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70 "Well, Captain Smollett, what have you to say? All well, I hope; all shipshape and seaworthy?"

"Well, sir," said the captain, "better speak plain, I believe, even at the risk of offence. I don't like this cruise; I don't like the men; and I don't like my officer. That's short and sweet."

"Perhaps, sir, you don't like the ship?" inquired the squire, very angry, as I could see.

"I can't speak as to that, sir, not having seen her tried," said the captain. "She seems a clever craft; more I can't say."

"Possibly, sir, you may not like your employer, either?" says the squire.

But here Dr. Livesey cut in.

"Stay a bit," said he, "stay a bit. No use of such questions as that but to produce ill feeling. The captain has said too much or he has said too little, and I'm bound to say that I require an explanation of his words. You don't, you say, like this cruise. Now, why?"

"I was engaged, sir, on what we call sealed orders, to sail this ship for that gentleman where he should bid me," said the captain. "So far so good. But now I find that every man before the mast knows more than I do. I don't call that fair, now, do you?"

"No," said Dr. Livesey, "I don't."

"Next," said the captain, "I learn we are going after treasure—hear it from my own hands, mind you. Now, treasure is ticklish work; I don't like treasure voyages on any account; and I don't like them, above


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Rh all, when they are secret and when (begging your pardon, Mr. Trelawney) the secret has been told to the parrot."

"Silver's parrot?" asked the squire.

"It's a way of speaking," said the captain. "Blabbed, I mean. It's my belief neither of you gentlemen know what you are about; but I'll tell you my way of it—life or death, and a close run."

"That is all clear, and, I daresay, true enough," replied Dr. Livesey. "We take the risk, but we are not so ignorant as you believe us. Next, you say you don't like the crew. Are they not good seamen?"

"I don't like them, sir," returned Captain Smollett. "And I think I should have had the choosing of my own hands, if you go to that."

"Perhaps you should," replied the doctor. "My friend should, perhaps, have taken you along with him; but the slight, if there be one, was unintentional. And you don't like Mr. Arrow?"

"I don't, sir. I believe he's a good seaman, but he's too free with the crew to be a good officer. A mate should keep himself to himself—shouldn't drink with the men before the mast!"

"Do you mean he drinks?" cried the squire.

"No, sir," replied the captain, "only that he's too familiar."

"Well, now, and the short and long of it, captain?" asked the doctor. "Tell us what you want."

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72 "Well, gentlemen, are you determined to go on this cruise?"

"Like iron," answered the squire.

"Very good," said the captain. "Then, as you've heard me very patiently, saying things that I could not prove, hear me a few words more. They are putting the powder and the arms in the fore hold. Now, you have a good place under the cabin; why not put them there?—first point. Then, you are bringing four of your own people with you, and they tell me some of them are to be berthed forward. Why not give them the berths here beside the cabin?—second point."

"Any more?" asked Mr. Trelawney.

"One more," said the captain. "There's been too much blabbing already."

"Far too much," agreed the doctor.

"I'll tell you what I've heard myself," continued Captain Smollett: "that you have a map of an island, that there's crosses on the map to show where treasure is, and that the island lies——" And then he named the latitude and longitude exactly.

"I never told that," cried the squire, "to a soul!"

"The hands know it, sir," returned the captain.

"Livesey, that must have been you or Hawkins," cried the squire.

"It doesn't much matter who it was," replied the doctor. And I could see that neither he nor the captain paid much regard to Mr. Trelawney's protestations. Neither did I, to be sure, he was so loose a talker; yet


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Rh in this case I believe he was really right and that nobody had told the situation of the island.

"Well, gentlemen," continued the captain, "I don't know who has this map; but I make it a point, it shall be kept secret even from me and Mr. Arrow. Otherwise I would ask you to let me resign."

"I see," said the doctor. "You wish us to keep this matter dark and to make a garrison of the stern part of the ship, manned with my friend's own people, and provided with all the arms and powder on board. In other words, you fear a mutiny."

"Sir," said Captain Smollett, "with no intention to take offence, I deny your right to put words into my mouth. No captain, sir, would be justified in going to sea at all if he had ground enough to say that. As for Mr. Arrow, I believe him thoroughly honest; some of the men are the same; all may be for what I know. But I am responsible for the ship's safety and the life of every man Jack aboard of her. I see things going, as I think, not quite right. And I ask you to take certain precautions or let me resign my berth. And that's all."

"Captain Smollett," began the doctor with a smile, "did ever you hear the fable of the mountain and the mouse? You'll excuse me, I dare say, but you remind me of that fable. When you came in here, I'll stake my wig, you meant more than this."

"Doctor," said the captain, "you are smart. When I came in here I meant to get discharged.


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74 I had no thought that Mr. Trelawney would hear a word."

"No more I would," cried the squire. "Had Livesey not been here I should have seen you to the deuce. As it is, I have heard you. I will do as you desire; but I think the worse of you."

"That's as you please, sir," said the captain. "You'll find I do my duty."

And with that he took his leave.

"Trelawney," said the doctor, "contrary to all my notions, I believed you have managed to get two honest men on board with you—that man and John Silver."

"Silver, if you like," cried the squire; "but as for that intolerable humbug, I declare I think his conduct unmanly, unsailorly, and downright un-English."

"Well," says the doctor, "we shall see."

When we came on deck, the men had begun already to take out the arms and powder, yo-ho-ing at their work, while the captain and Mr. Arrow stood by superintending.

The new arrangement was quite to my liking. The whole schooner had been overhauled; six berths had been made astern out of what had been the after-part of the main hold; and this set of cabins was only joined to the galley and forecastle by a sparred passage on the port side. It had been originally meant that the captain, Mr. Arrow, Hunter, Joyce, the doctor, and the squire were to occupy these six berths. Now,


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Rh Redruth and I were to get two of them, and Mr. Arrow and the captain were to sleep on deck in the companion, which had been enlarged on each side till you might almost have called it a round-house. Very low it was still, of course; but there was room to swing two hammocks, and even the mate seemed pleased with the arrangement. Even he, perhaps, had been doubtful as to the crew, but that is only guess, for as you shall hear, we had not long the benefit of his opinion.

We were all hard at work, changing the powder and the berths, when the last man or two, and Long John along with them, came off in a shore-boat.

The cook came up the side like a monkey for cleverness, and as soon as he saw what was doing, "So ho, mates!" says he. "What's this?"

"We're a-changing of the powder, Jack," answers one.

"Why, by the powers," cried Long John, "if we do, we'll miss the morning tide!"

"My orders!" said the captain shortly. "You may go below, my man. Hands will want supper."

"Aye, aye, sir," answered the cook; and touching his forelock, he disappeared at once in the direction of his galley.

"That's a good man, captain," said the doctor.

"Very likely, sir," replied Captain Smollett. "Easy with that, men—easy," he ran on, to the fellows who were shifting the powder; and then suddenly observing me examining the swivel we carried amidships, a long


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76 brass nine—"Here, you ship's boy," he cried, "out o' that! Off with you to the cook and get some work."

And then as I was hurrying off I heard him say, quite loudly, to the doctor:—

"I'll have no favourites on my ship."

I assure you I was quite of the squire's way of thinking, and hated the captain deeply.


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Author:Charles William Chadwick Oman

Works

 * The Art of War in the Middle Ages (1885)
 * Warwick the Kingmaker (1891)
 * The Story of the Byzantine Empire (1892)
 * The Byzantine Empire 1895 Reprint,
 * The Byzantine Empire 1908 Reprint,
 * The Dark Ages 476–918 (1893)
 * The Dark Ages 476–918 (2nd Edition) (1894)
 * The Dark Ages 476–918 (3rd Edition) (1898)
 * A History of the Art of War in the Middle Ages (1898)
 * A History of the Art of War in the Middle Ages (1905), Reprint
 * A History of the Art of War in the Middle Ages, 2nd Edition, in 2 Volumes, 1924
 * England and the Hundred Years' War (1898)
 * "Introduction" to A Bibliography of English Military Books, by Maurice James Draffen Cockle (1900)
 * The Great Revolt of 1381 (1906)
 * Inaugural Lecture on The Study of History (1906)
 * (Parts I, II, III, IV, V and VI)

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 Rh 2.

To George Cumberland.

Lambeth, 6th December 1795.

,—I congratulate you, not on any achievement, because I know that the genius that produces the designs can execute them in any manner, notwithstanding the pretended philosophy which teaches that execution is the power of one and invention of another. Locke says it is the same faculty that invents judges, and I say he who can invent can execute.


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 54 As to laying on the wax, it is as follows:

Take a cake of virgin wax (I don't know what animal produces it), and stroke it regularly over the surface of a warm plate (the plate must be warm enough to melt the wax as it passes over), then immediately draw a feather over it, and you will get an even surface which, when cold, will receive any impression minutely.

.—The danger is in not covering the plate all over. Now you will, I hope, show all the family of antique borers, that peace and plenty and domestic happiness is the source of sublime art, and prove to the abstract philosophers that enjoyment and not abstinence is the food of intellect.—Yours sincerely,.

Health to Mrs. Cumberland and family.

The pressure necessary to roll off the lines is the same as when you print, or not quite so great. I have not been able to send a proof of the bath, though I have done the corrections, my paper not being in order.


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 were his constant companions; but otherwise he read little. He never mastered German, hardly even French. For historic antiquity and—to judge by the contempt with which he always regarded Wordsworth—for the beauty of nature he had no feeling whatever. He was without ear for music, and was almost equally dead to painting, sculpture, and architecture. Hence in travel he found no interest to compensate for the fatigue and annoyances incident to it; and, except for some other reason than his own pleasure, he never crossed the English Channel.

Whately contributed to the ‘Quarterly Review’ articles on ‘Emigration to Canada’ and ‘Modern Novels’ (July 1820 and January 1821), which were reprinted towards the close of his life in his ‘Miscellaneous Lectures and Reviews’ (infra). His first essay in independent authorship was ‘Historic Doubts relative to Napoleon Buonaparte,’ London, 1819, 8vo, in which he attempted to hoist Hume with his own petard by showing that on his principles the existence of Napoleon could not be admitted ‘as a well-authenticated fact’ (see, Logic, bk. i. § 3, where the pamphlet, which was published anonymously, is acknowledged). This brilliant ignoratio elenchi—Hume (On Miracles, pt. i. ad fin.) made express reservation of cases in which greater improbabilities would be involved in scepticism than in belief—passed through more than twelve editions in its author's lifetime, and has since been reprinted (see Famous Pamphlets, ed. Henry Morley, Univ. Libr. vol. xliii., London, 1886, 8vo). By way of antidote to Calvinism, Whately issued in 1821 ‘The Right Method of interpreting Scripture in what relates to the Nature of the Deity and His Dealings with Mankind, illustrated in a Discourse on Predestination by Dr. King, Lord Archbishop of Dublin,’ a reprint of King's ‘Discourse’ with introduction and appendices based on Tucker's ‘Light of Nature’ (c. 26) [see ]. He married in the same year, and in consequence accepted the living of Halesworth, Suffolk, to which he was instituted on 18 Feb. 1822. The duties of parish priest he discharged with a conscientiousness then unusual, but they were not so onerous as to leave him without abundant leisure. He was already occasional preacher to the university, and in 1822 he delivered the Bampton lectures, in which he attempted to define the via media between indifference and intolerance. They were published the same year under the title ‘The Use and Abuse of Party Feeling in Matters of Religion’ (Oxford, 8vo), and followed by ‘Five Sermons on several Occasions preached before the University of Oxford’ (Oxford, 1823, 8vo), with which, and with the ‘Discourse on Predestination,’ they were reprinted in 1859 (London, 8vo).

