ing sorrow. 
 
 Can I forget how sick and destitute I lay 
 in fever in a noisome shelter, and lest I should 
 
94 
 
 betray myself in delirious sleep, dragged my 
 way out along the streets and bridges. To 
 sleep ! to be harried by dreams of capture 
 and flight through all the terrible houses and 
 highways of sleep. Half awake, to be dimly 
 conscious of fighting among these terrors to 
 hold back madness until dawn. 
 
 And then the home. Habit soon tells 
 when the process of digestion makes the 
 most irritation possible, the precise time to 
 offer food when the body is too faint to re 
 ceive it, and a concession when the heart is 
 too indignant to accept. Until at last one 
 goes out with a tetanus in every nerve, and 
 would rather pluck bread from the fingers of 
 the plague than return. Such are the fights 
 of which only the exhaustion is seen. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Moral Tactics 
 
 WHEN a military leader has but few troops, 
 and they disorganised, undrilled, and dis 
 couraged by the authorities at home, yet 
 fights on and dies fighting, has he failed ? 
 Take a town besieged : the protectors worn 
 out by being ever on guard, the town naturally 
 weak and unfortified. A strong force besieges, 
 and yet the commander not only refuses to 
 surrender, but even rallying by glorious sallies 
 throws back the besiegers from the town. He 
 knows that in time the town must be taken : 
 it can only be a matter of days ; and yet in 
 the name of honour alone he holds out to the 
 death. 
 
 And so do I, with few inherited virtues, 
 n> instruction in principles, energies disor 
 ganised by watchfulness, terror and failure. 
 Shall I then, having received the royal com- 
 
9 6 
 
 mission of life, but being unequipped for the 
 struggle, return the commission life to the 
 Giver rather than do ill ? No ; that is a felony 
 upon myself. 
 
 I speak to softer sternness not for myself ; 
 for my old self is dying to-morrow. But I feel 
 that a more skilful umpire than the world will 
 see the heroism of weakness, the glory of re 
 luctant ignominy, and the paramount claim of 
 the weak, the forsaken, and the loveless. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 New Life 
 
 " Magic casements, opening on the foam of perilous seas* 
 In faery lands forlorn." 
 
 Keats. 
 
 I AM going to begin a new life. I was never 
 told what a principle meant, and tried good 
 and evil first one and then the other as a 
 stranger to them must do. No course had 
 been marked out to me, my eye had been 
 directed to no centre, and yet I was blamed 
 for eccentricity. I must begin as if I were a 
 child. I shall put myself to a good school 
 the army. Then, with acquired habits of 
 duty and discipline, with the character earned 
 in the army, otherwise without a past or name, 
 I shall set out to make, not my fortune, but 
 my life, make my home, find love and kindred 
 in a novel sense a self-made man. 
 
CONCLUSION 
 
 " I wonder whether he did repent. . . . The probabi 
 lity is, he fancied that his son had injured him very much and 
 forgave him on his death-bed " 
 
 Round About Papers (De Finibus], 
 
 CONCLUSION nay, art never concludes, and 
 poetic justice is within. 
 
 When the furies, growing bold, crept from 
 her brain and overspread her face, when her 
 voice made men ponder the mystery of evil, 
 when no longer could she "smile and smile 
 and be a villain " did the mother go mad ? 
 She is his mother ; eternity only serves to 
 bring them together, for ever and ever mother 
 and son. Bound by no Church or Law, but 
 bound by flesh and blood and spirit ; between 
 them is no divorce. 
 
 Will he then come back, and, in the calm 
 ness of strength, having received success as 
 a pledge of hope, seek with strong nerve and 
 
99 
 
 faith and fundamental love to win her, his 
 happy ending to conquer his own manhood 
 and reedeem his mother's soul ? 
 
 Will the injurers ever forgive ? 
 
 THE END. 
 
Printed by R. ffolkard 6r> Son, 
 22, Dwonshire Street, Bloomsbury, London, W.C. 
 
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 " Dr. Abbott pleases by the interest he takes in the subject which he treats . . 
 and he adorns his matter with a good English style . . . Altogether, with its 
 dainty printing, it would be a charming book to read in the open air on a bright 
 summer's day. Atberuzum. 
 
 " He has an observant eye, a warm sympathy, and a pen that enables us to see 
 with him. Nothing could be more restful than to read the thoughts of such nature- 
 lovers. The very titles of his chapters suggest quiet and gentle things." Dublin Herald. 
 
 ** A delightful volume this of Nature Sketches. Dr. Abbott writes about New 
 England woods and streams, scenes neither quite familiar nor quite strange to us who 
 know the same things in the old country. The severer winter makes some difference, 
 as, for instance, in the number of birds that migrate there, but are stationary here; 
 and there *are, of course, other differences in both fauna and flora; nevertheless, we 
 feel, in a way, at home, when Dr. Abbott takes us on one of his delightful winter or 
 summer excursions. This is a book which we cannot recommend too highly." 
 Sfectator. 
 
 THE BIRDS ABOUT Us. 73 Engravings. Second Edition. 
 
 Thick cr. 8vo. 5*. 6d. net. 
 Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Company. 
 
 BASEMAN (MAT). 
 
 SONNETS AND SONGS. With a title design by JOHN D. 
 MACKENZIE. Fcap. 8vo. -$s. 6d. net. 
 
 BINYON (LAURENCE). 
 
 LYRIC POEMS, with title page by SELWYN IMAGE. Sq. 
 i6mo. 5-r. net, 
 
 " This little volume of LYRIC POEMS displays a grace of fancy, a spontaneity 
 and individuality of inspiration, and a felicitous command of metre and diction, which 
 lift the writer above the average of the minor singers of our time. . . . We may 
 expect much from the writer of 'An April Day,' or of the strong concluding lines on 
 the present age from a piece entitled ' Present and Future.' " Times. 
 
 " The product of a definite and sympathetic personality." Globe. 
 
 "The impression that this volume makes upon us is that the writer has caught 
 the spirit of Matthew Arnold, and that in no common degree. , . . Quite 
 Titianesque in its force and colour." Sfectator. 
 
 FIRST BOOK OF LONDON VISIONS. Fcap. 8vo. Wrapper. 
 is. net. [In the press. 
 
 BLACKMORE (R. D.} 
 
 FRINGILLA : OR, SOME TALES IN VERSE. By the Author 
 of "Lorna Doone." With Eleven full-page Illustrations 
 and numerous vignettes and initials by Louis FAIRFAX- 
 MUCKLEY and Three by JAMES W. R. LINTON. 
 Crown 8vo. los. net. 
 
The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 BLACKMORE (R. D.) continued. 
 
