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Hardin v. Boyd/Opinion of the Court

In reference to amendments of equity pleadings the courts have found it impracticable to lay down a rule that would govern all cases. This allowance must, at every stage of the cause, rest in the discretion of the court; and that discretion must depend largely on the special circumstances of each case. It may be said, generally, that in passing upon applications to amend, the ends of justice should never be sacrificed to mere form, or by too rigid an adherence to technical rules of practice. Undoubtedly, great caution should be exercised where the application comes after the litigation has continued for some time, or when the granting of it would cause serious inconvencience or expense to the opposite side. And an amendment should rarely, if ever, be permitted where it would materially change the very substance of the case made by the bill, and to which the parties have directed their proofs. The rule is thus stated in Lyon v. Tallmadge, 1 Johns. Ch. 188: 'If the bill be found defective in its prayer for relief, or in proper parties, or in the omission or statement of fact or circumstance connected with the substance of the case, but not forming the substance itself, the amendment is usually granted. But the substance of the bill must contain ground for relief. There must be equity in the case, when fully stated and correctly applied to the proper parties, sufficient to warrant a decree.' And in 1 Daniell, Ch. Pr. (5th Ed.) 384, the author, after alluding to the rule in reference to amendments, observes: 'The instances, however, in which this will be done are confined to those where it appears, from the case made by the bill, that the plaintiff is entitled to relief, although different from that sought by the specific prayer; when the object of the proposed amendment is to make a new case, it will not be permitted.' Whether the amendment in question changed the substance of the case, or made a new one, we proceed to inquire.

The original bill in this suit certainly states facts entitling complainants to some relief. He and his wife were in possession, asserting title, freed from all claim of whatever kind upon the part either of the heirs or of the estate of Ware. The complainants evidently supposed that the relief to which they were entitled was a cancellation, upon the ground of fraud, f Hardin's contract of purchase, as well as of the deeds to him and his wife, with an accounting that would embrace, on one side, the rents and profits derived from the lands; and, on the other, the value of the scrip or warrants that he had delivered in part payment of the purchase money. But if it were doubtful whether the evidence was sufficient to justify a decree setting aside the contract upon the ground of fraud or imposition practiced upon the vendor, and if the evidence clearly showed that the purchaser had not fully paid for the lands, according to the terms of his purchase, should the complainants have been driven to a new suit in order to enforce a lien for the unpaid purchase money? And this, too, after the parties had taken their proofs upon the issue, distinctly made by the pleadings, as to the amount of the purchase money really due from Hardin? Such practice would have done no good to either party, and must have resulted in delay and additional expense to both. A new suit to enforce a lien on the land would have brought before the court the same evidence that was taken in this cause as to the amount Hardin had paid. When leave was asked to amend the prayer for relief, no objection was made by the defendant; but, the amendment having been allowed, he excepted, but without any suggestion of surprise, or any intimation that he was able or desired to produce additional proof upon that issue. Apart from the allegations in reference to fraud in obtaining the title bond, the bill made a case of non-payment of the greater part of the purchase money. To amend the prayer of the bill so as to justify a decree consistent with that fact did not make a new case, nor materially change the substance of the one actually presented by the bill and the proofs. It served only to enable the court to adapt its measure of relief to a case distinctly alleged and satisfactorily proved. The complainants could thereby meet the objection, which otherwise might have been urged, that the nature of the specific relief originally asked precluded the court from giving, under the general prayer, the particular relief which the amendment and the proof authorized.

It is a well-settled rule that the complaint, if not certain as to the specific relief to which he is entitled, may frame his prayer in the alternative, so that if one kind of relief is denied another may be granted; the relief, of each kind, being consistent with the case made by the bill. Terry v. Rosell, 32 Ark. 492; Colton v. Ross, 2 Paige, 396; Lloyd v. Brewster, 4 Paige, 540; Lingan v. Henderson, 1 Bland, 252; Murphy v. Clark, 1 Smedes & M. 236. Under the liberal rules of chancery practice which now obtain, there is no sound reason why the original bill in this case might not have been framed with a prayer for the cancellation of the contract upon the ground of fraud, and an accounting between the parties, and, in the alternative, for a decree which, without disturbing the contract, would give a lien on the lands for unpaid purchase money. The matters in question arose out of one transaction, and were so directly connected with each other that they could well have been incorporated in one suit involving the determination of the rights of the parties with respect to the lands. The amendment had no other effect than to make the bill read just as it might have been originally prepared consistently with the established rules of equity practice. It suggested no change or modification of its allegations, and, in no just sense, made a new case.

The decision in Shields v. Barrow, 17 How. 130, is invoked, with some confidence, as authority against the action of the court in allowing the prayer of the bill to be amended. That was a suit to set aside an agreement of compromise on the ground of fraud and imposition, and to restore the complainant to his original rights under a contract for the sale of certain lands and other property. The bill was fatally defective as to parties. No dec ee could have been based upon it, for indispensable parties were not before the court, and could not be subjected to its jurisdiction. The amendment of the bill, there tendered and allowed by the court of original jurisdiction, not only asked that the compromise, if held binding, be specifically enforced, but it brought into the case entirely new issues of fact and law, and made an additional defendant, in his individual capacity and as tutor of his minor children. The relief sought by that amendment was, therefore, not within the case set out in the original bill. Nor was the application there, as here, simply to amend the prayer of the bill, so as to ask, in the alternative, for specific relief within the case as originally presented. It was regarded by this court as an attempt, under the cover of amendment, to change the very substance of the case. That such was its view upon the point necessary to be decided is clear from the opinion, for the court said: 'To strike out the entire substance and prayer of a bill, and insert a new case by way of amendment, leaves the record unnecessarily incumbered with the original proceedings, increases expenses, and complicates the suit; it is far better to require the complainant to begin anew. To insert a wholly different case is not properly an amendment, and should not be considered within the rules on that subject.' The circumstances of the present case are entirely different from those in Shields v. Barrow. The amendment here did not introduce new allegations, nor make additional parties, nor incumber the record, nor increase the expenses of the litigation, nor complicate the suit, nor make new issues of fact. It simply enabled the court, upon the case made by the original bill, to give the relief which that case justified. Neale v. Neales, 9 Wall. 8; Tremolo Patent Case, 23 Wall. 518; Burgess v. Graffam, 10 Fed. Rep. 219; Battle v. ''Mutual Ins. Co.'' 10 Blatchf. 417; Ogden v. Thornton, 30 N. J. Eq. 573; McConnell v. McConnell, 11 Vt. 291.

We are of opinion, for the reasons stated, that the amendment of the prayer of the bill was properly allowed, and that there was no error in adjudging that Ware's estate had a lien on the land for the balance of purchase money. The deed to W. D. Hardin, and the deed of the latter to his wife, having been properly canceled, the legal title remained in the heirs of the vendor. They are not bound to surrender that title except upon the performance of the conditions upon which their ancestor agreed to convey, viz., the payment of the purchase money. According to the local law, they occupied the position of mortgagees; for 'the legal effect of a title bond is like a deed executed by the vendor and a mortgage back by the vendee.' Holman v. Patterson's Heirs, 29 Ark. 363; Martin v. O'Bannon, 35 Ark. 68. The heirs of Ware held the title in trust for the purchaser, while Hardin was a trustee for the payment of the purchase money. Shall v. Biscoe, 18 Ark. 157; Moore v. Anders, 14 Ark. 629; Holman v. Patterson's Heirs, 29 Ark. 363; Bayley v. Greenleaf, 7 Wheat. 50; Boone v. Chiles, 10 Pet. 225; Lewis v. Hawkins, 23 Wall. 126; 1 Story, Eq. Jur. § 1217 et seq.; 2 Sugd. Vend. 375, c. 19, note d.

But it is contended that the debt for unpaid purchase money, as well as the lien claimed therefor, are equally barred by the statute of limitations of Arkansas. An action to recover the debt may be barred by limitation, yet the right to enforce the lien for the purchase money may still exist. Lewis v. Hawkins, 23 Wall. 127; Birnie v. Main, 29 Ark. 593; Coldcleugh v. Johnson, 34 Ark. 318. In the case last cited the supreme court of Arkansas said: 'The debt itself would appear to be barred in 1872, and no action could be brought at law. But the bar of the debt does not necessarily preclude a mortgagee or vendor retaining the legal title from proceeding in rem in a ourt of equity to enforce his specific lien upon the land itself. * *  * Unless the defendant can show that the lien has been in some way discharged and extinguished, or lost upon some equitable principles, such as estoppel, he can only interpose the bar of adverse possession of the land for such time as would bar the action at law for its recovery.' In the same case it was held that, as between mortgagor and mortgagee, the possession of the mortgagor is not inconsistent with the mortgagee's right so long as the latter does not treat the former as a treapasser; that where the mortgagor remained the actual occupant with the consent of the mortgagee he was strictly tenant at will; that if the tenancy be determined by the death of the mortgagor, and his heirs or devisees enter and hold without any recognition of the mortgagor's title by payment of interest or other act, an adverse possession may be considered to take place. 'The principle,' said the court, 'is a wholesome one for both parties, as it enables the mortgagee (or vendor by title bond) to rest securely on his legal title, and indulge the mortgagor or purchaser, while the latter can easily, upon payment, procure the legal title, or have satisfaction of the mortgage entered of record under the statute; and even if he should neglect this, a court of chancery would not entertain a stale demand for foreclosure after many years without clear proof rebutting the presumption of payment; or if the mortgagor should die and the heirs should enter without recognition of the mortgagee's rights, the statute of limitations would commence to run as in case of adverse possession.'