In 1825 Whately returned to Oxford as principal of St. Alban Hall. He found the hall the Botany Bay of the university, but with the help of [q. v.] and, each of whom in turn served under him as vice-principal, he gradually transformed it into a resort of reading men.

Learning was then at a low ebb in Oxford, where outside the precincts of Oriel there was little stir of intellectual life. Aristotle was more venerated than read, and Aldrich was still the text-book on logic. This reproach Whately did much to remove. To the ‘Encyclopædia Metropolitana’ he contributed articles on ‘Logic’ and ‘Rhetoric’ which appeared in separate form, the one in 1826, the other in 1828 (London, 8vo). Neither work was of the kind which lays posterity under permanent obligation; but the logic unquestionably marks, if it did not make, a new epoch in the history of the science. It displays in a striking manner Whately's characteristic merits and shortcomings. The style is perspicuous, the arrangement and exposition are masterly. The analysis and classification of fallacies have perhaps never been surpassed. On the other hand, the historical part of the treatise is so meagre as to be practically worthless. Plato is ignored, and the schoolmen are set down indiscriminately as mere logomachists. The treatment of the categories and of realism is perfunctory. The Dictum de omni et nullo is pronounced the universal principle, and the syllogism the universal form of reasoning; and the obvious corollary, that deduction is merely explicative and induction extra-logical, is frankly drawn. The effect of the work was twofold: with certain thinkers it served to rehabilitate the discredited formal logic; to others it suggested the deeper questions as to the nature of the scientific method which it so airily dismissed from its purview, and of the illative process in general, to the solution of which John Stuart Mill addressed himself. The ‘Logic’ reached a ninth edition in 1850. The ‘Rhetoric,’ which owed much to, is a sound and serviceable treatise on the art of presenting argument in the form best adapted for legitimate effect. It had not the vogue of the ‘Logic,’ but reached a seventh edition in 1846.

In the Oxford of his day Whately's was


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 a name to mention with bated breath. He was known to be ‘noetic,’ anti-evangelical, and anti-Erastian. He was accordingly credited with the authorship of the anonymous ‘Letters on the Church by an Episcopalian’ (London, 1826, 8vo), which, by the vigour of their argument for the autonomy of the church, caused no small stir in clerical circles. Through Newman, whom they profoundly influenced, the ‘Letters’ contributed to the initiation of the tractarian movement. By Whately they were neither acknowledged nor disavowed; but neither were they claimed by any one else. The style is undoubtedly Whatelian; but the high view of apostolical succession which they embody is countenanced in none, and expressly repudiated in one, of Whately's mature works. On the whole it is most probable that they were written by Whately, but written without an exact appreciation of the ultimate consequences of their principles. In that respect the intimacy which he was even then forming with Joseph Blanco White [q. v.], a Spaniard, who had abjured catholicism, was probably educative. Whately's anti-Erastian principles doubtless dictated the support which, at the cost of much misconstruction, he gave to catholic emancipation, and may perhaps account for the high tone adopted in some of the articles in the ‘British Critic,’ then under his influence; but his polemical treatise, ‘The Errors of Romanism traced to their Origin in Human Nature,’ which appeared in 1830, with a dedication acknowledging obligations to Blanco White (London, 8vo), shows that by that time, at any rate, he was under no illusions as to the tendency of catholic principles, and already apprehensive of their revival within the established church. The book reached a fifth edition in 1856. An abridgment, entitled ‘Romanism the Religion of Human Nature,’ was edited by Whately's daughter, E. J. Whately, in 1878 (London, 8vo).

Whately succeeded Senior in 1829 as Drummond professor of political economy, but resigned the chair in 1831 on his advancement (patent dated 22 Oct.) to the archiepiscopal see of Dublin. His ‘Introductory Lectures on Political Economy,’ which appeared in the latter year (London, 8vo; 4th edit. 1855), accurately defined the scope of the abstract science, and made a contribution to the doctrine of division of labour (see Lecture ii., concerning the conditions under which unskilled labour becomes more productive by division). On the whole, however, their inordinate discursiveness was not compensated by originality. It was probably about this time that Whately conceived the project of a universal currency, which in 1851 he laid before the managers of the Great Exhibition.

Whately was consecrated archbishop of Dublin in St. Patrick's Cathedral, in which ex officio he held the prebend of Cullen, on 23 Oct. 1831, and was enthroned the same day at Christ Church. On 24 Nov. following he was sworn in as chancellor of the order of St. Patrick (Dublin Evening Post, 25 Oct. and 26 Nov. 1831). In Trinity College, of which he was ex officio visitor, he founded in 1832 a chair of political economy. A scheme which he had at heart for the establishment of a separate theological hall was defeated in 1839, but led to the provision of more efficient instruction in the rudiments of religion within the college. Whately was also a member of the Royal Irish Academy, of which in 1848 he was nominated vice-president. He took his seat in the House of Lords on 1 Feb. 1833.

Whately found his position at Dublin no sinecure. To his ordinary duties, which he discharged with scrupulous conscientiousness, the tithe war added the care of sustaining the drooping courage of an almost destitute clergy and rendering the government such assistance as was in his power (cf. Introductory Lectures on Political Economy, App. C., ‘Extracts from Evidence before the Select Committee of the House of Lords appointed to inquire into the Collection and Payment of Tithes in Ireland,’ 1832). He was ex officio lord justice during the absence of the lord lieutenant. He also presided (1833–6) over the royal commission on the condition of the Irish poor (see Parl. Papers, 1835 xxxii. No. 369, 1836 xxx. and xxxii., 1836 xxxi. 587 et seq.). Experience and responsibility taught him how to reconcile his anti-Erastian principles with the promotion of the sweeping changes introduced into the Irish establishment by the Church Temporalities Act (1833); but he disapproved the Tithe Commutation Act of 1838. The burden of his office was not lightened by popularity. His English birth and breeding and his well-known antipathy to evangelical principles made him an object of jealousy and suspicion to both clergy and laity. His preaching was unpalatable. His chaste, clear-cut, unimpassioned, argumentative style failed to move his hearers, even if his matter did not, as to some it sometimes did, savour of heresy, not to say infidelity. Above all, his position as working head of the commission appointed on 26 Nov. 1831 to administer the new system of ‘united national education’ militated against him. The experiment was to be tried of providing


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 in the common schools such elementary religious instruction as might, it was hoped, prove acceptable to catholics and protestants alike. It fell accordingly to Whately to compile, in conjunction with his catholic colleague, Daniel Murray [q. v.], a course of ‘Scripture Extracts,’ in which certain deviations from the authorised version could not but be admitted. This embroiled him with the more extreme protestants, who were still further offended by his support of the Maynooth grant in 1845 (see his charge, entitled Reflections on a Grant to a Roman Catholic Seminary, London, 1845, 8vo; and cf., Parl. Debates, 3rd ser. lxxx. 1, 338).

Much heartburning was also caused among catholics by the ‘Introductory Lessons on Christian Evidence’ (London, 1838; 7th edit. 1846, 16mo), which Whately wrote for use in the schools, and which received the sanction of the board. An abridgment of this manual was, however, expressly approved by Dr. Murray, who so long as he lived continued cordially to co-operate with Whately. When Murray died (1852) the excitement occasioned by the so-called ‘papal aggression’ had not yet subsided, and the policy of the Vatican had ceased to be conciliatory. The new primate, Paul Cullen [q. v.], censured both the ‘Scripture Extracts’ and the ‘Lessons.’ The majority of the board declined to insist on their retention in the curriculum, and Whately thereupon resigned (26 July 1853). His retirement tended to reassure the protestant party, and, though he never became exactly popular, justice was at length done to the courage, conscientiousness, and zeal with which, in the face of unremitting obstruction and misconstruction, he had laboured for more than twenty years to make the best of an experiment foredoomed to failure. His services to elementary education were by no means confined to his work on the board. He possessed the rare gift of expounding matters not usually taught in primary schools in a manner intelligible to the young; and truly admirable in their way are his ‘Easy Lessons on Money Matters’ (London, 1837; 9th edit. 1845, 16mo), ‘Easy Lessons on Reasoning’ (London, 1843; 5th edit. 1848, 12mo), ‘Introductory Lessons on the British Constitution’ (London, 1854, 18mo), ‘Introductory Lessons on Morals’ (London, 1855, 18mo), and ‘Introductory Lessons on Mind’ (London, 1859, 8vo).

In politics Whately was an independent liberal. While the Reform Bill was under discussion he predicted that it would fail of finality, and avowed his preference for manhood suffrage, provided property were protected by a system of plural voting and the voter secured against canvassing and intimidation. Purely political questions, however, interested him less than the weightier matters which partisans usually ignore. In the spirit of a philosopher he studied our penal system, which he proposed to reform by the abolition of all punishments but such as were strictly and merely deterrent. His principles were too abstract to gain general acceptance, and were indeed never given to the world in their entirety; but his public utterances in regard to transportation did much to awaken the public mind to a sense of its futility and mischievous results (see his Thoughts on Secondary Punishments, in a Letter to Earl Grey, London, 1832, 8vo; Report from the Select Committee of the House of Commons on Transportation, together with a Letter from the Archbishop of Dublin on the same Subject, London, 1838, 8vo; and cf. his Introductory Lectures on Political Economy, App. E-G, containing (1) ‘Article on Transportation from the “London Review,”’ 1829, (2) ‘Remarks on Transportation, in a Letter to Earl Grey,’ 1834, and (3) ‘Substance of a Speech on Transportation in the House of Lords, 19 May 1840’). He had boundless faith in political economy, and, having early formed a strong opinion against outdoor relief, steadfastly opposed its extension to Ireland; nor did he shrink from adhering to his principles during the potato famine (ib. App. D, ‘Substance of a Speech in the House of Lords, 26 March 1847, on the Motion for a Committee on Irish Poor Laws,’ and subjoined ‘Protest’). He was, however, a munificent contributor to the voluntary relief fund, and organised a special committee in aid of the poor clergy. He had no panacea for Ireland's woes, but thought it would tend to reduce disaffection if the viceroyalty were abolished and the visits of the sovereign were frequent and prolonged. He was one of the pioneers of social science, being an original member of the Statistical Society of Dublin (founded in 1847) and of its auxiliary (founded in 1850), the Society for promoting Scientific Inquiries into Social Questions, of which he was vice-president. He presided over the statistical department of the British Association at Belfast in 1852 and at Dublin in 1857.

