THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY From the collection of James Collins, Drumcondra , Ire land ♦ Purchased, 1918. 920.01 P589 ipr.'tiuilt M iuHkWI Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015 https://archive.org/details/pictorialtreasurOOunse » f OF Famous Men and Famous Deeds: COMPRISING \ NAVAL AND MILITARY HEROES, DISCOVERERS,, INVENTORS, STATESMEN, PHILANTHROPISTS, v * ARTISTS, /AUTHORS, AND OTHERS. EMBELLISHED WITH ABOUT ONE HUNDRED FIRST-CLASS WOOD ENGRAVINGS, AND A SERIES OF FULL-PAGE PORTRAITS, Ptinted in the best style of Chromo- Lithography from Photographs and other authentic sources. LONDON : FREDERICK WARNE AND NEW YORK. & CO., Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London. ^£0.0 1 PS ^3 CONTENTS. PAGE "The Man for all Time" i • schamyl, the circassian chief ... 12 The Longest Tunnel in the World . 16 Some Early Adventurers 21 The Discoverer of the North-East Passage 24 Giovanni Dupre, the Italian Sculptor 29 Thomas Alva Edison 32 -Sir William Ffrgusson 38 -Sir Titus Salt, of Saltaire .... 40 ; Some Famous Navigators 42 -The Emancipation of the Sekfs ... 46 Edward Baines, of Leeds 50 Sir Edwin Landseer 54 John Milton 57 The Builder of the Eddystohe Light- house 63 Sir Henry Holland 72 The Prince of Discoverers 76 Adolphe Thiers, the Statesman ... 83 Captain Eads and the Mississippi Jetties 87 Dr. Schliemann's Discoveries .... 93 Colonel Colt and his Inventions . . 100 The Hero of Trafalgar 106 My Escape from the Dacoits . . . . 111 Captain Cook 119 Eernard Palissy, the Huguenot Potter 122 English Travellers in Afghanistan . 129 iiu33 and the bohemian reformation 1 34 The Originator of Penny Postage . . 137 Rear-Admiral Sherard Osborne . . . 141 William Caxton • 145 Sir John Burgoyne 148 War Correspondents 1 53 A Warehouse of Wonders 156 The Founder of a Republic .... 159 Three Years among the Savages . . 161 Charles Kingsley 170 Lesseps and the Suez Canal . . . . 171 Martin Luther's Early Life .... 178 Spenser and the "Faery Queen" . . 181 Early London Water Supply .... 183 A Noble Sailor 188 Raphael and his Cartoons 191 Dickens and his Writings 192 The Loss of "The Kent" 196 An Amphibious Man 205 The Black Prince 207 The Story of Grisell Cochrane . . . 209 Triumphs of Civil Engineering . . . 213 The Founder of Singapore 216 The Projector of Tontines 219 The Prison and the Monument . . . 221 Albert Durer, the Artist 225 A Daring Night Ride ....... 232 Lights, Beacons, and Buoys 235 The Learned Blacksmith 239 Bishop Wilberforce 245 The Mighty Saladin 248 Pastor Harms and his Parish .... 250 1 mr kobert Peel 253 Sir Charles Wheatstone 261 The Captain of the Canoe Club . . . 262 Printer and President ...... 267 Sir Henry Bessemer 270 An Italian Patriot 272 Hugh Miller and his Works .... 275 "The Hammer of the Dutch" . . . 278 The "Captain" Turret Ship .... 280 Miles Standish 2S2 An Ascent of Vesuvius by Rail . . . 285 The Hero of Waterloo 290 Reporting by Telephone 3C0 Boscobel House and Charles II. . . . 302 Lady Rachel Russell 308 Incidents of Heroism 513 William Harvey's Discovery .... 321 An Uncrowned King 323 Galiluo and his Daughter 327 Fasts and F asters 330 Sir Christopher Wren 335 Flora Macdonald, the Heroine ... 341 A Dive in the Mediterranean . . . 346 A Journey to Teheran 350 Michael Angelo 360 Robert Raikes 368 A Nation's Liberator 370 Newspapers, Past and Present . . . 376 Prince Bismarck 379 "The Ariosto of the North". . . . 389 The Man of Destiny 396 The Maharajah Duleep Singh . . . 404 George Smith's Assyrian Discoveries . 407 Korner, The Poet Hero 410 Charles I. of England 414 John Penn the Engineer 423 Waterfalls and their Associations . 425 Marshal Espartero 433 Livingstone's Last Journey 439 Limburg and its Cathedral .... 444. Lord Lawrence 446 The Author of "Robinson Crusoe" . 449 486611 CONTENTS. PAGE PAGB • 45 2 Gambetta : Aeronaut and Statesman . 4**3 . 459 486 A Self-taught Mechanician . . , 461 The Vicissitudes of an Inventor . . 490 492 J" r\r»T\ Taum P TTCC ITT T r P t r n » t r t? r> Avrr\ tttc Patttvp 1 xlc LJivH,K AiNJJ xilb ^ALLllNLi • . . . 494 An Incident of the Indian Mutiny 471 George Moore, the Philanthropist . 497 • 474 The Educational Parliament. . . . • 477 504 . 478 505 WOOD ENGRA VINGS. PAGE " The Man for all Time m — New-Place and Guild Chapel . . . . . . . z Shakspere 5 The Bedroom 8 John Shakspere's jHouse 9 Porch of Stratford Church . 11 Schamyl, the Circassian Chief— Fighting in Defence of her Home 13 Val di Ticino, near Airolo, the South Entrance to the St. Gothard Tunnel ... 17 The Discoverer of the North-east Passage . 24 The Vega at Anchor in the Bay of Naples . 28 Thomas Alva Edison — the American Inventor and Electrician 33 Saltaire Club and Institution .... 41 The Great Bell of Moscow 49 Edward Baines 53 John Milton 57 John Milton in his Blindness .... 61 Winstanley's Lighthouse 64 Eddystone Lighthouses— Future, Present, and Past 65 Horizontal Section of Eddystone Lighthouse . 68 Hayes Farm, Devon 76 Adolphe Thiers, the Statesman .... 83 Dr. Schliemann 93 Young Woman of Mycenae 97 Lord Nelson 106 Monument to Lord Nelson, at the Menai Straits 109 The Sentinel Rock, dedicated to the memory of Captain Cook 119 Sir Rowland Hill 138 The Almonry, Westminster 147 War Correspondents— Mr. F. Villiers . . .154 Melton Prior 155 The Founder of a Republic 159 A Scene in the South Sea Islands . . .165 Ferdinand de Lesseps 173 Edmund Spenser and the "Faery Queen". . 181 Japanese Royal Barge 188 Charles Dickens 193 Peggotty's Hut at Yarmouth . . . .195 Captain Boyton 205 Entrance of the Mont Cenis Tunnel . . .213 Bedford Jail 221 The Old Baptizing Place at Bedford. . . 224 Durer's House at Nuremberg 225 The Nativity 229 Elihu Burritt 239 Knight Templar ........ 249 Sir Robert Peel 253 Sir Robert Peel's Birth.lace .... 257 Tamworth Castle. ..... 260 PACK On the Jordan ........ 265 The Cathedral of Messina 273 Captain Cowper Phipps Coles 281 Street Scene in Naples 289 Dangan Castle— The Ancestral Home of the Wesleys 296 Boscobel House ........ 305 Lady Rachel Russell 309 Monument over the Well, Cawnpore . . . 316 Oliver Cromwell 324 The Convent Cloisters 329 Wren's First Design for the Monument . . 336 Sir Christopher Wren's First Design for St. Paul's Cathedral 337 Roadside Scene near Naples 348 Palace of the British Envoy at Teheran . . 353 Michael Angelo 360 Ruins of Old Rome 365 Italian Peasantry 373 John Walter 377 Prince Bismarck 3 81 Loch Katrine 389 Melrose Abbey 393 Napoleon III 4°° Empress Eugenie 401 Assyrian Palace, according to Layard's Dis- coveries 4°9 Charles I. of England 416 Niagara, from the American Shore . . . 425 The Nevada Fall, Yosemite Valley . . .428 Glacier Point and Merced River, from the Valley Below 4 2 9 Pont Aberglaslyn 43 2 Livingstone's Last Journey 439 Natives going to Market 443 Limburg Cathedral 445 The Emperor of Russia 452 The Empress of Russia 453 Haddon Hall 459 On the River 4<>£ Lord John Russell 467 \lfred Tennyson 475 Death of Charles XII 481 Leon Gambetta 483 A Sarcophagus at Delapais 487 The Mosque of Mahomet's Nurse .... 483 View in Cyprus 489 William Ewart Gladstone 492 George Moore ........ 500 Mr. W. E. Forster 502 Sir Charles Reed 503 Giotto so 1 ? Ornamental Tam.piece 538 Famous Men & Famous Deeds. it THE! FOF( ALL TIME." [he year of William Shakspere's birth was a fearful year for Stratford. The plague raged with terrific violence m the little town. It was the same ^p 5 epidemic which ravaged Europe in that year; which in the previous year had desolated London, and still continued there. The red cross was pro- bably not on the door of John Shakspere's dwelling. "Fortunately foi mankind," says Malone, " it did not reach the house where the infan» f Shakspere lay; for not one of that name appears on the dead list." The parish of Stratford was unquestionably the birthplace of William Shakspere. Tradition says that William Shakspere was born at one of his father's copyhold houses, in Greenhill Street, or in Henley Street. Tradition points out the very room in which he was born. Let us not disturb the belief. To look upon that ancient house — perhaps now one of the oldest in Stratford — pilgrims have come from every region where the name of Shakspere is known. The property passed into a younger branch of the poet's family; the descendants of that FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. blanch grew poorer and poorer ; they sold o!T its orchards and gardens ; they divided and subdivided it into smaller tenements j it became partly a butcher's shop, partly a little inn. The external appearance was greatly altered, and its humble front ren- dered still humbler. The windows in the roof were removed ; and the half which had become the inn received a new brick casing. The central portion is that which is now shown as the birthplace of the illustrious man, " the myriad-minded." The only qualifications necessary for the admission of a boy into the Free Grammar School of Stratford were, that he should be a resident in the town, of seven years of age, and able to read. The Grammar School was essentially connected with the Corporation of Stratford ; and it is im- possible to imagine that when the son of John Shakspere became qualified by age for admission to a school where the best education of the time was given, literally for nothing, his father in that year being chief alderman, should not have sent him to that school. We assume, without any hesitation, that William Shakspere did receive .in every just sense of the word the education of a scholar ; and as such education was to be had at his own door, we also assume that he was brought up at the Free Grammar School of his own town. His earlier instruction would therefore be a preparation for this school, and the pro- bability is that such instruction was given him at home. To the Grammar School, then, with some preparation, we hold that William Shak- spere goes, about the year 1571. His father is at this time, as we have said, chief alder- man of his town ; he is a gentleman, now, of repute and authority ; he is Master John Shakspere; and assuredly the worthy curate of the neighbouring village of Luddington, Thomas Hunt, who was also the school- master, would have received his new scholar with some kindness. As his " shining morning face " first passed out of the main street into that old court through which the upper r 3ora of learning was to be reached, a new life would be opening upon him. The humble minister of religion who was his first instructor has left no memorials ol his talents or his acquirements ; and in a few years another master came after him* Thomas Jenkins, also unknown to fame. All praise and honour be to them ; for it is impossible to imagine that the teachers of William Shakspere were evil instructors, giving the boy husks instead of wholesome aliment. They could not have been harsh and perverse instructors, for such spoil the gentlest natures, and his was always gentle — " My gentle Shakspere " is he called by a rough but noble spirit — one in whom was all honesty and genial friendship under a rude exterior. His wondrous abilities could not be spoiled even by ignorant instructors. Of the earlier part of that career of William Shakspere, nothing can, probably, ever be known with certainty. His father added to his independent means, we have no doubt, by combining several occupations in the principal one of looking after a little land. Shakspere's youth was, in all proba- bility, one of very desultory employment, which afforded him leisure to make those extraordinary acquisitions of general know- ledge which could scarcely have been made, or rather, the foundations of which could not have been established, during the active life which we believe he led from about his twentieth year. The earliest connected narrative of Shak- spere's life, that of Rowe, thus briefly con- tinues the history of the boy : — " Upon his leaving school he seems to have given entirely into that way of living which his father proposed to him; and in order to settle in the world after a family manner, he thought fit to marry while he was yet very young. His wife was the daughter of one Hathaway, said to have been a sub- stantial yeoman in the neighbourhood of I Stratford." At Shottery, a pretty village 1 within a mile of the town, there is yet a 1 farmhouse, now divided into two fene- 1 ments, where it is affirmed that Hathaway dwelt. By a copy of a court roll, of the date of 1 543, it appears that John IT aiha- ' THE MAN FOR ALL TIME." 3 (Vay then held a copyhold estate at Shottery. VVilliam Shakspere was married to Anna Hathaway before the close of the year 1582. He was then eighteen years and a half old. This was indeed an early marriage. His wife was considerably older than himself. Early in 1585 twin children were born to him, and they were baptized on the 2nd of February as " Hamnet and Judeth." The cause which drove Shakspere from Stratford is thus stated by Rowe : — " He had, by a misfortune common enough to young fellows, fallen into ill company, and, amongst them, some that made a frequent practice of deer-stealing engaged him more than once in robbing a park that belonged to Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote, near Stratford. For this he was prosecuted by that gentleman, as he thought, somewhat too severely ; and in order to revenge that ill usage he made a ballad upon him. And though this, probably the first essay of his poetry, be lost, yet it is said to have been so very bitter, that it redoubled the prose- cution against him to that degree that he was obliged to leave his business and family in Warwickshire for some time, and shelter himself in London." Although John Shakspere, at the time of his son's early marriage, was not, as we think, "in distressed circumstances," his means were not such probably, at any time, as to have allowed him to have borne the charge of his son's family. That William Shakspere maintained them by some honourable course of industry we cannot doubt. Scrivener or schoolmaster, he was employed. It is on every account to be believed that the altered circumstances in which he had placed himself, in connection with the natural ambition which a young man, a husband and a father, would enter- tain, led him to London not very long after his marriage. It has been discovered by Mr. Collier that in 1589, when Shakspere was only twenty-five, he was joint proprietor Si the Blackfriars Theatre, with a fourth of .he other proprietors below him in the list. He had, at twenty-five, a standing in society; he had the means, without doubt, of main- taining his family ; as he advanced in the proprietorship of the same theatre, he realized a fortune. The first play of Shakspere's which was printed was " The First Part of the Con- tention " ("Henry VI.." Part II.), and that did not appear till 1594. Of the plays produced before the close of the sixteenth century, we would assign several to the period from Shakspere's early manhood to 1591. Some of those dramas may possibly then have been created in an imperfect state, very different from that in which we have received them. That " Hamlet " in a very imperfect state, pro- bably more imperfect even than the sketch in the possession of the Duke of Devon- shire, is the play alluded to by Nashe in 1589, we have little doubt. In the Duke of Devonshire's copy, dated 1602, there are passages, afterwards omitted, which deci- dedly refer to an early state of the stage. Amongst the comedies, " The Two Gentle- men of Verona," " Love's Labour's Lost," " The Comedy of Errors," and " The Tam- ing of the Shrew," contain very strong external evidence, especially in the structure of their versification, that they belong to the poet's earliest period. We have only one drama to add to this cycle, and that, we believe, was " Romeo and Juliet " in its original form. The " Midsummer Night's Dream " may be taken, we apprehend, as a connecting link between the dramas which belong tu the first cycle and those which may be assigned to the remaining years of the sixteenth century. We have little difficulty in determining the plays which belong to Shakspere's middle period. The list of Meres, and the dates of the original editions of those plays, are our best guides. The earliest of the historical plays of this cycle were those which completed the great story of the wars of the Roses. " Richard III." natu- rally terminated the eventful history of the House of York ; " Richard II." commenced the more magnificent exhibition of the foi- tunes of the House of Lancaster. Both 4 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. these plays were printed in 1597. The two great historical plays of " Henry IV." which succeeded them were, no doubt, produced before 1596. " Henry V." undoubtedly be- longs to that year; and this great song of national triumph grew out of the earlier history of the " madcap Prince of Wales." The three later histories are most remark- able for the exhibition of the greatest comic power that the world has ever seen. When the genius of Shakspere produced Falstaff, its most distinguishing characteris- tics, his wit and humour, had attained their extremest perfection. There is much of the same high comedy in " King John." This was the period which also produced those comic dramas which are most dis- tinguished for their brilliancy of dialogue — the " fine filed phrase " which Meres describes — " The Merry Wives of Windsor," " Much Ado about Nothing," and " Twelfth Night " ; "The Merchant of Venice," and " All's Well that Ends Well," belong to the more romantic class. The " Twelfth Night" was originally thought to have been one of Shakspere's latest plays ; but it is now proved beyond a doubt that it was acted in the Middle Temple Hall in the Christmas of 1601. The close of the sixteenth century brings us to Shakspere's thirty-fifth year. He had f.hen been about fifteen years in London. We are not willing to believe that his whole time was passed in the capital. It is not necessary to believe it; for the evidence, such as it is, partly gossip and partly docu- mentary, makes for the contrary opinion. Aubrey tell us " the humour of the con- stable in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' he happened to take at Grendon in Bucks, which is the road from London to Stratford, and there was living that constable about 1642, when I first came to Oxon." There is no constable in " A Midsummer Night's Dream"; but he probably refers to the ever-famous Dogberry or Verges. In the same paper Aubrey says, " he was wont to go to his native country once a year." But we have more trustworthy evidence than that of John Aubrey for believing that Shakspere, however indispensable a pro tracted residence in London might be to his interests and those of his family, never cast aside the link which bound him to his native town. In 1596 his only son died, and in Stratford he was buried. The parochial register gives us the melancholy record of this loss. This event, afflicting as it must have been, did not render the great poet's native town less dear to him. There his father and mother, there his wife and daughters, there his sister still lived. In 1597 he purchased the principal house in Stratford. It was built by Sir Hugh Clopton, in the reign of Henry VII., and was devised by him under the name of the great house. Dugdale describes it as " a fair house built of brick and timber." It appears to have been sold out of the Clopton family before it was purchased by Shakspere. In the poet's will it is described as " all that capital messuage or tenement, with the appurtenances, in Stratford, aforesaid, called the New Place." It is now incontestably proved that in the year previous to 1596 Shakspere held a much more important rank as a sharer in the Blackfriars Theatre than in 1589 ; and that the Cxlobe Theatre also belonged to the body of proprietors of which he was one. There is a tradition that the valuable estate of New Place was purchased by Shakspere through the munificent assist- ance of Lord Soutnampton. It is pleasant to believe such a tradition ; but it is not necessary to account for Shakspere's pro- perty in the theatres, or even for his purchase of New Place at Stratford, that we should imagine that some extraordinary prodigality of bounty had been lavished on him. He obtained his property in the theatre by his honest labours, steadily exerted, though with unequalled facility, from his earliest manhood. The profits which he received not only enabled him to maintain his family, but to create an estate ; and his was not a solitary case. Shakspere during the last year or two of the sixteenth century, and the opening 6 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. years of the seventeenth, was for the most part in London. In 1598 we find his townsman, Richard Quiney, writing him a letter, requesting the loan of thirty pounds. Mr. Alderman Sturley, with reference to some public business of that period, not only says in a letter that " our countryman, Mr. William Shakspere, would procure us money," but speaks "of the friends he can make." Such notices are decisive as to the position Shakspere then held in the estimation ot the world. In 1601 his father died ; and his burial is registered at Stratford. He appears then to have had three brothers living, — Gilbert, Richard, and Edmund. In 1603 James I. ascended the throne of England. Lord Southampton, who had so imprudently participated in the con- spiracy of Essex, was a favourite of the new king ; and one almost of the first acts of the reign was a grant of a patent to the proprietors of the Blackfriars and Globe Theatres. In this patent the name of Shakspere stands the second ; the names mentioned being "Lawrence Fletcher, William Shakspere, Richard Burbage, Au- gustine Phillips, John Hemmings, Henry Condell, William Sly, Robert Armyn, Richard Cowley." It would appear that at this period Shak- spere was desirous of retiring from the more laborious duties of his profession as an actor. He desired to be appointed, there is little doubt, to the office of Master of the Queen's Revels. Daniel, a brother poet, was appointed ; and in a letter to the Lord Keeper, Sir Thomas Egerton, he thus speaks of one of the competitors for the office : — "It seemeth to my humble judgment that one who is the author of plays now daily presented on the public stages of London, and the possessor of no small gains, and moreover himself an actor in the King's company of comedians, could not with reason pretend to be master of the Queen's Majesty's revels, forasmuch as he would sometimes be asked to approve and allow of his own writings." But Shakspere continued to hold his property in the theatre. In 1608 the Corporation of London again attempted to interfere with the actors of the Black- friars ; and there being little chance of ejecting them despotically, a negotiation was set on foot for the purchase of their property. A document found by Mr. Collier amongst the Egerton papers a! once determines Shakspere's position in regard to his theatrical proprietorship. It is a valuation, containing the following item : — "Item. W. Shakspere asketh for the wardrobe and proper- ties of the same playhouse ^5 00, and for his four shares, the same as his fellows Bur- bidge and Fletcher, viz : — £ 933 6s. Sd. .... ^1433 6 8 W With this document was found another — unquestionably the most interesting paper ever published relating to Shakspere : it is a letter from Lord Southampton to Lord Ellesmere, the Lord Chancellor ; and it contains the following passage : — "These bearers are two of the chief of the company ; one of them by name Rich- ard Burbidge, who humbly sueth for your Lordship's kind help, for that he is a man famous as our English Roscius, one who fitteth £ the action to the word and the word to the action' most admirably. By the exercise of his quality, industry, and good behaviour, he hath become possessed of the Blackfriars playhouse, which hath been employed for plays since it was built by his father, now near fifty years ago. The other is a man no whit less deserving favour, and my especial friend, till of late an actor oi good account in the company, now a sharer in the same, and writer of some of our best English plays, which, as your Lordship knoweth, were most singularly liked of Queen Elizabeth, when the company was called upon to perform before her Majesty at court, at Christmas and Shrovetide. His most gracious Majesty King James also, since his coming to the crown, hath ex- tended his royal favour to the company in divers ways and at sundry times. This " THE MAN FOR ALL TIME. 1 other hath to name William Shakespeare, and they are both of one county, and indeed almost of one town : both are right famous in their qualities, though it longeth not to your Lordship's gravity and wisdom to re- sort unto the places where they are wont to delight the public ear. Their trust and suit now is, not to be molested in their way of life whereby they maintain them- selves and their wives and families (being both married and of good reputation), as well as the widows and orphans of some of their dead fellows." We may now suppose that the great poet, thus honoured and esteemed, had retired to Stratford, retaining a property in the theatre — regularly writing for it. There is an opinion that he ceased to act after 1603. In that year his name is found amongst the performers of one of Ben Jonson's plays- But the years from 1605 to his death, in the April of 1616, were not idly spent. He was a practical farmer, we have little doubt. In 1604 he bought a moiety of the tithes of Stratford, which he would then probably collect in kind. He occupied the best house of the place ; he had there his " curious knotted garden " to amuse him ; and his orchard had many a pippin of his " own grafting." James I. recommended the cultivation of mulberry trees in Eng- land; and who has not heard of Shak- spere's mulberry tree ? Vulgar tradition at this time represents him as writing a bitter epitaph upon his friend and neighbour John Combe, as he had satirized Sir Thomas Lucy. He was doing, we think, something better. To the first half of the period between 1604 and his death may be assigned " Macbeth/' " Cymbeline," " The Winter's Tale," and " The Tempest." The very recital of the names of these glorious works, associated as they are with that quiet country town, its beautiful Avon, its meadows, and its woodlands, is enough to make Stratford a name dear and vener- able in every age. The register of marriages at Stratford- upon-Avon for the year 1607 contains the entry of the marriage of John Hall, gentle- man, and Susanna Shakspere, on the 5th June. Susanna, the eldest daughter of William Shakspere, was now twenty-four years of age. John Hall, gentleman, a physician settled at Stratford, was in his thirty-second year. This appears in every respect to have been a propitious alliance ; Shakspere received into his family a man of learning and talent. The season at which the marriage of Shakspere's elder daughter took place would appear to give some corroboration to the belief that, at this period, he had wholly ceased to be an actor. It is not likely that an event to him so deeply interesting would have taken place during his absence from Stratford. It was the season of perform- ances at the Globe. It is at this period that we can fix the date of " Lear." That wonderful tragedy was first published in [608 ; and the title-page recites that "It was' plaid before the King's Majesty at White-Hall, uppon S. Stephen's Night ; in Christmas Hollidaies." This most extra- ordinary production might well have been the firstfruits of a period of comparative leisure ; when the creative faculty was wholly untrammelled by petty cares, and the judgment might be employed in work- ing again and again upon the first concep- tions, so as to produce such a masterpiece of consummate art without after-labour. The next season of repose gave birth to an effort of genius wholly different in character; but almost as wonderful in its profound sagacity and knowledge of the world as " Lear " is unequalled for its depth of individual passion. "Troilus and Cres- sida" was published in 1.600. The year 1608 brought its domestic joys and calamities to Shakspere. In the same font where he had been baptized, forty- three years before, was baptized, on the 21st of February, his grand-daughter, "Elizabeth, daughter of John Hall." In the same grave where his father was laid in 1601, was buried his mother, "Mary Shakspere, widow," on the 9th of Septem- ber, 1608. She was the youngest daughter of Robert Arden, who died in 1556. She 3 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. was probably, therefore, about seventy years of age when her sons followed her to the " house of all living." Every one agrees that during the last three or four years of his life Shakspere ceased to write. Yet we venture to think that every one is in error. The opinion is founded upon a belief that he only finally left London towards the close of 1613. It is evident, from his purchase of a large house at Stratford, his constant acquisition of landed property there, his active engage- ments in the business of agriculture, the interest which he took in matters connected with his property in which his neighbours had a common interest, that he must have partially left London before this period. But his biographers, having fixed a period for the termination of his connection with the active business of the theatre, assume that he became wholly unemployed ; that he gave himself up, as Rowe has described, to " ease, retirement, and the conversation of his friends." His income was enough, they saj', to dispense with labour ; and therefore he did not labour. But when the THE BEDROOM. days of leisure arrived, is it reasonable to believe that the mere habit of his life would not assert its ordinary control ; that the greatest of intellects would suddenly sink to the condition of an everyday man — cherishing no high plans for the future, looking back with no desire to equal and excel the work of the past ? At the period of life when Chaucer began to write the "Canterbury Tales," Shakspere, according to his biographers, was suddenly and utterly to cease to write. If those individuals who reason thus could present a satisfactory record of the dates of all Shakspere's works, and especially of his later works, we should still cling to the belief that some fruits of the last years of his literary industry had apparently wholly perished. It is unnecessary, as it appears to us, to adopt any such theory. Without the means of fixing the precise date of many particu- lar dramas, we have indisputable traces, up to this period, of the appearance of at least five-sixths of all Shakspere's undoubted works. Are there any dramas whose in- dividual appearance is not accounted for by those who have attempted to fix the exact chronology of other plays ? There are such dramas, and they form a class " THE MAN FOR ALL TIME." 9 They are the three great Roman plays of "Coriolanus," "Julius Cassar," and "Antony and Cleopatra." The happy quiet of Shakspere's retreat was not wholly undisturbed by calamity, domestic and public. His brother Richard, who was ten years his junior, was buried at Stratford on the 4th of February, 16 13. Of his father's family his sister Joan, who had married Mr. William Hart of Stratford, was probably the only other left. There is no record of the death of his brother Gilbert; but as he is not mentioned in the will of William, in all likelihood he died before Shakspere's. They were a short-lived race. His sister, indeed, survived him thirty years. The family at New Place, at this period, would be composed therefore of his wife only, and his unmarried daughter Judith ; unless his elder daughter and his son-in-law formed a part of the same house- hold, with their only child Elizabeth, who was born in 1608. The public calamity to which we have alluded was a great fire, which broke out at Stratford on the 9th of July, 16 1 4. That Shakspere assisted with all the energy of his character in alleviating the miseries of this calamity, and in the him. Oldys, in his manuscript notes upon Langbaine, has a story of " One of Shak- spere's younger brothers, who lived to a good old age, even some years, as I com- pute, after the restoration of King Charles II." Gilbert was born in 1566 ; so that if he had lived some years after the restoration of Charles II., it is not surprising that " his memory was weakened," as Oldys reports, and that he could give " the most noted actors" but "little satisfaction in their endeavours to learn something from him of his brother." The story of Oldys is clearly apocryphal, as far as regards any brother of restoration of his town, we cannot doubt. In the same year we find him taking some interest in the project of an inclosure of the common-fields of Stratford. The inclosure would probably have improved his property, and especially have increased the value of the tithes, of the moiety of which he held a lease. The Corporation of Stratford were opposed to the inclosure. They held that it would be injurious to the poorer inhabit- ants, who were then deeply suffering from the desolation of the fire ; and they appear to have been solicitous that Shakspere should take the same view of the matter as JOHN SHAKSPERE'S HOUSE. FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. I 5 themselves. His friend William Combe, then high sheriff of the county, was a principal person engaged in forwarding the inclosure. The Corporation sent their common clerk, Thomas Greene, to London, to oppose the project ; and a memorandum in his handwriting, which still remains, exhibits the business-like manner in which Shakspere informed himself of the details of the plan. The younger daughter of Shakspere was married on the ioth of February, 1 6 16, to Thomas Quiney, as the register of Strat- ford shows. Thomas Quiney was the son of Richard Quiney of Stratford, whom we have seen in 1598 soliciting the kind offices of his loving countryman Shakspere. Thomas, who was born in T588, was probably a well educated man. The last will of Shakspere would appear to have been prepared in some degree with reference to this marriage. It is dated the 25th of March, 1616; but the word " Jan- uarii " seems to have been first written and afterwards struck out, u Martii " having been written above it. It is not unlikely, and indeed it appears most probable, that the document was prepared before the marriage of Judith ; for the elder daughter is mentioned as Susanna Hall, — the younger simply as Judith. To her, one hundred pounds is bequeathed, and fifty pounds conditionally. The life interest of a further sum of one hundred and fifty pounds is also bequeathed to her, with remainder to her children ; but if she died without issue within three years after the date of the will, the hundred and fifty pounds was to be otherwise appropriated. We pass over the various legacies to relations and friends, to come to the bequest of the great bulk of the property. All the real estate is devised to his daughter Susanna Hall, for and during the term of her natural life. It is then entailed upon her first son and his heirs male ; and, in default of such issue, to her second son and his heirs male ; and so on : in default of such issue, to his grand-daughter Elizabeth Hall (called in the language of the time his '* niece ") : and, in default of such issue, to his daughter Judith and her heirs male. By this strict entailment it was manifestly the object of Shakspere to found a family. Like many other such purposes of short-sighted humanity, the object was not accomplished. His elder daughter had no issue but Elizabeth, and she died childless. The heirs male of Judith died before her. The estates were scattered after the second generation ; and the descendants of his sister were the only transmitters to posterity of his blood and lineage. The wife of Shakspere was unquestion- ably provided for by the natural operation of the law of England. His estates, with the exception of a copyhold tenement, ex- pressly mentioned in his will, were freehold. His wife was entitled to dower. She was provided for amply by the clear and un- deniable operation of the English law. Of the houses and gardens which Shakspere inherited from his father, she was assured of the life interest of a third, should she survive her husband, the instant that old John Shakspere died. Of the capital messuage called New Place, the best house in Stratford, which Shakspere purchased in 1597, she was assured of the same life interest, from the moment of the convey- ance, provided it was a direct conveyance to her husband. That it was so conveyed we may infer from the terms of the con- veyance of the lands in Old Stratford, and other places, which were purchased by Shakspere in 1602, and were then con- veyed " to the onley proper use and behoofe of the saide William Shakspere, his heires and assign es for ever." Of a life interest in a third of these lands also she was assured. The tenement in Blackfriars, purchased in 1 6 14, was conveyed to Shakspere and three other persons ; and after his death was reconveyed by those persons to the uses of his will, " for and in performance of the confidence and trust in them reposed by William Shakspere deceased." In this estate, certainly, the widow of our poet had not dower. It has been remarked to us that even the express mention of the second- THE MAN FOR ALL TIME." best bed was anything but unkindness and insult ; that the best bed was in ail proba- bility an heirloom : it might have de- scended to Shakspere himself from his father as an heirloom, and, as such, was the property of his own heirs. The best bed was considered amongst the most im- portant of those chattels which went to their heir by custom with the house. The will of Shakspere thus commences: — " I, William Shakspere, of Stratford- upon-Avon, in the county of Warwick, gent., in perfect health and memory, (God be praised !) do make and ordain this my last will and testament." And yet within one month of this declaration Shakspere is no more : — ■ OBIT ANO. DOI. l6l6. jETAT 53. DIE 23. AP. Such is the inscription on his tomb. It is corroborated by the register of his burial : — "April 25. Will Shakspere, gent." Tradition says that he died of a fever con- tracted at Stratford. The fever that is too often the attendant upon a hot spring, when the low grounds upon a river bank have been recently inundated, is a fever that the good people of Stratford did not well under- stand at that day. Whatever was the im- mediate cause of his last illness, we may well believe that the closing scene was full of tranquillity and hope ; and that he who had sought, perhaps more than any man, to look beyond the material and finite things of the world, should rest at the last in the u peace which passeth all understand- ing," in that assured belief which the opening of his will has expressed with far more than formal solemnity : — " I com- mend my soul into the hands of God, my Creator, hoping, and assuredly believing, through the only merits of Jesus Christ, my Saviour, to be made partaker of life everlasting." 12 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. f PCHAMYL, THE CIF(CA££IA^ CHIEF. he mountain-chief whose exploits for so many years won the admiration of Europe, Schamyl, the warrior-prophet of the Cau- casus, was born towards the end of the last century, at a town called Himri, situated in one of the wildest parts of Circassia. He was early educated in the two chief departments of Oriental knowledge — religion and arms ; and many traits of truly Spartan courage are related of him. On one occasion, while a mere child, he was attacked and wounded by some comrades ; but, although his life was endangered, he continued to conceal what had happened, because he would not consent to admit that he had been vanquished even by numbers. For a long time Schamyl occupied a comparatively subordinate position as one of the Murides, or body-guards of Hamsad Bey, the Imam. It was only after the as- sassination of that chief, in one of the civil contests which weakened Circassia and favoured the advance of Russia, that the celebrated warrior made himself known. He was elected to succeed the fallen Imam by general acclamation, and having ruth- lessly avenged the crime that had been com- mitted, began that career which obtained for him a world-wide renown. The means by which he obtained his popularity are not well known. As yet, we are in possession only of fragments of Circassian history. But it appears certain that Schamyl, though stained by many grievous faults, possessed noble qualities, and was eminently fitted to rule over a barbarous people. His personal appearance is thus de- scribed. " He is of middle height, with grey eyes and red hair. His complexion is white, and as delicate as that of the Circassian beauties who are sometimes exposed for sale in the private bazaars of Constanti- nople. Perhaps the contrast of his femi- nine appearance with his extraordinary courage and impassibility in the presence of danger may have strongly contributed to excite admiration among his rude and swarthy countrymen. All reports speak of him as gentle even when ordering acts ot the greatest cruelty. He is sober in food ; and scrupulously obeys the injunction ot the Prophet, to drink no wine — allowing his followers, however, full liberty to intoxi- cate themselves. A few hours of sleep suffice for him ; and whilst his full-fed body- guard snore around, he rises, and somewhat ostentatiously employs himself in reading and prayer. A poet of Daghestan has said that ' he has lightning in his eyes and flowers on his lips ' ; for, like all popular leaders, he has the gift of eloquence, and gains his victories as much by oratory as generalship. All his proclamations are in gorgeous language ; and it is said that no- thing can equal the effect of the short ora- tions he delivers to his troops before he leads them on to victory." The first residence of Schamyl, after he was raised to supreme rank, was Achulgo, where he built, in the centre of the fortress, a little house in the European style, with the assistance of Russian prisoners and deserters. Here he lived in the humblest possible style, depending even for daily bread on the spontaneous offerings of his people. The fortress is built of the rudest rocks; and in 1839 was surrounded by defences of earth, with passages, covered ways, and moats, according to the best rules of science. The solid wooden towers, useless against artillery, had been removed, so that when General Grabbe appeared before it, after having taken Arquani and forced the passage of the Koi-sou, he at once understood the necessity of a regular FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. siege. His first impulse, indeed, was to retreat ; but remembering the orders of the emperor, hoping too to terminate the war with glory by the capture of Schamyl, he determined on an attack. The difficulties to be overcome were immense ; but the troops under his command were numerous, and accustomed to passive obedience. The mountaineers by degrees found their com- munications cut off. They were completely surrounded, and hunger and thirst began to tell upon them with more fatal effect even than the dreaded cannon of their enemies. It was on the 23rd of August, 1839, that, the advanced ramparts having been taken, the Russian general ordered his men to storm the citadel. The Circassians now displayed almost supernatural courage. Even the women took part in the struggle, sword and pistol in hand. u Never," says a Russian eye-witness, " have I beheld so horrible a spectacle. We swam in blood. We climbed over barricades of men. The death-rattle was our martial music. I was clambering at the head of my battalion, already decimated, up a steep ascent , the cannon had ceased to roar, the wind blew away the sombre curtain of smoke : we sud- denly beheld, on a platform overhanging an abyss, a number of Circassian women. They knew that victory had declared against them, but firmly resolved to perish rather than fall into the hands of the Russians. They rolled enormous blocks of stone from the summit of the precipice. A huge mass whirled past me, and carried away several of my soldiers. I thought of the Eume- nides. In the heat of the conflict they had thrown away their tunics ; and their hair streamed wildly over their bare shoulders. I saw a young woman sitting down quietly with her infant in her arms ; suddenly, as we approached, she arose, dashed her infant's head against a rock, and then leaped with it into the abyss below. The others fol- lowed one by one, and all were dashed to pieces." The great object of this sanguinary attack was to take Schamyl ; but the pro- phet was found neither among the dead nor among the wounded. A whisper wenf abroad that he was concealed in a cave, and every rock was searched without suc- cess. Towards midnight, some sentinels heard a noise. A man descended a preci- pice by means of a cord. When down, he examined the ground, gave a signal, and immediately came a second, and then a third wrapped in a white cloak, such as Schamyl was accustomed to wear. The Russians now disclosed themselves, and took all three prisoners. But their joy threw them off their guard ; and the real Schamyl — for he in the white cloak was only a decoy— darted by, leaped into the Koi'-sou, and swam across untouched by the shower of balls sent after him. This won- derful escape of course added to the pro- phet's reputation; and it is not surprising that his people believe him to be the espe- cial favourite of Allah. The lovers of the marvellous pretend that on one occasion Schamyl allowed himself to be taken pri- soner under another name, was conducted to St. Petersburg, obtained the rank of colonel in the army, and having learned the art of war and the secrets of the enemy, escaped back to his own country. This extraordinary man, however, had no need of fiction to exalt his merits as a patriot chief. Having been driven out of Achulgo, Schamyl removed his residence to a place called Dargy Wedenno, situated in the midst of dense forests and frightful preci- pices. It is from this place that he has since, with various success, directed the operations of the war, issuing forth at criti- cal periods, and exciting his people by his presence, but taking care not needlessly to expose his person or to diminish the prestige of his name by too frequent appearances. Sometimes he has been reduced almost to the last extremity of despair. The Russian general, Woronzoff, by far the most formid- able enemy ever sent against Circassia, cut roads through the country ; and, instead of making periodical attacks on a grand scale, endeavoured to weary out the mountaineers by constantly marching to and fro in every SCHAMYL, THE CIRCASSIAN CHIEF. direction. Many tribes were entirely sur- rounded, and compelled to submit ; and at length the Tchetches found themselves unable to maintain their independence. They resolved, therefore, to send ambassa- dors to the stern Schamyl, asking him either to come and assist them, which they knew he could not, or to allow them to submit to Russia. No one, however, would venture volunta- rily to carry such a message ; and four men were chosen by lot. They set out for Dargy, and determined by means of gold to buy the intercession of the mother of Schamyl, that he should at least hear what they had to say, and accept or refuse. They easily suc- ceeded in inducing the poor old woman to speak to her son. What passed at the interview was kept a secret ; but horrible and sanguinary re- sults were feared, for the prophet immedi- ately afterwards retired to the mosque to fast and to pray. He remained there until late next morning ; and then appearing amidst a general assembly which he had ordered to be called together, announced, with many circumlocutions, that the Tche- tches had formed the infamous project of submitting to the Giaours ; that they had sent messengers to plead their excuse ; that these messengers had suborned a woman to make him the disgraceful communication ; that he had asked counsel of the Prophet ; and that the Prophet had ordered him, from Allah, to give a hundred lashes with a whip to the woman who had been suborned. " That woman," he added in a terrific voice, u is my mother ! ,; There was a thrill of expectant horror in the assembly, and the mother of Schamyl, with a shriek, fell upon the ground. The stern chieftain continued : " But what was my amazement when I heard this order ! I wept bitter tears. Moham- med then obtained from Allah that I might substitute myself for the sinner. I am ready ! " So saying, Schamyl descended from his position, and ordered two of his guards to perform the office of executioner upon him. They refused at first, but were compelled to obey. At the fifth blow, the blood started ; but the people now rushed forward, snatched the whips from the hands of the men, and insisted that so painful a scene should not continue. The Tchetche ambassadors now expected that their time was come ; but to their surprise, and that of every one, Schamyl pardoned them, and said, "Go back to your cowardly countrymen and tell them what you have seen ! " It would be impossible, within any rea- sonable space, to give an outline of the various operations which Schamyl directed against the Russians. Indeed, accurate details are not known ; and it is to be feared that tradition alone will hand them down to posterity. But it is not only as a warrior and enthusiast that Schamyl was distinguished ; he was remarkable also as a legislator. By his influence, the people of Daghestan, previously divided into rival sects and tribes, were melted down into a mass almost homogeneous ; and he estab- lished many useful institutions. He parti- tioned the country into twenty provinces, each under its na'ib, or governor. Four of them were invested with absolute authority ; the others were obliged to give periodical reports of their actions. Each na'ib was obliged to raise three hundred horsemen, one from every ten families under his jurisdiction. Every man, however, from fifteen to fifty, was, properly speaking, a soldier, ready to act on any great emergency. Schamyl himself had a body-guard of iooo men, kept under rules of monastic severity. By their means he restrained the insubordination of such amongst his people as occasionally grew impatient of his iron yoke. i6 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. THE LONQE£T TUNNEL IJS THE WORLD he great St. Gothard tunnel is now completed. At ten o'clock, on the morning of February the 29th, 1880, the piercing of the St. Gothard Tunnel was accomplished by one last blast, the two gal- leries which have been ap- proaching each other from either end were thrown into one long tunnel, and the opposite gangs of workmen rushed into each other's arms and exchanged congratu- lations on the successful accomplishment of their task. The first man who actually succeeded in getting through the tunnel was M. Bossi, the manager of the works, but even he had been forestalled by the portrait of the late M. Favre, the contractor, which the workman had pushed through as soon as the aperture had reached a width of three inches. The tunnel is the longest in the world — nine and a quarter miles, and has only taken seven years and five months in pierc- ing, — less than half the time occupied in piercing the Mont Cenis tunnel. This rapidity of execution is mainly due to the efficiency of the air compressors, invented by Professor Colladon of Geneva, the compressed air serving as a motive power for both the perforators which bore the rock and the locomotives which draw the wagons, and also as a means of ventilation. Notwithstanding a constant supply of air, however, the atmosphere in the tunnel has been terribly foul and hot. Out of a stud of forty horses, ten have died on an average every month ; while the men, who worked eight hours a day — their daily wage being five shillings — were compelled to take fre- quent holidays to recruit their strength. Great care also had to be exercised re- specting visitors, as a walk of several miles in the stifling heat might easily have proved fatal to people with weak heart action. The loss of life from premature explosions has been considerable, several having been killed. Its architect, M. Favre, will not have lived to see the work which he undertook j but the contract which he signed will never- theless have been executed within good time, in despite of enormous difficulties. Few people have any exact idea of the hardships of tunnelling. In the present instance it means boring through nine miles and a quarter of solid rock, from a small place called Geschenen, or Goschenen, at the mouth of a wild and picturesque little river, the Reuss, to another small place called Airolo, on the Ticino, which is the first village where Italian is spoken as you come out of Switzerland. The borings were commenced in 1872, with machinery worked by compressed air, and operations were carried on from both ends at once — a process which naturally de- mands that the plans of the engineers shall have been drawn with faultless minuteness. A deviation of one inch in the line within the first mile would have brought the work- men very far wide of their mark before the end of the thirty-sixth furlong was reached. As it is, the boring has been so correctly performed that the workmen from Airola were able to shake hands through the open- ing with those of Geschenen. It seems that these unfortunates have been toiling in a temperature scarcely lower than that in a hothouse, for, though the compressed- air machines are ingeniously contrived to furnish ventilation, it has been found almost impossible to carry currents of cool air down a shaft over four miles long. Under the circumstances, the work which the honest miners have done has been truly heroic ; and nobody grudged them hearty congratulations when they finished their piercing and established a regular grateful draught of air, which enabled them to carry on the remainder of their work under plea- santer conditions. The cost of excavating and tunnelling THE LONGEST TUNNEL IN THE WORLD. »7 over the nine and a quarter miles was set down in M. Favre's contract at two millions sterling, which may give one some idea of what the submarine tunnel between Bou- logne and Dover will cost, should it ever be attempted. Amateurs of speed in travelling will look upon the completion of the St. Gothard tunnel as an unmitigated VAL DI TICINO, NEAR AIROLO, THE SOUTH ENTRANCE TO THE TUNNEL. boon. Going from Bale to Milan they will be spared the jolt by diligence or by sleigh, according to season, between Bellinzona and Lugano, and will have the satisfaction of passing in the dark through one of the grandest tracts of scenery in Europe. They will do in twenty-five minutes what used not always to be accomplished in twenty- c i8 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. five hours, for there were times when blind- ing snowstorms brok-0 suddenly over that steep and treacherous St. Gothard Pass, making Travellers nght glad to reach the Monte Rosa hotel at the top, or the Hos- pice, where the benevolence of the Canton of Ticino has provided beds for fifteen poor travellers. Often wayfarers have lost their way in the snow, and have had to huddle helpless by the roadside, waiting to hear the tinkling of the bells round the necks of the Newfoundland dogs which the monks of the Hospice always sent out in quest of strangers when the weather was bad. What music so joyous as that of these bells in the perishing winter cold, unless it were the bark of the good dogs themselves as they sniffed the presence of the stranger, and ran with unerring accuracy to extricate him from his scrape ! Grateful tourists endowed with worldly means were often anxious to buy their four-footed preservers, and were allowed to do so on a payment of about ^15 ; o? they could have a puppy for It was safer to buy a puppy, for the larger dogs, accustomed to the keenness of the mountain air, never throve in other climes ; and even the pups wer~ apt to grow con- sumptive after they had been away for a few months from their snows. A year or two ago an Irish gentleman who had been saved from certain death by a St. Gothard dog bought him and took him to Dublin. The poor beast became attached to his master, but soon pined and wasted. His master, after trying every remedy that could restore him to health, at last had the good sense to decide that the dog ought to be taken back to his birthplace, and he undertook the journey to St. Gothard on purpose. The parting from the faithful, shaggy creature must have been painful, but the dog has since revived and is doing well in his business. Recollections like these — memories of dangers overcome and of pleasant nights spent on the mountain albergi — endear the St. Gothard road to travellers who are fond ot meeting adventures when they journey. At the Monte Rosa hotel, or at the Albergo del San Gothardo facing it, one was sure to get a comfortable bed in a well-warmed room, a substantial dinner, and sometimes cheerful company. The visitors' books in these two hostelries bear ample evidence that joviality is rather the rule than the exception among travellers, for one can scarcely read a grumble, whereas there are pages upon pages devoted to recording the impressions of tourists who have been de- lighted with everything they saw and heard, from the misty outlines of the " always in- visible " St. Gothard to the patter of the large-eyed Italian serving wenches who bring in the tureens of steaming macaroni soup, flavoured with Parmesan cheese. The familiar names of Albert Smith, Thackeray, Leman Blanchard, Charles Kingsley, and Robert Browning may be read among the signatures on these scrap-books, mingling with those of Alexandre Dumas, The'ophile Gautier, and George Sand. The French, however, indulge in a lighter style of con- tribution than the English. While the latter rhapsodise over the scenery, or throw out practical hints about the precautions which travellers should take to guard against the imposture of guides and diligence conduc- tors, the former criticise the culinary de- partment, and deliver opinions about the wines they