 "'Fringilla' must be looked upon as Mr. Blackmore's diversions, and as such 
 it is very delightful. A whimsical originality, an imaginative wealth of detail, a 
 pleasant sense of humour are among Mr. Blackmore's qualities as a poet." Speaker. 
 
 " Mr. Blackmore's verse is cultured and careful ; it is full of knowledge ; it has 
 every quality which commands our respect ; it has an old-world charm of gentleness 
 and peace." MR. W. L. COURTNEY, in the Daily Telegraph. 
 
 "The charming and accomplished drawings of Mr. Fairfax-Muckley, so finely 
 designed, so admirably decorative." Academy. 
 
 BOWCHER (HAVERING}. 
 
 THE C MAJOR OF LIFE : A Novel. Cr. 8vo. 3*. 6d. net. 
 
 [Isham Facsimile Reprint.] 
 BRETON (NICHOLAS). 
 
 No WHIPPINGE, NOR TRIPPINGE, BUT A KINDE 
 FRIENDLY SNIPPINGE London, i6oi. A Facsimile 
 Reprint, with the original Borders to every page, with 
 a Bibliographical Note by CHARLES EDMONDS. 200 
 copies, printed on hand-made paper at the CHISWICK 
 PRESS. I2mo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 Also 50 copies Large Paper. $s. net. 
 
 Facsimile reprint from the semi-unique copy discovered in the autumn of 1867 by 
 Mr. Charles Edmonds in a disused lumber room at Lamport Hall, Northants (Sir 
 Charles E. Isham's), and purchased lately by the British Museum authorities. When 
 Dr. A. B. Grosart collected Breton's Works a few years ago for his " Chertsey 
 Worthies Library," he was forced to confess that certain of Breton's most coveted 
 books were missing and absolutely unavailable. The semi-unique example under 
 notice was one of these. 
 
 BRIDGES (ROBERT). 
 
 A NEW VOLUME OF POEMS. [In preparation. 
 
 BYRON (MAY]. 
 
 A LITTLE BOOK OF LYRICS. \_Inpreparation. 
 
 CARMAN (BLISS) fif RICHARD HOVEY. 
 
 SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA. With Decorations by TOM 
 
 B. METEYARD. Fcap. 8vo. $s. net. 
 Boston : Copeland 6 Day. 
 
 44 The Authors of the small joint volume called ' Songs from Vagabondia,' have 
 an unmistakable right to the name of poet. These little snatches have the spirit of a 
 gipsy Omar Khayyam. They have always careless verve, and often careless felicity ; 
 they are masculine and rough, as roving songs should be. . . Here, certainly, 
 is the poet's soul. . . . You have the whole spirit of the book in such an unfor- 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 
 
 CARMAN (BLISS) &> RICHARD H07EY continued. 
 
 getable little lyric as ' In the House of Idiedaily.' . . We refer the reader to the 
 delightful little volume itself, which comes as a welcome interlude amidst the highly 
 wrought introspective poetry of the day." FRANCIS THOMPSON, in Merry England. 
 
 " Bliss Carman is the author of a delightful volume of verse, * Low Tide on 
 Grand Pre," and Richard Hovey is the fo'emost of the living poets oi America, with 
 the exception, perhaps, of Bret Harte and Joaquim Miller, whose names are more 
 familiar. He sounds a dteper note than either of these, and deals with loftier 
 themes. 1 ' Dublin Express. 
 
 " Both possess the power of investing actualities with fancy, and leaving them 
 none the less actual ; of setting the march music of the vagabond's feet to words; of 
 being comrades with nature, yet without presumption . And they have that charm, 
 rare in writers of verse, of drawing the reader into the fellowship of their own zest 
 and contentment." Athenezum. 
 
 CHAPMAN (ELIZABETH RACHEL}. 
 
 A LITTLE CHILD'S WREATH : A Sonnet Sequence. With 
 title page and cover designed by SELWYN IMAGE. 
 Second Edition. Sq. i6mo.. green buckram. $s.6d. net. 
 
 New York : Dodd, Mead 6 Company. 
 
 " Contains many tender and pathetic passages, and some really exquisite and 
 subtle touches of childhood nature. . . . The average excellence of the sonnets 
 is undoubted." Spectator. 
 
 " In these forty pages of poetry ... we have a contribution inspired by 
 grief for the loss of a child of seven, which is not unworthy to take its place even 
 beside * In Memoriam.' . . . Miss Chapman has ventured upon sacred ground, 
 but she has come off safely, with the inspiration of a divine sympathy in htr soul, and 
 with lips touched with the live coal from the altar on which glows the flame of 
 immortal love " W. T. STEAD, in The Review of Reviews. 
 
 " Pull of a very solemn and beautiful but never exaggerated sentiment." 
 LOGROLLER, in Star. 
 
 " While they are brimming with tenderness and tears, they are marked with the 
 skilled workmanship of the real poet." Glasgow Herala. 
 
 " Evidently describes very real and intense sorrow. Its strains of tender sym 
 pathy will appeal specially to those whose hearts have been wrung by the loss of a 
 young child, and the verses are touching in their simplicity " Morning Post. 
 
 " Re-assurts us on its first page by its sanity and its simple tenderness." Bookman. 
 
 COLERIDGE (HON. STEPHEN}. 
 
 THE SANCTITY OF CONFESSION : A Romance. 2nd edi 
 tion. Printed by CLOWES & SON. 250 copies. Cr. 8vo. 
 3 s. net [ Very few remain. 
 
 " Mr. Stephen Coleridge's sixteenth-century romance is well and pleasantly 
 written. The style is tnroughout in keeping with the story ; and we should imagine 
 that the historical probabilities are well observed." Pall Mall Gaxette. 
 
 Mr. GLADSTONE writes : "I have read the singularly well told story. . . . 
 It opens up questions both deep and dark ; it cannot be right to accept in religion 
 or anything else a secret which destroys the life of an innocent fellow creature." 
 
The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 CORBIN (JOHN). 
 
 THE ELIZABETHAN HAMLET: A Study of the Sources, 
 and of Shakspere's Environment, to show that the Mad 
 Scenes had a Comic Aspect now Ignored. With a 
 Prefatory Note by F. YORK POWELL, Professor of 
 Modern History at the University of Oxford. Small 
 4to. 35 6d. net. 
 
 New York : Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 
 . . . " When we add that so competent a judge as Professor York Powell 
 expresses his belief in a Prefatory Note that Mr. Corbin has ' got hold of a truth that 
 has not been clearly, if at all, expressed in our Elizabethan studies to wit, that the ' 
 i6th century audience's point of view, and, of necessity, the playwright's treatment 
 of his subject, were very different from ours of to-day in many matters of mark' and 
 express our own concurrence in this, we have said enough to recommend Mr. Corbin's 
 little book to the attention of all Shakespearian students." Times. 
 