When did adverse possession begin in the present case? Not when Hardin took possession of the land, for he went into possession in the life-time of the vendor, and with his consent. The claim of adverse possession cannot be took possession of the land, for he went in the probate court purporting to authorize and direct the administrator of Ware to execute a deed to Hardin, or upon the deed which was made to him by such administrator; for, according to the weight of evidence, no such action was ever taken by the court and, by its order, made a matter of record, and that deed, although filed for record, was never recorded during the period when Hardin held the office of clerk of that court, nor until 1877. So that there was nothing upon the public record of conveyances, as shown at the hearing, nor in any of the circumstances attending Hardin's possession prior to the conveyance to his wife, that showed such open, notorious adverse possession of the land as was requisite to change the relations orginally existing between the vendor and purchaser, or between the latter and the heirs of the former. Hardin's possession under the deed of the administrator was simply a continuation of the possession originally obtained with the consent of his vendor. If it be said that Mrs. Hardin's possession under the deed from her husband was, upon her part, an assertion of title adverse to any claim that Ware's estate had, it may be answered that such possession commenced less than seven years prior to the bringing action or suits to be brought within which the statutes of Arkansas require action or suits to be brought for the recovery of real estate.

It is objected to the decree that the value of the county scrip or warrant, which the court found had not been delivered by Hardin in payment for the land, should have been ascertained upon the basis of value as alleged in the original bill, namely, 10 cents on the dollar, and this, although the answer placed their value at 75 cents. According to the preponderance of evidence they were worth about 70 cents on the dollar of their face value. The court was not obliged to accept the allegations of value in the pleadings, and should have been controlled on this point by the evidence. We do not perceive any error in the aggregate amount ascertained to be due, taking the two installments of purchase money at he market value of the scrip or warrants, in which they were payable at the time they were respectively due, and giving interest upon those amounts from the maturity of each installment.

Some time after the decree Hardin filed a petition for rehearing, submitting therewith copies of numerous papers (alleged to have been lost at and before the final hearing) purporting to relate to a suit instituted by the heirs of Ware in the Crittenden circuit court against L. B. Hardin for the purpose of having him removed as administrator, or preventing his interfering with the assets of the estate. The record of that suit, it was alleged in the petition for rehearing, disproved the principal grounds upon which the decree in this case was rested. Without assenting to this view, and without commenting upon the failure of the petition to disclose the circumstances under which the papers alleged to have been lost were found, it is sufficient to say that the granting of a rehearing was a matter within the discretion of the court below, and not to be reviewed here.

Other questions are discussed in the briefs of counsel, but we have noticed all that we deem of importance. There is no error in the decree, and it is affirmed.

title: Hardin v. Boyd/Opinion of the Court


text: Talk:Hardin v. Boyd/Opinion of the Court

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bowerbank, James Scott


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96 affections, though I was speaking to a priest and a soldier, two classes of men circumstantially divorced from the kind and homely ties of life.

"Your father and mother?" cried the priest. "Very well; you will convert them in their turn when you go home."

I think I see my father's face! I would rather tackle the Gætulian lion in his den than embark on such an enterprise against the family theologian. But now the hunt was up; priest and soldier were in full cry for my conversion; and the Work of the Propagation of the Faith, for which the people of Cheylard subscribed forty-eight francs ten centimes during 1877, was being gallantly pursued against myself. It was an odd but most effective proselytising. They never sought to convince me in argument, where I might have attempted some defence; but took it for granted that I was both ashamed and terrified at my position, and urged me solely on the point of time. Now, they said, when God had led me to our Lady of the Snows, now was the appointed hour.


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Rh "Do not be withheld by false shame," observed the priest, for my encouragement. For one who feels very similarly to all sects of religion, and who has never been able, even for a moment, to weigh seriously the merit of this or that creed on the eternal side of things, however much he may see to praise or blame upon the secular and temporal side, the situation thus created was both unfair and painful. I committed my second fault in tact, and tried to plead that it was all the same thing in the end, and we were all drawing near by different sides to the same kind and undiscriminating Friend and Father. That, as it seems to lay-spirits, would be the only gospel worthy of the name. But different men think differently; and this revolutionary aspiration brought down the priest with all the terrors of the law. He launched into harrowing details of hell. The damned, he said—on the authority of a little book which he had read not a week before, and which, to add conviction to conviction, he had fully intended to bring along with him in his pocket—were to occupy the same


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98 through all eternity in the midst of dismal tortures. And as he thus expatiated, he grew in nobility of aspect with his enthusiasm. As a result the pair concluded that I should seek out the Prior, since the Abbot was from home, and lay my case immediately before him. "C'est mon conseil comme ancien militaire," observed the Commandant; "et celui de monsieur comme prêtre."

"Oui" added the curé, sententiously nodding; "comme ancien militaire—et comme prêtre." At this moment, whilst I was somewhat embarrassed how to answer, in came one of the monks, a little brown fellow, as lively as a grig, and with an Italian accent, who threw himself at once into the contention, but in a milder and more persuasive vein, as befitted one of these pleasant brethren. Look at him, he said. The rule was very hard; he would have dearly liked to stay in his own country, Italy—it was well known how beautiful it was, the beautiful Italy; but then there were no Trappists in Italy; and he had a soul to save; and here he was.


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Rh I am afraid I must be at bottom, what a cheerful Indian critic has dubbed me, "a faddling hedonist"; for this description of the brother's motives gave me somewhat of a shock. I should have preferred to think he had chosen the life for its own sake, and not for ulterior purposes; and this shows how profoundly I was out of sympathy with these good Trappists, even when I was doing my best to sympathise. But to the curé the argument seemed decisive. "Hear that!" he cried. "And I have seen a marquis here, a marquis, a marquis"— he repeated the holy word three times over—"and other persons high in society; and generals. And here, at your side, is this gentleman, who has been so many years in armies—decorated, an old warrior. And here he is, ready to dedicate himself to God." I was by this time so thoroughly embarrassed that I pleaded cold feet, and made my escape from the apartment. It was a furious windy morning, with a sky much cleared, and long and potent intervals of sunshine; and I wandered until


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100 dinner in the wild country towards the east, sorely staggered and beaten upon by the gale, but rewarded with some striking views. At dinner the Work of the Propagation of the Faith was recommenced, and on this occasion still more distastefully to me. The priest asked me many questions as to the contemptible faith of my fathers, and received my replies with a kind of ecclesiastical titter.

"Your sect," he said once; "for I think you will admit it would be doing it too much honour to call it a religion." "As you please, monsieur," said I. "La parole est à vous."

At length I grew annoyed beyond endurance; and although he was on his own ground, and, what is more to the purpose, an old man, and so holding a claim upon my toleration, I could not avoid a protest against this uncivil usage. He was sadly discountenanced. "I assure you," he said, "I have no inclination to laugh in my heart. I have no other feeling but interest in your soul."


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Rh And there ended my conversion. Honest man! He was no dangerous deceiver; but a country parson, full of zeal and faith. Long may he tread Gévaudan with his kilted skirts—a man strong to walk and strong to comfort his parishioners in death! I dare say he would beat bravely through a snow-storm where his duty called him; and it is not always the most faithful believer who makes the cunningest apostle.


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 and representative institutions. Nor did he stand alone; beside him was his able partner, Dr. Wardell, a man of force of character and courage, himself free of any criminal taint. His foremost follower was a still more notable man, Dr. William Bland [q. v.] With such colleagues Wentworth formed the ‘Patriotic Association;’ not content with stirring up opposition to the governor and his officials in the colony itself, they actively engaged in agitation in the English parliament, and men of high mark like Henry Lytton Bulwer and Charles Buller were their agents in the House of Commons. Wentworth's struggle with Darling culminated in what is known as the ‘Sudds and Thompson Case.’ In 1826 two privates of the 57th regiment had committed an act of robbery in order to procure their discharge from the army and to be enrolled as criminals, in the hope of sharing in due course in that prosperity of the emancipated convicts which had filled the soldiers with envy (, Australian Commonwealth). This case was by no means an isolated one; ‘the perpetration of crimes was common among the soldiery, who hoped thereby to escape further service and enter the happy ranks of the convicted.’ Governor Darling determined to put this state of things down with a high hand. Sudds and Thompson were sentenced to hard labour on the roads in irons, stripped of their uniforms, clad in convict garb, and drummed out of the garrison; nor did this severe sentence relieve them from subsequent military service. Sudds died of a fever within a few days of his degradation, whereupon Wentworth wrote a letter of impeachment to the secretary of state (20 July 1826). It fills thirty-five folio pages, and the evidence taken by the governor and by Wentworth in the colony filled another eighteen. With characteristic vehemence Wentworth set on foot an agitation in the English parliament for the recall of the governor, and, although Sir Ralph Darling was acquitted by a select committee of the House of Commons, he was eventually in October 1831 recalled in obedience to this clamour. To accept (as some writers do) Wentworth's impeachment as an historical document is to mistake the denunciations of the criminal prosecutor for the summing up of the judge. Wentworth's ablest and most thoroughgoing panegyrist, Mr. G. W. Rusden, disproves most of the charges against Darling, who, it must be remembered, was supported in his policy by the humane Saxe Bannister [q. v.], attorney-general, and by Alexander Macleay [q. v.], colonial secretary.