have drunk. The two nations only agree in remarking that when the wind blows on the St. Gothard road at night it makes a noise like the howling of a legion of imps, and effectually scares sleep away. This St. Gothard wind, by the bye, is called by the natives at the Swiss end of the road Hut Schelm, or hat-rogue, because of its playful propensity to whisk off the hats of travellers and fling them into some abyss or into the rumbling, foaming waters of the Reuss. Many a comfortable wide-awake, the pride and solace of its owner, has been disposed of in this way, without a warning whiff to announce that the boisterous wind was coming ; therefore experienced tourists used to make their head-dresses fast with guards like small cables, and, what is more, they took care in THE LONGEST TUNNEL IN TILE WORLD. *9 walking to hug the cliff side of the road, so as not to run the risk of being caught amidships themselves by the rough tor- i.ado, which was often strong enough to lift a lusty man clean off his legs. As everybody knows, the St. Gothard road used to be until the beginning of this century a mere bridle path. It had been of old much frequented by travellers — pilgrims going to Italy on foot, or merchan- disers faring with pack mules— but it ceased to be so after the construction of the fine roads over the Simplon, the Spliigen, and the Bernardino. In 1820 the Governments of the Cantons of Uri and Ticino under- took the expense of cutting the present road, which is nineteen feet wide all the way through, and the work was finished to the general satisfaction about twelve years later. Baedeker's " Guide " justly says of it that in convenience and utility it was second to none of the Alpine routes, while in magnificence of scenery it is superior to all others, especially on the south side. The St. Gothard Pass is generally practicable for carriages during four or five months from the beginning of June ; whilst in winter travellers can be conveyed over in one-horse sleighs, except when the snow- falls have been too heavy. At some points avalanches are to be dreaded, notably in the gorges just beyond Amsteg, below which the impetuous Reuss rushes in a series of noisy waterfalls, and again in the Schollenen beyond the Sixth Bridge, where one of the most dangerous spots is pro- tected by a gallery sixty yards in length. The Sixth Bridge just mentioned stands just at the north side of the new St. Gothard tunnel; it stretches over the Reuss, like most of the others, for the road winds and rewinds in spirals ; the Seventh Bridge, a little beyond it, is called Sprengbriicke ; and then we come to the famous Teufels- briicke, or Devil's Bridge, said to have been constructed by an architect who had made a compact with Beelzebub. As legends of this sort are common to most mountainous countries, one need not inquire whether it is true that at this particular place (three miles and a half from Geschenen) the devil was or was not cheated of his dues by the archi- tect driving a dog with a kettle to his tail over the bridge when it was inaugurated. Enough that on the Devil's Bridge, when the weather is fine, a scene most beautiful in its wild desolation is to be obtained. It is not always bad weather on the St. Gothard. When the snows have melted and the winter winds ceased blowing, the sun often shines out for days and days together, tinting all the mountain crests with pink, and throwing broad streaks of orange light into those craggy recesses which from November to May look so black. At such times, standing on the Teufelsbriicke and listening to the cascade of the Reuss, which dashes its waters with a noise of thunder to a depth of one hun- dred feet below, the traveller, soused with spray (unless he have a waterproof), may watch the old and broken Devil's Bridge twenty feet below, where a savage battle was fought between the Austrians and French in August, 1779. Every guide has the story of this Homeric encounter pat on the end of his tongue. The Austrians had taken up a strong position on the bridge, but, being unable to bear up against the furia franccse, they blew up the side arch ; in consequence of which hundreds of wretched Frenchmen were precipitated like so many frogs into the abyss underneath. Communications were thus cut off ; but the surviving French, nothing daunted, actually scaled the right bank of the Reuss — an awful ascent — and drove the Austrians back. Such tales of human daring make the pulses thrill; but, may be, the tourist who eyes the fearful steeps, and measures the distance between the now moss-grown disused bridge and the rushing waters where so many brave fellows found a grave, will turn more gladly to the scene of human enterprise displayed a few miles farther off, where the tunnel borings were carried on day and night with a stolid and magnificent pa- tience. Tunnelling is not quite a new art, for just beyond the Teufelsbriicke we have a tunnel of seventy yards, pierced through BO FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. the rock in 1707. It was a great feat with such instruments as were at the disposal of engineers then ; but it must not blind us to the altogether superior merit of such works as those of M. Favre. There may have been engineers of yore, but those of our time are Goliaths beside them. The last period of the work was naturally one of no little excitement. The first in- timation the workmen on the Geschenen side had of the final stage was the fact that pieces of rock fell down without any assistance on their part. Then they listened, and heard the sound of operations on the Airolo side. Terrified lest an explosion should take place, they retreated as fast as possible to a distance. On re-approaching the head of the gallery they saw the Airolo borer and touched it, but it was heated to such a degree that they burned their hands. After the news had been spread on the Saturday night no one thought of going to sleep. At any moment now the culmina- tion of eight years' labour might be announced. At seven o'clock in the morn- ing a train started from each end of the tunnel, carrying the officials and their in- vited guests. The machines were working on both sides, and when the guests arrived near the middle of the tunnel there was only one-third of a metre of rock dividing them and remaining to be removed before they could meet. As it was from the Airolo side that the borer had penetrated through, it was just that the Airolo men should have the honour of completing the last portion of the work. Preparations were made accord- ingly, and at a quarter-past eleven the final blasting operations were performed, and after eight separate detonations, the last remnants of the wall of rock dividing the two portions of the tunnel were blown away, and with loud cheers the workmen and guests who had been waiting on either side rushed forward and embraced each other. The St. Gothard tunnel is a mile and two-thirds longer than that of the Mont Cenis, and consequently the longest tunnel ever made. From its central point (3,779 feet above the sea level) there is a fall towards Geschenen of 6 per 1,000 feet, and towards Airolo of 1 per 1,000 feet. Altogether it is a stupendous work, and its utility to the commercial and travelling classes will be immense. These are days when time is of value. The shortening of a journey by some hours is a great con- sideration, and affects for the better in a multitude of ways the nations which are thereby brought into closer contact. As for the travellers who love scenery, they may be compensated for the loss of it on the St. Gothard by the reflection that it is pleasant after all to doze comfortably whilst one glides through a tunnel secure from avalanches, snowstorms, and hutsctielms. Fine scenery may still be inspected at leisure in almost any corner of Switzerland; and hardy pedestrians will still clamber up the old St. Gothard road to Monte Rosa for amusement, though no longer obliged to do so from necessity. It is to be hoped that the Cantons of Uri and Ticino will not allow the grand route or any one of its eight bridges to fall into decay. It was a public spirited thing which they did when they cut the road sixty years ago ; and it will be wise of them to remember now that facilities of communica- tion promote travelling in all directions, so that their famous pass may not become so deserted as they think, after all. Of course the owners of the diligences and sleighs are going to be great losers, but these worthies have so long been accustomed to fleece strangers that one need not pity them over- much. Their extortions used to be one of the principal elements of worry in a journey up the St. Gothard road. The vetturini on the Italian side were worse to deal with than those on the Swiss, for they had a shameless trick of thrusting under your nose a printed tariff which was all false. Many an exasper- ated paterfamilias has gnashed his teeth and shaken his fists in the faces of the rascally crew of postilions and ostlers, whose charges were enough to make even a bridegroom on his honeymoon tour wince. And so, good luck to the tunnel, and bon voyage to those who will travel therein ! SOME EARLY ADVENTURERS. £OME EARLY ADVENTURER^. here was bustle and excitement on both sides of the Thames on the ioth of May, 1553, for on that day three ships, commanded by some whose names figure honourably on the roll of Eng- land's naval worthies, dropped down the river from RatclirTe to Greenwich. Whither were they bound? It could be no ordinary departure that at- tracted so much attention, made the com- mon people break out into cheers, and drew the court to the windows of the palace to watch the passing vessels. Nor was it. The day, indeed, was a memorable one to many on board. They had — as old Hakluyt tells us in his historical narratives, related with all the vigorous simplicity of the old story-tellers — they had " saluted their acquaintance, one his wife, another his children, another his kinsfolk, and another his friends, dearer than his kins- folk ; " and now, " being all apparelled in watchet, or sky-coloured cloth, they rowed amain, and made way with diligence. And being come near to Greenwich, where the court then lay, presently upon the news thereof, the courtiers came running out, and the common people flocked together, stand- ing very thick upon the shore : the privy council, they looked out at the windows of the court, and the rest ran up to the tops of the towers. The ships hereupon dis- charged their ordnance, and shot off their pieces after the manner of war, and of the sea, insomuch that the tops of the hills sounded therewith, the valleys and the waters gave an echo, and the mariners, they shouted in such sort that the sky rang again with the noise thereof. One stood on the poop of the ship, and by his gesture bade farewell to his friends in the best manner he could. Another walks upon the hatches, another climbs the shrouds, another stands upon the mainyard, and another in the top of the ship. To be short, it was a very triumph, after a sort, in all respects to the beholders." Such was a leave-taking in the days of Edward VI., when one half of the globe was a perfect mystery and marvel to the other, and people were ready to believe ii> giants, in men with eyes in their breast, in snakes with two heads, Sindbad's roc, or any other monstrosity. They thought it worth while, too, to institute a search from time to time for Prester John. No wonder that crowds ran to behold with their own eyes the daring seamen who were going into unknown regions, perhaps to see sights that would fill them with terror or admiration. The ships here mentioned, — of which the largest was not more than 160 tons, — com- prised the expedition commanded by Sir Hugh Willoughby, whose terrible fate throws a melancholy interest over the early history of northern discovery. He and his crew were the first victims of the grim Frost King, stricken down, as though to warn future explorers from his icy do- minions. The vessels were fitted out by " certain grave citizens of London," who, fearing the decay of trade, resolved to attempt a pas- sage to China — or Cathay, as it was then called — by the north-east, and so check- mate the Spaniards and Portuguese, who were at that time pushing their discoveries in the west. They consulted the famous navigator Sebastian Cabot, who drew up a set of advices and instructions, which are as remarkable for their large and liberal views as regards the general conduct of the enterprise as for shrewd practical common sense in minor particulars. Under such auspices, the ships were " prepared and furnished out, for the search and discoverie 1 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. of the northerne part of the world, to open a way and passage to our men for travaile to newe and unknowen kingdomes." The " grave citizens " had vitality enough to perpetuate themselves, and still exist as the " Muscovy Company." During the warm months that followed their departure the adventurers made good progress. Sir Hugh Willoughby got so far to the north that he struck the western coast of Nova Zembla, and sailed along it for some distance. To him, indeed, be- longs the honour of the discovery of that "desolate" land, for he was the first Englishman, if not the first of any civilized nation, to visit its shores. A gale, which broke out shortly afterwards, separated the ships; in September, Sir Hugh, with two out of the three, took refuge in the mouth of the Warsina, on the coast of Lapland, where he and his crews, seventy persons in all, perished from cold and hunger before the winter was over. Remembering the names of his vessels, — Bona Esperanza and Bona Confidential — there seems a cruel mockery in his fate. The third ship, the Edward Bonaventnra, commanded by Richard Chancellor, had better fortune. After the gale, he sailed to Wardhuus, in Norway, — the appointed ren- dezvous, — and waited seven days, when, his consorts not arriving, he determined to prosecute the voyage alone. His project was, however, opposed by "certain Scot- tishmen " whom he fell in with, and who used every argument they could think of to dissuade him. Only think of Scotchmen being found in that remote place at such an early period ! How did they get there ? But Chancellor was not to be dissuaded : "A man of valour," he said, "could not commit a more dishonourable part than for feare of danger to avoyde and shun great attempts, ... remaining steadfast and immutable in his first resolution, determin- ing either to bring that to pass which was intended, or to die the death." Chancellor's courage was shared by his crew : they willingly placed themselves under his guidance whithersoever he should lead, knowing "his good-will and love to- wards them " ; and so they put to sea. " Now," says the old chronicler, " they held on their course towards that unknown part of the world, and sailed so far that they came at last to the place where they found no night at all, but a continual light and brightness of the sun shining clearly upon the huge and mightie sea. And having the benefit of this perpetual light for certaine days, at the length it pleased God to bring them into a certaine great bay, which was of one hundred miles or thereabout over, whereinto they entered, and somewhat far within cast anchor ; and looking every way about them, it happened that they espied afar off a certaine fisher-boat, which Master Chancellor, accompanied with a few of his men, went towards to commune with the fishermen that were in it, and to know of them what country it was, and what people, and of what manner of living they were. But they, being amazed with the strange greatness of his ship, began presently to avoyde and to flee ; but he, still following, at last overtook them, and being come to them, they (being in great fear, as men half dead) prostrated themselves before him, offering to kiss his feet. But he, according to his great and singular courtesie, looked pleasantly upon them, comforting them by signs and gestures, refusing those duties and reverences of theirs, and taking them up in all loving sort from the ground. And it is strange to consider how much favour afterwards in that place this humanitie ot his did purchase to himself; for they, being dismissed, spread by and by a report abroad of the arrival of a strange nation, of a sin- gular gentleness and courtesie ; whereupon the common people came together, offering to these new-come guests victuals freely, and not refusing to traffic with them, except they had been bound by a certain religious use and custom not to buy any foreign commodities without the knowledge and consent of the king." The " great bay " into which Chancellor sailed is now known as the White Sea, though for some time after its discovery it SOME EARLY AD VENTURERS. was called the bay of St. Nicholas. Here our countrymen soon learned that they were in " Russia, or Moscovie," of which land Ivan Vasilwitsch was emperor, or, as we now say, czar. The ship was anchored in the western mouth of the Dwina, and the governor of the place sent plentiful sup- plies of provisions on board, and showed much good-will to the strangers, but refused to trade with them until he knew the plea- sure of his sovereign. The news of their arrival, we are told, was " very welcome " to Ivan, " insomuch that voluntarily he invited them to come to his court," promising to defray the expenses of the journey, and gave full liberty to his subjects to trade with the foreigners. His messenger having by some mishap gone astray, Chancellor suspected the governor of making vain excuses for delay, and at last set off on the journey of 1,500 miles to Moscow, to visit the monarch whether or no. He had travelled some distance when he met the royal messenger, who had lost his way, and Ivan's letters at once removed all difficulties. So eager were the Musco- vites to obey their ruler's orders, that for all the rest of the journey " they began to quarrel, yea, and to fight also, in striving and contending which of them should put their post-horses to the sled." In conse- quence of which Chancellor and his com- panions arrived speedily in Moscow. A favourable reception awaited them ; and after ten or twelve days spent in rest and in viewing the city, they had audience of the emperor. " Being come into the chamber of presence," says the narrator of the interview, " our men began to wonder at the majesty of the emperor ; his seat was aloft on a very royal throne, having on his head a diadem or crown of gold, apparelled with a robe all of goldsmith's work, and in his hand he held a sceptre, garnished and beset with precious stones ; and, besides all other notes and appearances of honour, there was a majesty in his countenance proportionable with the excellencie of his estate." The great officers of state stood round about, they and the whole apartment glittering with gold and jewels ; but Chan- cellor, "being therewithal nothingdismayed, saluted" and presented the letters from King Edward. These were vead ; and then, after some brief conversation, the Englishmen were invited to dine with his majesty, which they did two hours later, in the "golden court;" and saw such pro- digious numbers of gold and silver goblets, casks, dishes, and other vessels, and such a multitude of attendants, as filled them with amazement, and, doubtless, made them well content at being the first to open a trade with so rich a country. The result of the interview was that Ivan sent his visitors away with a letter in reply to those which he had received, declaring he had in all amity ordered that wherever Sir Hugh Willoughby and the missing crews might be found, every attention should be paid to them; that if an envoy were sent to treat on the matter, English " ships and vessels should have free mart, with all free liberties through my whole dominions, with all kinds of wares, to come and go at their pleasure, without any let, damage, or im- pediment." With this missive, which bore the great seal, Chancellor returned to Eng- land, and thus commenced the British trade with Russia. The " grave citizens " were not slow to follow up their advantage ; and while ships were sent out for the exchange of commo- dities, others were especially employed in further discoveries in the same region, for, above all, they hoped to find the passage to China. Succeeding explorers traced the extent of the White Sea ; and, sailing through the narrow strait which separates Waigats Island from the main, discovered the Sea of Kara, and made persevering efforts to reach the mouth of the Ob. To the English and the Dutch the Russians are more indebted for these early disco- veries than to themselves. For a century or two the White Sea was the only way by which they could communicate with th& rest of the world by water. FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH-EA£T PAps.AQE he Swedish navigator, about whom all the world is talking so pleasantly, is just forty-eight years old. His father was a well-known naturalist employed in a post of responsibility in the mines of Finland. His mo- ther, in many respects a remark- able woman, bore the respectable name of Hartmann. • He was the third of their seven children. He comes of a good stock, the founder of the family, a certain Lieu tenant Nordberg, or Nordenberg, having won distinction in the beginning of the seventeenth century. His grandson changed the name to Nordenskjold, which signifies in honest Swedish " Buckler of the North." To those who believe in the principle of heredity it may be interesting to learn that all the relatives of the Professor have been THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH-EAST PASSAGE. 25 men of mark. A Colonel Adolphe Nor- denskjold constructed a valuable museum of natural history on his estate at Frugor. His brother, Otto Magnus, was the first who introduced many-bladed saws into Finland, and materially improved the busi- ness of wood-cutting. Unfortunately for himself, however, this busy-minded, prac- tical man was also a philanthropist, and he got into a scrape both with the Swedish and Russian governments for riding his humanitarian hobby into the presence of the Empress Elizabeth. He expressed his wishes for universal peace among all Chris- tian nations, and consequently died excom- municated by the clergy of his native land. His fate, however, did not serve as a warn- ing to his kinsfolk, who seem always to have had a hankering for doughty deeds. Thus Augustus Nordenskjold, nephew of the peace-seeker, not content with having won reputation as a scientific chemist of great merit, associated himself with the cele- brated Bernard Wadstrom in his labours for the abolition of slavery, and died of wounds received from men of colour, while trying to form a colony of free negroes at Sierra Leone. The son of this good chemist, and brave though unsuccessful liberator, was Nils-Gustavus, a mineralogist of note, and father of the famous explorer of the northern seas, now before the public, Adolphus-Eric Nordenskjold, who was born on the 1 8th November, 1832. The navigator was educated as a child by his mother, who took great pains with him, and afterwards at Borgo, in an estab- lishment which joined the advantages of a school and a university. The pupils were allowed, however, more than enough liberty, and he did little good there, as he himself very frankly admits in a candid autobio- graphy which has been published. His parents seem to have been neither surprised nor vexed at the unsatisfactory reports of the college authorities of Borgo, but took the rather unusual course of giving both to him and a brother, who was his fellow student, unrestricted liberty of action. The two lads, thus left to their own devices, 1 paid five roubles a month for their modest board and lodging, pursuing such studies as pleased them, and the experiment was in every respect a happy one. Their self- respect was aroused, Adolphus-Eric devoted serious attention to his books, and the dons of the university had soon reason to form a better opinion of him. To M. Borenius and M. Ohman belongs the honour of having been his principal tutors. The first instructed him in the physical sciences, the second in geography, mathematics, and history. His master in Greek was the illustrious poet, Johan Ludvig Runeberg. Young Nordenskjold quitted the Univer- sity of Borgo abruptly for the singular reason that two of the students had been flogged — a proceeding which he seems to have thought derogatory to his dignity as one of their body; and in 1849 matriculated at Helsingfors, where he worked incessantly at natural history in its highest branches. During the vacations he accompanied his father, who was Chief of the Department of Mines in Finland, on some of his miner- alogical excursions, and became himself a collector of minerals. It was from his father, who had been a favourite pupil of Gahn and Berzelius, that he first learned the uses of the blowpipe, an instrument which he managed with unexampled skill. Thus taught by times, the lad was entrusted with the care of the rich collection of minerals in the Museum at Frugor, and acquired a habit of classification which subsequently rendered him great service. In 1853 he completed his university career with signal credit, being placed first in al) the examinations; and immediately after- wards he accompanied his father on a scientific journey to the Oural, where they inspected the copper mines of the Demi- doffs at Tagilisk. There he projected a prolonged voyage into Siberia, but the Crimean war put a stop to it. On returning home he continued to prosecute his studies with commendable diligence, and wrote some works on miner- alogy which are still regarded as valuable. I He was also appointed Director of the FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. i ~~ v " 1 Faculty of Mathematics and Physics, but he did not long enjoy the emoluments of those posts, being cashiered before six months were out for some political talk at a tavern dinner. The youthful professor declares he was not really in fault on this occasion, but with infinite good humour observes that he and his friends had so often mixed themselves up with the shady sides of politics on previous occasions that he cannot blame the Government for re- ceiving their explanations with considerable reserve. Indeed the affair, which happened in 1855, wears rather a comical aspect at this distance. The professor and his friends got merry, and took to toasts and mimicries. They were betrayed by a Finnish fiddler, who had helped to enliven their entertain- ment, and whose righteous soul was vexed, or perhaps frightened, at their manner of amusing themselves. The professor remarks with great truth, that if they had onlv hired a Russian musician, which they might easily have done, the party would have got off scot free, for he would not have been able to under- stand a word of their dis- course. Deprived of place and pay as he was by this stroke of ill-luck, 1 young Nor- |n denskjold life, lost no- " thing of his energy and !§P" courage. He pro- cured such money as he wanted, and set out for Berlin, passing through St. Petersburg quite unmo- lested, so that his recent escapade could not have been considered a grave one. In the Russian capital he had the good fortune to meet his father, who was returning from the Oural, and, after the first astonishment produced by the altered position of his affairs had been ex- plained away, he was furnished with letters to the brothers Rose, to Mitscherlich, and to others who ranked highly among the learned men of Prussia. He was every- where well received in honour of his father, and admitted daily to work in the famous laboratory of Rose. ^ » Nordenskjold, after thus laJ, profiting to the utmost by his stay in Berlin, returned Finland in the sum- mer of 1856, and all memory of his ^gjj opposition to the ^Jjj Governm en t had so com- pletely dis- THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH-EAST PASSAGE. *y his choice be- tween the Chair of Mineralogy and Geology or an appointment to proceed on a voyage of explora- tion with a handsome allowance for his expenses. He chose the latter, but while he was hesitating the philologist Almgrist was nominated in his stead. A promise was, however, made to him that he should be selected for a similar expedition in a few months. The plan which he then proposed to himself was to make a geological excur- sion into Siberia, and especially to push on to Kamtchatka ; but he was obliged to aban- don this project, the terms of the mission which he actually obtained not coinciding with this idea. Before starting he obtained his degree of Master of Arts and Doctor from his Alma Mater, and then again got into trouble with his old enemy the Governor- General, Count de Berg, who had lent so ready an ear to the report of his tavern speech. This time, although he had the university authorities on his side, and was really guiltless of offence, M. de Berg was for having him tried for high treason, and he was advised by a prudent friend in his Excellency's counsels, to fly the country, or evil would happen to him. Indeed, the Professor was subsequently deprived of his civil rights by P •-: _ an order from the — — — Government of St. Petersburg. Never- theless, in the autumn of 1858 M. Nor- denskjold was allowed to return to Finland without molestation ; and having in the interval joined the expedition of Torell to Spitzberg he was offered the post of State Mineralogist at Stockholm, in succession to Mosander. The persecution against him, however, set on foot by De Berg was still smoulder- ing, though it had given out no active spark, and difficulties immediately arose about his passport. When he finally obtained it, also, it was accompanied by an emphatic warn- ing from the governor to return no more ; and the Russian Minister at Stockholm received orders never to affix a visa to his passport should he contemplate doing so. That order remained in force till 1862, when De Berg was deprived of his Gover- nor-Generalship, and from that date the Professor has been able to visit his native land as often as he has felt any desire to do so. Indeed, in 1867, he married Countess Anna Mannerheim, a Finnish lady of high rank, and then a strange thing happened, showing how sullen £3 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. and persistent is official tyranny, forgetting and forgiving nothing. Being desirous of establishing himself at Helsingfors after his marriage, the Professor became a candidate for the chair of min- eralogy and geology, receiving the unani- mous support of the academic council in his application for this appointment. M. Daschkof, Russian Minister at Stockholm, then sent for him and told him he should be at once nominated if he would renounce all interference in Finnish politics. Dr. Nordenskjold refused to give any promise to that effect ; and the diplomatist appealed to his newly married wife. " Monsieur," said she in French, " Mon mari est tres decide." There ended the negotiation, and he was not named. It is hardly surprising that Professor Nordenskjold should have subsequently obtained letters of naturalisa- tion as a Swedish subject. He sat and voted in the Chamber of Nobles during the last two Assemblies of the Swedish States, and from 1869 to 187 1 was Liberal mem- : TKE VEGA AT ANCHOR ber for Stockholm. What has happened to him since then is a part of the grand history of Arctic navigation. The splendid liberality of Mr. Oscar Dickson and of M. Alexander Sibcriakoff, the voyages of the gallant adventurer — often fruitless, always perilous, and at last successful — will find their proper place there. The last and most renowned achievement of this eminent Swedish explorer was ac- complished in the summer of 1879. It was the successful navigation, in a small steam- vessel called the Vega, of the entire North- East Passage from Europe, round the coast IN THE BAY OF NAPLES, of Siberia, and through Behring's Strait, to the Pacific Ocean. The importance of this great feat of maritime enterprise may not be confined to increasing our geographical knowledge, but may possibly extend to the opening of new routes for commerce. Gut illustrations represent the enthusiastic recep- tion of the expedition at Naples, in March 1880. Wherever throughout the whole world there exists a generous enthusiasm for acts of daring done in the service of mankind, there will be hearty admiration and kind thought for Professor Nordenskjold. GIOVANNI DUPRE, THE ITALIAN SCULPTOR. QIOVAJMNI DUPRE, THE ITALIA^ SCULPTOR. ne of the greatest of Italian sculptors has given his me- moirs to the world, — having been written, as he tells us, for the benefit of young art- ists in the future, as well as a memorial for his family. To the art-student the name of Dupre is sufficiently well known ; and those who know nothing of his works have perhaps heard of him as a striking example of a self-made man. His name has figured in " Volere e Potere" (To will is to be able). It is a sad story of young genius struggling desperately with every adverse circumstance, of which poverty was not the (east. Giovanni Dupre was the son of a poor wood engraver of Siena, and was born March ist, 1817. His infancy was spent in wretched poverty, and the hardships of life were aggravated by the severe and un- sympathetic father, who did not recognise the latent talent of the child, neither did he show much consideration for his natural feelings. He used to take him with him to the different towns where he went seek- ing employment ; and often left him alone for days to mind the house, while he him- self visited the rest of the family. The little fellow loved his mother, and grieved bitterly at the long separation from her. On one occasion he escaped from his father, and travelled from Siena to Flor- ence, almost the whole way on foot, in order to spend the Easter festival with his mother and sisters. He was eventually apprenticed to an engraver, and he re- mained for several years in this employ- ment; but while working for his master with 1 will and ability, and giving his small earnings to his mother, he found time to pursue his favourite study by labouring during the hours of repose. Sculpture had for him an attraction which could not be resisted or overcome, and to satisfy this innate longing he was content to deprive himself of repose and nutriment. Very simply and prettily he relates the story of his first and only love. When he was between eighteen and nineteen years of age, having acquired a certain superiority to his companions, and being noticed and complimented by gentlemen who visited the engraver's shop, he began to consort with gay companions, frequent billiard rooms, and substitute for the serious reading to which he had been addicted works of fiction of the lightest sort. Just in time, before he had gone far on the dangerous and slippery path which would have led him to ruin, his guardian angel appeared and took possession of his soul while it was still fresh and unpolluted. At the door of his master's shop he saw passing one day a young girl who walked with short, quick steps, and downcast eyes, and " thoughts within herself shut up." The young sculptor's lively and ardent imagin- ation was impressed by the passing vision. He thought of her often at his work, and longed to see her again. The next time she crossed his path was in a church. She was kneeling at prayers in the shadow, and the expression of her face was so " chaste, sweet, firm, and serene," that the young artist remained enchained to the spot till she rose and departed. He followed her to her place of employment, and saw by the sign on the door that it was an ironing establishment. Many times he pursued the unconscious object of his romantic passion through the streets, and when she became aware of the fact, he would turn away dis- concerted. 3> FAMOUS MEN ANu FAMOUS DEEDS. At last he conceived the idea of opening his mind to the girl ; and with this intention he followed her so closely one day that she stopped and said, " I will not have any one walking after me." The lover faltered some apology in such an agitated voice that she turned again and looked at him for a couple of minutes, then added, " Go to my mother's house, but do not stop me on the road again." " I thanked her with my eyes, and we separated, and I returned to the shop, with my heart throbbing with love and hope," says our author. The mother of Maria thought Dupre too young, and very soon after visits had been exchanged between the families, he was requested to discontinue the intercourse till he was in a better position. After some months' banishment from the house of his betrothed, he was re-admitted, and soon after married. It was a most happy union ; for though the young Dupre rose within the space of four or five years to fame, if not to fortune, and associated with the cream of Italian and foreign society, it never entered his heart to be ashamed of his humble origin or his good and simple wife, to whom he never alludes without tendci gratitude and affection. The author's " Thoughts on Art " are as valuable as his personal memories are in- teresting, and all tend to show him a true artist and a true gentleman. The first great work which brought Dupre into notice was his " Abel," a prostrate figure, representing the good brother at the moment he received the fratricidal blow. He persuaded the illus- trious master, Bartolini, to visit his studio, and pronounce judgment on this his most ambitious performance. The verdict was favourable, and " all the world " ran to look at the new statue, which was placed in the Academia delle Belle Arti, in which insti- tution the young artist was soon appointed to a professorship. Orders from illustrious patrons soon poured in on Dupre, and his studio became the resort of the most dis- tinguished men in arts and literature. The Emperor of Russia visited him, and the Prince Demidoff was more his friend than his patron. Of the prince's wife, Mathilde Buonaparte, the author relates a little story which does not give a favourable impression of that beautiful and charming lady. A statue of Cain soon followed that ot Abel, but it was not such a success, and the wits of the day used to say that this time it was Abel who killed Cain. Siena was very proud of her gifted son, and on the occasion of a visit to his native place, the citizens subscribed to give him an order for a new statue ; the subject, Pope Pius II. (Piccolomini). The sculptor grumbles — we think rather unreasonably — that this work was left unpacked in its case for months after its arrival, attributing this neglect to Pius IX. 's abandonment of the Liberal cause. It was the momentous year 1848, and the intense excitement in which men's minds were held by the approaching national crisis left them little inclination to think of statues. At a proper time the citizens of Siena unpacked Pius II. — not- withstanding the backslidings of his name- sake then in the Vatican — and placed him in a suitable niche in the beautiful Duomo, where he still occupies an honoured position. In the cemetery of Siena, also, there is a monument by Dupre, the " Pietoi," which won the gold medal at the Paris Exhibition. The great work of his later years was the national monument to Cavour, which took eight years to complete, and was placed in Turin a few years ago. The sculptor shows himself content with this performance in his memoirs, but it has been severely criticised with regard to the con- ception, not only of the four allegorical groups at the corners, but the principal one, which represents Italy in a half-kneeling posture and semi-nude condition, offering a laurel crown to Cavour, who looks down at her with a somewhat patronizing air, as he holds a cigar in his hand. The sculp- I tor's description is, that Italy is supposed to be rising from her prostrate condition, and half embracing her champion and saviour, as she offers him the wreath. But, however explained, the conception is not a happy one. GIOVANNI DUPRk, THE ITALIAN SCULPTOR. V Pius IX. was about to have his bust ex- ecuted by Dupre, but on learning that he was the author of the Cavour Monument, he declined— not on political grounds, but because of the nudities that adorned it, which had been described to him as objec- tionable. The artist expressed his deep regret at the holy father's displeasure, and the Pope replied by a kind message, saying he was sure of the goodness of his intentions, but all the same he would not have his bust done by him ; but neither would he give the work to any one else. Dupre never took any interest in politics, his whole soul was absorbed in the pursuit of his art ; and the revolution of 1859, which every one in Florence was fully prepared for, came upon him like a bomb. The 27th of April found him shut up in his studio, hard at work, calmly unconscious ol the frantic excitement that was raging without ; and not till the cries of " Viva r Italia /" came near, and were echoed from the neighbouring windows, was he aware of what was going on. Then, and not till then, did he tell his model that she might dress herself and go her way, as he had no stomach for work that day. The great revolution, which made so many millions of hearts throb with passionate emotion, was to him simply a disturbance, an interruption to the iven tenour of life. After this we can easily understand that the flight of the Grand Duke was a grief to him, and that he thought more of the liberal patron of art, who had a special fondness for him (Dupre), than of the national aspirations for inde- pendence and unity. His grateful remem- brance of his old master is that he was u sweet and commendable in his nature"; and though he had nothing to fear because of this partiality from the Liberal Govern- ment or the magnanimous king, still, one cannot help admiring fidelity to a fallen prince. But what we do not admire is the Marshal Haynau episode. Making all due allow- ance for artistic instincts, the reader's sympathy cannot follow the author when he sacrifices his dignity to gratify the desire of modelling a remarkable head, and the curiosity to talk to an infamous individual. The artist should not forget that he is a man ; and if he cannot feel for his fellow- men so far away as Hungary, he was Italian, and could remember the atrocities com- mitted in Lombardy in 1849. An outcry was raised against Professor Dupre when the fact became known, and the incident of the London draymen hunting the woman- flogger out of the city was quoted with commendations. The author speaks bitterly and sneeringly of these attacks, and says that his fellow-citizens did not know that he had declined to make a statue of the execrated Austrian, contenting himself with the head only; and adds in his defence that if an artist chose a brigand for a subject, he would not be condemned by public opinion. Very true ; no Philis- tine would dispute the artist's right to model a brigand if he thought proper. But he treats the brigand as a brigand ; while he enters the employment, so to speak, of the ruffianly marshal, takes his money, and treats him with the considera- tion due to a gentleman of distinguished position. Not the least interesting chapter in the book is the author's account of his visit to the London Exhibition, where his chief works were displayed. He gives an amusing account of how he knocked off a badly- restored finger from one of his statues, and how he was taken before a commissioner, who condemned him, in bad French, to be confined for the offence ; and when the artist declared his name, he ordered him to prove his identity by restoring the finger on the spot, which he accordingly did : and he warns young Italians not to venture into the country till they have learned a little English, as he suffered much inconvenience by not knowing a single word : — not even " Leicester Square " could he pronounce in an intelligible manner. Passing out of the Piazza San Marco into the quiet little street, Via della Sapienza — the Street of Knowledge — on the right hand we come to a small door with the 3 2 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. plate, G. Dupre. Right opposite the door in the little entrance hall the First Mur- derer glares down on us, every limb and muscle of his body expressing the intense energy of rage ; in an inner apartment we behold his victim lying prostrate, the rigidity of death just settling on his noble countenance and manly form ; and there is the graceful, pensive Sappho with her lyre beside her ; the tired Bacchante ; the little Dante and Beatrice ; and the Madonna, with the Christ supported on her knee, sublime in her grief, as with extended hands she bends over to look into the dead face, on which no trace of suffering is visible — nothing to mar the perfect beauty and perfect repose expressed in the whole figure. THOJ^S ALVA LDISO|L homas Alva Edison, whose name has recently become so familiar to us in connection with various astonishing inventions, was born at Milan, Erie County, Ohio, in 1847. His father is of Dutch extrac- tion, but his mother, though born in Massachusetts, was the daughter of Scotch parents. At her knee he received his education, or rather such education as he had acquired previous to the age of twelve, when he began the battle of life as a train boy on the Grand Trunk Railroad. On this railway, in a disused smoking saloon, he established a chemical laboratory, prose- cuting his experiments while the train was in transit from place to place. Here also he established a printing office, and by means of some old type which he had purchased he actually started a weekly periodical — printed in the train, and en- titled the Grand Trunk Herald. This, the only known instance of a newspaper printed under such peculiar circumstances, consisted of a small sheet, printed on one side only. Edison's printing operations, as well as his chemical experiments, were, it seems, brought to an abrupt conclusion by the upsetting of a bottle containing phosphorus, which nearly set the car in flames. Shortly after this, becoming intimate with some telegraph operators at Detroit, his attention was directed to electrical science, in connection with which he was afterwards destined to make so many discoveries. He at this time conceived the happy idea of telegraphing the headings of the newspapers in advance to the different towns on the line. Unlooked-for success attended his efforts, and he from this time devoted the principal part of his time to telegraphy. He was greatly assisted in this by one of the railway officials, whose child he had saved from a terrible death by an act of personal heroism. Edison subsequently held several succes- sive appointments as operator in different telegraph offices. But they were all of short duration, for his restless mind was ever prompting him to experiments with the instruments under his control, which were not in accordance with the traditions of a well-regulated office. He next appears at Cincinnati in the same capacity. Here a strike occurred, and one evening the office was left without any official but young Edison, who man- aged unaided to get through the more important work. For this he was next day rewarded by an increase of salary. He presently left this situation for a more lucrative one at Memphis, which engage- ment was soon at an end, in consequence of changes which ensued when the lines were transferred from Government control to that of a public company. After much uphill work and many dis- appointments, the year 1870 found Edison 34 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. at New York without employment. It so happened that about this time the apparatus at the office of the Gold Indicator Company, which was so old and faulty that it was constantly out of order, suddenly failed entirely. The confusion was very great, for there was an unusual pressure of work at the time. Edison boldly volunteered to put things to rights. His offer was accepted, he found the defect, and work was resumed after a short delay. He was rewarded with an important post on the staff of the com- pany. From this time he prospered. His inventions gradually replaced the obsolete apparatus on the premises, and he was eventually retained as electrician at a large salary, the company holding the right of first purchase of every new machine which he might contrive. He now established a large factory at Newark, employing no less than 300 hands, and his labours were so indefatigable that at one time his assistants were busy upon no less than forty-five different inventions. Finding that the ties of regular business hours interfered too much with the time he wished to employ in research, Edison gave up his appointment. He also broke up his establishment at Newark, and three years ago removed with his family to Menlo Park, which is about twenty-four miles from New York. Here, far away from the din of city life, he has built a laboratory and workshop which are stocked with all the newest appliances and labour-saving machines. Here, too, is kept a sample of every known chemical agent, in case at any time it might be required for experiment. Edison has already been granted some 120 patents. By a peculiarity of the Amer- ican patent laws many of these pertain to the same invention. Thus no less than thirty-five relate to Automatic Telegraph apparatus, and about the same number to telegraphic printing contrivances. But the machine with which his name is principally identified is the Speaking Phonograph, for its wonders are more attractive to the general public than his inventions of a far | more important character. Among these j latter we may mention the Quadruples Telegraph, by which four different messages may be simultaneously sent along a single wire ; the Electric Pen ; the Carbon Rheo- stat and Microtasimeter, the Electro Moto- graph, and its outcome, the loud-speaking Telephone. We may surmise that Edison's chief efforts are now directed to the produc- tion of the electric light for domestic use. The various electric machines and lamps which are now employed with a varying measure of success are thus described by an American writer : — " For some time past the public, like a schoolboy on an insulating stool, has been so highly charged with the electric light that, so to speak, each individual hair has stood on end with curiosity, if not with electricity. Gas stocks, after the fashion of the pith balls on an electrical machine, have gone dancing up and down under the in- fluence of this mysterious agent. News- papers, daily and weekly, have fizzled and sputtered with articles surcharged with elec- tricity, and when, meteor-like some of the larger stores dazzled their Christmas patrons with its splendour, we revelled in its bright- ness, earnestly hoping that, as was prophe- sied, this white purity would soon replace the dim and yellow gas flame. Gentle reader, join us in an excursion to the labo- ratory, and though it be dark and dingy, noisy and dirty, with its busy engine and maze of belts and wheels and shafts, see if we cannot make the electricity give us some light on the subject. A number of years ago Faraday and Arago, noted scientists of England and France, discovered two principles which opened a new and almost infinite field in electrical science, and enabled this age of machinery to invent a machine for pro- ducing electricity, thus dispensing with the bother and expense of the battery. All of the magneto-electric machines, as they are called, of the present day, however different in detail, are based on these two laws, which (and now for a dry bit of fact) are as I follows : If a piece of insulated wire be I coiled around a rod of iron, and an electrh THOMAS ALVA EDISON. 35 current be allowed to pass through the wire, the iron will become a magnet so long as the current flows ; and, conversely, if the wire-covered rod be moved to and fro near a magnet, so as to be influenced by its magnetism, currents of electricity will be produced in the wire so long as the motion is continued. Why this is so no one knows. The scientists learnedly call it £ magnetic induction,' but here their knowledge ends, and if we adopt the term we shall be as wise as they. For convenience, our rod, with its cover- ing of wire, is bent into a ring and mounted between the poles of a magnet, so that it may be easily and rapidly rotated by steam power or otherwise. In its revolutions each part of the iron is brought in succes- sion under the magnet poles, causing by this mysterious ' induction ' currents of elec- tricity to flow through the wire covering, which are collected and carried to their destination by the conductors touching the wire. This ring is called an armature, and though, as we shall presently see, there are many different forms in the dozen or twenty machines now in the market, this plan runs through them all, and is the only really essential characteristic of a machine for transforming power into electricity. But enough of science, and here is the laboratory. A door swings open, ushering us into a long though rather low room with massive beams and rafters, that contrast sharply in their newly whitened purity with the whirling wheels and pulleys which, with their tangle of connecting belts, cover the ceiling. Through the busy room, past lathes and planers and milling machines, all filled with the curious possibilities of future machinery, we make our way to the corner devoted to electricity ; and a queer place it is. Here, on a long wooden bench, the scarlet and vermilion forms of a dozen of the most prominent machines gleam brightly against the white wall of the build- ing, while overhead the ceiling is crossed and recrossed with a maze of wire, till it seems as if some huge arachnid had amused itself by spinning complicated problems in geometry. First, at the end of the bench stands a Brush machine, at present the one most extensively used in America. In the centre is the armature, a ring of cast iron with a series of grooves cut in it, which are wound full of insulated wire. On either side are what appear to be two large spools of wire, but in reality they are the magnets, and here the first of our laws is illustrated. The early machines were made with mag- nets constructed of large pieces of hardened steel, but this was found to be very expen- sive and to have insufficient power. Mr. Ladd, of England, conceived the idea of making them of cast iron covered with wire, through which the electricity developed by the machine should be allowed to pass. This plan succeeded admirably, giving much more powerful magnets. In the Brush machine the armature is turned by a pulley at the left, and as the ring passes the poles of the magnets the iron becomes strongly magnetized, developing electric currents in the insulated wire filling the grooves. By an ingenious and rather com- plicated system of wire connections these are carried through the coils of the magnets and delivered at the binding posts in front, whence they may be conveyed to their des- tination. Next stands a Wallace machine. Here the iron ring is replaced by a disk, bearing iron spools instead of grooves, for holding the insulated wire. There are two sets, one on each side of the disk, the advantage of this arrangement being that they may be used either separately or combined, thus giving two currents of moderate power, or one that is very strong. In the Fuller machine the armature is made of a piece of cast iron, having a series of projections like the spikes of a carriage wheel. The, wire is coiled on these until the spaces between them are filled, thus making a nearly solid cylinder. Otherwise it is es- sentially like the others. There are several other American ma chines, such as the Maxim, the Western, 3 6 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. etc., varying somewhat in detail, and each possessing some advantages not obtained in the others. The Gramme is a French in- vention, and of all the European machines has been most extensively used abroad. Here the magnets are placed above and below so as to enclose the armature, but the peculiarity of the machine lies in the con- struction of the latter, which, instead of a ring or disk partly covered with wire, is composed of an internal core of small iron rods completely covered with the insulated wire. Thus a very efficient arrangement is obtained in a small compass. For the suc- cessful operation of a magneto-machine, the armature must be very rapidly revolved, some thousand or fifteen hundred times a minute, and in order to maintain this speed against the powerful attraction of the mag- nets a great deal of force must be expended. Those which we have examined require from two to ten horse power, to give the best results. Thus briefly we have seen the outlines of the principles involved in machinery for producing electricity. Let us inquire, after a little breathing space, how the current shall be utilized for illumination, the pro- blem which so many are now waiting anxiously to see solved." Having thus described the method of generating the light, the writer describes some of the lamps for utilising it : — "Previously we have seen somewhat of the various sources of electricity j how shall we now make light of the force they furnish ? Sir Humphry Davy obtained very brilliant results by tipping the poles of his battery with pieces of charcoal, and, after touching them together for an instant, separating them a little. In some mysterious way the electricity in its effort to cross the gap is converted into heat, and causes the charcoal points to glow with an intense white light. Under this fierce heat the longest pieces of charcoal are consumed in a few minutes, and it was not until some French scientists substituted a very hard kind of coke, called gas-carbon- 2 - since it is a product of the gas-works— that the electric light could be maintained for any length of time. Even this carbon, hard as it is, slowly burns, and unless some means are arranged to cause the points to approach each other the space between them will soon become so great as to prevent the passage of the electricity, and the light stops, while if they move together too fast they will touch, and again we are in darkness. This motion must be perfectly uniform and steady, or the light will flicker and sputter ; this unsteadiness it is that has caused so much complaint. Many ingenious devices have been con- trived to overcome these difficulties, nearly all being modifications of one fundamental idea, which is well illustrated by the Fou- cault lamp. In the case we see a compli- cated system of cog-wheels, whose object is to uniformly and steadily cause the carbons to approach each other a little faster than they are consumed. Situated on the base is an electro-magnet, so placed that when it attracts the lever it sets a little catch into the clock-work and stops it. The electricity that supplies the lamp passes through the magnet, and so long as the carbons are in the right position the wheel-work is locked and they remain stationary. Soon they burn a little, and the increasing space checks the current, and, weakening the magnet, sets free the lever, and starting the clock-work moves them together. Let us try it ; the connections with the machine are soon made, and touching a spring the lamp flashes into light, causing us, with a blink, to shield our eyes ; for, indeed, it is quite hazardous to look even for a moment at such intense brightness. By putting the lamp in a magic-lantern we can throw a picture of the carbon-points on yonder screen and safely examine them at our leisure. This Foucault is probably the best of all the numerous lamps ; but, owing to its delicate machinery, its high price would preclude people of moderate in- comes, at least, from having a great many such burners in their houses. Probably, considering both cheapness and efficiency, the lamp accompanying the Brush machine h the best. It contains no corr plication of THOMAS ALVA EDISON. 