 CROSSING (WILLIAM}. 
 
 THE ANCIENT CROSSES OF DARTMOOR ; with a Descrip 
 tion of their Surroundings. With 1 1 plates. 8vo. cloth. 
 4^. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. 
 
 DA7IES (R. R.). 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF THE OLD CHURCH AT CHELSEA AND 
 OF ITS MONUMENTS. [/ preparation. 
 
 DE GRUCHY (AUGUSTA). 
 
 UNDER THE HAWTHORN, AND OTHER VERSES. With 
 Frontispiece by WALTER CRANE. Printed at the 
 RUGBY PRESS. 300 copies. Cr. 8vo. 5*. net. 
 Also 30 copies on Japanese vellum. 15*. net. 
 " Melodious in metre, graceful in fancy, and not without spontaneity of inspira 
 tion." Times. 
 
 " Very tender and melodious is much of Mrs. De Gruchy's verse. Rare imaginative 
 power marks the dramatic monologue k In the Prison Van."' Speaker. 
 
 " Distinguished by the attractive qualities of grace and refinement, and a purity 
 of style that is as refreshing as a limpid stream in the heat of a summer's noon. . . . 
 The charm of these poems lies in their naturalness, which is indeed an admirable 
 quality in song. 1 ' Saturday Review. 
 
 DI7ERSI COLORES SERIES. 
 See HORNE. 
 
 DOJVSON (ERNEST). 
 
 DILEMMAS : Stories and Studies in Sentiment. (A Case of 
 Conscience. The Diary of a Successful Man. An 
 Orchestral Violin. The Statute of Limitations. 
 Souvenirs of an Egoist). Crown 8vo. $s. 6d. net. 
 
 New York : Frederick A. Stokes Company. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 
 
 DOWSON (ERNEST) continued. 
 
 " Unquestionably they are good stories, with a real human interest in| them." 
 St. James's Gaxette. 
 
 " ' A Case of Conscience * ... an exceedingly good story. At first sight 
 it might appear unfinished, as one of the problems presented is left unsolved ; but one 
 soon feels that anything more would have spoilt the art with which the double tragedy 
 of the two men's lives is flashed before the reader in a few pages." Athenaum. 
 
 "These stories can be read with pure enjoyment, for along with subtlety of 
 thought and grace of diction there is true refinement." Liverpool Mercury. 
 
 POEMS (Diver si Colores Series). With a title design by 
 
 H. P. HORNE. Printed at the CHISWICK PRESS, on 
 
 hand-made paper. i6mo. $s. net. [Shortly. 
 
 " Mr Dowson's contributions to the two series of the Rhymer's Book were 
 
 subtle and exquisite poems. He has a touch of Elizabethan distinction. . . . 
 
 Mr. Dowson's stories are very remarkable in quality." Boston Literary World, 
 
 FIELD (MICHAEL). 
 
 SIGHT AND SONG (Poems on Pictures). Printed by 
 CONSTABLES. 400 copies. I2mo. $s. net. 
 
 [ Very few remain. 
 
 STEPHANIA : A TRIALOGUE IN THREE ACTS. Frontis 
 piece, colophon, and ornament for binding designed 
 by SELWYN IMAGE. Printed by FOLKARD & SON. 
 250 copies (200 for sale). Pott 4to. 6s. net. 
 
 [ Very few remain. 
 "We have true drama in 'Stephania.' .... Stephania, Otho, and 
 
 Sylvester II., the three persons of the play, are more than mere names 
 
 Besides great effort, commendable effort, there is real greatness in th s play j and the 
 blank verse is often sinewy and strong with thought and passion." Speaker. 
 
 "'Stephania' is striking in design and powerful in execution. It is a highly 
 dramatic ' trialogue ' between the Emperor Otho III., his tutor Gerbert and Stephania, 
 the widow of the murdered Roman Consul, Crescentius. The poem contains much 
 fine work, and is picturesque and of poetical accent. . . ." Westminster Review. 
 
 A QUESTION OF MEMORY : A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 
 100 copies only. 8vo. $s. net. [ Very few remain. 
 
 ATTILA, MY ATTILA ! A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS. 
 
 With a Facsimile of Two Medals. (Uniform with 
 
 Stephania). Pott 4to. 5-y. net. 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 It deals with the strange and desperate adventures of Honoria, daughter of the 
 amous Empress Galla Placidia. This young princess may reasonably be regarded as 
 the New Woman of the fifth century, and It is from this point of view that Michael 
 Field has presented her audacities and their punishment. The title page reproduces 
 a medal which, in Gibbon's words, "exhibits the pleasing countenance of Honoria," 
 together with one that represents her mother. 
 
8 The Publications of El kin Mathews 
 
 GALTON (ARTHUR}. 
 
 ESSAYS UPON MATTHEW ARNOLD (Diversi Colores Series), 
 Printed at the CHISWICK PRESS on hand-made paper. 
 Cr. 8vo. 5-y. net. \_In preparation. 
 
 GASKIN (ARTHUR). 
 
 GOOD KING WENCESLAS. A Carol written by Dr. NEALE 
 and Pictured by ARTHUR J. GASKIN ; with an Intro 
 duction by WILLIAM MORRIS. 4to. 3*. 6d. net. 
 
 Transferred to the present Publisher. 
 
 u Mr. Arthur J. Gaskin has more than redeemed the promise of his illustrations' 
 to Hans Christian Andersen's tales by his edition of the late Dr. Neale's carol of 
 * Good King Wenceslas.' . . . The pictures, pictorial borders, and initial letters 
 are remarkable both for the vigour of the drawing and the sense of the decorative 
 style which they exhibit. Mr. William Morris has shown his interest in the artist's 
 works by contributing a prefatory note." Daily News. 
 
 GASKIN (MRS. ARTHUR). 
 
 AN A. B.C. BOOK. Rhymed and Pictured by MRS. 
 ARTHUR GASKIN. 60 designs. Fcap. 8vo. 35 6d. net. 
 Chicago : A. C. McClurg 6* Co. 
 
 HAKE (DR. T. GORDON, "The Parable Poet.") 
 
 MADELINE, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 8vo. $s. net. 
 Transferred to the present Publisher. 
 
 " The ministry of the angel Daphne to her erring human sister is frequently 
 related in strains of pure and elevated tenderness. Nor does the poet who can show 
 so much delicacy fail in strength. The description of Madeline as she passes in 
 trance to her vengeance is full of vivid pictures and charged with tragic feeling. 
 The individuality of the writer lies in his deep sympathy with whatever affects the 
 being and condition of man. . . . Taken as a whole, the book has high and 
 unusual claims." Atheneeum. 
 