Though not opposed to religious tests, Whately had an intense aversion to oaths sworn on secular occasions, and petitioned the queen (1837) for relief from the duty of swearing in the knights of St. Patrick. He supported the claim of the Jews to exemption from the parliamentary oath, and


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 eventually pronounced decisively against the oath itself, and indeed any form of asseveration or declaration on entering parliament (see his speeches in the House of Lords on 1 Aug. 1833, 26 June 1849, and 29 April 1853,, Parl. Debates, 3rd ser. xx. 226, cvi. 891, cxxvi. 772).

While deploring slavery, Whately thought gradual preferable to sudden emancipation. He discountenanced sabbatarianism (see his Thoughts on the Sabbath, London, 1830, 1832, 8vo), and approved of the legalisation of marriage with a deceased wife's sister and of the subsisting marriages of converted polygamists. From Dublin he watched with keen interest the course of events in Oxford. It was on his recommendation that Renn Dickson Hampden [q. v.] was appointed to the regius chair of divinity, and bitterly did he resent the part taken by Newman in the subsequent controversy. He did not decline to receive Newman on a flying visit to Oxford in September 1838; but the publication of ‘Tract xc’ completed the estrangement. It was not, however, until the appearance of Ward's ‘Ideal of a Christian Church’ that Whately took decisive action against the movement. He then in a strongly worded letter appealed to the vice-chancellor to vindicate the protestantism of the university (26 Oct. 1844). The form which the vindication assumed disappointed him, as he held that Ward's degradation was not, while his expulsion would have been, within the powers of convocation. He also regretted the defeat of the proposed censure of ‘Tract xc.’

The Gorham controversy elicited from Whately a charge, ‘Infant Baptism’ (London, 1850; 2nd ed. 1854, 8vo), in which he attempted to prove that the high view of baptism is unscriptural [see ].

On the part of Rome Whately dreaded overt action far less than secret propaganda. By the so-called papal aggression of 1850 he was almost unmoved. The Ecclesiastical Titles Act he deplored as an error of judgment, but deprecated the proposed exception of Ireland from its purview (see his charge, Protective Measures in behalf of the Established Church, London, 1851, 8vo). The Society for Protecting the Rights of Conscience which he founded in 1851 was merely intended to afford assistance to converts from catholicism to protestantism who were suffering under religious persecution. The support which in 1853 he gave to Lord Shaftesbury's petition for the registration and inspection of conventual establishments rested on broad grounds of public utility (see his speech in the House of Lords, 9 May 1853,, Parl. Debates, 3rd ser. cxxvi. 1286). On the definition of the Immaculate Conception he did indeed issue a charge, ‘Thoughts on the New Dogma of the Church of Rome’ (London, 1855, 8vo), but his main concern was to dissuade others from embarking in fruitless controversy. From the evangelical alliance he held aloof (see his Thoughts on the Evangelical Alliance, London, 1846, 12mo). To German rationalism he was as strongly opposed as to sacerdotalism and Calvinism (see Historic Certainties respecting the Early History of America, London, 1851, 8vo, an ingenious travesty of the higher criticism, in which he collaborated with William Fitzgerald [q. v.], and the Cautions for the Times, London, 1853, 8vo, for which, with Fitzgerald, he was also jointly responsible).

In 1854 Whately discharged a labour of love and piety by editing Copleston's ‘Remains’ (London, 8vo). In 1856 he concentrated the results of many years of study in an annotated edition of Bacon's ‘Essays’ (last ed. 1873). In 1859 he did a like office for Paley's ‘Moral Philosophy’ and ‘View of Christian Evidences’ (London, 8vo). His own ‘Lectures on some of the Scripture Parables’ also appeared in 1859 (London, 12mo). His ‘Miscellaneous Lectures and Reviews’ followed in 1861 (London, 8vo). A paralytic attack from which he suffered in 1856 proved to be symptomatic of a constitution thoroughly undermined. Gradual decay supervened, and, after a prolonged and painful illness, he died at the Palace, St. Stephen's Green, Dublin, on 1 Oct. 1863. His remains were interred in St. Patrick's Cathedral.

Whately married, on 18 July 1821, Elizabeth (d. 25 April 1860), third daughter of William Pope of Hillingdon Hall, Uxbridge, Middlesex, by whom he left (with female issue) a son, Edward William Whately, chancellor of St. Patrick's 1862–71, and rector of Staines, Middlesex, 1871–92.

Whately ignored metaphysics and minimised theology. In early life he was suspected of a leaning towards Sabellianism, but this was at most a fugitive phase. From the appendices to the ‘Discourse on Predestination’ it is plain that already in 1821 his views tended towards the agnosticism which was afterwards precisely formulated by Mansel. Transcendentalism and the higher criticism, which he did not understand, he was content to dismiss with a sneer. His cardinal principle was that of Chillingworth—‘the Bible, and the Bible alone, is the religion of protestants;’ and his exegesis was directed to determine the general tenor


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Rh parts into sections, and lives on through the ever-vital bark. The bark curls about the decayed sections, and forms a fresh tree. Consequently, in place of one huge ancient olive, one finds three or four younger trees, but all with a look on them as if they were the children of old age, growing out of the same root. And when this second generation dies, the vitality of the root remains unimpaired; it throws up new shoots, and thus the life of the tree, like that of an ancient family, is indefinitely prolonged. The healthy olive tree, well fed on old rags and filth of every description, to which it is exceedingly partial, is very beautiful; but the beauty of the olive tree comes out in winter and early spring; when the deciduous trees are in leaf and brilliant green, it looks dull and dowdy. The olive flowers from April to June, and the fruit requires about six months to reach maturity. The harvest, accordingly, is in winter. The berry becomes black finally, and falls from the tree in December and January. The oil from the fully matured olives is more abundant, but is not so good in quality as that expressed from the berry whilst still green. The olives, when gathered, are taken to the mills, which are rude, picturesque buildings, planted in the ravines to command water power; but occasionally the crushing is done by horses turning the mills. The olives are crushed by stone rollers; the pulp is put into baskets and saturated with hot water, and subjected to great pressure. The juice then squeezed out is carried into vats, where the oil floats on the surface and is skimmed off. The wood of the olive is used for fuel, and for boxes and other ornaments that are hand-painted. The tree requires good nourishment if it is to be well cropped, and it is most partial to a dressing of old

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 of the scriptures to the exclusion of dogmas based on isolated texts. There is no reason to question his reception of the central doctrines of the faith, though he shrank from theorising or even attempting to formulate them with precision. On election he held, broadly speaking, the Arminian view, and his antipathy to Calvinism was intense. He dwelt more on the life than on the death of Christ, the necessity of which he denied. He also denied the real (objective) presence in the eucharist, but allowed a certain (adoptive) efficacy to baptism. He doubted the natural immortality of the soul and denied the physical resurrection of the body, but made no attempt to attenuate the significance of the doctrine of eternal punishment (see his Essays on some of the Peculiarities of the Christian Religion, London, 1825, 8th ed. 1880, 8vo; View of the Scripture Revelations concerning a Future State, London, 1829, 2nd ed. 1830, 8vo; The Right Principle of the interpretation of Scripture considered in reference to the Eucharist, and the Doctrines connected therewith, London, 1856, 8vo; The Scripture Doctrine of the Sacraments, London, 1857, 8vo). Apostolical succession he discarded in his acknowledged works as an unverifiable and pernicious assumption, and claimed for every christian community the right of freely determining its own organisation within the limits prescribed by Christ himself (see his Kingdom of Christ Delineated, &c., London, 1841, 8vo; abridgment by Miss E. J. Whately entitled Apostolical Succession Considered, London, 1877, 16mo).

In ethics Whately was an intuitionist of the school of Butler, and accordingly his annotations on Paley's ‘Moral Philosophy’ frequently took the form of strictures. In apologetics, on the other hand, Paley was his acknowledged master. His most characteristic mental trait was strong common-sense. His style was dignified, nervous, perspicuous, and sometimes sententious (see Detached Thoughts and Apophthegms and Selections from his writings, London, 1854 and 1856, 8vo). His piety is undeniable, and his belief in the universal mission of the church is attested by the support which he gave to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts. Though no bigot, he did not exactly err through excessive tolerance. To Pusey he denied permission to preach in the archdiocese, and Newman he declined to receive in Dublin. Blanco White, on his secession from the church of England, found that he must resign his position in Whately's household. [As to their subsequent relations and Whately's conduct on White's death see .]

Notwithstanding the brusquerie of manner which he never completely lost, Whately shone in society. His conversational powers excited the admiration of so competent a judge as Guizot (Mémoires, v. 168); but he did not, on the whole, seek society. Sismondi, whose acquaintance he made in 1839, he failed to cultivate. In later life he became somewhat recluse, and, though always a genial, if eccentric, host, was never so happy as among his books or his flowers: he was an enthusiastic horticulturist at his country house, Redesdale, near Kingstown.

Whately's portrait was painted by Catterson Smith of the Royal Hibernian Academy. A stipple-engraved portrait of him is in the British Museum. For other engraved portraits see his ‘Life,’ cited infra.