37 clock-work, a rod holding the upper carbon being simply balanced inside of a hollow electro-magnet. As the carbon is consumed the rod slowly slides down, constantly re- taining them in the proper position. Ah, here is the famous Jablochkoff cardie, the invention of an officer in the Russian army, whose ingenious device ob- viated the necessity of all the complicated machinery previously used in electric lamps. It occurred to him to place the two rods of carbon side by side, separated by a strip of glass or other insulating material. This keeps the electricity always at the top of the combination, where it plays back and forth, while the intense heat melts the glass and exposes fresh carbon as fast as it is required. Unfortunately the light is very unsteady, and the little candle can only be made to last for two or three hours. Thus far, in all the lamps we have examined the light is obtained by the pas- sage of the current between two points of carbon. There is however another way, which consists in forcing it through a thin strip or wire of platinum, or other infusible substance, which is a poor conductor of electricity. As between the carbon points, so in passing through the wire, the current is, in some manner not well understood, converted into heat, and raising the wire to a white heat causes it to give a pure steady light. This is called the incandescent method, and is the plan adopted by Mr. Edison. It is a glass globe in which nitro- gen has been carefully substituted for the air, in order to prevent the combustion of a small pencil of lampblack or coke which takes the place of the platinum wire. The electricity is conveyed to the rod by two copper conductors extending to the base of the glass, and, making the connection with (he machine, the little carbon is soon white hot, giving a very pleasing light about equal to two gas-burners. Mr. Edison's method is to pass the current through a little coil of wire made of an alloy of platinum and iridium, two very infusible metals. The little coil is then enclosed in a glass globe. The incandescent method presents the ad- vantages of giving a perfectly steady, pure, white light in small lamps of moderate expense. Unfortunately it requires a good deal more electricity to give the same amount of light with these lamps as is given by the other method. What about the divisibility of the light, do you say ? as, having exhausted the labo- ratory's resources, and probably the time and patience of our host, its foreman, we turn homeward. Ah, that 's the sticking point just now, yet doubtless time and effort on the part of the electricians will solve the problem. To obtain a very large and bril- liant light very cheaply by electricity is now the easiest thing in the world, but to split that into forty or fifty little lights, suitable for a parlour or bedroom, is as yet unaccom- plished. When magneto-machines were first invented it was found impossible to supply more than one light from a single machine. Either the lamps would all be too unsteady to be of any use, or one would burn successfully to the extinguishment of the others. Now it is common to place eight or ten lamps in a single circuit, and a? many as twenty-five are claimed to have been supplied from a single machine. It will thus be seen that, as the science makes progress, we may expect to have a perfected system of extended illumination. Among its many triumphs tne nine- teenth century may justly claim the electric light. Truly its universal application may lie far in the future, yet even now it is largely employed and its use rapidly ex- tending. In oil-works and on shipboard, where absolute safety from fire is essential ; in fabric and colour factories, whose success so largely depends on the purity and rich- ness of the supply of light ; and in some few public buildings, whose architects with wis- dom unusual entertain a slight regard for ventilation, as affecting the comfort and health of humanity, the electric light is being rapidly introduced. Beware then, O gas companies, lest your high prices for poor illumination enable even the dawn of electricity's light to fade your dim and yel- low flame into a shadow of the past" FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. gIR WILLIAM FERC|U££ON. 'ir William Fer- gusson was born at Prestonpans, in East Lothian, on the 20th of March, 1808. He was educated at the High School of Edinburgh, and passed from the School into the University, with the intention of ultimately practising the law j but he soon abandoned this in- tention in favour of the more congenial pursuit of surgery, in which he was destined to become pre-eminently distinguished. Even as a pupil, Fergusson displayed the manual dexterity for which he was so remarkable in after-life; and this quality attracted the attention of his great teacher, Robert Knox, who sought and secured his services as Demonstrator of Anatomy^ Those were the days before the passing of Warburton's Anatomy Act, when teachers were dependent upon the so-called " resur- rection-men " for a supply of subjects ; and soon after the commencement of Fergus- son's career as a demonstrator, the storm caused by the discovery of the murders perpetrated by Burke and Hare burst upon the Edinburgh school. Knox was com- pelled to fly for his life ; but his more fortunate assistant succeeded in passing through the trouble of the time unscathed. Fergusson taught anatomy with great earnestness for many years, and devoted much of his spare time to the preparation of dissections, which are still preserved in the museum of the College of Surgeons of Edinburgh as examples of his skill ; but he constantly looked forward to surgery as his eventual calling, and as early as 1831 he began to deliver surgical lectures as one of those extra-academical teachers from among whom the list of Edinburgh Professors is asually recruited. He ^as appointed Surgeon to the Royal Public Dispensary, where he soon became noted for his skill and dexterity as an operator ; and upon the removal of Mr. Liston to London, in 1835, he was left with no rival in his own department, excepting Mr. Syme. In 1836 he became Surgeon to the Royal Infirmary, and in 1840, when King's College Hospital was established in London, the Council not unnaturally turned their eyes northward and made proposals to Fergusson. After some negotiation he accepted the post of surgeon to the hospital and the Professor- ship, and settled in Dover Street. Having at first no professional following, and with the expenses of a family pressing upon him, Fergusson, like others, found the road to success a steep and difficult one, and it was only the possession of some private fortune through his wife which en- abled him to hold his ground. Before long, however, medical practitioners began to flock to King's College Hospital in order to witness the performance of opera- tions with a dexterity equal to that of Liston, and with a certain finish and care- fulness which Liston had never displayed. In 1842 Fergusson published the first edition of his work on " Practical Surgery," which has since been the text-book of many generations of students, and which exerted well-deserving influence upon his success as a consulting surgeon. The medical school of King's College was also a constant source of practice, for its numer- ous pupils carried the name of their teacher to every part of the world. In many respects Fergusson was much aided by fortune. Sir Astley Cooper died, full of years and honours, in 1842 ; Liston was cut off in his prime in 1847 ; and Aston Key, the most brilliant operator of the day, fell a victim to cholera in 1S49. Sir Benjamin Brodie, who had never been remarkable as an operator, was glad in his SIR WILLIAM FER G USSON. 39 latter days to commit many cases which re- quired the use of the knife to the hands of younger surgeons, and thus Fergusson soon found himself almost without a rival in London in his own department of the profession. He was fully equal to the position in which he was placed, and rose rapidly in the estimation of the public. His fine, handsome person and winning manners were passports to the confidence of his patients, and his unhesitating adoption of ether and chloroform as soon as these agents were introduced into practice not only enabled him to accomplish more than had been possible to his predecessors, but to do this without the infliction of pain. His powerful hand rendered him especially fitted to deal with large and formidable tumours in a way which had never before been attempted, and, at the same time, his refinement of touch gave him great ad- vantages in the performance of more delicate operations, among which those for the cure of deformities of the mouth, such as hare lip and cleft palate, were particu- larly remarkable for the improvements which he introduced and for the increased success which attended them. His greatest surgical work, however, was in the treat- ment of diseased joints, and generally in the treatment which he called by the apt name of " conservative surgery." To him is almost entirely due the modern practice of removing the actual disease of a joint only, in cases which, before his time, would have been treated by amputation of the whole of the affected limb. In 1843 Fergusson was elected a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons of Eng- land, and soon afterwards a Fellow of the Royal Society. In 1849 he was chosen to succeed Mr. Aston Key as surgeon to the Prince Consort; in 1855 he was appointed Surgeon-Extraordinary, and in 1867 Ser- geant-Surgeon to the Queen. In 1865 Her Majesty was pleased to elevate him to a baronetcy, the offer being conveyed in very flattering terms by the then Prime Minister, Earl Russell. Sir William was President of the Royal College of Surgeons in 1870; and previously, but for a few years only, had held office as an Examiner, the duties of which post were not congenial to him. As a surgeon, Sir William Fergusson was both enterprising and cautious. Fully re- liant upon himself, he could often venture to perform operations which others had declined to undertake ; and his perfect self-possession in the most trying emer- gencies has more than once converted into a surgical triumph what might in other hands have been a catastrophe. Deliberate in his movements, he yet completed his work more rapidly than more showy operators ; since no action of his hand was thrown away, and no step had ever to be retraced. Thoroughly painstaking in his attention to details whenever such atten- tion was likely to contribute to success, he despised the fussiness of complicated instruments and apparatus, and employed the simplest means for the accomplish- ment of the ends which he had in view. With an apparently intuitive knowledge of what ought to be done in a given case, he was not fond of long explanations or elaborate statements either to patients or to their friends ; and his favourite phrase that he would " do a little something " was often applied to some of the most formid- able proceedings in surgery. This re- ticence rendered his teaching a matter rather of example than of precept. Though not without a certain native eloquence on subjects which deeply interested him, he lacked clearness as a lecturer, and his speeches on public occasions hardly carried the weight to which they were entitled by the position of the speaker. Kind of heart, and ready to help all who were in need, he was endeared to his many pupils and friends ; and, fond of society, he acted host both in George Street and at his Scottish home in Peeblesshire with geniality and genuine hospitality. He died at his house in George Street on Feb. 10th, 1877, after nearly a twelvemonth's illness, at the age of sixty-nine. 40 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. £IR TITU£ £ALT, OF JBALT^AIRE. ir Titus Salt was born on the 20th of September, 1803, at the old Manor- house, Morley. His father, who was a wool-stapler, moved with his family from ^ Morley to Crofton, near Wakefield, and at Heath Grammar School, near that town, his son received his education. It was just at the time when the worsted manufacture was beginning to rise from a domestic operation to a factory institution j and as the change was distasteful to the older stuff manufacturers in the district around Wakefield, the trade shifted its quarters and settled at Bradford. Among those who moved with it were Daniel Salt and his family. The father continued to confine himself to the purchase and sale of wool. The more ambitious son de- termined to attempt the manufacture of stuffs, and gave the first intimation of his speciality in the utilizing of raw materials heretofore unappreciated. The wool called " Donskoi," from the south-eastern parts of Russia, grown on the banks of the river Don, was a coarse and tangled material, then considered unavail- able for purposes of manufacture. Hew to overcome the difficulties of spinning and weaving this article was the first problem Mr. Titus Salt set himself to solve. For this purpose he set up his machinery in v/hat was known as Thompson's Mill, Silsbridge Lane, Bradford. Successful in this enterprise, he extended his operations in this and other branches of the worsted manufacture, and added a large factory in Union Street. His trade grew rapidly under his hands, and in a few years he was carrying on his works not only in the two piaces just named, but also at Holiings' Mill, Silsbridge Lane j at Brick-lane Mill, and in Fawcett Court. It was in the year 1836 that Sir Titus Salt achieved his greatest success, in be- coming for practical purposes the dis- coverer of the wool or hair now known in almost all parts of the civilized world as alpaca. The existence of the animal called the paca, or alpaca, had indeed been known nearly 300 years before, and its long fleeces were boasted of by the Spanish Governors of Peru in the 16th century. But no one in England had operated upon the article with much success, and it was shown to Mr. Salt by a Liverpool broker as a novelty in 1836. While thus founding his private fortunes, he was not unmindful of his more public obligations. He was elected Mayor of Bradford in 1848, and discharged the duties of that office with punctuality and efficiency. Meanwhile his reputation as a manufacturer was advancing, and the increased demand for his goods rendered necessary improved facilities for their production. Accordingly, in 1 85 1, the year of the " Great Exhibition," the works at Saltaire were commenced. They were opened on the 20th of September, 1853, the fiftieth anniversary of their owner's birthday, on which occasion he gave in one of the vast rooms of the factory a banquet, at which he entertained 2,500 workpeople. The works started with such eclat received subsequently various addi- tions and improvements, and furnished em- ployment to a very large number of persons, for whose accommodation he erected the dwellings now grown into the town of Saltaire. These comprised, at the last census taken, 820 houses, occupied by 4,389 persons. In 1859 he erected the Congregational Church at Saltaire. In 1863, by erecting buildings for baths and wash-houses, he provided for the cleanliness and consequent self-respect of his workpeople. He had before this furnished them with facilities for the educa- tion of their children by building a large SIX TITUS SALT, OF SALTAIRE. 41 schoolroom ; but as, with the extension of his works and the increase in the numbers of his workpeople, this provision had in his judgment become inadequate, he built a fresh range of schoolrooms in 1868, with accommodation for 750 scholars. A new Sunday-school was built by Sir Titus in connection with the Saltaire Congregational Church, costing, with the site, nearly ^10,000. He contributed in a munificent manner towards the cost of the handsome Congregational Church at Lightcliffe, and since then offered a site for a Board School at Saltaire. A hospital and infirmary have also been added to his erections, so that the needs of the sick might be relieved ; while for the widows and aged he provided 45 alms- houses, with a lawn and shrubbery in front, all so neatly kept as to be models of cleanliness and comfort. In 187 1 a beauti- ful park, fourteen acres in extent, on the banks of the river Aire, and within an easy distance of the factory and the town, SALTAIRE CLUB AND INSTITUTION. was given by Sir Titus Salt for the use of the public ; and in November of the follow- ing year a large and handsome building was provided by him to serve as a Club and Institute, where a large library is to be found, evening classes assemble, lectures on science and literature are delivered, and the games of chess and billiards may be played. In the year 1857 he filled the office of President of the Bradford Chamber of Commerce. In 1859 he was elected Member of Parliament for the borough of Bradford. So long as he filled this pos: he attended regularly the sittings of the House of Commons, but the post was somewhat of an irksome one to him, and he resigned his office in 1861 and came back to his admiring followers and friends. Previous to entering Parliament, however, he had filled a number of important public offices. Besides being a magistrate for the borough of Bradford, he was appointed on the Commission of the Peace for the West Riding, and was also made a deputy-lieu- tenant of the Riding. In September, 1869, 4 a FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. the Queen conferred a baronetcy upon him — an act which was universally recognised as a well-merited bestowal of the Royal favour. During the latter part of his life he lived in retirement at Crow Nest, although never relinquishing his connection with the works at Saltaire. During the twenty-seven years ^ver which the history of Saltaire now ex- tends there have been many public mani- festations of the high esteem in which Sir Titus Salt was held both by his own workpeople and the public generally. In 1829 Sir Titus married Caroline, daughter of Mr. George Whittam, of Grimsby, by whom he had a family of eleven children. Sir Titus Salt's public donations during the last quarter of a century have amounted to many hundred thousand pounds. The estimate of a man's charitableness of nature is not, of course, to be formed merely from the money value of his gifts. But those who were best acquainted with Sir Titus Salt knew that he felt genuine compassion for distress, however much it might be un- consciously veiled by an outward appear- ance of impassiveness and reserve. Though unable, from advancing years and physical infirmity, to take a prominent part in public matters, his influence and his purse were ever at the disposal of patriotism and benevolence. He remained true to the Liberal political opinions he had formed in his youth. He had been a Radical re- former ever since he attained to manhood, and he was not a person to give up con- victions that had become part of his character. A conscientious Dissenter when comparatively poor, he would not throw aside his religion when he got rich. And, having always sympathised with the suffer- ings of his fellow-creatures, his practical manifestations of the feeling increased with his power of exhibiting them. £0/4E FAMOUS E begin with the most famous of them all — Christopher Columbus. The exact date and place of his birth are uncertain. He was born probably near Genoa, about the year 1436. His family was of humble origin, but his J^AVIQATOR^. woollen manu- was in sufficiently father, a facturer, easy circumstances to send him to the University of Pavia, where he studied grammar, Latin, geography, astronomy, and navigation. He was only fourteen, however, when he left the school and went to sea, and by the age of forty " had sailed to every part that had ever been sailed to before," perhaps even to Greenland, and was looked upon as a thoroughly competent mariner. In 1477 he went .to explore the countries beyond Iceland, and this voyage being successfully terminated, he returned to his home at Lisbon, where he married. His wife did not live long. The history of the great man for many weary years was a checkered one. With the fires of genius burning in his bosom, he must perforce eke out a scanty subsistence by the trade of a picture- seller. At length he obtained the protection of the great cardinal-archbishop of Toledo, and through him was admitted into the presence of the King and Queen of Spain. But even now his troubles were not over. The ecclesiastics held that the doctrine of the sphericity of the earth was contrary to the Bible, and heresy was an awful crime in those days. Years passed away, and it was not until Isabella was moved by the thought of the unbelievers of Asia, whom she hoped to convert to the Catholic faith, that the expedition was agreed upon by which Columbus hoped to solve the pro- SOME FAMOUS NAVIGATORS. 43 blem of reaching the East Indies by sailing westward around the globe. On the 17th of April, 1492, when Colum- bus was in the fifty-sixth year of his age and eighteen years after he had conceived the project, the treaty with the King of Spain was signed. The dignity of high admiral was to belong to Columbus and to descend to his heirs and successors ; he was named viceroy and governor of the new possessions which he hoped to con- quer in the rich countries of Asia, and one- tenth of the precious stones, gold, and merchandise which he might acquire was to be his. Three caravels — half-decked vessels of small tonnage — the Santa Maria, the Piuta, and the Nina, were equipped, and with a hundred and twenty men in all, the little fleet on Friday, August 3rd, 1492, at eight o'clock in the morning, crossed the bar of Saltez, off the town of Huelva, in Andalusia, beginning the most famous voyage of history. The aim of Columbus was " to explore the East by the West, and to pass by way of the West to the land whence come the spices/' The discovery of a new continent was not in his thought. It may be that he never knew he had made the discovery of America. But with the audacity of genius he ventured himself upon an utterly un- known sea, and showed the way to a new hemisphere. We have not space to follow the rest of the story — how on the 1 ith of October land was discovered, how he made other voy- ages, how without fault of his own he fell into disgrace, and was brought back to Spain in fetters, how at last grief at the ingratitude and faithlessness of his sovereign brought him to his grave. At Valladolid, May 20th, 1505, at the age of seventy, he rendered up his soul with these words : " O Lord, into Thy hands I resign my soul and body." Another famous navigator was Vasco da Gama, who was born at Sines in Portugal. The year 1469 is commonly assigned as the date of his birth, but our author thinks it is later than the facts warrant. His father before him had distinguished himself as a navigator, and Vasco early began the career of a sailor. It was on July 8th, 1497, that, in command of a fleet of four small vessels, the largest of one hundred and twenty tons and the smallest of fifty tons, he set out from the port of Rastello upon his famous voyage. He did not sail to the West as Columbus had done, but his object was to sail around Africa. He doubled the Cape of Good Hope on the 19th of November. After some tarrying at the Cape and at Natal, on the 10th of March, 1498, the expedition cast anchor before the island of Mozam- bique. They sailed thence, after a some- what varied experience, and on the 18th of May anchored six miles below " Calicut." The rich and wonderful countries for which they had been searching were at last reached ! The story of the intercourse with the •king of Calicut, of the arts of diplomacy used, of the varying fortunes of the expedi- tion, is of much interest. In it all, the firmness and real ability of Da Gama are apparent. On the 10th of August, 1498, the expe- dition departed from Calicut. They sailed along the coast of the Deccan, repaired their ships at the Laccadive Archipelago, and then turned toward Europe again. Dead calms and contrary winds made their voyage one of three months before reach- ing the African coast. The crews suffered terribly, and thirty sailors perished. Re- cruiting on the coast of Africa, and putting the reduced crews into two ships, they continued on their homeward way. Th© island of Zanzibar was discovered, and on the 20th of February, 1499, they doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and were once again on the Atlantic. The expedition reached Portugal in the early part of September, and the admiral was received with stately festivals. He was rewarded with dignities and emolu- ments, as he deserved after so adventurous a voyage. It is a cause of real and lasting regret 44 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. that the New World was not named after the man to whom belongs the honour of making the first westward voyage over the great unknown sea. This western conti- nent should have been Columbia, not America. But as it is, the history of the man from whom it gains its name is full of interest. Amerigo Vespucci, belonging to a family of distinction and wealth, was born at Florence, March 9th, 145 1. Mathematics, natural philosophy, and astrology, as it was then called, were his special studies. He left Florence in 1492 and went to Spain, where he occupied himself at first in com- mercial pursuits. He was connected with a house in Seville which advanced money to Columbus for his second voyage, and thus probably formed the acquaintance of the admiral. He may have become tired of a situation which he deemed below his powers ; he may have been seized with the fever for making new discoveries which the voyages of Columbus stimulated ; or he may have hoped to make his fortune rapidly. At any rate, we find him, in 1499, attached to an expedition which sailed from the port of Santa Maria, and was commanded by Alonzo Hojeda. Americus Vespucius, as his name is commonly written, would seem to have been astronomer to the fleet. In twenty-seven days the continent of America was sighted at a place named Venezuela, because the houses being built on piles reminded the voyagers of Venice. Ineffectual attempts were made to hold intercourse with the natives. The expedi- tion then touched at the Island of Mar- garita, the Gulf of Paria, and at the Carib- bee Islands, where Hojeda made a number of prisoners, whom he hoped to sell as slaves in Spain. He landed at Yaquimo, in Hispaniola, September 5th, 1499, and was a source of trouble to Columbus in the colony in which already discord existed. He was finally induced to return to Spain, which he reached in February, 1500, Ves- pucius having preceded him on the 18th of October, 1499. It has been claimed that Vespucius' first voyage was in 1497, and that consequently he must have seen the American continent before Columbus. Varnhagen asserts that Vespucius, having started on the 10th of May, 1497, entered the Gulf of Honduras on the 10th of June, coasted by Yucatan and Mexico, sailed up the Mississippi, and at the end of February, 1498, doubled the Cape of Florida, and, after anchoring for thirty-seven days at the mouth of the St. Lawrence, returned to Cadiz in October, 1498. If Vespucius really made such a marvellous voyage, his name is deservedly given to this continent. But the best writers, our author asserts, agree with Humboldt, that Vespucius' firsl voyage was that made with Hojeda. He made three other voyages, the last two in the service of Emmanuel, King of Portugal. This service he did not find lucrative, and on other accounts his position was not satisfactory. He therefore re- entered the service of the King of Spain, by whom he was made Piloto Mayor. Some valuable emoluments were attached to this appointment, which enabled him to end his days in comfort. He died at Seville, February 22nd, 15 12. One author says that Vespucius had nothing to do with the attachment of his name to the New World. " He was for a long time charged, though most unjustly, with impudence, falsehood, and deceit, it being alleged that he wished to veil the glory of Columbus, and to arrogate to him- self the honour of a discovery which did not belong to him. This was an utterly unfounded accusation, for Vespucius was both loved and esteemed by Columbus and his contemporaries, and there is nothing in his writings to justify this calumnious state- ment." Columbus discovered the New World. Da Gama sailed around the Cape of Good Hope to the far-distant Indies. Vespucius gave a name to the Western Continent Both Columbus and Vespucius died think- ing that they had reached Asia by the western passage. Of the magnitude of the SOME FAMOUS NAVIGATORS. 45 new continent no one was yet aware. America was thought to be a collection of islands, among which was sought the passage which would lead to the Pacific Ocean and to those Spice Islands the pos- session of which would have made the fortune of Spain. The solution of the problem was reserved for a Portuguese in the Spanish service, Ferdinand de Magellan. The exact place and date of Magellan's birth are unknown. He was the son of a gentleman of Cota e Armas, was born toward the end of the fifteenth century, and was brought up in the house of King John II., where he received as complete an education as could then be given him. He early embraced a maritime career, and made voyages to the Indies. He took part in the expedition sent by Albuquerque, about 15 10, to seek for the famous Spice Islands, and at this time landed at the Malaysian Islands, and in the Archipelago of the Moluccas obtained the circumstantial information which gave birth in his mind to the idea of the voyage which he was destined to accomplish later on. Subjected to slights and insults at the hands of King Emmanuel, Magellan pub- licly changed his nationality and became a citizen of Spain. After many delays and difficulties, the expedition of which he was given the command, and which was to dis- cover a route leading to the very centre of the spice production, and to be to the great prejudice of the trade of Portugal, sailed from the port of Seville, September 20th, 1 5 19. The fleet consisted of two vessels of 120 tons each, one of 90 tons, one of 85 tons, and one of 75 tons. Of these vessels, the Victoria, of 85 tons, completed the voyage around the world, anchoring before the mole at Seville, September 8th, 1521. The world circumnavigated in a ship hardly a third as large as many of our modern coasting schooners ! We have not space to follow the varying fortunes of this remarkable expedition. There was insubordination among the officers, there were tempests on the sea. December 13th they anchored in what is now known as the Bay of Rio Janeiro. The expedition wintered in St. Julian's Bay. Mutiny among the company was quelled only by the sternest measures. On the 24th of August, 1520, the squadron again put to sea. October 21st they entered the straits which now bear the name of the great navigator, and after a twenty-two days' voyage through them, sailed out upon the Pacific. For four months they sailed upon this great ocean without encountering a storm ; but their privations were excessive. Recruiting at what is now known as Samar Island, the expedition set out to explore the Malaysian Archipelago. It was at one of these islands, in a contest with the natives, that Magellan was killed, April 27th, 1 52 1. The expedition, reduced finally, as we have noted, to one vessel, returned to Spain. Eighteen men only were left when the Victoria reached Seville. Magellan had achieved the circumnavigation of the world, and had opened a new path for commerce — evidence, certainly, of his great ability as a navigator. " The glory of Magellan," says Pigatetta, the enthusiastic historian oi the expedition, " will survive his death." FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. THE EMANCIPATION OF THE £ERF£. very one had been long look- ing for the great event, but looking for its occurrence at some more distant day. Un- pleasant rumours were ever afloat ; and it was ever being alleged that new and insu- perable difficulties had arisen, in consequence of which the final settlement of the matter must be indefinitely post- poned. True, many had heard that the printing-presses of the Govern- ment were at work night and day, throwing off hundreds of thousands of the long-looked- for proclamation ; but it was felt that these rumours might be baseless reports, such as are in constant circulation in a populous city. Contrary to what is usually the case, in this instance the secret of Government was perfectly preserved. It was expedient that it should be so ; the occasion was extraordinary. At first the populace, — at least the populace in the metropolis, — seemed to receive the intelligence of the intended repeal of the law establishing serf- dom with deep interest ; but afterwards, as year after year passed away, and nothing was done, the interest lost much of its intensity amongst the multitude, who could have no idea of the complicated interests involved in the settlement of the matter. Many, being accustomed for long and tedious years to see to-day pass away like yesterday, and to-morrow like to-day without bringing any change, they had even ceased to believe in the possibility of so great a change being effected in the condition of the people. But at length, on the 5th day of the month of March, in the year 1861, an event oc- curred which will make this year so memor- able in Russia, that millions of her people will date from it as the epoch commencing a new era in the history of the nation. On this fifth day of March, which happened to be the last day of the carnival, at early morning prayers, a small body of worshippers, sons of toil who, even in those days of revelry, had not forsaken the temple of God, were privileged to be amongst the first to learn that the set time had come, and on that very day would their freedom be pro- claimed. At the conclusion of the service (says a Russian eye-witness), the priest, advancing amongst them, said, — " Ye orthodox ! Come again to church to-day, and after mass I will read in your hearing the Im- perial Edict, which will fill your hearts with joy — joy such as your fathers and your fathers' fathers did not even dare to dream of! Come, then, yet again to the temple of God, and honour this day by a quiet and sober gladness ; not giving yourselves up to that revelry unhappily so common on these holy days in which the Church is already commencing the services of Lent." The hearts of the more quick-witted of the hearers beat high on hearing this in- spiriting announcement ; others scarcely knew what these things meant ; but all. talking with subdued tones among them- selves, went to their several homes, each one bearing to their kindred these the glad tidings of great joy, which were still in- volved in a veil of mystery, intensifying the interest they created. The same announce- ment was doubtless made in all the churches of the metropolis ; and the joyful intelli- gence, passing from mouth to mouth, was speedily diffused through the dwellings of the rich and the poor alike, reaching at once the garret and the cellar, and filling with gladness the hearts of all who hear it, — as when on the Thursday in Passion Week, in accordance with Russian usage, every one carries from the church to his home a lighted taper, with which are lighted thousands of lamps and candles, lighting up at once the sleeping chambers of the THE EMANCIPATION OF THE SERFS. 47 nch and the smoky hut, the crowded attic, the dark damp cellar of the poor,— every- where, in short, where there was one of the orthodox carefully preserving the holy cus- toms of the olden times. Long before the commencement of the service, the people had begun to assemble in the church. Some were sitting in the porch, others within the church on benches in the recesses, but there was little speak- ing. Most sat in silence ; others quietly communicated to each other their views and feelings ; but deep thought was mani- fest on every countenance. The worship commenced. In all the ser- vice there was something unusually solemn. Whether it was that the priests were affected by the great announcement they were called to make to the people, or whether it only seemed so because the heart of the wor- shipper was in a state of expectancy of something great, it would be difficult to say, but so it was. In the holy words pro- nounced by the priest and the deacon, there was something unusually and profoundly affecting, and in the singing of the choir there was something unusually solemn ; and the people seemed to pray with greater fervour than ever before. There were two lads standing beside me, who kept pros- trating themselves unceasingly, and to me it seemed manifest that their honest faces spoke their prayer — an ardent prayer for freedom addressed to Him who purchased the freedom of every man by the shedding of His blood. The service being finished, three priests and a deacon, in their resplen- dent robes, came o it from the holy place and stood before the golden gates. The deacon then stepped forward with paper in hand, and the multitude rolled on towards the balustrade of the altar, which kept them aloof from the dais on which the clergy stood. I was in the very middle of the crowd ; but, to my surprise, I saw nothing of that pressing and squeezing generally witnessed in such circumstances. This arose, I sup- pose, from every one fearing to lose the opening words of the decree. Before the reading began, the silence was such, that one felt as if he could hear the beating of his neighbour's heart. I unintentionally turned round. What a scene presented itself all around me ! Thousands of most varied faces — faces of old and young — faces of males and females — faces of parties worn out with hard labour — and faces of parties full of strength and vigour of manhood, but faces mostly kind and mild in their expression, expressed in their diversified features one and the same feeling of the most profound attention. The clergy, in their richly decorated robes, stood before the open gates of the holy place, like messengers of peace and joy from heaven. Within the altar screen, where a certain air of mystery is induced by the exclusion of the worshippers, the candles on the altar were seen burning, quietly and joyously, brightly illuminating the saving cross and the holy Gospel — those first an- nouncements of salvation and freedom; and on the altar was seen the figure of the Saviour coming forth from the tomb, having burst the bands of death. It is not in vain that He spreads out His hands, His hands marked with wounds through which He was affixed to the cross, spread out as if bestowing His blessing on the liberated people. Where, in any heathen land, could such a peaceful, holy solemnity be possible? During the reading of the decree, which lasted nearly half an hour, not a rustle, nor a cough, not a moving of a boot-heel on the marble pavement of the church even broke the silence. Long must it be since any oration or discourse has called forth such intensified attention. Nor need we wonder. What could be more eloquent than the announcement of freedom pro- claimed from the steps of the Christian altar, before the open gates of salvation, and that at once to twenty-three millions of men ! But though the silence was unbroken during the reading of the decree, so soon as the deacon had pronounced these conclud- ing words, so full of meaning : — " Sign thy- self, O Christian nation ! with the sign of 4 s FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS the cross ; and, together with us, call for the blessing of God upon thy free labour," a broad, rushing wave seemed to roll through the church as a thousand hands made the sign of the liberating cross ; and the chains of slavery fell to the ground, never to be again replaced. It was a great, a holy, a truly Christian moment in the life of the Russian people. The deacon having finished reading, the concluding word, the signature of the Czar. " Alexander," loudly resounded through the arches of the church, and loudly was the name re-echoed by the hearts of the hearers. In that blessed name was pro- claimed the freedom of twenty-three millions of men ! That name has thrown back into the irrevocable past serfdom with all its barbarous accompaniments ; it has opened the gate of freedom to the future descend- ants of millions; it has divided the history of Russia into two eras. What must the Emperor have felt in that all-completing, all-confirming word ! When the reading of the decree was over, a solemn thanksgiving service began. I was myself so deeply moved by what I had seen and heard, that I could no longer observe the manifestation of feeling in others. Our Russian peasant, moreover, is not disposed to give outward manifesta- tion of his deep spiritual emotion. Often expressing himself with great vivacity about some trifling matter, he becomes still and silent when a deep, strong feeling lays hold of his heart ; the lively signs of passion then pass from his countenance, and he becomes serious and quiet ; and the deeper and stronger the feeling, the more com- pletely is it hidden in the heart of a Rus- sian ; like a wise householder, he shuts up and conceals the more precious, and leaves only the more trifling ordinary possessions in sight ; and thus nothing was to be seen but that these good people looked unusually solemn, and that they prayed with much greater fervency than is their wont. Beside me there stood a tall and strong hale ol'd man, and with him a boy of about twelve years of age, apparently the son, or, it may be, the grandson of the old man. Both were in sheepskin shoobes. The face of the old man was grave and thoughtful ; the fine frank face of the boy was radiant with joy, while his hands, which were strong and unusually developed for his years, tho- roughly engrained with black, showed that it was only on a holiday he could look out- side his blacksmith's shop, and rejoice in God's light. At the commencement of the thanksgiving service, both the old man and the boy prostrated themselves several times, and after this the serious look of the old man became changed somewhat ; he looked down on the boy with remarkable tender- ness, and passed his wrinkled and horny hand over the head of the child. I could see that the hand was trembling ; nor is it difficult to conceive of what was expressed by the involuntary movement ! On leaving the church I heard, as I passed through the crowd, several short and unconnected exclamations such as these : — " Glory be to God ! we have lived to see the day at last ! God grant many happy years to our father the Czar ! " " He has kept his word : the word of the Czar never fails ! " " He has remembered us ! now we must pray, and pray earnestly to God ! " Such were the shouts and remarks heard from the crowd. " Ay ! but did you hear, Two years yet V said a young sledge- driver, to his companion. " How or why should it be otherwise?" was the ready reply. ''You would have it all done out of hand at once, would you ? Why, you yourself take some three hours simply to harness your horse ! " In the street, a young lad, a workman in some factory, apparently worse for liquor, attempted to call out " Hurrah ! " but im- mediately there was heard on all sides of him such reproofs as these : — " What are you giving tongue for there ? " " Why are you bawling, you drunken fellow ? " " Oh, the wretch ! to get muddled on this day / " Such were the reproofs showered on him from all sides ; and his attempts at a noisy demonstration completely failed. "What are you snapping at ? " he growled between THE EMANCIPATION OF THE SERFS. 49 THE GREAT BELL OF MOSCOW. his teeth ; and, as if thoroughly ashamed of himself, he staggered off home. The sun was shining brightly, and the warm breath of spring was in the air. On leaving the church I had all the feelings of an Easter morning. I hastened home to congratulate my family on the liberation of the serfs. Such greetings were borne from the churches into many a home by thou- sands of Russians ; and in a few days the joyful tidings spread over the whole of the Russian land — from the Niemen to the Ural, and from the White to the Black Seas ! In the chronicles of Russia there is not recorded a brighter, a more Christian day ! God bless the author of this great joy and gladness to the Russian oeoole — the author of this truly Christian triumph. FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. an achievement of which Russians and man- kind at large may ever be proud ! Never, in former years, did the latter days of the carnival pass so quietly and soberly as on this memorable occasion. To the surprise of every one, scarcely was a drunken man to be seen in the streets ; while on the same day last year one could not take a step without meeting some noisy, tipsy crowd. On the following morning a friend of mine, a foreigner, called on me, and the conversation naturally turned on the event of the day. "You Russians," said he, "are a strange people ! An event so important, one for which you have been waiting ap- parently with great impatience, has at length broken upon you, and there was not the slightest demonstration / Yesterday, I drove about the town the whole day, expecting to see something extraordinary, but there was nothing." " Oh, yes," said I, " there was a demon- stration, only you did not remark it." "Was there, indeed? Where? How? What sort of a one ? I saw nothing of it." " A very original one certainly," was my reply. " Yesterday, the last day of the carnival, usually a day of revelry and drunk- enness, the gin shops were empty, and the churches were full ! They say the spirit- dealers are greatly disconcerted by the pub- lication of the decree on such a day ; and I myself heard one of them reckoning up the enormous profits he had expected to make on the day of the publication, and telling bitterly how completely he had been disap pointed ! " " Do you know," said my friend, con- tinuing the conversation, " I could not help thinking, yesterday, that, while with you this truly great work has been accomplished quietly and without disturbance, on the other side of the globe a great empire has fallen to pieces, and a bloody struggle is commencing in connection with the same question — that of slavery and freedom." EDWARD BAINES, OF LEEDS. dward Eaines was descended from a class of society, which, though somewhat undefined, has both an historic and poetic interest — the bold "yeomen of England." His father, however, had forsaken the farm for the shop and the loom, and Edward was born on the 5th of February, 1774, at a village in the beautiful valley of the Ribble, about a mile from Preston. He was a healthy and sprightly lad, full of mirth and mischief. The poet Wordsworth was his schoolfellow at the Free Grammar School at Hawkshead, a small town among the Lakes — a neigh- bourhood, amidst the solitude of which the ea<£le still dwelt. "What a place for 2 dreaming, sensitive boy ! " says one of Wordsworth's biographers. " There winter lingered late, and the frost and snow came early ; around the village the mountain- streams tumbled and thundered, and gave refreshment to a race of people hardy and simple as their native hills/' Whether the scenery of the Lake district produced any impression on the youthful heart of the future man of business, as on that of the future poet, we are not informed. But a family tradition has preserved an oracle uttered by his master, that " he would either be a great man or be hanged." And one of the adventures of his after boyhood seems to justify the prophecy. The master of the Preston Free Grammar School was a pompous, ill-educated man, who smote his pupils liberally with cane and tongue EDWARD BAINES, OF LEEDS. 5* In one of those juvenile rebellions well known of old as a " barring out," the doors of the school were fastened with huge nails, and one of the younger lads was let out to obtain supplies of food for the garrison. The rebellion having lasted two or three days, the mayor, town-clerk, and officers were sent to intimidate the offenders. Young Baines, on the part of the besieged, answered the magisterial summons to sur- render, by declaring that they would never give in unless assured of full pardon, and a certain length of holidays. With much good sense the mayor gave them till the evening to consider ; and on his second visit the doors were found open, the garrison having fled to the woods of Penwortham. They regained their respective homes under the cover of night ; and through some in- terposition they escaped the punishment they had deserved. At this period of his life the spirit of frolic and adventure was very strong in Edward Baines. Stories are told of the mayor's halberds being abstracted and thrown into the reservoir of the waterworks ; and the youth passed one night in prison for frightening a lady by firing a pistol over her head. When his boyish pranks were laid aside, and he and his companions were put to business, and began to employ their leisure in reading and debating, five of them formed the project of emigration, and planned the establishment of a superior academy on the other side of the Atlantic. Young Baines was to be at the head of the establishment; one of the number was to be professor of botany, another of music, and so on. The scheme had been elabo- rated for some time, maps consulted, and pocket-money saved ; but the amount of their practical wisdom may be judged from the resources with which the expedition was undertaken. One of them had saved six- teen shillings, another fifteen, and the other three smaller sums. A few years later, Coleridge, Southey, and their friends, formed a project more visionary still, which was to be realized on the same American shores — the establishment of a republic in Illinois. Baines and his friends actually left Pres- ton one Sunday morning on foot for Liver- pool, whence they hoped easily to get con- veyed to America. And it was not till they had exhausted their small store that they ventured to face their parents and acknow- ledge their folly. Penniless they returned from Liverpool to Preston on the Friday after their departure, and crept into their several homes, considerably humbled and wiser than when they left. Edward Baines chose the business of a printer, and became a diligent and expert workman. In this occupation, and in the debating society in which he and his friends spent their leisure, his intellectual character was rapidly developed. In him, as in many others, the child was father to the man. And already the desire for improvement in all matters, personal and public, which characterized him through life, was strong. Two years before the termination of his apprenticeship, Edward Baines, with the consent of his master, left his native town in search of greater scope for improvement and advancement. In 1795, the frugal apprentice, stout of heart and limb, travelled on foot from Preston to Leeds with his bundle on his arm. From Clitheroe he crossed the hills into Yorkshire alone, with no companion but his staff, and all his worldly wealth in his pocket. In after years he often referred to the touching acknow- ledgment of trie patriarch, and with like gratitude and humility : " I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies, and of all the truth, which Thou hast showed unto Thy servant ; for with my staff I passed over this Jordan, and now I am become two bands." Wayworn, young Baines reached Leeds, and finding the shop of Messrs. Binns & Brown, he inquired if they had room for an apprentice to finish his time. The stranger was carelessly referred to the foreman ; and as he entered the Mercury office, he inwardly resolved that if he should gain admittance there he would never leave it. In a few years comparatively the office and newspaper became his own, and so con- tinued till his death. FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. Edward Baines had now reached man's estate, and his character was assuming the mould which it ever after retained. Trans- planted to a new soil, and henceforth de- pendant wholly on himself, he acquired the self-reliance and prudence which, with good principles and the blessing of God, consti- tute the main elements of success in life. Being received into the Leeds Mercury office, his industry, good conduct, and obliging disposition, won the esteem and confidence of his employers. His maxim was, that whatever is worth doing is worth doing well. He laid the foundation of future success as a master in the thorough know- ledge and performance of the duties of a workman. His tastes were simple, his habits strictly temperate, and his companion- ships virtuous. He sought the society of intellectual men in a " Reasoning Society," like that to which he had belonged at Preston. Though characterized by its pre- sident as a " diamond in the rough," he was amiable and genial, and if rudely treated would reply facetiously and with gentle satire. His pleasant humour and hearty laugh proved that "the fullest enjoyment of all innocent amusement is compatible with unwearied application to business, and needs not the fool's stimulant of liquor or licen- tiousness." This was in 1797. In 1 80 1 Mr. Baines became proprietor and editor of the Leeds Mercury. At that period, like other provincial papers, the Mercury was insignificant both in dimen- sions and in influence. Before his death it had become one of the most powerful organs of the English provincial press. In 1801, a single copy contained about 21,000 words; in 1848, a single copy contained 180,000. From the date of his connection with the Mercury as its proprietor, Mr. Baines was a public man, and took an active, earnest, and prominent part in the political and social questions of the day. His life is identified with the history of the largest county of England, and one of the greatest seats of industry, during fifty years cC extraordinary improvement. Lline-and-thirty years after Edward Baines had entered Leeds, a poor apprentice in search of employment, he was invited by his fellow-townsmen to represent them in the senate of the nation, and when he left Leeds to take his seat in the House of Commons, he had the honour of a popular demonstration. If he had any affectation in his altered circumstances, he said, " it should be an affectation of economy and simplicity of manners and appearance both in his domestic concerns and all others. The contrary conduct has been fatal to the character and independence of many public men ; but (he said) by the blessing of God guiding and directing me, it shall never be fatal to me or mine." To this resolution he adhered throughout his parliamentary course, and indeed to the end of his life. The simplicity of his habits was unchanged, and he found by experience that the best safeguard for independence is to restrict one's wants. At three successive elections Mr. Baines was returned to Parliament as member for Leeds : and for eight years he devoted his untiring energies to the dis- charge of his public functions ; his integrity and conscientiousness constraining the esteem even of those who differed most from some of his opinions. Life with Mr. Baines had been real and earnest, but in the review it was like a dream ; and he was brought somewhat suddenly to the point where things seen lose all their importance, and things unseen become the only realities. Edward Baines has often been called " the Benjamin Franklin of Leeds." And the points of resemblance between them both in character and in history, are numerous and striking. But we now come to a point, where, instead of resemblance, we find contrast. The truth is, that Benjamin Franklin, one of the most sagacious of men in all that concerns this life, was contented to enter on eternity, with less care to examine the grounds of his hope and the character of his prospects regarding it than he would have thought necessary in the settlement of any question involving temporal interests. He early saw that some religion was ne- ED IV ARB BAINES, OF LEEDS. 