 "I have been reading 'Madeline' again. For sheer originality, both o. conception 
 and of treatment, I consider that it stands alone." MR. THEODORE WATTS. 
 
 PARABLES AND TALES. (Mother and Child. The Crip 
 ple. The Blind Boy. Old Morality. Old Souls. 
 The Lily of the Valley. The Deadly Nightshade. 
 The Poet). With a Biographical Sketch by THEODORE 
 WATTS. 9 illustrations by ARTHUR HUGHES. New 
 Edition. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 "The qualities of Dr. Gordon Hake's work were from the first fully admitted 
 and warmly praised by one of the greatest of contemporary poet?, who was also a 
 critic of exceptional acuteness Rossetti. Indeed, the only two review articles which 
 Rossetti ever wrote were written on two of Dr. Hake's books : * Madeline,' which he 
 reviewed in the Academy in 1871, and l Parables and Tales,' which he reviewed in 
 the Fortnightly in 1873. Many eminent critics have expressed a decided preference 
 or * Parables and Tales ' to Dr. Hake's other works, and it had the advantage of being 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 
 
 HAKE (DR. r. GORDON} continued. 
 
 enriched with the admirable illustrations of Arthur Hughes." Saturday Review, 
 January, 1895. 
 
 " The piece called ' Old Souls ' is probably secure of a distinct place in the liter 
 ature of our day, and we believe the same may be predicted of other poems in the 
 little collection just issued. . . . Should Dr. Hake's more restricted, but lovely 
 and sincere contributions to the poetry of real life not find the immediate response 
 they deserve, he may at least remember that others also have failed to meet at once 
 with full justice and recognition. But we will hope for good encouragement to his 
 present and future work ; and can at least ensure the lover of poetry "that in these 
 simple pages he shall find not seldom a humanity limpid and pellucid the well-spring 
 of a true heart, with which his tears must mingle as with their own element. 
 
 " Dr. Hake has been fortunate in . the beautiful drawings which Mr. Arthur 
 Hughes has contributed to his little volume. No poet could have a more congenial 
 yoke-fellow than this gifted and imaginative artist." D. G. ROSSETTI, in the 
 Fortnightly. l8yj. 
 
 HEMINGWAY (PERCY). 
 
 OUT OF EGYPT : Stories from the Threshold of the East. 
 Cover design by GLEESON WHITE. Crown 8vo. 
 3_y. 6d. net. 
 
 " This is a strong book/' Academy. 
 
 " This is a remarkable book. Egyptian life has seldom been portrayed from the 
 inside. . . . The author's knowledge of Arabic, his sympathy with the religion 
 of Islam, above all his entire freedom from Western prejudice, have enabled him to 
 learn more of what modern Egypt really is than the average Englishman could 
 possibly acquire in a lifetime at Cairo or Port Said." African Review. 
 
 "A lively and picturesque style. . . undoubted talent." Manchester Guardian. 
 
 " But seldom that the first production o, an author is so mature and so finished in 
 style as this. . . . The sketches are veritable spoils of the Egyptians gems of 
 sproe in a setting of clear air, sharp outlines, and wondrous skies. Morning Leader. 
 
 " This book places its author amongst those writers from whom lasting work of 
 high aim is to be expected.'' The Star. 
 
 "The tale ... is treated with daring directness. . . An impressive and 
 pathetic close to a story told throughout with arresting strength and simplicity." 
 Daily News. 
 
 "Genuine power and pathos." Pall Mall Gaxette. 
 
 THE HAPPY WANDERER (Poems). With title design by 
 Charles I. ffculkes. Printed at the CHISWICK PRESS, on 
 hand-made paper. Sq. i6mo. $s. net. [/ the press. 
 
 HICKEY (EMILY H.\ 
 
 A VOLUME OF POEMS. With a Frontispiece by MARY 
 
 E. SWAN. [In preparation. 
 
 VERSE TALES, LYRICS AND TRANSLATIONS. Printed at 
 
 the ARNOLD PRESS. 300 copies. Imp. i6mo. $s. net. 
 
 [ Very few remain. 
 
 1 Miss Hickey's * Verse Tales, Lyrics, and Translations ' almost invariably 
 reach a high level of finish and completeness. The book is a string of little rounded 
 pearls. Atbenaum. 
 
io The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 HINKSON (HENRY A.\ 
 
 DUBLIN VERSES. By MEMBERS OF TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 Selected and Edited by H. A. HINKSON, late Scholar 
 of Trinity College, Dublin. Pott 4to. 5*. net. 
 Dublin: Hodges, Figgis 6 Co., Limited. 
 Includes contributions by the following : Aubrey de Vere, 
 Sir Stephen de Vere, Oscar Wilde, J. K. Ingram, A. P. Graves, 
 J. Todhunter, W. E. H. Lecky, T. W. Rolleston, Edward 
 Dowden, G. A. Greene, Savage-Armstrong, Douglas Hyde, 
 R. Y. Tyrrell, G. N. Plunkett, W. Macneile Dixon, William 
 Wilkins, George Wilkins, and Edwin Hamilton. 
 
 <r A pleasant volume of contemporary Irish Verse. . . A judicious selection." 
 limes. 
 
 " Wherever there is a group of Irish readers in near or far-off lands, these 
 * Dublin Verses ' will be sure to command attention and applause." Glasgow Herald. 
 
 HINKSON (KATHARINE). 
 
 SLOES ON THE BLACKTHORN : A VOLUME OF IRISH 
 STORIES. Crown 8vo., 3*. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 "HOBBY HORSE (THE)." 
 
 AN ILLUSTRATED ART MISCELLANY. Edited by HERBERT 
 P. HORNE. The Fourth Number of the New Series 
 will shortly appear, after which MR. MATHEWS will 
 publish all the numbers in a volume, price i. is. net. 
 
 Boston : Copeland &> Day. 
 
 HORNE (HERBERT P.) 
 
 DIVERSI COLORES : Poems. Vignette, &c., designed by 
 the Author. Printed at the CHISWICK PRESS. 250 
 copies. i6mo. 5^. net. 
 
 Transferred by the Author to the present Publisher. 
 " In these few poems Mr. Home has set before a tasteless age, and an extravagant 
 age, examples of poetry which, without fear or hesitation, we consider to be of true 
 and pure beauty." Anti-Jacobin. 
 
 " With all his fondness for sixteenth century styles and themes, Mr. Home is yet 
 sufficiently individual in his thought and manner. Much of his sentiment is quite 
 latter-day in tone and rendering ; he is a child of his time." Globe. 
 