Whately's principal works (other than those mentioned above) are the following: 1. ‘The Christian's Duty considered in Two Sermons,’ Oxford, 1821, 8vo. 2. ‘Essay on the Omission of Creeds, Liturgies, and Codes of Ecclesiastical Canons in the New Testament,’ London, 1831, 8vo. 3. ‘Sermons on Various Subjects,’ London, 1835, 8vo; 2nd edit. 1849; enlarged reprint entitled ‘Sermons on the Principal Christian Festivals,’ London, 1854–62. 4. ‘Remarks on some Causes of Hostility to the Christian Religion,’ Dublin, 1838, 8vo. 5. ‘Essays on some of the Dangers to the Christian Faith which may arise from the Teaching or Conduct of its Professors; to which are subjoined Three Discourses,’ London, 1839; 2nd edit. 1847, 8vo. 6. ‘The Search after Infallibility,’ Dublin, 1847; 2nd edit. 1848, 8vo. 7. ‘Statements and Reflections respecting the Church and the Universities, being an Answer to an Enquiry concerning the Movement connected with the Appointment of the Bishop of Hereford,’ Dublin, 2nd edit. 1848, 8vo. 8. ‘Introductory Lessons on the History of Religious Worship,’ London, 1849, 16mo. 9. ‘Four Sermons,’ London, 1849, 8vo. 10. ‘Introductory Lessons on the Study of the Apostle Paul's Epistles,’ London, 1849, 24mo. 11. ‘Tractatus Tres de Locis quibusdam difficilioribus Scripturæ Sacræ, scilicet: De Arboribus Scientiæ ac Vitæ.—Unde primitus mansuefacti et exculti Homines?—De Turri Babel;’ 2nd edit. Stuttgart, 1849, 8vo. 12. ‘Lectures on the Characters of our Lord's Apostles,’ London, 1851, 8vo. 13. ‘Lectures on the Scripture Revelations concerning Good and Evil Angels,’ London, 1851; 2nd edit. 1855, 12mo. 14. ‘Thoughts on the Proposed Revision of the Liturgy: a Charge,’ London, 1860, 8vo. 15. ‘The


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 Parish Pastor,’ London, 1860, 8vo. 16. ‘Lectures on Prayer,’ London, 1860, 12mo. 17. ‘The Judgment of Conscience, and other Sermons,’ London, 1864, 8vo. 18. ‘Christian Evidences, intended chiefly for the Young,’ London, 1864, 12mo. 19. ‘Miscellaneous Remains’ (from his commonplace book), London, 1864, 12mo; 3rd edit. 1866, 8vo.

Whately edited in 1839 ‘Remarks on some of the Characters of Shakespeare,’ by his uncle, Thomas Whately [q. v.]; some trifling pieces by his wife; and ‘A Selection of English Synonyms’ by his daughter, Miss E. J. Whately, London, 1851.

[Miss E. J. Whately's Life and Correspondence of Richard Whately, D.D., 1866; Fitzpatrick's Anecdotal Memoirs of Richard Whately, 1864; Copleston's Remains, ed. Whately; Memorials of Lady Osborne, 1870, ii. 206 et seq.; E. W. Whately's Personal and Family Glimpses of Remarkable People, 1889; Simpson's Many Memories of Many People, 1897; Stanley's Life of Arnold; Newman's Apologia, chap. i., and Newman's Letters, ed. Anne Mozley; Prothero's Life and Correspondence of A. P. Stanley, and Letters and Verses of A. P. Stanley; Mozley's Reminiscences; Senior's Journals relating to Ireland, ii. 57–74, 122–66, 266 et seq.; Blanco White's Autobiography, ed. Thom; Hampden's Memorials of Bishop Hampden; J. B. Mozley's Letters; Church's Oxford Movement; Davidson and Benham's Life of Archibald Campbell Tait, i. 40, 267; Liddon's Life of Pusey; Burgon's Lives of Twelve Good Men; Cox's Recollections of Oxford, p. 64; Nicholls's Irish Poor Law, pp. 118 et seq.; Fraser's Archbishop Whately and the Restoration of the Study of Logic; Harriet Martineau's Biographical Sketches; Greville Memoirs (2nd pt.), iii. 73; Foster's Alumni Oxon.; Foster's Index Eccles.; Foster's Peerage, ‘Cottenham;’ Cussans's Hertfordshire, i. (Braughing), 59, 141, iii. (Dacorum), 123; Brayley and Britton's Surrey, ii. 607; Manning and Bray's Surrey, ii. 607, iii. 9; Cotton's Fasti Eccl. Hibern.; Gent. Mag. 1818 i. 379, 1860 i. 642, 1863 ii. 640, 1864 i. 804; Notes and Queries, 3rd ser. vii. 222; Ann. Reg. (1863), Chron. p. 216; Times, 1, 6 July, 11, 20, 27 Aug., 6, 14 Sept., 28 Oct. 1853, 9 Oct. 1863; Guardian, 14 Oct. 1863; Westminster Review, ix. 137 (J. S. Mill on Whately's Logic); Edinb. Rev. lvii. 194, lviii. 336, xc. 301 n., xciii. 578, cxx. 372 et seq.; Quart. Rev. xxvi. 82, xlvi. 46, xcix. 287; North Brit. Rev. i. 486; Macmillan's Mag. December 1865 (Trench on Oriel College Hall); Spectator, 17 Oct. 1863; Blackwood's Edinb. Mag. xcvi. 472; The Month, vi. 100; Fraser's Mag. lxxv. 545; Athenæum, 1854 p. 521, 1856 p. 456, 1859 ii. 662; Hallam's Literature of Europe, ii. 428 n.; George Bentham's Outlines of a New System of Logic; Sir George Cornewall Lewis's Examination of some Passages in Dr. Whately's Logic, 1829; Hamilton's Lectures on Metaphysics and Logic; J. S. Mill's Logic, Preface and chap. iii.; J. S. Mill's Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, 6th edit. p. 641; Pfleiderer's Development of Theology in Germany since Kant, and its Progress in England since 1825, pp. 368–9; Fisher's History of Christian Doctrine, p. 450; Overton's English Church in the Nineteenth Century; Stoughton's Religion in England from 1800 to 1850.]  WHATELY, THOMAS (d. 1772), politician and literary student, was an elder brother of Joseph Whately of Nonsuch Park, Surrey ( and, Surrey, ii. 607), prebendary of Bristol 1793–7 (Gent. Mag. 1797, i. 435), and uncle of Archbishop Whately. He was known to all the leading men in public life as a keen politician and a well-informed man. For many years he was in the closest confidence of George Grenville, to whom he communicated from his house in Parliament Street, Westminster, an abundance of political gossip (Grenville Papers, ii. 133 to end). He also corresponded with Lord Temple, Lord George Sackville, and James Harris, M.P.

Whately sat in parliament from 1761 to 1768 for the borough of Ludgershall in Wiltshire, and from 1768 until his death he represented the borough of Castle Rising in Norfolk. From 5 April 1764 until its dismissal in July 1765 he held the post of secretary to the treasury in George Grenville's administration, and he then went into opposition with that statesman. He was the author of ‘Remarks on “The Budget,” or a Candid Examination of the Facts and Arguments in that Pamphlet’ (1765), refuting David Hartley's attack on Grenville's financial schemes, and he also defended his chief in ‘Considerations on the Trade and Finances of the Kingdom and on the Measures of the Administration since the Conclusion of the Peace’ (3rd edit. 1769). Whately has sometimes been credited with the authorship of a pamphlet on the ‘Present State of the Nation’ (1768; appendix, 1769), but it was probably drawn up, under Grenville's supervision, by William Knox (1732–1810) [q. v.] A second pamphlet, ‘The Controversy between Great Britain and her Colonies reviewed’ (1769), attributed to him and included in Almon's ‘Collection of Tracts on Taxing the British Colonies in America’ (vol. iii. 1773), is also believed to have been written by Knox.

On Grenville's death in November 1770 Whately attached himself to Lord North, and acted as the ‘go between’ for his old patron's friends. Junius thereupon denounced him as possessing ‘the talents of


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86 rotten rags. All the filthy and decayed scraps of clothing cast by the Neapolitan peasantry are carried in boats to the coast and are eagerly bought as manure. At Hyères, moreover, we come on the orange and the lemon. The orange was originally imported from China into Spain, and thence passed to Italy and the Riviera. Oranges are said to live four or five hundred years. S. Dominic planted one in the garden at Sta. Sabina, at Rome, in 1200, that still flourishes. Hale and fruitbearing also is that at Fondi, planted by Thomas Aquinas in 1278. Nevertheless, it is certain that old orange-trees have disappeared from Hyères. Whether they were killed by the severe winter of 1864, or whether by a disease, is doubtful. The trees one sees now are none of them ancient, and do not attain a height above nine feet. The name orange comes from the Sanskrit, and the Portuguese, who introduced the orange to Europe, borrowed the name from the Hindus. In 1516 Francis I. was present during a naval sham fight at Marseilles, where oranges were used as projectiles. Oranges had been grown sufficiently long at Hyères to have attained a great size in the sixteenth century, for when there, Charles IX., his brother the Duke of Anjou, and the King of Navarre, by stretching their hands, together hooped round the trunk of one tree that bore 14,000 oranges. Thereupon was cut in the bark, "Caroli regis amplexu glorior." But there are no such orange-trees as that now at Hyères. Probably that was of a more hardy nature and of inferior quality to the orange-tree now grown. In fact, the present strain of oranges cultivated is a late importation, not earlier than about 1848. When a horticulturist of Marseilles imported it, it was next brought to Bordighera; from thence it passed to San

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 an attorney’ and ‘the agility of Colonel Bodens’ (an unwieldy man who could scarcely move), and as ‘deserting Grenville's cause when he was hardly cold in his grave’ (letter, 9 Jan. 1771, in ed. 1812, iii. 310–11). He was appointed a commissioner on the board of trade in January 1771, the ‘keeper of his Majesty's private roads and guide to his royal person in all progresses’ in January 1772, and he was under-secretary of state from June 1771 for the northern department. These appointments he held for the rest of his life. He died unmarried and intestate on 26 May 1772; his brother, William Whately, a banker in Lombard Street, London, administered to the effects.

Whately was the author of ‘Observations on Modern Gardening, illustrated by descriptions’ [anon.], 1770; 4th ed. 1777; 5th ed. 1793; new ed. with notes by Horace, earl of Orford, and plates of Wollet [sic], 1801. Selections from it were made for Fosbroke's ‘Wye Tour; or Gilpin on the Wye, 1826.’ A French translation by François de Paul Latapie, with additions, was published at Paris in 1771 (, Letters, v. 321, 324); its main idea was adopted by a M. Morel in France (, Illustrations of Lit. vii. 545–6), and the Abbé Delille in ‘Les Jardins,’ 1782 (third chant) spoke of him as his master. Archbishop Whately, in the later issues of his edition of Bacon's ‘Essays,’ appends a note to essay xlvi. ‘On Gardens,’ in praise of his uncle's treatise, but somewhat exaggerates in asserting that he ‘first brought into notice Thomson's “Seasons.”’ George Mason, in his ‘Essay on Design in Gardening’ (1795), omits no opportunity of censuring his volume; but Alison, in his ‘Essays on Taste,’ gives it the highest praise.

Whately left unfinished at his death an essay called ‘Remarks on Some of the Characters of Shakespeare’ [Macbeth and Richard III]. It was published by his brother, the Rev. Joseph Whately, in 1785, as ‘by the author of “Observations on Modern Gardening,”’ was reissued with his name as author, in 1808, and edited by Archbishop Whately, who calls it ‘one of the ablest critical works that ever appeared,’ in 1839. It had been his intention to analyse eight or ten of Shakespeare's principal characters in the same manner, but he was interrupted by other business. His essay provoked from J. P. Kemble a sharp answer in ‘Macbeth Reconsidered’ [anon.], 1785, and ‘Macbeth and King Richard III. By J. P. Kemble,’ 1817. In the autumn of 1811 Whately's work attracted the notice of Charles Knight, and ultimately led to his edition of Shakespeare (, Working Life, ii. 280–2).