53 cessary to the earthly well-being of men, in- dispensable to the safe and right working of society ; and ever after his almost boyish days he evidently considered the man who attacked Christianity as doing that which was inimical to the best interests of his fellow-men. He wrote on the obligation and benefits of worship and other religious observances, and subscribed to the erection of churches, but seldom entered them. To the last his religion was vague and unsatis- factory. Beyond the principles of natural religion, nothing seemed thoroughly ascer- tained and settled. With a Bible in his hand whose truth and excellence he ad- mitted, he was content to leave in a great measure unexamined and unsettled the precise character of its contents and the full extent of its authority. It was this world, this state, which filled his heart and mind. The portal of existence was ex- ! amined with curious and prying eyes ; its stones, its cement, its very dust, were all taken careful note of, but there were few thoughts for the vast edifice beyond. Far otherwise was it with Edward Baines. He lived to be seventy-five years of age ; and when he died, with an honourable oblivion of party distinctions, the inhabit- ants of Leeds lamented Mr. Baines as a good man, and a public benefactor, and vast numbers almost as a father. By a spontaneous movement, his funeral was made a public one. Many thousands thronged to witness the solemn ceremony ; and among the many sincere mourners, few were more truly so than the poorest of the poor, who joined their tears with those of his family, and felt that they had lost a father and a friend. 54 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. £IF( EDWIN LANDSEER, E are told the grandfather of Sir Edwin settled as a jeweller in London in the middle of the last century ; and here, it is said, his father, Mr. John Landseer, was born in 1761, though another account fixes Lincoln as his birthplace, and his birth itself at a later date. John Landseer became an engraver, rose to eminence in his line of art, became an Associate of the Royal Academy, and having held that position for nearly fifty years, died in 1852. He was largely em- ployed in engraving pictures for the lead- ing publishers, including Macklin, who engaged him on the illustrations to his " Bible " ; this employment led to his marriage with a Miss Pott, a great friend of the Macklins, and whose portrait as a peasant girl, with a sheaf of corn upon her head, was painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence. The issue of this marriage consisted of three daughters and also of three sons — Thomas, born in or about the year 1795; Charles, born in 1799; and Edwin, the youngest, in [802. The artistic education of Edwin Land- seer was commenced at an early age under the eye of his father, who, after the example of the greatest masters, directed him to the study of nature herself, and sent him con- stantly to Hampstead Heath and other suburban localities to make studies of donkeys, sheep, and goats. A series of early drawings and etchings from his hand, preserved in the South Kensington Museum, will serve to show how faithful and true an interpreter of nature the future Academician was even more than half a century since, for some of his efforts are dated as early as his eighth year, so that he is a standing proof that precocity does not always imply subsequent failure. Indeed, he drew ani- mals correctly and powerfully even before he was five years old ! His first appearance, however, as a painter dates from 181 5, when, at the age of thirteen, he exhibited two paintings at the Academy — " Portrait of a Mule " and " Portraits of a Pointer Bitch and Puppy," and the young painter appears as Master E. Landseer, 33, Foley Street. In the following year he was one of the exhibitors at " the Great Room in Spring Gardens," then engaged for " the Society of Painters in Oil and Water Colours," along with De Wint, Chalon, and the elder Pugin ; about the same time, too, we find him receiving regular instruction in art as a pupil in the studio of Haydon, and the residence of the family in Foley Street was the very centre of a colony of artists and literary celebrities. Mulready, Stothard, Benjamin West, A. E. Chalon, Collins, Constable, Daniel, Flax- man, and Thomas Campbell, all lived within a few hundred yards of John Land- seer's house ; and from their society young Landseer, we may be sure, took care to draw profit and encouragement. He also derived considerable assistance from a study of the Elgin marbles at Burlington House, where they lay for some time before finding a home in the British Museum. These ancient treasures he was led to study by the advice of his teacher, Haydon. In the same year (18 16) he was admitted as a student to the Royal Academy. In the following year he exhibited " Brutus, a portrait of a Mastiff, " at the Academy, and also a " Portrait of an Alpine Mastiff," at the Gallery in Spring Gardens already mentioned. With the year 181 8 commenced an im- portant epoch in the life of Landseer. His " Fighting Dogs Getting Wind " excited an extraordinary amount of attention ; and, being purchased by Sir George Beaumont, it set the stream of fashion in his favour. SIR EDWIN Sir David Wilkie, writing to Haydon at this date, remarked, as much in earnest as in jest, "Young Landseer's jackasses are good,"' " The Cat Disturbed " was young Land- seer's chief picture in 1819; it was ex- hibited at the Royal Institution ; here, also, were exhibited about the same date his " Lion enjoying his Repast," and a com- panion picture, a " Lion disturbed at his Repast." In these paintings it is not fanciful or absurd to say that an educated eye can detect the hand of the designer of the lions which guard the Nelson Monu- ment in Trafalgar Square. His opportunity for studying the anatomy of the lion had arisen shortly before, we are told, through the death of one of the old lions in Exeter 'Change, and his subsequent dissection in Landseer's presence. In 1 82 1 he exhibited at the Academy his "Ratcatchers," which was subsequently engraved by his brother Thomas ; and at the British Institution another sporting picture, entitled " Pointers, So-ho." In 1822 he was fortunate enough to obtain the premium of ^"150 from the directors of the British Institution for his celebrated picture "The Larder Invaded." This was followed next year by "The Watchful Sentinel," contributed to the Exhibition of the British Institution, now in the Sheep- shanks Gallery at South Kensington, and styled " The Angler's Guard." It repre- sents a large brown and white Newfound- land dog and a white Italian greyhound seated and keeping strict watch and ward over a fishing rod and basket. In 1824 he exhibited, also at the Royal Institution, " The Cat's Paw," which, we believe, hangs, or hung, in the dining-room at Cashiobury, the seat of Lord Essex, in Hertfordshire. 4t Taking a Buck," " The Widow," and a stray " Portrait " were Landseer's contribu- tions to the Academy in 1825, and in the same summer his " Poacher " was hung on the walls of the British Institution. In the following season was shown at the Academy his "Hunting of Chevy Chase," an im- portant picture, which has often been ex- LANDSEER. 55 hibited since. In the same year Landseer removed to the house in St. John's-wood Road, where he fixed his studio to the last. In 1826 he exhibited at the Royal Institu- tion the picture of " The Dog and the Shadow." It was about this time that, being asked by Lord and Lady Holland to sit for his portrait to Landseer, Sydney Smith sent the well-known reply, "Is thy servant a dog that he should do this thing ? " It can scarcely be supposed that it was merely the exhibition of " Chevy Chase " which led to Edwin Landseer's election at this time to an Associateship of the Royal Academy. The fact is that the honour was anticipated long before, and that the election was made almost as a matter of course immediately on his attain- ing the age of four and twenty — the limit prescribed by the laws of the Academy. It may be interesting to our readers to know that the only other artists to whom a like compliment has been paid are Sir Thomas Lawrence and Mr. J. E. Millais. It was in this year that Landseer paid his first visit to the Highlands— a district of which it may be said with truth that for more than thirty years he was the prophet and interpreter, and from which he drew more subjects than from any other, illustrat- ing its men, its animals, and its landscapes with almost unvaried success. "The Chief's Return from Deer-stalking," exhibited at the Academy in 1827, may be regarded as the firstfruits alike of this northern tour and of his Associateship. Together with this appeared his " Monkey who had Seen the World," showing the reunion of "Pug" and his untravelled friends at home. Meantime, in spite of his election to the Academy, he proved that he did not for- get his acquaintances and friends at the British Institution, to which he contributed, in the same year, another picture of " Chevy Chase," and "A Scene at Abbotsford," representing Sir Walter Scott's favourite dog Maida reclining by a piece of ancient armour. The year 1828 was one of com- parative rest to Landseer — at all events, it FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. was productive of no contribution to the exhibitions of the day; but in 1829 he produced his " Illicit Whisky Still in the Highlands," and " A Fireside Party," in which the terriers which figure as the prin- cipal characters are said to have been the original "Peppers and Mustards" so graphically described in " Guy Mannering," by Sir Walter Scott. The year 1830 witnessed the election of Landseer to the full honours of the Aca- demy; and from that date to the end of his long career there is little for a bio- grapher to do but to chronicle a long and regular catalogue of pictures year by year, exhibited either at the British Institution or else on the walls of the Academy. The numerous pictures exhibited by Landseer during the first ten years after he began to write the letters " R.A " after his name were almost all of them great favourites at their first appearance, and are well known to the world by the engravings of them. They may be regarded as mark- ing the perfection of Landseer's style. With the year 185 1 the Highland sketches occur less frequently, and there is a corre- sponding increase in ideal subjects in the published list of Landseer's works. "A Flood in the Highlands " — his only con- tribution to the Academy Exhibition in i860 — will long be remembered for its pathos and truth to life. The closing decade of Landseer's artistic career shows but little falling off from the preceding, either in the number or in the power of its productions. Many of them will crowd with more or less vividness and freshness on the reader's memory as he peruses this brief biography of him who in his day was deservedly called " the Shake- speare of the world of dogs." It appears from the annual catalogues that from the very first Landseer was one of the most regular and constant exhibitors at the Academy, for from his first appearance on its walls in 1815 down to the year 1873 his name is absent on only seven occasions — namely, in 1816, 1841, 1852, 1855, 1862, 1863, and 187 1. But even this statement fails to do justiceto his indefatigable industry as a painter, for, between 1818 and 1865, he exhibited at the British Institution no less than 90 pictures, including some of his most popular efforts, such as "The Twa Dogs," "The Sleeping Bloodhound," "The Eagle's Nest," " Well-bred Sitters," and " Dear Old Boz," painted for Her Majesty. To this list must be added four other pictures exhibited with the Society of British Artists between the years 1826 and 1832, and also nine more exhibited in his early days, be- tween 18 1 6 and 1820, on the walls of the Society of Painters in Oil and Water Colours, in Spring Gardens. His contri- butions to the Royal Academy Exhibition in 1870 were five in number : " Voltigeur," the winner of the Derby and St. Leger ; " Deer : a Study " ; " Lassie : a Sketch " ; and two pictures already mentioned. The name of Sir Edwin Landseer does not occur in the catalogue of 187 1, as illness had then paralysed his powerful and charm- ing pencil. He exhibited in 1872 and T873, but the works were scarcely worthy of his fame and reputation. It is not our purpose, nor, indeed, would it be possible, here to enter into any minute and detailed criticism on the works of Land- seer. His paintings are well known in the household of every educated man through the length and breadth of the land. His sculptured lions at the foot of the Nelson Column in Trafalgar Square, are so well known to the public that we need only allude to them here. In 1850 he received from Her Majesty the honour of knighthood. He received also the large gold medal from the authori- ties of the Universal Exhibition of Paris in 1855. A few years ago, upon the death of Sir Charles Eastlake, he was offered the Presidency of the Royal Academy, but his modesty led him to decline the distinction. In private life he was one of the most kind and courteous of men and the warmest of friends ; and in very many circles, from royalty downwards, people missed with regret his round, merry, genial face, his white hair, and his pleasant smile. JOHN MILTON. 57 JOHN /4ILT0N. ohn Milton was born in London on the 9th day of December, 1608. His father, in early life, had suffered for conscience' sake, hav- ing been disinherited upon his abjuring the popish faith. He pursued the laborious profession of a scrivener, and having realized an ample fortune, retired into the country to enjoy it. Educated at Oxford, he gave his son the best education that the age afforded. At first, young Milton had the benefit of a private tutor ; from him he was removed to St. Paul's School. Nex' he proceeded to Christ's College, Cambridge ; and finally, after several years' preparation by extensive reading, he pursued a course of continental travel. Every passenger Uirough St. Paul's Churchyard must have noticed the dark im- prisoned court, under the colonnade, oppo- site to the east end of the cathedral. It makes itself known at times as the playing place of the boys in St. Paul's School, by the sportive shouts and the bursts of glee which issue from between the close iron rails. St. Paul's School in the first quarter of the seventeenth century was quite an other sort of building. A gothic edifice in the Tudor style then stood there, pro- bably with open courts patched over with a little green ; and hither wended from the Spread Eagle, "with satchel on back," and there played with his long-since-forgotten schoolfellows, the bard of Paradise. The boy was studious, and, when only twelve years of age, many a time did he sit up till 53 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. midnight, conning his books, thus not only laying the foundation of his marvellous scholarship, but of his blindness too. Nor was his muse unfledged even then. Ere eleven summers had rolled over him, he would sing of " the golden-tressed sun," " the spangled sisters of the night," and "the thunder-clasping hand of the Al- mighty." In 1632, having taken the degree of M.A., Milton finally quitted the University, leaving behind him a very brilliant reputa- tion, and a general goodwill in his own college. His father had now retired from London, and lived upon his own estate at Horton, in Buckinghamshire. In this rural solitude Milton passed the next five years, resorting to London only at rare intervals, for the purchase of books and music. His time was chiefly occupied with the study of Greek and Roman, and, no doubt, also of Italian literature. But that he was not negligent of composition, and that he ap- plied himself with great zeal to the culture of his native literature, we have a splendid record in his " Comus," which, upon the strongest presumptions, is ascribed to this period of his life. In the same neighbour- hood, and within the same five years, it is believed that he produced also the " Ar- cades " and the " Lycidas," together with " L'Allegro " and " II Penseroso." In 1637 Milton's mother died, and in the following year he commenced his travels. The state of Europe confined his choice of ground to France and Italy. The former excited in him but little interest. After a short stay at Paris he pursued the direct route to Nice, where he embarked for Genoa, and thence proceeded to Pisa, Florence, Rome, and Naples. He origin- ally meant to extend his tour to Sicily and Greece, but the news of the first Scotch war having now reached him, agitated his mind with too much patriotic sympathy to allow of his embarking on a scheme of such uncertain duration. Yet his homeward movements were not remarkable for expedi- tion. He had already spent two months in Florence, and as many in Rome, yet he devoted the same space of time to each of them on his return. From Florence he proceeded to Lucca, and thence, by Bo- logna and Ferrara, to Venice, where he remained one month, and then pursued his homeward route through Verona, Milan, and Geneva. He had conversed with Galileo ; he had seen whatever was most interesting in the monuments of Roman grandeur, or the triumphs of Italian art ; and he could report with truth that, in spite of his religion, everywhere undissem- bled, he had been honoured by the atten- tions of the great and by the compliments of the learned. After fifteen months of absence, Milton found himself again in London at a crisis of unusual interest. The king was on the eve of his second expedition against the Scotch, and we may suppose Milton to have been watching the course of events with profound anxiety, not without some anticipation of the patriotic labour which awaited him. Meantime he occupied him- self with the education of his sister's two sons, and soon after, by way of obtaining an honourable maintenance, increased the number of his pupils. He was now lodging at a tailor's in St. Bride's Churchyard, and here he made the acquaintance of Patrick Young, the librarian of Charles I. But " he made no long stay at his lodging in St. Bride's Churchyard ; necessity of having a place to dispose his books in, and other goods fit for the furnishing of a good hand- some house, hastening him to take one; and accordingly a pretty garden house he took in Aldersgate Street, at the end of an entry, and therefore the fitter for his turn, by reason of the privacy, besides that there are few streets in London more free from noise than that." Aldersgate Street free from noise ! a garden house there ! At Whitsuntide, in the year 1645, having reached his thirty-fifth year, he married Mary Powell, a young lady of good extrac- tion in the county of Oxford, but " accus- tomed to a great deal of company, merri- ment, and dancing, and little fitted, there- fore, to sympathise with him in his severe JOHN MILTON. 59 tastes and classic sort of life." One month after he allowed his wife to visit her family. When summoned back to her home, she refused to return. Upon this provocation, Milton set himself seriously to consider the extent of the obligations imposed by the nuptial vow, and came to the conclusion that in point of conscience it was not less dissoluble for hopeless incompatibility of temper than for positive adultery, and that human laws, in as far as they opposed this principle, called for reformation. These views he laid before the public in his Doc- trine and Discipline of Divorce. Meantime the lady, whose rash conduct had provoked her husband into these specu- lations, saw reason to repent of her indis- cretion, and finding that Milton held her desertion to have cancelled all claims upon his justice, wisely resolved upon making her appeal to his generosity. This appeal was not made in vain ; in a single interview at the house of a common friend, in St. Martin's-le-Grand, where she had contrived to surprise him, and suddenly to throw her- self at his feet, he granted her a full forgive- ness ; and so little did he allow himself to remember her misconduct, or that of her family, in having countenanced her deser- tion, that soon afterwards, when they were involved in the general ruin of the royal cause, he received the whole of them into his house, and exerted his political influ- ence very freely in their behalf. Fully to appreciate this behaviour, we must recollect that Milton was not rich, and that no part of his wife's marriage-portion (^iooo) was ever paid to him. We next find him in Lincoln's Inn Fields. His removal there occurred just after the march of the army to London, in 1647, to put down an insurrection which had been excited by Massey and Brown. Early in 1649 the king was put to death. For a full account of the state of the parties which led to this memorable event, we must refer the reader to the history of the times. In 1649 the Council of State had resolved no longer to employ the language of a rival people in their international concerns, but to use the Latin tongue as a neutral and indifferent instrument. The office of Latin Secretary, therefore, was created, and be- stowed upon Milton. His hours from henceforth must have been pretty well occupied by official labours. Yet at this time he undertook a service to the State, more invidious, and perhaps more perilous, than any in which his politics ever involved him. On the very day of the king's exe- cution, and even below the scaffold, had been sold the earliest copies of a work admirably fitted to shake the new Govern- ment, and, for the sensation which it has engendered, one of the most remarkable known in literary history. This was the " Eikon Basilike, or Royal Image," profess- ing to be a series of meditations drawn up by the late king, on the leading events from the very beginning of the national troubles. Milton drew up a running commentary upon each separate head of the original ; and as that had been entitled the king's image, he gave to his own the title of " Eikonoclastes, or Image-breaker," " the famous surname of many Greek emperors, who broke all superstitious images in pieces." He now removed to Petty France, now York Street, to a " house next door to the Lord Scudamore's, and opening into St. James's Park." The garden formerly opened upon the park, in what is now called Bird-cage Walk. It was never a large house, and shows that the illustrious Secre- tary of the Foreign Department did not then live in much splendour. His salary was only ^280 a year. In 1651 his wife died, after she had given him three daughters. Looking over this house, it is touching to remember that here his blindness became complete. A letter, dated September 28th, 1654, probably written in one of these very rooms, gives an account of the rise and progress of this sad malady. " It is now about ten years," he says, " since I first perceived my sight beginning to grow weak and dim. When I sat down, my eyes gave me considerable pain. If I looked at a FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. 60 candle, it was surrounded with an iris. In a little time a darkness covered the left side of the left eye, which was partially r.louded some years before the other inter- cepted the view of all things in that direc- tion. Objects in front seemed to dwindle in size whenever I closed my right eye. This eye too, for three years gradually failing, a few months previous to my total blindness, while I was perfectly stationary, everything seemed to swim backward and forward, and now thick vapours appear to settle on my forehead and temples, which weigh down my lids with an oppressive sense of drowsiness, especially in the inter- val between dinner and the evening. I ought not to omit mentioning that before I wholly lost my sight, as soon as I lay down in bed, and turned upon either side, bril- liant flashes of light used to issue from my closed eyes ; and afterwards, upon the gradual failure of my powers of vision, colours proportionably dim and faint seemed to rush out with a degree of vehemence and a kind of inward noise. These have now faded into uniform blackness, such as ensues on the extinction of a candle, or blackness varied only and intermingled with a dimmish grey. The constant dark- ness, however, in which I live day and night inclines more to a whitish than a blackish tinge, and the eye in turning itself round admits, as through a narrow chink, a very small portion of light." How very affecting is this detail, especially the allu- sion to the " narrow chink " which remained in the dark shutter folded over the windows of the eye, to admit mementoes cf the precious gift he had for ever lost. But his soul bows with Christian patience to the Divine behest : ' ' Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope ; but still bear up, and steer Right onward." The lustre of his dark grey eye did not fade after blindness had smitten it. His portrait brings him before us, with light brown bair parted in the middle and clustering on the shoulders, and a coun- tenance which, till manhood was advanced, retained its youthful ruddy hue. The loss of sight was, in a measure, compensated by the exquisite acuteness of his hearing. He judged, as blind men are wont to do, of people's appearance by their voice. " His ears," says Richardson, " were now eyes to him." No doubt, in that home next Lord Scudamore's, Milton had his organ and bass viol, and would cheer the hours of his unintermitting darkness by music, for which he had a taste by nature. Milton's voice is said to have been sweet and harmonious, and he would frequently accompany the instruments on which he played. In 1655 he resigned his office of Secre- tary, in which he had latterly been obliged to use an assistant. Some time before this period he had married his second wife, Catherine Wood- cock, to whom it is supposed that he was very tenderly attached. In 1657 she died in child-birth, together with her child, an event which he has recorded in a very beautiful sonnet. This loss, added to his blindness, must have made his home, for some years, desolate and comfortless. In the spring of 1660 the Restoration was accomplished amidst the tumultuous rejoicings of the people. It was certain that the vengeance of Government would lose no time in marking victims, for some of them in anticipation had already fled. Milton wisely withdrew from the first fury of the persecution which now descended on his party. Probably it was early after the Restoration, and while living in Hol- born, near Red Lion Square, and then in Jewin Street, that he was not only in dark- ness, but " with dangers compassed round," fearing assassination from some royalist hand, sleeping ill and restlessly. In the latter place he married his third wife ; and there Ellwood, the Quaker, is introduced to him — the kind, patient Ellwood, who sits for hours reading Latin with a foreign ac- cent, and sometimes little understanding what he reads, far the recreation of his now poor but illustrious friend. But highly honoured was that same Ellwood when the JOHN MILTON IN HIS BLINDNESS. 62 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. great poet put into his hands a manuscript, asking his opinion of it, which proved to be the " Paradise Lost." That scene was a little cottage at Chalfont, in Buckingham- shire, where Milton had gone during the plague ; but in Jewin Street, probably, the great poem was nearly brought to its com- pletion. It was the work of years. Every former strain prepared for it. Prelusive touches had there been from boyhood of rich, sweet, solemn harmony ; but in "Paradise Lost " came out the prolonged oratorio, swelling forth from the organ of his soul in notes of bird-like sweetness, in tones of deep-pealed thunder. The history of it is, probably, associated with most of the previous residences of Milton, but in Jewin Street it was nearly perfected ; and in our mind wakens some echo of the poet's song whenever we walk along the pavement of that most unpoetic region. The general interruption of business in London, occa- sioned by the plague, and prolonged by the great fire in 1666, explain why the publica- tion was delayed for nearly two years. The contract with the publisher is dated . April 26th, 1667, and in the course of that year the "Paradise Lost" was published. Ori- ginally it was printed in ten books ; in the second and subsequent editions the seventh and tenth books were each divided into two. Milton received only five pounds in the first instance on the publication of the book. His further profits were regu- lated by the sale of the three first editions. Each was to consist of fifteen hundred copies, and on the second and third respec- tively reaching a sale of thirteen hundred, he was to receive a further sum of five pounds for each, making a total of fifteen pounds. The receipt of the second sum of five pounds is dated April 26th, 1669. In 1670 Milton published his " History of Britain," and in the same year he published in one volume " Paradise Regained " and " Samson Agonistes." Milton's biographers enable us to trace his daily life. He rises early ; has a chapter in the Hebrew Bible read to him ; then meditates till seven ; till twelve he listens to reading, in which .he employs his daughters ; then takes exercise, and some- times swings in his little garden. After a frugal dinner, he enjoys some musical re- creation ; at six he welcomes friends ; takes supper at eight ; and then, having smoked a pipe and drunk a glass of water, he retires to repose. That repose is sometimes broken by poetic musings, and he rouses up his daughter that he might dictate to her some lines before they are lost. Although neglected by the great among his countrymen, illustrious foreigners search out the man whose literary fame is heard through Europe ; and many who came before the fire of London, ere they left our shores, found the house in Bread Street, with the sign of the spread eagle, for even then it was thought a privilege to enter Milton's birthplace. One Englishman of rank, however, is said to have visited him, but the visit was most unworthy in its motive. The Duke of York, as the story goes, expressed a wish to his brother Charles II. to see old Milton, of whom so much was said. The king had no objec- tion, and soon the duke was on his way to the poet's house, where, on introducing himself, a free conversation took place between these very " discordant characters." The duke asked Milton whether he did not consider his blindness to be a judgment inflicted on him for writing against the late king. " If your highness thinks," he replied, " that the calamities which befall us here are indications of the wrath of Heaven, in what manner are we to account for the fate of the king, your father? The displeasure of Heaven must, upon this supposition, have been much greater against him than against me, for I have only lost my eyes, but he lost his head." The duke, disconcerted by the answer, went his way. Milton's end was now approaching. In the summer of 1674 he was still cheerful and in possession of his intellectual faculties ; but the vigour of his bodily constitution had been silently giving way through a long course of years to the ravages of gout. It 1 was at length thoroughly undermined; and THE BUILDER OF EDD Y STONE LIGHTHOUSE. 63 about the 10th of November, 1674, he died with tranquillity so profound that his attend- ants were unable to determine the exact moment of his decease. He was buried, with unusual marks of honour, in the chancel of St. Giles' at Cripplegate. Milton's last resting-place is one of the old ecclesiastical structures which escaped the fire of London. It contains the ashes of John Foxe, the martyrologist, and John Speed, the historian ; the mural tablet to the memory of the former, and the effigy which brings before us the grave face and quaint costume of the latter, adorn the right side of the chancel within the altar rails. But from these and other monuments we turn, to look at the bust of Milton, placed to the left as you enter the church, on the third pillar from the east end. The spot beneath, now covered with a spacious pew, has been pretty well identified as the poet's grave. To this last earthly home he was borne on the 12th November, 1674, "the funeral being attended," according to To- land, "by the author's learned and great friends in London, not without a friendly concourse of the vulgar." Milton's funeral must, indeed, have been a solemn sight ! One fancies it slowly wending down from Artillery Walk, through the picturesque streets of the seventeenth century. THE BUILDER OF EDDY^TONE LIQHTHOU^E ur information respecting the domestic history of Smeaton is exceedingly scanty ; it amounts to little more than that he very early displayed a taste for mechanical pursuits ; delighting, it is said, even when a child in petticoats, to observe mechanics at work, and to question them re- ^> specting their employments. John Smeaton was born, according to most authorities, on the 28th of May, 1724, at Austhorpe, near Leeds, in a house built by his grandfather, and long afterwards in- habited by his family. His father was an attorney, and brought him up with a view to the legal profession. One of his bio- j graphers states that his toys were the tools of men ; and that, while yet little more than an infant, he was discovered one day on the top of his father's barn, fixing some- thing like a windmill. At the age of four- teen or fifteen we find him constructing a machine for rose-engine turning, and pro- ducing neat ornamental boxes, etc., for his friends. He appears to have been but little older when he cut, in a lathe of his own manufacture, a perpetual screw in brass, from the design of his friend Henry Hindley of York, with whom he joined in mechan- ical pursuits. By the age of eighteen years he had attained much skill in mechanical operations, and had furnished himself with many tools for performing them. About this time, in the year 1742, in pursuance of his father's design, young Smeaton came to London, and attended the courts of law at Westminster Hall ; but, finding the bent of his mind averse to the law, his father yielded to his wishes, and allowed him to devote his energies to more congenial matters. The next event related is his taking up the business of a mathe- matical-instrument maker, about the yeai 1750, when he was residing in lodgings in Great Turnstile, Holborn. In 1751 he tried experiments with a machine that he had invented for measuring a ship's way at sea ; and in 1752 and 1753 was engaged in a course of experiments " concerning the natural powers of water and wind to turn 6i FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. mills and other machines depending on cir- cular motion." He visited Holland and the Netherlands in 1754; and the acquaint- ance he thus obtained with the construction of embankments, artificial navigations, and similar works, probably formed an important part of his engineering education. In 1766 Smeaton com- menced the great work which, more than any other, may be looked upon as a last- ing monument of his skill — theEDDYSTONE Lighthouse. It was the third lighthouse buili. on the perilous rock from which it derives its name ; and in order to under- stand the real merit of the enterprise, it will be desir- able to show what was the nature of the two previous at- tempts to form a lighthouse at this spot. As the Eddy- stone rocks lie nearly in the direction of vessels coasting up and down the Channel, they were un- avoidably, before the establishment of a lighthouse there, very dangerous, and often fatal to ships ; their situation, with regard to the Bay of Biscay and the Atlantic, is such that they lie open to the swells of the bav and ocean from all the south-western WINSTANLEY S LIGHTHOUSE. points of the compass ; so that all the heavy seas from the south-west quarter come uncontrolled upon the Eddystone rocks, and break upon them with the utmost fury. Sometimes when the sea is to all appearance smooth and even, and its sur- face unruffled by the slightest breeze, the ground-swell meeting the slope of the rocks, the sea beats upon them in a fright- ful manner, so as not only to obstruct any work being done on the rock, but even landing upon it. The nearest land to the Eddystone rocks is the point to the west of Ply- mouth called the Ram Head, from which they are about ten miles distant nearly south. As these rocks (called the Eddystone, in all probability, from the whirl or eddy which is occasioned by the waters striking against them) were not very much ele- vated above the sea at any time, and at high water were quite covered by it, they formed a most dangerous obstacle to navi- gation, and several vessels were every season lost upon them. Many a gallant ship, which had voyaged in safety across the whole breadth of the Atlantic, was 66 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. shattered to pieces on this hidden source of destruction as it was n earing port, and went down with its crew in sight of their native shores. It was therefore very desir- able that the spot should, if possible, be pointed out by a warning light. But the same circumstances which made the Eddystone rocks so formidable to the mariner rendered the attempt to erect a lighthouse upon them a peculiarly difficult enterprise. The task, however, was at last undertaken by a Mr. Henry Winstanley, of Littlebury in Essex, a gentleman of some property, and not a regularly bred engi- neer or architect, but only a person with a natural turn for mechanical invention, and fond of amusing himself with ingenious experiments. His house at Littlebury was fitted up with a multitude of strange con- trivances, with which he surprised and amused his guests : and he also had an exhibition of water-works at Hyde-Park Corner, which appears, from a notice in the Tatler, to have been in existence in September, 1709. Winstanley began to erect his lighthouse on the Eddystone rocks in 1696, and it was finished about four years after. From the best information which can now be obtained it appears to have been a polygonal (or many-cornered) building of stone, and, when it had received its last additions, of about a hundred feet in height. Still the sea in stormy weather ascended far above this elevation, so much so that persons acquainted with the place used to remark, after the erection of Winstanley's building, that it was possible for a six-oared boat to be lifted up upon a wave and to be carried through the open gallery by which it was surmounted. The architect himself, it is said, felt so confident in the strength of the structure, that he frequently declared his only wish was, to be in it during the greatest storm that ever blew under the face of the heavens, that he might see what would be the effect But these words were perhaps merely ascribed to him after the event. On the 26th of November, 1703, Winstan- ley was in the lighthouse superintending some repairs, when there came on the most terrible tempest which was ever known in England. Next morning not a vestige of the building was to be seen. It had been swept into the deep, as was afterwards found, from the foundation, not a stone, or beam, or iron bar remaining on the rock. The single thing left was a piece of iron chain, which had got so wedged into a deep cleft that it stuck there till it was cut out more than fifty years afterwards. Such was the end of the first Eddystone Lighthouse. Soon after, the Winchchea, homeward-bound from Virginia, was lost on the rocks, when the greater part of her crew perished. An Act of Parliament was then passed for the building of a new lighthouse, on a lease granted to a Captain Lovet, or Lovell, for ninety-nine years. The indi- vidual whom Lovet made choice of was a Mr. John Rudyerd, a silk-mercer on Lud- gate-hill, who began the building of his lighthouse in July, 1706 ; it was so far advanced that a light was put up about two years from that time ; and in 1709 it was completed in all its parts. It differed from its predecessor in two important respects ; being, not of stone, but of wood, and not angular, but perfectly round. Its entire height was ninety-two feet. This building, notwithstanding some severe storms which it encountered, stood till the 2nd of December, 1755. About two o'clock on that morning, one of the three men who had the charge of it, having gone up to snuff the candles in the lantern, found the place full of smoke, from the midst of which, as soon as he opened the door, a flame burst forth. A spark from some of the twenty-four candles, which were kept constantly burning, had probably ignited the wood-work or the flakes of soot hanging from the roof. The man instantly alarmed his companions ; but, being in bed and asleep, it was some time before they arrived to his assistance. In the meantime he did his utmost to effect the extinction of the fire by throwing water upon it from a tub which always stood in the place. The other two, when they came, brought up THE BUILDER OF EDDYS TONE LIGHTHOUSE. 07 more water from below ; but as they had to go down and return a height of seventy- feet for this purpose, their endeavours were of little avail. At last a quantity of the lead on the roof, having melted, came down in a torrent upon the head and shoulders of the man who remained above. He was an old man of ninety-four, of the name of Henry Hall, but still full of strength and activity. This accident, together with the rapid increase of the fire notwithstanding their most desperate exertions, extinguished their last hopes, and, making scarcely any further efforts to arrest the progress of the destroying element, they descended before it from room to room, till they came to the lowest floor. Driven from this also, they then sought refuge in a hole or cave on the eastern side of the rock, it being fortunately by this time low water. Meanwhile the conflagration had been observed by some fishermen, who immedi- ately returned to shore and gave informa- tion of it. Boats of course were at once sent out. They arrived at the lighthouse about ten o'clock • and with the utmost difficulty a landing was effected, and the three men, who were by this time almost in a state of stupefaction, were dragged through the water into one of the boats. One of them, as soon as he was brought on shore, as if struck with some panic, took flight, and was never more heard of! As for old Hall, he always persisted in saying that the doctors would never bring him round, unless they could remove from his stomach the lead which had run down his throat when it fell upon him from the roof of the lantern. Nobody could believe that this was anything more than an imagination of the old man ; but on the twelfth day after the fire, having been suddenly seized with cold sweats and spasms, he expired, and a flat oval piece of lead of the weight of seven ounces five drachms was found in his stomach. As there was still more than half a cen- tury of their lease unexpired, the numerous proprietors felt that no time should be lost in setting about the rebuilding of the light- house. Application was made to Lord Macclesfield, the President of the Royal Society, to recommend to them the person whom he considered most fit to be engaged. His lordship immediately named and most strongly recommended Mr. Smeaton, who had recently left the business of mathemati- cal instrument "maker, and taken up that of a civil engineer, for which his genius admirably fitted him. Once more, there- fore, the Eddystone Lighthouse was destined to have a self-educated architect for its builder. When it was first proposed that the work should be put into his hands, he was in Northumberland ; but he arrived in London on the 23rd of February, 1756. On the 22nd of March the architect set out for Plymouth ; but, on account of the bad- ness of the roads, did not reach the end of his journey till the 27th. He remained at Plymouth till the 21st of May, in the course of which time he repeatedly visited the rock, and having, with the consent of his employers, determined that the new light- house should be of stone, hired work-yards and workmen, contracted for the various materials he wanted, and made all the other necessary arrangements for beginning and carrying on the work. Everything being in readiness, and the season sufficiently ad- vanced, on the 5th of August the men were landed on the rock, and immediately began cutting it for the foundation of the building. This part of the work was all that was ac- complished that season, in the course of which, however, both the exertions and the perils of the architect and his associates were very great. On one occasion the sloop in which Mr. Smeaton, with eighteen seamen and labourers, was embarked, was all but lost in returning from the work. During this time the belief and expressed opinion of most persons were, that a stone lighthouse would certainly not stand the winds and seas to which it would be ex- posed on the Eddystone. However, on the 12th of June, 1757, the first stone was laid. From this period the work proceeded with great rapidity. On the 26th of August, 1759, all the stonework was completed. 63 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. On the 9th of October following the build- ing was finished in every part ; and on the 1 6th of the same month the saving light was again streaming from its summit over the waves. Thus the whole undertaking was accomplished within a space of little more than three years, " without the loss of life or limb," says Mr. Smeaton, " to any one concerned in it, or accident by which the work could be said to be materially retarded." During all this time there had been only 421 days, comprising 2674 hours, which it had been possible for the men to spend upon the rock ; and the whole time which they had been at work there was only in days 10 hours, or scarcely sixteen weeks. Nothing can show more strikingly than this statement the extraordinary diffi- culties under which the work had to be carried on. A few particulars concerning the mode of constructing this remarkable building may be interesting. Smeaton's edifice is a circular tower of stone, sweeping up with a gentle curve from the base, and gradually diminishing to the top, somewhat similar to the swelling of the trunk of a tree. The upper storey is furnished with a door and windows, and a staircase and ladders for ascending to the lantern, through the apartments of those who keep watch. In order to form his foundation, Smeaton accurately measured the very irregular surface of the rock, and made a model of it. The materials employed in building the tower are moor-stone, a hard species of granite, and Portland stone. The granite rock was partially worked to form the foundations ; and as the ground joint would be more subject to the action of the sea than any other, it was found necessary, not only that the bed of every stone should have a level bearing, but that every outside piece should be grafted into the rock, so as to be guarded by a border thereof at least three inches in height above it, which would in reality be equivalent to the founding of the building in a socket of three inches depth in the shallowest part. On the 3rd of August, 1756, Smeaton fixed the centre point of the building and traced out part of the plan on the rock ; and on the 6th nearly the whole of the work was set out. On the 4th of September the two new steps at the bottom of the rock and the dovetails were roughed out, and some of the beds brought to a level and finished, after very great labour. The stones for the several courses were rough worked at the quarries according to various drafts made by the engineer. A part of the upper surface of the rock having been taken carefully off, but without the use of gunpowder, lest it should loosen the rock, six foundation courses dovetailed together were then raised on the lower part of the rock, which brought the whole to a solid level mass. These courses, with eight others raised above them, form the solid bed of the work, and take the form of the swelling trunk of a tree at its base. The courses of masonry are dovetailed to- HORIZONTAL SECTION OF EDDYSTONE LIGHT- HOUSE. gether in the most skilful manner : the successive layers of masonry being strongly cemented and connected by oaken trenails or plugs, and the whole strongly cramped. The general weight of the stones employee! is a ton, and some few are two tons. In the solid work the centre stones were fixed first, and all the courses were fitted on a platform and accurately adjusted before they were removed to the rock. The base of the tower is about 26 feet 9 inches in diameter, taken at the highest pari THE BUILDER OF EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE. 69 of the rock. The diameter at the top of the solid masonry is about 1 9 feet 9 inches, and the height of the solid masonry is 13 feet from the foundation. The masonry may still be considered of solid construction to the top of the stone staircase, the height to the top of which, from the centre of the base, is 28 feet 4 inches. The height of the tower from the centre is 61 feet 7 inches ; the lantern, the base of which is stone, is 24 feet; and the diameter of the tower below the cornice is 15 feet. The whole height is therefore 85 feet 7 inches. The Eddystone Lighthouse has not only the merit of utility, but also of beauty, strength, and originality, and is itself sufficient to immortalize the name of the architect. As an illustration of his careful foresight, it is stated that when he was building it, a century ago, he discovered a hollow in the rock under his proposed tower. He sought from the Masters of Trinity House an appropriation to cover the cost of filling this hollow with cement. The expense would have been trifling, two or three hundred pounds. But the Board were in a parsimonious fit, or thought that their architect's fears were groundless. At any rate the appropriation was not made, and the hollow was left. It is this hollow that has at last forced the building of a new tower on a new ledge. A refusal to expend two or three hundred pounds a century ago has necessitated the expenditure of sixty or seventy thousand pounds now. Of the many useful works executed by Smeaton, Ramsgate Harbour perhaps holds, next to the Eddystone Lighthouse, the most prominent place. This work was com- menced in 1749, but was carried on with very imperfect success until it was placed under his superintendence, in 1774. This harbour, being enclosed by two piers of about 2,000 and 1,500 feet long respectively, affords a safe refuge for ships where it was much needed ; vessels in the Downs having been exposed to imminent risk during bad weather before it was constructed. Smeaton laid out the line of the great canal connect- ing the western and eastern shores of Scot- land, from the Forth to the Clyde, and superintended the execution of a great part of it. To his skill, in all probability, the preservation of Old London Bridge for many years was attributable. In 1 761, in consequence of alterations made for im- provement of the navigation, one of the piers was undermined by the stream to a fearful extent. The first volume of Smeaton's " Reports/' of which a second edition was published in 18 12, contains a short men- tion of him preparatory to the volume, and in this is given the following paragraph, relating to this matter : — " On opening the great arch at London Bridge, by throwing two arches into one, and the removal of a large pier, the excavation around and underneath the sterlings of that pier was so considerable as to put the adjoining piers, the arch, and eventually the whole bridge, in great danger of falling ! The apprehensions of all the people on this head were so great that many persons would not pass over or under it. The surveyors employed were not equal to such an exi- gency. Mr. Smeaton was then in York- shire, where he was sent for by express, and from whence he arrived in town with the greatest expedition. The committee of Common Council adopted his advice, which was, to re-purchase the stones of all the city gates, then lately pulled down and lying in Moorfields, and to throw them pell-mell into the water, to guard these sterlings, pre- serve the bottom from further corrosion, raise the floor under the arch, and restore the head of water necessary for the water-works to its original power; and this was a practice he had before and afterwards adopted on similar occasions. Nothing shows the ap- prehensions of the bridge falling more than the alacrity with which his advice was pur- sued : the stones were re-purchased that day ; horses, carts, and barges were got ready, and the work was instantly begun, though it was Sunday morning." The Calder Navigation was one of the great works which he successfully accom- plished : and he provided with much skill for the effect of the impetuous floods to 7 o FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. which that river is subject. The Spurn Lighthouse at the mouth of the Humber, some important bridges in Scotland, and many other works of like character, might also be mentioned. About 1783 Smeaton's declining health 'jndered it necessary for him to avoid en- cering upon many new undertakings. He then devoted much attention to the publi- cation Oi an account of the Eddystone Lighthouse, which was to have been fol- lowed by a treatise on mills, and other works embodying his valuable experience as an engineer. The former of these was the only work he lived to complete ; and it is a volume of great and permanent interest, detailing in the most minute and simple manner every circumstance worthy of record concerning the history or the construction of the lighthouse. It is dedicated to George TIL, who had taken much interest in the structure ; and in the dedication, in explain- ing the circumstances which had deferred the appearance of the narrative until so long after the completion of the building, the author observes, " I can with truth say, I have ever since been employed in works tending to the immediate benefit of your Majesty's subjects ; and indeed so unremit- tingly, that it is not without the greatest exertion that I am enabled even now to complete the publication." He had made some progress in this work before 1763 ; but it appears to have been laid aside for about twenty years, and was not published until about 1791. On the 16th of Septem- ber, 1792, while walking in his garden at Austhorpe, Smeaton was seized with an attack of paralysis; and on the 28th of October he died. Smeaton was not a money-making en- gineer, nor did he much value money. His profession he passionately loved for its own sake, and he limited his engagements to what he could really do and do well, and which would at the same time afford him opportunity to pursue his congenial tastes and experiments. In person Smeaton was of middle sta- ture, broad, and strongly made, and of good constitution. In his manners he was simple, frank, unassuming. He was of warm temperament, occasionally abrupt, and seemed harsh to those who did not know him. He never lost the dialect of his native Yorkshire, but seemed rather to glory in the use of it. Two or three anecdotes are recorded ot Smeaton. When on one occasion he was pressed more than he liked to undertake some new business, and the prospect of great remuneration was held out to him, he called in the old woman who took charge of his chambers in Gray's Inn, and pointing to her, said, " Her attendance suffices for all my wants." Thus was he rich through the paucity of his desires rather than the abun- dance of his means. Another time, when the Princess Dasch- kow urged him to go to Russia and enter the service of the Empress, who was extremely anxious to have him employed on the great engineering works she was prose- cuting, she offered him his own terms if he would consent to the proposal. But his plans and his heart were bent on the exer- cise of his skill in his own country, and he steadily refused all the offers made to him. When the Princess found all her attempts unavailing, she said to him, "Sir, I know you ; you are a truly great man. You may, perhaps, have your equal in abilities, but in character you stand alone. The English minister, Sir Robert Walpole, was mistaken, and my sovereign has the misfortune to find one man who has not his price." On one occasion he was introduced to the Duke and Duchess of Queensbury in a most singular way. He was walking with his wife in Ranelagh Gardens, — the fashionable re- sort in those times, — when he observed an elderly lady and gentleman fix their mark upon him. At length they came up, and the lady, who proved to be the eccentric Duchess of Queensbury, said to him, " Sir, I do not know who you are or what you are ; but so strongly do you resemble my poor dear Gay (the poet) that we must be acquainted. You shall go home and sup with us ; and if the minds of the two men accord, as do the THE BUILDER OF EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE. V countenances, you will find two cheerful old folks who can love you well, and I think (or you are a hypocrite) you can as well deserve it." Mr. Smeaton and his wife accepted the invitation, and it proved one of their most intimate and pleasing London friendships. Ofttimes did he spend a leisure hour at their house. It happened that the Duke and Duchess were very fond of card-playing, a pastime which Smeaton detested. " On one such evening," writes his daughter, "he effected the abolition of that inconsiderate, indiscriminate play among people of a superior rank and for- tune, which compels every one to join, and at their own stake too. The game was Pope Joan, the general run of it was high, and the stake in pope had accidentally ac- cumulated to a sum more than serious. It was my father's turn, by the deal, to double it ; when, regardless of his cards; he busily made minutes on a slip of paper, and put it on the board. The Duchess eagerly asked him what it was ; and he as coolly re- plied, ' Your grace will recollect the field in which my house stands may be about five acres, three roods, and seven perches ; which, at thirty years' purchase, will be just my stake ; and if your grace will make a duke of me, I presume the winner will not dislike my mortgage.' The hint thus con- veyed by the joke was kindly received, and henceforth they never played but for the merest trifle." There is too much reason to fear that Smeaton taxed his brain too much in philo- sophical investigations. The story of his last hours is beautifully told by Smiles. Ki Happily his faculties returned to him, and he expressed his thankfulness to the Al- mighty that his intellect had been spared. He was very resigned and cheerful, and took pleasure in seeing the usual social occupation of the family going on about him. He would, however, complain of his growing slowness of apprehension, and ex- cuse it with a smile, saying, 4 It could not be otherwise ; the shadow must lengthen as the sun goes down.'" Some phenomena relating to the moon formed one evening the subject of conversation, when it was shining very bright full into his room. Fixing his eyes upon it, he said, " How often have I looked up to it with inquiry and wonder, and thought of the period when I shall have the vast and privileged views of a hereafter, and all will be comprehen- sion and pleasure ! " In a letter to a friend he said, " I conclude myself nine-tenths dead ; and the greatest favour the Almighty can do me (as I think) will be to complete the other part ; but as it is likely to be a lingering illness, it is only in His power to say when that is likely to happen." In the 68th year of his age, his spirit found rest, and his mortal remains repose in the old parish church of Whitkirk. The ceremony of laying the foundation of the new Eddystone lighthouse, in Septem- ber, 1879, was successfully accomplished. The Prince of Wales and the Duke of Edinburgh embarked in a steam-launch for the Trinity yacht Galalea, and, followed by a little fleet of steamers and other craft, loaded with spectators, proceeded to the rock, upon which they landed. After prayer had been offered up by the Rev. Dr. Wilkinson, vicar of St. Andrew's, Ply- mouth, the Royal Master of the Trinity House spread the cement for the stone. The Prince of Wales having also used the trowel, the ceremony was complete, and the Royal party returned in the Galatea, and in the evening they dined with the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe at his residence, Mount Edgcumbe Park, which was brilli- antly illuminated in honour of their *asit. Magnesium lights were placed at intervals among the trees, and the effect of these, together with the various coloured smoke arising from them, as seen from Barnpool where the Osborne lay at anchor, was very fine. The building now in course of erec- tion is expected to be completed in about four years, and H.R. PI. the Duchess of Edinburgh has promised to lay the top stone. Its height will be 130 feet above high water at spring tide, and its light will be visible at a distance of more than seven- teen miles. ?2 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. £IF( HEJNF(Y HOLLAND. t was no idle boast for Sir Henry Holland to be able to say that, dating from the commencement of the cen- tury, he had lived, an intelli- gent and omnipresent spec- tator, through seventy-two of the most exciting and eventful years of the world's history ; that he had seen the political and social aspect of most civilized nations in both hemispheres transformed three or four times over, including the fall of two empires, two monarchies, and three or four republics, to say nothing of provi- sional governments, in France. He had crossed the Atlantic sixteen or seventeen times; travelled over more than 26,000 miles of the American continent ; made four expeditions to the East, three tours in Russia, two in Iceland, several in Sweden, Norway, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and Greece ; innumerable voyages to the Canary Isles, the West Indies, Madeira, etc., and, to use his own words, " other excursions which it would be useless to enumerate." He had associated in every capital in Europe with all that is, or was, most eminent for rank, birth, genius, wit, learning, and accomplish- ment. He could call every leading states- man of the United States and every President for the last half-century his friend. In his professional capacity, besides a long list of royal and princely patients, he had the honour and deep responsibility of pre- scribing for six Prime Ministers of England, besides Chancellors of the Exchequer, Secretaries of State, Presidents of the Council, Chief justices, and Lord Chan- cellors. We say " deep responsibility," because it is difficult to overestimate the influence of health *on statesmanship, on the administra- tion of justice, or on the general conduct of affairs. Although the fact of Pitt's illness behind the Speaker's chair, during the speech to which he made his famous reply in 1783, did not impair his eloquence, the collapse of the ministry formed by Lord Chatham in 1766 was certainly owing to suppressed gout. There were three occa- sions — Borodino, the third day of Dresden, and Waterloo — on which the eagle, eye of Napoleon was perceptibly dimmed by indigestion or physical suffering. When Lord Tenterden's stomach was out of order — as it generally was after a City dinner, from his extreme fondness for turtle — woe to the unlucky junior who cited an in- applicable case, and still greater woe to the prisoner who had the misfortune to appear before him in the criminal court. Sir Henry Holland is as bad as the philosopher who said he would not open his hand if he had it full of truths. Vehe- ment remonstrances were addressed to him on the first appearance of his " Recollec- tions." He was reminded that he could probably account in the simplest manner for what has hitherto seemed unaccountable — why one of his Premier patients wrote that imprudent letter which fell among his party like a bomb-shell — why another made that angry speech which precipitated the downfall of his Government. Was it, he was asked, simply because their " guide, philosopher, and doctor " was not called in a little sooner — because the blue pill or colchicum was administered too late ? But Sir Henry died and made no sign. There are only two or three instances in which he in the slightest degree departed from his provoking although, we must admit, highly creditable reserve. He tells us that when he was in attendance on Canning at Chiswick, in August, 1827, the dying states- man said to him, " I have struggled against this long, but it has conquered me at last." That Canning's death was accelerated by SIR HENRY HOLLAND. 