 " Mr. Home's work is almost always carefully felicitous and may be compared 
 with beautiful filagree work in verse. He is fully, perhaps too fully, conscious of the 
 value of restraint, and is certainly in need of no more culture in the handling of verse 
 of such verse as alone he cares to work in. He has already the merits of a finished 
 artist or, at all events, of an artist who is capable of the utmost finish." Pall 
 Mall Gaxette. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. n 
 
 HORNE (HERBERT P.) continued. 
 
 The SERIES OF BOOKS begun in "DIVERSI COLORES" by 
 Mr. HERBERT P. HORNE, will continue to be pub 
 lished by Mr. Elkin Mathews. 
 
 The intention of the series is to give, in a collected and 
 sometimes revised form, Poems and Essays by various 
 writers, whose names have hitherto been chiefly asso 
 ciated with the Hobby Horse. The series will be edited 
 by Mr. HERBERT P. Home, and will contain : 
 No. II. POEMS AND CAROLS. By SELWYN IMAGE. 
 No. III. ESSAYS UPON MATTHEW ARNOLD. By AR 
 THUR GALTON. {Immediately. 
 No. IV. POEMS. By ERNEST DOWSON. [Immediately. 
 No. V. THE LETTERS AND PAPERS OF ADAM LE- 
 GENDRE. [In preparation. 
 Each volume will contain a new title-page and ornaments 
 designed by the Editor; and the volumes of verse will be 
 uniform with "Diversi Colores." 
 
 HORTON (ALICE'). 
 
 POEMS. [Shortly. 
 
 HUEFFER (OLIVER F. MADOX). 
 
 SONNETS AND POEMS. With a frontispiece. [Shortly. 
 
 HUGHES (ARTHUR). 
 See HAKE. 
 
 HUNT (LEIGH). 
 
 A VOLUME OF ESSAYS now collected for the first time. 
 Edited with a critical Introduction by R. W. M. 
 JOHNSON. [In the press. 
 
 IMAGE (SELWYN]. 
 
 POEMS AND CAROLS. (Diversi Colores Series. New 
 
 Volume). Title design by H. P. HORNE. Printed 
 
 on hand-made paper at the CHISWICK PRESS. i6mo. 
 
 5-y. net. \Just ready. 
 
 " Among the artists who have turned poets will shortly have to be reckoned Mr. 
 
 Selwyn Image. A volume of poems from his pen will be published by Mr. Elkin 
 
 Mathews before long. Those who are acquainted with Mr. Selwyn Image's work 
 
 will expect to find a real and deep poetic charm in this book." Daily Chronicle. 
 
12 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 IMAGE (SELWYN) continued. 
 
 "No one else could have done it ('.., written 'Poems and Carols') in just this 
 way, and the artist himself could have done it in no other way." " A remarkable 
 impress of personality, and ihis personality of singular rarity and interest. Every 
 piece is perfectly composed ; the ' mental cartooning,' to use Rossetti's phrase, has 
 been adequately done . . . an air of grave and homely order . . . a union of 
 quaint and subtly simple homeliness, with a somewhat abstract severity. ... It 
 is a new thing, the revelation of a new poet. . . . Here is a book which may be 
 trusted to outlive most contemporary literature." Saturday Review. 
 
 " An intensely personal expression of a personality of singular charm, gravity, 
 fancifulness, and interest ; work which is alone among contemporary verse alike in 
 regard to substance and to form . . . comes with more true novelty than any 
 book of verse published in England for some years." Athenaum. 
 
 " Some men seem to avoid tame as sedulously as the majority seek it. Mr. Selwyn 
 Image is one of these. He has achieved a charming fame by his very shyness and 
 mystery. His very name has a look of having been designed by the Century Guild, 
 and it was certainly first published in The Century Guild Hobby Horse." The Realm. 
 
 "In the tiny little volume of verse, 'Poems and Carols,' by Selwyn Image, 
 we discern a note of spontaneous inspiration, a delicate and graceiul fancy, and 
 considerable, but unequal, skill of versification . The Carols are skilful reproductions 
 of that rather archaic form of composition, devotional in tone and felicitous in 
 sentiment. Love and nature are the principal themes of the Poems. It is difficult 
 not to be hackneyed in the treatment of such themes, but Mr. Image successfully 
 overcomes the difficulty." The Times. 
 
 " The Catholic movement in literature, a strong reality to-day in England as in 
 France, if working within narrow limits, has its newest interpretation in Mr. Selwyn 
 Image's ' Poems and Carols.' Of course the book is charming to look at and to 
 handle, since it is his. The Chiswick Press and Mr. Mathews have helped him to 
 realize his design." The Sketch. 
 
 ISHAM FACSIMILE REPRINTS; Nos. III. and IV. 
 
 See BRETON and SOUTHWELL. 
 
 %* New Elizabethan Literature at the British Museum, see 
 The Times, 31 August, 1894, also Notes and Queries, Sept., 1894. 
 
 [By the Author of The Art of Thomas Hardy\. 
 JOHNSON (LIONEL). 
 
 POEMS. With a title design and colophon by H. P. HORNE. 
 Printed at the CHISWICK PRESS, on hand-made paper. 
 Sq. post 8vo. 5-r. net. 
 Also, 25 special copies at 155. net. 
 Boston : Copeland and Day. 
 
 " Full of delicate fancy, and display much lyrical grace and felicity." Times. 
 "An air of solidity, combined with something also of severity, is the first 
 mpression one receives from these pages. . . . The poems are more massive 
 than most lyrics are; they aim at dignity and attain it. This is, we believe, the first 
 book of verse that Mr. Johnson has published ; and we would say, on a first reading, 
 that for a first book it was remarkably mature. And so it is, in its accomplishment, 
 its reserve of strength, its unfalteang style. . . . Whatever form his writing 
 takes, it will be the expression of a rich mind, and a rare talent." Saturday Review. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 13 
 
 JOHNSON (LIONEL') continued. 
 
 "Mr. Lionel Johnson's poems have the advantage of a two-fold inspiration. 
 Many of these austere strains could never have been written if he had not been 
 steeped in the most golden poetry of the Greeks; while, on the other hand, side by 
 side with the mellifluous chanting, there comes another note, mild, sweet, and 
 unsophisticated the very bird-note of Celtic poetry, And then again one comes on 
 a very ripe and affluent, as of one who has spoiled the very goldenest harvests of song 
 of cultivated ages . . . Mr. Johnson's poetry is concerned with lofty things and 
 is never less than passionately sincere. It is sane, high-minded, and full of felicities." 
 Illustrated London News. 
 
 "The most obvious characteristics of Mr. Johnson's verse are dignity and 
 distinction , but beneath these one feels a passionate poetic impulse, and a grave 
 fascinating music passes from end to end of the volume." Realm. 
 