At the public meeting held in Sydney in honour of the accession of William IV, Wentworth carried an amendment to the customary loyal address, in which he besought his majesty ‘to extend to the only colony of Britain bereft of the right of Britons a full participation in the benefits and privileges of the British constitution.’ The succeeding governor, Sir Richard Bourke [q. v.], strove to placate Wentworth without alienating the old ruling caste. To the disgust of many, Bourke made Wentworth a magistrate and personally visited him at his estate, and at all times was greatly guided by his advice. Wentworth's old opponent Macleay was superseded by Deas Thomson as colonial secretary. The general community prospered under the régime of a governor who was wise enough to be advised unofficially by its ablest member. Bourke was succeeded by Sir George Gipps [q. v.], who originally intended to recommend Wentworth for nomination to the legislative council, but an historic dispute led to the withdrawal of that nomination. Early in 1840 seven Maori chiefs were in Sydney, and they were invited to sign at government house a declaration of their willingness to accept the queen as their sovereign. They attended and heard the necessary document read; each of them received ten pounds, and they were to return to the governor in two days to sign the declaration. They did not return. To a message sent to them, one of their English hosts replied that they had been advised to sign no treaty which did not contain full security for the natives. It appeared that Wentworth had so advised. But Wentworth had meanwhile personally entered into independent negotiations with the seven Maori chiefs who did not keep their appointment at government house. He had promised them two hundred pounds a year for life after they had nominally sold to him a hundred thousand acres in the northern, and twenty million of acres in the middle, island (, History of New Zealand, i. 224). For two days Wentworth spoke and cited authorities in favour of the claims which he had thus acquired before the governor in council, but Sir George Gipps at once pronounced the alleged purchase invalid and repugnant to the laws of the realm, and declared that all the ‘jobs done since Walpole’ sank into insignificance in comparison with that which the ‘Australian patriot’ desired him to sanction. Wentworth threw up his commission as a magistrate, while Gipps withdrew his nomination to the council, and the two men were thenceforth inveterate foes.

On 5 Sept. 1842 Lord Stanley (afterwards


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 Earl of Derby) conferred parliamentary institutions on Australia by his Constitution Act (5 and 6 Vict. cap. 76), under which the partially elective legislative council of New South Wales was created. When the writs were issued for this, the first election in Australia, ‘a new pulse beat in the veins of the people. … That which Wentworth had worked for, after a quarter of a century had come upon the land. His name was on every tongue’ . Wentworth and Bland were returned by an overwhelming majority for Sydney; the former's brother, Major D'Arcy Wentworth, was elected for a country borough. Richard Windeyer [q. v.], known to be friendly to Wentworth's views, was also returned. The council assembled on 1 Aug. 1843, and proceeded to elect a speaker. Even then there were limits to Wentworth's supremacy, and his old antagonist, Alexander Macleay, then in his seventy-seventh year, was elected to the chair. When it was moved that a ‘humble address’ should be presented to the governor, Wentworth expunged the word ‘humble.’ He at once attempted to remedy the financial evils of the time by a bill to regulate the rate of interest and a lien on wool bill; while he and Windeyer vigorously assailed the schedules under which the salaries of imperial officials and the cost of convict establishments were guaranteed. Sir George Gipps looked in vain among his nominees for a debater capable of meeting those eloquent reformers. Robert Lowe (afterwards Lord Sherbrooke) [q. v.] had newly arrived in the colony, and Gipps had already discussed with him in private the probable working of the new legislative machine. Having completely alienated Wentworth by the overthrow of his land claims in New Zealand, Gipps decided to nominate Lowe for the seat in the council which he had originally reserved for the ‘Australian patriot.’ In a few months Lowe, finding that the governor expected the non-official nominees to support his officials and to vote against the popular representatives on every occasion, right or wrong, resigned his seat. He was shortly afterwards elected for St. Vincent and Auckland, and joined Wentworth and Windeyer in the leadership of the opposition.

Wentworth by this time had embarked very largely in pastoral pursuits, and had become the acknowledged leader of the squatter party, among whom were many of the old imperial officials who had settled in the colony. The ‘Pastoral Association’ was formed with Wentworth at its head, and the Hon. Francis Scott (brother of Lord Polwarth) as its paid agent in the House of Commons. At first Lowe supported Wentworth and the squatters, and at a public banquet given by the Pastoral Association to Wentworth in the hall of Sydney College, 26 Jan. 1846, described him as ‘the great son of the soil.’ Subsequently Lowe declared that ‘the suppliants had become masters,’ and he and Wentworth fell into bitter conflict over the land question and the policy of transportation.

It has been the almost universal verdict of colonial writers that, with advancing years and increasing wealth, Wentworth deserted his early political convictions. This he himself denied. He asserted that his guiding political aim throughout life was to form a self-governing British state in Australasia, based on the British constitution, which, he declared, recognised all forms of personal and class distinction compatible with individual freedom and popular rights. Democracy he disclaimed and detested as based on an utterly false theory—that of human equality. When in his earlier years he so vehemently denounced all ‘set over him in authority,’ it was never on democratic grounds. He may have found it necessary or expedient to work with English liberals or colonial radicals; but he was no radical himself. His aim was to secure self-government for his native land, ‘to rid it of red-tape,’ and at the same time to form a self-governing, anti-democratic community with an Australian territorial upper class corresponding to the English landed gentry, whom he regarded as the peculiar glory of the mother-land. Nor was Wentworth conscious of any inconsistency between his early philippics on behalf of liberty and his later attempt to create for himself and others large landed estates. When twitted by a friend for his bold attempt to appropriate almost the whole of New Zealand, he is said to have replied, ‘Ralegh and Strafford, my two favourite English heroes, would have done precisely the same.’ He was never convinced by the arguments in favour of free trade, but, like the English country gentleman of Peel's time, remained to the end a staunch protectionist. With characteristic courage, in face of the rising flood of philanthropic and humanitarian sentiment on both sides, he upheld the system of sending out ship-loads of British criminals to Australia, and of utilising them as ‘assigned servants.’

At the general election of 1848 Wentworth and Bland were suddenly confronted in Sydney with the opposition of Robert Lowe, who, without his consent, was nominated at the last moment for the metropolitan constituency by the ‘anti-transporta-


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 tion and liberal party,’ of which (Sir) Henry Parkes was the moving spirit (, Fifty Years in the making of Australian History). It was only by the most strenuous effort that Wentworth retained his position on the poll, while his old friend and colleague, Dr. Bland, was defeated, and Lowe returned in his stead. The contest was uncompromisingly bitter from start to finish, and the two chief orators vied with one another in personal invective (, Life and Letters of Lord Sherbrooke, i. 362). It shows Wentworth's acknowledged supremacy that Lowe, in the flush of his popular triumph, declared, when returning thanks after the election, that there was ‘no man in or out of Australia with whom he would be more proud to act, nor, if Mr. Wentworth would but regard public affairs from a national and not a merely personal standpoint, was there one whose leadership he should be more proud to follow’ (ib.)

On 4 Oct. 1849 Wentworth carried the second reading of a bill to found a university at Sydney; but owing to preliminary difficulties with regard to the constitution of the senate, it did not finally receive the assent of the governor, Sir Charles Fitzroy, until 1 Oct. 1850. When ‘the first colonial university in the British empire’ was formally inaugurated on 11 Oct. 1852, its founder was present as one of the fellows. Wentworth was a member of the first senate. In 1854 he gave 250l. for an annual prize for the best English essay; in 1862, 445l. towards a travelling scholarship; and in 1876 Mr. Fitzwilliam Wentworth, his eldest son, made a bequest of 2,000l. to found two bursaries in his father's honour. By royal charter (7 Feb. 1858) the same rank, style, and precedence were granted to the students at Sydney as are enjoyed by those at the English universities.

On 5 Aug. 1850 Earl Grey's Australian colonies government bill was passed (under which Port Phillip was erected into the separate colony of Victoria, and the 20l. household suffrage in the colony reduced to 10l.) Wentworth at once obtained a select committee of the legislative council to report on this measure; and on 1 May 1851 a ‘remonstrance’ was adopted and entered on the minutes. ‘The hand of the author, William Wentworth, fiercely eloquent, is visible in every line’ (, The Three Colonies of Australia, p. 176). At the election of 1851 Wentworth, though again returned for Sydney, was third on the poll; this was the result of the rapid increase of working-class immigrants, ‘interlopers,’ as he once termed them. Sir John Pakington, secretary of state, in a despatch on 15 Dec. 1852, announced that the English government had practically decided in accordance with Wentworth's ‘remonstrance’ to empower Australia to mould her own future (cf., Hist. of Australia, ii. 503). On receipt of this despatch (20 May 1853) the council appointed a committee to prepare a constitution; of this committee Wentworth was the mover, chairman, and dominant spirit. On 28 July Wentworth brought up the report which advocated ‘a form of government based on the analogies of the British constitution,’ and urged the advisability of ‘the creation of hereditary titles, leaving it to the option of the crown to annex to the title of the first patentee a seat for life’ in the upper house, ‘and conferring on the original patentees and their descendants, inheritors of their title, the power to elect a certain number of their order to form, in conjunction with the original patentees then living, an upper house of parliament which would be a great improvement on any form of legislative council hitherto tried or recommended in any British colony.’ The opposition on the part of the rising democracy out of doors to this clause was overpowering, and Wentworth very reluctantly had to consent to abandon his scheme for creating an Australian peerage. By abandoning the clauses relating to hereditary honours, Wentworth carried his bill by an overwhelming majority, and it was ‘reserved for her majesty's pleasure,’ the governor being requested to inform the secretary of state ‘that large majorities both of the nominated and elected members’ had voted for it. Wentworth and (Sir) Edward Deas Thomson [q. v.] were deputed by the council to proceed to England to advocate the constitution bill before the imperial parliament. The leaders of the liberal opposition in the colony, through Mr. (afterwards Sir Charles) Cowper, co-operated with Robert Lowe, who was then member for Kidderminster, to modify and amend the bill in the imperial parliament. This, to Wentworth's disgust, they succeeded in doing; and to his dying day he bitterly regretted that Lord John Russell had consented to strangle the clause under which it was decreed that no change in the Australian constitution should become law without the consent of a two-thirds majority of both houses. Having been compelled to forgo his titled upper house, Wentworth regarded this clause as the sheet-anchor against the storms and dangers of the rising colonial democracy whom he dreaded, and whose leader (Parkes) he dubbed the ‘archanarchist.’ He formed in London a ‘General Association for the


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 Australian Colonies,’ and endeavoured to induce the colonial office to inaugurate at once a federal assembly or parliament for Australia (March 1857). He may thus be regarded as the forerunner of the present ‘Commonwealth’ movement.