73 political worry and excitability is well known. " Having occasion to call on Lord Liverpool in the preceding February, he (Lord Liverpool) begged me to feel his pulse, the first time I had ever done so." His Lordship's state was such as to induce an immediate appeal to his medical advisers, and the very next morning his political life was closed by a paralytic stroke. " His pulse alone had given me cause for alarm ; but there were one or two passages in half an hour's conversation so forcibly express- ing the harassing anxieties of his position, that I could hardly dissociate them from the event which thus instantly followed." There is a striking reminiscence of Lord Palmerston : — "I have seen him under a fit of gout, which would have sent other men groaning to their couches, continue his work of read- ing or writing on public business almost without abatement, amid the chaos of papers which covered the floor as well as the tables of his room." There is only one consultation, if it can be called one, which Sir Henry was tempted to betray. It was his being asked by Ali Pasha whether he knew of any poison which, put on the mouthpiece of a pipe or given in coffee, might slowly and silently kill, leaving no note behind. " The instant and short answer I gave, that, as a physician, I had studied how to save life, not to destroy it, was probably, as I judged from his face, faithfully translated to him. He quitted the subject abruptly, never to return to it." He was born at Knutsford, Cheshire, on the 27th of October, 1787, of a respectable family, and received his principal education at a school at Bristol, where he was named head boy at once in succession to John Cam Hobhouse, the late Lord Broughton. On leaving school he was placed for a short time in a merchant's counting-house at Liverpool, but in his eighteenth year we find him studying medicine in Edinburgh, where he graduated in the autumn of 181 1, taking as the subject of his Latin thesis, " The Diseases of Iceland," which he had already visited. Of the three years yet wanting of the age required for admission to the College of Physicians in London he resolved to appropriate the first part to a scheme of travel, embracing the Mediter- ranean and the countries bordering on it. The result was given in his " Travels in Portugal, Sicily, the Ionian Islands, and Greece," published in 18 15, in which year Mrs. Piozzi writes from Bath : — " We have had a fine Dr. Holland here. He has seen and written about the Ionian Islands, and means now to practise as a physician — exchanging the Cyclades, say we wits and wags, for the sick ladies. We made quite a lion of the man. I was in- vited to every house he visited at for the last three days. So I got the queue du lion, despairing of le coeur." There is a story that when his engage- ment to his second wife, Sydney Smith's daughter, was made known in 1834, Lady Holland asked Sydney Smith whether Saba was not going to marry an apothecary or something of the sort, and that the answer was, " Yes, but he happens to be a name- sake of yours." This is hardly possible, for we learn from the "Recollections " that he became free of Holland House and Lans- downe House soon after his return to England in 18 14. But he was not made a baronet until 1853, and we have grounds for believing her reported threat (though he said he never heard of it) that he should never set foot in Holland House again if he brought a rival Lady Holland into the field. In the summer of 1814 he accepted the appointment of domestic medical atten- dant on Caroline, Princess of Wales (after- wards Queen), on an engagement to ac- company her on her travels and stay with her during the first year of her intended residence on the continent. He saw a great many curious things and came into contact with a great many remarkable people while he remained with her, but he tells us next to nothing of them which might not be proclaimed at Charing Cross, and indeed he fairly warns us, to prevent disappointment : " I have never been a 71 FAMaUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. practised relater of anecdotes, and do not pretend thus late in life to take up that character." Her Royal Highness must have paid him the compliment of being singularly prudent and reserved in his company, for when he was called as a witness for the defence at her trial, he positively stated that he had seen nothing improper or derogatory in her behaviour at any time. To give some idea of the personal anxieties created by this trial, he mentions that during its progress he was called upon to see as patients three ladies summoned as witnesses, and made ill by their appre- hensions : " One of them only was exam- ined, but this in a way to justify her fears. I can affirm, notwithstanding one scene in the House of Lords, that the Queen herself was the person least excited or affected by the proceedings." Besides professional calls to foreign parts, he made a point of indulging himself an- nually in a two or three months' ramble, choosing the long vacation for his holiday ; and this goes far to explain why his patients did not call in another doctor, or (as has been rather maliciously insinuated) "take an unfair advantage of his absence to get well." They belonged almost exclusively to a class which emigrated about the same time ; and a good many of them, we suspect, were rather ailing than ill. We knew a wealthy couple whom he visited regularly during the season, receiving daily from each a two- guinea fee, which he could not have refused without offending them. After stating that steam and electricity enabled him to make engagements for the very moment of his return, he adds : — " I recollect having found a patient wait- ing in my room when I came back from those mountain heights, not more than 200 miles from the frontier of Persia, where the Ten Thousand Greeks uttered their joyous cry on the sudden sight of the Euxine. The same thing once happened to me in returning from Egypt and Syria, when I found a carriage waiting at London Bridge to take me to a consultation in Sussex Square ; the communication in each case being made from points on my homeward journey. More than once in returning from America I have begun a round of visits from the Euston Station." " Time and tide wait for no man," and we can hardly believe that a congestion of the liver, a diarrhoea, or even a fit of the gout, would be more accommodating than time or tide. That round of visits was most assuredly to the class of patients whom he had in view in the frank admission that " the practice of a West End physician abounds in cases which give little occasion for thought or solicitude, and are best re- lieved by a frequent half-hour of genial conversation." There could be no West End physician better qualified to administer this sort of remedy, for, besides his varied information and good sense, every one felt safe in his society. His published writings place his profes- sional and scientific knowledge, as well as his literary attainments, beyond dispute ; but a fashionable physician with his style of practice, must expect to encounter a good deal of harmless pleasantry, and can afford it. When Lady Palmerston was suffering from an illness that occasioned some alarm to her friends, one of them, meeting the late Dr. James Ferguson, asked anxiously how she was. " I can't give you a better notion of her recovery," was the reply, " than by telling you that I have just received my last fee, and that she is now left entirely to Holland." On this being repeated to Lord Palmerston, his lordship mused a little and then said, " Ah ! I see what he means. When you trust yourself to Holland, you should have a superfluous stock of health for him to work upon." On the announcement of his failure to kill either of a brace of pheasants that had risen within easy range at Combe Florey, Sydney Smith asked why he did not prescribe for them. To refute this story, he says : — " I can even affirm, though without boasting of it, that I have never fired gun or pistol in my life, either as sportsman or in any other capacity." Once, on his making the* SIX HENRY HOLLAND. 75 same statement at a dinner table, it was suggested that he would have been placed at a disadvantage if, like the doctor in " Peregrine Pickle," he had been obliged to fight a duel One of the party remarked : — " Not at all ; if Sir Henry had the choice of arms he might choose the same as the two French doctors, who agreed to have two pills silvered over so as to look exactly alike, one of bread and one of deadly poison, which, after tossing up for first choice, they were to swallow at a signal. This mode of duel has also the marked recommendation that, whatever the result, there is sure to be a doctor the less." He was engaged in hot argument with Bobus Smith, an ex-Advocate General, touching the merits of their respective pro- fessions. " You will admit," said Holland, " that your profession does not make angels of men." " No," retorted Bobus, " there you have the best of it. Yours certainly gives them the best chance." Sancho Panza's short tenure of his govern- ment was embittered by the attendance at supper of his state physician, who waved his wand as a signal to the Major Domo to remove untasted every savoury dish in succession for fear his Excellency's invalu- able health should suffer from excess. This is a duty which Sir Henry Holland would have discharged reluctantly and inefficiently. Towards the conclusion of an excellent dinner— after, in fact, eating and drinking more than was good for him — Lord Mel- bourne was in the daily habit of, as he expressed it, " topping up " with toasted cheese and orange brandy. The year before he died, a friend who was at Brocket when Sir Henry Holland came down and stayed to dinner, called his attention to this habit as a fair case for medical interference. " I shall certainly keep it in mind/' was his reply ; " but if I made any direct reference to what I saw r at dinner, none of my patients would ever ask me to dine with them again, and most of them would leave off consulting me." Let it be remembered that this was said by a man of excellent sense and known liberality, who might have materially in- creased his professional income had he thought fit. A little exaggerating Sir Henry's light equipment as a traveller, Sydney Smith used to say that he started for his two months' tours with a box of pills in one pocket ana a clean shirt in the other — occasionally forgetting the shirt. Certain it is, as all who have fallen in with him by sea or land will attest, that he might be seen in all climates, in the Arctic regions or the tropics, on the prairies or the pyramids, in precisely the same attire — the black dress coat in which he hurried from house to house in Mayfair. Yet he never had a serious illness till his last. There was not a day, probably not an hour, when he could not boast of the mens sana in corpore sano ; and, without headache or heartache, he attained the extraordinary age of 36. But if it be a blessing or sign of Divine favour to die young, surely it is a still greater blessing to live a long, happy, useful, irre- proachable life, and sink, calmly, full of years, into the grave, regretted and esteemed by all. Sir Henry Holland died at his house in Brook Street, on his 86th birthday, Monday, the 27th October, 1873, having attended the Bazaine trial at Versailles on Friday, the 24th, and dined that same day at the British Embassy in Paris, where he was especially remarked as " cheerful and happy, and full of conversation." 7* FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. HAYES FARM, DEVON. THE PRINCE OF DI£COVERER£. ery little is known concerning the youth of Sir Walter Raleigh. He was a younger son, descended of an ancient family, and was born at a farm called Hayes, near the mouth of the river Otter, in Devonshire, in the year 1552. He went to Oriel College, Oxford, at an early age, and gained high praise for the quickness and precocity of his talents. In 1569 he began his military career in the civil wars of France, as a volunteer in the Protestant cause. It is conjectured that he remained in France for more than six years, and returned to Eng- land in 1576. Soon after, he repaired to the Netherlands, and served as a volunteer against the Spaniards. In such schools, and under such leaders as Coligni and the Prince of Orange, Raleigh's natural aptitude for political and military science received the best nurture : but he was soon drawn from the war in Holland by a pursuit which had captivated his imagination from an early age — the prosecution of discovery in the New World. In conjunction with his half-brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, a man of courage and ability, and a skilful sailor, he made an unsuccessful attempt to es- tablish a colony in North America. Re- turning home in 1579, he immediately entered the queen's army in Ireland, and served with good esteem for personal courage and professional skill, until the suppression of the rebellion in that coun- try. He owed his introduction to court, and the personal favour of Elizabeth, as is traditionally reported, to a fortunate and well-improved accident, which is too familiar to need repetition here. It is probable, however, that his name and talents were not unknown, for we find him employed almost immediately in certain matters of diplomacy. Among the cares and pleasures of a courtier's life, Raleigh preserved his zeal THE PRINCE OF DISCOVERERS. 77 for American discovery. He applied his own resources to the fitting out another expedition in 1583, under command of Sir Humphrey Gilbert, which proved more un- fortunate than the former one : two out of the vessels returned home in consequence of sickness, and two were wrecked, including that in which the admiral sailed ; and the only result of the enterprise was the taking possession of Newfoundland in the name of England. Still Raleigh's desire for Ameri- can adventure was not damped. The continent northward of the Gulf of Florida was at this time unknown. But Raleigh, upon careful study of the best authorities, had concluded that there was good reason for believing that a considerable tract of land did exist in that quarter ; and with the assent of the queen in council, from whom he obtained letters patent, granting to himself and his heirs, under certain reservations, property in such countries as lie should discover, with a right to provide for their protection and administration, he fitted out two ships, which sailed in April, 1584. The first land which they made was an island named Okakoke, running parallel to the coast of North Carolina. They were well received by the natives, and returned to England in the following autumn highly pleased. Nor was less satisfaction felt by Raleigh, or even by the queen, who conferred on him the honour of knighthood, a title which was then in high esteem, inasmuch as it was bestowed by that wise princess with a most frugal and just discrimination. She also gave him a very lucrative mark of favour, in the shape of a patent for licensing the selling of wine throughout the kingdom ; and she directed that the new country, in allusion to herself, should be called Virginia. Raleigh did not think it politic, perhaps was not allowed, to quit the court to take charge in person of his undertaking ; and those to whom he entrusted the difficult task of directing the infant colony appear to have been unequal to their office. It is not necessary to pur- sue the history of an enterprise which proved unsuccessful, and in which Sir Walter personally bore no share. He showed his earnestness by fitting out several expeditions, which must have been a heavy drain upon his fortune. But he is said to have derived immense wealth from prizes captured from the Spaniards ; and we may here observe that the lavish magnificence in dress, especially in jewels, for w r hich Raleigh was remarkable, even in the gorgeous court of Elizabeth (his state dress is said to have been enriched with jewels to the value of ^60.000), may be considered less as an extravagance than as a safe and portable investment of treasure. A mind less active might have found em- ployment more than enough in the variety of occupations which pressed upon him at home. He possessed a large estate, granted out of forfeited lands in Ireland ; but this was always a source rather of expense than of profit, until, in 1601, he sold it to the Earl of Cork. He was Seneschal of the Duchies of Cornwall and Exeter, and held the wardenship of the Stannaries ; and in 1586, as well as formerly in 1584, we find that he possessed a seat in Parliament. In 1 58 7 the formidable preparation of the Spanish Armada withdrew the mind of Raleigh, as of all Englishmen, from objects of minor importance, to the defence of their country. He was a member of the council of war directed to prepare a general scheme of defence, and held the office of Lieu- tenant-General of Cornwall, in addition to the charge of the Isle of Portland ; but as on this occasion he possessed no naval command, he was not actively engaged in the destruction of that mighty armament. In 1589 he served as a volunteer in the expedition of Norris and Drake to Portugal. Nor were his labours unrewarded even in that unfortunate enterprise ; for he captured several prizes, and received the present of a gold chain from the queen, in testimony of her approbation of his conduct. Soon after these events, Raleigh retired to his Irish property, being driven from court, according to some authorities, by the enmity of the Earl of Essex, then a young man j ust rising into favour. He there renewed 7 3 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. a former intimacy with the poet Spenser, who, like himself, had been rewarded, with a grant of land out of forfeited estates, and then resided at Kilcolman Castle. Spenser lias celebrated the return of his friend in the beautiful pastoral "Colin Clout's come home again ; " and in that, and various passages of his works, he has made honourable men- tion of the highly poetic spirit which en- abled the " Shepherd of the Ocean," as he is there denominated, to appreciate the merit of the " Fairy Queen/' and led him to promote the publication of it by every means in his power. The loss of Raleigh's court favour, if such there was, could not have been of long duration on this occasion. But he incurred more serious displeasure in consequence of a private marriage con- tracted with Elizabeth Throgmorton, one of the queen's maids of honour, a lady of beauty and accomplishments, who proved her worth and fidelity in the long train of misfortunes which beset the latter years of Raleigh's life. In consequence of this in- trigue, he was committed to the Tower. One or two amusing anecdotes are related of the devices which he employed to obtain forgiveness, by working on that vanity which was the queen's chief foible. He succeeded in appeasing his indignant mistress so far as to procure his release ; and about the same time, in 1594, she granted to him the valuable manor of Sherborne, in Dorset- shire : but though she requited his services, she still forbade his appearance at court, where he now held the office of captain of the yeomen of the guard. Raleigh was peculiarly fitted to adorn a court by his imposing person, the graceful magnificence of his taste and habits, the elegance of his manners, and the interest of his conversa- tion. These accomplishments were sure passports to the favour of Elizabeth ; and he improved to the utmost the constant opportunities of intercourse with her which his post afforded, insomuch that, except the Earls of Leicester and Essex, no one ever seems to have stood higher in her graces. But Elizabeth's jealousy on the subject of her favourites' marriages is well known, and her anger was lasting, in proportion to the value which she set on the incense of Raleigh's flattery. He retired, on his dis- grace, to his new estate, in the improve- ment and embellishment of which he felt great interest. But though deeply alive to the beauties of nature, he had been too long trained to a life of ambition and ad- venture to rest contented in the tranquil routine of a country life ; and during this period of seclusion, he again turned his thoughts to his favourite subject of Ameri- can adventure, and laid the scheme of his first expedition to Guiana, in search of the celebrated El Dorado, the fabled seat of inexhaustible wealth. Having fitted out, with the assistance of other private persons, a considerable fleet, Raleigh sailed from Plymouth, February 6, 1595. He left his ships in the mouth of the river Orinoco, and sailed four hundred miles into the interior in boats. It is to be recorded to his honour that he treated the Indians with great kindness ; which, contrasted with the savage conduct of the Spaniards, raised so friendly a feeling towards him, that for years his return was eagerly expected, and at length was hailed with delight. The hardships of the undertaking, and the natural advantages of the country which he explored, are eloquently described in his own account of the " Discovery of Guiana." But the setting in of the rainy season rendered it necessary to return, without having reached the promised land of wealth ; and Raleigh reaped no other fruit of his adventure than a certain quantity of geographical knowledge, and a full conviction of the importance of colo- nising and taking possession of the newly- discovered region. This continued through life to be his favourite scheme ; but neither Elizabeth nor her successor could be in- duced to view it in the same favourable light. On reaching England, he found the queen still unappeased ; nor was he suffered to appear at court, and he complains in pathetic terms of the cold return with which his perils and losses were requited. But THE PRINCE OF DISCOVERERS. 79 he was invested with a high command in the expedition of 1596, by which the Spanish fleet was destroyed in the harbour of Cadiz; and to his judgment and temper in overruling the faulty schemes proposed by others the success of that enterprise was chiefly due. Indeed his services were per- haps too important, and too justly appre- ciated by the public, for his own interests ; for the great and general praise bestowed on him on this occasion tended to confirm a jealousy of long standing on the part of the commander-in-chief, the Earl of Essex ; and it was probably owing to that favourite's influence that Raleigh was still forbidden the queen's presence. Essex, and the secretary of state, Sir Robert Cecil, re- garded each other with mutual distrust and dislike. Cecil and Raleigh were connected by ties of common interest, and, as the latter supposed, of friendship. Still Ra- leigh found the interest of the minister too weak to serve his purpose, while the in- terest of the favourite was employed against him \ and, as the only method of effecting his own restoration to the queen's favour, lie undertook to work a reconciliation be- tween these two powerful rivals. In this he was successful, to the great admiration of all • and the fruit of his policy we see in his readmission to the execution of his official duties at court, June 1, 1597. In the following August he was appointed Rear-Admiral in the expedition called the Island Voyage, of which Essex held the chief command. The slight successes which were obtained were again due to the military talents of Raleigh ; the main objects of the voyage were lost through the earl's inexperience. From this time to the death of the queen Raleigh enjoyed an uninterrupted course of favour. The ancient enmity between Essex and himself was indeed renewed, and that with increased rancour; but the indiscretions of the favourite had greatly weakened his influence. Raleigh and Cecil spared no pains to undermine him, and were, in fact, the chief workers of his ruin. This is perhaps the most unamiable passage in Raleigh's life ; and the only ex- cuse to be pleaded for him is, the deter- mined enmity of that unfortunate noble- man. This fault, however, brought a slow but severe punishment with it ; for the death of Essex dissolved the tie which held together Cecil and himself. Neither could be content to act second to the other ; and Raleigh's high reputation and versatile as well as profound abilities, might well alarm the secretary for his own supremacy. The latter took the surest way of establishing his power prospectively. Elizabeth was now old ; Cecil took no steps to diminish the high esteem in which she held Sir Walter Raleigh, but he secretly laboured to prejudice her successor against him, and in this he succeeded. Very soon after the accession of James I., Raleigh's post of captain of the guard was taken from him ; and his patent of wines was revoked, though not without a nominal compen- sation being made. To complete his ruin, it was contrived to involve him in a charge of treason. Most writers have concurred in speaking of this passage of history as inexplicable; it is the opinion of the last historian of Raleigh, Mr. Tytler, that he has found sufficient evidence for regarding the whole plot as a device of Cecil's, and he has supported this opinion by cogent arguments. Lord Cobham, a violent and ambitious but weak man, had engaged in private dealings with the Spanish am- bassador, which brought him under the suspicion of the Government. By a device of Cecil's, he was induced, in a fit of anger, and in the belief that Raleigh had given information against him, to accuse Sir Walter himself of being privy to a con- spiracy against the Government. This charge Cobham retracted, confirmed, and retracted again, behaving in so equivocal a manner, that no reliance whatever can be placed on any of his assertions. But as the king was afraid of Raleigh as much as the secretary hated him, this vague charge, unsupported by other evidence, was made, sufficient to commit him to the Tower ; and, after being plied with private examin- FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. ations, in which nothing criminal could be elicited, he was brought to trial November 17, 1603. It is reported to have been said by one of the judges who presided over it, on his deathbed, that "the justice of Eng- land had never been so degraded and in- jured as by the condemnation of Sir Walter Raleigh." The behaviour of the victim himself was the object of universal admir- ation, for the tempered mixture of patience and noble spirit with which he bore the oppressive measure dealt to him. He had before been unpopular; but it was re- corded by an eye-witness that " he behaved himself so worthily, so wisely, and so tem- perately, that in half a day the mind of all the company was changed from the ex- tremest hate to the extremest pity." The sentence of death thus unfairly and disgracefully obtained was not immediately carried into execution. James was not satisfied with the evidence adduced on the trial ; and believing at the same time that Raleigh had been plotting against him, he set his royal wit to dive into the mystery. Of the singular scene which our British Solomon devised it is not necessary to speak, since Raleigh was not an actor in it. But as no more evidence could be ob- tained against him even by the king's saga- city, he was reprieved, and remanded to the Tower, where the next twelve years of his life were spent in confinement. For- tunately, he had never ceased to cultivate literature with a zeal not often found in the soldier and politician, and he now beguiled the tedium of his lot by an entire devotion to those studies which before had only served to diversify his more active and en- grossing pursuits. Of his poetical talents we have already made short mention : to the end of life he continued the practice of pouring out his mind in verse, and there are several well-known and beautiful pieces expressive of his feelings in prison, and in the anticipation of immediate death, es- pecially " The Lie," and the beautiful little poem called " The Pilgrimage." He also possessed a strong turn for mathematics, and studied them with much success in the society and under the guidance of his friend Thomas Hariot, one of the most accom- plished mathematicians of the age. Chem- istry was another favourite pursuit, in which, according to the standard of his contem- poraries, he made great progress. But the most important occupation of his imprison- ment was the composition of his " History of the World." Notwithstanding the quaint- ness of the style and the discursive manner in which the subject is treated, it is im- possible to read this volume without ad- miring the wonderful extent of the author's reading, not only in history, but in philo- sophy, theology, and even the ponderous and untempting stores of Rabbinical learn- ing. Many of the chapters relate to sub- jects which few persons would expect to find in a history of the world ; yet these will often be found among the most in- teresting and characteristic portions of the book ; and its deep learning is relieved and set off by passages of genuine eloquence, which display to the best advantage the author's rich imagination and grasp of mind. The work extends from the Crea- tion to the end of the second Macedonian war. Raleigh meant to bring it down to modern times; but the untimely death of Henry, Prince of Wales, for whose use it was composed, deprived him of the spirit to proceed with so laborious an undertaking. Raleigh enjoyed the confidence of that gen- erous youth in a remarkable degree, and maintained a close correspondence with him on civil, military, and naval subjects. Several discourses on these topics, addressed to the prince, will be found in the edition? of Raleigh's works. Henry repaid these services with sincere friendship and admir- ation ; and we may presume that his ad- viser looked forward to that friendship, not only for a cessation of misfortune, but for a more brilliant period of favour and power than he had yet enjoyed. Fortunately, however, this calamity was preceded by the death of his arch-enemy, Cecil ; and through the mediation of the Duke of Buckingham, employed in consideration of ^1,500 paid to his uncles, Sir William, THE PRINCE OF DISCOVERERS. Sir John, and Sir Edward Villiers, Raleigh was released from the Tower, in March, 1615; and obtained permission to follow up his long-cherished scheme of establish- ing a colony in Guiana and working a gold- mine, of which he had ascertained the existence and situation. The terms on which this licence was granted are remarkable. He was not pardoned, but merely let loose on the en- gagement of his friends, the Earls of Arundel and Pembroke, that he should return to England. Neither did James contribute to the expense of the under- taking, though it was stipulated that he was to receive a fifth part of the bullion imported. The necessary funds were pro- vided out of the wreck of Raleigh's fortune (his estate of Sherborne had been forfeited), and by those private adventurers who were willing to risk something in reliance on his experience and judgment. A fleet of four- teen sail was thus provided, and Raleigh, by letters under the privy seal, was ap- pointed commander-in-chief and governor of the intended colony. He relied, it is said, on the full powers granted him by this commission as necessarily including a re- mission of all past offences, and therefore neglected to sue out a formal pardon, which at this period probably would hardly have been denied him. The results of this disastrous voyage must be shortly given. Raleigh sailed March 28, 161 7, and reached the coast of Guiana in November following. Being himself disabled by sickness from proceed- ing farther, he despatched a party to the mine under the command of Captain Key- mis, an officer who had served in the former voyage to Guiana. But during the interval which had elapsed since Ra- leigh's first discovery of that country, the Spaniards had extended their settlements into it, and in particular had built a town called Santa Thome, in the immediate neighbourhood of the mine in question. James, with his usual duplicity, while he authorized the expedition, revealed every particular connected with it to trie Spanish ambassador. The English therefore were expected in the Orinoco, and preparation had been made for repelling them by force. Keymis and his men were unexpectedly attacked by the garrison of Santa Thome, and a sharp contest ensued, in which the English gained the advantage, and burnt the town. In this action Raleigh's eldest son was killed. The Spaniards still occu- pied the passes to the mine, and after an unsuccessful attempt to dislodge them, Keymis abandoned the enterprise, and returned to the ships. Raleigh's corre- spondence expresses in affecting terms his grief and indignation at this double mis- fortune : the loss of a brave and promising son, and the destruction of the hopes which he had founded on this long-cherished ad- venture. On his return to England, he found himself marked out for a victim to appease the resentment of the Spanish court, to which he had long been an object of fear and hatred. He quietly surrendered himself to Sir Lewis Stewkeley, who was sent to Plymouth to arrest him, and com- menced the journey to London under his charge. But his mind fluctuated between the desire to confront his enemies, and a sense of the hopelessness of obtaining justice ; and he was at last entrapped by the artifices of the emissaries of Govern- ment who surrounded him into an attempt to escape, in which he was arrested and com- mitted to close custody in the Tower. Here his conversation and correspondence were narrowly watched, in the hopes that a trea- sonable understanding with the French Government, from which he had received the offer of an asylum in France, might be established against him. His conduct abroad had already been closely scruti- nised, in the hope of finding some act of piracy, or unauthorized aggression against Spain, for which he might be brought to trial. Both these hopes failing, and his death, in compliment to Spain, being re- solved on, it was determined to carry into effect the sentence passed fifteen years be- fore, from which he had never been legally released ; and a warrant was accordingly G 8j FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. issued to the judges, requiring them to order execution. The case was a novel one, and threw that learned body into some perplexity. They determined, however, that after so long an interval execution could not be granted without allowing the prisoner the opportunity of pleading against it ; and Raleigh was therefore brought to the bar of the Court of King's Bench, October 28, 1618. The record of his conviction having been read, he was asked whether he could urge anything why the sentence should not be carried into effect. He insisted on the nature of his late commission, and on that plea being overruled, submitted with his usual calmness and dignity. The execu- tion, with indecent haste, was ordered to take place on the following morning. In this last stage of life, his greatness of mind shone with even more than its usual lustre. Calm, and fearless without bravado, his be- haviour and speech expressed the piety and resignation of a Christian, with the habitual coolness of one who has braved death too often to shrink at its approach. The accounts of his deportment on the scaffold effectually refute the charges of irreligion and atheism which some writers have brought against him, unless we make up our minds to believe him an accomplished hypocrite. He spoke at considerable length, and his dying words have been faithfully reported. They contain a denial of all the serious offences laid to his charge, and ex- press his forgiveness of those even who had betrayed him under the mask of friendship. After delivering this address, and spending some time in prayer, he laid his head on the block, and breathing a short private prayer, gave the signal to the executioner, Not being immediately obeyed, he partially raised his head, and said, " What dost thou fear ? Strike, man ! " and underwent the fatal blow without shrinking or alteration of po- sition. He died in his sixty-sixth year. Raleigh sat in several Parliaments, and took an active part in the business of the House. His speeches, preserved in the Journals, are said by Mr. Tytler to be remarkable for an originality and free- dom of thought far in advance of the time. His expression was varied and animated, and his powers of conversation remarkable. His person was dignified and handsome, and he excelled in bodily accomplish- ments and martial exercises. He was very fond of paintings, and of music ; and in literature as in art, he possessed a culti- vated and correct taste. He was one of those rare men who seem qualified to excel in all pursuits alike ; and his talents were set off by an extraordinary laboriousness and capacity of application. As a naviga- tor, soldier, statesman, and historian, his name is intimately and honourably linked with one of the most brilliant periods of British history. A list of Raleigh's numerous works is given in the " Biographia Britannica." They will be found collected in eight volumes, in the Oxford edition of 1829. Several of his MSS. are preserved in the British Museum. ADOLPJIE THIERS THE STATESMAN. ADOLPHE THIERS THE STATESMAN dolphe Thiers was born, if we may believe the statements often made while he was alive to contradict them, the son of either a small locksmith or a poor dock labourer at Mar- seilles. Be this, however, true or false, it is certain that his parents were descended from a stock belonging to the plebeian part of the community, the village bourgeoisie. Marseilles was the place of his birth ; and its date was the 16th of April, 1797. He was baptized by the names of Louis Adolphe. His education he owed to a "bourse," or exhibition, which took him when young to the Lycee of his native city. This help he gained, it is said, through the influence of his mother, who was a mem- ber of the well-known family of Chenier. He was brought up in the Protestant faith, to which it is said his parents before him belonged ; but little respecting the early struggles of his life has transpired, except that on leaving his Lycee, at eighteen years of age, he studied law, with more or less success, at Aix, and two years later passed as an avocat. M. Thiers now engaged in the contests of political controversy, and became a member of the circle which assembled in the well-known political salens of the banker FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. Laffitte.. Such was his position when, in 1829, the Bourbon dynasty, in its last phase, under Charles X., with Polignac as his Minister, blundered into their fatal con- flict with the defenders of " the Charter/' M. Thiers did his part, along with other men of still greater standing than himself, to carry on that contest against the Royal prerogative which brought about the " Re- volution of July." But he endeavoured at that time to dissuade the people from actual insurrection, thinking that, whatever course was abstractedly true and right, they had not then the strength to insure success. The people, however, showed that they knew better than M. Thiers, their cwn "strength"; they raised the standard of the tricolour and flew to the barricades, and found their cause crowned with suc- cess. It should be mentioned here that on the day of the promulgation of the famous "Ordinances" (July 26th) it was M. Thiers who was commissioned by the Liberal Deputies and journalists of Paris to draw up a formal protest against them. It was he, too, who, on the abdication of Charles, proposed the nomination of Louis Philippe, then Duke of Orleans, to fill the vacant throne. It was he, too, who went to Neuilly along with the painter, Ary Scheffer, the personal friend of the Duchess of Orleans, to convey the offer of the Crown to her husband, who happened at the moment to be away from home. At first, however, under the new regime, being returned as Deputy for Aix, he showed no ambition for any high office, but contented himself with the very sub- ordinate post of Assistant-Secretary of State for the Finance Department, the head of which was his friend Laffitte the wealthy banker, the Baring, Rothschild, or Over- stone of Paris at that date. He soon acquired a high degree of Parliamentary influence and importance, being acknow- ledged on all sides to be one of the ablest debaters in the Legislative Assembly. " Gifted by nature with a small figure and a weak voice," wrote one who knew him at this time, " M. Thiers's power is not that of a physical, but of an intellectual pre- sence. With a mind wonderfully swift, sharp, clear, and acute within a certain range of thought, adroit in logical discus- sion, in rhetorical insinuation, in the state ment of a case for effect, he pays attention to every subject of political or administra- tive interest as it arises in France, and makes the most of it, turning it always to account in some way or other." This was especially true of his career for the first ten years of Louis Philippe's reign, when his amazing activity was shown in the long list of political measures with which he was concerned, either as deviser, promoter, or opponent, whether in or out of office, proving himself the most versatile of the statesmen of his time. In October, 1832, he succeeded M. Casimir-Perier as Minister of the Interior, in which capacity it fell to his lot to arrest the Duchesse de Berri in La Vende'e ; but he exchanged that post within a few months for the Ministry of Commerce and of Public Works. In consequence, however, of the growing activity of the Ultra-Re- volutionary party, M. Thiers soon returned to the Ministry of the Interior, and had the satisfaction of putting down an insur- rection at Lyons and another in Paris without any great effusion of blood. He held this position — his unpopularity with the pronounced Republicans being aug- mented by the zeal with which he enforced the " Laws of September " against the Press, which were enacted after the dastardly attempt of Fieschi and his "infernal machine " against the life of the Citizen King — until the commencement of 1836, when he gained the summit of his ambition, being appointed to the Presidency of the Council, together with the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. But Louis Philippe chose not only to " reign," but to " govern " as well ; and, as M. Thiers could not persuade the King to second his own ambitious schemes of intervention in Spain, he re signed. Retiring into private life, he devoted himself to the labour of collecting material; ADOLPIIE THIERS THE STATESMAN. 85 for his intended " History of the Consulate and the Empire," which he looked for- ward to as the magnum opus of his life. Thenceforth peace between France and Europe was tolerably safe under Louis Philippe, although the scheme of fortifying Paris, which M. Thiers had announced as necessary, could not well be abandoned, and, in fact, was fully developed in 1841 by a Committee which was presided over by M. Thiers, though out of office. From this date down to the year 1848 M. Thiers continued to act as leader of the " Centre Left Opposition " in the Chamber, advo- cating a "Liberal domestic policy," together with a restless interference and defiance of England and Austria in foreign affairs. The Revolution of February found him dressed in the uniform of a National Guard — in spite of his diminutive stature — and carrying a musket in the streets of Paris. He was invited, along with M. Odillon- Barrot, to make an effort " to save the Monarchy," but the invitation came too late for him to respond to its call. At that crisis his chief efforts in the cause of order, in antagonism to the Communists and Socialists, were the publication of his treatise, " Du Droit de Propriete'," and in the following year of another of a kin- dred nature, entitled " Du Communisme." Elected to the Assembly for the Depart- ment of the Lower Seine in the June fol- lowing the Revolution, he attached himself to the Moderate party, and opposed the Socialist principles of the day with all his eloquence. It is worthy of note that, in spite of having up to that time opposed Prince Louis Napoleon's pretensions to the Presidency of the Republic, he now gave his vote in his favour. But this he probably did because, though never a Republican at heart, he accepted the Re- public and desired to give it a Conservative turn and tendency. With the same strong Conservative feeling working within him, he supported the French intervention at Rome, and, though not a Catholic, he up- held against all Radicals, Republicans, and other enemies the temporal power of the Pope as a matter of policy necessary in order to insure the peace of Europe. In 1850, with the aid of the Conservative majority, he helped to carry the restriction of universal suffrage, in order to prevent, if possible, the re-election of the Prince- President. At this time Louis Napoleon had become obnoxious to that party, who suspected him of a secret design to seize upon absolute power ; while he, on the other hand, suspected them of an inten- tion to restore the Orleans Monarchy, if they could see a chance of doing so. Such being the case, M. Thiers, in spite of his vote the year before, had become by the force of circumstances one of the Prince's chief antagonists ; and, consequently, when the Coup d' Etat of December, 1851, was struck, M. Thiers was one of those leading statesmen whose arrest was ordered and carried into effect. He was seized and forcibly taken out of his bed at an early hour of the morning, and, by the Prince's order, confined for some days in the prison of Mazas. He was, however, soon released, sent off to Strasburgh by railway under guard, and set free on the other side of the Rhine. Thiers now sought a refuge and a home at Frankfort, where he wisely made the most of his time by paying visits, for the purposes of his History, to the chief battle-fields of the Empire. In August, 1852, however, he availed himself of Louis Napoleon's permission to return to Paris ; but it was not until after the appearance of the Im- perial decree of November 24th, i860, that he was able, with any appearance of self-respect, to resume his place in the arena of politics. He denounced the financial extravagance of the Imperial Government, and censured its wars in Italy and Mexico as political blunders, and also its abstinence from hostility towards Prussia in 1866, and incessantly protested against ignoring the movements made by the Italians and the Germans towards the com- pletion of their national unity respectively. It cannot, therefore, be denied that M. Thiers was as much responsible as any of FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. his countrymen for evoking the feelings of irritation which gave rise to the war against Prussia in 1870; and though he disap- proved its actual declaration, it was not that he censured the war per se, but only because he thought the opportunity ill- chosen, since France was not adequately prepared. When the Empire fell at Sedan, and the German Generals pushed on to invest Paris, M. Thiers came again to the front, and was returned to the Assembly which professed to represent France, for a time at least, by more than twenty different de- partments, the aggregate number of votes recorded in his favour being upwards of a million. He now became, almost without seeking it, the foremost man in France. He was one of the few distinguished persons who had never held office under the late Emperor, and, such being the case, the nation saw at least one reason for accepting him as the Deus ex machina who should solve their diffi- culties and rid them of the invader. Were not the forts round Paris M. Thiers's work forty years ago ? And would he not be the saviour of the nation now ? And during the war, when in his seventy-fifth year, did not the brave and courageous old man make the tour of all Europe in the winter, visiting London, St. Petersburg!-), Vienna, and Florence, in the hope — vain and idle as it proved — of persuading the neutral Courts to intervene with Germany on behalf of his fallen and defeated country- men? Did he not, with the same object in view, hold parley with Count Bismarck in the Prussian camp before Paris ? Thus the virtual dictatorship of France passed into his hands. He was declared President of the existing Executive Government, having the responsibility of selecting the members of his Administration. He soon found, however, that it was not only the Germans with whom, as President of the Republic of France, he had to con- tend. Establishing his head-quarters at Versailles immediately after the evacuation of that. fair city by the Prussian forces, he prepared to set to work without delay at the task of " reorganizing " France, her army, and her institutions, when he suddenly found himself confronted by the Com- munists, who had seized upon Paris as soon as the backs of the Prussians were turned. Aided by Marshal MacMahon, but only after a delay which enabled the Commune to burn down half the public buildings of Paris, and to murder her Arch- bishop and a number of helpless and un- offending priests and nuns, he was able to retake Paris, and in the end to restore order, though not until his own hotel in the Place de St. Georges had been razed to the ground. In spite, however, of all this dis- couragement, the brave old man never lost heart, and though, as soon as " order " and the forms of judicial trial could be observed, the Communists were brought to justice, we never heard it said that M. Thiers in- sisted on bringing any special vengeance down upon the heads of the ringleaders in that special act of irahison. In spite, it may be added, of a civil out- break worse than foreign war ; in spite of streets which had been made to run red with blood, M. Thiers contrived, as Pre- sident of the Republic, to pay when due the first instalment of twenty millions which, on behalf of and in the name of the French people, he had agreed to pay towards the war indemnity demanded by the German conquerors. Occasionally during those two years rumours were spread to the effect that old age, or illness, or dis- satisfaction with his colleagues, was about to tempt kirn to resign ; but he adhered with a steady and persistent vigour, like a far younger man, to the role which he had undertaken to play. After his final retire- ment from the Presidency, the voice oi M. Thiers was not often heard in public ; but though he spent his leisure in the pursuit of those literary studies to which he had been devoted as a young man and in middle life, he was not the less regarded as the chief and centre of French Constitu- tionalism. CAPTAIN EADS AND THE MISSISSIPPI JETTIES. 