 " It is at once stately and passionate, austere, and free. His passion has a sane 
 mood : his fire a white heat. . . . Once again it is the Celtic spirit that makes 
 for higher things. Mr. Johnson's muse is concerned only with the highest. Her 
 flight is as of a winged thing, that goes * higher still and higher,' and has few 
 flutterings near earth." Irish Daily Independent. 
 
 JOHNSON (EFF1E). 
 
 IN THE FIRE, AND OTHER FANCIES. With frontispiece 
 
 by WALTER CRANE. Imperial i6mo. 3$. 6d. net. 
 LAMB (CHARLES). 
 
 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. With an Introduction by 
 ANDREW LANG. Facsimile Reprint of the rare First 
 Edition. With 8 choice stipple engravings in brown 
 ink, after the original plates. Royal i6mo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 Transferred to the present Publisher. 
 LEGENDRE (ADAM), 
 
 THE LETTERS AND PAPERS OF. (Diversi Colores Series.) 
 
 \In preparation. 
 M ARSON (REP. C. L.). 
 
 A VOLUME OF SHORT STORIES. [In preparation. 
 
 MARSrON (PHILIP BOURKE). 
 
 A LAST HARVEST : LYRICS AND SONNETS FROM THE 
 BOOK OF LOVE. Edited, with Biographical Sketch, 
 by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON. 500 copies. Printed 
 by MILLER & SON. Post 8vo. $s. net. 
 
 [ Very few remain. 
 Also 50 copies on hand-made L.P. los. 6d. net. 
 
 [ Very few remain. 
 
 "Among the sonnets with which the volume concludes, there are some fine 
 examples of a form of verse in which all competent authorities allow that Marston 
 excelled ' The Breadth and Beauty of the Spacious Night,' ' To All in Haven,' 
 'Friendship and Love,' 'Love's Deserted Palace' these, to mention no others, 
 have the ' high seriousness ' which Matthew Arnold made the test of true poetry." 
 Atken&um. 
 
14 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 MASON (A. E. JT.). 
 
 A ROMANCE OF WASTDALE. Crown 8vo. 3*. 6d. net. 
 New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company. 
 
 MEYNELL (WILFRID). 
 
 THE CHILD SET IN THE MIDST. By MODERN POETS. 
 With Introduction by W. MEYNELL, and Facsimile of 
 the MS. of the "Toys" by COVENTRY PATMORE. 
 Royal i6mo. 3-r. 6d. net. 
 
 MORRIS (WILLIAM). 
 
 See GASKIN. 
 MORRISON (G. E.). 
 
 ALONZO QUIXANO, otherwise DON QUIXOTE: being a 
 dramatization of the Novel of CERVANTES, and espe 
 cially of those parts which he left unwritten. Cr. 8vo. 
 is. net. 
 
 *' This play, distinguished and full of fine qualities, is a brave attempt to enrich 
 our poetic drama. . . . The reverence shown for Cervantes, the care to preserve 
 intact the characteristics the Spanish master lingered over so humorously, yet so 
 lovingly, have led Mr. Morrison to deserved and notable success." Academy. 
 
 MUSA CATHOLICA. 
 
 Selected and Edited by MRS. WILLIAM SHARP. 
 
 [/ preparation. 
 
 MURRAY (ALMA). 
 
 PORTRAIT AS BEATRICE CENCI. With Critical Notice 
 containing Four Letters from ROBERT BROWNING. 
 8vo. 2s. net. 
 
 NOEL (HON. RODEN). 
 
 MY SEA, and other posthumous Poems. With an Intro 
 duction by STANLEY ADDLESHAW. Cr. 8vo. 3$. 6d. 
 net. {Immediately. 
 
 SELECTED LYRICS FROM THE WORKS OF THE LATE HON. 
 RODEN NOEL. With a Biographical and Critical 
 Essay by PERCY ADDLESHAW. Illustrated with Two 
 Portraits, including a reproduction of the famous picture 
 by W. B. RICHMOND, R.A. \_Inpreparation. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 
 
 NOEL (HON. RODEN) continued. 
 
 POOR PEOPLE'S CHRISTMAS. Printed at the AYLESBURY 
 PRESS. 250 copies. i6mo. is. net. 
 
 [ Very few remain. 
 
 " Displays the author at his best Mr. Noel always has something 
 
 to say worth saying, and his technique though like Browning, he is too intent upon 
 idea to bestow all due care upon form is generally sufficient and sometimes 
 masterly. We hear too seldom from a poet of such deep and kindly sympathy." 
 Sunday Times. 
 
 O'SULLlfAN (HNCENT). 
 
 POEMS. With a title-design by SELWYN IMAGE. 
 
 [/ preparation. 
 POWELL (F. YORK}. 
 See CORBIN. 
 
 PROBYN (MAY}. 
 
 PANSIES : A BOOK OF POEMS. With a title-page and cover 
 design by MINNIE MATHEWS. Fcap. 8vo. 3*. 6d. net. 
 
 " Miss Probyn's new volume is a slim one, but rare in quality. She is no mere 
 pretty verse maker ; her spontaneity and originality are beyond question, and so far 
 as colour and picturesqueness go, only Mr. Francis Thompson rivals her among the 
 English Catholic poets of to-day." Sketch. 
 
 " This too small book is a mine of the purest poetry, very holy, and very 
 refined, and removed as far as possible from the tawdry or the common-place." Irish 
 Monthly. 
 
 "The religious poems are in their way perfect, with a tinge of the mysticism 
 one looks for i n the poetry of two centuries ago, but so seldom meets with nowadays." 
 Catholic Times. 
 
 " Full of a delicate devotional sentiment and much metrical felicity." Times. 
 
 RHYMERS' CLUB, THE SECOND BOOK OF THE. 
 
 Contributions by E. DOWSON, E. J. ELLIS, G. A. GREENE, 
 A. HILLIER, LIONEL JOHNSON, RICHARD LE GAL- 
 LIENNE, VICTOR PLARR, E. RADFORD, E. RHYS, 
 
 T. W. ROLLESTONE, ARTHUR SYMONS, J. TOD- 
 
 HUNTER, W. B. YEATS. Printed by MILLER & SON. 
 500 copies (of which 400 are for sale). i6mo. $s. ne ^' 
 50 copies on hand-made L.P. los. 6d. net. 
 New York : Dodd, Mead 6 Co. 
 
 "The work of twelve very competent verse writers, many of them not unknown 
 to fame. This form of publication is not a new departure exactly, but it is a recur 
 rence to the excellent fashion of the Elizabethan age, when 'England's Helicon,' 
 Davison's ' Poetical Rhapsody,' and ' Phoenix Nest,' with scores of other collections, 
 contained the best songs of the best song-writers of that tuneful epoch." Black and 
 White. 
 