Several letters written in 1767–9 by Governor Hutchinson, Lieutenant-Governor Andrew Oliver, and others, to Whately, which passed on his death to his brother William, were obtained by Franklin and brought before the Massachusetts house of representatives. These communications led to a petition from the colony to the privy council for the removal of the officials who had corresponded with Whately; during the hearing of the petition Wedderburn, as counsel for the officials, made his fierce attack on Franklin. A duel followed between William Whately and John Temple, an American gentleman residing in England.

[Gent. Mag. 1772, pp. 247, 343; Almon's Anecdotes, ii. 103–7, iii. 236–73; Cavendish's Debates, ii. 214–15; Chatham Corresp. iv. 75; Parton's Franklin, i. 560–82; Walpole's Journals, 1771–83, i. 255; Hutchinson's Diary, i. 81–93; Hutchinson's Massachusetts Bay (1828), pp. 404–18; Archbishop Whately's Life and Corresp. i. 2–3; Felton's Authors on Gardening, 2nd ed. pp. 70–6; Halkett and Laing's Anon. Lit. pp. 489, 1773, 2148.]  WHATELY, WILLIAM (1583–1639), puritan divine, son of Thomas Whately, twice mayor of Banbury, Oxfordshire, and Joyce, his wife, was born at Banbury on 21 May 1583. At fourteen he entered Christ's College, Cambridge, where he had Thomas Potman for his tutor. He graduated B.A. in 1601, having won notice as a logician and orator. He left Cambridge with decided puritan opinions to continue theological study at home, and married Martha, daughter of George Hunt, fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford, and for fifty-one years rector of Collingbourne Ducis, Wiltshire. At the instigation of his father-in-law (son of John Hunt, a puritan, condemned to be burnt by Queen Mary, but reprieved by her death), he repaired to Oxford to study for the ministry, and was incorporated at St. Edmund Hall on 15 July 1602 (Reg. of Univ. of Oxford, ed. Clark, i. 366). He graduated M.A. on 26 June 1604, was soon after chosen lecturer in his native town, and was instituted on 9 Feb. 1610, on the king's presentation, to the vicarage of Banbury, where, although at first considered too puritan, he was soon much liked. His ‘able body and sound lungs’ (he was called ‘the Roaring Boy of Banbury’), added to his reputation for ‘matter, method, elocution, and pronunciation’ (Life of Harris, by W. D.), attracted ‘great wits’ and persons of many persuasions to come out from Oxford to hear him. With other ministers he delivered lectures at Stratford-on-Avon.


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PERCEIVED,” said M. Gaston Max, “that owing to the progress of the work of demolition, and owing to the carelessness of the people in charge—nom d’un nom! they were careless, those!—I was able, from a certain point, to look into a small room fitted up in a way very curious. There was a sort of bunk somewhat similar to that in a steamer berth, and the walls were covered with paper of a Chinese pattern—most bizarre. No one was in the room when I first perceived it, but I had not been looking in for many moments before a Chinaman entered and closed the shutters. He was hasty, this one.

“Eh bien! I had seen enough. I perceived that my visit to the house of Cagliostro had been dictated by a good little angel. It happened that for many months I had been in quest of the headquarters of a certain group which I knew, beyond any tiny doubt, to have its claws deep in Parisian society. I refer to an opium syndicate”…

Dr. Cumberly started and seemed about to speak; but he restrained himself, bending forward and awaiting the detective’s next words with even keener interest than hitherto.

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Rh Remo, to Ventimiglia, and thence to Nice. The orange, and above all the lemon, is very sensitive to cold, and the frost of February, 1905, blighted nearly every tree along the coast, turning the leaves a pale straw colour. Only in very sheltered spots did they retain their green and gloss. About Solliés-Pont the sumac is grown for the sake of its tannin. The leaves only are used, but for them the branches are cut off. When these are dry they are stripped of their foliage by women and children. The leaves are then pounded to powder, and are packed in sacks and sent away. Thirty per cent, of the matter in the dried sumac leaves is tannin. At Hyères we have passed abruptly from the limestone to the schist that has been heaved up by the granite of the Montagnes des Maures. The Gapeau, which at present flows into the sea to the east of Hyères, originally discharged past La Garde into the Rade de Toulon. But it brought down such a quantity of rubble from the limestone range—of which the Pilon de la Sainte Beaume is the highest point—that it has formed a crau of its own, and choked up its mouth to such an extent as to force its current to turn to the farther side of the Maurettes so as to find a passage to the sea. Hyères is a notable place for the abrupt contrast it exhibits between what is ancient and what is modern. Down the slope of the height, that is crowned by the castle, slides the old town, with narrow streets, mere lanes, to its old walls, in which are gateways, and through these arches we emerge at once into everything that is most up-to-date. At a stride we pass out of the Middle Ages into modern times. There is no intervening zone of transition.

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 “I had been trying—all vainly—to trace the source from which the opium was obtained, and the place where it was used. I have devoted much attention to the subject, and have spent some twelve months in the opium provinces of China, you understand. I know how insidious a thing it is, this opium, and how dreadful a curse it may become when it gets a hold upon a community. I was formerly engaged upon a most sensational case in San Francisco; and the horrors of the discoveries which we made there—the American police and myself—have remained with me ever since. Pardieu! I cannot forget them! Therefore when I learnt that an organized attempt was being made to establish elaborate opium dens upon a most up-to-date plan, in Paris, I exerted myself to the utmost to break up this scheme in its infancy”…

Dr. Cumberly was hanging upon every word.

“Apart from the physical and moral ruin attendant upon the vice,” continued Max, “the methods of this particular organization have brought financial ruin to many.” He shook his finger at Dr. Cumberly as if to emphasize his certainty upon this point. “I will not go into particulars now, but there is a system of wholesale robbery—sapristi! of most ingenious brigandage—being practised by this group. Therefore I congratulated myself upon the inspiration which had led me to mount Cagliostro’s staircase. The way in which these people had conducted their sinister trade from so public a

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 spot as this was really wonderful, but I had already learned to respect the ingenuity of the group, or of the man at the head of it. I wasted no time; not I! We raided the house that evening”…

“And what did you find?” asked Dr. Cumberly, eagerly.

“We found this establishment elaborately fitted, and the whole of the fittings were American. Eh bien! This confirmed me in my belief that the establishment was a branch of the wealthy concern I have mentioned in San Francisco. There was also a branch in New York, apparently. We found six or eight people in the place in various stages of coma; and I cannot tell you their names because—among them, were some well-known in the best society”…

“Good Heavens, M. Max, you surprise and shock me!”

“What I tell you is but the truth. We apprehended two low fellows who acted as servants sometimes in the place. We had records of both of them at the Bureau. And there was also a woman belonging to the same class. None of these seemed to me very important, but we were fortunate enough to capture, in addition, a Chinaman—Sen—and a certain Madame Jean—the latter the principal of the establishment!”

“What! a woman?”

“Morbleu! a woman—exactly! You are

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 ? Yes; and I was surprised, but full inquiry convinced me that Madame Jean was the chief of staff. We had conducted the raid at night, of course, and because of the big names, we hushed it up. We can do these things in Paris so much more easily than is possible here in London.” He illustrated, delivering a kick upon the person of an imaginary malefactor. “''Cochon! Va!''” he shrugged. “It is finished!

“The place was arranged with Oriental magnificence. The reception-room—if I can so term that apartment—was like the scene of Rimsky Korsakov’s Shéhérezade; I could see that very heavy charges were made at this establishment. I will not bore you with further particulars, but I will tell you of my disappointment.”

“Your disappointment?”

“Yes, I was disappointed. True, I had brought about the closing of that house, but of the huge sums of money fraudulently obtained from victims, I could find no trace in the accounts of Madame Jean. She defied me with silence, simply declining to give any account of herself beyond admitting that she conducted an hotel at which opium might be smoked if desired. Blagueur! Sen, the Chinaman, who professed to speak nothing but Chinese—ah! cochon!—was equally a difficult case, Nom d’un nom! I was in despair, for apart from frauds connected with the concern, I had more than small

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 suspicions that at least one death—that of a wealthy banker—could be laid at the doors of the establishment in Rue St. Claude.”…

Dr. Cumberly bent yet lower, watching the speaker’s face.

“A murder!” he whispered.

“I do not say so,” replied Max, “but it certainly might have been. The case then must, indeed, have ended miserably, as far as I was concerned, if I had not chanced upon a letter which the otherwise prudent Madame Jean had forgotten to destroy. Triomphe! It was a letter of instruction, and definitely it proved that she was no more than a kind of glorified conciérge, and that the chief of the opium group was in London.”

“Undoubtedly in London. There was no address on the letter, and no date, and it was curiously signed: Mr. King.”

“Mr. King!”

Dr. Cumberly rose slowly from his chair, and took a step toward M. Max.

“You are interested?” said the detective, and shrugged his shoulders, whilst his mobile mouth shaped itself in a grim smile. “Pardieu! I knew you would be! Acting upon another clue which the letter—priceless letter—contained, I visited the Crédit Lyonnais. I discovered that an account had been opened there by Mr. Henry Leroux of London on behalf of his wife, Mira Leroux, to the amount of a thousand pounds.”

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 “A thousand pounds—really!” cried Dr. Cumberly, drawing his heavy brows together—“as much as that?”

“Certainly. It was for a thousand pounds,” repeated Max, “and the whole of that amount had been drawn out.”

“The whole thousand?”

“The whole thousand; nom d’un p’tit bonhomme! The whole thousand! Acting, as I have said, upon the information in this always priceless letter, I confronted Madame Jean and the manager of the bank with each other. Morbleu! ‘This,’ he said, ‘is Mira Leroux of London!’”…

“What!” cried Cumberly, seemingly quite stupefied by this last revelation.

Max spread wide his palms, and the flexible lips expressed sympathy with the doctor’s stupefaction.

“It is as I tell you,” he continued. “This Madame Jean had been posing as Mrs. Leroux, and in some way, which I was unable to understand, her signature had been accepted by the Crédit Lyonnais. I examined the specimen signature which had been forwarded to them by the London County and Suburban Bank, and I perceived, at once, that it was not a case of common forgery. The signatures were identical”…

“Therefore,” said Cumberly, and he was thinking of Henry Leroux, whom Fate delighted in buffeting—“therefore, the Crédit Lyonnais is not responsible?”