8 J CAPTAIN EAD£ AND THE JVII££I££IPPI IE£. JETT 1859, a committee from the New Orleans Chamber of Commerce visited the mouth of the Mississippi at its largest outlet — South-west Pass, to see what detention vessels were subjected to in passing in and out. They found the bar blocked with a vessel, while fifty-five other vessels were waiting to come in and go out. The total amount of freight on board the outgoing vessels was 7,367,339 pounds. Some of these ves- sels had been there for weeks, waiting for a chance to go to sea. So common were these detentions that the usual expression of pilots and tow-boat men was not that a vessel " went to sea " on such a day, but that "she was put on the bar," with the understanding, of course, that she was 10 be pulled at by tow-boats for days and perhaps weeks. The river at the head of the passes finds its way to the Gulf of Mexico through three different channels. The South-west Pass, the broadest and deepest of them all, trends to the right, and Pass a l'Outre, the next in size, to the east ; while lying between these two and more nearly in the direct course of the river is the South Pass. The river just before its subdivision is one mile and three- quarters wide, forty feet deep, and carries every minute, when at flood, 72,000,000 cubic feet of water to the gulf, or enough to fill Broadway, New York, sixty feet deep from the Battery to Madison Square. Every cubic foot of this vast volume of water contains nearly two cubic inches of sand and mud. Enough earth matter, it is estimated, is annually thrown in the gulf to build a prism one mile square and 268 feet thick. The comparative volumes of water flowing through the three passes are ap- proximately as follows : South-west Pass carries fifty per cent, of the whole river, Pass a, l'Outre forty per cent., and South Pass ten per cent. At the mouth of each pass is a bar over which there is more or less depth of water. At South-west Pass the depth of water on the bar is about thirteen feet, at Pass a l'Outre it is ten feet, at South Pass, before the construction ot the jetties, it was eight feet. The crests of these bars are not immediately at the end of the land, but from two and a half to five miles out in the gulf. Through the whole length of the passes there is a deep channel (uniform for each pass) about 1200 or 1500 feet wide in the two large passes, and 600 feet wide in the South Pass, and the depths are about fifty feet in the large passes and thirty-five feet in the South Pass. The banks, although composed of the deposits of the pass itself, — sand and clay, — are sufficiently tenacious to confine the water, and thus give it the requisite scouring power to excavate and maintain a deep channel, but as soon as this confined volume reaches the land's end of the passes, it spreads out instantly to the right and left, and, losing a portion of its velocity by this diffusion, is no longer able to carry all its sediment, but drops it upon the submerged banks. The central thread of the current, how- ever, maintains its velocity for some distance into the gulf, but, gradually losing it, scat- ters its load of sand and clay over a wide plateau. New floods coming down bring more sediment, which is deposited further out than that of the preceding flood, and thus the bars for all time are advancing with more or less rapidity into the gulf. At the South Pass, this advance was at the rate of about 100 feet per annum ; at the South-west Pass over 300 feet per annum. FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. 83 Within the conditions of the difficulty to navigation at the mouth of the Mississippi has been found the clue to its solution ; for just as fast as the pass builds the bar out into the gulf, just so fast it excavates a channel behind it. So that at the South Pass, for instance, while one hundred feet was each year added to its bar, — located two and one-quarter miles from land's end, — it at the same time added one hundred feet to its banks, and thus confined the water sufficiently to deepen the new chan- nel during the year to the same depth found elsewhere in the pass. Captain Eads, catch- ing this suggestion from nature, reasoned that if he could extend the banks of the pass, not gradually at the rate of 100 feet per annum, as nature was doing, but imme- diately two and a quarter miles out over this bar into the deep water of the gulf, he would produce sufficient power to exca- vate not only the 100 linear feet per annum, which nature was doing, but the whole length of the bar from thirty feet depth at the land's end to thirty feet in the Gulf of Mexico. Although the bar extended out from the end of the land two and a quarter miles, yet the depths of water found at different points varied greatly. At half a mile from the land's end, it was about twenty feet ; at one mile distance, it was fifteen feet ; at one and three-quarter miles, it was ten feet ; and from this point to nearly the outer edge of the bar, it varied from eight to ten feet, with a somewhat slighter depth at the crest of the bar. From this point there was a comparatively rapid descent into the deep water of the gulf. The Mississippi River may be justly con- sidered as the trade outlet of a vast empire. The tributary region, having an area of one and a quarter millions of square miles, is more than equal to the whole extent of Europe, leaving out Russia, Norway, and Sweden. This area has a population of at least twenty millions, and produces yearly about one billion bushels of cereals, two million bales of cotton, and two hundred thousand hogsheads of sugar. A large part of this agricultural district is so far distant from the markets of the eastern sea-board, that its products do not prove profitable if transported by rail. The development of the valley resulted from time to time in the improvement of the river and its tributaries. Since 1839, efforts have been made to deepen the channel at the bars of South-west Pass and Pass a l'Outre. At one time provisional jetties were attempted, but the project was abandoned for want of means. Expensive dredge-boats were constructed by the Go- vernment to work on the bar, at an annual cost of about 250,000 dollars, and according to the report of a board of United States engineers, there was in 1872 and 1873 a depth of from thirteen to twenty feet on the South-west Pass bar, but the hope was not encouraged that a channel could be main- tained of more than eighteen feet depth. Meanwhile, the tonnage of vessels im- porting and exporting between the eastern sea-board of this country and foreign ports, had largely increased, so that a ship of from 1,200 to 1,800 tons burden was the ordinary size ; yet the average size of vessels enter- ing the port of New Orleans, prior to the opening of the mouth of the river by jetties, was not over 700 tons. During all the previous years, both before and after the attempts to open it by dredging and other means, it was the exception rather than the rule, for a loaded vessel to pass over the bar without detention. This was the condition of the bar, and such were the obstructions to commerce, when, in the winter of 1874, Captain James B. Eads appeared before Congress and offered to open the mouth of the river by jetties, stipulating that he should take no remuneration for his work until a channel from the deep water of the pass to the deep water of the gulf had been secured. The maximum depth to be obtained was thirty feet ; and neither that nor the intermediate depths was to be paid for until the work was complete. Although offering to do this work at his own risk and expenses, he met with a most determined opposition, both CAPTAIN EADS AND THE MISSISSIPPI JETTIES. 89 from Government engineers and from the very section of the country which would be most largely benefited by a deep channel to the gulf. The people seemed to have become indoctrinated with the belief that an expensive canal, and not an open river mouth was the best solution of the problem. Captain Eads and his opponents before Congress held views diametrically opposed to each other. General Humphreys, the chief of engineers, in published pamphlets, and, moreover, in statements before the Congressional committees, contended that it would not only be impossible to build jetties and maintain them, for various rea- sons, on account of the unstable nature of the foundation on which they would rest, the undermining action of the river currents and the violence of the storm waves ; but that, even if these were constructed and maintained, the bar would advance so much more rapidly than before, that the jetties would need to be extended 600 feet every year to keep pace with this accelerated advance. Captain Eads contended that the river is a transporter of solid matter to the sea; that the amount transported de- pends upon its velocity modified by the depth of the water ; that this principle determines the channel and the bars ; that, if the banks of the pass were extended in parallel lines as they are by nature, the result would be an increased velocity, and this increased velocity would enable the river to pick up the particles of which the bar is composed, and carry them far out to sea, where under the influence of the gulf currents they would be swept away ; that as the crest of the bar was two and a quarter miles from the land's end, the crest of the new bar when formed could not possibly be nearer than two and a quarter miles from the end of the jetties, and that probably under the new conditions the formation of another bar would not take place for a century or two. These views were so clearly and forcibly explained to members of Congress, that, in March, 1875, a bill was passed by which Captain Eads and his associates were authorized to construct and maintain jetties and auxiliary works for deepening the bar at the mouth of South Pass between the pass and the Gulf of Mexico. It was the earnest wish of Captain Eads, — a wish which he urged in vain to the last hour of the session of Congress, — to improve the bar at the mouth of South-west Pass, be- cause the greater depth and width of that pass afforded an unobstructed outlet for the commerce of the valley, and one able to meet its increasing necessities. The width of the channel here through the ietties would have been 1,500 feet, while that of the South Pass is but 700 feet. Immediately after the passage of the act, preparations were made for beginning the works. A contract was entered into with Colonel James Andrews, of Alleghany, Pa., the successful builder of the foundations of the St. Louis bridge. He arrived at the mouth of South Pass about the middle of June, 1875, bringing with him the necessary plant and force, and began work in earnest. T>y his indomitable will and untiring energy Colonel Andrews has proved himself equal to the task of carrying through to complete success this great and difficult undertaking. Let me describe the surroundings here, as they appeared at the time of our arrival. Climb with me seventy-five feet to the top of the light-house : there is no other eleva- tion or building within ten miles ; you cast your eye over not exactly a landscape or a waterscape but an amphibio-scape of water, mud, reeds, and alligators, — not an eleva- tion as far as the eye or glass can reach that one could not easily leap over, except a solitary mud-lump lying off to the westward ; an unbroken horizon of sky and water on every side. Fourteen and a half miles to the east lies the low green bank of Pass a TO utre ; as many miles to the west is the dim horizon line of the South-west Pass. A light-house stands at the mouth of each of these passes, and ten miles away to the north-west is barely distinguishable another, which marks the head of the passes. Half- way up the South Pass we see Bayou Grande diverging and flowing to the west- FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. ward, carrying off about twenty-seven per cent, of its waters ; while everywhere from the north-east to the south-west the rolling waters of the Gulf of Mexico stretch to the horizon. This beautiful ship canal, South Pass, though small when compared with the other outlets, is large enough to meet any present or future need. The jetties, let it be understood, are intended simply as a nucleus around and upon which Nature can build her banks, and so, some of the work, since it was to be solidified by the processes of nature, has been of a comparatively imperfect charac- ter. Several objects were sought in their location : i st. To lay them out in such a direction that they should be both parallel with the river currents, and, where they project into the gulf, at right angles to the currents that sweep along the shore. 2nd. To place them as far apart as was possible consistently with the necessary concentration of the volume of water, and at the same time to remove the jetties themselves from the undermining action of the river currents. The jetty lines were marked out first on paper, and then at times with considerable difficulty on the bar. It will be seen that there were no landmarks near the line of the jetties from which measurements could be taken to locate the guide-piling. Here and there, perhaps a mile or more apart, were temporary stations or tripods marking triangulated points, which had been estab- lished during the preceding winter by the United States Coast Survey. From these, by careful calculations and instrumental work, the jetty lines were laid out in an easy curve, extending from land's end on the east to a point two and a quarter miles out in the gulf. The piling which marked the jetty lines was driven in various depths of water from four to thirty feet, and the foundation, which it had been prophesied would prove so unstable, was found to be so solid that a namraer. weighing 3000 pounds and falling nineteen feet could not with eighty blows force the pile more than seventeen feet into the bottom. The jetties are constructed principally of willows. These trees grow in great abun- dance about twenty-five miles up the river, and vary in size from one to two and a half inches at the butt, and from fifteen to thirty feet in length. They are, however, not as pliable and easily twisted and tied as the osier willow, used on similar works in Europe. A peculiar construction was adopted by which these willows could be used most economically and at the same time suit the existing conditions, expecting that, in whatever manner they might be put into the water, they would soon fill with sediment. It was not necessary to make as firm and compact a construction as would have been required if the whole jetty had been thrown out on some stormy coast into the clear salt water of the ocean. The con- struction most closely resembling that em- ployed here was that used at the mouth of the Maas in Holland. There they con- structed zink-stukken, or mattresses of willow fascines, or bundles of willows compactly tied together. These fascines were laid close together and then others placed over them at right angles and all intermediate spaces filled with willows packed in closely. The several courses of fascines were then tied together tightly with cords or ropes, and the raft thus built was floated out to its place and sunk with gravel and stone. The plan adopted by Captain Eads is much more simple in construction and is more economical. As this is the most important part of the construction of the jetties we will describe it in detail. Along the bank of the pass near the land's end were built inclined ways at right angles to the shore line and extending back from the river bank about fifty feet. On these ways the mattresses were to be made. The inclines are so constructed that while the ends of the timbers are under water at the river they are about six feet above the level of the water at the other, or shore, end. These timbers are spaced about six feet apart, and are parallel with each other ; a CAPTAIN EADS AND THE MISSISSIPPI JETTIES. 9 a ribbon is spiked lengthwise on top of each one, the upper edge of which is rounded off; underneath the timbers are nailed inch boards, so that the men in working on the ways will not fall through. The ways are now ready for the mattress, which is built in the following manner : The strips for the frames of the mat- tresses are piled up just above the ends of the ways. These strips are two and a half by six inches and from twenty-five to forty- five feet long ; the mattresses being usually one hundred feet long, the strips are cut to make that length when joined. They are placed on trucks and wheeled to that part of the ways where the mattress is to be built. After being lifted upon the ways the joints are fastened by a lap of the same material about six feet long, which is spiked to the strips. If the mattress is to be forty feet wide, nine strips are prepared. Holes are now bored through these strips one and one-eightli inches in diameter and spaced five feet apart. Hickory pins, whose ends have been turned to fit the holes tightly, are driven into them and oak wedges driven into the lower ends of the pins, with twenty- penny nails to keep the pins steady. The strips, with the pins standing upright, are moved down the ways and spaced four feet and six inches apart. If the mattress is to be two feet thick, — the usual size, — the pins are cut thirty inches long, except the outer row on either side which is thirty-two inches. A part of the mattress-gang now climb upon the willow-barge and pass the willows down to other workmen standing on the frame, who place them carefully side by side on the strips across the frame. After a course about six inches thick is placed, another is laid lengthwise with the frame, then another at right angles to the last, and so on till the willows stand above the tops of the pins. In placing the wil- lows the brushy tops are laid so as to project three or four feet outside the frame. The men then bore holes in other strips about forty feet long, place them across the mattress and insert the pins into the holes— pressing down the cross strips with levers. Wedges and nails are driven into the ends of the pins and the mattress is ready for launching. The mattress is easily pulled oft the ways by a steam tug which tows it to its place along the jetty piling. A barge loaded with rock is then placed alongside the floating mattress and the stone distributed evenly over it until it sinks to the bottom. The foundation mattress is usually from forty to fifty feet wide, accord- ing to the depth of the water. The courses placed above it become narrower and nar- rower until they reach the surface of the water, where the average width is twenty- five feet. The last mattress is either built in place on the jetty at low tide, or built on the ways and pulled into place at high tide by a steam pile-driver, or built on tilting ways which rest on a barge from which the mattress is launched upon the jetty. When the mattresses are sunk at flood river, ail the interstices fill very quickly with sediment which serves not only to hold it more securely in place but makes it much more impervious to water. As the permanency of the jetties and other works is a matter of great importance, a description of the natural and artificial means for securing this end may be of interest. At the head of the passes, some of the works, though of a provisional and temporary character, have been rendered thoroughly permanent by the extensive deposits of sediment that have formed around them and in some cases entirely covered them. The first mile of both jetties has been rendered permanent by the same means, and all that will be required above the new shore line, previously spoken of, will be the incorporation of gravel into the top mattresses to prevent leakage through them at high tide. Beyond this shore line, a most substantial and permanent work has been applied. This consists of massive blocks of concrete composed of sand, gravel, broken stone, and Portland cement. These ingredients are mixed to- gether thoroughly by a cubical concrete steam mixer, about six feet square, con- structed on an improved plan after a design 02 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. by Captain Eads. Each block is formed in a mould in situ. The charge of concrete, about two cubic yards, on being discharged from the mixer into an iron dumping car, drawn by a small locomotive, is taken on a railroad track, which is laid upon a trestle about eight feet above the jetty, to a point immediately over the mould and dumped into it. Seventy-five cubic yards have been laid in one day at a point iooo feet from the mixer. The foundation is prepared by incorporating gravel and broken stone into the mattresses. The blocks are protected from undermining by abundant slopes of riprap. These concrete blocks increase in size as they approach the end of the jetties. There they weigh about sixty-five tons each. The substantial character of the foundation on which they rest may be understood from the fact that although they have been in place four months, they have not settled more than two inches. Where these blocks are constructed, the water was fifteen feet deep before the jetties were commenced. There are at least eight courses of mat- tresses under them. These mattresses, although built with a vertical wall against the prevailing winds, have stood intact against the tremendous wave force that has been brought to bear upon them. They are built in a locality where, if anywhere, the foundation on which they rest would be unstable. At distances of every fifty feet near the outer end of the work are built spur cribs about twenty feet square filled with rock on which a concrete block is built connected with the main blocks of the jetty. Flanking the work at the extreme sea end are massive cribs of palmetto logs filled with riprap and surmounted with larger rock. We may confidently expect from the ex- perience that the jetties have passed through during their unprotected state while under construction, that with the substantial pro- tection recently applied to them they will stand undisturbed against the most severe storms of the gulf. The materials used in all works or on hand at Port Eads are in round numbers as follows: Willows, 592,000 cubic yards: stone, 100,000 cubic yards ; gravel, 10,000 cubic yards ; concrete in place, 4,300 cubic yards or 9,000 tons ; piling and lumber, 12,000,000 feet, board measure. The difficulty and expense incurred in procuring these materials will be appre- ciated by giving the places from which they were obtained and their distances from Port Eads. The willows were brought from an extensive swamp or miniature delta called the Jump, about twenty-five miles above the jetties, and from the banks of the river as far up as the mouth of Red River, a distance of 315 miles. The greater portion of the stone came from Rose Clare, Indiana, on the Ohio River, 1,320 miles distant; much of the remainder from Vicksburg, Mississippi, and some from all parts of the world, brought here as ballast in ves- sels, and discharged either at Port Eads or New Orleans. The gravel came from an island in the Mississippi River, 260 miles above ; the sand for the concrete, from the shores of the Mississippi Sound, no miles away ; Saylor's Portland cement, from Pennsylvania, via New York, by steamers and sailing vessels ; the lumber, from Pearl River, Mississippi, 130 miles ; the palmetto logs for the crib work, from Appalachicola, Florida, 300 miles to the eastward ; and finally, 11,000 cubic yards of dirt ballast was received in vessels from foreign ports, and placed on the banks at Port Eads for raising them above the highest tides. It is not too broad an assertion to make that every theory advanced by Captain Eads, every statement made by him in re- ference to the channel which he should secure, and in reference to the advance of the bar in front of his works, has been fully verified by actual results. These results are all that the most sanguine anticipated, but the objects for which the jetties were built are of far greater importance, for they affect the welfare of millions and are destined finally to exert an influence on the whole country. DR. S CHLIEMA NN'S DISCOVERIES. A. v DR. £CHLIEM/iNN'£ DI£C0VERJE2 he names of Dr. Henry Schliemann and his accom- plished wife, Madame Schlie- mann, will ever remain famous for their discoveries in the fields of classic story. The scene of the Trojan War, situated between the Hellespont and the ^gean Sea, has been known from a very early age by the name of the Troad. It was here that Dr. Schlie- mann commenced his explorations, which he effected by excavating the summit of a low hill, called, in the Turkish language, Hissarlik, or the Fortress. In the course of his persevering research he brought to light the ruins of walls and buildings, and innumerable objects of various character and material — weapons, utensils, and orna- ments — which satisfied him, and, eventu- ally, most of the antiquaries of our time, that he had found the veritable si'e of the FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. city of Troy, the exact locality of which, and indeed its very existence, have been for a long period subjects of dispute among historians and geographers. Circumstances having rendered impracticable the con- tinuance of his investigations, he turned his attention to another region famous in classical antiquity, and having a very close historical connection with Troy. This is a district in the Morea, or Southern Greece, the ancient Peloponnesus, now part of the modern kingdom of Greece, containing the ruins of the cities of Argos, Tiryns, and Mycenae. Argos was the most ancient, but Tiryns was believed to have been built as a fortress by Prcetus, and afterwards Mycenae by Perseus, several generations before the time of Agamemnon. The ex- tensive ruins of these cities are remarkable for the specimens they afford of the rude and massive style of architecture, called Cyclopean, examples of which are also found in other parts of Greece, and in Italy and Asia Minor. In his record of his visit to Greece, Dr. Wordswoith thus writes of the ancient city of Tiryns : — <£ Exhibiting as it does the most ancient remains of the military architecture of Greece, and exciting the wonder of the beholder by the hugeness of the rude blocks with which its walls and galleries are constructed, and which called forth an epithet expressive of admiration even from the mouth of Homer himself, it survives as a striking monument of the power of men concerning whom all written history is silent. It arose and flourished in times antecedent to history, and seems to exist to make mythology credible. We are acquainted with Tiryns only as built by the Cyclopes, and as the early residence of Hercules. " In 1874 Dr. Schliemann, accompanied by his energetic wife, a true " help meet for him," commenced his work in the Acropolis of Mycenae by sinking thirty- four shafts in different places, to probe the ground, and sound the spots which it iyould be most desirable to excavate. In six of these, and especially in two about 100 yards from the Lion's Gate, he found encouraging results, and began extensive diggings. The extent of these operations may be judged of from the fact that ho employed upon them an average of one hundred and twenty-five labourers for four months. His exertions were crowned with remarkable success. He thus describes his discoveries : — " I first excavated the site of the three tombstones with the bas-reliefs representing the warriors, and found there a 2 if feet long and feet broad quad- rangular tomb cut out in the slope of the rock. In digging farther down I found from time to time a small quantity of black ashes, and in it, very frequently, some curious objects, either a bone button covered with a beautifully- engraved golden blade, or an imitation of a gazelle horn of bone, with one flat side, showing two holes, by which the object must have been attaciied to something else, or other orna- ments of bone or small gold leaf. I col- lected in this way, besides many other carious objects, twelve buttons covered with gold blades, one of them as large as a five-franc piece ; the ornaments are either spiral lines, or that curious cross with the marks of four nails which so frequently occurs on the whorls in Ilium, and which I believe to be the symbol of the holy fire. All the buttons are in the form of our shirt buttons, but of large size. Having dug down to a depth of 10 J feet, I was stopped by heavy rain, which turned the soft earth in the tomb to mud, and 1 therefore took out the unsculptured tombs of the second line, of, r which the one is 5 feet, the other $h feet long. In excavat- ing around them I found another ir feet broad and 21 feet long tomb, cut into the rock. It was entirely filled with unmixed natural earth, which had been brought there from another place. In a depth of 15 feet below the level of the rock, or of 25 feex belo\ / the former surface of the ground, I readied a layer of small stones, below which I found, at a distance of 3 feet from each other, the calcined remains of three bodies, which were only separated from the DR. SCHLIEMANN'S DISCOVERIES. 95 ground by another layer of small stones, and had evidently been burned simul- taneously in the very same place where they lay ; the masses of ashes of the clothes which had covered them, and of the wood which had consumed them, and further, the colour of the stones themselves can leave no doubt in this respect. With every one of the three bodies I found five diadems of gold, each 19 \ inches long, and in the midst 4 inches broad, but terminating at both extremities in a point. I further found with two of the bodies ten (five with each) golden crosses in the form of laurel leaves ; with the third body were only four of them ; each of the crosses is 7! inches long ; the breadth of the leaves is i| inch. As well the diadems as the leaves of the crosses show a splendid orna- mentation of impressed circles or spiral lines. I also found there many curious objects of a glazy unknown composition. Their form is difficult to describe ; all are perforated, and have evidently served as ornaments of the dead. I further found there a number of small knives of obsidian, many fragments of a gilded silver vase, of which only the upper part was well con- served ; a rustic bronze knife, a silver cup with one handle, four perforated pieces of necklace (two of stone and two of a com- position), two horned Juno idols, and finally many fragments of beautiful hand- made pottery, among which was part of a vase with two tubular holes on either side for suspension with a string. There are also fragments of terra-cotta tripods, which are of rare occurrence here, nearly all the ■vases having a flat bottom. At the bottom of the sepulchre all the four walls were lined by a 5 feet high and 1 foot 8 inches thick wall of stones, which showed unmis- takable marks of the three funeral piles. Evidently the pyres had not been large, and had been merely intended to consume the flesh of the bodies, because the bones, and even the skulls, had been preserved ; but the latter had suffered so much from the moisture that none of them could be taken out entire. " A little to the south of this excavation he found, at the depth of 16 \ feet, a sepul- chre 16 feet 8 inches long and 10 feet broad ; and at about 9 feet above this tomb, and close to it, on the slope of the rock, a number of skeletons of men, which had evidently not been burnt, and with them knives of obsidian, and five hand-made vases, two of a plain light-yellow, the three others of light-green colour, with rur^e black ornaments. " I found in this mausoleum the mortal remains of three ladies, which, like the former tomb, were covered with a layer of pebble stones and reposed on another layer of similar stones, on which the funeral piles had been dressed ; this lay on the bottom of the tomb, which was 30 feet below the surface of the mount. Precisely as in the former tomb, all the three bodies had been burnt simultaneously but sepa- rately, and at equal distances from each other. This was proved as well by the evident marks of the fire on the pebble stones below and around every one of the bodies, as by the marks of the fire and smoke on the walls to the right and left, and by the masses of wood ashes which lay on and around the corpses. The bodies were literally overwhelmed with jewels, all of which bore evident signs of the fire and smoke to which they had been exposed on the funeral piles. As the different jewels were distributed nearly in equal proportions among the three ladies, I think it superfluous to state here the objects found with each of them, and will give only a register of what I collected on the three bodies conjointly: 12 golden crowns ; 10 golden diadems, in two of which is still preserved part of the skull ; one gigantic golden crown, 2 feet 1 inch long and n inches broad, with 30 large leaves, — this crown gives us, perhaps, a specimen of an Homeric 5)oratio Nelson, perhaps the 3 A greatest sea-captain ever known, was born in 1758, at the parsonage house of Burnham-Thorpe, in Nor- folk, of which parish his father was rector. He went to sea at the age of twelve as a midshipman. In 1777 he was made a lieutenant, and in 1779 a post-captain. He now went out to the West Indies in command of the Hinchin- broke, and distinguished himself by several gallant exploits on that station. While here he married Mrs. Nesbit, the widow of a physician, by whom, however, he had no family. But the most splendid part of Nelson's career commenced with the war of 1793. It would be altogether impossible for us here to present even the most rapid recital of the numerous actions in which he bore a part from this date until his death. Among many bright names which illuminate the naval history of England, his shines the brightest of all. Wherever the cannon thundered on the deep, it might be said there was Nelson. When early in 1798 he presented his claim for a pension, in conse- quence of the loss of his right arm in an attack on Teneriffe, he stated in his memo- rial that he had been present in more than a hundred engagements. On occasion of his receiving that wound, which nearly proved fatal, he came home for a short time to England ; and Mr. Southey, by whom the story of the hero's life has been told with singular fascination, relates the following anecdote in illustration of the popular feel- ing with which he was regarded : — " His sufferings from the lost limb were long and painful. A nerve had been taken up in one of the ligatures at the time of the operation ; and the ligature, according to the practice of the French surgeons, being of silk instead of waxed thread, produced a constant irritation and discharge ; and the ends of the ligature being pulled every day, in THE HERO OF TRAFALGAR. hopes of bringing it away, occasioned fresh agony. He had scarcely any intermission of pain day or night for three months after his return to England. Lady Nelson at his earnest request attended the dressing his arm till she acquired sufficient resolution and skill to dress it herself. One night during this state of suffering, after a day of constant pain, Nelson retired early to bed in hope of enjoying some respite by means of laudanum. He was at that time lodging in Bond Street, and the family was soon disturbed by a mob knocking loudly and violently at the door. The news of Dun- can's victory had been made public, and the house was not illuminated. But when the mob were told that Admiral Nelson lay there badly wounded, the foremost of them made answer, 1 You shall hear no more from us to-night ;' and in fact the feeling of respect and sympathy was communicated with such effect that, under the confusion of such a night, the house was not molested again." Nelson's two greatest victories, as all our readers know, were those of the Nile and of Trafalgar. The first was gained on the ist of August, 1798, and effected the complete destruction of the enemy's force ; all their ships except two being either captured or sunk. For this brilliant achievement he was raised to the peerage by the title of Baron Nelson of the Nile. The battle of Trafalgar was fought on the 2 1 st of October, 1805, and there this re- nowned captain fell, amid the blaze of the most splendid triumph ever gained upon the seas. Before the battle Nelson retired to his cabin and wrote the following prayer : "May the great God whom I worship grant to my country, and for the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory, and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it ; and may humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the British fleet ! For myself individually I commit my life to Him that made me; and may His blessing alight on my endeavours to serve my country faithfully! To Him I resign myself, and the just cause which is entrusted to me to defend. Amen. Amen. Amen." Certain of a triumphant issue to the day he asked Captain Blackwood what he should consider as a victory. That officer answered that, considering the handsome way in which battle was offered by the enemy, their apparent determination for a fair trial of strength, and the situation of the land, he thought it would be a glorious result if fourteen ships were captured. Nelson re- plied, " I shall not be satisfied with less than twenty." Soon afterwards he asked him if he did not think there was a signal wanting. Captain Blackwood made answer that he thought the whole fleet seemed very clearly to understand what they were about. These words were scarcely spoken before that signal was made, which will be remem- bered as long as the language of England shall endure : " England expects every man to do his duty ! " It was received throughout the fleet with a shout of answer- ing acclamation, made sublime by the spirit which it breathed, and the feeling which it expressed. " Now," said Lord Nelson, " I can do no more. We must trust to the Great Disposer of all events, and the justice of our cause. I thank God for this great opportunity of doing my duty." He wore that day, as usual, his admiral's frock coat, bearing on the left breast four stars, of the different orders with which he was invested. Ornaments which rendered him so conspicuous a mark for the enemy were beheld with apprehensions by his officers. It was known that there were riflemen on board the French ships, and it could not be doubted but that his life would be particularly aimed at. But he resisted all entreaties to change his dress. " In honour I gained them," he said, " and Jn honour I will die with them." And die he did. It had been part of his prayer that his seamen might be distin- guished for humanity in the victory which he expected. Setting an example himself, he twice gave orders to cease firing upon the Redoubtable, supposing that she had ioS FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. struck, because her great guns were silent ; for as she carried no flag, there were no means of instantly ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had twice spared, he received his death. A ball fired from her mizenmast-top, which, in the then situa- tion of the Victory, was not more than rifteen yards from that part of the deck nnere he was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder. He fell on his face, on the spot which was covered with his secretary's blood. Captain Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round, saw three men raising him up. " They have done for me at last, Hardy," said he. "I hope not!" cried Hardy. "Yes," he replied; " my backbone is shot through." Yet even then, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed, as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller ropes, which had been shot away, had not been replaced, and he ordered that new ones should be rove immediately. Then, that he might not be seen by the crew, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his face and his stars. Three hours and three quarters after he had received his wound he died, his last words being, " Thank God, I have done my duty ! " In reference to Nelson's character as an officer, Mr. Southey says : " Never was any commander more beloved. He governed men by their reason and their affections ; they knew that he was incapable of caprice or tyranny, and they obeyed him with alacrity and joy because he possessed their confidence as well as their love. ' Our Nel,' they used to say, 'is as brave as a lion and as gentle as a lamb.' Severe dis- cipline he detested, though he had been bred in a severe school. He never inflicted corporal punishment if it were possible to avoid it; and when compelled to enforce it, he who was familiar with wounds and death suffered like a woman. In his whole life Nelson was never known to act un- kindly towards an officer. If he was asked to prosecute one for ill-behaviour, he used to answer, ' That there was no occasion for him to ruin a poor devil who was suffi- ciently his own enemy to ruin himself.' Tc his midshipmen he ever showed the most winning kindness, encouraging the diffident, tempering the hasty, counselling and be friending both." It was the wish of the sovereign, George III., that all ranks of the people, from the peer to the lowest of the populace, might have an opportunity of witnessing the re- spect paid to the remains of the hero, who all his life had scourged, and in dying had annihilated, the fleets of France and Spain, and who had established the independence of his country by proving her to be invin • cible on the ocean. It was for this reason that the ceremony of his funeral was made to extend over two days, the 8th and 9th of January, 1806. Nelson had fallen on the 21st of October, in the previous year : his body had been brought to Greenwich Hospital, where it had lain in state during the preparations for its interment in St. Paul's Cathedral. At about eight o'clock on the morning of the 8th, the heralds and naval officers, who had shortly before assembled at the Admiralty, arrived at Greenwich Hospital, where they were met by the lord mayor, aldermen, and corporation committee ap- pointed to conduct the aquatic procession. A little after ten o'clock the body of the deceased hero was borne from the saloon and out at the eastern portal, and placed on board the state barge. During its slow and solemn transit to the water's edge, the mournful music of the " Dead March " in " Saul," the booming of minute guns at regular intervals, and the tolling of bells, announced that the funeral pageant had commenced. It was noon ere the whole procession, arranged in order, sailed slowly from Greenwich. The third barge, covered with black velvet, bore the body of the hero, under a large sheet and a pall of velvet ornamented with six escutcheons — the heraldic king of arms standing at the head, and bearing a viscount's coronet upon a black velvet cushion. The union flag waved at the prow. On board the fourth barge, Peter Parker, as chief f IO FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. mourner, was surrounded by admirals whose names stood highest in the service, and heroes who had fought in the same cause for which Nelson died. On the deck, holding the banner of emblems in his hand, stood Capt. Hardy of the Victory, who had kissed poor Nelson as he lay writhing in die death struggle, and had received his last commands. The fifth barge was that of his majesty, George III., and this was followed by twelve others bearing the com- missioners of the Admiralty, the lord mayor and corporation, and the members of the several civic companies, each in their own vessels. The barges were all covered with black cloth. The funeral barge which car- ried the body was rowed by seamen belong- ing to Nelson's own crew, and the others by men selected from the Greenwich pen- sioners. The flags of each were hoisted half-mast high, and minute guns were fired as they tracked their sluggish way. The barges were flanked with twenty-six row- boats belonging to the river fencibles and the harbour marines. The procession arrived at Whitehall-stairs in two lines, through which the barge bear- ing the body of Nelson advanced. The trumpets blew a wailing dirge, and the gun- boats answered with booming peals as the disembarkation went on, and the procession moved onwards towards the Admiralty, where the body lay in state, the Rev. Mr. Scott, Nelson's chaplain, sitting up with it all night. On the morning of Thursday the 9th, while it wanted yet an hour of daylight, the half-stifled roll of muffled drums was heard in every district of the city, calling the different volunteer corps to arms. The procession, headed by the Duke of York, and bands of seamen and marines from the Victory, slowly made its way from the Admiralty to St. Paul's Cathedral. Just as the body was being lowered to its last resting-place, the twelve seamen from the Victory, who bore the corpse of the gallant commander, were also about to lower his Mag into the tomb, but suddenly with one accord they rent it in pieces, in order that each might preserve a fragment as long S3 he lived. The trophies of the deceased, with the standards and banners, having been deposited on a table near the grave, the procession, arranged by the officers of arms, slowly departed from the cathedral in the same order in which they had en- tered in the morning. Thus terminated the funeral obsequies of the greatest naval commander the world ever saw. A short time ago a statue of Lord Nelson, executed by Lord Clarence Paget, K.C.B., was set up in a prominent position on the beautiful shores of the Menai Straits. Be- sides the artistic merits of the work, which are considerable, and which reflect the highest credit on the amateur sculptor, this statue is remarkable for its size, and still more for the materials in which it is exe- cuted, a species of concrete formed from limestone and Portland cement. This material is as durable as, and infinitely cheaper than, stone, and by adopting it our public places might be decorated with copies of works of ancient art, with statues, vases, etc., at a very moderate cost. Moreover, while the work was in pro- gress, an officer who was making a survey of the Menai Straits for the Admiralty, suggested that by removing the intended site of the statue only a few feet, it would form a good leading landmark for mariners. Lord Clarence gladly complied with the suggestion, and, to quote a passage from his inaugural address, " the immortal hero serves, as he did in life, to point out to the thousands of sailors who pass through the Straits the unerring path of duty, from which it is dangerous to diverge." The height of the statue, including its plinth, is 19 feet, the pedestal is 9 feet, and the basement 13 feet, the total height of the structure being 41 feet from the summit of the rock. Internally the statue is supported by an iron core passing through the body and limbs, great strength being required on account of the exposed position and the violent winds which blow through the Straits. MY ESCAPE FROM THE DAC01TS. \ r MY ESCAPE JTROJVl THE DACOIT£, o in confusion, now carrying hirty years ago, in 1845, things were not so settled in the Deccan as they are now. There was no idea of insurrection on a large scale, but we were going through one of those out- breaks of Dacoits which have several times proved so troublesome. Bands of marauders kept the country pouring down on a village, off three or four of the Bom- bay money-lenders, who were then, as now, the curse of the country ; sometimes mak- ing an onslaught upon a body of traders, and occasionally venturing to attack small detachments of troops or isolated parties of police. They were not very formidable, but they were very troublesome, and most difficult to catch, for the peasantry regarded them as patriots, and aided and shielded them in every way. The head quarters of these gangs of Dacoits were the Ghauts. In the thick bush and deep valleys and gorges here they could always take refuge, while sometimes the more daring chiefs converted these detached peaks and masses of rock, numbers of which you can see as you come up the Ghaut by railway, into almost im- pregnable fortresses. Many of these masses of rock rise as sheer up from the hillside as walls of masonry, and look at a short dis- tance like ruined castles. Some are ab- solutely inaccessible ; others can only be scaled by experienced climbers ; and al- though possible for the natives with their bare feet, were impracticable to European troops. Many of these rock-fortresses were at various times the head-quarters of famous Dacoit leaders, and unless the summits happened to be commanded from some higher ground within gunshot range, they were all but impregnable except by starva- tion. When driven to bay these fellows would fight well. Well, about the time I joined, the Da- coits were unusually troublesome; the police had a hard time of it, and almost lived in the saddle, and the cavalry were constantly called up to help them, while detachments of infantry from the station were under canvas at several places along the top of the Ghauts to cut the bands off from their strongholds, and to aid, if necessary, in turning them out of their rock-fortresses. The natives in the valleys at the foot of the Ghauts, who have always been a semi-inde- pendent race, ready to rob whenever they saw a chance, were great friends with the Dacoits, and supplied them with provisions whenever the hunt on the Deccan was too hot for them to make raids in that direction. This is a long introduction, you will sup. and with does not seem to have much to do bears ; but it is really necessary, as you will see. I had joined about six months when three companies of the regi- ment were ordered to relieve a wing of the 15 th, who had been under canvas at a village some four miles to the north of the point where the line crosses the top of the Ghauts. There were three white officers, and little enough to do, except when a party was sent off to assist the police. We had one or two brushes with the Dacoits. but I was not out on either occasion. However, there was plenty of shooting and a good many pigs about, so we had very good fun. Of course, as a raw hand, I was very hot for it, and as the others had both passed the enthusiastic term, except for pig- sticking and big game, I could always get away. I was supposed not to go far from camp, because, in the first place, I might be wanted ; and, in the second, because of the Dacoits ; and Norworthy, who was in command, used to impress upon me that I ought not to go beyond the sound of a bugle. Of course we both knew that if I intended to get any sport I must go further afoot than this .; but I merely used to say, (13 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS, 'All right, I will keep an ear to the camp/ and he on his part never considered it necessary to ask where the game which appeared on the table came from. But in point of fact I never went very far, and my servant always had instructions which way to send for me if I was wanted, while as to the Dacoits I did not believe in their having the impudence to come in broad daylight within a mile or two of our camp. I did not often go down the face of the Ghauts. The shooting was good, and there was plenty of bears in those days, but it needed a long day for such an expedition, and in view of the Dacoits who might be scattered about, was not a sort of thing to be undertaken except with a strong party. Norworrhy had not given any precise orders about it, but T must admit that he said one day : — ' Of course you won't be fool enough to think of going down the Ghauts, Hastings ? ' But I did not look at that as equivalent to a direct order, whatever I should do now. However, I never meant to go down, though I used to stand on the edge and look longingly down into the bush and fancy I saw bears moving about in scores. But I don't think that I should have gone into their country if they had not come into mine. One day the fellow who always carried my spare gun or flask, and who was a sort of shekarry in a small way, told me that he had heard that a farmer whose house stood near the edge of the Ghauts, some two miles away, had been seriously annoyed by his fruit and corn being stolen by bears. ' I'll go and have a look at the place to- morrow,' I said, \ there is no parade, and I can start early ; you may as well tell the mess cook to put you up a basket with some tiffin and a bottle of claret, and get a boy to carry it over.' ' The bears not come in day,' Rahman said. 1 Of course not,' I replied, ' still I may like to find out which way they come. Just do as you are told.' The next morning, at seven o'clock, I was at the farmer's spoken of, and there was no mistake as to the bears. A patch of Indian corn had been ruined by them and two dogs had been killed. The native was in a terrible state of rage and alarm ; he said that on moonlight nights he had seen eight of them, and they came and sniffed around the door of the cottage. ' Why don't you fire through the window at them ? ' I said scornfully, for I had seen a score of tame bears in captivity, and like you, Mary, was inclined to despise them, though there was far less excuse for me, for I had heard stories which should have con- vinced me that, small as he is, the Indian bear is not a beast to be attacked with im- punity. Upon walking to the edge of the Ghauts there was no difficulty in discovering the route by which the bears came up to the farm. For a mile to the right and left the ground fell away as if cut with a knife, leaving a precipice of over a hundred feet sheer down ; but close by where I was standing was the head of a water-course, which in time had gradually worn a sort of cleft in the wall up or down which it was not difficult to make one's way. Further down this little gorge widened out and be- came a deep ravine, and further still a wide valley where it opened upon the flats far below us. About half a mile down where the ravine was deepest and darkest was a thick clump of trees and jungle. ' That's where the bears are ? ' I asked Rahman. He nodded. It seemed no distance. I could get down and back in time for tiffin, and perhaps bag a couple of bears. For a young sportsman the tempta- tion was great. ' How long would it take us to go down and have a shot or two a f them ? ' ' No good go down. Master come here at night, shoot bears when they come up.' I had thought of that ; but, in the first place, it did not seem much of sport to shoot the beasts from cover when they were quietly eating, and, in the next place, I knew that Norworthy could not, even if he were willing, give me leave to go out of camp at night. I waited hesitating for a few minutes, and then I said to myself, it is MY ESCAPE FROM THE DACOITS. of no use waiting, I could go down and get a bear and be back again while I am think- ing of it ; then to Rahman, 1 No, come along, we will have a look through that wood anyhow.' Rahman evidently did not like it. 1 Not easy find bear, Sahib. He very cunning.' * Well, very likely we shan't find them,' I said, *' but we can try anyhow. Bring that bottle with you, the tiffin basket can wait here till we come back.' In another five minutes I had began to climb down the water-course — the shekarry following me. I took the double-barrelled rifle and handed him the shot gun, having just dropped a bullet down each barrel over the charge. The ravine was steep, but there were bushes to hold on by, and, although it was hot work and took a good deal longer than I expected, we at last got down to the place which I had fixed upon as likely to be the bears' home. ' Sahib, climb up top,' Rah- man said, ' come down through wood ; no good fire at bear when he above.' I had heard that before ; but I was hot, the sun was pouring down, there was not a breath of wind, and it looked a long way up to the top of the wood. ' Give me the claret. It would take too long to search the wood regularly ; we will sit down here for a bit, and if we can see anything moving up in the wood, well and good ; if not, we will come back again another day with some beaters and dogs.' So saying, I sat down with my back against a rock, at a spot where I could look up among the trees for a long way through a natural vista. I had a drink of claret, and then I sat and watched till gradually I dropped off to sleep. I don't know how long I slept, but it was some time, and I woke up with a sudden start. Rahman, who had, I fancy, been asleep too, also started up. The noise which had aroused us was made by a rolling stone striking a rock behind ; and, looking up, I saw some fifty yards up, not in the wood, but on the rocky hillside, on our side of the ravine, a bear standing, as though unconscious of our presence, snuffing the air. As was natural, I seized my rifle, cocked it, and took aim, heeding not a cry of 'No, no, Sahib,' from Rahman. However, I was not going to miss such a chance as this, and I let fly. The beast had been standing sideways to me, and as I saw him falling I felt sure that I had hit him in the heart. I gave a shout of triumph, and was about to climb up, when, from behind the rock on which the bear had stood, appeared another growling fiercely, who, on seeing me, at once prepared to come down. Stupidly, being taken by surprise, and being new at it, I fired at once at its head. The bear gave a spring, and then — it seemed instan- taneous — down it came at me. Whether it rolled down, or slipped down, or ran down, I don't know, but it came almost as if it had jumped straight down. ' My gun, Rahman,' I shouted, holding | out my hand. There was no answer. I i glanced round and found that the scoundrel had bolted. I had time, and only just time, to take a step backwards, and to club my rifle, when the brute was upon me. I got one fair blow at the side of its head, a blow that would have smashed the skull of any civilized beast into pieces, and which did fortunately break the brute's jaw ; then in an instant he was upon me, and I was fighting for life. My hunting-knife was out, and with my left hand I had the beast by the throat, while with my right I tried to drive my knife into his ribs. My bullet had gone through his chest. The impetus of his charge had knocked me over, and we rolled on the ground, he tearing with his claws at my shoulder and arm, I stabbing and struggling, my great effort being to keep my legs up so as to protect my body with them from his hind claws. After the first blow with his paw, which laid my shoulder open, I do not think I felt any special pain whatever. There was a strange faint sensation, and my whole energy seemed centred in the two ideas — to strike and to keep my knees up. I knew that I was getting faint, but I was dimly conscious that his efforts, too, were relaxing. His i it4 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. weight on me seemed to increase enor- mously, and the last idea that flashed across me was that it was a drawn fight. The next idea of which I was conscious was that I was being carried. I seemed to be swinging about, and I thought I was at sea. Then there was a little jolt and a sense of pain. 