Wentworth was so disgusted with the democratic flood-tide and the shoals of digger-immigrants that he abandoned Australia and remained in England for some years, expressing from time to time in vigorous and uncomplimentary phrases his condemnation of the action of the new generation of colonial politicians. He spoke of Australia having been ‘precipitated into a nation by the discovery of gold;’ and at a public dinner given in his honour in Melbourne foretold the ruin of his country from this cause. In 1861 Wentworth returned to Sydney. He received a public address in the hall of the university, when his statue in the great hall, by Tenerani of Rome, was unveiled. He even consented to assist the governor, Sir John Young (Baron Lisgar) [q. v.], and Sir Charles Cowper by accepting the post of president of the legislative council. But at the end of 1862 he finally returned to England.

Wentworth died at Merly House, near Wimborne, Dorset, on 20 March 1872. By the unanimous vote of both houses of the New South Wales legislature it was fitly decreed that their founder should receive the honours of a public funeral, and his remains were removed from England and interred with great pomp and ceremony, and with marks of universal respect, at Vaucluse, Sydney, on 6 May 1872, the Anglican bishop of Sydney officiating, while Sir James Martin delivered a funeral oration. It fell to Wentworth's antagonist, Sir Henry Parkes, to second Sir James Martin's proposal for a public funeral; and as colonial secretary he made the arrangements for the ceremony. The vessel, the British Queen, that bore Wentworth's remains to Australia also carried the costly communion service bequeathed by him to St. Andrew's Cathedral, Sydney.

Wentworth was married at St. Michael's Church, Sydney, to Sarah, daughter of Francis Cox of that city, by whom he had two sons and five daughters. She died and was buried at Eastbourne, Sussex, in 1880.

In addition to Tenerani's statue in Sydney University there is a picture of Wentworth which hangs in the Houses of Parliament, and a fine medallion portrait by the late Thomas Woolner, R.A., is in the possession of the eldest son, Mr. Fitzwilliam Wentworth of Vaucluse, Sydney.

[No biography of Wentworth has yet been published, but it is understood that his son, Mr. Fitzwilliam Wentworth, has for years been collecting materials for the work. All the published accounts of his career are imperfect and fragmentary, even the date of his birth is variously stated—by Sir James Martin as ‘about 1790,’ by Mr. Henniker-Heaton and Mr. David Blair as 1791, and only in recent compilations, such as Mr. Mennell's Australian Dictionary of Biography and Burke's Colonial Gentry, is the correct date, 1793, given. The writer is indebted to Mr. E. A. Petherick for access to his invaluable collection of early Australian books and pamphlets and for personal assistance. He has also had at his disposal the unpublished papers of the late Lord Sherbrooke and the writer's own notes of conversations with the late Sir George Macleay, K.C.M.G. Rusden's Histories of Australia and New Zealand; Martin's Life and Letters of Lord Sherbrooke; Heaton's Dictionary of Dates, contain the fullest published accounts of Wentworth. The Australian, the Atlas, and the Sydney Morning Herald have also been consulted.]  WERBURGA or WERBURH, (d. 700?), abbess of Ely, was daughter of Wulfhere [q. v.], king of Mercia, and St. Ermenhild. Her mother was daughter of Earconbert, king of Kent, and Sexburga (d. 699?) [q. v.], a sister of St. Etheldreda [q. v.] or Æthelthryth. Werburga was, according to Ely tradition, left by her mother as abbess of her convent in Sheppey when Ermenhild went to Ely, and at her mother's death succeeded her as abbess of Ely. Her uncle Ethelred of Mercia set her over some Mercian nunneries, as Trentham and Hanbury in Staffordshire, and Weedon in Northamptonshire. According to an early tradition (, which says nothing of her very probable rule in Sheppey), she became a nun, and entered her great-aunt's monastery, where she worked miracles, on the death of her father Wulfhere in 675. She died at Trentham and was buried at Hanbury. The year of her death is given in the Chester annals as 690, though if there is any ground for the story that Ceolred of Mercia translated her body nine years after her death, when it is said to have been found incorrupt, she could not have died earlier than 700, which is generally given as an approximate date, for Ceolred's reign began in 709. There is no reason to doubt that her remains were carried to Chester during the Danish invasions, perhaps, according to tradition, in 875; it was believed that they then for the first time were subjected to decay, and that her body crumbled to dust. The assertion that she had lived as a nun at Chester in a monastery built by her father is probably


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168 "no other tent but the sky, and no other bed than my mother earth." All night a strong wind blew up the valley, and the acorns fell pattering over me from the oak. Yet, on this first night of October, the air was as mild as May, and I slept with the fur thrown back. I was much disturbed by the barking of a dog, an animal that I fear more than any wolf. A dog is vastly braver, and is besides supported by the sense of duty. If you kill a wolf, you meet with encouragement and praise; but if you kill a dog, the sacred rights of property and the domestic affections come clamouring round you for redress. At the end of a fagging day, the sharp, cruel note of a dog's bark is in itself a keen annoyance; and to a tramp like myself, he represents the sedentary and respectable world in its most hostile form. There is something of the clergyman or the lawyer about this engaging animal; and if he were not amenable to stones, the boldest man would shrink from travelling afoot. I respect dogs much in the domestic circle; but


text: Popular Tales from the Norse/Conclusion

title: Popular Tales from the Norse/Conclusion


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wentworth, Peter (1530?-1596)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wentworth, Peter (1592-1675)


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Rh on the highway or sleeping afield, I both detest and fear them. I was wakened next morning (Wednesday, October 2d) by the same dog—for I knew his bark—making a charge down the bank, and then, seeing me sit up, retreating again with great alacrity. The stars were not yet quite extinguished. The heaven was of that enchanting mild grey-blue of the early morn. A still clear light began to fall, and the trees on the hillside were outlined sharply against the sky. The wind had veered more to the north, and no longer reached me in the glen; but as I was going on with my preparations, it drove a white cloud very swiftly over the hill-top; and looking up, I was surprised to see the cloud dyed with gold. In these high regions of the air the sun was already shining as at noon. If only the clouds travelled high enough, we should see the same thing all night long. For it is always daylight in the fields of space. As I began to go up the valley, a draught of wind came down it out of the seat of the sunrise, although the clouds continued to run


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wentworth, Thomas (1501-1551)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wentworth, Thomas (1525-1584)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wentworth, Thomas (1568?-1628)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wentworth, Thomas (1593-1641)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wentworth, Thomas (1613-1665)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wentworth, Thomas (1591-1667)


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170 in an almost contrary direction. A few steps farther, and I saw a whole hillside gilded with the sun; and still a little beyond, between two peaks, a centre of dazzling brilliancy appeared floating in the sky, and I was once more face to face with the big bonfire that occupies the kernel of our system.

I met but one human being that forenoon, a dark military-looking wayfarer, who carried a game-bag on a baldric; but he made a remark that seems worthy of record. For when I asked him if he were Protestant or Catholic—— "O," said he, "I make no shame of my religion. I am a Catholic." He made no shame of it! The phrase is a piece of natural statistics; for it is the language of one in a minority. I thought with a smile of Bavile and his dragoons, and how you may ride rough-shod over a religion for a century, and leave it only the more lively for the friction. Ireland is still Catholic; the Cévennes still Protestant. It is not a basketful of law-papers, nor the hoofs and pistol-butts of a regiment of horse, that


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wentworth, William Charles


text: Author:Charles Fortescue-Brickdale

title: Author:Charles Fortescue-Brickdale


text: Template:DNB APM

title: Template:DNB APM


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 Bradwardine declined to appear and lodged a counter suit against the archdeacon in the king's court. The king, Edward III, compelled the archdeacon to submit to the arbitration of English judges, and the controversy ended in favour of the university, which was exempted from all episcopal jurisdiction.

During his residence in Oxford, Thomas Bradwardine obtained the highest reputation as a mathematician, astronomer, moral philosopher, and theologian. At the request of the fellow's of Merton he delivered to them a course of theological lectures, which he afterwards expanded into a treatise. This work earned him the title of Doctor Profundus: in his own day it was commonly called 'Summa Doctoris Profundi,' but in later times it has been entitled 'De Causâ Dei contra Pelagium, et de virtute causarum ad suos Mertonenses libri tres.' This treatise was edited by Sir Henry Savile in 1618 in a folio volume of nearly 1,000 pages. It continued to be for ages a standard authority amongst theologians of the Augustinian and Calvinistic school. Dean Milner gives a summary of its contents in his 'Church History' (iv. 79-106). According to Bradwardine the whole church had in his day become deeply infected with Pelagianism. 'I myself,' he says, 'was once so foolish and vain when I first applied myself to the study of philosophy as to be seduced by this error. In the schools of the philosophers I rarely heard a word said concerning grace, but we were continually told that we were the masters of our own free actions, and that it was in our own power to do well or ill.' He endeavours to prove, with much logical force and mathematical precision, that human actions are totally devoid of all merit, that they do not deserve grace even of congruity, that is as being meet and equitable - the most specious form of Pelagianism, and one which was most commonly entertained in that day. He maintains that human nature is absolutely incapable of conquering a single temptation without a supply of divine grace, and that this grace is the free and unmerited gift of God, whose knowledge and power are alike perfect. If God did not bestow His grace freely, He could not foresee how He would confer His gifts, and therefore His fore-knowledge would not be absolute; so that the doctrine of God's foreknowledge and free grace are linked together. Underlying all the hard and dry reasoning, however, of this treatise, there is a deep vein of warm and genuine piety which occasionally breaks out into fervent meditation and prayer, full of love, humility, and thankfulness.

The estimation in which Thomas Bradwardine was held as a theologian in his own century is indicated by the way in which Chaucer refers to him. In the 'Nun's Priest's Tale' the speaker, touching on the question of God's foreknowledge and man's free-will, is made to say:

About 1335 Bradwardine was, with seven other Merton men, summoned to London by Richard of Bury, who had been made bishop of Durham in 1333 and chancellor in the following year, and who surrounded himself with a large retinue of esquires and chaplains, partly from a love of splendour, partly from a love of the society of men of learning who could assist him in the formation of his library. In 1337 the Bishop of Durham obtained for his chaplain Bradwardine the chancellorship of St. Paul's Cathedral with the prebend of Cadington Minor attached to it. He soon afterwards accepted also a prebendal stall in Lincoln Cathedral, although not without some scruples and hesitation, owing to the objections then becoming prevalent against the non-residence of beneficiaries.

On the joint recommendation of Archbishop Stratford and the Bishop of Durham he was appointed one of the royal chaplains. Although the title of confessor was borne by all the king's chaplains, the language of Birchington seems to imply that Bradwardine actually received the confession of Edward III, which, considering what the life of the king then was, must have been a very difficult and unpleasant office if it was conscientiously discharged. He joined the court in Flanders and accompanied the king, 16 Aug. 1338, in his progress up the Rhine to hold a conference at Coblenz with his brother-in-law Lewis of Bavaria.

At Cologne Bradwardine reminded the king that Richard Coeur de Lion had offered public thanksgiving in the cathedral for his escape from the Duke of Austria. That cathedral had been destroyed by fire, but the new structure, which has not been completed till our own day, was in course of erection. The plans were submitted to the king, and after consultation with Bradwardine he subscribed a sum equal to 1,500l. according to the present value of money. Bradwardine continued to be in attendance upon the king up to the date of the victory of Cressy and the capture of Calais. He was so diligent in his exhortations to the king and the soldiers that many attributed the successes of the English arms to the favour of Heaven obtained through the wholesome warnings


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Rh can change one tittle of a ploughman's thoughts. Outdoor rustic people have not many ideas, but such as they have are hardy plants and thrive flourishingly in persecution. One who has grown a long while in the sweat of laborious noons, and under the stars at night, a frequenter of hills and forests, an old honest countryman, has, in the end, a sense of communion with the powers of the universe, and amicable relations towards his God. Like my mountain Plymouth Brother, he knows the Lord. His religion does not repose upon a choice of logic; it is the poetry of the man's experience, the philosophy of the history of his life. God, like a great power, like a great shining sun, has appeared to this simple fellow in the course of years, and become the ground and essence of his least reflections; and you may change creeds and dogmas by authority, or proclaim a new religion with the sound of trumpets, if you will; but here is a man who has his own thoughts, and will stubbornly adhere to them in good and evil. He is a Catholic, a Protestant, or a Plymouth Brother, in the same indefeasible sense


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172 that a man is not a woman, or a woman not a man. For he could not vary from his faith, unless he could eradicate all memory of the past, and, in a strict and not a conventional meaning, change his mind.


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Author:James Fortescue-Flannery

Works

 * (Liquid)

title: Author:James Fortescue-Flannery


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WAS now drawing near to Cassagnas, a cluster of black roofs upon the hillside, in this wild valley, among chestnut gardens, and looked upon in the clear air by many rocky peaks. The road along the Mimente is yet new, nor have the mountaineers recovered their surprise when the first cart arrived at Cassagnas. But although it lay thus apart from the current of men's business, this hamlet had already made a figure in the history of France. Hard by, in caverns of the mountain, was one of the five arsenals of the Camisards; where they laid up clothes and corn and arms against necessity, forged bayonets and sabres, and made themselves gunpowder with willow charcoal and saltpetre boiled in kettles. To the same caves, amid this multifarious industry, the sick and wounded were brought up to heal; and there they were visited


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174 by the two surgeons, Chabrier and Tavan, and secretly nursed by women of the neighbourhood. Of the five legions into which the Camisards were divided, it was the oldest and the most obscure that had its magazines by Cassagnas. This was the band of Spirit Séguier; men who had joined their voices with his in the 68th Psalm as they marched down by night on the archpriest of the Cévennes. Séguier, promoted to heaven, was succeeded by Salomon Couderc, whom Cavalier treats in his memoirs as chaplain-general to the whole army of the Camisards. He was a prophet; a great reader of the heart, who admitted people to the sacrament or refused them by "intentively viewing every man" between the eyes; and had the most of the Scriptures off by rote. And this was surely happy; since in a surprise in August, 1703, he lost his mule, his portfolios, and his Bible. It is only strange that they were not surprised more often and more effectually; for this legion of Cassagnas was truly patriarchal in its theory of war, and camped without sentries, leaving that duty to the angels


text:
Author:William Carey

Works

 * Flora indica v.3
 * A Grammar of the Mahratta Language. To which are Added Dialogues on Familiar Subjects
 * Dialogues, Intended to Facilitate the Acquiring of the Bengalee Language (1801)
 * Index:A Grammar of the Punjabi Language - William Carey.pdf

Works about Carey

 * William Carey - Obituary
 * The Life of William Carey (2015) by George Smith (Google Books)
 * The Legacy of William Carey: A Model for the Transformation of a Culture (1999) by Vishal Mangalwadi and Ruth Mangalwadi (Google Books)
 * The Legacy of William Carey: A Model for the Transformation of a Culture (1999) by Vishal Mangalwadi and Ruth Mangalwadi (Google Books)

title: Author:William Carey


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Rh of the God for whom they fought. This is a token, not only of their faith, but of the trackless country where they harboured. M. de Caladon, taking a stroll one fine day, walked without warning into their midst, as he might have walked into "a flock of sheep in a plain," and found some asleep and some awake and psalm-singing. A traitor had need of no recommendation to insinuate himself among their ranks, beyond "his faculty of singing psalms"; and even the prophet Salomon "took him into a particular friendship." Thus, among their intricate hills, the rustic troop subsisted; and history can attribute few exploits to them but sacraments and ecstasies.

People of this tough and simple stock will not, as I have just been saying, prove variable in religion; nor will they get nearer to apostasy than a mere external conformity like that of Naaman in the house of Rimmon. When Louis XVI, in the words of the edict, "convinced by the uselessness of a century of persecutions, and rather from necessity than sympathy," granted at last a royal grace of toleration, Cassagnas was still Protestant;


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176 and to a man, it is so to this day. There is, indeed, one family that is not Protestant, but neither is it Catholic. It is that of a Catholic curé in revolt, who has taken to his bosom a schoolmistress. And his conduct, it's worth noting, is disapproved by the Protestant villagers. "It is a bad idea for a man," said one, "to go back from his engagements." The villagers whom I saw seemed intelligent after a countrified fashion, and were all plain and dignified in manner. As a Protestant myself, I was well looked upon, and my acquaintance with history gained me farther respect. For we had something not unlike a religious controversy at table, a gendarme and a merchant with whom I dined being both strangers to the place and Catholics. The young men of the house stood round and supported me; and the whole discussion was tolerantly conducted, and surprised a man brought up among the infinitesimal and contentious differences of Scotland. The merchant, indeed, grew a little warm, and was far less pleased than some others with my historical


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Rh. But the gendarme was mighty easy over it all. "It's a bad idea for a man to change," said he; and the remark was generally applauded. That was not the opinion of the priest and soldier at our Lady of the Snows. But this is a different race; and perhaps the same great-heartedness that upheld them to resist, now enables them to differ in a kind spirit. For courage respects courage; but where a faith has been trodden out, we may look for a mean and narrow population. The true work of Bruce and Wallace was the union of the nations; not that they should stand apart awhile longer, skirmishing upon their borders; but that, when the time came, they might unite with self-respect. The merchant was much interested in my journey, and thought it dangerous to sleep afield.

"There are the wolves," said he; "and then it is known you are an Englishman. The English have always long purses, and it might very well enter into some one's head to deal you an ill blow some night."


text:
Author:August Wilhelm Schlegel

Works

 * A Course of Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, trans. by John Black (1833)

title: Author:August Wilhelm Schlegel


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178 I told him I was not much afraid of such accidents; and at any rate judged it unwise to dwell upon alarms or consider small perils in the arrangement of life. Life itself, I submitted, was a far too risky business as a whole to make each additional particular of danger worth regard. "Something," said I, "might burst in your inside any day of the week, and there would be an end of you, if you were locked into your room with three turns of the key."

"Cependant," said he, "coucher dehors!" "God," said I, "is everywhere."

"Cependant, coucher dehors!" he repeated, and his voice was eloquent of terror. He was the only person, in all my voyage, who saw anything hardy in so simple a proceeding; although many considered it superfluous. Only one, on the other hand, professed much delight in the idea; and that was my Plymouth Brother, who cried out, when I told him I sometimes preferred sleeping under the stars to a close and noisy alehouse, "Now I see that you know the Lord!"


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Rh The merchant asked me for one of my cards as I was leaving, for he said I should be something to talk of in the future, and desired me to make a note of his request and reason; a desire with which I have thus complied. A little after two I struck across the Mimente, and took a rugged path southward up a hillside covered with loose stones and tufts of heather. At the top, as is the habit of the country, the path disappeared; and I left my she-ass munching heather, and went forward alone to seek a road. I was now on the separation of two vast watersheds; behind me all the streams were bound for the Garonne and the Western Ocean; before me was the basin of the Rhone. Hence, as from the Lozère, you can see in clear weather the shining of the Gulf of Lyons; and perhaps from here the soldiers of Salomon may have watched for the topsails of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, and the long-promised aid from England. You may take this ridge as lying in the heart of the country of the Camisards; four of the five legions camped


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180 all round it and almost within view—Salomon and Joani to the north, Castanet and Roland to the south; and when Julien had finished his famous work, the devastation of the High Cévennes, which lasted all through October and November, 1703, and during which four hundred and sixty villages and hamlets were, with fire and pickaxe, utterly subverted, a man standing on this eminence would have looked forth upon a silent, smokeless, and dispeopled land. Time and man's activity have now repaired these ruins; Cassagnas is once more roofed and sending up domestic smoke; and in the chestnut gardens, in low and leafy corners, many a prosperous farmer returns, when the day's work is done, to his children and bright hearth. And still it was perhaps the wildest view of all my journey. Peak upon peak, chain upon chain of hills ran surging southward, channelled and sculptured by the winter streams, feathered from head to foot with chestnuts, and here and there breaking out into a coronal of cliffs. The sun, which was still far from setting, sent a drift of misty gold across the hill-tops, but


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Rh the valleys were already plunged in a profound and quiet shadow. A very old shepherd, hobbling on a pair of sticks, and wearing a black cap of liberty, as if in honour of his nearness to the grave, directed me to the road for St. Germain de Calberte. There was something solemn in the isolation of this infirm and ancient creature. Where he dwelt, how he got upon this high ridge, or how he proposed to get down again, were more than I could fancy. Not far off upon my right was the famous Plan de Font Morte, where Poul with his Armenian sabre slashed down the Camisards of Séguier. This, methought, might be some Rip van Winkle of the war, who had lost his comrades, fleeing before Poul, and wandered ever since upon the mountains. It might be news to him that Cavalier had surrendered, or Roland had fallen fighting with his back against an olive. And while I was thus working on my fancy, I heard him hailing in broken tones, and saw him waving me to come back with one of his two sticks. I had already got some way past him;


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182 but, leaving Modestine once more, retraced my steps. Alas, it was a very commonplace affair. The old gentleman had forgot to ask the pedlar what he sold, and wished to remedy this neglect.

I told him sternly, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" cried he. I repeated "Nothing," and made off. It's odd to think of, but perhaps I thus became as inexplicable to the old man as he had been to me.

The road lay under chestnuts, and though I saw a hamlet or two below me in the vale, and many lone houses of the chestnut farmers, it was a very solitary march all afternoon; and the evening began early underneath the trees. But I heard the voice of a woman singing some sad, old, endless ballad not far off. It seemed to be about love and a bel amoureux, her handsome sweetheart; and I wished I could have taken up the strain and answered her, as I went on upon my invisible woodland way, weaving, like Pippa in the poem, my own thoughts with hers. What could I have told her? Little enough; and yet all the heart


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Rh requires. How the world gives and takes away, and brings sweethearts near, only to separate them again, into distant and strange lands; but to love is the great amulet which makes the world a garden; and "hope, which comes to all," outwears the accidents of life, and reaches with tremulous hand beyond the grave and death. Easy to say: yea, but also, by God's mercy, both easy and grateful to believe!

We struck at last into a wide white highroad, carpeted with noiseless dust. The night had come; the moon had been shining for a long while upon the opposite mountain; when on turning a corner my donkey and I issued ourselves into her light. I had emptied out my brandy at Florac, for I could bear the stuff no longer, and replaced it with some generous and scented Volnay; and now I drank to the moon's sacred majesty upon the road. It was but a couple of mouthfuls; yet I became thenceforth unconscious of my limbs, and my blood flowed with luxury. Even Modestine was inspired by this purified nocturnal sunshine, and bestirred her little hoofs as to a livelier measure.


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184 The road wound and descended swiftly among masses of chestnuts. Hot dust rose from our feet and flowed away. Our two shadows—mine deformed with the knapsack, hers comically bestridden by the pack—now lay before us clearly outlined on the road, and now, as we turned a corner, went off into the ghostly distance, and sailed along the mountainlike clouds. From time to time a warm wind rustled down the valley, and set all the chestnuts dangling their bunches of foliage and fruit; the ear was filled with whispering music, and the shadows danced in tune. And next moment the breeze had gone by, and in all the valley nothing moved except our travelling feet. On the opposite slope, the monstrous ribs and gullies of the mountain were faintly designed in the moonshine; and high overhead, in some lone house, there burned one lighted window, one square spark of red in the huge field of sad nocturnal colouring. At a certain point, as I went downward, turning many acute angles, the moon disappeared behind the hill; and I pursued my way in great darkness,


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Rh until another turning shot me without preparation into St. Germain de Calberte. The place was asleep and silent, and buried in opaque night. Only from a single open door, some lamplight escaped upon the road to show me I was come among men's habitations. The two last gossips of the evening, still talking by a garden wall, directed me to the inn. The landlady was getting her chicks to bed; the fire was already out, and had, not without grumbling, to be rekindled; half an hour later, and I must have gone supperless to roost.


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HEN I awoke (Thursday, 3d October), and, hearing a great flourishing of cocks and chuckling of contented hens, betook me to the window of the clean and comfortable room where I had slept the night, I looked forth on a sunshiny morning in a deep vale of chestnut gardens. It was still early, and the cock-crows, and the slanting lights, and the long shadows encouraged me to be out and look round me. St. Germain de Calberte is a great parish nine leagues round about. At the period of the wars, and immediately before the devastation, it was inhabited by two hundred and seventy-five families, of which only nine were Catholic; and it took the curé seventeen September days to go from house to house on horseback for a census. But the place itself, although capital of a canton, is scarce larger than a hamlet. It lies terraced across a steep slope


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Rh in the midst of mighty chestnuts. The Protestant chapel stands below upon a shoulder; in the midst of the town is the quaint old Catholic church. It was here that poor Du Chayla, the Christian martyr, kept his library and held a court of missionaries; here he had built his tomb, thinking to lie among a grateful population whom he had redeemed from error; and hither on the morrow of his death they brought the body, pierced with two-and-fifty wounds, to be interred. Clad in his priestly robes, he was laid out in state in the church. The curé, taking his text from Second Samuel, twentieth chapter and twelfth verse, "And Amasa wallowed in his blood in the highway," preached a rousing sermon, and exhorted his brethren to die each at his post, like their unhappy and illustrious superior. In the midst of this eloquence there came a breeze that Spirit Séguier was near at hand; and behold! all the assembly took to their horses' heels, some east, some west, and the curé himself as far as Alais. Strange was the position of this little Catholic metropolis, a thimbleful of Rome, in such a wild


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188 and contrary neighbourhood. On the one hand, the legion of Salomon overlooked it from Cassagnas; on the other, it was cut off from assistance by the legion of Roland at Mialet. The curé, Louvrelenil, although he took a panic at the arch-priesfs funeral, and so hurriedly decamped to Alais, stood well by his isolated pulpit, and thence uttered fulminations against the crimes of the Protestants. Salomon besieged the village for an hour and a half, but was beat back. The militiamen, on guard before the curé's door, could be heard, in the black hours, singing Protestant psalms and holding friendly talk with the insurgents. And in the morning, although not a shot had been fired, there would not be a round of powder in their flasks. Where was it gone? All handed over to the Camisards for a consideration. Untrusty guardians for an isolated priest! That these continual stirs were once busy in St. Germain de Calberte, the imagination with difficulty receives; all is now so quiet, the pulse of human life now beats so low and still in this hamlet of the mountains. Boys followed me a great way


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Rh mountain air and water. All the time as I went on I never forgot it was the Sabbath; the stillness was a perpetual reminder; and I heard in spirit the church-bells clamouring all over Europe, and the psalms of a thousand churches. At length a human sound struck upon my ear—a cry strangely modulated between pathos and derision; and looking across the valley, I saw a little urchin sitting in a meadow, with his hands about his knees, and dwarfed to almost comical smallness by the distance. But the rogue had picked me out as I went down the road, from oak-wood on to oak-wood, driving Modestine; and he made me the compliments of the new country in this tremulous high-pitched salutation. And as all noises are lovely and natural at a sufficient distance, this also, coming through so much clean hill air and crossing all the green valley, sounded pleasant to my ear, and seemed a thing rustic, like the oaks or the river. A little after, the stream that I was following fell into the Tarn, at Pont de Montvert of bloody memory.


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NE of the first things I encountered in Pont de Montvert was, if I remember rightly, the Protestant temple; but this was but the type of other novelties. A subtle atmosphere distinguishes a town in England from a town in France, or even in Scotland. At Carlisle you can see you are in one country; at Dumfries, thirty miles away, you are as sure that you are in the other. I should find it difficult to tell in what particulars Pont de Montvert differed from Monastier or Langogne, or even Bleymard; but the difference existed, and spoke eloquently to the eyes. The place, with its houses, its lanes, its glaring river-bed, wore an indescribable air of the South. All was Sunday bustle in the streets and in the public-house, as all had been Sabbath peace among the mountains. There must have been near a score of us at dinner by eleven before noon; and


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Rh after I had eaten and drunken, and sat writing up my journal, I suppose as many more came dropping in one after another, or by twos and threes. In crossing the Lozère I had not only come among new natural features, but moved into the territory of a different race. These people, as they hurriedly despatched their viands in an intricate sword-play of knives, questioned and answered me with a degree of intelligence which excelled all that I had met, except among the railway folk at Chasseradès. They had open telling faces, and were lively both in speech and manner. They not only entered thoroughly into the spirit of my little trip, but more than one declared, if he were rich enough, he would like to set forth on such another. Even physically there was a pleasant change. I had not seen a pretty woman since I left Monastier, and there but one. Now of the three who sat down with me to dinner, one was certainly not beautiful—a poor timid thing of forty, quite troubled at this roaring table d'hôte, whom I squired and helped to wine, and pledged and tried


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134 generally to encourage, with quite a contrary effect; but the other two, both married, were both more handsome than the average of women. And Clarisse? What shall I say of Clarisse? She waited the table with a heavy placable nonchalance, like a performing cow; her great grey eyes were steeped in amorous languor; her features, although fleshy, were of an original and accurate design; her mouth had a curl; her nostril spoke of dainty pride; her cheek fell into strange and interesting lines. It was a face capable of strong emotion, and, with training, it offered the promise of delicate sentiment. It seemed pitiful to see so good a model left to country admirers and a country way of thought. Beauty should at least have touched society, then, in a moment, it throws off a weight that lay upon it, it becomes conscious of itself, it puts on an elegance, learns a gait and a carriage of the head, and, in a moment, patet dea. Before I left I assured Clarisse of my hearty admiration. She took it like milk, without embarrassment or wonder, merely looking at me steadily with her great eyes; and I own the


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Rh upon myself was some confusion. If Clarisse could read English, I should not dare to add that her figure was unworthy of her face. Hers was a case for stays; but that may perhaps grow better as she gets up in years.

Pont de Montvert, or Greenhill Bridge, as we might say at home, is a place memorable in the story of the Camisards. It was here that the war broke out; here that those southern Covenanters slew their Archbishop Sharpe. The persecution on the one hand, the febrile enthusiasm on the other, are almost equally difficult to understand in these quiet modern days, and with our easy modern beliefs and disbeliefs. The Protestants were one and all beside their right minds with zeal and sorrow. They were all prophets and prophetesses. Children at the breast would exhort their parents to good works. "A child of fifteen months at Quissac spoke from its mother's arms, agitated and sobbing, distinctly and with a loud voice." Marshal Villars has seen a town where all the women "seemed possessed by the devil," and had trembling fits, and uttered prophecies


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136 upon the streets. A prophetess of Vivarais was hanged at Montpellier because blood flowed from her eyes and nose, and she declared that she was weeping tears of blood for the misfortunes of the Protestants. And it was not only women and children. Stalwart dangerous fellows, used to swing the sickle or to wield the forest axe, were likewise shaken with strange paroxysms, and spoke oracles with sobs and streaming tears. A persecution unsurpassed in violence had lasted near a score of years, and this was the result upon the persecuted; hanging, burning, breaking on the wheel, had been vain; the dragoons had left their hoof-marks over all the country-side; there were men rowing in the galleys, and women pining in the prisons of the Church; and not a thought was changed in the heart of any upright Protestant. Now the head and forefront of the persecution—after Lamoignon de Bavile—François de Langlade du Chayla (pronounced Chéïla), Arch-priest of the Cévennes and Inspector of Missions in the same country, had a house in which he sometimes dwelt in the town of Pont de Montvert.


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Rh He was a conscientious person, who seems to have been intended by nature for a pirate, and now fifty-five, an age by which a man has learned all the moderation of which he is capable. A missionary in his youth in China, he there suffered martyrdom, was left for dead, and only succoured and brought back to life by the charity of a pariah. We must suppose the pariah devoid of second sight, and not purposely malicious in this act. Such an experience, it might be thought, would have cured a man of the desire to persecute; but the human spirit is a thing strangely put together; and, having been a Christian martyr, Du Chayla became a Christian persecutor. The Work of the Propagation of the Faith went roundly forward in his hands. His house in Pont de Montvert served him as a prison. There he plucked out the hairs of the beard, and closed the hands of his prisoners upon live coals, to convince them that they were deceived in their opinions. And yet had not he himself tried and proved the inefficacy of these carnal arguments among the Buddhists in China?

Not only was life made intolerable in


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138, but flight was rigidly forbidden. One Massip, a muleteer, and well acquainted with the mountain-paths, had already guided several troops of fugitives in safety to Geneva; and on him, with another convoy, consisting mostly of women dressed as men, Du Chayla, in an evil hour for himself, laid his hands. The Sunday following, there was a conventicle of Protestants in the woods of Altefage upon Mont Bougés; where there stood up one Séguier—Spirit Séguier, as his companions called him—a wool-carder, tall, black-faced, and toothless, but a man full of prophecy. He declared, in the name of God, that the time for submission had gone by, and they must betake themselves to arms for the deliverance of their brethren and the destruction of the priests.

The next night, 24th July, 1702, a sound disturbed the Inspector of Missions as he sat in his prison-house at Pont de Montvert; the voices of many men upraised in psalmody drew nearer and nearer through the town. It was ten at night; he had his court about him, priests, soldiers, and servants, to the number of twelve or fifteen; and now


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HE wind fell during dinner, and the sky remained clear; so it was under better auspices that I loaded Modestine before the monastery-gate. My Irish friend accompanied me so far on the way. As we came through the wood, there was Père Apollinaire hauling his barrow; and he too quitted his labours to go with me for perhaps a hundred yards, holding my hand between both of his in front of him. I parted first from one and then from the other with unfeigned regret, but yet with the glee of the traveller who shakes off the dust of one stage before hurrying forth upon another. Then Modestine and I mounted the course of the Allier, which here led us back into Gévaudan towards its sources in the forest of Mercoire. It was but an


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title: User:Wangen


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106 burn before we left its guidance. Thence, over a hill, our way lay through a naked plateau, until we reached Chasseradès at sundown. The company in the inn-kitchen that night were all men employed in survey for one of the projected railways. They were intelligent and conversable, and we decided the future of France over hot wine, until the state of the clock frightened us to rest. There were four beds in the little up-stairs room; and we slept six. But I had a bed to myself, and persuaded them to leave the window open. "Hé, bourgeois; il est cinq heures!" was the cry that wakened me in the morning (Saturday, September 28th). The room was full of a transparent darkness, which dimly showed me the other three beds and the five different nightcaps on the pillows. But out of the window the dawn was growing ruddy in a long belt over the hill-tops, and day was about to flood the plateau. The hour was inspiriting; and there seemed a promise of calm weather, which was perfectly fulfilled. I was soon under way with Modestine. The road lay


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Rh for awhile over the plateau, and then descended through a precipitous village into the valley of the Chassezac. This stream ran among green meadows, well hidden from the world by its steep banks; the broom was in flower, and here and there was a hamlet sending up its smoke. At last the path crossed the Chassezac upon a bridge, and, forsaking this deep hollow, set itself to cross the mountain of La Goulet. It wound up through Lestampes by upland fields and woods of beech and birch, and with every corner brought me into an acquaintance with some new interest. Even in the gully of the Chassezac my ear had been struck by a noise like that of a great bass bell ringing at the distance of many miles; but this, as I continued to mount and draw nearer to it, seemed to change in character, and I found at length that it came from some one leading flocks afield to the note of a rural horn. The narrow street of Lestampes stood full of sheep, from wall to wall—black sheep and white, bleating like the birds in spring, and each one accompanying himself upon the sheep-bell round his


text:
Author:Henry Hamilton Fyfe

Works

 * South Africa To-day: With an Account of Modern Rhodesia (1911)
 * The New Spirit in Egypt (1911)
 * The Real Mexico: A Study on the Spot (1914)

title: Author:Henry Hamilton Fyfe


text:
Wikisource:Books/The Pickwick Papers

The Pickwick Papers

 * Chapter 1
 * Chapter 2
 * Chapter 3
 * Chapter 4
 * Chapter 5
 * Chapter 6
 * Chapter 7
 * Chapter 8
 * Chapter 9
 * Chapter 10
 * Chapter 11
 * Chapter 12
 * Chapter 13
 * Chapter 14
 * Chapter 15
 * Chapter 16
 * Chapter 17
 * Chapter 18
 * Chapter 19
 * Chapter 20
 * Chapter 21
 * Chapter 22
 * Chapter 23
 * Chapter 24
 * Chapter 25
 * Chapter 26
 * Chapter 27
 * Chapter 28
 * Chapter 29
 * Chapter 30
 * Chapter 31
 * Chapter 32
 * Chapter 33
 * Chapter 34
 * Chapter 35
 * Chapter 36
 * Chapter 37
 * Chapter 38
 * Chapter 39
 * Chapter 40
 * Chapter 41
 * Chapter 42
 * Chapter 43
 * Chapter 44
 * Chapter 45
 * Chapter 46
 * Chapter 47
 * Chapter 48
 * Chapter 49
 * Chapter 50
 * Chapter 51
 * Chapter 52
 * Chapter 53
 * Chapter 54
 * Chapter 55
 * Chapter 56
 * Chapter 57

title: Wikisource:Books/The Pickwick Papers


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130. I passed cabin after cabin, but all seemed deserted; and I saw not a human creature, nor heard any sound except that of the stream. I was, however, in a different country from the day before. The stony skeleton of the world was here vigorously displayed to sun and air. The slopes were steep and changeful. Oak-trees clung along the hills, well grown, wealthy in leaf, and touched by the autumn with strong and luminous colours. Here and there another stream would fall in from the right or the left, down a gorge of snow-white and tumultuary boulders. The river in the bottom (for it was rapidly growing a river, collecting on all hands as it trotted on its way) here foamed awhile in desperate rapids, and there lay in pools of the most enchanting sea-green shot with watery browns. As far as I have gone, I have never seen a river of so changeful and delicate a hue; crystal was no more clear, the meadows were not by half so green; and at every pool I saw I felt a thrill of longing to be out of these hot, dusty, and material garments, and bathe my naked body in the


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108 neck. It made a pathetic concert, all in treble. A little higher, and I passed a pair of men in a tree with pruning-hooks, and one of them was singing the music of a bourrée. Still further, and when I was already threading the birches, the crowing of cocks came cheerfully up to my ears, and along with that the voice of a flute discoursing a deliberate and plaintive air from one of the upland villages. I pictured to myself some grizzled, apple-cheeked, country schoolmaster fluting in his bit of a garden in the clear autumn sunshine. All these beautiful and interesting sounds filled my heart with an unwonted expectation; and it appeared to me that, once past this range which I was mounting, I should descend into the garden of the world. Nor was I deceived, for I was now done with rains and winds and a bleak country. The first part of my journey ended here; and this was like an induction of sweet sounds into the other and more beautiful.

There are other degrees of feyness, as of punishment, besides the capital; and I was now led by my good spirits into an adventure which I relate


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Rh in the interest of future donkey-drivers. The road zigzagged so widely on the hillside that I chose a short cut by map and compass, and struck through the dwarf woods to catch the road again upon a higher level. It was my one serious conflict with Modestine. She would none of my short cut; she turned in my face, she backed, she reared; she, whom I had hitherto imagined to be dumb, actually brayed with a loud hoarse flourish, like a cock crowing for the dawn. I plied the goad with one hand; with the other, so steep was the ascent, I had to hold on the pack-saddle. Half-a-dozen times she was nearly over backwards on the top of me; half-a-dozen times, from sheer weariness of spirit, I was nearly giving it up, and leading her down again to follow the road. But I took the thing as a wager, and fought it through. I was surprised, as I went on my way again, by what appeared to be chill rain-drops falling on my hand, and more than once looked up in wonder at the cloudless sky. But it was only sweat which came dropping from my brow.

Over the summit of the Goulet there was no


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110 marked road—only upright stones posted from space to space to guide the drovers. The turf underfoot was springy and well scented. I had no company but a lark or two, and met but one bullock-cart between Lestampes and Bleymard. In front of me I saw a shallow valley, and beyond that the range of the Lozère, sparsely wooded and well enough modelled in the flanks, but straight and dull in outline. There was scarce a sign of culture; only about Bleymard, the white highroad from Villefort to Mende traversed a range of meadows, set with spiry poplars, and sounding from side to side with the bells of flocks and herds.


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ROM Bleymard after dinner, although it was already late, I set out to scale a portion of the Lozère. An ill-marked stony drove-road guided me forward; and I met nearly half-a-dozen bullock-carts descending from the woods, each laden, with a whole pine-tree for the winter's firing. At the top of the woods, which do not climb very high upon this cold ridge, I struck leftward by a path among the pines, until I hit on a dell of green turf, where a streamlet made a little spout over some stones to serve me for a water-tap. "In a more sacred or sequestered bower—nor nymph nor faunus haunted." The trees were not old, but they grew thickly round the glade: there was no outlook, except north-eastward upon distant hill-tops, or straight upward to the sky; and the encampment felt secure and private like a room. By the time I had made my


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112 arrangements and fed Modestine, the day was already beginning to decline. I buckled myself to the knees into my sack and made a hearty meal; and as soon as the sun went down, I pulled my cap over my eyes and fell asleep. Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes her rest she turns and smiles; and there is one stirring hour unknown to those who dwell in houses, when a wakeful influence goes abroad over the sleeping hemisphere, and all the outdoor world are on their feet. It is then that the cock first crows, not this time to announce the dawn, but like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of night. Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the


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Rh ferns; and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night.

At what inaudible summons, at what gentle touch of Nature, are all these sleepers thus recalled in the same hour to life? Do the stars rain down an influence, or do we share some thrill of mother earth below our resting bodies? Even shepherds and old countryfolk, who are the deepest read in these arcana, have not a guess as to the means or purpose of this nightly resurrection. Towards two in the morning they declare the thing takes place; and neither know nor inquire further. And at least it is a pleasant incident. We are disturbed in our slumber only, like the luxurious Montaigne, "that we may the better and more sensibly relish it." We have a moment to look upon the stars, and there is a special pleasure for some minds in the reflection that we share the impulse with all outdoor creatures in our neighbourhood, that we have escaped out of the Bastille of civilisation, and are become, for the time being, a mere kindly animal and a sheep of Nature's flock.


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114 When that hour came to me among the pines, I wakened thirsty. My tin was standing by me half full of water. I emptied it at a draught; and feeling broad awake after this internal cold aspersion, sat upright to make a cigarette. The stars were clear, coloured, and jewel-like, but not frosty. A faint silvery vapour stood for the Milky Way. All around me the black fir-points stood upright and stock-still. By the whiteness of the pack-saddle, I could see Modestine walking round and round at the length of her tether; I could hear her steadily munching at the sward; but there was not another sound, save the indescribable quiet talk of the runnel over the stones. I lay lazily smoking and studying the colour of the sky, as we call the void of space, from where it showed a reddish grey behind the pines to where it showed a glossy blue-black between the stars. As if to be more like a pedlar, I wear a silver ring. This I could see faintly shining as I raised or lowered the cigarette; and at each whiff the inside of my hand was illuminated, and became for a second the highest light in the landscape.


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Rh A faint wind, more like a moving coolness than a stream of air, passed down the glade from time to time; so that even in my great chamber the air was being renewed all night long. I thought with horror of the inn at Chasseradès and the congregated nightcaps; with horror of the nocturnal prowesses of clerks and students, of hot theatres and pass-keys and close rooms, I have not often enjoyed a more serene possession of myself, nor felt more independent of material aids. The outer world, from which we cower into our houses, seemed after all a gentle habitable place; and night after night a man's bed, it seemed, was laid and waiting for him in the fields, where God keeps an open house. I thought I had re-discovered one of those truths which are revealed to savages and hid from political economists: at the least, I had discovered a new pleasure for myself. And yet even while I was exulting in my solitude I became aware of a strange lack. I wished a companion to lie near me in the starlight, silent and not moving, but ever within touch. For there is a fellowship more quiet even than solitude, and which,


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116 rightly understood, is solitude made perfect. And to live out of doors with the woman a man loves is of all lives the most complete and free. As I thus lay, between content and longing, a faint noise stole towards me through the pines. I thought, at first, it was the crowing of cocks or the barking of dogs at some very distant farm; but steadily and gradually it took articulate shape in my ears, until I became aware that a passenger was going by upon the highroad in the valley, and singing loudly as he went. There was more of good-will than grace in his performance; but he trolled with ample lungs; and the sound of his voice took hold upon the hillside and set the air shaking in the leafy glens. I have heard people passing by night in sleeping cities; some of them sang; one, I remember, played loudly on the bagpipes. I have heard the rattle of a cart or carriage spring up suddenly after hours of stillness, and pass, for some minutes, within the range of my hearing as I lay abed. There is a romance about all who are abroad in the black hours, and with something of a thrill we try to guess their business.


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Rh But here the romance was double: first, this glad passenger, lit internally with wine, who sent up his voice in music through the night; and then I, on the other hand, buckled into my sack, and smoking alone in the pine-woods between four and five thousand feet towards the stars.

When I awoke again (Sunday, 29th September), many of the stars had disappeared; only the stronger companions of the night still burned visibly overhead; and away towards the east I saw a faint haze of light upon the horizon, such as had been the Milky Way when I was last awake. Day was at hand. I lit my lantern, and by its glowworm light put on my boots and gaiters; then I broke up some bread for Modestine, filled my can at the water-tap, and lit my spirit-lamp to boil myself some chocolate. The blue darkness lay long in the glade where I had so sweetly slumbered; but soon there was a broad streak of orange melting into gold along the mountain-tops of Vivarais. A solemn glee possessed my mind at this gradual and lovely coming in of day. I heard the runnel with delight; I looked round me for


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118 something beautiful and unexpected; but the black pine-trees, the hollow glade, the munching ass, remained unchanged in figure. Nothing had altered but the light, and that, indeed, shed over all a spirit of life and of breathing peace, and moved me to a strange exhilaration. I drank my water chocolate, which was hot if it was not rich, and strolled here and there, and up and down about the glade. While I was thus delaying, a gush of steady wind, as long as a heavy sigh, poured direct out of the quarter of the morning. It was cold, and set me sneezing. The trees near at hand tossed their black plumes in its passage; and I could see the thin distant spires of pine along the edge of the hill rock slightly to and fro against the golden east. Ten minutes after, the sunlight spread at a gallop along the hillside, scattering shadows and sparkles, and the day had come completely. I hastened to prepare my pack, and tackle the steep ascent that lay before me; but I had something on my mind. It was only a fancy; yet a fancy will sometimes be importunate. I had been


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Rh most hospitably received and punctually served in my green caravanserai. The room was airy, the water excellent, and the dawn had called me to a moment. I say nothing of the tapestries or the inimitable ceiling, nor yet of the view which I commanded from the windows; but I felt I was in some one's debt for all this liberal entertainment. And so it pleased me, in a half-laughing way, to leave pieces of money on the turf as I went along, until I had left enough for my night's lodging. I trust they did not fall to some rich and churlish drover.


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Rh dreading the insolence of a conventicle below his very windows, he ordered forth his soldiers to report. But the psalm-singers were already at his door, fifty strong, led by the inspired Séguier, and breathing death. To their summons, the arch-priest made answer like a stout old persecutor, and bade his garrison fire upon the mob. One Camisard (for, according to some, it was in this night's work that they came by the name) fell at this discharge; his comrades burst in the door with hatchets and a beam of wood, overran the lower story of the house, set free the prisoners, and finding one of them in the vine, a sort of Scavenger's Daughter of the place and period, redoubled in fury against Du Chayla, and sought by repeated assaults to carry the upper floors. But he, on his side, had given absolution to his men, and they bravely held the staircase. "Children of God," cried the prophet, "hold your hands. Let us burn the house, with the priest and the satellites of Baal." The fire caught readily. Out of an upper window Du Chayla and his men lowered themselves