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 many snakes these are spiny and hard, but according to Leydig this hardness is not due to a horny substance but to the deposition of calcifying matter. E. D. Cope has investigated the almost endless minor modifications of these penial features and uses them for taxonomic purposes in the snakes. Vestiges of these organs occur in females of snakes and lizards. Close to these organs of the snakes lies a pair of anal glands of some size, which pour their very offensive secretion through an opening close to the base of each penis. The same glands occur in the same position in Sphenodon, which has no copulatory organs, and in crocodiles they appear as revertible musk glands. Hence J. E. V. Boas, not knowing of their existence in both sexes of snakes, tried to homologize them with the paired penes of reptiles, an error which has been repeated in C. Gegenbaur's Lehrbuch, vol. ii. p. 533.

The crocodiles and tortoises possess a single, median copulatory organ; it lies on the ventral or anterior end of the cloaca, the outer opening of which is therefore a longitudinal slit, hence the term ucthotremata. In the crocodiles the organ is attached to the caudal corner of the ischiadic symphysis by a strong and roundish fibrous band, which arises single from the ventral sides and forms partly the continuation of the two fibrous halves of the organ; the bulk of the crura, comparable to corpora cavernosa, is not attached to the pelvis, as generally stated, but projects backwards towards and into the pelvic cavity. This portion is especially rich in venous cavernosities. The outer coating of the glans possesses various papillary projections, which are furnished with sensory, hedonic corpuscles. On the morphologically dorsal side of the organ, not on the dorsum penis, is a deep groove which ends towards the crura in a blind sac, into the farther corner of which open the vasa deferentia. In a full-grown Nile crocodile the whole organ is about 10 in. long. In young females up to a total length of 3 or 4 ft. the clitoris is nearly of the same size as the male organ, but it remains stationary and appears very small in large specimens.

The organ of the tortoises is essentially of the same type as that of the crocodiles, but it is nowhere directly attached to the pelvis or to any other skeletal part. The whole organ, when withdrawn, lies in a ventral, long recess of the wide outer cloacal chamber, and its crura extend so far back as to form the continuation of the ventral and lateral walls of the recessus which is continued into the neck of the urinary bladder. Its orifice and those of the seminal ducts are enclosed by the walls of the deep groove which runs along the underside of the organ. This is always of considerable size, surprisingly large in Trionyx. The clitoris is small, sometimes tiny.

The sexual act is extremely prolonged in Chelonians and still more so are the preliminaries, but in crocodiles it is the deed of a few seconds. Lizards and snakes insert only one side.

There remains the question whether the unpaired organ of the crocodiles and tortoises, which is the prototype of the mammalian organ in every essential point, and the paired organs of the lizards and snakes, are to a certain extent homologous organs in so far as they can both be derived from the same indifferent condition. With this view we assume that originally the protrusile walls of the outer cloacal chamber became specialized into a right and left imperfect intromittent organ, that subsequently, in lizards, those hemipenes were shifted back towards the tail and were henceforth bound to develop separately, while in the crocodiles, tortoises, mammals and birds the two primitive lateral evertile flaps approached each other towards the ventral anterior side of the cloaca, and that this led to a fusion, beginning probably at the basal part, which at the same time was farther withdrawn from the surface and secured the reception of the sperma from both vasa deferentia into one canal. This hypothesis has been objected to by Boas, but accepted by Gegenbaur (p. 538) after having been rejected on p. 533 of his Lehrbuch.

The Fat bodies belong at least physiologically to the generative system. They are placed outside the peritoneum. In

lizards they appear as two masses in the pelvic region, the black peritoneal lining covering only their dorsal side. They consist of a network of arteries and connective tissue, the meshy spaces of which are filled with “fat”; they each receive an artery from the femoral vessel which enters them in the inguinal region; the veins collect into the abdominal. In snakes the fat bodies are very long, extending from the cloaca to the liver. Tortoises seem to have only traces of them, but in Sphenodon and in crocodiles they resemble those of lizards.—The peculiar organ suspended from the right abdominal wall of crocodiles, variously mentioned as mesenteric gland or body, or fatty spleen, by Butler, is possibly related to the same category. The fat bodies of reptiles are sometimes vaguely alluded to as hibernating bodies; like the fat bodies which are attached to the generative glands of Amphibia they do not become reduced during the eventual hibernation but are largest before the pairing season, by the end of which they are exhausted, looking reddish or grey after the loss of their stores of fat and probably other important contents.

Fertilization of the egg always takes place internally, and the egg containing a large amount of food-yolk is of course meroblastic. It is sufficient to mention that many lizards, some chameleons and many snakes (not Sphenodon, geckos, crocodiles and Chelonians) retain their, in these cases very thin-shelled, eggs in the oviducts until the embryo is ready to burst the egg-membrane during the act of parturition or immediately after it. Such species are usually called ovoviviparous, although there is no difference between them and other viviparous creatures, for instance the marsupials. The majority of reptiles are oviparous and the egg is enclosed in a strong parchment shell, with or without calcareous deposits. Only gas exchange can take place between such an egg and the outside, and it loses by evaporation, whilst in the batrachian egg various other exchanges are easy through the thin membrane. The salamander embryo, within its thin egg-membrane, even grows to a size many times larger than the original egg, it does not only breathe, but it is also nourished through the gills, and by some means or other the waste products are partly eliminated without filling the bladder. The amphibia are born as larvae and live as such for a long time, often in a most imperfect condition. Nothing of all this applies to the reptile, which leaves the egg as a perfect little imago. A great amount of yolk supplying the material, and a large “bladder” to receive the waste products and to act as respiratory organ, have made this possible. That the allantois and the amnion behave precisely in the same way in the mammals with their much reduced yolk, only testifies to the superior value of these organs, and after all there is no difference in this respect between a monotreme and a reptile. These two organs seem to have come into existence with the reptiles and constitute the most reliable diagnostic feature between higher and lower vertebrates. All reptiles, birds and mammals have a navel, a feature unknown and impossible in Batrachia and fishes. A few remarks on these important embryonic organs may not be superfluous, especially concerning their possible origin.

Whilst the urinary bladder of the Batrachia remains within the body throughout the embryonic stage, this organ undergoes in the higher vertebrates, reptiles, birds and mammals, considerable modifications, and it assumes, henceforth as Allantois, new important functions besides that of being the receptacle of the embryonic urine. The development of the Allantois is in intimate causal connexion with that of the Amnion. All the Allantoidea are also Amniota and vice versa, but the term Amniota is preferable, since the basal portion of the Allantois remains in the adult as the urinary bladder, as an organ henceforth equivalent to and homologous with that of the Anamnia. The primary feature seems to be the allantois which leaves the body cavity, remains without the amniotic folds, even after these have enclosed the body within the amniotic bag, and

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 formations, but all the Jurassic and some of the Cretaceous genera have the secondary bony plate less extended backwards than that in the Tertiary and existing genera, while their vertebrae have flattened or concave ends, instead of exhibiting a balland-socket articulation. Some of the Upper Jurassic crocodiles (Metriorhynchus) were more truly aquatic than any now living, with the fore limbs degenerate, the hind limbs much enlarged for swimming, and the dermal armour lacking. The end of the vertebral column is bent downwards, as in Ichthyosaurus, so they doubtless possessed a similar triangular tail-fin. Typical crocodiles and alligators date back to the close of the Cretaceous period, and they did not become extinct in Europe until the beginning of the Miocene period. Remains of an extinct alligator (Diplocynodon) are common in the Upper Eocene sands of the Hordwell cliffs, Hampshire.

9.—Pterodactylus spectabilis, natural size, from the Lithographic Stone. h, humerus; ru, radius and ulna; mc, metacarpals; pt, pteroid bone; 2, 3, 4, digits with claws; 5, elongated digit for support of wing-membrane; st, sternum, crest not shown; is, ischium; pp, prepubis. The teeth are not shown. (After H. von Meyer.)

Order 8. —The flying reptiles or Pterodactyls (fig. 9) are completely evolved at their earliest known appearance in the Lower Lias (Dimorphodon), and exhibit little essential change as they are traced upwards through the Mesozoic formations. The latest Cretaceous genera, however, comprise the largest species, which have been found in Europe, N. America and Brazil. Some of these (Pteranodon) are toothless, and their wings are so large that for adequate support the pectoral arch is fixed to the vertebrae like a pelvis. The wings occasionally have a span of from 5 to 6 metres. The wing-membranes are only known in the European Jurassic genus, Rhamphorhynchus (fig. 10), found well preserved in the fine-grained lithographic stone of Bavaria. In this genus there is also a rhomboidal flap of membrane at the end of the tail.

10.—Rhamphorhynchus phyllurus, from the Solenhofen Lithographic Stone, about ¼ natural size, with the greater part of the wing-membranes preserved. x, caudal membrane; st, sternum; h, humerus; sc, scapula and coracoid; wm, wing-membrane. (After O. C. Marsh.)

Order 9. —The ancestors of the lizards and snakes can only be traced back definitely to the latter part of the Cretaceous period. They were then represented by two suborders of aquatic reptiles, the Dolichosauria and Pythonomorpha (or Mosasauria), which are in many respects intermediate between the existing Lacertilia and Ophidia. The Dolichosauria, from the Upper Cretaceous of Europe, are small and snake-like

in shape, but with completely formed limbs. The Pythonomorpha are known from Europe, N. and S. America and New Zealand, and sometimes attained a very large size, the typical Mosasaurus camperi from Maastricht being about 15 metres in length. Their limbs are powerful paddles. Their trunk and tail are often much elongated, so that their shape is snake-like, as shown by Clidastes (fig. 11), from the Chalk of Kansas, U.S.A. The Lacertilia and Ophidia, so far as known, are exclusively Tertiary and Recent reptiles. Marine snakes (Palaeophis) occur in the Eocene of the London and Hampshire basins.

.—General Works on Extinct Reptiles.—K. A. v. Zittel, Handbuch der Palaeontologie, vol. iii. (Munich, 1887-1889).—H. A. Nicholson and R. Lydekker, Manual of Palaeontology, vol. ii. (Edinburgh, 1889).—R. Lydekker, Catalogue of the Fossil Reptilia and Amphibia in the British Museum, vols. i.—iv. (London, 1888-90).—A. S. Woodward, Outlines of Vertebrate Palaeontology (Cambridge, 1898).—K. A. v. Zittel, Text-book of Palaeontology, ed. C. R. Eastman, vol. ii. (London, 1902). Anomodontia: R. Owen, Catalogue of the Fossil Reptilia of South Africa in the Collection of the British Museum (London, 1876).—E. D. Cope, “The Reptilian Order Cotylosauria,” ''Proc. Amer. Phil. Soc.'' vol. xxxiv. (1896), p. 436, and vol. xxxv. (1896), p. 122.—E. T. Newton, “Some New Reptiles from the Elgin Sandstones,” ''Phil. Trans., vol. 184 (1893), p. 431.—Various papers by R. Owen in Quart. Journ. Geol. Soc.'', 1876-1884, by H. G. Seeley in ''Phil. Trans.'' (1889-1895), and by R. Broom in ''Proc. Zool. Soc., Ann. S. African Museum and Trans. S. African'' ''Phil. Soc.'' (from 1900 onwards). Chelonia: G. Baur, “Bemerkungen über die Phylogenie der Schildkröten,” ''Anat. Anzeiger'', vol. xii. (1896), p. 561.—Technical papers by F. A. Quenstedt in Württ. Jahresh. vol. xlv. (1889), p. 120 (Proganochelys).—G. R. Wieland in ''Amer. Journ. Sci.'' ser. 4, vol. ii. (1896), p. 399 (gigantic Cretaceous leathery turtle), and E. C. Case, ''Journ. Morphol.'' vol. xiv. (1897),

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 It is important to note that in all the Bryophyta and in some of the Pteridophyta (most of the Filicinae, all existing Equisetinae, and the Lycopodiaceae and Psilotaceae) there is but one kind of sporangium and spore, the plants being homosporous or isosporous, whereas the rest of the Pteridophyta (Hydropterideae, Selaginellaceae) and the Phanerogams are heterosporous, having sporangia of two kinds; some produce one or a few large spores (megaspores), and are hence termed megasporangia, while others give rise to a larger number of small spores (microspores) and are hence termed microsporangia. In the Phanerogams the two kinds of sporangia have received special names: the megasporangium, which produces as a rule only one mature spore (embryo-sac), is termed the ovule; the microsporangium, which produces a large number of microspores (pollen-grains), is termed the pollen-sac.

The development of spores, except in the simpler Thallophyta, is more or less restricted to definite parts of the body. Thus in the Red Algae (Florideae) there are the organs known as stichidia, nemathecia. In the fungi the number and variety of such organs is very great; they may be described generally as simple and compound sporophores: but for a description the article should be consulted. In the higher plants the organs are less various. In the Bryophyta the production of spores is restricted to the sporogonium. In the vascular plants (Pteridophyta, Phanerogams) the development of sporangia, speaking generally, is confined to the leaves. In most ferns the sporangiferous leaves (sporophylls) do not differ in appearance from the foliage leaves; but in other Pteridophyta (Equisetaceæ, Marsiliaceae, some species of Lycopodium and Selaginella) they present considerable adaptation, and notably in the Phanerogams. In the Phanerogams the specialization is so great that the sporophylls have received special names; those which bear the microsporangia (pollen-sacs) are termed the stamens, and those which bear the megasporangia (ovules) are termed the carpels. The sporophylls are usually aggregated together on a short stem, forming a shoot that constitutes a flower.

Many terms are employed to indicate the nature of the various kinds of spores, especially among the fungi, but the endless varieties of asexual (and asexually produced) reproductive cells may be grouped under two heads—(1) Gonidia, (2) Spores proper.

The distinction between these two kinds of asexual reproductive cells is as follows.

The gonidium is a reproductive cell that gives rise, on germination, to an organism resembling the parent. For instance, among the algae, the “zoospore” of Vaucheria develops into a Vaucheria-plant. There is thus a close connexion between vegetative multiplication and multiplication by means of gonida. The production of gonida is entirely limited to the Thallophyta, and is especially marked in the fungi, though the nature of all the many kinds of reproductive cells formed in this group has not yet been fully investigated. It is, however, wanting in certain algae (Conjugatae, Fucaceae, Characeae) and fungi (some Peronosporeae and Ascomycetes).

The spore proper is a reproductive cell that as a rule gives rise, on germination, to an organism unlike that which produced it. For instance, the spore of a fern when it germinates gives rise, not to a fern-plant, but to a prothallium. The apparent exceptions to this rule occur only among the Thallophyta, and are explained below in the section on Life-history.

The true spore is developed, usually in a sporangium, after a process of division which presents certain features that call for special notice.

Observation of the process of division of the nucleus (karyokinesis) in plants generally has shown (for details see ) that the linin-reticulum of the resting nucleus breaks up into a definite number of segments, the chromosomes, each of which bears a series of minute bodies, the chromatin-disks or chromomeres, consisting largely of a substance termed chromatin. In the ordinary homotype divisions of the nuclei the characteristic number of chromosomes is always observable; but when the spore-mother-cells are being formed the number of chromosomes

is reduced to one-half. This, if the number of chromosomes of the parent plant be expressed as 2x the number in the spore will be x. To take a concrete case: it has been observed by Guignard and others that in the early divisions taking place in the developing anther and ovule of the lily the number of chromosomes is 24; whereas in the later divisions which give rise to the pollen-mother-cells in the one case and to the mother cell of the embryo-sac in the other, the number of chromosomes is only 12. Thus the development of a spore (as distinguished from a gonidium) is always preceded by a reducing- or heterotype-division, a process now more generally termed meiosis (Farmer). The reduced number of chromosomes in the nucleus of the spore-mother-cell persists in the spore, and in all the cells of the organism to which the spore may give rise. (Meiosis is discussed below in the section on Sexual Reproduction.)

It should be explained that cells, to which the name “spore” has also been applied, are formed as the result of a sexual act: such are zygospores, oospores, and some carpospores. But these cells differ from spores proper not only in their mode of origin but also in that their nuclei contain the full double number (2x) of chromosomes; hence they may be distinguished as diplospores.

Sexual Reproduction.—Sexual reproduction involves the development of sexual organs (gametangia) and sexual cells (gametes). When the organism is unicellular, as in the lower Green Algae (e.g. Protococcaceae, Conjugatae), the cell becomes a sexual organ and its whole protoplasm gives rise to one or more sexual cells: in the higher forms certain parts of the body are specialized as sexual organs. In many of the lower plants the organs present no external distinction of sex (e.g. lower Green Algae: the Chytridiaceae, Mucorinae, and some Ascomycetes among the fungi): it is impossible to distinguish between the male and female organs, although it cannot be doubted that the essential physiological difference exists; consequently the organs are merely described as gametangia. The gap between these plants and those with differentiated sexual organs is, however, bridged over by intermediate forms, as explained in the article.

When the sexual organs are more or less obviously differentiated into male and female, they present considerable variety of form in different groups of plants, and accordingly bear different names. Thus the male organ is a pollinodium in most of the fungi, a spermogonium in others (certain Ascomycetes, Uredineae); in all other plants it is an antheridium. Similarly the female organ is an oogonium in various Thallophyta (Green and Brown Algae: Oomycetous Fungi); a procarp in the Red Algae; an archicarp in certain Ascomycetous Fungi and in the Uredineae; an archegonium in all the higher plants.

It is generally the case that the protoplasm of the sexual organ is differentiated into one or more sexual cells. Thus the gametangium usually gives rise to cells which, as they are externally similar, are termed isogametes or simply gametes. Certain forms of the male organ, the spermogonium and the antheridium, give rise to male cells which are termed spermatia when they are non-ciliate, spermatozoids when they are ciliated and free-swimming. Again, the female organs termed oogonia and archegonia produce one or more female cells called oospheres. But there are important exceptions to this rule. Thus the protoplasm is not differentiated into cells in the gametangium of the Mucorinae; in the male organ (pollinodium), of fungi generally; and in the female organ (procarp) of the Red Algae and (archicarp) of the Ascomycetes and Uredineae.

The immediate product of the fusion of cells, or of undifferentiated protoplasm, derived from sexual organs of opposite sex may be generally termed the zygote; but it is not always of the same kind. Thus when two isogametes, or the undifferentiated contents of two gametangia, fuse together, the process is designated conjugation, and the product is usually a single cell termed zygospore. When an oosphere fuses with a male cell, or with the undifferentiated contents of a male organ, the process is fertilization, and the product is a single cell termed oospore. When, finally, a female organ with undifferentiated contents receives a male cell, the process again is fertilization; here the

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Rh be central in the World-Island, then the hill citadel of Jerusalem has a strategical position with reference to world-realities not differing essentially from its ideal position in the perspective of the Middle Ages, or its strategical position between ancient Babylon and Egypt. As the War has shown, the Suez Canal carries the rich traffic between the Indies and Europe to within striking distance of an army based on Palestine, and already the trunk railway is being built through the coastal plain by Jaffa, which will connect the Southern with the Northern Heartland. Who owns Damascus, moreover, will have flank access to the alternative route between the oceans down the Euphrates Valley. It cannot be wholly a coincidence that in the self-same region should be the starting point of History and the crossing point of the most vital of modern highways.

In the dawn of History we find the children of Shem, the Semites, conquering the cultivated margins of the Arabian deserts; there is no small similarity between the ring of their settlements round the sea of sand, and


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 1453. René had the confidence of Charles VII., and is said to have initiated the reduction of the men-at-arms set on foot by the king, with whose military operations against the English he was closely associated. He entered Rouen with him in November 1449, and was also with him at Formigny and Caen. After his second marriage with Jeanne de Laval, daughter of Guy XIV., count of Laval, and Isabel of Brittany, René took a less active part in public affairs, and devoted himself more to artistic and literary pursuits. The fortunes of his house declined in his old age. The duke of Calabria, after repeated misfortunes in Italy, was offered the crown of Aragon in 1467, but died, apparently by poison, at Barcelona on the 16th of December 1470; the duke's eldest son Nicholas perished in 1473, also under suspicion of poisoning; René's daughter Margaret was a refugee from England, her son Prince Edward was murdered in 1471, and she herself became a prisoner, to be rescued by Louis XI. in 1476. His only surviving male descendant was then René II., duke of Lorraine, son of his daughter Yolande, comtesse de Vaudémont, who was gained over to the party of Louis XI., who suspected the king of Sicily of complicity with his enemies, the duke of Brittany and the Constable Saint-Pol. René retired to Provence, and in 1474 made a will by which he left Bar to his grandson René II., duke of Lorraine; Anjou and Provence to his nephew Charles, count of Le Maine. Louis seized Anjou and Bar, and two years later sought to compel the king of Sicily to exchange the two duchies for a pension. The offer was rejected, but further negotiations assured the lapse to the crown of the duchy of Anjou, and the annexation of Provence was only postponed until the death of the count of Le Maine. René died on the 10th of July 1480, his charities having earned for him the title of “the good.” He founded an order of chivalry, the Ordre du Croissant, which was anterior to the royal foundation of St Michael, but did not survive René.

The king of Sicily's fame as an amateur of painting has led to the attribution to him of many old paintings in Anjou and Provence, in many cases simply because they bear his arms. These works are generally in the Flemish style, and were probably executed under his patronage and direction, so that he may be said to have formed a school of the fine arts in sculpture, painting, gold work and tapestry. Two of the most famous works formerly attributed to René are the triptych, the “Burning Bush,” in the cathedral of Aix, showing portraits of René and his second wife, Jeanne de Laval, and an illuminated Book of Hours in the Bibliothéque nationale, Paris. The “Burning Bush” was in fact the work of Nicolas Froment, a painter of Avignon. Among the men of letters attached to his court was Antoine de la Sale, whom he made tutor to his son, the duke of Calabria. He encouraged the performance of mystery plays; on the performance of a mystery of the Passion at Saumur in 1462 he remitted four years of taxes to the town, and the representations of the Passion at Angers were carried out under his auspices. He exchanged verses with his kinsman, the poet Charles of Orleans. The best of his poems is the idyl of Regnault and Jeanneton, representing his own courtship of Jeanne de Laval. Le Livre des tournois, a book of ceremonial, and the allegorical romance, Conqueste qu'un chevalier nommé le Cuer d'amour espris feist d'une dame appelée Doulce Mercy, with other works ascribed to him, were perhaps dictated to his secretaries, or at least compiled under his direction. His Œuvres were published by the comte de Quatrebarbes (4 vols., Paris and Angers, 1845~46).

 RENÉE OF FRANCE (1510–1575), second daughter of Louis XII. and Anne of Brittany, was born at Blois on the 25th of October 1510. After being betrothed successively to Gaston de Foix, Charles of Austria (the future emperor Charles V.), his brother Ferdinand, Henry VIII. of England, and the elector Joachim II. of Brandenburg, she married in 1528 Hercules of Este, son of the duke of Ferrara, who succeeded his father six years later. Renée's court became a rendezvous of men of letters and a refuge for the persecuted French Calvinists. She received Clément Marot and Calvin at her court, and finally embraced the reformed religion. Her husband, however, who viewed these proceedings with disfavour, banished her friends, took her children from her, threw her into prison, and eventually made her abandon at any rate the outward forms of Calvinism. After his death in 1559, Renée returned to France and turned her duchy of Montargis into a centre of Protestant propaganda. During the wars of religion she was several times molested by the Catholic troops, and in 1562 her château was besieged by her son-in-law, the duke of Guise. She died at Montargis.

 RENEVIER, EUGÈNE (1831–), Swiss geologist, was born at Lausanne on the 26th of March 1831. In 1857 he became professor of geology and palaeontology in the university at Lausanne. He is distinguished for his researches on the geology and palaeontology of the Alps, on which subjects he published numerous papers in the proceedings of the scientific societies in Switzerland and France. With F. J. Pictet he wrote a memoir on the Fossiles du terrain aptien de la Perle-du-Rhone (1854). In 1894 he was appointed president of the Swiss Geological Commission, and also of the International Geological Congress held that year at Zürich, in the previous meetings of which he had taken a prominent part. He published a noteworthy Tableau des terrains sédimentaires (1874); and a second more elaborate edition, accompanied by an explanatory article Chronographe géologique, was issued in 1897 as a supplement to the Report of the Zürich Congress. This new table was printed on coloured sheets, the colours for each geological system corresponding with those adopted on the International geological map of Europe.

 RENFREW, a royal, municipal and police burgh and county town of Renfrewshire, Scotland, near the southern bank of the Clyde, 7 m. W. by N. of Glasgow, via Cardonald, by the Glasgow & South-Western and Caledonian railways (5 m. by road). Pop. (1891) 6777; (1901) 9296. Industries include shipbuilding (the construction of dredgers and floating docks is a speciality), engineering, dyeing, weaving, chemicals and cabinetmaking. The Clyde trust has constructed a large dock here. Renfrew belongs to the Kilmarnock district group of parliamentary burghs (with Kilmarnock, Dumbarton, Rutherglen and Port Glasgow). Robert III. gave a charter in 1396, but it was a burgh (Renifry) at least 250 years earlier. About 1160 Walter Fitzalan, the first high steward of Scotland, built a castle on an eminence by the side of the Clyde (still called Castle Hill), the original seat of the royal house of Stewart. Close to the town, on the site of Elderslie House, Somerled, lord of the Isles, was defeated and slain in 1164 by the forces of Malcolm IV., against whom he had rebelled. In 1404 Robert II. bestowed upon his son James (afterwards James I.) the title of Baron of Renfrew, still borne by the prince of Wales.

 RENFREWSHIRE, a south-western county of Scotland, bounded N. by the river and firth of Clyde, E. by Lanarkshire, S. and S.W. by Ayrshire and W. by the firth of Clyde. A small detached portion of the parish of Renfrew, situated on the northern bank of the Clyde, is surrounded on the landward side by Dumbartonshire. The county has an area of 153,332 acres, or 239.6 sq. m. Excepting towards the Ayrshire border on the south-west, where the principal heights are Hill of Stake (1711 ft.), East Girt Hill (1673), Misty Law (1663) and Creuch Hill (1446), and the confines of Lanarkshire on the south-east, where a few points attain an altitude of 1200 ft.—the surface is undulating rather than rugged. Much of the higher land in the centre is well wooded. The Clyde forms part of the northern boundary of the shire. In the N.W. Loch Thom and Gryfe Reservoir provide Greenock with water, and Balgray Reservoir and Glen Reservoir reinforce the water-supply of a portion of the Glasgow area. The other lakes are situated in the S. and S.E. and

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 of the world, brother of Maāt and the giver of laws and culture to man. Thoth “the thrice-great” passed into Hermes Trismegistus whom Christian fathers could recognize, when the supremely beautiful figure of Greek theology, Apollo, had lost his dignity and ceased to be desired. Thoth was a voluminous author, and the collection of forty-two books which bore his name was a kind of primitive cyclopaedia of theology, astronomy, geography and physiology. Apollo proclaims at his birth that he will declare the counsel of Father Zeus to men. But his utterances have been only casually preserved. A special literature of oracles did indeed arise; the divine words were collected and the circumstances which produced them were recorded; and had Delphi become in fact the centre of Greece, as Plato conceived it, here might have been the nucleus of a scripture. Theories of inspiration lurk behind the rich vocabulary of Greek prophecy; the seer is, and Bakis and Musaeus give their names to sacred verses. The story of the Sibylline books in Rome, on the other hand, shows the growth of the idea of authority. They are deposited in a temple, in charge of a small sacred college; new deities and rites are introduced under their sanction; when they are accidentally destroyed, envoys are sent to the East and fresh collections are made; these are in their turn purged, the false are discarded and the true reverently preserved. By what method the books were consulted is not known; but they exhibit the idea of a sacred canon in process of formation. The theologians of India guarded their ancient hymns with the utmost care. A vast literary apparatus was devised for their protection. The famous Purusha-hymn (R.V. x. 90) already claimed a divine origin for the three Vedas, the Rik, the Sāman and the Yajush. The “triple knowledge” was sometimes derived from the “Lord of Creatures” Prajāpati—one of the unifying forms of Brahmanical theology—through Vāc or “speech.” The Veda, that is to say, had existed in the divine mind ere it was made known to men, and as such it belonged to the realm of the deathless and the infinite. The tribal poets were supposed to have “seen” the heavenly originals; elaborate arguments were devised to explain how the names of particular objects like rivers and mountains could have existed in the Eternal; while the grounds of belief in the infallibility of the sacred verses were enforced with the double weight of philosophy and tradition. Buddhism repudiated the authority of the Veda, but found it needful to supply its place; and the word of the omniscient Teacher, faithfully reported by his disciples and guaranteed by concurrent traditions, became the rule of belief for the new Order. Nor were the authors of the scriptures whose fragments are preserved in the Zend Avesta less conscious of their divine value. The ancient Gāthās, which were supposed to be the composition of Zarathustra himself, received the homage of later worshippers. Daena, the ideal personification of law and religion, is the object of praise and sacrifice. She dwells on high in the Heavenly Home, the radiant “Abode of song,” but Zarathustra summons her thence, begs for her fellowship, and prays her for righteousness of thought, speech and deed. She is produced by Vohu Mano, the “Good Thought” of Ahura, one of the six Holy Immortals; she thus belongs to the ideal creation before the earth and its inhabitants; but how the heavenly Daena was wrought by Zarathustra into written form is nowhere stated. This conception of pre-existent spiritual counterparts was not without influence on the later theology of Israel. The sacred law (Torah) was the earthly reproduction of a heavenly Torah which had no origin in time, and constituted the sum of ideal wisdom into which God looked when he would create the world.

Even Mahommedanism felt the spell of the same modes of thought. The idea of revelation was expressed by “sending down” (from nazala, to descend); that which passed from heaven to earth was a pre-existent word, eternal as God Himself. Allusions in particular passages of the Koran to the “mother of the scripture,” the invisible originals of the prophet's speech, led to the doctrine of its uncreated being. The whole history of religion presents perhaps no more singular spectacle than the mosques of Bagdad in the middle of the 9th century filled with vast crowds of twenty and thirty thousand of the faithful, assembled to discuss the dogmas of the created and the uncreated Koran.

8. Ethics and Eschalology.—The second distinguishing mark in Tiele's higher group is implied in the term “Ethical.” By this it is not intended to assert that moral ideas are wanting in the so-called “naturist” religions. Anthropologists have, it is true, taken widely different views of the relation of ethics and religion, and the stage at which an effective alliance between them might be recognized. Like all problems of origins, the question is necessarily extremely obscure, and cannot be definitely settled by historical evidence. Broadly speaking, however, it may be said that the attempt to show that certain savages are destitute of moral feeling cannot be sustained; and evidence has been already cited above (in the section on ) proving the varied and immediate effects of religion on the life of the lowest tribes. Continuous interaction marks the slow courses of advance. At a very early period in social development the rules of conduct are referred to some higher source. Thus among the tribes of south-eastern Australia described by Mr Howitt, the native rites and laws handed down from generation to generation were supposed to have been first imparted by some higher being such as Nurrundere, who made all things on the earth; or Nurelli, who created the whole country, with the rivers, trees and animals; or Daramulun, who (like Nurrundere) bestowed weapons on the men, and instituted the rites and ceremonies connected with life and death. As religion advances with improved social organization, a series of figures, partly human, partly divine, embodies the idea that the command of nature implied in the progress of the arts is due to some kind of instruction from above, and that the obligations of law are of more than human origin. The Algonquin Manibozho and Quetzalcoatl of Mexico stand for a whole group of typical personalities in North and Central America. The mysterious fish-man Oannes, who taught the primitive inhabitants of Babylonia, according to Alexander Polyhistor, has been identified with Ea, god of the deep, the source of wisdom, culture and social order. Zeus gave laws to Minos; Apollo revealed the Spartan constitution to Lycurgus; Zaleucus received the laws for the Locrians from Athena in a dream; Vishnu and Manu condescended to draw up law-books in India. The worship of ancestors has again and again gathered around it powerful and ethical influences, emphasizing the parental and filial relations, and strengthening the mutual obligations of communal life. Hirata answered by anticipation the modern reproach against Shinto, founded on the absence of any definite morality connected with it, by laying down the simple rule, “Act so that you need not be ashamed before the Kami of the unseen.” The mythological embodiments of the connexion of law in nature with the social and moral order have already been briefly noted: a few words may be said in conclusion on another product of the union of religion and ethics, viz. the doctrine of judgment after death. That this doctrine is not essential to a highly moralized religion is clear from the fact that it formed no part of the earlier Hebrew prophecy. Judgment, indeed, was an inevitable outcome of the sovereignty of Yahweh, but it would be passed upon the nation in the immediate scene of its misdoings; and even when the scope of the divine doom

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 no mere pursuit of a special and recluse class. It was fashionable and it was passionate, pervading all society with the fervour of romance. For a generation nursed in decadent scholasticism and stereotyped theological formulae it was the fountain cf renascent youth, beauty and freedom, the shape in which the Helen of art and poetry appeared to the ravished eyes of medieval Faustus. It was the resurrection of the mightiest spirits of the past. “I go,” said Cyriac of Ancona, the indefatigable though uncritical explorer of antiquities, “I go to awake the dead!” This was the enthusiasm, this the vitalizing faith, which made the work of scholarship in the 15th century so highly strung and ardent. The men who followed it knew that they were restoring humanity to its birthright after the expatriation of ten centuries. They were instinctively aware that the effort was for liberty of action, thought and conscience in the future. This conviction made young men leave their loves and pleasures, grave men quit their counting-houses, churchmen desert their missals, to crowd the lecture-rooms of philologers and rhetoricians. When Greek had been acquired, MSS. accumulated, libraries and museums formed, came the age of printers and expositors. Aldus Manutius in Italy, Froben in Basel, the Étiennes in Paris, committed to the press what the investigators had recovered. Nor were there wanting men who dedicated their powers to Hebrew and Oriental erudition, laying, together with the Grecians, a basis for those Biblical studies which advanced the Reformation. Meanwhile the languages of Greece and Rome had been so thoroughly appropriated that a final race of scholars, headed by Politian, Pontano, Valla, handled once again in verse and prose both antique dialects, and thrilled the ears of Europe with new-made pagan melodies. The church itself at this epoch lent its influence to the prevalent enthusiasm. Nicholas V. and Leo VX., not to mention intervening popes who showed themselves tolerant of humanistic culture, were heroes of the classical revival. Scholarship became the surest path of advancement to ecclesiastical and political honours. Italy was one great school of the new learning at the moment when the German, French and Spanish nations were invited to her feast.

It will be well to describe briefly, but in detail, what this meeting of the modern with the ancient mind effected over the whole field of intellectual interests. In doing so, we must be careful to remember that the study of the classics did but give a special impulse to pent-up energies which were bound in one way or another to assert their independence. Without the Revival, of Learning the direction of those forces would have been different; but that novel intuition into the nature of the world and man which constitutes what we describe as Renaissance must have emerged. As the facts, however, stand before us, it is impossible to dissociate the rejection of the other world as the sole reality, the joyous acceptance of this world as a place to live and act in, the conviction that “the proper study of mankind is man,” from humanism. Humanism, as it actually appeared in Italy, was positive in its conception of the problems to be solved, pagan in its contempt for medieval mysticism, invigorated for sensuous enjoyment by contact with antiquity, yet holding in itself the germ of new religious aspirations, profounder science and sterner probings of the mysteries of life than had been attempted even by the ancients. The operation of this humanistic spirit has now to be traced.

It is obvious that Italian literature owed little, at the outset to the Revival of Learning. The Divine Comedy, the Canzoniere and the Decameron were works of monumental art, deriving neither form nor inspiration immediately from the classics, but applying the originality of Italian genius to matter drawn from previous medieval sources. Dante showed both in his epic poem and in his lyrics that he had not abandoned the sphere of contemporary thought. Allegory and theology, the vision and the symbol, still determine the form of masterpieces which for perfection of workmanship and for emancipated force of intellect rank among the highest products of the human mind. Yet they are not medieval in the same sense as the song of Roland or the Arthurian cycle. They proved that, though Italy came late into the realm of literature, her action was destined to be decisive and alterative by the introduction of a new spirit, a firmer and more positive grasp on life and aft. These qualities she owed to her material prosperity, to her freedom from feudalism, to her secularized church, her commercial nobility, her political independence in a federation of small States. Petrarch and Boccaccio, though they both held the medieval doctrine that literature should teach some abstruse truth beneath a veil of fiction, differed from Dante in this that their poetry and prose in the vernacular abandoned both allegory and symbol. In their practice they ignored their theory. Petrarch’s lyrics continue the Provengal tradition as it had been reformed in Tuscany, with a subtler and more modern analysis of emotion, a purer and more chastened style, than his masters could boast. Boccaccio’s tales, in like manner, continue the tradition of the fabliaux, raising that literary species to the rank of finished art, enriching it with humour and strengthening its substance by keen insight into all varieties of character. The Canzoniere and the Decameron distinguish themselves from medieval literature, not by any return to classical precedents, but by free self-conscious handling of human nature. So much had to be premised in order to make it clear in what relation humanism stood to the Renaissance, since the Italian work of Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio is sufficient to indicate the re-birth of the spirit after ages of apparent deadness. Had the Revival of Learning not intervened it is probable that the vigorous efforts of these writers alone would have inaugurated a new age of European culture. Yet, while noting this reservation of judgment, it must also be remarked that all three felt themselves under some peculiar obligation to the classics. Dante, medieval as his temper seems to us, chose Virgil for his guide, and ascribed his mastery of style to the study of Virgilian poetry. Petrarch and Boccaccio were, as we have seen, the pioneers of the new learning. They held their writings in the vernacular cheap, and initiated that contempt for the mother tongue which was a note of the earlier Renaissance. Giovanni Villani, the first chronicler who used Italian for the compilation of a methodical history, tells us how he was impelled to write by musing on the ruins of Rome and thinking of the vanished greatness of the Latin race. We have therefore to recognize that the four greatest writers of the 14th century, while the Revival of Learning was yet in its cradle, each after his own fashion acknowledged the vivifying touch upon their spirit of the antique genius. They seem to have been conscious that they could not give the desired impulse to modern literature and art without contact with the classics; and, in spite of the splendour of their achievements in Italian, they found no immediate followers upon that path.

The fascination of pure study was so powerful, the Italians at that epoch were so eager to recover the past, that during the 15th century we have before our eyes the spectacle of this great nation deviating from the course of development begun in poetry by Dante and Petrarch, in, prose by Boccaccio, and Villani, into the channels of scholarship and antiquarian research. The language of the Canzoniere and Decameron was abandoned for revived Latin and discovered Greek. Acquisition supplanted invention; imitation of classical authors suppressed originality of style. The energies of the Italian people were devoted to transcribing codices, settling texts, translating Greek books into Latin, compiling grammars, commentaries, encyclopedias, dictionaries, cpitomes and ephemerides. During this century the best histories—Bruno’s and Poggio’s annals of Florence, for example—were composed in Latin after the manner of Livy. The best dissertations, Landino’s Camaldunenses, Valla’s De Voluptate, were laboured imitations of Cicero's Tusculans. The best verses, Pontano’s elegies, Politian’s hexameters, were in like manner Latin; public orations upon ceremonial occasions were delivered in the Latin tongue; correspondence, official and familiar, was carried on in the same language; even the fabliaux received, in Poggio’s Facetiae. a dress of elegant Latinity. The noticeable barrenness of Italian literature at this period is referable to the fact that men of genius and talent devoted themselves to erudition and struggled to express their thoughts and feelings in a speech which was not natural. Yet they were engaged in a work of incalculable importance. At the close of the century the knowledge of Greece and Rome had been re appropriated and placed beyond the possibility of destruction; the chasm between the old and new world had been bridged; medieval modes of thinking and discussing had been superseded; the staple of education, the common culture which has brought all Europe into intellectual agreement, was already in existence. Humanism was now an actuality. Owing to the uncritical veneration for antiquity which then prevailed, it had received a strong tincture of pedantry. Its professors, in their revolt against the middle ages, made light of Christianity and paraded paganism. What was even worse from an artistic point of view, they had contracted puerilities of style, vanities of rhetoric, stupidities of wearisome citation. Still, at the opening of the 16th century, it became manifest what fruits of noble quality the Revival of Letters was about to bring forth for modern literature. Two great scholars, Lorenzo de’ Medici and Politian, had already returned to the

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 difficulty attends the classification of one than of the other.” Indeed Vosmaer points out in his Life of Rembrandt that there is a marked parallelism between Rembrandt’s painted and etched work, his early work in both cases being timid and tentative, while he gradually gains strength and character both with the brush and the graver’s tools.

In his L’Œuvre complet de Rembrandt (Paris, 1885), Eugene Dutuit rejects the classification of C. Blanc as dubious and unwarranted, dismisses the chronological arrangement proposed by Vosmaer and adopted by Seymour Haden and Middleton as open to discussion and lacking in possibility of proof, and reverts to the order established by Gersaint, ranging his materials under twelve heads: Portraits (real and supposed), Old Testament and New Testament subjects, histories, landscapes, &c. Sir Seymour Haden originated the theory that many of the etchings ascribed to Rembrandt up to 1640 were the work of his pupils, and seems to make out his case, though it may be carried too far. He argues (in his monograph on the Etched Work of Rembrandt, 1877) that Rembrandt’s real work in etching began after Saskia’s death, when he assumes that Rembrandt betook himself to Elsbroek, the country house of his “powerful friend” Jan Six. But it must be remembered that the future burgomaster was then but a student of twenty-four, a member of a great family it is true, but unmarried and taking as yet no share in public life. That Rembrandt was a frequent visitor at Elsbroek, and that the “Three Trees” and other etchings may have been produced there, may be admitted without requiring us to believe that he had left Amsterdam as his place of abode. The great period of his etching lies between 1639 and 1661, after which the old painter seems to have renounced the needle. In these twenty years were produced his greatest works in portraiture, landscape and Bible story. They bear the impress of the genius of the man.

In addition to the authors named, the reader is referred to W. Bürger, (the nom de plume of T. Thoré), Musées de la Hollande (1858–60), E. Fromentin, Maitres d'autrefois; H. Havard, L’École Hollandaise; Scheltema, Rembrandt, discours sur sa vie (1866); Ath. Cocquerel fils, Rembrandt, son individualism dans l’art (Paris, 1869); Dr Langbehn, Rembrandt als Erzieher (Leipzig, 1890); Emile Michel, Rembrandt, sa vie, son œuvre, et son temps (Paris, 1893); P. G. Hamerton, Rembrandt’s Etchings (London, 1894); Malcolm Bell, Rembrandt van Rijn and his Work (London, 1899); Adolf Rosenberg, Rembrandt, des Meisters Gemälde (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1906), a useful work, admirably reproducing 565 of the artist’s pictures, and its companion volume, Hans Wolfgang Singer, Rembrandt, des Meisters Radierungen. (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1906), reproducing 402 etchings. The chronological, geographical and classifying indexes in both books are of particular utility.

REMEDIOS, or, town of Santa Clara province, Cuba, in the municipality of San Juan de Los Remedios. Pop. of the town (1907), 6988; of the municipality, 21,573. The town is served by a branch of the Cuban Central railway, extending from Caibarién to Camajuani, where it connects with the main line. The site is low and flat, and unhealthily wet in the rainy season. The port of Remedios is Caibarién pop. in 1907, 8333), on the N. coast, about 5 m. E. Both are in the sugar country, and sugar is the base of their economic interests. The first settlement on the site of the present town was made in 1515–16, and in 1545 Remedios was created a villa with an ayuntamiento (council).

REMEMBRANCER, the name originally of certain subordinate officers of the English Exchequer. The office itself is of great antiquity, the holder having been termed remembrancer, memorator, rememorator, registrar, keeper of the register, despatcher of business (Maddox, History of the Exchequer). There were at one time three clerks of the remembrance, styled king’s remembrancer, lord treasurer’s remembrancer and remembrancer of first-fruits. The latter two offices have become extinct, that of remembrancer of first-fruits by the diversion of the fund (Queen Anne’s Bounty Act 1838), and that of lord treasurer’s remembrancer on being merged in the office of king’s remembrancer (1833). By the Queen’s Remembrancer Act 1859 the office ceased to exist separately, and the queen’s remembrancer was required to be a master of the court of exchequer. The Judicature Act 1873, s. 77, attached the office to the Supreme Court, and the Supreme Court of Judicature (Officers) Act 1879 transferred it to the central office of the Supreme Court. By s. 8 the king’s remembrancer is a master of the Supreme Court, and the office is usually filled by the senior master. The king’s remembrancer department of the central office is now amalgamated with the judgments and married women’s acknowledgments department. The king’s remembrancer still assists at certain ceremonial functions—relics of the former importance of the office—such as the nomination of sheriffs, the swearing-in of the lord mayor of London, the trial of the pyx and the acknowledgments of homage for crown lands. Other duties are set out in the Second Report of the Legal Departments Commission, 1874.

“Remembrancer” is also the title of an official of the corporation of the city of London, whose principal duty is to represent that body before parliamentary committees and at council and treasury boards.

REMIGIUS, ST (c. 437–533), bishop of Reims and the friend of Clovis, whom he converted to Christianity. According to Gregory of Tours, 3000 Franks were baptized with Clovis by Remigius on Christmas Day, 496, after the defeat of the Alamanni. With the growing power of the papacy a good many fictions grew up around his name, e.g. that he anointed Clovis with oil from the sacred ampulla, and that Pope Hormisdas had recognized him as primate of France. The Commentary on the Pauline Epistles (ed. Villalpandus, 1699) is not his work, but that of Remigius of Auxerre.

For authorities see H. Jadart, Bibliographie des ouvrages conc. la vie et le culte de S. Remi. . . (Reims, 1891), which contains 126 references.

REMINGTON, FREDERICK (1861–1909), American artist, was born at Canton, New York, on the 4th of October 1861. He was a pupil of the Yale Art School, and of the Art Students’ League, New York, and became known as an illustrator, painter and sculptor. Having spent much time in the West, whither he went for his health, and having been with the United States troops in actual warfare, he made a specialty of rendering the North American Indian and the United States soldier as seen on the western plains. In the Spanish-American War he was with the army under General Shafter as war correspondent. He died on the 26th of December 1909, near Ridgefield, Connecticut. His statuettes of soldiers, Indians, cowboys and trappers are full of character, while his paintings have been largely reproduced. He wrote several volumes of stories, including Pony Tracks (1895), Crooked Trails (1898), Sundown Leflare (1899), and John Ermine of the Yellowstone (1902).

REMINISCENCE (from Lat. reminisci, to remember), the recognized translation of the Greek , which is used technically by Plato in his doctrine that the soul recovers knowledge of which it had direct intuition in a former incorporeal existence. The doctrine may be regarded as the poetical precursor of modern a priori theories of knowledge and of “race-memory” and the like. In common language “reminiscence” is synonymous with “recollection.”

REMIREMONT, a town of eastern France, capital of an arrondissement in the department of Vosges, 17 m. S.S.E. of Épinal by rail, on the Moselle, a mile below its confluence with the Moselotte. Pop. town, 8782; commune, 10,548. Remiremont is surrounded by forest-clad mountains, and commanded by Fort Parmont, one of the Moselle line of defensive works. The abbey church, consecrated in 1051, has a crypt of the 11th century in which are the tombs of some of the abbesses, but as a whole belongs to the late 13th century. The abbatial residence (which now contains the mairie, the court-house and the public library) has been twice rebuilt in modern times (in 1750 and again after a fire in 1871), but the original plan and style have been preserved in the imposing front, the vestibule and the grand staircase. Some of the houses of the canonesses dating from the 17th and 18th centuries also remain. Remiremont is the seat of a sub-prefect and has a tribunal of first instance, communal college, a board of trade-arbitration and a chamber of arts and manufactures. Its industries include cotton-spinning and weaving, the manufacture of hosiery and embroidery, iron and copper founding and the manufacture of boots and shoes and brushes.

Remiremont (Romarici Mons) derives its name from St Romaric, one of the companions of St Columban of Luxeuil, who in the 7th century founded a monastery and a convent on the hills above the present town. In 910 the nuns, menaced

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116 the settlements of the Greeks round the Ægean Sea. The invasion of the Promised Land from beyond the Jordan by the Beni-Israel, the Children of Israel, was probably but one of many like descents of the Bedouin. The Chaldees, from whose city of Ur on the desert border Abraham migrated along the beaten track into Palestine, were Semites who supplanted the non-Semitic Accadians in the land which became Babylonia; and the Dynasty of the Shepherd Kings in Egypt was also apparently of Semitic origin. So it came about that all the peoples of Arabia—Arabs, Babylonians, Assyrians, Syrians, Phœnicians, and Hebrews—spoke dialects of the same Semitic family of speech. To-day Arabic is the universal tongue from the Taurus to the Gulf of Aden, and from the Persian Mountains to the oases in the Sahara west of the Nile.

The Arabian tableland drops steeply to the sea shores around in all directions save one; north-eastward it shelves gradually down to the depression occupied by the Euphrates and the Persian Gulf. That depression is 1800 miles long, from the gorge by which the Euphrates issues from its source valley in the Armenian Plateau to the Strait of Ormuz at the mouth of the Persian Gulf; throughout


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Rh gins of the lateral spines of the tail show that it was fur- nished with fimbria, similar to those illustrated for Dithyrocaris neptuni, Hall, in Iillustrations of Devonian Fossils, explanation of Plates XXII, XXIII. The other characters are very different, however, from that genus, i11 the absence of an anterior sinus for the reception of the rostral plate, the want of a strong ridge on the valves, the posterior spiniform projection of the lower posterior end of the valve. and in the number of abdominal segments. The posterior spines of Dithyrocaris are not a mere prolongation of the upper snrface of the valves but are produced by the extension of the infolded thickened rim of the lower side of the valves.

Formation and locality. In the lower arenaceous and micaceous shales of the Chemung gimip, as exposed at Warren, Pennsylvania.

[ζροπις, carrina, χαρις caris.] Carapace bivnlve, semi ovate or semi-ellipitcal in outline, obliquely truncated behind. Dorsal line straight nearly equal to the length of the valves. Valves about twice as long as wide. ornamented with one or more strong longitu- dinal ridges. Cephalic region indicated by broad, rounded elevations on the anterior ends of the valves. or by differ- ence in convexity from the remainder of the carapace. Optic node well-marked, and in the species known. is situated on one of the smaller secondary ridges. Rostrum not observed Two seginents of the abdomen are known, which are cyl- indrical and without nodes or spines. The extent of the telson and appendages has not been observed. The species described show a range of from 15 to 40 nun. in the length of the carapace.

This genus differs in the form and ornamentation of the car- apace from Its relations with are quite apparent in the outline of the valves and probably equal number of segements in the abdomen. The succcessive appearance of three distinct species having a similarity of ornamentations from widely separated horizons indicates a permanence of of character which is of generic importance.


text: Pollard v. Shaaffer

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Rh its length it is overlooked by the range of the Persian Mountains, the high Iranian brink of the Heartland. One of the great events of Classical History was when the Persian Highlanders came down on to the Euphrates plain under their King Cyrus, and, after conquering Babylon, passed on by the Syrian road through Damascus to the conquest of Egypt.

The gorge by which the Euphrates escapes from the Armenian upland is more than 800 miles in a direct line from the river mouth and only a little more than 100 miles from the north-eastern corner of the Mediterranean Sea near Aleppo. Immediately west of this gorge the High Upland of Armenia, some one and a half miles in average elevation, drops to the much lower peninsular tableland of Asia Minor. A second great event in Classical History was when the Macedonians, under King Alexander, having crossed the Dardanelles and traversed the open centre of Asia Minor, descended by the Taurus passes into Cilicia, and struck through Syria into Egypt, and then from Egypt back through Syria to the Euphrates, and down the Euphrates to Babylon. It is true that Alexander thus led his Macedonians overland into Arabia, but their attack was really based on sea-power,


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 by the invasion of the Hungarians, took refuge at Remiremont, which had grown up round a villa of the Frankish kings, and in the 11th century they permanently settled there. Enriched by dukes of Lorraine, kings of France and emperors of Germany, the ladies of Remiremont attained great power. The abbess was a princess of the empire, and received consecration at the hands of the pope. The fifty canonesses were selected from those who could give proof of noble descent. On Whit-Monday the neighbouring parishes paid homage to the chapter in a ceremony called the “Kyrioles”; and on their accession the dukes of Lorraine, the immediate suzerains of the abbey, had to come to Remiremont to swear to continue their protection. The “ War of the Scutcheons” (Panonceaux) in 1566 between the duke and the abbess ended in favour of the duke; and the abbess never recovered her former position. In the 17th century the ladies of Remiremont fell away so much from the original monastic rule as to take the title of countesses, renounce their vows and marry. The town was attacked by the French in 1638 and ruined by the earthquake of 1682. With the rest of Lorraine it was joined to France in 1766. The monastery on the hill and the nunnery in the town were both suppressed in the Revolution.

 REMONSTRANTS, the name given to those Dutch Protestants who, after the death of (q.v.), maintained the views associated with his name, and in 1610 presented to the states of Holland and Friesland a “remonstrance” in five articles formulating their points of departure from stricter Calvinism. These were: (1) that the divine decree of predestination is conditional, not absolute; (2) that the Atonement is in intention universal; (3) that man cannot of himself exercise a saving faith; (4) that though the grace of God is a necessary condition of human effort it does not act irresistibly in man; (5) that believers are able to resist sin but are not beyond the possibility of falling from grace. Their adversaries (the Gomarists) met them with a “counter-remonstrance,” and so were known as the Counter-Remonstrants. Although the states-general issued an edict tolerating both parties and forbidding further dispute, the conflict continued, and the Remonstrants were assailed both by personal enemies and by the political weapons of Maurice of Orange, who executed and imprisoned their leaders for holding republican views. In 1618–19 the synod of Dort (see ), the thirteen Arminian pastors headed by (q.v.) being shut out, established the victory of the Calvinist school, drew up ninety-three canonical rules, and confirmed the authority of the Belgic Confession and the Heidelberg Catechism. The judgment of the synod was enforced by the deposition and in some cases the banishment of Remonstrant ministers; but the government soon became convinced that their party was not dangerous to the state, and in 1630 they were formally allowed liberty to reside in all parts of Holland and build churches and schools. In 1621 they had already received liberty to make a settlement in Schleswig, where they built the town of Friedrichstadt. This colony still exists. The doctrine of the Remonstrants was embodied in 1621 in a confessio written by Episcopius, their great theologian, while J. Uytenbogaert gave them a catechism and regulated their churchly order. The Remonstrants adopted a simple synodical constitution; but their importance was henceforth more theological than ecclesiastical. Their seminary in Amsterdam has boasted of many distinguished names—Curcellaeus, Limborch, Wetstein, Le Clerc; and their liberal school of theology, which naturally grew more liberal and even rationalistic, reacted powerfully on the state church and on other Christian denominations. The Remonstrants first received official recognition in 1795. As a church they now number 27 communities with about 12,500 members, in a flourishing condition and respected for their traditions of scholarship and liberal thought. Their chief congregation is in Rotterdam.  REMPHAN, the Authorized Version’s rendering of the Greek word variously appearing in Acts vii. 4843 [sic] as. It is part of a quotation from Amos v. 26, where the Septuagint or  stands for the Hebrew  Chuin or Kewan. The Greek forms are probably simple mistakes for the Hebrew, k having been replaced by r  and ph  substituted for v. Kewan is probably the old Babylonian Ka(y)awanu, the planet Saturn, another (the Akkadian) name for which is Sakkut, which appears as Siccuth in the earlier part of the verse.  REMSCHEID, a town of Germany, in the Prussian Rhine Province, situated on an elevated plateau, 1100 ft. above sealevel, 6 m. by rail S. of Barmen and zo m. N.E. of Cologne. Pop. (1905) 64,340. Remscheid is a centre of the hardware industry, and large quantities of tools, scythes, skates and other small articles in iron, steel and brass are made for export to all parts of Europe, the East, and North and South America. The name of Remscheid occurs in a document of 1132, and the town received the first impulse to its industrial importance through the immigration of Protestant refugees from France and Holland.  RÉMUSAT, CHARLES FRANCOIS MARIE, (1797–1875), French politician and man of letters, was born in Paris on the 13th of March 1797. His father, Auguste Laurent, Comte de Rémusat, of a good family of Toulouse, was chamberlain to Napoleon, but acquiesced in the restoration and became prefect first of Haute Garonne, and then of Nord. His mother’s maiden name was Claire Élisabeth Jeanne Gravier de Vergennes, born in 1780. She married at sixteen, and was attached to Josephine as dame du palais in 1802. Talleyrand was among her admirers, and she was generally recognized as a woman of great intellectual, capacity and personal grace. After her death (1824) an Essai sur l'éducation des femmes was published and received an academic couronne. But it was not until her grandson Paul de Rémusat published her Mémoires (3 vols., Paris, 1879-80), which have since been followed by some correspondence with her son (2 vols., 1881), that justice could be done to her literary talent. Much light was thrown on the Napoleonic court by this book, and on the youth and education of her son Charles. He early developed political views more liberal than those of his parents, and, being bred to the bar, published in 1820 a pamphlet on trial by jury. He was an active journalist, showing in philosophy and literature the influence of Cousin, and is said to have furnished to no small extent the original of Balzac’s brilliant egoist Henri de Marsay. He signed the journalists' protest against the Ordinances of July 1830, and in the following October was elected deputy for Haute Garonne. He then ranked himself with the doctrinaires, and supported most of those measures of restriction on popular liberty which made the July monarchy unpopular with French Radicals. In 1836 he became for a short time under-secretary of state for the interior. He then became an ally of Thiers, and in 1840 held the ministry of the interior for a brief period. In the same year he became an Academician. For the rest of Louis Philippe’s reign he was in opposition till he joined Thiers in his attempt at a ministry in the spring of 1848. During this time Rémusat constantly spoke in the chamber, but was still more active in literature, especially on philosophical subjects, the most remarkable of his works being his book on Abélard (2 vols., 1845). In 1848 he was elected, and in 1849 re-elected, for Haute Garonne, and voted with the Conservative side. He had to leave France after the coup d’état; nor did he re-enter political life during the Second Empire until 1869, when he founded a moderate opposition journal at Toulouse. In 1871 he refused the Vienna embassy offered him by Thiers, but in August he was appointed minister of foreign affairs in succession to M. Jules Favre. Although minister he was not a deputy, and on standing for Paris in September 1873 he was beaten by Désiré Barodet. A month later he was elected (having already resigned with Thiers) for Haute Garonne by a great majority. He died in Paris on the 6th of January 1875.

During his abstention from politics Rémusat continued to write on philosophical history, especially English. Saint Anselme de Cantorbéry appeared in 1854; L’Angleterre au XVIIIème siècle in 1856 (2nd ed. enlarged, 1865); Bacon, sa vie,

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 seen!" Connie cried. "I told you at the time I couldn't understand it."

I nodded. "The silver platter again."

"But then—" Connie began doubtfully. "Oh, Pete! You make it sound as though there were absolutely nothing in life to wish for!"

"Well, is there anything to wish for that we don't have already? Or that we can't earn for ourselves if we want it so badly?" I paused a minute, holding my breath. This was the moment. But I was on dangerous ground again, and I knew it. Everything depended on the answer Connie would make to my next question. "Connie, answer me this honestly. What were the happiest moments you've ever spent in your life?"

I waited, breath held. The djinn watched anxiously, too, sensing the crisis.

Connie didn't even have to stop to think, bless her! She smiled and said softly, "How can you ask, Pete? This afternoon, of course. On the beach. Just before I found the bottle."

I waited again, gladness now in my heart. It was the answer I'd hoped for, the answer I would have given myself had the same question been asked of me.

"Just before I found the bottle!" Connie repeated softly, her eyes widening. "And we've been squabbling ever since!" She rose then, and threw herself into my arms. "Oh, Peter! Forgive me! We haven't been really happy since! I wish it were this afternoon again before I'd found the bottle!"

The djinn seemed to smile just before he dissolved.

The sun blazed brightly so that I was forced to squint against it, and there came the sharp salt fishy smell of the sea to sting my nostrils, and the sand was hot beneath me.

Connie raised her head from my stomach, and looked about in bewilderment. She dug furiously into the sand for a moment, but there was nothing there. She turned then, and saw me watching her with quizzical eyes.

"Sorry?" I asked.

Perhaps there was fleeting regret in her face, but only for an instant, really. "Oh, Pete! You know I'm not!"

She nuzzled her face against mine. There was no one on the beach. No hovering, eavesdropping djinn. I kissed her lingeringly. It was wonderful. But after she caught her breath, she stared out at the sea for a long moment. And then she looked back at me.

"Just the same," she said grimly, "I will never, never, never forgive Bill Hastings for it all!"

Now I ask you!

Aren't women the darnedest?


text:
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 son temps, &c., in 1858; Channing, sa vie et ses œuvres, in 1862; John Wesley in 1870; Lord Herbert de Cherbury in 1874; Histoire de la philosophies en Angleterre depuis Bacon jusqu'à Locke in 1875; besides other and minor works. He wrote well, was a forcible speaker and an acute critic; but his adoption of the indeterminate eclecticism of Cousin in philosophy and of the somewhat similarly indeterminate liberalism of Thiers in politics probably limited his powers, though both no doubt accorded with his critical and unenthusiastic turn of mind.

His son (1831–1897) became a distinguished journalist and writer. He was for many years a regular contributor to the Revue des deux mondes. He stood for election in Haute-Garonne in 1869 in opposition to the imperial policy and failed, but was elected to the National Assembly in 1871 and later. In 1890 he entered the Académie des sciences morales et politiques.  REMUSAT, JEAN PIERRE ABEL (1788–1832), French Chinese scholar, was born in Paris on the 5th of September 1788. He was educated for the medical profession, but a Chinese herbal in the collection of the Abbé Tersan attracted his attention, and he taught himself to read it by great perseverance and with imperfect help. At the end of five years’ study he produced in 1811 an Essai sur la langue et la littérature chinoises, and a paper on foreign languages among the Chinese, which procured him the patronage of Silvestre de Sacy. In 1814 a chair of Chinese was founded at the College de France, and Rémusat was placed in it. From this time he gave himself wholly to the languages of the Far East, and published a series of useful works, among which his contributions from Chinese sources to the history of the Tatar nations claim special notice. Rémusat became an editor of the Journal de savants in 1818, and founder and first secretary of the Paris Asiatic Society in 1822; he also held various Government appointments. He died at Paris on the 4th of June 1832. A list of his works is given in Quérard’s France littéraire s.v. Rémusat.  RENAISSANCE, THE.—The “Renaissance” or “Renascence” is a term used to indicate a well-known but indefinite space of time and a certain phase in the development of Europe. On the one hand it denotes the transition from that period of history which we call the (q.v.) to that which we call modern. On the other hand it implies those changes in the intellectual and moral attitude of the Western nations by which the transition was characterized. If we insist upon the literal and etymological meaning of the word, the Renaissance was a re-birth; and it is needful to inquire of what it was the re-birth. The metaphor of Renaissance may signify the entrance of the European nations upon a fresh stage of vital energy in general, implying a fuller consciousness and a freer exercise of faculties than had belonged to the medieval period. Or it may mean the resuscitation of simply intellectual activities, stimulated by the revival of antique learning and its application to the arts and literatures of modern peoples. Upon our choice between these two interpretations of the word depend important differences in any treatment of the subject. The former has the disadvantage of making it difficult to separate the Renaissance from other historical phases—the Reformation, for example—with which it ought not to be confounded. The latter has the merit of assigning a specific name to a limited series of events and group of facts, which can be distinguished for the purpose of analysis from other events and facts with which they are intimately but not indissolubly connected. In other words, the one definition of Renaissance makes it denote the whole change which came over Europe at the close of the middle ages. The other confines it to what was known by our ancestors as the Revival of Learning. Yet, when we concentrate attention on the recovery of antique culture, we become aware that this was only one phenomenon or symptom of a far wider and more comprehensive alteration in the conditions of the European races. We find it needful to retain both terms, Renaissance and Revival of Learning, and to show the relations between the series of events and facts which they severally imply. The Revival of Learning must be regarded as a function of that vital energy, an organ of that mental evolution, which brought into existence the modern world, with its new conceptions of philosophy and religion, its reawakened arts and sciences, its firmer grasp on the realities of human nature and the world, its manifold inventions and discoveries, its altered political systems, its expansive and progressive forces. Important as the Revival of Learning undoubtedly was, there are essential factors in the complex called the Renaissance with which it can but remotely be connected. When we analyse the whole group of phenomena which have to be considered, we perceive that some of the most essential have nothing or little to do with the recovery of the classics. These are, briefly speaking, the decay of those great fabrics, church and empire, which ruled the middle ages both as ideas and as realities; the development of nationalities and languages; the enfeeblement of the feudal system throughout Europe; the invention and application of paper, the mariner’s compass, gunpowder, and printing; the exploration of continents beyond the ocean; and the substitution of the Copernican for the Ptolemaic system of astronomy. Europe in fact had been prepared for a thoroughgoing metamorphosis before that new ideal of human life and culture which the Revival of Learning brought to light had been made manifest. It had recovered from the confusion consequent upon the dissolution of the ancient Roman empire. The Teutonic tribes had been Christianized, civilized and assimilated to the previously Latinized races over whom they exercised the authority of conquerors. Comparative tranquillity and material comfort had succeeded to discord and rough living. Modern nationalities, defined as separate factors in a common system, were ready to co-operate upon the basis of European federation. The ideas of universal monarchy and of indivisible Christendom, incorporated in the Holy Roman Empire and the Roman Church, had so far lost their hold that scope was offered for the introduction of new theories both of state and church which would have seemed visionary or impious to the medieval mind. It is therefore obvious that some term, wider than Revival of Learning, descriptive of the change which began to pass over Europe in the 14th and 15th centuries, has to be adopted. That of Renaissance, Rinascimento, or Renascence is sufficient for the purpose, though We have to guard against the tyranny of what is after all a metaphor. We must not suffer it to lead us into rhetoric about the deadness and the darkness of the middle ages, or hamper our inquiry with preconceived assumptions that the re-birth in question was in any true sense a return to the irrecoverable pagan past. Nor must we imagine that there was any abrupt break with the middle ages. On the contrary, the Renaissance was rather the last stage of the middle ages, emerging from ecclesiastical and feudal despotism, developing what was original in medieval ideas by the light of classic arts and letters, holding in itself the promise of the modern world. It was therefore a period and a process of transition, fusion, preparation, tentative endeavour. And just at this point the real importance of the Revival of Learning may be indicated. That rediscovery of the classic past restored the confidence in their own faculties to men striving after spiritual freedom; revealed the continuity of history and the identity of human nature in spite of diverse creeds and different customs; held up for emulation masterworks of literature, philosophy and art; provoked inquiry; encouraged criticism; shattered the narrow mental barriers imposed by medieval orthodoxy. Humanism, a word which will often recur in the ensuing paragraphs, denotes a specific bias which the forces liberated in the Renaissance took from contact with the ancient world, the particular form assumed by human self-esteem at that epoch, the ideal of life and civilization evolved by the modern nations. It indicates the endeavour of man to reconstitute himself as a free being, not as the thrall of theological despotism, and the peculiar assistance he derived in this effort from Greek and Roman literature, the litterae humaniores, letters leaning rather to the side of man than of divinity.

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text: Doane’s Administrators v. Penhallow

title: Doane’s Administrators v. Penhallow


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Rémusat, Charles François Marie, Comte de


text: Eastwick v. Hugg

title: Eastwick v. Hugg


text:
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 speaker apparently had a slight foreign accent.

At last, puffing a little, I found myself in a tower room—a small chamber whose round stone walls were slitted with just windows enough to make the outlines of objects mistily visible. The place was without furniture, except for a bare table and several chairs near the further wall; but what drew my attention, what held me galvanized, were the human occupants.

So as to see them more clearly, I flashed on my cigarette lighter—at which they drew back in a wide-mouthed startled sort of way, as if they had never seen such a device before. But in that glimpse of a few seconds, before I let the flame die out, I clearly saw the faces; the fat, stolid-looking man, with double chins and a beefy complexion; the alert, bright-eyed boy of seven or eight, and a girl of fourteen or fifteen; and the two women, the younger of a rather commonplace appearance, but the elder of a striking aspect, almost regal in the proud tilt of the shapely head, the lovely contours of the cheeks and lips, and the imperious flash of eyes that seemed made to command.

"Oh, monsieur," she exclaimed. "Thank you, sir, thank you very much."

All at once it struck me that there was something unutterably sad about the tones; something unspeakably sad, too, in the looks of the two women and the man, something bleak that seemed to pervade the atmosphere like a dissolved essence, until I caught its contagion and felt as if a whole world's sorrow were pressing down upon my head.

Now, as never before, I wanted to flee. But something held me rooted to the spot. I was like a man in a dread dream, who knows he is dreaming and yet cannot awaken; repelled and at the same time fascinated, I watched the elder woman approach with outflung arms.

II

HERE was, let me not deny it, a seductive charm about her glowing femininity. Although she was no longer young—I took her to be somewhere in the nether years just beyond thirty-five—there was something extraordinarily appealing and sweet in the smile which she flashed upon me, a plaintive smile as of one who looks at you from depths of unbearable suffering. At the same time, there was something that drew me to her; held me spellbound with a magnetic compulsion. I could have imagined men easily and willingly enslaved to that woman.

"Monsieur," she pleaded—and for the sake of convenience I give the English equivalent of her words—"monsieur, they have ringed us around. What are we to do? In the name of the good Lord, what are we to do?"

"They permit us not even a newspaper, monsieur," rumbled the heavy voice of the man, as his portly form slouched forward.

"They stand over us all the time. We have no privacy except in our beds," put in the younger woman, with a despairing gesture of one bony hand.

"They inspect all our food—every bit of bread and meat, suspecting it may contain secret papers," the elder woman lamented. "Worse still—our doors are all locked from outside. We can hardly move a step without being trailed by a guard. We cannot read, we can hardly think without being inspected. Oh, was ever any one tormented with such vile persecution?"

"Was anyone ever tormented with such vile persecution?" the second lady took up the cry, in a thin wailing voice that sent the shudders again coursing down my spine.

As if by instinct, I was backing toward the door. I wondered if I were not the victim of some frightful hallucination.

"But what do you want me to do?" I blurted out, as with one hand I groped behind me for the doorknob.

"Do? What do we want you to do, monsieur?" groaned the elder woman. "Speak with them! Plead with them! Beg them to treat us like human beings—not like beasts in cages!"

"But who am I to speak to? Who are they? What do you mean, Madam?"

"Who but our persecutors—our oppressors?"

"Who but our persecutors—our


text: Kuhn v. Primer

title: Kuhn v. Primer


text: Hocker v. Stricker

title: Hocker v. Stricker


text:
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 ?" echoed the other woman, with a ghostly repetition of the words.

By this time it was so dark that the five persons made but shadows indistinctly seen against the dungeon-like gloom. There was no arguing now with my fear; it was taking command of me; the next instant, had the man not surmised my thoughts by some clairvoyant perception, I would have left the dolorous strangers to their fate and dashed pellmell down the tower stairs.

"Hold, monsieur," his voice detained me. "It is growing late—we need a light."

And then, with startled eyes, I witnessed one of the eeriest, one of the most inexplicable incidents of all. Suddenly, though I had seen no lantern, there was a light in the room! It was a sort of gray-white phosphorescence, midway between the hue of a light fog and that of pewter; and it seemed to come from nowhere in particular, but filled the room with a fluctuating radiance, at times bright enough to reveal every object, at times permitting everything to sink back almost into invisibility. By this illumination all things—even the man's beefy face—took on a ghastly pallor; my own hand, outstretched in a gesture of spontaneous horror, startled me with its pale, spectral quality.

"Do not be afraid, monsieur," one of the women spoke reassuringly. "They will not find you. The guards were sleeping; else you could not have come up. You were heaven-sent to help us in our need."

My knees quivering beneath me, I did not feel heaven-sent to help anyone. In that uncanny wavering light, which struck my disordered imagination as almost sepulchral, I was more frightened than in the darkness. I was just a little relieved, however, to see how the small boy, curled up near the wall with some straw for a pillow, was sleeping an apparently normal childhood sleep.

Nevertheless, I had found the doorknob, and was drawing it toward me.. A blast of chilly air, contrasting weirdly with the heat of the summer evening, swept up the tower stairs.

A second more, and I would have been gone. But the elder woman, crossing the loom like a flash of light, had placed herself next to me; between me and the door. I could see her big sad eyes, not a foot from mine, glowing as if from immense hollow depths; I could see her long, pale proud face alternately brightening and darkening by the flickers of the changeable unearthly light. And once more she exercised that strange, that magical compulsion upon me. My limbs were frozen. I could merely stare—and wonder.

"It is not for our own sakes, monsieur," she resumed, in a voice that shook and wavered even more than did the light. "It is not for our own sakes that I beg your aid, but for our poor, innocent children. For their sakes, in the name of heaven's mercy, go out and plead with our oppressors, monsieur. Rush forth—rush forth and summon help, before it is too late!"

"Before it is too late!" came a low sobbing echo.

"But you—who are you?" I demanded, growing more mystified from minute to minute.

"We? Who are we? Is there anyone in all Paris that does not know?"

"Is there anyone in all Paris that does not know?" there sounded a sobbing refrain. But they seemed not to hear, or at least not to believe my denials.

"Look at me! Do you not recognize me?" the man demanded, thrusting his face within inches of mine. "Who in all the land could help recognizing me?"

Observing the round, commonplace features, the paunchy cheeks, the sensual lips and dull eyes, I failed to recognize anyone I had ever known.

"Ah, monsieur, you must be a stranger in the land."

"I—I—yes, I am a stranger—from California," I managed to grasp at a straw.

"From where do you say, monsieur?" he asked, as if he had never heard of my native state. And then dismally he went on, half to himself, "Am I then so changed by my hardships that I cannot be recognized? Ah, no doubt I had a different look in the old times, when I went forth daily in the hunt. Yes, that was a sport worthy of a king—chasing the antlered stag. A sport worthy of a king!"


text: Busby v. Busby

title: Busby v. Busby


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 42 number 04.djvu/42

 "And I," bewailed the elder woman, her eyes downcast, her whole form seeming indistinctly to sag, "perhaps I also am changed—oh, how changed from the days when I led in gay revels and frolics, and banquets and masked balls, and was merry the whole day long—and the whole night long, too! Little did I suspect, in those old happy times, what a bitter blow was in store for me!"

"Little did I suspect," moaned the second woman. "Little did we all suspect!"

Had I chanced upon a band of lunatics? Was this old tower the hospital where these poor deranged wretches were kept? This seemed to me, all in all, the most plausible solution. Nevertheless, it did not explain the weird light, which still pervaded the grim round tower room from some unseen source. Nor did it account for various other incidents, which I report even now with a tingling sensation along the spine and a numbing clutch at the heart.

III

T MAY have been only the wind; but the door, which I had opened slightly, suddenly closed with a dull thudding jar. Yet how could it have been the wind, since the door opened inward, and hence a breeze from below would have pushed the door wider open? And from inside the closed room, how could an air current originate? But I was sure that no hand, and least of all mine, had touched the door.

Even as I struggled to regain my composure, I reached again for the door handle, more determined than ever to leave. But, as I did so, my shaken nerves were shattered by another shock. With a series of high-pitched yipping barks, a small creature ran out as if from nowhere and began cavorting about my knees. Where had the little dog come from? I was certain it had not been in the room before. I was equally convinced that there was no way for it to enter.


text: Millar v. Hall

title: Millar v. Hall


text:
Page:Weird Tales volume 42 number 04.djvu/43

 By the flickering grayish-white light, it had a sort of half-solid appearance as I reached down to pet it; and somehow I was not quite able to place a hand upon it. Eluding my touch, it ran over to the elder woman, who bent down and caressed it. And then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. But from someone's throat—the adolescent girl's, I believe—there burst a spasm of uncanny hollow laughter.

Then, as I pulled at the doorknob, the elder woman was again at my side, her lovely sad eyes fixing me with a stare of such terrible intensity that I was gripped powerless in my place. My hand dropped from the doorknob; for the first time, I knew myself to be a prisoner.

"What is to happen to us, monsieur?" she lamented, not hysterically, but with an air of dignified restraint beneath which I could feel the hot passion smoldering. "What is to happen to us all? Time after time we hear the tocsin sounding below us on the streets. We hear the crowds shouting. But we can only guess what it all means. Can you not tell us, monsieur, what it means?"

"Can you not tell us, monsieur?" echoed the younger woman.

I shook my head, helplessly.

"Ah, monsieur, you are like them all," the first speaker sighed. "Like the guards—like that monster who has charge of us. You know, yet you will tell us nothing."

"You know, yet you will tell us nothing," came the unfailing repetition.

"I feel it in my bones, a worse fate is in store for us," the woman moaned, while one pale hand moved significantly across her neck. "My sainted mother, who was far wiser than I, foresaw it all long ago; but then I was too young and giddy to listen. Now that she is in her grave—monsieur, sometimes at night I can see her before me, warning, warning, warning——"

"Warning, warning, warning——" took up the other woman.

"Come, come now. Things are not always so bad, are they?" the rumbling voice of the man broke out in incongruous, soothing contrast. "We have no complaints about many things—least of all, about the food, now have we? At noon we have three soups, two entrees, two roasts, fruit, cheese, claret, and champagne—it is not all we have known in our better days, monsieur, but it is not bad. It is not bad. Then the boy and I, on fine days, are allowed to walk in the court below—"

"You can walk there, but not I!" broke out the elder woman, who was evidently his wife. "You can submit yourself to the staring insolence of those beasts of guards—not I! You can console yourself with your fine meals—not I, not I! I—I think of the fate that is in store for us all. I—I think of the future of our poor children!"

"I—think of the future of our poor children!" came the inevitable echo.

The boy, slumbering against the wall, chose this particular moment to turn over in his sleep and moan.

FOR my part would have left then and there—had this been possible. But even if I had not already been riveted to the spot, I would have been held by the woman's anguished cry.

"Think of our friends—our poor friends—the ones who did not escape, or came back out of loyalty to us—those tigers in human form have cut their heads from their bodies—torn them limb from limb!"

"Have cut their heads from their bodies—torn them limb from limb!"

"Come, come, my dear," interposed the man, still in a placating voice, "we cannot always think of these horrible things. Come, come, play for me at the clavecin, as of old—sing to me, my dear."

As if from nowhere, an old-fashioned musical instrument—a clavecin, or harpsichord—appeared before us. It could not have been there before without being seen, for it was a huge thing on legs, nearly as large as a modern piano. Yet there it was, clearly visible in the wavering grayish light; with a stool before it, at which the elder woman seated herself.

As my lips opened in a half-uttered cry of horror, the player began plucking at the strings—and the strangest melodies I had ever heard began coming forth, while she accompanied them in a quivering sad voice


text: Respublica v. Gordon

title: Respublica v. Gordon