'A collision,' I muttered, and opened my eyes. Beyond the fact that I seemed in a yellow world — a bright orange yellow — my eyes did not help me, and I lay vaguely wondering about it all, till the rocking ceased ; there was another bump, and then the yellow world seemed to come to an end, and as the day seemed again to stream in upon me I fainted again. This time when I awoke to consciousness things were clearer. I was stretched by a little stream. A native woman was sprink- ling my face and washing the blood from my wounds ; while another, who had with my own knife cut off my coat and shirt, was tearing the latter into strips to bandage my wounds. The yellow world was explained. I was lying on the yellow robe of one of the women. They hai tied the ends to- gether, placed a long stick through them, and carried me as in a bag-like hammock. They nodded to me when they saw I was conscious, and brought water in a large leaf and poured it into my mouth. Then one went away for some time, and came back with some leaves and bark. These they chewed, put on my wounds, bound them up with strips of my shirt, and then again knotted the ends of the cloth, and lifting me up, went on as before. I was sure that we were much lower down the Ghaut than we had been when I was watching for the bears, and we were now going still down. However, I knew very little Hindustani, nothing of the lan- guage the women spoke. I was too weak to stand, too weak even to think much ; and I dozed and woke, and dozed again, until, after it seemed to me many hours of travel, we stopped again, this time before a tent. Two or three old women and four or five men' came out, and there was great talking between them and the young women — for they were young — who had cairied me down. Some of the party appeared angry ; but at last things quieted down, and I was carried into the tent. I had fever, and was, I suppose, delirious for days. I afterwards found that for fully a fortnight I had lost all consciousness ; but a good constitution and the nursing of the women pulled me round. When once the fever had gone, I began to mend rapidly. I tried to explain to the women that if they would go up to the camp and tell them where I was they would be well rewarded ; but although I was sure they understood, they shook their heads, and by the fact that as I became stronger two or three armed men always hung about the tent, I came to the conclusion that I was a sort of prisoner. This was annoying, but did not seem se- rious. If these people were Dacoits, or, as was more likely, allies of the Dacoits, 1 could be kept only for ransom or exchange. Moreover, I felt sure of my ability to escape when I got strong, especially as I believed that in the young women who had saved my life, both in bringing me down and by their careful nursing, I should find friends. Except for the soft, dark eyes common to the race, and the good temper and light- heartedness also so general among Hindoo girls ; and the tenderness which women feel towards a creature whose life they have saved, whether it is a wounded bird or a drowning puppy, they were nothing re- markable in the way of beauty, but at the time I know that I thought them charming. Just as I was getting strong enough to walk, and was beginning to think of getting away, a band of five or six fellows, armed to the teeth, came in and made signs that I was to go with them. It was evidently an arranged thing; the girls only were surprised, but they were at once turned out, and as we started I could see two crouching figures in the shade with their clothes over their heads. I had a native garment thrown over my shoulders, and in five minutes after the arrival of the fellows found myself on my way. It took us some six hours before we MY ESCAPE FRO. W THE DA CO ITS. reached our destination, which was one of those natural rock-citadels. Had I been in my usual health, I could have done the distance in an hour and a half, but I had to rest constantly, and was finally carried rather than helped up. I had gone not unwillingly, for the men were clearly, by their dress, Dacoits of the Deccan, and I had no doubt that it was intended either to ransom or exchange me. At the foot of this natural castle were some twenty or thirty more robbers, and I was led to a rough sort of arbour in which was lying, on a pile of maize straw, a man who was evidently their chief. He rose, and we exchanged salaams. ' What is your name, Sahib ? ' he asked in Mahratta. ' Hastings — Lieutenant Hastings,' I said. ' And yours ? ' ' Sivajee Punt ! ' he said. This was bad. I had fallen into the hands of the most troublesome, most ruth- less, and most famous of the Dacoit leaders. Over and over again he had been hotly chased, but had always managed to get away ; and when I last heard of anything, four or five troops of native police were scouring the country after him. He gave an order which I did not understand, and a wretched Bombay writer, I suppose a clerk of some money lender, was dragged forward. Sivajee Punt spoke to him for some time, and the fellow then told me in English that I was to write at once to the officer commanding the troops, that I was in his hands, and that I should be put to death directly he was attacked. 1 Ask him if he will take any sum of money to let me go ? ' Sivajee shook his head very decidedly. A piece of paper was put before me, and a pen and ink, and I wrote as I had been ordered, adding, however, in French, that I had brought myself into my present posi- tion by my own folly, and that I would take my chance, for I well knew the importance which Government attached to Sivajee's capture. I read out loud all that I had written in English, and the interpreter trans- lated it. Then the paper was folded up and I addressed it, 'The Officer Com- manding,' and I was given some chupattis and a drink of water, and allowed to sleep. The Dacoits had apparently no fear of any immediate attack. It was still dark, although morning was just breaking, when I was awakened, and was got up to the citadel. I was hoisted rather than climbed, two men standing above with a rope tied round my body, so that I was half hauled, half pushed up the difficult places, which would have taxed all my climbing powers had I been in health. The height of this mass of rock was about 100 feet ; the top was fairly flat, with some depressions and risings, and about eighty feet long by fifty wide. It had evidently been used as a fortress in ages past. Along the side facing the hill were the remains of a rough wall. In the centre of a depression was a cistern, some four feet square, lined with stone work, and in the side of another depression a gallery had been cut, leading to a subterranean store room or chamber. This natural fortress rose from the face of the hill, at a distance of a thousand yards or so from the edge of the plateau, which was fully two hundred feet higher than the top of the rock. In the old days it would be impregnable, and even at that time it was an awkward place to take, for the troops were armed only with Brown Bess, and rifled cannon were not thought of. Looking round, I could see that I was some four miles from the point where I had descended. The camp was gone, but running my eye along the edge of the plateau, I could see the tops of tents a mile to my right, and again, two miles to the left ; turning round, and looking down into the wide valley, I saw a regimental camp. It was evident that a vigorous effort was being made to sur- round and capture the Dacoits, since troops had been brought up from Bombay. In addition to the troops above and below, there would probably be a strong police force acting on the flanks of the hill. I did not see all these at the time, for I was, as soon as I got to the top, ordered to sit FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. clown behind the rock-parapet, a fellow armed to the teeth squatting down by me, a.nd signifying that if I showed my head above the stones he would cut my throat without hesitation. There were, however, sufficient gaps between the stones to allow me to have a view of the upper line, while below my view extended down to the hills behind Bombay. It was evident to me now why the Dacoits did not climb up into the fortress. There were dozens of similar crags on the face of the Ghauts, and the troops did not as yet know their whereabouts. It was a sort of blockade of the whole face of the hills which was being kept up, and there were, probably enough, several other bands of Dacoits lurking in the jungle. There were only two guards and myself on the rock-plateau. I discussed with myself the chances of my overpowering them, and holding the top of the rock till help came, but I was greatly weakened, and was not a match for a boy, much less for the two stalwart Mahrattas, besides, I was by no means sure that the way I had been brought up was the only Dossible path to the top. The day passed off quietly. The heat on the bare rock was frightful, but one of the men, seeing how weak and ill I really was, fetched a thick rug from the storehouse, and with the aid of a stick made a sort of lean-to against the wall, in which I lay sheltered from the sun. Once or twice during the day I heard a few distant musket shots, and once a sharp heavy outburst of firing. It must have been three or four miles away, but it was on the side of the Ghauts, and showed that the troops or police were at work. My guards looked anxiously in that direction, and uttered sundry curses. When it was dusk, Sivajee and eight of the Dacoits came up. From what they said, I gathered that the rest of the band had dispersed, trusting either to get through the line of their pursuers, or, if caught, to escape with slight punishment, the men who remained being too deeply concerned in murderous outrages to hope tor mercy. Sivajee himself handed me a letter, which the man who had taken my note had brought back in reply. Major Knapp, the writer, who was the second in command, said that he could not engage the Government, but that if Lieut. Hastings was given up, the act would certainly dis- pose the Government to take the most merciful view possible, but that if, on the contrary, any harm was suffered by Lieut. Hastings, every man taken would be at once hung. Sivajee did not appear put out about it. I do not think that he expected any other answer, and that his real object in writing was simply to let them know that I was a prisoner, and so enable him the better to paralyse the attack upon a position which he no doubt considered all but impreg- nable. I was given food, and was then allowed to walk as I chose upon the little plateau, two of the Dacoits taking post as sentries at the steepest part of the path, and the rest gathered chatting and smoking in the depression in front of the stone house. It was still light enough for me to see for some distance down the face of the rock, and I strained my eyes to see if I could discern any other spot at which an ascent or descent was possible. The prospect was not encouraging. At some places the face fell sheer away from the edge, and so evi- dent was the impracticability of escape that the only place which I glanced twice at was the western side, that is the one away from the hill. Here it sloped gradually for a few feet. I took off my shoes and went down to the edge. Below, some ten feet, was a ledge, to which with care I could gel down, but below that a sheer fall of some fifty feet. As a means of escape it was hopeless, but it struck me that if an attack was made I might slip away and get on to the ledge. Then I could not be seen ex- cept by any one standing as I was on the edge of the slope, to which it was very unlikely that any one would come. The thought gave me a shadow of hope, and, returning to the upper end of the platform, I lay down, and in spite of the hardness of the rock, was soon asleep. The pain of my MY ESCAPE FROM THE DACOITS. 117 aching bones woke me up several times, and once, just as the first tinge of dawn was coming, I thought I could hear movements in the jungle. I raised myself somewhat, and I saw that the sounds had been heard by the Dacoits, for they were standing listen- ing, and some of them were bringing spare firearms from the storehouse, in evident preparation for attack. As I afterwards learned, the police had caught one of the Dacoits trying to effect his escape, and by means of a little of the ingenious tortures which the Indian police then frequently, now sometimes, resort to when their white officers are absent, they obtained from him the exact position of Sivajee's band, and the side from which the ascent must be made. That the Dacoit and his band were still upon the slopes of the Ghauts they knew, and were gradually narrowing their circle, but there were so many rocks and hiding-places that the pro- cess of search was a slow one, and the intel- ligence was so important that the news was off at once to the colonel, who gave orders for the police to surround the rock at day- light and to storm it if possible. The garrison was so small that the police were alone ample for the work, supposing that the natural difficulties were not altogether insuperable. Just at daybreak there was a distant noise of men moving in the jungle, and the Dacoit halfway down the path fired his gun. He was answered by a shout and a volley. The Dacoits on guard appeared on the plateau, and they all lay down on the edge where, sheltered by a parapet, they commanded the path. They paid no attention to me, and I kept as far ^way as possible. The fire began — a quiet, steady fire, a shot at a time, and in strong contrast to the rattle kept up in the direc- tion of the surrounding jungle; but every shot must have told, as man after man strove to climb that steep path. It lasted only ten minutes, and then all was quiet again. The attack had failed, as I knew that it must do, for two men could have held the place against an army ; a quarter of an hour later a gun from the crest above spoke out, and a round shot whistled above our heads. Beyond annoyance, an artillery fire could do no harm, for the party could be absolutely safe in the stone caves. The instant the shot flew overhead, however, Sivajee Punt beckoned to me, and motioned me to take my seat on the wall facing the guns. Hesitation was useless, and I took my seat with my back to the Dacoits, and my face to the guns. One of the Dacoits, as I did so, pulled off the native cloth which covered my shoulders, in order clearly that I might be seen. Just as I took my place another round shot hummed by, but then there was a long interval of silence. With a field-glass every feature must have been distinguishable to the gunners, and they were waiting for orders. I glanced round and saw that with the exception of one fellow squatted behind the parapet some half-dozen yards away, clearly as a sentry to keep me in place, ail the others had disappeared. Some, no doubt, were on sentry down the path, the others were in the store beneath me. After half an hour's silence the guns spoke out again. Evidently the gunners were told to be as careful as they could, for some of the shots went wide on the left, others on the right. A few struck the rock below me. The situation was not pleasant, but I thought that at a thousand yards they ought not to hit me, and I tried to distract my attention by thinking out what I should do under every possible contingency. Pre- sently I felt a crash and a shock, and fell backwards to the ground. I was not hurt, and in picking myself up saw that the ball had struck the parapet to the left, just where my guard was sitting, and he lay covered with fragments. His turban lay some yards behind him. Whether he was dead or not I neither knew nor cared. I pushed down some of the parapet where 1 had been sitting, dropped my cap on the edge outside, so as to make it appear tha I had fallen over, and then, picking up the turban, ran to the other end of the platform and scrambled down to the ledge. Then I began to wave my arms about — I had FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. nothing on above the waist — and in a moment I saw a face with a uniform cap peer out through the jungle, and a hand was waved. I made signs to him to make his way to the foot of the perpendicular wall of rock beneath me. I then unwound the turban, whose length was, I knew, amply sufficient to reach to the bottom, and then looked round for something to write on. I had my pencil still in my trousers' pocket, but not a scrap of paper. I picked up a flattish piece of rock and wrote on it, ' Get a rope-ladder quickly, I can haul it up. Ten men in garrison. They are all under cover. Keep up firing to distract attention.' I tied the stone to the end of the turban and looked over. A non-commissioned officer of the police was already standing below. I lowered the stone ; he took it, waved his hand to me, and was gone. An hour passed ; it seemed an age. The round shots still rang overhead, and the fire was now much more heavy and sustained than before. Presently I again saw a movement in the jungle, and Norworthy's face ap- peared, and he waved his arm in greeting. Five minutes more and a party were gathered at the foot of the rock, and a strong rope was tied to the cloth. I pulled it up, and then waited. A rope-ladder now followed, and the top rung was in a minute or two in my hands. To it was tied a piece of paper, with the words, ' Can you fasten the ladder ? ' I wrote on the paper, ' No ; but I can hold it for a light weight.' I put the paper with a stone in the end of the sash, and lowered it again. Then I sat down, tied the rope round my waist, got my feet against two projections, and waited. There was a jerk, and then I felt some one was coming up the rope-ladder. The strain was far less than I expected, but the native policeman who came up first did not weigh half so much as an average Englishman. There were now two of us to hold. The officer in command of the police came up next, then Norworthy, then a dozen more police. I explained the situation, and we mounted to the upper level. Not a soul was to be seen. Quickly we advanced and took up a position to command the door of the cave ; while one of tne police waved a white cloth from his bayonet as a signal to the gunners to cease firing. Then the police officer hailed the party within the cave. ' Sivajee Punt ! you may as well come out and give yourself up. We are in possession, and resistance is useless.' A yell of rage and surprise was heard, and the Dacoits, all desperate men, came bounding out, firing as they did so. Half of this number were shot down at once, and the rest, after a short, sharp struggle, were bound hand and foot. That is pretty well all of the story, I think. Sivajee Punt was one of the killed. The prisoners were all either hung or im- prisoned for life. I escaped my blowing- up for having gone down the Ghauts after the bear, because, after all, Sivajee Punt might have defied their force for months had I not done so. It seems that that scoundrel Rahman took back word that I was killed. Norworthy sent down a strong party, who found the two dead bears, and who, having searched everywhere without finding any signs of my body, came to the conclusion that I had been found and carried away, especially as they ascertained that natives used that path. They had offered rewards, but nothing was heard of me till my note saying I was in Sivajee's hands arrived. I never saw the women again. I did, however, after immense trouble succeed in finding out where it was that I had been taken to. I went down once with a couple of other men, but found it deserted- I sent messages to the women to come up to the camp, but they never came ; and I was reduced at last to sending them down two sets of silver bracelets, and necklace, and bangles, which must have rendered them the envy of all the women on the Ghauts. They sent back a message of grateful thanks, and I never heard of them after." CAPTAIN COOK. 119 THE SENTINEL ROCK, DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF CAPTAIN COOIC. CAPTAIN COOK. o name stands higher in the roll of those who have made themselves famous by mari- time discovery than that of Captain James Cook ; and though modern voyagers have enlarged his discoveries, he must always have the credit f the nobility, who were, for the most part, his warm friends. This period of exile lasted for two years. Here he wrote his most famous work, the '* De Ecclesia" (Concerning the Church). He traversed the country preaching to immense gather- ings in the open air. He wrote cheering letters to his congregation of Bethlehem chapel. " Truth," he said, " always conquers, since the more it is obscured the more it shines out, and the more it is beat down the higher it rises." In October, 1414, Huss obeyed the summons of his ecclesiastical superiors to attend the Council of Constance ; a body representing the entire Catholic Church, which assembled to settle the dispute be- tween the rival Popes, and to put down the Wycliffe heresy. The Emperor Sigismund, of Germany, furnished Huss with a safe conduct. This was a document command- ing all the officers of the empire to further and help Huss upon his journey to and from Constance in every possible way, and in its plain meaning pledged the word of honour of an emperor that Huss should come and go in entire safety. But scarcely had Huss arrived and secured lodging in the city, when he was put under arrest, and thrust into a loath- some dungeon, where his health and life were in great peril. Here he remained for more than six months. Without the form of a trial, and without the pretence of a fair 'nearing, charged with errors which he lever held, and accused principally of >pposition to a pope whom the Council tself had deposed, he was allowed the alternative simply of recanting or dying. )n the 6th of July, 141 4 — the day on which he was exactly forty-two years old — he was led forth to receive the sentence from the Council. The spot on which he stood — a large stone slab, in the cathedral church of Constance — is still pointed out. Before the final proceedings, Huss made an appeal to the emperor. " I came freely to this Council," he said, " relying upon the public faith of the emperor, who is here present, assuring me that I should be safe from all violence." As he said these words, Huss turned and looked the emperor full in the face. Sigis- mund quailed before his gaze and blushed deeply in the consciousness of his violated faith, but made no serious attempt to repair his wrong. He urged Huss to recant, but when he refused, he coldly left him in the hands of his cruel persecutors. Huss was led to the stake. Most heroically did he meet his cruel fate. Without a particle of fanaticism, calmly, and even joyfully, he marched to the place of execution. Arriving there, he knelt down, and began reciting the Peni- tential Psalms, and offering up short and fervent supplication. A pyramidal crown of paper, on which were painted frightful figures of demons, was placed in mockery upon his head. As he lifted his head in prayer the crown fell off, when a soldier rushing forward replaced it, saying, that " he must be burnt with the devils he had served." When bound by the neck by a sooty chain, he said, " I willingly wear these chains for Christ's sake, who wore still more grievous ones." As long as the flames permitted his voice could be heard singing, " Jesus, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me." And after all sounds had ceased, his lips could be seen moving until the breath left his body. The effect of the betrayal and martyrdom of their favourite leader upon the Bohe- mians was to arm them, almost as one man, against the authors of his ruin. They utterly refused the decrees of the Council. They spurned the offers of the emperor. They hurled back the crusading armies sent againstthem by the Pope. Like the armies of the Maccabees, though inferior in numbers to the vast hosts of their enemies, their zeal for freedom and for the truth inspired them with such valour that their onset was THE ORIGINATOR OF PENNY POSTAGE. 137 irresistible. Scantily supplied with arms, they devised a new weapon, an iron flail, with which they beat down their enemies like the chaff of the threshing floor. The terror which they inspired was so great, that the armies of the emperor and the Pope sometimes turned, panic-stricken, and fled at the mere rumour of their approach. Finally, after the sixth army of crusaders had been driven out of Bohemia, sixteen years after the martyrdom of Huss, a new Council was convened at Basle and offered them "peace with honour;" and in 1431 a qualified Protestantism was established in Bohemia as a reward of their prowess, nearly one hundred years before the Lu- theran Reformation. In the lapse of time, and especially as a result of the calamitous Thirty Years' War, which broke out in Bohemia, Protestantism was practically extinguished and Jesuitism took its place. Yet the fierce and warlike Hussites have their worthy successors to this day in the peace-loving, Quaker-like " United Brethren," or " Moravians," as they are called. And no denomination of Christians has quite an equal record for the purity, sincerity, and spirituality of their religion ; none has accomplished such feats of devotion or has contributed so large a proportion of its ministry to the work of foreign missions, as these successors of the martyred Huss. If it were only to found so blameless, pure, and devoted an order of Christian brotherhood, the world must acknowledge that the Hussite movement, with all its struggles, sacrifices, and sorrows, was worth what it cost. THE '\)U ORIQINATO owland Hill has well been called " one of the bene- factors of man- kind." The justice of this remark will be evident if we put ourselves back in memory thirty or forty years, and recall what the postage on a letter then cost, and how comparatively infre- quent letters were — a luxury, indeed, in which only the rich, or at least well-to-do, might indulge. Some sort of a postage system appears very early in history. The monarchs of Assyria and Persia had posts to carry their decrees throughout their dominions. Sta- tions were established a day's journey from each other to facilitate the business. The Reman emperors sent couriers on swift horses to carry the imperial edicts. It is R OF PENNY PO^TAQE. said that Charlemagne established stations for couriers through his kingdom, but after his death they were abandoned. Louis XL of France, in 1464, revived the system of mounted posts. Long before this, in the thir- teenth century, posts had been established in England, but exclusively for the transmis- sion of Government despatches. It was in 1516 that the earliest post for general accommodation was established in Europe; this was between Brussels and Vienna by Franz von Thurn and Taxis. His suc^ cessors, the Counts of Thurn and Taxis, received repeated concessions from the Emperors of Germany of the right to carry the imperial posts, and extended it over the greater part of Germany and Italy, holding a postal monopoly until the dissolution of the German Empire in 1806. In 1524 the French posts carried letters for the public. A regular system of posts was found in Peru in 1527 by the Spanish invaders. Sir Rowland jiiLL. 138 THE ORIGINATOR 01* PhNNY POSTAGE. i39 A system of postal communication in England was not fully organized till after the accession of James I. In 1644 Ed- mund Prideaux was appointed Postmaster- General, as we now would style the office. He established a weekly conveyance of letters into all parts of the kingdom. The postal charges, however, amounted to an almost prohibitory tariff, and yet they were not materially changed for nearly two hun- dred years. These charges on a single letter ranged from twopence for seven miles or under, to fourteen-pence for more than three hundred miles. The postage system of the British colo- nies in America was organized in 17 10. After the adoption of the Constitution of the United States, Congress organized the Post Office Department, but the high rates of postage caused much dissatisfaction, and for years letters were carried by express between the principal cities at much less than the Post Office rates. In 1845 the rates were fixed at five cents for each letter of a half-ounce weight for all distances within three hundred miles, ten cents for greater distances, and an additional rate for each half-ounce or fraction thereof. It was not until 1853 that the present system of three cents per half ounce for all distances came into operation. This was more than a half-score of years after the cheap and .simple system introduced by Rowland Hill was adopted in England. Rowland Hill, the third son of Mr. Thomas Wright Hill, was born in Kidder- minster, December 3, 1795. When Row- land was about seven years old his father moved to Birmingham, where he established a school. In this school the lad received his education, and of it he became a teacher at the age of twelve years. Inheriting quick intelligence and originality of mind from his father, Rowland, in connection with his brothers, devised a unique scheme of government for the school, which attracted much attention at the time. The family was a united and happy one, each member devoting himself to the good of all. The mother's practical common-sense and firm- ness of purpose afforded a good counter- part to the father's somewhat visionary and rash habits. The school, as conducted by the brothers, however complex and un- wieldy their system seemed to them in after-years, turned the minds of many thinking men to the subject, and not a little of the improvement in education in Eng- land in the last fifty years may be traced to their bold experiment. Remaining at Birmingham till he was past thirty, he then, with the aid of one of his brothers, established a school in the neighbourhood of London. But his strength had been impaired by the assiduity of his labours — he had worked for weeks at a time from fifteen to seventeen hours a day — and the work of the schoolmaster had become distasteful to him. He therefore gave up his school into the hands of his younger brother. A long period of rest re-established his health, and he became secretary of an as- sociation for the colonization of South Australia. In this office he continued four years, discharging its duties with conspicuous success. During his leisure time he was working at two inventions. One of these was a printing-machine. The machine never came into general use, though it is claimed that some of the most ingenious of its contrivances have been commonly adopted. Even in his childhood's days he had learned, as he himself has expressed it, the great inconvenience of being poor. So straitened were the circumstances of the family that he had seen his mother dread the visit of the postman through want of money to pay postage. It is not needful to dwell at any length on the state of the Post Office before Rowland Hill reformed it. Its charges were high and arbitrary, and its services were limited and irregular. There were districts larger than the county of Middle- sex in which the postman never set foot. For the 11,000 parishes of England and Wales there were only 3,000 post offices. A single letter from London to Edinburgh i was charged r.r, \\d. If it contained the 140 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. smallest enclosure — a receipt, for instance ■ — it was charged the double, 2^. 3d. Weight was not taken into account. Two separate pieces of tissue paper sent in one enclosure would have been charged twice as much as the heaviest letter that was written on a single sheet. The upper classes, through the right of franking which was enjoyed by every member of Parliament, had to a great extent their letters carried free of charge. The traders, by the help of illicit means of conveyance, were often able to evade the heavy tax. The poor man alone was help- less. He could not afford to use the Post Office. He had no other means of sending a letter. So when his son or daughter went forth into the wide world to seek work, the father received no tidings of the child, the child none of the father. Under such a sys- tem as this the postal revenue had remained absolutely stationary for twenty years. While still labouring to improve his press, Rowland Hill began to interest himself in postal matters. He hesitated for awhile between the two, but the postal reform won. After carefully studying the matter, he issued his now famous pamphlet, " Post Office Reform : its Importance and Practicability." Its suggestions were simple and effective. People wondered why nobody had ever thought of them before. The Government authorities ridiculed and obstinately op- posed his ideas. But Mr. Hill had caught the ear of the people, and once awakened to the subject they would not be denied. In May, 1838, a deputation, in which were to be seen 150 members of Parlia- ment, all supporters of Government, waited upon the Premier, Lord Melbourne. Daniel O'Connell said : ''Consider, my lord, that a letter to Ireland and the answer back would cost thousands upon thousands of my poor and affectionate countrymen considerably more than a fifth of their week's wages. They are too poor to find out secondary con- veyances, and if you shut the Post Office to them, -which you do now, you shut out warm hearts and generous affections from home, kindred, and friends." The Government yielded, and penny postage was carried. It came into effect on January 10, 1840 — a day on which, so long as his health lasted, the great postal reformer loved to gather his friends around him. The essential improvements introduced by Rowland Hill were, weight as a basis of charge, instead of a charge for each separate sheet ; uniform charge for all distances ; and the affixed stamp as a means of enforcing prepayment. For two years Mr. Hill worked with indomitable resolution and marked administrative power. Then, through the influence of official obstruc- tives, he was removed from his post, on the poor pretext that his special mission was accomplished. It is to the credit of the British public that they were heartily ashamed of this action of the Government, and promptly raised a testimonial for him amounting to upwards of ^£13,000. In 1846, after a few years' service in the management of the Brighton Railway Com- pany, he was appointed Secretary to the Postmaster-General. In 1854 he became Chief Secretary and practical Director of the Post Office. In 1864 he retired on a pension of his full salary and with a Par- liamentary grant of ^20,000. He received the honour of K.C.B., and the University of Oxford conferred upon him the degree of D.C.L. He died August 27, 1879, an d on September 4 his remains were interred in Westminster Abbey. It is not easy to give any clear notion of the results of his great scheme. We can state that about 106 millions of chargeable letters and newspapers were sent through the Post Office in 1839, and that 1,478 millions were sent in 1878. But the mind cannot grasp such numbers as these. Some- thing more is understood when we are told that in 1839 the average number of letters per head was three and that in 1878 it was thirty-two. When we consider how much of social convenience, facility in business, and domestic intercourse and happiness is bound up in cheap and efficient postal service, we shall be quick to hail its originator ss one of the benefactors of mankind. REAR-ADMIRAL SHERARD OSBORN. F(EAR-ADMIF(AL £HER,ARD OSBORN ifted with the highest professional abilities, pre- eminent for cool self- possession and ready resource in action, daring to the utmost stretch of naval audacity, but as prudent as he was daring, a strict disciplinarian, yet one of the most popular of captains, a very successful administrator, — Rear-Admi- ral Sherard Osborn had lived long enough to do the State distinguished service, and seemed to be a man to whom in an emergency we should turn for aid of even greater value in the days to come. He was made of too stern materials to be a universal favourite. His opinions were too uncompromising, and his will too de- termined to be fully appreciated in a time of peace ; but during an active and varied career he had won the respect of his pro- fession, and few men had warmer or more devoted friends among those — and they were many — who knew him well, whether civilians, brother officers, or shipmates in the humbler walks of life. Admiral Osborn entered the navy as first-class volunteer in September, 1837; commanded a gunboat against pirates at the capture of Quedah in 1838 ; served in the East Indies and China in 1843, m Her Majesty's ships Hyacinth, Volage, and Columbine; entered the Excellent in 1843, and passed out in 1844 with a first-class certificate as gunnery officer ; was recom- mended as gunnery mate to Admiral Sir George Seymour, and appointed to the Collingitwod, Captain Henry Eden, then fitting for the flag in the Pacific; became gunnery lieutenant for two years in the same ship; was appointed in the autumn of 1848 to command the Dtuarf, and sent to Ireland in consequence of the Irish in- surrection. In the winter of 1849 he was selected as a volunteer for the Arctic Ex- pedition sent in search of Franklin, under Captain H. T. Austin, C.B., and appointed to command the Pioneer. In that expedi- tion, as well as the following one under Captain Sir E. Belcher, he held the command of the Pioneer during a pro- tracted service of three winters and five summers in the Arctic seas, and made several long sledge journeys, the last one exceeding a thousand miles on foot. After a few months' service as com- mander of the Norfolk District Coast- guard, to re-establish his health, which had been shaken by continuous Arctic service, Commander Osborn was ap- pointed to the Vesuvius, in the Black Sea fleet, under Admiral Lyons, K.C.B. He first assisted the late Admiral Boxer in restoring order in Balaklava harbour, and, as a reward for his services there, was sent by Admiral Lyons to succeed Captain Moore as senior officer of the blockading squadron off Kertch and the Straits oi Yenikale. He was present at the capture of Kertch, aud was then sent into the Sea of Azov as second in seniority to Captain Lyons, commanding the gunboat squadron. Commander Osborn succeeded, on the death of that officer, to the command of the squadron, which averaged from four- teen to eighteen gunboats and despatcli vessels. As commander, and subsequently as captain, he co-operated or commanded in the destruction of the Russian squadron at Berdiansk and the military position of Taganrog ; the burning of the Russian transport flotilla; the bombardment of Arabat, and the cutting off the supplies of the Russian armies by the capture of the military store depots at Genichi and Gheisk — services which were acknowledged by the commander-in-chief in a highly flattering memorandum. In the spring of 142 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS, 1856, at the special request of Admiral Sir E. Lyons, Captain Osborn was appointed by the Admiralty to the Medusa gun-vessel, and again sent into the Sea of Azov as senior officer commanding that squadron, and remained there until the signature of the treaty of peace, when he returned to England. For his services during the Russian war, Captain Osborn was honoured with the Companionship of the Bath, and made an officer of the Legion of Honour and of the Order of the Medjidie, besides being personally complimented at Windsor by his Sovereign and the Prince Consort. In the spring of 1857, on the news of a rupture with the Emperor of China, Captain Osborn was appointed to the Furious, and instructed to escort a force of fifteen gun- boats and despatch vessels to China. Captain Osborn's orders from the Ad- miralty gave him large discretionary powers as to the route and arrangements, and many essential preparations had to be made at Devonport under his superin- tendence. Seeing the difficulty other officers had experienced in escorting even two gunboats at a time to China, doubts were entertained of these vessels, some of them of the lightest draught that had ever passed the Cape, effecting the voyage at all during the winter of southern latitudes. At Devonport, Admiral Sir William Parker was so much struck with the arduous nature of the task before Captain Osborn, that in giving him his parting orders he said, " If ever you, sir, deliver all that squadron safe to your admiral in China you deserve to be made a commodore." By going to Brazil, avoiding the Cape, and carrying the squadron on a great circle to the south, the passage was made without one disaster, and within six months all the vessels were safely at anchor in Hongkong harbour. That squadron of gunboats, it is only fair to say, changed the character of the war in China, and brought our negotiations to a successful issue. Captain Osborn next embarked the British am- bassador, and the Furious took a prominent share in every subsequent operation, from the escalade of Canton to the capture of the Taku forts in 1858. The gunboat he embarked in was the first to reach the city of Tien-tsin and the entrance of the Great Canal. The commander-in-chief praised Captain Osborn most highly in his official despatches, but as he was already in possession of every possible honour for past services, no official recognition could then be given him. From China, Captain Osborn carried Lord Elgin to Japan, and on his own responsibility led the escorting squadron beyond the surveyed portion of Yeddo Bay until Her Majesty's ships were anchored in a position within gunshot of the capital. This measure led to a satis- factory treaty between Japan and Great Britain being speedily signed by the emperors, and Lord Elgin then and sub- sequently acknowledged the service ren- dered by Captain Osborn. On the return of the Furious to Shanghai in September, 1858, a question arose in framing the supplementary treaty with China how far it was possible to declare the great river Yang-tze navigable to Europeans. Captain Osborn was applied to by Lord Elgin, and, confident from his experience of the volume of the river at Nankin, that it must be navigable for hundreds of miles beyond, he undertook to test the question, and persuaded Captain Barker (of Her Majesty's ship Retribution), senior officer at Shanghai, to make the experiment at once. That officer, shattered by a stroke of paralysis, could only accompany the force just above Nankin, the batteries cf which were suc- cessfully engaged and silenced. Thence, up a falling and intricate river, Captain Osborn had, as senior officer, to conduct his ship, accompanied by the Cruiser and two gunboats, to Hankow, 600 miles from the sea ; the Furious having several times to be cleared to her keel to float her off unknown shoals and reefs. This service enabled the ambassador to insist on the river being opened to foreign commerce. No war ship of the size or the draught of the Furious has subsequently been able to REAR-ADMIRAL SHERARD OSBORN. reach Hankow, although at this moment the river is covered with vessels carrying European commerce. Admiral Sir Michael Seymour, on the return of the squadron, issued a general order expressing his satis- faction " at the gallantry, zeal, and perse- verance displayed by the captains, officers, and men comprising the expedition." In the House of Lords, Lord Elgin publicly acknowledged his obligation to Captain Osborn in the most eulogistic terms. In the meantime such had been the arduous nature of the service rendered in ascending the Yang-tze that Captain Os- born had to give up his ship and return home on half-pay to undergo a long series of surgical operations. By the publication of his naval journals and by other literary labours, Captain Osborn was enabled to subsist until well enough again to seek service, when, in the spring of 1861, he had the honour to be appointed to the command of Her Majesty's ship Donegal, 1 01 guns. In her he embarked a portion of the British force sent to co-operate in the allied attack on Mexico. The Emperor of China, in June, 1S62, made an offer to Captain Osborn, through his agent, Mr. Lay, of the absolute com- mand of a large squadron of vessels to be equipped by him in England for the sup- pression of piracy on the coast of China. The command was to have been a very lucrative one. Captain Osborn was formally promised that, in order to guarantee such a force not being used against European powers, or in a way hostile to our naval sense of humanity or justice, he should not be placed under any local authorities, but receive his orders direct from the emperor. With this under- standing, Captain Osborn received especial leave for the purpose from the Admiralty, and officers were lent likewise from Her Majesty's navy on the same understanding. A squadron of six vessels was constructed, equipped, and carried by Captain Osborn to the near neighbourhood of Pekin in 1863 ; but on reporting himself at the capital of China, he found that the em- peror repudiated the promises and engagements of his agent, and wished to place a Chinese mandarin as a superior officer even on board his own ship. This, together with the fact that the representa- tives of the European powers were adverse to the institution of a force on such terms, decided Captain Osborn on withdrawing from a position so likely to prove com- promising to his own honour as well as to the British interests in China. Returning to England, Captain Osborn again placed his services at the disposal of the Admiralty, and was in 1864 ap- pointed to the command of Her Majesty's ship Royal Sovereig7t, a vessel adapted to test the new system of turrets invented by Captain Cowper Coles, R.N. He reported on the perfect success with which twelve- ton guns were for the first time used at sea in Her Majesty's navy, and otherwise showed the excellence of the turret system; but the Royal Sovereign was paid off. Cap- tain Osborn was permitted to remain attached to her until the end of 1864, when, having served sufficient time by the regulations then in force to qualify for his flag, he resigned his command. The short time for which the Royal Sovereign was kept in commission en- tailed heavy pecuniary loss to Captain Osborn, who had fitted her out at a great expense under the impression that he would be considered one of the active fleet for at least three years, and this circum- stance, together with additional losses caused by the bankruptcy of a firm of navy agents, obliged Captain Osborn to turn his attention while on half-pay and awaiting promotion to the admirals' list to some employment as a means of sub- sistence. He first proceeded to Western India and successfully administered as agent between the Great Indian Penin- sular Railway Company and the Govern- ment a network of railways extending throughout the Bombay Presidency. Finding the climate, however, injuring his health, and being desirous of keeping 144 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. himself employed on matters more imme- diately connected with the profession to which he belonged, Captain Osborn re- signed this appointment in 1866, and in 1867 undertook the office of director of the Telegraph Construction and Mainten- ance Company (which had then just successfully laid the Atlantic submarine telegraph cables), for the purpose of giving his professional knowledge to the work of establishing submarine telegraph communi- cation between Great Britain and her Eastern and Australian possessions and colonies. In four years this work was completed by a series of submarine cables from Falmouth, the Mediterranean, and Red Sea to India, the Eastern Archipelago, Hongkong, and Australia ; and Captain Osborn might well feel that, from a public as well as professional point of view, he had in this great work served the com- mercial as well as the military interests of his country. In 1871 Captain Osborn was appointed to the command of Her Majesty's ship Hercules, the finest of our cruising ironclads, and in 1873 he was promoted to the rank of rear-admiral. In the whole of these services, whether as midshipman, lieutenant, commander, captain, or man of business, the name of Sherard Osborn was highly distinguished. In the first Chinese war he was thrice mentioned in the despatches of Commo- dore Sir Thomas Herbert and Admiral Sir William Parker, and was publicly thanked as a midshipman by Commodore R. B. Watson for his services at the cap- ture of Shanghai. In Ireland he earned the warm approval of the local authori- ties, and was repeatedly thanked by his commander-in-chief. In 1849 ms sea_ manship and gallantry were reported to the Admiralty as "beyond all praise in remaining by his vessel, the Dwarf, in a sinking state in tempestuous weather." In the Arctic Seas his energy and joviality, and his readiness to undertake the hardest labour, if' any of his men were distressed in sledging expeditions, won him the de- moted attachment of his crew. In the Crimean war he gained the highest re- nown and the fullest approval of his dis- tinguished admiral, Sir E. Lyons, who not only selected him for presentation to the Queen at Windsor, but strained every nerve, and with success, to secure his re- appointment to the command of the Sea of Azov squadron. To no man more than to Captain Sherard Osborn was the open- ing of our trade with Japan and China due. We believe that his social qualities and knowledge of men assisted Lord Elgin in his difficult negotiations almost as much as the professional nerve and sea- manship which carried the Furious to Yeddo and Hankow. It has been often said that naval officers make the best diplomatists, and probably Sherard Os- born, as admiral on a foreign station, would have been a marked illustration of this rule. Like Lord Dundonald, whom, in many respects, afloat and ashore, he resembled, he carried his fighting tempe- rament into the arena of civil controversy. For ten years he struggled energetically to advance the views of his friend Captain Cowper Coles, and had the satisfaction of eventually witnessing the chief con- structor of the navy, whose great qualities he always fully recognised, pronounce in favour of the turret ship for fighting pur- poses, and the admiral in command of the Channel fleet report that the lamented " Captain could destroy all the broadside I ships of the squadron in detail." His untimely death will cast a gloom over the Arctic expedition, which he did so much to promote. He himself at- tributed to his own Arctic experience and the example of his first Arctic com- mander, Captain Austin, two naval lessons of first-rate importance : first, the practice of commanding men sympathetically, as human beings and not as machines ; and secondly, the habit of prudent daring, which the struggle with an Arctic winter always, he declared, engenders. He often used to say that he could get out of his men the very utmost exertions of which they were capable. WILLIAM CAXTON. 