1 6 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 RHYMERS' CLUB, SECOND BOOK OF 7 'HE continued. 
 
 "The future of these thirteen writers, who have thus banded themselves 
 together, will be watched with interest. Already there is fulfilment in their work, 
 and there is much promise." Speaker, 
 
 *' In the intervals of Welsh rarebit and stout provided for them at the 'Cheshire 
 Cheese,' in Fleet Street, the members of the Rhymers' Club have produced some very 
 pretty poems, which Mr. Elkin Mathews has issued in his notoriously dainty 
 manner." Pall Mall Gaxette. 
 
 SCHAFF (DR. P.). 
 
 LITERATURE AND POETRY : Papers on Dante, Latin 
 Hymns, &c. Portrait and Plates. 100 copies only. 
 
 8vo. ios.net. \_Veryfewremain. 
 SCULL (W. DELAPLAINE). 
 
 THE GARDEN OF THE MATCHBOXES, and other Stories. 
 
 Crown 8vo. $s. 6d. net. [fn preparation. 
 
 SHARP (WILLIAM). 
 
 ECCE PUELLA AND OTHER PROSE IMAGININGS. Cr. 8vO. 
 
 3-r. 6d. net. 
 SONG OF SONGS, WHICH IS SOLOMON'S. 
 
 Twenty Drawings from designsby ALTHEA GYLES. 4to. 
 
 One Guinea net. 
 Also 25 copies on special paper, Two Guineas net. 
 
 \In preparation. 
 [Isham Facsimile Reprint]. 
 SOUTHWELL] (R\OBERT}\ 
 
 A FOVREFOVLD MEDITATION, OF THE FOURE LAST 
 
 THINGS. COMPOSED IN A DIUINE POEME. By R. S. 
 The author of S. Peter's complaint. London, 1606. 
 A Facsimile Reprint, with a Bibliographical Note by 
 CHARLES EDMONDS. 150 copies. Printed on hand 
 made paper at the CHISWICK PRESS. Roy. i6mo. 
 5.9. net. 
 Also 50 copies, large paper. 7-r. 6d. net. 
 
 Facsimile reprint from the unique fragment discovered in the autumn of 1 867 by 
 Mr. Charles Edmonds in a disused lumber room at Lamport Hall, Northants, and 
 lately purchased by the British Museum authorities. This fragment supplies the first 
 sheet of a previously unknown poem by Robert Southwell, the Roman Catholic poet, 
 whose religious fervour lends a pathetic beauty to everything that he wrote, and 
 future editors of Southwell's works will find it necessary to give it close study. The 
 whole of the Poem has been completed from two MS. copies, which differ in the 
 number of Stanzas. 
 
 SPLENDID SHILLING SERIES. 
 See BINYON BRIDGES. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 17 
 
 SYMONDS (JOHN ADDINGTON). 
 
 IN THE KEY OF BLUE, AND OTHER PROSE ESSAYS. 
 With cover designed by C. S. RICKETTS. Printed at 
 the BALLANTYNE PRESS. Third Edition. Thick 
 cr. 8vo. Ss. 6d. net. 
 New York : Macmillan 6 Co. 
 
 " The variety of Mr. Symonds' interests ! Here are criticisms upon the Venetian 
 Tiepolo, upon M. Zola, upon Mediaeval Norman Songs, upon Elizabethan lyrics, 
 upon Plato's and Dante's ideals of love; and not a sign anywhere, except may be in 
 the last, that he has more concern for, or knowledge of, one theme than another. 
 Add to these artistic themes the delighted records of English or Italian scenes, with 
 their rich beauties of nature or of art, and the human passions that inform them. 
 How joyous a sense of great possessions won at no man's hurt or loss must such a 
 man retain." Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " Some of the essays are very charming, in Mr. Symonds' best style, but the 
 first one, that which gives its name to the volume, is at least the most curious of tne 
 lot." Speaker. 
 
 "The other essays are the work of a sound and sensible critic." National 
 Observer. 
 
 "The literary essays are more restrained, and the prepared student will find them 
 full of illumination and charm, while the descriptive papers hnve the attractiveness 
 which Mr. Symonds always gives to work in this genre."- MR. JAS. ASHCROFT 
 NoBLE, in The Literary World. 
 
 rENNTSON (LORD}. 
 
 See HALLAM, VAN DYKE. 
 
 rODHUNTER (DR. JOHN]. 
 
 A SICILIAN IDYLL. With a Frontispiece by WALTER 
 CRANE. Printed at the CHISWICK PRESS. 250 copies. 
 Imp. i6mo. $s.net. 50 copies hand-made L. P. Fcap. 
 4to. IDs. 6d net. [ Very few remain. 
 
 " He combines his notes skilfully, and puts his own voice, so to speak, into 
 them, and the music that results is sweet and of a pastoral tunefulness." Speaker. 
 
 " The blank verse is the true verse of pastoral, quiet and scholarly, with frequent 
 touches of beauty. The echoes of Theocritus and of the classics at large are modest 
 and felicitous." Anti-Jacobin. 
 
 " A charming little pastoral play in one act. The verse is singularly graceful, 
 and many bright gems of wit sparkle in the dialogues." Literary World. 
 
 " Well worthy of admiration for its grace and del cate finish, its clearness, and 
 its compactness." Athenaum. 
 
 Also the following works by the same Author transferred 
 to the present Publisher, viz. : LAURELLA, and other 
 Poems, 5,y. net. ALCESTIS, a Dramatic Poem, 4^. net. 
 A STUDY OF SHELLEY, $s. 6d. net. FOREST SONGS, 
 and other Poems, 3*. net. THE BANSHEE, 3*. net. 
 HELENA IN TROAS, 2s. 6d. net. 
 
1 8 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 TYNAN (KATHARINE). 
 See HINKSON. 
 
 VAN DYKE (HENRY). 
 
 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. Third Edition, enlarged. 
 Cr. 8vo. 5-y. 6d. net. 
 
 The additions consist of a Portrait, Two Chapters, and the 
 Bibliography expanded. The Laureate himself gave valuable 
 aid in correcting various details . 
 
 "Mr. Elkin Mathews publishes a new edition, revised and enlarged, of that 
 excellent work, ' The Poetry of Tennyson,' by Henry Van Dyke. The additions 
 are considerable. It is extremeiy interesting to go over the bibliographical notes 
 to see the contemptuous or, at best, contemptuously patronising tone of the reviewers 
 in the early thirties gradually turning to civility, to a loud chorus of applause." 
 Anti-Jacobin. 
 