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 “Most decidedly not responsible,” agreed Max. “So you see I now have two reasons for coming to London: one, to visit the London County and Suburban Bank, and the other to find…Mr. King. The first part of my mission I have performed successfully; but the second”…again he shrugged, and the lines of his mouth were humorous.

Dr. Cumberly began to walk up and down the carpet.

“Poor Leroux!” he muttered—“poor Leroux.”

“Ah! poor Leroux, indeed,” said Max. “He is so typical a victim of this most infernal group!”

“What!” Dr. Cumberly turned in his promenade and stared at the detective—“he’s not the only one?”

“My dear sir,” said Max, gently, “the victims of Mr. King are truly as the sands of Arabia.”

“Good heavens!” muttered Dr. Cumberly; “good heavens!”

“I came immediately to London,” continued Max, “and presented myself at New Scotland Yard. There I discovered that my inquiry was complicated by a ghastly crime which had been committed in the flat of Mr. Leroux; but I learned, also, that Mr. King was concerned in this crime—his name had been found upon a scrap of paper clenched in the murdered woman’s hand!”

“I was present when it was found,” said Dr. Cumberly.

“I know you were,” replied Max. “In short, I

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 discovered that the Palace Mansions murder case was my case, and that my case was the Palace Mansions case. Eh bien! the mystery of the Paris draft did not detain me long. A call upon the manager of the London County and Suburban Bank at Charing Cross revealed to me the whole plot. The real Mrs. Leroux had never visited that bank; it was Madame Jean, posing as Mrs. Leroux, who went there and wrote the specimen signature, accompanied by a certain Soames, a butler”…

“I know him!” said Dr. Cumberly, grimly, “the blackguard!”

“Truly a blackguard, truly a big, dirty blackguard! But it is such canaille as this that Mr. King discovers and uses for his own ends. Paris society, I know for a fact, has many such a canker-worm in its heart. Oh! it is a big case, a very big case. Poor Mr. Leroux being confined to his bed—ah! I pity him—I took the opportunity to visit his flat in Palace Mansions with Inspector Dunbar, and I obtained further evidence showing how the conspiracy had been conducted; yes. For instance, Dunbar’s notebook showed me that Mr. Leroux was accustomed to receive letters from Mrs. Leroux whilst she was supposed to be in Paris. I actually discovered some of those letters, and they bore no dates. This, if they came from a woman, was not remarkable, but, upon one of them I found something that was remarkable. It was still in its envelope, you must understand, this letter, its envelope

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 bearing the Paris post-mark. But impressed upon the paper I discovered a second post-mark, which, by means of a simple process, and the use of a magnifying glass, I made out to be Bow, East!”

“What!”

“Do you understand? This letter, and others doubtless, had been enclosed in an envelope and despatched to Paris from Bow, East? In short, Mrs. Leroux wrote those letters before she left London; Soames never posted them, but handed them over to some representative of Mr. King; this other, in turn, posted them to Madame Jean in Paris! Morbleu! these are clever rogues! This which I was fortunate enough to discover had been on top, you understand, this billet, and the outer envelope being very heavily stamped, that below retained the impress of the post-mark.”

“Poor Leroux!” said Cumberly again, with suppressed emotion. “That unsuspecting, kindly soul has been drawn into the meshes of this conspiracy. How they have been wound around him, until.”…

“He knows the truth about his wife?” asked Max, suddenly glancing up at the physician, “that she is not in Paris?”

“I, myself, broke the painful news to him,” replied Cumberly—“after a consultation with Miss Ryland and my daughter. I considered it my duty to tell him, but I cannot disguise from myself that it hastened, if it did not directly occasion, his breakdown.”

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 “Yes, yes,” said Max; “we have been very fortunate however in diverting the attention of the press from the absence of Mrs. Leroux throughout this time. Nom d’un nom! Had they got to know about the scrap of paper found in the dead woman’s hand, I fear that this would have been impossible.”

“I do not doubt that it would have been impossible, knowing the London press,” replied Dr. Cumberly, “but I, too, am glad that it has been achieved; for in the light of your Paris discoveries, I begin at last to understand.”

“You were not Mrs. Leroux’s medical adviser?”

“I was not,” replied Cumberly, glancing sharply at Max. “Good heavens, to think that I had never realized the truth!”

“It is not so wonderful at all. Of course, as I have seen from the evidence which you gave to the police, you knew that Mrs. Vernon was addicted to the use of opium?”

“It was perfectly evident,” replied Cumberly; “painfully evident. I will not go into particulars, but her entire constitution was undermined by the habit. I may add, however, that I did not associate the vice with her violent end, except”…

“Ah!” interrupted Max, shaking his finger at the physician, “you are coming to the point upon which you disagreed with the divisional surgeon! Now, it is an important point. You are of opinion that the injection in Mrs. Vernon’s shoulder—which could not have been self-administered”…

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 “She was not addicted to the use of the needle,” interrupted Cumberly; “she was an opium smoker.”

“Quite so, quite so,” said Max: “it makes the point all the more clear. You are of opinion that this injection was made at least eight hours before the woman’s death?”

“At least eight hours—yes.”

“Eh bien!” said Max; “and have you had extensive experience of such injections?”

Dr. Cumberly stared at him in some surprise.

“In a general way,” he said, “a fair number of such cases have come under my notice; but it chances that one of my patients, a regular patient—is addicted to the vice.”

“Injections?”

“Only as a makeshift. He has periodical bouts of opium smoking—what I may term deliberate debauches.”

“Ah!” Max was keenly interested. “This patient is a member of good society?”

“He’s a member of Parliament,” replied Cumberly, a faint, humorous glint creeping into his gray eyes; “but, of course, that is not an answer to your question! Yes, he is of an old family, and is engaged to the daughter of a peer.”

“Dr. Cumberly,” said Max, “in a case like the present—apart from the fact that the happiness—pardieu! the life—of one of your own friends is involved…should you count it a breach of

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 etiquette to divulge the name of that patient?”

It was a disturbing question; a momentous question for a fashionable physician to be called upon to answer thus suddenly. Dr. Cumberly, who had resumed his promenade of the carpet, stopped with his back to M. Max, and stared out of the window into Harley Street.

M. Max, a man of refined susceptibilities, came to his aid, diplomatically.

“It is perhaps overmuch to ask you,” he said. “I can settle the problem in a more simple manner. Inspector Dunbar will ask you for this gentleman’s name, and you, as witness in the case, cannot refuse to give it.”

“I can refuse until I stand in the witness-box!” replied Cumberly, turning, a wry smile upon his face.

“With the result,” interposed Max, “that the ends of justice might be defeated, and the wrong man hanged!”

“True,” said Cumberly; “I am splitting hairs. It is distinctly a breach of professional etiquette, nevertheless, and I cannot disguise the fact from myself. However, since the knowledge will never go any further, and since tremendous issues are at stake, I will give you the name of my opium patient. It is Sir Brian Malpas!”

“I am much indebted to you, Dr. Cumberly,” said Max; “a thousand thanks;” but in his eyes

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 there was a far-away look. “Malpas—Malpas! Where in this case have I met with the name of Malpas?”…

“Inspector Dunbar may possibly have mentioned it to you in reference to the evidence of Mr. John Exel, M. P. Mr. Exel, you may remember”…

“I have it!” cried Max; “Nom d’un nom! I have it! It was from Sir Brian Malpas that he had parted at the corner of Victoria Street on the night of the murder, is it not so?”

“Your memory is very good, M. Max!”

“Then Mr. Exel is a personal friend of Sir Brian Malpas?”

“Excellent! Kismet aids me still! I come to you hoping that you may be acquainted with the constitution of Mrs. Leroux, but no! behold me disappointed in this. Then—morbleu! among your patients I find a possible client of the opium syndicate!”

“What! Malpas? Good God! I had not thought of that! Of course, he must retire somewhere from the ken of society to indulge in these opium orgies”…

“Quite so. I have hopes. Since it would never do for Sir Brian Malpas to know who I am and what I seek, a roundabout introduction is provided by kindly Providence—Ah! that good little angel of mine!—in the person of Mr. John Exel, M. P.”

“I will introduce you to Mr. Exel with pleasure.”

“Eh bien! Let it be arranged as soon as

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 ,” said M. Max. “To Mr. John Exel I will be, as to Miss Ryland (morbleu! I hate me!) and Miss Cumberly (pardieu! I loathe myself!), M. Gaston! It is ten o’clock, and already I hear your first patient ringing at the front-door bell. Good morning, Dr. Cumberly.”

Dr. Cumberly grasped his hand cordially.

“Good morning, M. Max!”

The famous detective was indeed retiring, when:

“M. Max!”

He turned—and looked into the troubled gray eyes of Dr. Cumberly.

“You would ask me where is she—Mrs. Leroux?” he said. “My friend—I may call you my friend, may I not?—I cannot say if she is living or is dead. Some little I know of the Chinese, quite a little; nom de dieu!…I hope she is dead!”…

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 Rh 3

Extract from a Letter from to. 27th December 1795.

... I have contemplated with pleasure the outline you was so good as to leave with Mrs. C. of the picture of Leonardo, and do not hesitate to pronounce it one of the most beautiful compositions I ever beheld of that great man. I hope it will not be long before I shall be able to request a sight of the picture. Why do you not get Blake to make an engraving of it? I should think he would be delighted to undertake such a work, and it would certainly pay him very well for whatever time and pains he may bestow upon such a plate, as we have so very few of Leonardo's works well engraved, and the composition of this picture is so very graceful and pleasing, I am convinced he might put almost any price on the print and assure himself of a very extensive sale. . ..


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ENISE RYLAND was lunching that day with Dr. Cumberly and his daughter at Palace Mansions; and as was usually the case when this trio met, the conversation turned upon the mystery.

“I have just seen Leroux,” said the physician, as he took his seat, “and I have told him that he must go for a drive to-morrow. I have released him from his room, and given him the run of the place again, but until he can get right away, complete recovery is impossible. A little cheerful company might be useful, though. You might look in and see him for a while, Helen?”

Helen met her father’s eyes, gravely, and replied, with perfect composure, “I will do so with pleasure. Miss Ryland will come with me.”

“Suppose,” said Denise Ryland, assuming her most truculent air, “you leave off…talking in that…frigid manner…my dear. Considering that Mira…Leroux and I were…old friends, and that you…are old friends of hers, too, and considering that I spend…my life amongst…people who very sensibly call…

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 one another…by their Christian names, forget that my name is Ryland, and call me…Denise!”

“I should love to!” cried Helen Cumberly; “in fact, I wanted to do so the very first time I saw you; perhaps because Mira Leroux always referred to you as Denise”…

“May I also avail myself of the privilege?” inquired Dr. Cumberly with gravity, “and may I hope that you will return the compliment?”

“I cannot…do it!” declared Denise Ryland, firmly. “A doctor…should never be known by any other name than…Doctor. If I heard any one refer to my own…physician as Jack or…Bill, or Dick…I should lose all faith in him at once!”

As the lunch proceeded, Dr. Cumberly gradually grew more silent, seeming to be employed with his own thoughts; and although his daughter and Denise Ryland were discussing the very matter that engaged his own attention, he took no part in the conversation for some time. Then:

“I agree with you!” he said, suddenly, interrupting Helen; “the greatest blow of all to Leroux was the knowledge that his wife had been deceiving him.”

“He invited…deceit!” proclaimed Denise Ryland, “by his…criminal neglect.”

“Oh! how can you say so!” cried Helen, turning her gray eyes upon the speaker reproachfully; “he deserves—”

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 “He certainly deserves to know the real truth,” concluded Dr. Cumberly; “but would it relieve his mind or otherwise?”

Denise Ryland and Helen looked at him in silent surprise.

“The truth?” began the latter—“Do you mean that you know—where she is”…

“If I knew that,” replied Dr. Cumberly, “I should know everything; the mystery of the Palace Mansions murder would be a mystery no longer. But I know one thing: Mrs. Leroux’s absence has nothing to do with any love affair.”

“What!” exclaimed Denise Ryland. “There isn’t another man…in the case? You can’t tell me”…

“But I do tell you!” said Dr. Cumberly; “I assure you.”

“And you have not told—Mr. Leroux?” said Helen incredulously. “You have not told him—although you know that the thought—of that is?”…

“Is practically killing him? No, I have not told him yet. For—would my news act as a palliative or as an irritant?”

“That depends,” pronounced Denise Ryland, “on the nature of…your news.”

“I suppose I have no right to conceal it from him. Therefore, we will tell him to-day. But although, beyond doubt, his mind will be relieved upon

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88 At Hyères the Maurette rises as a natural screen, facing the sun, banking out the north wind, with the crau of the Gapeau on one side, and the bed of the Gapeau on the other; and of course, those who go to the South for shelter would naturally, one would suppose, keep the screen between themselves and the Mistral. But not so. Settlers have thought they had done all that was required when they came to Hyères, and have built their villas, and extended the town to the north-west, precisely where there is no shelter at all, and there is full exposure to the blasts from the north. One great disadvantage to Hyères is the distance at which it stands from the sea. Hyères belonged originally to the family de Fos, which had the marquisate of Marseilles, an immense fief containing fifty towns, Marseilles, Solliés, Toulon, Hyères, Le Ciotat, Cassis, Aubagne, etc. But in 1257 it was ceded to Charles of Anjou, Count of Provence.

The importance of Hyères was due to its salt pans. The peninsula of Giens was undoubtedly at one time an island, one of the group that forms a chain, of which Porquerolles and l’Ile du Levant are the principal. But the currents round the coast threw up shingle beds and sealed it to the coast,forming an extensive natural lake of salt water between the two barriers, but with a gap in that to the east through which the sea water could flow. In this shallow lagoon salt was produced. The entrance could be closed, and the sun dried up the water in the basin, leaving the salt behind. At present, with our ready communication by rail, the importance and value of salt in ancient times can hardly be realised. In the centre of Gaul and of France in olden days men ravened for salt. It was to them what sweetstuff is

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 one point, the real facts are almost, if not quite, as bad.”

“I learnt, this morning,” he continued, lighting a cigarette, “certain facts which, had I been half as clever as I supposed myself, I should have deduced from the data already in my possession. I was aware, of course, that the unhappy victim—Mrs. Vernon—was addicted to the use of opium, and if a tangible link were necessary, it existed in the form of the written fragment which I myself took from the dead woman’s hand.”…

“A link!” said Denise Ryland.

“A link between Mrs. Vernon and Mrs. Leroux,” explained the physician. “You see, it had never occurred to me that they knew one another.”…

“And did they?” questioned his daughter, eagerly.

“It is almost certain that they were acquainted, at any rate; and in view of certain symptoms, which, without giving them much consideration, I nevertheless had detected in Mrs. Leroux, I am disposed to think that the bond of sympathy which existed between them was”…

He seemed to hesitate, looking at his daughter, whose gray eyes were fixed upon him intently, and then at Denise Ryland, who, with her chin resting upon her hands, and her elbows propped upon the table, was literally glaring at him.

“Opium!” he said.

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 A look of horror began slowly to steal over Helen Cumberly’s face; Denise Ryland’s head commenced to sway from side to side. But neither women spoke.

“By the courtesy of Inspector Dunbar,” continued Dr. Cumberly, “I have been enabled to keep in touch with the developments of the case, as you know; and he had noted as a significant fact that the late Mrs. Vernon’s periodical visits to Scotland corresponded, curiously, with those of Mrs. Leroux to Paris. I don’t mean in regard to date; although in one or two instances (notably Mrs. Vernon’s last journey to Scotland, and that of Mrs. Leroux to Paris), there was similarity even in this particular. A certain Mr. Debnam—the late Horace Vernon’s solicitor—placed an absurd construction upon this”…

“Do you mean,” interrupted Helen in a strained voice, “that he—insinuated that Mrs. Vernon”…

“He had an idea that she visited Leroux—yes,” replied her father hastily. “It was one of those absurd and irritating theories, which, instinctively, we know to be wrong, but which, if asked for evidence, we cannot hope to prove to be wrong.”

“It is outrageous!” cried Helen, her eyes flashing indignantly; “Mr. Debnam should be ashamed of himself!”

Dr. Cumberly smiled rather sadly.

“In this world,” he said, “we have to count with

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 the Debnams. One’s own private knowledge of a man’s character is not worth a brass farthing as legal evidence. But I am happy to say that Dunbar completely pooh-poohed the idea.”

“I like Inspector Dunbar!” declared Helen; “he is so strong—a splendid man!”

Denise Ryland stared at her cynically, but made no remark.

“The inspector and myself,” continued Dr. Cumberly, “attached altogether a different significance to the circumstances. I am pleased to tell you that Debnam’s unpleasant theories are already proved fallacious; the case goes deeper, far deeper, than a mere intrigue of that kind. In short, I am now assured—I cannot, unfortunately, name the source of my new information—but I am assured, that Mrs. Leroux, as well as Mrs. Vernon, was addicted to the opium vice.”…

“Oh, my God! how horrible!” whispered Helen.

“A certain notorious character,” resumed Dr. Cumberly…

“Soames!” snapped Denise Ryland. “Since I heard…that man’s name I knew him for…a villain…of the worst possible…description…imaginable.”

“Soames,” replied Dr. Cumberly, smiling slightly, “was one of the group, beyond doubt—for I may as well explain that we are dealing with an elaborate organization; but the chief member, to whom I have referred, is a greater one than Soames.

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 He is a certain shadowy being, known as Mr. King.”

“The name on the paper!” said Helen, quickly. “But of course the police have been looking for Mr. King all along?”

“In a general way—yes; but as we have thousands of Kings in London alone, the task is a stupendous one. The information which I received this morning narrows down the search immensely; for it points to Mr. King being the chief, or president, of a sort of opium syndicate, and, furthermore, it points to his being a Chinaman.”

“A Chinaman!” cried Denise and Helen together.

“It is not absolutely certain, but it is more than probable. The point is that Mrs. Leroux has not eloped with some unknown lover; she is in one of the opium establishments of Mr. King.”

“Do you mean that she is detained there?” asked Helen.

“It appears to me, now, to be certain that she is. My hypothesis is that she was an habitué of this place, as also was Mrs. Vernon. These unhappy women, by means of elaborate plans, made on their behalf by the syndicate, indulged in periodical opium orgies. It was a game well worth the candle, as the saying goes, from the syndicate’s standpoint; for Mrs. Leroux, alone, has paid no less than a thousand pounds to the opium group!”

“A thousand pounds!” cried Denise Ryland.

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 “You don’t mean to tell me that that…silly fool…of a man, Harry Leroux…has allowed himself to be swindled of…all that money?”

“There is not the slightest doubt about it,” Dr. Cumberly assured her; “he opened a credit to that amount in Paris, and the entire sum has been absorbed by Mr. King!”

“It’s almost incredible!” said Helen.

“I quite agree with you,” replied her father. “Of course, most people know that there are opium dens in London, as in almost every other big city, but the existence of these palatial establishments, conducted by Mr. King, although undoubtedly a fact, is a fact difficult to accept. It doesn’t seem possible that such a place can be conducted secretly; whereas I am assured that all the efforts of Scotland Yard thus far have failed to locate the site of the London branch.”

“But surely,” cried Denise Ryland, nostrils dilated indignantly, “some of the…customers of this…disgusting place…can be followed?”…

“The difficulty is to identify them,” explained Cumberly. “Opium smoking is essentially a secret vice; a man does not visit an opium den openly as he would visit his club; and the elaborate precautions adopted by the women are illustrated in the case of Mrs. Vernon, and in the case of Mrs. Leroux. It is a pathetic fact almost daily brought

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 home to me, that women who acquire a drug habit become more rapidly and more entirely enslaved by it than does a man. It becomes the center of the woman’s existence; it becomes her god: all other claims, social and domestic, are disregarded. Upon this knowledge, Mr. King has established his undoubtedly extensive enterprise.”…

Dr. Cumberly stood up.

“I will go down and see Leroux,” he announced quietly. “His sorrow hitherto has been secondary to his indignation. Possibly ignorance in this case is preferable to the truth, but nevertheless I am determined to tell him what I know. Give me ten minutes or so, and then join me. Are you agreeable?”

“Quite,” said Helen.

Dr. Cumberly departed upon his self-imposed mission.

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OME ten minutes later, Helen Cumberly and Denise Ryland were in turn admitted to Henry Leroux’s flat. They found him seated on a couch in his dining-room, wearing the inevitable dressing-gown. Dr. Cumberly, his hands clasped behind him, stood looking out of the window.

Leroux’s pallor now was most remarkable; his complexion had assumed an ivory whiteness which lent his face a sort of statuesque beauty. He was cleanly shaven (somewhat of a novelty), and his hair was brushed back from his brow. But the dark blue eyes were very tragic.

He rose at sight of his new visitors, and a faint color momentarily tinged his cheeks. Helen Cumberly grasped his outstretched hand, then looked away quickly to where her father was standing.

“I almost thought,” said Leroux, “that you had deserted me.”

“No,” said Helen, seeming to speak with an effort—“we—my father, thought—that you needed quiet.”

Denise Ryland nodded grimly.

“But now,” she said, in her most truculent

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, “we are going to…drag you out of…your morbid…self…for a change…which you need…if ever a man…needed it.”

“I have just prescribed a drive,” said Dr. Cumberly, turning to them, “for to-morrow morning; with lunch at Richmond and a walk across the park, rejoining the car at the Bushey Gate, and so home to tea.”

Henry Leroux looked eagerly at Helen in silent appeal. He seemed to fear that she would refuse.

“Do you mean that you have included us in the prescription, father?” she asked.

“Certainly; you are an essential part of it.”

“It will be fine,” said the girl quietly; “I shall enjoy it.”

“Ah!” said Leroux, with a faint note of contentment in his voice; and he reseated himself.

There was an interval of somewhat awkward silence, to be broken by Denise Ryland.

“Dr. Cumberly has told you the news?” she asked, dropping for the moment her syncopated and pugnacious manner.

Leroux closed his eyes and leant back upon the couch.

“Yes,” he replied. “And to think that I am a useless wreck—a poor parody of a man—whilst—Mira is…Oh, God! help me!—God help her!”

He was visibly contending with his emotions; and

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 Helen Cumberly found herself forced to turn her head aside.

“I have been blind,” continued Leroux, in a forced, monotonous voice. “That Mira has not—deceived me, in the worst sense of the word, is in no way due to my care of her. I recognize that, and I accept my punishment; for I deserved it. But what now overwhelms me is the knowledge, the frightful knowledge, that in a sense I have misjudged her, that I have remained here inert, making no effort, thinking her absence voluntary, whilst—God help her!—she has been”…

“Once again, Leroux,” interrupted Dr. Cumberly, “I must ask you not to take too black a view. I blame myself more than I blame you, for having failed to perceive what as an intimate friend I had every opportunity to perceive; that your wife was acquiring the opium habit. You have told me that you count her as dead”—he stood beside Leroux, resting both hands upon the bowed shoulders—“I have not encouraged you to change that view. One who has cultivated—the—vice, to a point where protracted absences become necessary—you understand me?—is, so far as my experience goes”…

“Incurable! I quite understand,” jerked Leroux. “A thousand times better dead, indeed.”

“The facts as I see them,” resumed the physician, “as I see them, are these: by some fatality, at present inexplicable, a victim of the opium syndicate met

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 her death in this flat. Realizing that the inquiries brought to bear would inevitably lead to the cross-examination of Mrs. Leroux, the opium syndicate has detained her; was forced to detain her.”

“Where is the place,” began Leroux, in a voice rising higher with every syllable—“where is the infamous den to which—to which”…

Dr. Cumberly pressed his hands firmly upon the speaker’s shoulders.

“It is only a question of time, Leroux,” he said, “and you will have the satisfaction of knowing that—though at a great cost to yourself—this dreadful evil has been stamped out, that this yellow peril has been torn from the heart of society. Now, I must leave you for the present; but rest assured that everything possible is being done to close the nets about Mr. King.”

“Ah!” whispered Leroux, “Mr. King!”

“The circle is narrowing,” continued the physician. “I may not divulge confidences; but a very clever man—the greatest practical criminologist in Europe—is devoting the whole of his time, night and day, to this object.”

Helen Cumberly and Denise Ryland exhibited a keen interest in the words, but Leroux, with closed eyes, merely nodded in a dull way. Shortly, Dr. Cumberly took his departure, and, Helen looking at her companion interrogatively:—

“I think,” said Denise Ryland, addressing Leroux, “that you should not over-tax your strength

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 at present.” She walked across to where he sat, and examined some proofslips lying upon the little table beside the couch. “‘Martin Zeda,’” she said, with a certain high disdain. “Leave ‘Martin Zeda’ alone for once, and read a really cheerful book!”

Leroux forced a smile to his lips.

“The correction of these proofs,” he said diffidently, “exacts no great mental strain, but is sufficient to—distract my mind. Work, after all, is nature’s own sedative.”

“I rather agree with Mr. Leroux, Denise,” said Helen;—“and really you must allow him to know best.”

“Thank you,” said Leroux, meeting her eyes momentarily. “I feared that I was about to be sent to bed like a naughty boy!”

“I hope it’s fine to-morrow,” said Helen rapidly. “A drive to Richmond will be quite delightful.”

“I think, myself,” agreed Leroux, “that it will hasten my recovery to breathe the fresh air once again.”

Knowing how eagerly he longed for health and strength, and to what purpose, the girl found something very pathetic in the words.

“I wish you were well enough to come out this afternoon,” she said; “I am going to a private view at Olaf van Noord’s studio. It is sure to be an extraordinary afternoon. He is the god of the Soho futurists, you know. And his pictures are the weirdest nightmares imaginable. One always meets

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 56 4.

To , 22rd December 1796.

,—I have lately had some pricks of conscience on account of not acknowledging your friendship to me immediately on the receipt of your beautiful book. I have likewise had by me all the summer six plates which you desired me to get made for you. They have laid on my shelf, without speaking to tell me whose they were, or that they were at all, and it was some time (when I found them) before I could divine whence they came or whither they were bound, or whether they were to lie there to eternity. I have now sent them to you to be transmuted, thou real alchymist!

Go on! Go on! Such works as yours Nature and Providence, the eternal parents, demand from their children. How few produce them in such perfection! How nature smiles on them; how Providence rewards them; how all your brethren say: "The sound of his harp and his flute heard from his secret forest cheers us to the labours of life, and we plow and reap, forgetting our labour."


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 such singular people there, too, and I am honored in receiving an invitation to represent the Planet!”

“I consider,” said Denise Ryland, head wagging furiously again, “that the man is…mad. He had an exhibition…in Paris…and everybody…laughed at him…simply laughed at him.”

“But financially, he is very successful,” added Helen.

“Financially!” exclaimed Denise Ryland, “Financially! To criticize a man’s work…financially, is about as…sensible as…to judge the Venus…de Milo…by weight!—or to sell the works…of Leonardo…da Vinci by the…yard! Olaf van Noord is nothing but…a fool…of the worst possible…description…imaginable.”

“He is at least an entertaining fool!” protested Helen, laughingly.

“A mountebank!” cried Denise Ryland; “a clown…a pantaloon…a whole family of…idiots…rolled into one!”

“It seems unkind to run away and leave you here—in your loneliness,” said Helen to Leroux; “but really I must be off to the wilds of Soho.”…

“To-morrow,” said Leroux, standing up and fixing his eyes upon her lingeringly, “will be a red-letter day. I have no right to complain, whilst such good friends remain to me—such true friends.”…

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Rh now to children. They would sell anything to provide themselves with this condiment. Conceive for a moment what our tables would be without the salt-cellar; how flat, how insipid would be our meals. Dr. Schweinfurt, in his Travels in the Heart of Africa, describes the loathsome parasitic growths in the intestines of the cattle due to the absence of salt. It is a necessity for man and beast. Our storms carry some and deposit it on the grass; but we live in an island. What intestinal troubles must those men have endured who were deprived of it! Well, the lagoon of Giens furnished a large amount, and there were other salt-pans— as there are still, on the eastern side of Hyères. These made the town to flourish. Salt was the main production and source of wealth. Near the Château de Carqueyranne, in the lap of the Bay of Giens, are the ruins of a Greco-Roman town, Pomponiana. It stretched from the beach up the hill crowned by the remnants of the Convent of S. Pierre a' Al-Manar. The old town was explored in 1843 by Prince Frederick, afterwards King Frederick VII. of Denmark. He laid bare the Acropolis, baths, cisterns, store-houses, and a mole for the protection of the galleys that entered the harbour. Most of what was then laid open has since been covered over, but the whole ground is so strewn with pottery that the peasants have to clear their fields of it as an incumbrance. The ruined convent above was occupied by Sisters of the Benedictine Order. It was fortified, and exercised feudal authority over the land around. In the event of danger, the convent bell summoned the tenants to its aid. But one winter night a frolicsome nun rang the

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 Rh Let us see you sometimes as well as sometimes hear from you, and let us often see your works.

Compliments to Mrs. Cumberland and family.

—Yours in head and heart,.

A merry Christmas.

5.

To the Revd. Dr..

,

16th August 1799.

,—I find more and more that my style of designing is a species by itself, and in this which I send you have been compelled by my Genius or Angel to follow where he led; if I were to act otherwise it would not fulfil the purpose for which alone I live, which is, in conjunction with such men as my friend Cumberland, to renew the lost art of the Greeks.


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90 bell for the fun of the thing, and when the vassals arrived, laughed at them for allowing themselves to be fooled from their beds. This prank cost the convent dear, for shortly after a Moorish corsair put into the bay, and the convent was attacked. The alarm bell was sounded in vain; no one answered the summons, and before morning the house was sacked, and the nuns had been carried away, to be sold as slaves in Africa. A curious condition of affairs existed at Hyères during the troubles of the League.

The Count de Retz, Grand Marshal of France, was Governor of Provence, and the Count de Carces was its Grand Sénéchal. The jealousy of these two men gave birth to a deplorable rivalry, which placed each at the head of a different party. De Retz supported the Huguenots, and the Catholic party took Carces as its headpiece; and the factions called themselves, or were called, Razats and Carcists long after the men whose names they had adopted had disappeared from the scene. The rancour of each party did not abate, even when plague devastated the province. Then confusion grew worse confounded when the League was formed, due to the death of the Duke of Anjou, brother of Henry III., which made Henry of Navarre, a Calvinist, heir to the throne. The most extreme Carcists, alarmed at the prospect of the succession falling to a Huguenot, formed the plan of inviting the Duke of Savoy to take Provence. The anarchy in the country became intolerable, and large bodies of peasants and mechanics armed and fell on the forces of Carcists and Razats indifferently, routed and butchered them. In 1586 the town of Hyères was staunch in its

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 58 I attempted every morning for a fortnight together to follow your dictate, but when I found my attempts were in vain, resolved to show an independence which I know will please an author better than slavishly following the track of another, however admirable that track may be. At any rate, my excuse must be—I could not do otherwise; it was out of my power!

I know I begged of you to give me your ideas, and promised to build on them. Here I counted without my host. I now find my mistake!

The design I have sent is:

A father, taking leave of his wife and child, is watched by two fiends incarnate, with intention that when his back is turned they will murder the mother and her infant. If this is not Malevolence with a vengeance, I have never seen it on earth; and if you approve of this, I have no doubt of giving you Benevolence with equal vigour, as also Pride and Humility, but cannot previously describe in words what I mean to design, for fear I should evaporate the spirit of my invention.


text:
Author:Georges Sagnac

Works

 * The demonstration of the luminiferous aether by an interferometer in uniform rotation (1913, Wikisource translation)
 * On the proof of the reality of the luminiferous aether by the experiment with a rotating interferometer (1913, Wikisource translation)

title: Author:Georges Sagnac