145 WILLIAM CAXT0J1 our hundred and forty years ago, or thereabouts — for exact figures are not attainable — a German, who is now conven- tionally recognised as John Gutenberg, discovered the art of mechanically reproducing on paper, by the use of mov- able types, words and pages that had previously been only engraved on blocks of wood, as books are produced in China at this day. Printing was known to the ancients and was practised by them. Paper was common enough a century or two before. For years man- kind had been blundering on the verge of the great discovery of typography. Cheap books of different kinds were on sale in every country of Europe, before types were thought of. But this man, by his invention of a simple mould for casting characters, provided the world with facilities for its intellectual advancement, useful for all time, and capable of infinite utilisation. We need not recount the incidents of the life of the great proto-printer — his troubles at starting, the injustice his impe- cuniosity brought down upon him, his death embittered by neglect, rendered the more satirical by the fact that he was the wearer of a courtier's dress. His art spread like wildfire all over Europe. No modern in- ventor, even with the facilities of publica- tion which we possess, and which were then wanting, has ever made such initial pro- gress. Steam, railways, gas-lighting, and now the electric light, have passed through a long childhood ; printing attained its majority in a day. From France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and even Russia, it spread with a velocity reminding one of the trans- mission of news in Macaulay's Ode on the •Armada. It took, however, nearly thirty years to come to England. Printing was invented about 1440; it was introduced here not before 1476 or 1477. I Q x 45° tne whole Bible in the Vulgate Latin was printed ; a copy of it (worth about ^4,000) may be seen in the British Museum. Yet for so many years did our land, destined to occupy so pre-eminent a place in the intellectual traffic of the world, remain without the " art preservative of arts." The man who brought us this gift was not a professional printer, not a craftsman. William Caxton — for that is our benefac- tor's name— never, in fact, became a good printer ; early English books are not to be compared for elegance and taste to the contemporary productions of Continental countries. But he enjoyed the grand posi- tion of being our first printer, and brought over with him to our shores a blessing only comparable to that which was given to us by the first apostle of Christianity. The mind would like to dwell on the lineaments of such a man. Unhappily we have no pictorial presentment of his form and features ; nor do we know much about his life. He is not mentioned in any public document of his day ; his name appears in certain deeds and books of account, but not in connection with the achievement that has immortalised him. All our knowledge of him is obtained from a peculiar gossiping habit he had of interlarding his writings with biographical reminiscences and personal sentiments. A few of these must now be referred to ; but we avoid mere historical or statistical details, with a view to appre- ciate the man's mission rather than inves- tigate his life. He was born — we do not know when — in the Weald of Kent. Of the locality even we are ignorant. It was then a rude, almost barbarous country. The language was so broad as to be hardly recognisable as English. In fact, a century and a hali L FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. after the nativity of our benefactor, a typo- graphical writer described it as " a desert and waste wilderness," " stored and stuffed with herds of deer and droves of hogs only." Caxton's father was probably a landed pro- prietor ; else he could not either have given him such a good education as he undoubt- edly possessed, or apprenticed him to a London mercer, which proved the founda- tion of his fortunes. After being at school, Caxton was sent to London, and apprenticed to Robert Large, member of the Mercers' Company. The latter was, as documentary evidence proves, a man of great influence and wealth. Pie was a merchant as well as a mercer ; and it is nearly certain that among his merchan- dise were books. They were, however, rare, and consequently costly ; hence the mercer's apprentice was placed in favour- able circumstances to cultivate a taste for reading, which otherwise could not have been gratified without an expense obviously beyond his reach. Robert Large was Lord Mayor of London in 1439-40 ; and in the following year he died, leaving to Caxton twenty marks — a very considerable sum in those days. We now begin to get glimpses of the career of the future printer from stray records, and find that shortly after the decease of his master he went abroad. In 1464 Edward IV. issued a commission to Caxton and another to be his ambassa- dors and procurators to the Duke of Bur- gundy, in order to arrange a new treaty of commerce. This was effected : trade with England, which had been suspended for many years, was resumed. Caxton appears to have remained abroad on the scene of his diplomatic success at Bruges. He em- ployed his spare time in literary pursuits, and produced a book, which would not, however, commend itself to the taste of the present day. It is called " The Recuyell of the Histories of Troy," and was begun in 1468. It treated of chivalry, and its rontents were a curious agglomeration of romance and fact, philosophy and facetiae, with a thread of pious aspiration running through the whole. The translation was handed about in manuscript, and was highly appreciated. We are now again on con- jectural ground, and know not certainly how it came to be printed or by whom. Certain it was that, the " Histories of Troy" was the first published book in the English language. It is not yet settled from whom Caxton learned the art or where. There are two eminent authorities on the subject — Mr. Blades, of London, and M. Madden, of Versailles. The first believes that he learned it from Colard Mansion at Co- logne ; the other, from Ulric Zell, of Bruges. A vast amount of controversy has ensued on this particular point. Caxton published several other books abroad, whose titles we need not specify. Suffice it to say, that after remaining out of his native land for about thirty years, he came back to London with a practical knowledge of the art of printing. In 1477 there was issued a book called " The Dictes and Sayinges of Philosophres " — " Emprynted by one William Caxton, a't Westminster." It was the first book printed in England. Caxton's press was set up in the precincts of the sacred building, and there he laboured up to the time of his death. His publications are very numerous, his enterprise was indefatigable, and pro- bably his financial success was not incon- siderable. We cannot here give a bibliographical list of " Caxtons," those precious volumes now worth sums averaging ^400 and ^500 each. But we must refer to one indicative in its tone of the prevailing sentiment of its author. It was written, as we know, from the words of an apprentice who survived his master — Wynken de Worde — when the old printer was just on the verge of the grave. The title is " The Art and Craft to know well to Die," and in the commencement are the following words ; — " When it is so, that what man maketh or doeth it is made to come to some end, and if the thing be good and well made it must needs come to good end; then by better and greater reason every man ought to intend in such wise to live in this world in keeping the commandments of God that WILLIAM CAXTON. he may come to a good end. And then out of this world, full of wretchedness and tribulations, he may go to heaven unto God and His saints, unto joy perdurable." A very little later, in 1492, Caxton had come to his own end. Such is a very rough outline sketch of the life of one whose earnestness, industry, enthusiasm, and rectitude are not unworthv of imitation in an age like our own, api to undervalue such virtues. His piety was tinged with mediaeval superstition, yet was THE ALMONRY, WESTMINSTER. {From an old print.') unaffected and sincere. He never over- rated his work, although he must have fore- seen its tremendous importance and signifi- cance. Englishmen may well be proud of such a man : and although we have no monument of him in brass or stone, his memorial is universal. As was said of the great German proto-printer, his monument is " the frailest but the most enduring — it is The Book." 148 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. £IR ]0H^ BURQOYNE fwoHN Fox Burgoyne was the son of the Right Hon. John Bur- goyne, whose name was well ^ known to the public nearly a century ago, not only as a public man, a member of Parliament, and a dramatic writer, but also as the " best-abused " man of his day. He com- manded the forces in America in 1777, and led an expedition into Canada which was intended as a bold movement against the insurgents ; but, in consequence of a mis- adventure, and from not being supported by General Howe, as intended, was forced to surrender to the Americans. He was also severely assailed by " Junius " as a political adherent of the Duke of Grafton. Little is known about his early life save and except the fact that he received his second name after the celebrated Charles James Fox, who was his godfather and one of the most intimate personal and political friends of his father. To Eton he was sent at an early age, but all that is known of him at Eton is that he did not care much for Latin verses, his constructive genius taking quite a different turn from his very child- hood ; and that he was " fag " to the his- torian Hallam, with whom he kept up an acquaintance which lasted until the death of the latter. Possibly, too, he cared less for his fathers dramas than for his military achievements, for before long he was trans- planted to the Military Academy at Wool- wich, where he went through the usual course of mathematics and fortification. In August, 1798, he was gazetted to a lieu- tenant's commission in the Royal Engi- neers. In April, 1800, Burgoyne sailed in the memorable expedition sent to the Mediter- ranean under Sir Ralph Abercrombie, to counteract the designs of the great Napoleon. Proceeding to the Mediterranean, he took an active part in the blockade of Malta and the capture of Valetta, which, after a stub- born resistance on the part of the French, placed the citadel of the Mediterranean in the hands of England. In 1806 we find him actively employed in Sicily ; in the same yeai he embarked as Commanding Engineer with the expedition to Egypt, under Major-General Fraser, and was pre- sent at the capture of Alexandria and the siege of Rosetta. His spirited conduct on these occasions attracted the notice of the Commander-in-Chief, and won especial mention in the despatches sent home to the Horse Guards. At the close of the last-men- tioned expedition Sir John Moore applied for his services, and he accordingly returned to Sicily in the autumn. We next find him employed for a short time in Sweden, whence he was transferred to Portugal ; was present throughout the entire campaign, and finally shared with his lamented chiefs the memorable retreat on Corunna, where he formed one of that melancholy party which laid Sir John Moore in his hastily dug grave. In the last-named affair Captain Bur- goyne, for such was now his rank, was ordered to blow up the bridge at Bene- vento, so as to stop the advance of the French ; but in order to detain them as long as possible and to give more time to the British troops, he was instructed to delay firing the mine until the very last moment. The French advanced parties held the further end of the bridge at the moment when he exploded the charge which completely destroyed the structure. Again, in the retreat before Messana to the lines of Lisbon, he received orders to blow up Fort Conception as soon as the French advanced in force ; but in order to check their passage as effectually as possible, he was ordered on no account to allow himself to be deceived by any detachment, but to remain steady until the main body of the SIX JOHN- BURGOYNR. M9 French moved up. This operation, like the one before mentioned, required much cool- ness and nerve, as well as great professional skill, and it is almost needless to add that it was completely successful. After a short absence Burgoyne was ordered to join the army under Sir Arthur Wellesley in Spain, where he was actively employed until the close of the war. There was not a siege in which he did not take an active part, and there were few battles where he was not under fire. He took part in the passage of the Douro, the battle of Busaco, the two sieges of Badajoz, the siege and battle of Salamanca, the battle of Vit- toria, the siege of San Sebastian, the action of the Bidassoa, the battle of Nivelle, the passage of the Adour, the blockade of Bayonne, etc. It is well known that the sieges in the Peninsula did not offer much opportunity for testing the professional merits of the corps of Engineers, as, on account of the want of Sappers and Miners, and the scarcity of every requisite for such an undertaking, they were forced to convert the sieges into what the French term at- taques brusques, and our army paid dearly in loss of life for our neglect of the scientific branches of the service. Nevertheless, the British engineers were as abundant in readi- ness of resource, in zeal and gallantry, as they were deficient in materiel ; and it was noted as a remarkable fact that, in spite of the total want of everything necessary for regular siege operations, the self-same for- tresses in the Peninsula, when attacked by the British and garrisoned by the French, fell in a much shorter time than when attacked by the French and garrisoned by the Spaniards, and that, too, although the French engineers possessed a supply of all or most of those means in which the English were so deficient. Burgoyne, who attained ti.e rank of Colonel during the war, was urst or second in command of the Engineers at most of the sieges of the Peninsula. The Duke of Wellington frequently expressed a very high opinion of his military capacity, and more seriously than in jest used to say of him in reference to that diffidence and modesty which always marked the man, and showed rather than hid his merits, " If Bur- goyne only knew his own worth as an officer, there would be no one in the army to equal him." Within a few months of the close of the war in the Peninsula, Colonel Burgoyne, ever active and indefatigable, was again " in harness," being appointed Command- ing Engineer of the expedition to New Orleans under General Sir Edward Paken- ham. Here he found repeated opportu- nities of gaining distinction; his spirited conduct at an attack on the enemy's en- trenched position, and at the siege of Fort Bowyer, brought his name more promi- nently forward than ever, and materially advanced his professional prospects. He was highly complimented by the Com- mander-in-Chief of the expedition, and his services were more than once acknow- ledged and recommended to the notice of the authorities at home. It was by an accident, or rather we should say, perhaps, by a freak of fortune that Burgoyne was not present on the field of Waterloo. The gallant Sir Thomas Picton, who had learnt his value in the Peninsula, and who appreciated his merits as highly as his old friend and chief, Sir John Moore, was desirous of securing the services of so able an officer for the army in Flanders, and, it is said, made a formal application to the Government with this view ; but for some reason or other the opportunity was lost to Burgoyne of bearing his part in the crowning victory. He could well afford to lose the laurels which he might have gathered there ; for, with the single exception of Waterloo, there was not one great or im- portant action in the entire war, from its beginning to its end, in which Burgoyne did not bear a part. Disappointed, however, as he must have been, we find him within one short month after the battle once more serving actively under the orders of his great commander, for he joined the Army of Occupation at Paris, and remained there until the close of the occupation. To a soldier of less energetic disposition FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. and less active and indefatigable habits than the late Field-Marsha!, it is more than probable that the peace of forty years which followed on the victory of Waterloo would have represented a long period of compar- ative ease and retirement. But Colonel Burgoyne was far too active and zealous for anything of the kind; he easily and cheer- fully adapted his energies to other work, and rendered good service to the country at large in a purely civil capacity. For some years he held the appointment of Chairman of the Board of Public Works in Ireland, and by the engineering operations which he planned and carried out during that critical period, he very considerably benefited Ireland, and especially the Irish poor. In 1845 ne was selected by the Government to fill the post of Inspector- General of Fortifications. It was while he held this post that he addressed to the Duke of Wellington his memorable official letter upon the defence- less state of our national coasts and seaports after that long interval of peace and inac- tivity. The Iron Duke took the matter up with a zeal and energy proportioned to its intrinsic importance ; and large sums of money were voted by Parliament for the purpose of making good the deficiencies and omissions of bygone years. In the year 1847 "the Famine" broke out in Ireland, with fever and other ills in its train, and Sir John Burgoyne was ap- pointed to conduct and organize the Com- mission for its relief. Of this Commission he was the life and soul, and none laboured more diligently or perseveringly to ensure its efficiency. It was also well known to his friends that he was constantly employed by the Government in many confidential transactions, the nature of which at the time was never allowed to transpire. In a word, there never was a more useful civil servant of the Crown than Sir John Burgoyne, or one whose wide range of military experience could be more readily made available for the benefit of the public at large. We now pass to the most important chapter in the career of Sir John Burgoyne — we mean the part which he played in the Russian war. When in the winter of 1853- 54 it became evident that Russia " meant mischief," and was bent upon disturbing the peace of Europe, Sir John Burgoyne was sent to Constantinople to report upon the measures necessary for the defence of the Ottoman Porte. As soon as the gallant General returned to Europe the real state of the case was made known ; the Govern- ment was not long in making up its mind, and Sir John was appointed Lieutenant- General on the staff of the Army of the East. It would be easy enough to dash off the rest of the Crimean story in a few short words, merely saying that to Sir John Bui- goyne was entrusted the management of the landing of the British forces on the shores of the Crimea ; that he suggested the flank movement to the southern side of Sebas- topol ; that from the first he pointed out the Malakoff as the key of the entire position ; that he conducted the siege operations be- fore Sebastopol up to the middle or end of March, 1855, when he was recalled to Eng- land, leaving Sir Harry Jones to complete the work which he had originated. It may safely be asserted that whatever were the shortcomings of the leaders of the British army itself, the Engineers, under Burgoyne, from the very commencement of the cam- paign, may claim for themselves the credit of having given what proved to be the right advice at the critical moment with respect to the landing at Eupatoria, and it is well known that their advice was but the echo of that of Sir John Burgoyne. The French officers and a portion of the English, includ- ing Sir George Brown, were in favour of attempting a landing at the mouth of the Katcha. Sir John Burgoyne, however, objected to the spot, and at first stood almost alone in his objection ; for his keen and experienced eye detected it to be, from its configuration, a hazardous place for dis- embarking troops, and he suggested instead the spot which was afterwards agreed upon by both armies. Again, when the landing had been suc- cessfully accomplished, and the battle of SIR JOHN BURGOYNE. the Alma had been won, the next step was to attack Sebastopol. An investment of the place with the forces which the allies had at that time brought into the field was quite out of the question, and the main point for consideration was on which side the attack should be made. Here, again, the eye of our able Engineer officer dis- cerned the true course to be followed. The French were in favour of attacking the city on the side nearest to themselves ; but Sir John Burgoyne showed that even if that side, which was the least strongly fortified, were taken, the task of besieging the city would really have to be begun de novo, and urged that the true base of operations in the present case was the fleet, as more easily moved than the army, and that the dangers of a flank march such as that which brought us to the plateau above Balaklava were largely outweighed by its advantages. The disadvantage of the north side lay in the fact that the army could not have covered its base of operations, so that com- munication with the fleet was always liable to be cut off by works thrown up by the enemy. Although the position was only defective at this period, a few weeks later it would have been positively dangerous, for the Russians had developed such an unex- pected force at the period of the battle of Inkerman that they could have thrown up entrenchments, and blocked up the allied army on the narrow promontory between the Belbec and Sebastopol, and the safety of the whole force would have been seriously compromised. The army was saved from this danger by the flank march to the south, and it will be remembered that the principal reason given by Sir John for this movement #as that the allies could take up a very strong position on the south side of the harbour, which would cover all the bays from which they would derive their supplies. The correctness of this reasoning was shown by the fruitless efforts afterwards made by the enemy to force the positions at Balaklava and at Inkerman. When the army had advanced thus far, the proper work of the Engineer officers commenced, for they had to determine which was the most vulnerable portion of the fortress, and against which, therefore, the chief efforts of the allies should be directed. Here, again, the superior genius of British engineering was vindicated by Sir John Burgoyne, for, while our allies desired to attack the town itself, he pointed from the first to the MalakofT as when taken involving the fall of the city. We are all aware that the plan of the French was adopted at first, and we are also well aware with how little success, and how great a loss of lives and of money it cost England. But at length, though not until the gallant old General had returned home, both the English and the French commanders came round to his view, and, concentrating their whole strength on the MalakofT, took it by assault. With the MalakofT the key of Sebastopol passed into the hands of the allies, and Sebastopol fell, thus justifying Burgoyne's prediction to the very letter, for the fall of that tower rendered the other fortifications untenable. Indeed, from first to last, whatever amount of success attended the expedition to the Crimea would appear to have been due, to say the least, as largely to Sir John Burgoyne as to any other single individual. By the landing at Eupatoria not only was the disembarkation of our troops effected in security, but a lodgment was made in the rear of the enemy. Lord Raglan acknowledged in the noblest manner how much he was indebted to the advice and assistance of Sir John Burgoyne at the battle of the Alma, and it has been stated that he addressed a despatch to the Horse Guards requesting that he might be pro- moted to the rank of General, and that his promotion should date from the time of the battle itself. At the battle of Inkerman, Burgoyne was again in action, and Lord Raglan in his despatch on that occasion once more acknowledged the great assist- ance which he received from his experience and counsel. It was indeed unfortunate for the British army, much more than for the Field-Marshal whose loss we are lamenting, that precisely FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. 152 at the time when the superiority of his judgment in engineering matters was begin- ning to be recognised, and his plans had come to be adopted, the authorities at home resolved on his recall, and so one of the most meritorious officers in our army was thrown over as a victim to popular discon- tent. Accordingly, he returned to England, leaving to others to gather the laurels which he had planted and to some extent reared. The rest of Sir John Burgoyne's story is soon told. Not long after the fall of Sebas- topol he was advanced to the rank of full General, and was created a Baronet of the United Kingdom. At a subsequent date Sir John Burgoyne received from his sove- reign the baton of a Field-Marshal, and from the city of London the freedom of the city in a casket of gold. On the death of Lord Combermere he was appointed to the dignified office of Constable of the Tower of London. He was also selected by Her Majesty for the honour of heading a mission to Paris in charge of the funeral car of the Great Na- poleon, which he presented to the Emperor in Her Majesty's name. The late Field- Marshal, besides his letter to the Duke of Wellington already men- tioned, was the author of a pamphlet of great value on " Army Reform," as also of a treatise on " The Blasting of Rocks," and of several important papers on military affairs in the professional papers of the Royal Engineers. He enjoyed the most perfect health and strength until he had long passed the age of fourscore years, and when nearer ninety than eighty he liked to puf in an appearance among the visitors at the Harrow speeches or the 4th of June at Eton. He married in 1821 Miss Charlotte Rose, the daughter of a Nairnshire gentle- man, by whom he had a family of seven daughters and a son. When he retired from active employment he had already held a commission for just seventy years, and he lived long enough to enjoy for some time the repose which he was so well entitled to claim. His only son, Captain Hugh T. Burgoyne, was an officer of the Legion of Honour and one of the first recipients of the Victoria Cross in 1857. He commanded the Wrangler gunboat at the capture of Kin- burn, and was drowned in Her Majesty's ship Captain in September, 1870. His death, without issue, caused the title of his gallant father to become extinct. Sir John, indeed, never recovered the severe shock caused by this terrible loss. He was taken seriously ill with the malady called eczema, but in the beginning of August, 1 87 1, rallied wonderfully, to the surprise of his medical attendants, and was able to leave his room for several days. In October he became worse again at his house in Pembridge Square, and gradually weak ened until Saturday morning, the 7th, when he passed away, without a sigh, in perfec* peace. WAR CORRESPONDENTS. 153 WAR CORRESPONDENT^. pecial correspondence is really but a thing of yester- day. Middle-aged news- paper readers may well re- J^&sffilM member /'WtjJj yet no thought the time when as English journal it worth while to exert itself energetically in the way of obtaining articles descriptive of important events from the pens of con- tributors specially engaged for the purpose. There was often, it is true, a spirited competition in the matter of rapid transmission of news. If there was a great political gathering, for example, at Bristol or at Liverpool, it was thought desirable at any expense to transmit the shorthand-writer's report by means of relays of light gigs, provided if possible with faster horses than any rival journal had been able to secure. If we remember rightly, " Our Own Correspondent " first appeared in the shape of " Our Special Commissioner," who, though he was pretty nearly identical in his functions, nevertheless conveyed both to the journalistic and the public mind a somewhat different idea. He was sup- posed to be a person of calm judgment and special knowledge, who had been retained by the newspaper he represented for the purpose of inquiring in a semi-judicial way into some matter of great public interest concerning which it had been found diffi- cult to arrive at trustworthy conclusions. The causes, the nature, and the actual extent of the famine in Ireland consequent on the failure of the potato crop in 1846-7, the condition of the London poor and their alleged sufferings from the sudden introduction of Free Trade, are among the subjects which in this way were elaborately examined and reported upon on behalf of particular journals. Nowadays, how- ever, " Special Commissioner " is a term almost unknown. "Our Own Correspon- dent " has absorbed his duties in much more comprehensive functions. Instead of being a mere casual and accidental per- son, he is a permanent feature — perhaps the most important of all features — of English journalism. This fact is never more apparent than during the progress of a great war like that which taxed all the energies and resources of the Turkish and Russian Governments. The War Correspondent naturally dates from the period of the Crimean War, the first great military contest in which England had been engaged since Waterloo. How deep an impression was created by the brilliant descriptive articles of Dr. Russell, whom The Times had, with characteristic energy, engaged to accompany the ex- pedition even from our shores, is well known. The Indian Mutiny and the Civil War in America gave a further develop- ment to this system, but it was not until the great war between France and Germany that the War Correspondent be- came the all-important personage which in time of war he is now universally felt to be. A writer who would draw a portrait of a typical War Correspondent after the man- ner of La Bruyere or Sir Thomas Over- bury would have to attribute to him no in- considerable number of qualifications. He must, in the first place, be healthy and vigorous, and capable of bearing fatigue and privation to a degree which few persons are equal to ; he should be active and self- denying ; he should ride well and speak languages ; he should be imposing enough in appearance to inspire respect in a cut- throat Bashi-Bazouk or a marauding Cos- sack. It is needless to say that he should be a person of strong nerves, and not habitually over-anxious for his personal safety. Military knowledge and experi- ence are absolutely essential, and these not '54 FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. only in regard to details, for he must be capable of readily understanding and ap- preciating the significance and importance of combined movements and of strategy in general. But all these qualities would, of course, avail nothing if he was wanting in the literary art which enables a writer to effectively portray what he has seen. Lastly, if he represents a journal like The Graphic, he must not only have the artist's e»;e for a picture, but the artistic skill neces- sary for taking a rapid sketch under con- ditions not often favourable for the exercise of his powers. The great fact of war correspondence in these days is the transmission of letters by the electric telegraph. If we remember rightly, it was the Daily News that first set the example of transmitting, not a mere brief summary, but an entire article descriptive of some great military event by means of the electric wires. The occasion was the fall of Metz, the story of which, occupying a column and a half, appeared to the surprise of the public on the very morning after the surrender. From that day newspapers, in time of a war which predominates over all other topics of in- MR. F. VILLIERS, Artist of "The Graphic. terest, may be said to have lived by u the wires " alone. Long special letters from the seat of war, it is true, do make their appearance daily ; but it is the great object of newspaper enterprise to outstrip the lag- ging post, and, with the first intimation of a good battle, to publish a full description and decisive comment cn the result. The credit of the most surprising feat in this way yet accomplished is unquestionably due to Mr. Archibald Forbes, the famous correspondent of the Daily A r ews, whose brilliant description of the battle before Plevna and the disastrous retreat of the Russian army, occupying five and a quarter newspaper columns, and comprising 6,200 words, was in most part actually written in the telegraph office while the entire narra- tive was in the course of transmission It must not, however, be supposed that the war correspondent's duties consist only in seeing battles and writing about them. With him the great question is, " When? can I go with a reasonable hope of finding the telegraph officials disengaged, and willing to transmit a message of such an extraordinary kind ? " — a question necessai ily shifting as the scene of battle changes ID* tNMM if Mit WAR CORRESPONDENTS. In some instances he may get assistance from couriers; but more often he must ride himself— day and night, if necessary — to some place in neutral territory, where he hopes he will neither be harassed by official scruples about disseminating unpleasant tid- ings, nor impeded by the hurry and confu- sion which always prevail in telegraph offices in the vicinity of important military opera- tions. Piteous descriptions were published of the trammels under which our newspaper correspondents with the Turkish armies were compelled to discharge their duties. To the credit of the Russian commanders, it should be mentioned that they have shown themselves less afraid of disagreeable truths. A striking example of this is the fact that, so far from taking offence at Mr. Forbes' terribly picturesque narrative of their sufferings and humiliations in the disastrous struggles before Plevna, it has been officially intimated by the Russian commander-in- chief that orders were sent from head- quarters to all the official newspapers in Russia that, pending the issue of the formal Government report, a full translation of Mr. Forbes' telegram was to be accepted by them, and represented as substantially MELTON PRIOR, Artist oj "T/ie Illustrated News, accurate both as regards the details and the result of the conflict. Of all the illustrations of enterprise on the part of our great newspapers, perhaps that of the New York Herald and the Daily Telegraph, in sending Mr. H. M. Stanley in search of David Livingstone, is the most conspicuous. Mr. Stanley had passed through much active warfare. During the American War he enlisted in the Confederate service, and was taken prisoner by the Union soldiers, from whom he escaped in the most daring man- ner. Pie subsequently represented the New York Herald in the Abyssinian cam- paign, and was present at the capture of Magdala. Then he travelled in various parts of the world, till he was unexpectedly summoned from Spain by James Gordon Bennett, to fit out an expedition to find Dr. Livingstone, of whom nothing had been heard for more than two years. The thrill- ing story of how he accomplished this task will stand as a monument of newspaper enterprise as well as an illustration of the indomitable courage possessed by its corre- spondents. His recent career in the service of the King of the Belgians, in founding the new Congo State in the heart of Africa, is fresh in the minds of our readers. FAMOUS. MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. A WAF(EHOU£E OF WOJNDEF^. he Stevens family of Hoboken, United States, has shown ex- traordinarymechanical ability and inventive genius in two generations. Of Col. John Stevens it has been said that, without having made any superlatively great improve- ment in the steam-engine, and without being the first to pro- pose navigation by steam, he showed a better knowledge of engineering than any man of his time. He was born in 1749, and in 1804 he constructed a propeller with such success that he was encouraged to build the Phoenix, a steam- boat almost contemporaneous with Fulton's Clermont. In 18 12, when there was not a locomotive in the world, he described a plan for applying steam to locomotion on land. Not only its feasibility, but the precise mode of its application, its cost, and its almost illimitable advantages, were clearly and definitely stated ; but the pro- jector was scorned as a visionary, as Stephenson was scorned at a later period. In the same year he designed an ironclad vessel with a saucer-shaped hull, carrying a heavy battery, and plated sufficiently to resist the most formidable ordnance then known, which has since been reproduced by the celebrated Elder of Glasgow ; and to him the world is indebted for the sectional steam-boiler, the revolving turret for war- ships, and the high-pressure form of steam- engine. His sons inherited his ability. Robert L. Stevens became known as a most successful steamboat builder, and designed the famous battery which, as an instrument of war, has never been surpassed. He also invented the elongated shell for projection from ordinary cannon, and the hollow or con- cave water or wave lines in the bows of vessels. As was his father, he was assisted by his brothers, and when he died his work on the floating battery was continued by Edwin A. Stevens until death removed him also. When Edwin A. Stevens died he provided for the foundation of the Stevens Institute of Technology, at Hoboken, New Jersey, bequeathing nearly a million of dollars for the purpose, and that excellent educational establishment, which has one ot the completest collections of apparatus in the world, commemorates the genius of the family more effectively than the most pre- tentious mausoleum. The building is pleasantly situated on the banks of the Hudson ; it is three storeys high, and the principal material is granite. The aggregate floor space is more than an acre, inclusive of the wings attached to the main building, under which is a basement with steam-boilers for heating the building and supplying the machinery, metallurgical furnaces, a foundry, several galvanic batteries, a machine-shop, and reservoirs for hydrogen and oxygen. The scholars of the institute are not limited to text-books ; the design is to make efficient mechanical engineers of them, and when the class exercises are over they are to be found in the basement, dressed in overalls, with hammer, anvil, lathe, and dynamo- meters, applying in actual experience, under practical mechanics, all they have learned in the class-rooms. At one side of the main entrance on the first floor is the private office of the presi- dent, in which science has been made a con- venient handmaiden through the telephone and telegraph, which place the president in immediate communication with all parts of the building. The tables and the mantel- piece are overweighted with instruments, models, books, and relics of the Transit of Venus observations, in which the president assisted ; and at the desk in the middle of the floor is the president himself, a youthful A WAREHOUSE OF WONDERS. looking gentleman, whose yellowish hair is touched with white, and whose face is only now beginning to show the last-wrought lines of excessive study. In the west wing is the chemical labora- tory, with water, gas, sand-baths, drying- closets, and filter pumps ; and on the same (loor is a balance-room, a store-room, a physical laboratory, of which we shall see more by-and-by, a reception-room, and a gymnasium, which is easily converted into a lecture-room, the stage being portable and swung up against the wall when not in use. The second floor contains the chemical lecture-room, a mathematical department, a department of mechanical engineering, the studies of the professors, a museum of optical instruments, the theatre of the department of physics, and various class- rooms. The third floor contains a private labor- atory for the professor of chemistry, a museum of mineralogy, a department of electric measurement, a photographic-room, a department of languages, a department of drawing, the lecture-room of the depart- ment of belles-lettres, and the workshop of a firm which receives students for practical instruction in the manufacture of philoso- phical instruments. We have not enumerated all the details, fearing that we might weary the unscientific reader to whom we address ourselves, and we may simply add that there is not an unsubstantial wall in the building ; it is well furnished, and no appliance that could give comfort to the inmates has been omitted. The collection of apparatus is un- doubtedly the most complete in the United States, and comprises, besides full sets of those embodying late improvements, the identical instruments used by many famous discoverers in science. The cabinet of optical instruments has been declared to contain more riches than all the cabinets of France, and perhaps of Europe combined, and in the engineering department the collection includes, besides a variety of modern machinery, some invaluable relics, such as the high-pressure condensing en- gine, the tubular boiler, and screw, which drove the Phamix up the Hudson early in this century. Thus, while availing himself of instruments of exquisite adjustment and perfect finish, which facilitate his work in a manner unknown to his predecessors, the student can trace the successive develop- ments by the actual object, and find a stimulus to ambition in repeating the ex- periments made by Faraday or others with the very apparatus that the great physicists themselves employed. The education given is technical, and it may qualify a boy to be an architect, a chemist, or a civil engineer ; but its special design is to prepare its students for the trade of a mechanical engineer. The course of instruction lasts four years. In the department of mathematics and me- chanics the studies are, first year, elemen- tary mechanics, geometry, trigonometry and algebra; in the second year, analytical geometry, differential and integral calculus ; in the third year, analytical mechanics, the resistance of materials, and the theory of bridge-building ; and, in the fourth year, the theory of bridges, and roofs and graphic statics. The course in belles-lettres is as usual. Chemistry is included in the second and third years of the course, and in the fourth year to advanced students. In the department of physics the first year is devoted to the inductive method of research, inductive mechanics, the properties of matter, pneumatics, heat, the laws of vibratory motions, and acoustics ; the second year, to the application of the laws of heat to heat engines, meteorology, light, magnetism and electricity; the third year, to the construction, the methods of adjust- ment, and the manner of using instruments in precise measurements ; and the fourth year to laboratory work. In the department of engineering two years are devoted to the study of mechan- ical science and the materials of construc- tion. The student becomes familiar with the fabrication of typical machines, and the form as well as the theory of prime movers. FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. He spends two days a week in the work- shop, and there learns the construction, use and manipulation of machine tools, the mechanic's " knack," and he observes work in progress under the hands of experienced men. He visits the foundry, where the moulder is busy, and he soon learns the technic of that business; pattern making and other occupations are also seen in practice. In brief, it is intended that, though he may not leave the Institute a completely equipped workman, he shall be prepared to become one in a short time. In the mechanical laboratory he uses the apparatus of the engineer and learns the forms of machines for determining the tensile, tensional, and transverse strength of materials, the steam-engine, the indicator, etc. ; he takes part in tests of all kinds of materials of construction, and in using the dynamometer and other instruments. A simple catalogue of the objects in the collections would be of interest to the scientist, and a description of even the most important ones would fill a volume ; but we address ourselves to the unscientific reader, as we have said, and with him we propose to simply wander from cabinet to cabinet in search of wonderment. Besides the model of John Stevens' first steamboat, is a steam-boiler for an experi- mental locomotive built in the early part of the present century ; the English patent on the boiler, issued in 1805, is also here, and autograph letters from Robert Fulton, Robert Stephenson, and Commodore Deca- tur are hung against the wails. " This/' said our guide, " is the machine to which Professor Tyndall took his hat off," and he indicated an electro-magnet, the largest ever constructed, weighing nearly a ton, and containing in its eight spools some two thousand yards of wire. A number of problems in magnetism have already been solved by it, and its power renders it in- estimably valuable for future investigations. " First take your watch off," continued the curator, "and then I will exhibit it to you; if you stood near it with your watch in your pocket it would instantly magnetize the movement." When we had obeyed him. he gave us a piece of iron probably weighing two pounds, and we held this out to the magnet at a distance of about two feet from it. In an instant the invisible power snatched it out of our hands and sealed it to the magnet, which stren- uously refused to surrender it. A copper disk was seized in a similar manner, and when we stood with our backs to the machine the current passing through our bodies was so strong that two pieces of iron that we held several inches apart became instantly united. The curator made a variety of experiments to show us its immense power, and the prettiest of all was this : he placed over the magnet a wooden tray containing a quantity of coarse iron filings ; as soon as he revolved the crank attached to the machine, the fibres of iron became erect in the bottom of the tray and assumed the form of trees until they seemed like a forest of Sierra pines in miniature. When the current was discon- tinued they relapsed, and in a few seconds were again the grains of iron in the bottom of the tray. The curator next showed us a tube lamp in a water-tight vessel, which has been used in attracting fish to a particular spot, not, however, with such success that its general adoption is at all likely; and in adjoining cabinets were electric sand-blast stencils, by which letters an inch deep or the finest tracery may be engraved on glass ; a little iron machine used in mines previous to the invention of the safety- lamp, by which a flint held against a plane wheel gave the operator light ; some micrometer screws, by which the thousandth part of an inch can be measured ; an inductive coil throw- ing an electric spark two inches, and several electric lights having the power 01 twenty thousand candles each. THE FOUNDER OF A REPUBLIC. 159 Of A REPUBLIC. consequence of his new views, exposed him to a great deal of harsh treatment from the authorities of the University, and he at length returned home. His father then, in the hope of curing him of what he thought his fanatical notions, sent him to travel to France and the Low Countries, On his return he entered as a student of law at Lincoln's Inn, but was soon sent over by his father to Ireland to take charge of some landed property which the admiral possessed in that country. He was at this time in his twenty-second year. Penn's visit to Ireland completed his conversion to Quakerism. Having met there the same preacher who had made the first impressions on him at Oxford, he was soon course of conduct which he adopted in j brought to join himself openly and without THE FOUNDER, ne of the greatest names among the early English Quakers, and immortal as the founder of the colony of Pennsylvania, is that of William Penn. The founder of Pennsylvania was born in London in 1644. His father was the celebrated Sir William Penn, A who greatly distinguished ^ himself in the war against the Dutch in the reign of Charles II. At the ige of sixteen, Penn was sent to Christ Church, Oxford, and it was while at the University that he was converted to the tenets of the Friends by a discourse which he heard from one of their preachers. The FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. reserve to the sect whose opinions he shared, and to adopt all the peculiar habits by which they were distinguished. His father upon this sent for him home ; but he was now too decidedly convinced of the necessity of persevering in the course to which he had committed himself to make any concession or compromise, and accord- ingly, it is said, on his first appearance before the old admiral, he confounded him by advancing with his hat on, and address- ing him with the singular salutation, " I am very glad, friend, to see thee in good health." Sir William thought his son had gone mad, and ordered him to the door. Such is the story, told originally, we believe, by Voltaire. But it may possibly after Jill be little more than a fiction of that accomplished jester. The grossest mis- representation of the conduct and language of Penn and his brethren are to be found in graver works than the one in which this anecdote appears. Let one example suffice. On the accession of James II., the Quakers, among many other public bodies, presented an address to the new monarch, of which the principal object was to crave toleration for their unoffending and peaceful tenets. It contained no singularity of expression whatever, beginning, " Whereas, it hath pleased Almighty God (by whom kings reign) to take hence the late King Charles II., and to preserve thee peaceably to succeed ; we, thy subjects, heartily desire that the Giver of all good and perfect gifts may please to endue thee with wisdom and mercy in the use of thy great power, to His glory, the king's honour, and the kingdom's good ; " and proceeding throughout in the same dignified and perfectly respectful and unpresuming style. Yet this address, the historian Echard, professing to transcribe its exact words, has thought proper to give in the following form : " We are come to testify our sorrow for the death of our good friend Charles, and our joy for thy being made our governor. We are told thou art not of the persuasion of the Church of England, no more are we ; therefore we 'nope that thou wilt grant us the same liberty which thou grantest thyself." This most dishonest and malignant travesty has been copied by subsequent historians. In 1688 Penn first appeared publicly as a preacher in favour of Quakerism and against the Established Church, for which he was committed to the Tower. He endured an imprisonment of about seven months; and then, having regained his liberty, proceeded a second time to Ireland, ?,nd recommenced preaching. In 1670 we find him again in London, where, having been brought before the Lord Mayor on a charge of illegal preaching in the streets, he was afterwards tried at the Old Bailey, and, although acquitted by the jury, was by the scandalous tyranny of the time once more sent to prison, and detained in con- finement till his father secretly purchased his release. He then proceeded, in company with the celebrated George Fox, to France and Germany, in both of which countries the two Friends laboured unsparingly in the propagation of their opinions. The serious illness of his father, however, soon recalled him to England, where on his arrival he found the admiral on his death-bed, but very anxious not to leave the world without being reconciled to his son. Penn, indeed, tells us in one of his works that he found his father now become almost a Quaker as well as himself. The death of Sir William left him in pos- session of landed property to the value of .£1,500 a year, besides a claim upon the Crown and the amount of £16,000 more. He now therefore married, and settled at Rickmansworth, in Hertfordshire. Finding it difficult or impossible to obtain payment of his debt from the Crown in money, he at length petitioned for a grant of land in North America ; and after some delay he obtained a large tract of country lying immediately to the west of New Jersey, by a charter dated the 1st of March, 1681. The same year he left England to take possession of his purchase, accompanied by numerous families of his own persuasion to colonise the new territory. THREE YEARS AMONG THE SAVAGES. One of the first steps which the incipient legislator took was to enter into a treaty with the Indian chiefs of the neighbourhood, to whom, having assembled them around him under an old oak-tree, he deliberately explained by an intrepreter the several articles which he proposed, that each might be formally assented to, after it was fully understood. The late Mr. West, himself a native of Pennsylvania, has painted this scene, which took place on the spot where the town of Philadelphia now stands, and which future events have invested, both to Americans and to civilized man in every clime, with so deep an interest. The remainder of Penn's life was chiefly spent in superintending the growth and government of the colony which he had thus founded, and which he had the happiness of seeing every day become more flourishing and populous. nc returned to England in 16S3 ; and on tne accession of James II., about two years afterwards, he became a great favourite at court. On the Revolution, indeed, his ifti intimate connection with the deposed monarch brought him into such suspicion, that his American colony was seized by the Crown, and he was obliged to conceal himself for some years. It was not till 1696 that his possessions and their govern- ment were returned to him. Soon after this, his wife having died, he married a second time, and in 1699 he returned to America, taking his family with him. Here he was received with joy, both by the British colonists and the Indians. After residing in Pennsylvania for about two years, and taking an affecting farewell of its population, who regarded him as a father, he again set sail for England. The close of Penn's life was clouded and distressed by pecuniary embarrassments in which he had become involved ; and in 17 12 he sustained a stroke of apoplexy, which greatly weakened both his mind and ins body. He languished, however, under tne consequences of this attack for six years longer, dying on the 30th of July, 17 18, ai his seat, at Ruscomb, in Berkshire. THP\EE YEAR,£ A/v10NQ THE £AVAQE,S. She common proverb as to the strangeness of truth as com- pared with fiction, has had few illustrations more com- plete than in the following story — few, moreover, which present certain great practical lessons more impressively. The truthfulness of the story, moreover, may be vouched T \j for in every particular. September 4th, 1853, the barque Sarah Moriss left Sydney, New South Wales, for San Francisco, with merchandise and pas- sengers. Among these was Mr. Losee, a native of New York, who, with his wife, was returning to the United States, after a resi- dence of some years in Sydney. On the 2nd of December, the vessel, being then among the Micronesian Islands, was carelessly allowed to strike upon the reef of Raven Island, one of the Caroline group. There it soon went to pieces, but not until the entire ship's company had been safely landed, together with a con- siderable quantity of provisions and one boat. Here they determined to remain until some passing vessel should take them off. Raven Island, however, lies outside the usual track of ships, and the prospect of relief from this quarter seemed small. Twice sails were sighted, but so far away that their signals were not observed. And so it was determined to send a boat to Ascension Island, which lay about ninety miles to the north-west, and which was a M FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS, resort of vessels needing water. Thence help, it was thought, could easily be sent. The captain of the Sarah Moriss was first urged to lead such an expedition ; and on his refusal, it was put under direction of one Captain Brown. Five others from the crew and passengers volunteered to accompany him, Mr. Losee being one. The boat was repaired and provisioned for the voyage, but it was not until the 15th of January, 1854, that the little band of six fairly set forth on their hazardous errand. Twice before this they had attempted it, but had been compelled by storms to turn back. This time their start was made in the early morning, and all day they ran before favour- able winds. As night drew on, however, the wind shifted, blew heavily, and, despite all their efforts, drove them from their course. After battling with the elements, adverse winds and currents for another day, a majority of the crew refused to go farther in that direction, and reluctantly the boat was headed once more for Raven Island. Rough weather and baffling currents still opposed them, and rendered the attempt to return as difficult as their search had been. Finally, after several days spent in tossing upon the unknown sea, the hope of rejoin- ing their friends was also abandoned ; and it was determined, if possible, to reach some other of the Caroline Islands, which lay, as they supposed, to the south of them. Just one week from the date of leaving Raven Island they again sighted land, and were met by a canoe containing eight natives, fishermen apparently, who, with demonstrations of friendship, piloted them within the reef. This islet they found to be small and uninhabited, though others, not far away, showed signs of considerable population. After seven weary days within their float- ing prison, it may well be imagined that the prospect of walking the dry land was most agreeable. Hauling their boat therefore upon the beach, and removing all its equip- ments, they prepared to rest themselves befoic again engaging in their search. The natives guided them to springs of fresh water, and then signed for them to follow to a grove of cocoa-nut trees. Mr. Losee and one companion volunteered to accom- pany two of the natives for this purpose, but before starting warned their friends against the natives, urging them to maintain con- stant watch, and on no account to sleep all of them at once. Hardly, however, had they reached the other side of the island— about half a mile distant — and began to gather nuts, when a shout was heard. At once the natives dropped everything and ran, closely fol- lowed by the white men. Arriving at the beach, a sorry sight presented itself. Cap- tain Brown lay upon the ground, transfixed with a spear. Two others were similarly disabled, and the fourth had run to the bush. The natives, meanwhile, were seizing everything on which they could lay hands, and loading it into their canoe. The precaution of maintaining a watch, it seems, had not been observed ; the man left on guard had yielded to fatigue, and fallen asleep ; the natives had taken advan- tage of this to attempt the murder of the whole party and appropriate their effects. The first spear thrown had missed its aim, but had awakened the captain, who, leaping to his feet, had rushed upon the treacherous natives. They had fallen back before the counter assault, and but for the cowardice of one of the white men would have doubt- less been driven to their canoe ; but, seeing him run away, they had regained courage, and recommenced the attack. Three spears had entered the body of Captain Brown ; two of them he had himself removed, and had then fallen, being by the third trans- fixed and pinned to the earth. The other men were bleeding profusely, though not dangerously wounded. Something must be done to inspire the savages with fear, or the lives of none of the party were worth an hour's purchase. So, seizing a spear, and uttering the mos fc unearthly yells, Mr. Losee rushed forward, his companions also joining in the attack. That determined action turned the tables rtlfiEE YEARS AMONG THE SAVAGES. on the natives; and hastily pushing off their canoe they paddled away, taking with them their spoils. For the present the little party were safe ; but no time was to be lost in escaping from the island before their enemies, reinforced, should return. Hastily pushing the boat into the water, therefore, they took with them the wounded men, and rowed away. Sails, papers, compass, provisions, clothing — everything had been taken by the savage thieves, except the oars on which the boat had rested, a little water, and fifteen hard biscuits, which had been overlooked. It was indeed a sorry enough prospect with which they again put to sea. Two hours after starting poor Captain Brown died. The other wounded men could render no assistance, and so the labour of rowing and steering fell upon the remaining three. And thus for four long days, from sunrise to sunset, and from evening to morning, they laboured and watched for passing ship or for land. It was land which they then discovered, a small island not then in- habited, although it had been previously, for huts were standing, domestic cats still haunting them, and upon the beach hoop- iron and empty liquor bottles, sure tokens of advanced civilization, remained in evi- dence, not only of occupancy, but of passing vessels ; so, an abundance of fruits being found there, it was determined to remain until rescued, and meanwhile to make themselves as comfortable as possible. For about a month they had thus been iiving quietly, when, on the afternoon of February 23rd, they observed a canoe standing toward the island. Anticipating such an occurrence, they had provided themselves with clubs and spears, and had practised themselves in the use of them. Now they set to work upon a sail from the fibre of the cocoa-nut tree. While thus engaged, the canoe came to land, and the seven savages whom it contained ap- proached them with friendly gestures. But taught by sad experience, they were not, as may be supposed, inclined to trust much to such demonstrations, and did not for an 161 instant relax their vigilance. The wily savages shared their hut with them and their food, and made various attempts to separate them, but in vain. Not for one instant or upon any pretext would they suffer themselves to be parted. These tactics failing, the demand was next madr for their boat and clothing, and these being refused, the attitude of the savages became more and more threatening, until, late in the day, they took to their canoe, saying that they would go to another island to sleep. This action did not tend to allay appre- hension in the minds of the little party, and a sharp watch was kept up during the night. Just before daylight the canoe was seen pushing off in the direction from which their visitors had come ; doubtless the savages returning to their own island for aid, and would soon return. Preparations for departure were accordingly hastened ; the sail was finished, water cask filled, bread fruit and cocoa-nuts pulled ; and then, taking the boat round to the outside of the low reef, they moored it in the shadow of the rocks and awaited events. Before very long three large war-canoes were descried in the distance, filled with men, rapidly ap- proaching. Lying low behind the reef, the savages passed within the lagoon without discovering them, and leaped upon shore, brandishing spears and clubs furiously, ap- parently much surprised to find the birds had flown. It was hard for the gentle savages to be cheated thus out of the savoury mess for which their mouths watered ; but there was no help for it, and so with chastened spirits they set about preparations for a feast. Their intended victims, meanwhile, seeing how things were turning, hoisted sail and bore away. Then for the first time the savages discovered their presence, and, rushing out upon the reef, hurled spear after spear in impotent rage. Before nightfall the little island was hidden from sight. Alone once more upon the waste of waters, the boat was headed north in hope of reaching Ascension Island. Thick FAMOUS MEN AND FAMOUS DEEDS. stormy weather shut in around them; heavy seas tossed them wildly to and fro ; a pint of water and one cocoa-nut was the daily allowance of food for each man. Fif- teen days of such experience passed slowly over their heads. Then the allowance of water was cut down to half a pint each. It seemed useless to continue longer on that course, and so the prow was turned toward the south. Nine days more of suffering and suspense follow — twenty-four days since '.heir sail was hoisted — then land appeared. They had reached the little group known as Sir Charles Hardy's Islands, and upon one of these they beached their boat. Ema- ciated, covered with sores, weak, so that they tottered rather than walked, they gained the shore ; those less disabled sup- porting their feebler comrades, found a few young cocoa-nuts, the milk of which they drank, and then lay down to sleep. Their coming had evidently been ob- served, for in the morning several canoes came near the shore, and one of them was landed. The natives, who were of quite a different race from any before met, had evidently never seen a white man — the islands indeed, it was found, are quite out of the usual track of vessels— but they jeemed to be kindly disposed, and, though they would not allow the strangers to ap- proach within thirty yards of them, yet gave them aid by plucking the young cocoa-nuts and placing them within reach. It was soon found that the island at which ihey had touched was uninhabited, small, and incapable of supporting life. It was also evident to the little band that they could not longer endure the hardships to which for the past twenty-four days they had been exposed. The perils of the land were less than of the sea. Accordingly, taking to their boat again, they made for a con- siderable settlement on land about eight miles distant. Nearing the island, the shore was seen to be crowded with natives, who motioned to them to come ashore, and wading out into the surf towed the boat to land. The voyagers at on~