 " Considered as an aid to the study of the Laureate, this labour of love merits 
 warm commendation. Its grouping of the poems, its bibliography and chronology, 
 its catalogue of Biblical allusion and quotations, are each and all substantial accessories 
 to the knowledge of the author." DR. RICHARD GARNETT, in the Illustrated 
 London News. 
 
 WATSON (E. H. LACON). 
 
 THE UNCONSCIOUS HUMOURIST, AND OTHER ESSAYS. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 
 \_Mr. WedmorJs Short Stories. New and Uniform Issue. 
 Crown &z>0. } each Volume 35. 6d. net^\ 
 
 WED MORE (FREDERICK). 
 
 PASTORALS OF FRANCE. Fourth Edition. Crown Svo. 
 35-. 6d. net. [Ready. 
 
 New York : Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 
 " A writer in whom delicacy of literary touch is united with an almost disem 
 bodied fineness of sentiment." Athenaum. 
 
 " Of singular quaintness and beauty." Contemporary Review. 
 
 "The stories are exquisitely told." The World. 
 
 *' Delicious idylls, written with Mr. Wedmore's fascinating command ot 
 sympathetic incident, and with his characteristic charm of style." Illustrated London 
 
 "The publication of the 'Pastorals' may be said to have rerealed, not only anew 
 talent, but a new literary genre. . . The charm ol" the writing never fails." Bookman 
 
 " In their simplicity, their tenderness, their quietude, their truthfulness to the 
 remote life that they depict, 4 Pastorals of France ' are almost perfect." Spectator. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 19 
 
 WEDMORE (FREDERICK) continued. 
 
 RENUNCIATIONS. Third Edition. With a Portrait by 
 J. J. SHANNON. Cr. 8vo. 3*. 6d. net. [Ready. 
 
 New York: Charles Scribner^s Sons. 
 
 "These are clever studies in polite realism.'' Athenaum. 
 
 *' They are quite unusual. The picture of Richard Pelse, with his one moment 
 of romance, is exquisite." St. James's Gaxette. 
 
 " 'The Chemist in the Suburbs,' in * Renunciations,' is a pure joy. . . . The 
 story of Richard Pelse's life is told with a power not unworthy of the now disabled 
 hand that drew for us the lonely old age of M. Parent." MR. TRAILL, in The 
 New Review. 
 
 "The book belongs to the highest order of imaginative work. ' Renunciations ' 
 are studies from the life pictures which make plain to us some of the innermost 
 workings of the heart." Academy. 
 
 " Mr. Wedmore has gained for himself an enviable reputation. His style has 
 distinction, has form. He has the poet's secret how to bring out the beauty of 
 common things. . . 'The Chemist in the Suburbs,' in * Renunciations, ' is his 
 masterpiece." Saturday Review. 
 
 " We congratulate Mr. Wedmore on his vivid, wholesome, and artistic work, so 
 full of suppressed feeling and of quiet strength." Standard. 
 
 ENGLISH EPISODES. Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 3*. 6d. 
 net. [Ready. 
 
 New York : Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 
 " Distinction is the characteristic of Mr. Wedmore's manner. These things 
 remain on the mind as things seen ; not read of." Daily News. 
 
 " A penetrating insight, a fine pathos. Mr. Wedmore is a peculiarly fine and 
 sane and carefully deliberate artist." Westminster Gaxette. 
 
 " In ' English Episodes ' we have another proof of Mr. Wedmore's unique 
 position among the writers of fiction of the day. We hardly think of his short 
 volumes as * stories,' but rather as life-secrets and hearts' blood, crystalised somehow, 
 and, in their jewel-form, cut with exceeding skill by the hand of a master-workman.' 
 . The faultless episode of the 'Vicar of Pimlico' is the best in loftiness of 
 purpose and keeness of interest ; but the ' Fitting Obsequies ' is its equal on different 
 lines, and deserves to be a classic.'' World. 
 
 " ' English Episodes ' are worthy successors of ' Pastorals ' and ' Renunciations,' 
 and with them should represent a permanent addition to Literature." Academy. 
 
 There may also be had the Collected Edition (1893) of " Pastorals 
 of France" and "Renunciations" with Title-page by 
 John Fulleylove> R.I. $s. net. 
 
 WICKSTEED (P. H. y Warden of University Hall). 
 DANTE : Six SERMONS. 
 %* A FOURTH EDITION. (Unaltered Reprint). Cr. 8vo. 
 
 2s. net. 
 
 " It is impossible not to be struck wtth the reality and earnestness with which 
 Mr. Wicksteed seeks to do justice to what are the supreme elements of the Commedia, 
 hs spiritual significance, and the depth and insight of its moral teaching." Guarditn. 
 
20 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 WYNNE (FRANCES). 
 
 WHISPER ! A Volume of Verse. Fcap. 8vo. buckram. 
 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 Transferred by the Author to the present Publisher. 
 
 " A little volume of singularly sweet and graceful poems, hardly one of which 
 can be read by any lover of poetry without definite pleasure, and everyone who reads 
 either of them without is, we venture to say, unable to appreciate that play of light 
 and shadow on the heart of man which is of the very essence of poetry." Spectator. 
 
 "The book includes, to my humble taste, many very charming pieces, musical, 
 simple, straightforward and not 4 as sad as night.' It is long since I have read a more 
 agreeable volume of verse, successful up to the measure of its aims and ambitions." 
 MR. ANDREW LANG, in Longman's Magazine. 
 
 TEATS (W. B.}. 
 
 THE SHADOWY WATERS. A Poetic Play. [In preparation. 
 
 THE WIND AMONG THE REKDS (Poems). [fn preparation. 
 
 MR. ELKIN MATHEWS holds likewise the only copies of the 
 following Books printed at the Private Press of the REV. 
 C. HENRY DANIEL, Fellow of Worcester College, Oxford. 
 
 BRIDGES (ROBERT). 
 
 THE GROWTH OF LOVE. Printed in Fell's old English 
 
 type, on Whatman paper. 100 copies. Fcap. 410. 
 
 3- 3*- net - 
 SHORTER POEMS. Printed in Fell's old English type, on 
 
 Whatman paper. 100 copies. Five Parts. Fcap. 410. 
 
 2. I2s. 6d. net. \_Veryfewremain. 
 
 HYMN I ECCLESI& CVKA HENRICI DANIEL. 
 Small 8vo. (1882), i. i$s. net. 
 
 BLAKE HIS SONGS OF INNOCENCE. 
 Sq. i6mo. 100 copies only. 15^. net. 
 
 MILTON ODE ON THE NATIVITY. 
 Sq. i6mo. IDS. 6d. net. 
 
 LONDON: VIGO STREET, W. 
 
ItH 
 
 M97049 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY