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The New International Encyclopædia/Gotti, Girolamo Maria

GOTTI, gṓ'tē, (1834—). An Italian prelate of the Roman Catholic Church. He was born in Genoa, where his father was a dock laborer. He joined the Carmelite Order at an early age, and, showing an unusual bent toward physical science, was made professor of mathematics and natural philosophy in one of their colleges. Later he became provincial, and a consulter of the Roman congregations. His diplomatic ability caused him to be selected for various special missions to South American States, which he fulfilled with success, especially in Brazil. In 1895 he was created a cardinal, and later prefect of the Congregation of Bishops and Regulars. In 1902 he was selected, on the death of Cardinal Ledochowski, as prefect of the ../Propaganda/ (q.v.)—a still more important office, practically second in importance and responsibility to the Papacy, for the succession to which his name was frequently mentioned, especially as the candidate of the Jesuit Order.


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304 also among the inhabitants of Porto Rico reveal a rapid change in cephalic index. This suggests that there are some powerful environmental and physiological factors in the cause complex that produces head form. As compared with heredity, these are minor factors, but still strong enough to produce modifications of several numerical units in the calculated indices. Certain empirical observations led Boas to assume a change of five to six units possible in a few generations. Unfortunately, all these observations have been upon Europeans, but it seems a fair assumption that if the principle is found to hold for one, it will also hold for the other.

In the earlier parts of this chapter we found evidences of homogeneity, and though there is a perplexing range of variation in head form, the question still remains as to whether these fluctuations are not mere pulsations around a single norm. If such they prove to be, then we have homogeneity in head form as well as in other characters. This is a difficult problem, but some approach to its solution can be made by statistical methods.

First, on a priori grounds we have a right to expect that, if more than one type of cephalic index exists here in the New World, the observed indices for the successive groups of natives will tend to cluster around separate nodes, or norms, when we treat them as a series. To apply this test, we have collected all the observations that the literature of the subject brought to our notice and combined them into a single series. For precision, we have tabulated the indices for skulls and living subjects separately, and for further check upon the result we have tabulated absolute skull measurements for length and breadth of head (p. 305).

Close inspection of these distributions suggests that the two for the cephalic index will be found to approximate the normal, or symmetrical type, found in homogeneous groups. Also, the series for absolute length and breadth of head show fairly symmetrical distributions. From all this one may suspect that there is, after all, but one type of head form for the New World.

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 and deprived of his estates. The crown however, made a grant of the property, on 26 Sept. 1661, to Brian, viscount Cullen, and four others, as trustees for his wife, Lady Mary Heveningham, and thus the estate was recovered to the family (Cal. State Papers, Dom. 1661–2, pp. 97, 158). Owing to the exertions of the Careys, earls of Dover, into which family Heveningham had married, Charles ultimately resolved to spare his life (ib. Dom. 1660–1, pp. 312, 313). In 1662 Lady Mary Heveningham petitioned the king to be allowed to remove her husband from Windsor Castle to her own house at Heveningham in Suffolk (ib. 1661–2, p. 624). On 15 Aug. 1664 a warrant was issued to Lord Mordaunt, constable of Windsor Castle, to take Heveningham into custody and keep him safe until further orders (ib. Dom. 1663–4, p. 667). In September 1667 he was still confined in Windsor Castle (ib. Dom. 1667, p. 465). He died on 21 Feb. 1677–8, and was buried in Ketteringham Church on the 25th of the same month (parish register). His grave is covered with a plain slab of black marble. During the same year, 1678, Lady Mary Heveningham erected on the north side of the chancel a sumptuous marble monument to herself, children, and husband, but carefully omitted his name from the inscription. Heveningham was twice married, first by license dated 23 Nov. 1629 to Catherine, daughter of Sir Henry Wallop of Farley, Wiltshire (, London Marriage Licenses, 1521–1869, ed. Foster, col. 673), who died without surviving issue on 13 Aug. 1648, and was buried at Heveningham. He married, secondly, Mary, only surviving daughter and heiress of Sir John Carey, K.B., who succeeded in April 1666 as second earl of Dover. Their son William was knighted on 19 May 1674 (, Cat. of Knights, 1660–1760, p. 35), and was buried at Heveningham on the following 14 Oct. (parish register). Lady Mary Heveningham died at her house in Jermyn Street, London, on 19 Jan. 1695–6, and was buried at Ketteringham on 9 Feb. (ib.)

HEWETT, GEORGE (1750–1840), commander-in-chief in India, born 11 June 1750, was only son of Major Schuckburgh Hewett (a descendant of an old Leicestershire family, who served under the Duke of Cumberland as an officer in the 3rd Buffs) and his wife, Anne Ward. He was sent to the grammar school at Wimborne, Dorsetshire, and his parents having died, resided with the Rev. William Major, rector of Wichley, Wiltshire. In 1761 he was entered as a cadet at the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, and the year after was given an ensigncy in the 70th foot, whose colonel, Cyrus Trapaud, had been a friend of his father. Hewett accompanied the regiment to the West Indies, where he served ten years. He served against the maroons in Grenada, and was brigade-major of the troops sent from that island to St. Vincent's during the Carib insurrection there. Returning home with his regiment in 1774, he obtained his company the year after, and went with the corps to Halifax, Nova Scotia, whence he was detached with the grenadier company to Long Island, and served with it as part of the 2nd battalion of grenadiers at the siege of Charleston. He afterwards embarked with it as marines on board Admiral Digby's [q. v.] flagship, in which Prince William, afterwards William IV, was serving as midshipman. He obtained a majority by purchase in the 43rd foot, and as deputy quartermaster-general accompanied a brigade of reinforcements under General O'Hara to the West Indies. He returned to New York after Rodney's defeat of the French fleet in 1782. Hewett commanded the 2nd battalion of grenadiers at New York until invalided home. When subsequently doing royal duty with his regiment, the 43rd, at Windsor, then a line station, he was very favourably noticed by George III. He proceeded in command of the regiment to Ireland in 1790. Three years later he was made adjutant-general in Ireland, and held the post until 1799. In 1794 he raised an Irish regiment, numbered as the 92nd—the third of four which have borne that number—which was drafted soon after. He became a major-general in 1796. He is credited with originating the ideas of a brigade of instruction in light duties, the command of which was given to (Sir John) Moore, and of a permanent commissariat staff (Private Record, p. 28). Lord Cornwallis refers to Hewett's removal to the English staff in 1799 as a very serious loss (Cornwallis Correspondence, iii. 119). Hewett was appointed to succeed Lieutenant-general Fox [see, 1755–1811] as head of the recruiting department in 1799, with a district


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The Singular Death of Morton

Dusk was melting into darkness as the two men slowly made their way through the dense forest of spruce and fir that clothed the flanks of the mountain. They were weary with the long climb, for neither was in his first youth, and the July day had been a hot one. Their little inn lay further in the valley among the orchards that separated the forest from the vineyards.

Neither of them talked much. The big man led the way, carrying the knapsack, and his companion, older, shorter, evidently the more fatigued of the two, followed with small footsteps.

From time to time he stumbled among the loose rocks. An exceptionally observant mind would possibly have divined that his stumbling was not entirely due to fatigue, but to an absorption of spirit that made him careless how he walked.

'All right behind?' the big man would call from time to time, half glancing back.

'Eh? What?' the other would reply, startled out of a reverie.

'Pace too fast?'

'Not a bit. I'm coming.' And once he added: 'You might hurry on and see to supper, if you feel like it. I shan't be long behind you.'

But his big friend did not adopt the suggestion. He kept the same distance between them. He called out the same question at intervals, Once or twice he stopped and looked back too.

In this way they came at length to the skirts of the wood. A deep hush covered all the valley; the limestone ridges they had climbed gleamed down white and ghostly upon them from the fading sky. Midway in its journeys, the evening wind dropped suddenly to watch the beauty of the moonlight -- to hold the branches still so that the light might slip between and weave its silver pattern on the moss below.

And, as they stood a moment to take it in, a step sounded behind them on the soft pine-needles, and the older man, still a little in the rear, turned with a start as though he had been suddenly called by name.

'There's that girl -- again!' he said, and his voice expressed a curious mingling of pleasure, surprise and -- apprehension.

Into a patch of moonlight passed the figure of a young girl, looked at them as though about to stop yet thinking better of it, smiled softly, and moved on out of sight into the surrounding darkness. The moon just caught her eyes and teeth, so that they shone; the rest of her body stood in shadow; the effect was striking -- almost as though head and shoulders hung alone in mid air, watching them with this shining smile, then fading away.

'Come on, for heaven's sake,' the big man cried. There was impatience in his manner, not unkindness. The other lingered a moment, peering closely into the gloom where the girl had vanished. His friend repeated his injunction, and a moment later the two had emerged upon the high road with the village lights in sight beyond, and the forest left behind them like a vast mantle that held the night within its folds.

For some minutes neither of them spoke; then the big man waited for his friend to draw up alongside.

'About all this valley of the Jura,' he said presently, 'there seems to me something -- rather weird.' He shifted the knapsack vigorously on his back. It was a gesture of unconscious protest.

'Something uncanny,' he added, as he set a good pace.

'But extraordinarily beautiful -- '

'It attracts you more than it does me, I think,' was the short reply.

'The picturesque superstitions still survive here,' observed the older man. 'They touch the imagination in spite of oneself.'

A pause followed during which the other tried to increase the pace. The subject evidently made him impatient for some reason.

'Perhaps,' he said presently. 'Though I think myself it's due to the curious loneliness of the place. I mean, we're in the middle of tourist-Europe here, yet so utterly remote. It's such a neglected little corner of the world. The contradiction bewilders. Then, being so near the frontier, too, with the clock changing an hour a mile from the village, makes one think of time as unreal and imaginary.' He laughed. He produced several other reasons as well. His friend admitted their value, and agreed half-heartedly. He still turned occasionally to look back. The mountain ridge where they had climbed was clearly visible in the moonlight.

'Odd,' he said, 'but I don't see that farmhouse where we got the milk anywhere. It ought to be easily visible from here.'

'Hardly -- in this light. It was a queer place rather, I thought,' he added. He did not deny the curiously suggestive atmosphere of the region, he merely wanted to find satisfactory explanations. 'A case in point, I mean. I didn't like it quite -- that farmhouse -- yet I'm hanged if I know why. It made me feel uncomfortable. That girl appeared so suddenly, although the place seemed deserted. And her silence was so odd. Why in the world couldn't she answer a single question? I'm glad I didn't take the milk. I spat it out. I'd like to know where she got it from, for there was no sign of a cow or a goat to be seen anywhere!'

'I swallowed mine -- in spite of the taste,' said the other, half smiling at his companion's sudden volubility.

Very abruptly, then, the big man turned and faced his friend. Was it merely an effect of the moonlight, or had his skin really turned pale beneath the sunburn?

'I say, old man,' he said, his face grave and serious, 'What do you think she was? What made her seem like that, and why the devil do you think she followed us?'

'I think,' was the slow reply, 'it was me she was following.'

The words, and particularly the tone of conviction in which they were spoken, clearly were displeasing to the big man, who already regretted having spoken so frankly what was in his mind. With a companion so imaginative, so impressionable, so nervous, it had been foolish and unwise. He led the way home at a pace that made the other arrive five minutes in his rear, panting, limping and perspiring as if he had been running.

'I'm rather for going on into Switzerland tomorrow, or the next day,' he ventured that night in the darkness of their two-bedded room. I think we ye had enough of this place. Eh? What do you think?'

But there was no answer from the bed across the room, for its occupant was sound asleep and snoring.

'Dead tired, I suppose!' he muttered to himself, and then turned over to follow his friend's example. But for a long time sleep refused him. Queer, unwelcome thoughts and feelings kept him awake -- of a kind he rarely knew, and thoroughly disliked. It was rubbish, yet it made him uncomfortable so that his nerves tingled. He tossed about in the bed. 'I'm overtired,' he persuaded himself, 'that's all.'

The strange feelings that kept him thus awake were not easy to analyse, perhaps, but their origin was beyond all question: they grouped themselves about the picture of that deserted,.tumble-down chÃ¢let on the mountain ridge where they had stopped for refreshment a few hours before. It was a farmhouse, dilapidated and dirty, and the name stood in big black letters against a blue background on the wall above the door: 'La Chenille.' Yet not a living soul was to be seen anywhere about it; the doors were fastened, windows shuttered; chimneys smokeless; dirt, neglect and decay everywhere in evidence.

Then, suddenly, as they had turned to go, after much vain shouting and knocking at the door, a face appeared for an instant at a window, the shutter of which was half open. His friend saw it first, and called aloud. The face nodded in reply, and presently a young girl came round the corner of the house, apparently by a back door, and stood staring at them both from a little distance.

And from that very instant, so far as he could remember, these queer feelings had entered his heart -- fear, distrust, misgiving. The thought of it now, as he lay in bed in the darkness, made his hair rise. There was something about that girl that struck cold into the soul. Yet she was a mere slip of a thing, very pretty, seductive even, with a certain serpent-like fascination about her eyes and movements; and although she only replied to their questions as to refreshment with a smile, uttering no single word, she managed to convey the impression that she was a managing little person who might make herself very disagreeable if she chose. In spite of her undeniable charm there was about her an atmosphere of something sinister. He himself did most of the questioning, but it was his older friend who had the benefit of her smile. Her eyes hardly ever left his face, and once she had slipped quite close to him and touched his arm.

The strange part of it now seemed to him that he could not remember in the least how she was dressed, or what was the colouring of her eyes and hair. It was almost as though he had felt, rather than seen, her presence.

The milk -- she produced a jug and two wooden bowls after a brief disappearance round the corner of the house -- was -- well, it tasted so odd that he had been unable to swallow it, and had spat it out. His friend, on the other hand, savage with thirst, had drunk his bowl to the last drop too quickly to taste it even, and, while he drank, had kept his eyes fixed on those of the girl, who stood close in front of him.

And from that moment his friend had somehow changed. On the way down he said things that were unusual, talking chiefly about the 'Chenille', and the girl, and the delicious, delicate flavour of the milk, yet all phrased in such a way that it sounded singular, unfamiliar, unpleasant even.

Now that he tried to recall the sentences the actual words evaded him; but the memory of the uneasiness and apprehension they caused him to feel remained. And night ever italicizes such memories!

Then, to cap it all, the girl had followed them. It was wholly foolish and absurd to feel the things he did feel; yet there the feelings were, and what was the good of arguing? That girl frightened him; the change in his friend was in some way or other a danger signal. More than this he could not tell. An explanation might come later, but for the present his chief desire was to get away from the place and to get his friend away, too.

And on this thought sleep overtook him -- heavily.

The windows were wide open; outside was a garden with a rather high enclosing wall, and at the far end a gate that was kept locked because it led into private fields and so, by a back way, to the cemetery and the little church. When it was open the guests of the inn made use of it and got lost in the network of fields and vines, for there was no proper route that way to the road or the mountains. They usually ended up prematurely in the cemetery, and got back to the village by.passing through the church, which was always open; or by knocking at the kitchen doors of the other houses and explaining their position. Hence the gate was locked now to save trouble.

After several hours of hot, unrefreshing sleep the big man turned in his bed and woke. He tried to stretch, but couldn't; then sat up panting with a sense of suffocation. And by the faint starlight of the summer night, he saw next that his friend was up and moving about the room.

Remembering that sometimes he walked in his sleep, he called to him gently:

'Morton, old chap,' he said in a low voice, with a touch of authority in it, 'go back to bed!

You've walked enough for one day!'

And the figure, obeying as sleep-walkers often will, passed across the room and disappeared among the shadows over his bed. The other plunged and burrowed himself into a comfortable position again for sleep, but the heat of the room, the shortness of the bed, and this tiresome interruption of his slumbers made it difficult to lose consciousness. He forced his eyes to keep shut, and his body to cease from fidgeting, but there was something nibbling at his mind like a spirit mouse that never permitted him to cross the frontier into actual oblivion. He slept with one eye open, as the saying is. Odours of hay and flowers and baked ground stole in through the open window; with them, too, came from time to time sounds -- little sounds that disturbed him without being ever loud enough to claim definite attention.

Perhaps, after all, he did lose consciousness for a moment -- when, suddenly, a thought came with a sharp rush into his mind and galvanized him once more into utter wakefulness. It amazed him that he had not grasped it before. It was this: the figure he had seen was not the figure of his friend.

Alarm gripped him at once before he could think or argue, and a cold perspiration broke out all over his body. He fumbled for matches, couldn't find them; then, remembering there was electric light, he scraped the wall with his fingers -- and turned on the little white switch. In the sudden glare that filled the room he saw instantly that his friend's bed was no longer occupied. And his mind, then acting instinctively, without process of conscious reasoning, flew like a flash to their walk of the day -- to the tumble-down. 'Chenille,' the glass of milk, the odd behaviour of his friend, and -- to the girl.

At the same second he noticed that the odour in the room which hitherto he had taken to be the composite odour of fields, flowers and night, was really something else: it was the odour of freshly turned earth. Immediately on the top of this discovery came another. Those slight sounds he had heard outside the window were not ordinary night-sounds, the murmur of wind and insects: they were footsteps moving softly, stealthily down the little paths of crushed granite.

He was dressed in wonderful short order, noticing as he did so that his friend's night-garments lay upon the bed, and that he, too, had therefore dressed; further -- that the door had been unlocked and stood half an inch ajar. There was now no question that he had slept again:

between the present and the moment when he had seen the figure there had been a considerable interval. A couple of minutes later he had made his way cautiously downstairs and was standing on the garden path in the moonlight. And as he stood there, his mind filled with the stories the proprietor had told a few days before of the superstitions that still lived in the popular imagination and haunted this little, remote pine-clad valley. The thought of that girl sickened him. The odour of newly-turned earth remained in his nostrils and made his gorge rise. Utterly and vigorously he rejected the monstrous fictions he had heard, yet for all that, could not prevent their touching his imagination as he stood there in the early hours of the morning, alone with night and silence. The spell was undeniable; only a mind without sensibility could have ignored it.

He searched the little garden from end to end. Empty! Opposite the high gate he stopped, peering through the iron bars, wet with dew to his hands. Far across the intervening fields he fancied something moved. A second later he was sure of it. Something down there to the right beyond the trees was astir. It was in the cemetery.

And this definite discovery sent a shudder of terror and disgust through him from head to foot.

He framed the name of his friend with his lips, yet the sound did not come forth. Some deeper instinct warned him to hold it back. Instead, after incredible efforts, he climbed that iron gate and dropped down into the soaking grass upon the other side. Then, taking advantage of all the cover he could find, he ran, swiftly and stealthily, towards the cemetery. On the way, without quite knowing why he did so, he picked up a heavy stick; and a moment later he stood beside the low wall that separated the fields from the churchyard -- stood and stared.

There, beside the tombstones, with their hideous metal wreaths and crowns of faded flowers, he made out the figure of his friend; he was stooping, crouched down upon the ground; behind him rose a couple of bushy yew trees, against the dark of which his form was easily visible. He was not alone; in front of him, bending close over him it seemed, was another figure -- a slight, shadowy, slim figure.

This time the big man found his voice and called aloud:

'Morton, Morton!' he cried. 'What, in the name of heaven, are you doing? What's the matter?'

And the instant his deep voice broke the stillness of the night with its clamour, the little figure, half hiding his friend, turned about and faced him. He saw a white face with shining eyes and teeth as the form rose; the moonlight painted it with its own strange pallor; it was weird, unreal, horrible; and across the mouth, downwards from the lips to the chin, ran a deep stain of crimson.

The next moment the figure slid with a queer, gliding motion towards the trees, and disappeared among the yews and tombstones in the direction of the church. The heavy stick, hurled whirling after it, fell harmlessly halfway, knocking a metal cross from its perch upon an upright grave; and the man who had thrown it raced full speed towards the huddled up figure of his friend, hardly noticing the thin, wailing cry that rose trembling through the night air from the vanished form. Nor did he notice more particularly that several of the graves, newly made, showed signs of recent disturbance, and that the odour of turned earth he had noticed in the room grew stronger. All his attention was concentrated upon the figure at his feet.

'Morton, man, get up! Wake for God's sake! You've been walking in -- '

Then the words died upon his lips. The unnatural attitude of his friend's shoulders, and the way the head dropped back to show the neck, struck him like a blow in the face. There was no sign of movement. He lifted the body up and carried it, all limp and unresisting, by ways he never remembered afterwards, back to the inn.

It was all a dreadful nightmare -- a nightmare that carried over its ghastly horror into waking life. He knew that the proprietor and his wife moved busily to and fro about the bed, and that in due course the village doctor was upon the scene, and that he was giving a muddled and feverish description of all he knew, telling how his friend was a confirmed sleep-walker and all the rest.

But he did not realize the truth until he saw the face of the doctor as he straightened up from the long examination.

'Will you wake him?' he heard himself asking, 'or let him sleep it out till morning?' And the doctor's expression, even before the reply came to confirm it, told him the truth. 'Ah, monsieur, your friend will not ever wake again, I fear! It is the heart, you see; hÃ©las, it is sudden failure of the heart!'.The final scenes in the little tragedy which thus brought his holiday to so abrupt and terrible a close need no description, being in no way essential to this strange story. There were one or two curious details, however, that came to light afterwards. One was, that for some weeks before there had been signs of disturbance among newly-made graves in the cemetery, which the authorities had been trying to trace to the nightly wanderings of the village madman -- in vain; and another, that the morning after the death a trail of blood had been found across the church floor, as though someone had passed through from the back entrance to the front. A special service was held that very week to cleanse the holy building from the evil of that stain; for the villagers, deep in their superstitions, declared that nothing human had left that trail; nothing could have made those marks but a vampire disturbed at midnight in its awful occupation among the dead.

Apart from such idle rumours, however, the bereaved carried with him to this day certain other remarkable details which cannot be so easily dismissed. For he had a brief conversation with the doctor, it appears, that impressed him profoundly. And the doctor, an intelligent man, prosaic as granite into the bargain, had questioned him rather closely as to the recent life and habits of his dead friend. The account of their climb to the 'Chenille' he heard with an amazement he could not conceal.

'But no such chalet exists,' he said. 'There is no 'Chenille". A long time ago, fifty years or more, there was such a place, but it was destroyed by the authorities on account of the evil reputation of the people who lived there. They burnt it. Nothing remains today but a few bits of broken wall and foundation.'

'Evil reputation -- ?'

The doctor shrugged his shoulders 'Travellers, even peasants, disappeared,' he said. 'An old woman lived there with her daughter, and poisoned milk was supposed to be used. But the neighbourhood accused them of worse than ordinary murder -- '

'In what way?'

'Said the girl was a vampire,' answered the doctor shortly.

And, after a moment's hesitation, he added, turning his face away as he spoke:

'It was a curious thing, though, that tiny hole in your friend's throat, small as a pin-prick, yet so deep. And the heart -- did I tell you? -- was almost completely drained of blood.'

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Rh combination, and the vertical or Y distances, the corresponding total physical output of the group. In graphic terms the point where diminishing returns begin is the point (3) where this curve becomes tangent to a straight line through the origin. Less than this proportion of the variable agent cannot intelligently be employed even if it is free, for the output could be increased by discarding a portion of the other factors, if no more of the variable one could be obtained at a uniform price. It is true, necessarily and a priori, that there is such a point on the curve, that for less amounts the product increases in greater ratio than the factor. That is, for any point on the curve between this point (3) and the intersection of the curve with the X axis the tangent must cut the X axis positively. Now, if below this point (3) the tangent to the curve cuts the positive X axis, if at this point it passes through the origin and beyond this point it cuts the positive Y axis, then manifestly the curve is concave downward at the point in question. And this is the graphic condition representing decreasing increments of product. It seems reasonable to assume that the same condition (concavity downward) holds from point 3 to the maximum point (4), but this is not demonstrable a priori. If it is untrue for a certain stage in this interval between points 3 and 4 over the whole field of industry, as represented by the dotted line in the figure, there is indeterminateness in the competitive situation in that interval and to that extent, but this is a rather incredible supposition.

It is immaterial what shape the curve has below point 3 so long as its tangent always cuts the X axis. No doubt in any one industry the curve will show stages of increasing returns interspersed with stages of decreasing returns, and various proportions of combination of the factors are wise and stable.


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 tinghamshire (, South Yorkshire, i. 142;, Essex, Beacontree Hundred, pp. 3–4).

Hewett died on 25 Jan. 1566–7, and was buried beside his wife in St. Martin Orgar. His monument perished in the destruction of the church at the great fire of 1666. His will (printed by Mr. Chester Waters in his ‘Chesters of Chicheley,’ i. 228–9) is dated 3 Jan. 1566–7, and was proved in the P. C. C. 11 March [9 Stonarde]. Stow and Pennant state that a portrait of Hewett in his robes as lord mayor was preserved at Kiveton House, Yorkshire, the seat of the Duke of Leeds; it has since been removed to Hornby Castle. It is a half-length on board; his dress is a black gown, furred, with red vest and sleeves, a gold chain, and a bonnet.

Hewett married Alice, third daughter of Nicholas Leveson of Halling in Kent, a rich mercer of London and sheriff in 1534. Machyn speaks of her as ‘the good lady,’ for her pious and charitable works. She died on 8 April 1561, and was buried with great pomp on 17 April at St. Martin Orgar. By this marriage Hewett is said to have had several children, all of whom died in infancy except Anne, who was born in 1543, and was twenty-three years old at her father's death. According to Stow, Anne as a child, while playing at one of the windows of her father's house on London Bridge, was dropped by a careless maid into the river, and was rescued by Edward Osborne [q. v.], her father's apprentice. Osborne certainly married her afterwards, being preferred by Sir William above many other suitors, among them George Talbot, sixth earl of Shrewsbury, who was a member of the Clothworkers' Company (City Records, Repertory 15, fol. 66), and an intimate friend of Hewett. But the date of 1536 which Pennant assigns to the episode (Some Account of London, 1791, p. 322) is wrong, since Hewett had not married his wife, Alice Leveson, on 7 Nov. 1536 (, Genealogical Memoirs of the Chesters of Chicheley, i. 227; and statement corrected by the author); nor is there any proof that Hewett ever lived on London Bridge. Osborne, who became lord mayor, inherited through his wife the greater portion of her father's estates (Inq. post mortem, W. Hewett, 9 Eliz.), and his great-grandson was the well-known Earl of Danby and Duke of Leeds [see ].

HEWETT, WILLIAM NATHAN WRIGHTE (1834–1888), vice-admiral, son of Dr. William Hewett, physician to William IV, was born at Brighton on 12 Aug. 1834. He entered the navy in March 1847, and served as a midshipman in the Burmese war of 1851. In 1854, while acting mate of the Beagle gun-vessel, he was attached to the naval brigade in the Crimea, and on 26 Oct. was in command of a Lancaster gun in battery before Sebastopol. A column of Russians threatened it in flank, and hurried orders were sent to spike the gun and draw off the men. Hewett boldly answered that he took no orders that did not come from Captain Lushington, the commander of the brigade; and breaking down the side parapet of the battery, he slewed the gun round, and opened a terrible fire of grape on the Russian column, then barely three hundred yards distant. The effect in that part of the field was decisive. A few days later his gallant conduct at Inkerman (5 Nov.) was again reported by Captain Lushington, and he was immediately promoted to be lieutenant, with seniority of 26 Oct. He was also appointed to the command of the Beagle, in which he served during the war, especially in the operations against Kertch and in the Sea of Azof, and which he held after the peace till the summer of 1857. On the institution of the Victoria Cross Hewett was one of the first recipients, his conduct on 26 Oct. and 5 Nov. 1854 being equally named in the ‘Gazette,’ 24 Feb. 1857 (, The Victoria Cross, p. 43). His rank had been all this time only provisional; he now passed his examination at Portsmouth, and was appointed to the royal yacht, from which he was promoted to the rank of commander 13 Sept. 1858. He then successively commanded the Viper on the west coast of Africa, and the Rinaldo on the North American and West Indian station. On 24 Nov. 1862 he was made a captain. He afterwards commanded the Basilisk on the China station from 1865 to 1869; was flag-captain to Sir Henry Kellett in the Ocean on the China station from 1870 to 1872; was captain of the Devastation 1872–3; and from October 1873 to October 1876 was commodore and commander-in-chief on the west coast of Africa, in charge of the naval operations during the Ashantee war, being present at Amoaful and the capture of Coomassie. For his services during this campaign he was nominated a K.C.B. on 31 March 1874. In May 1877 he was appointed to the Achilles, and commanded her in the Mediterranean and the Sea of Marmora under Sir Geoffrey Hornby. He attained his flag on 21 March 1878, and in April 1882 he was appointed com-


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102 If men are supposed to know what they are doing there is no occasion for discussing the first and third stages at all. The boundaries of the second stage represent extreme limits where one agency or the other becomes a free good and passes out of consideration altogether. Beyond this point the product is absolutely diminished by increasing one agency or the other, as the case may be, which is an absurdity. The identity in meaning of the first and the third stages is evident; the first stage when passing in one direction is the third when reading the data in the opposite order. It is a mere matter of the arrangement of results, not of the results themselves. Beyond the limits of the stage of “decreasing returns,” therefore, or under circumstances where the law did not hold, there could not exist an “economic” situation. Unless the return per unit of any agency does decrease it is not productive at all; its use adds nothing to the output of the combination. If we imagine increasing returns the agency is negatively productive. This fact has been recognized in the case of land in the common statement that additional land would never be taken up until diminishing returns set in on that already in use.

The facts of variability in the proportions of agencies in the productive organization, and of the variation of the yield relative to the different agencies in accordance with the principle of diminishing returns not merely make


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The New International Encyclopædia/Göttingen

GÖTTINGEN, gẽ'tĭng-en. An old town of the Prussian Province of Hanover, situated on the Leine, 36 miles north by rail east of Cassel (Map: Prussia, C 3). With the exception of the fourteenth-century Rathaus, containing frescoes by Schaper, the modern theatre, and the famous Göttingen University (q.v.), the town has no buildings worthy of mention. Of its many educational institutions, the most noteworthy, aside from the university, are the gymnasium, founded at the end of the sixteenth century, the pedagogical seminary, and the municipal museum of

antiquities. The Aula has a picture collection with some good examples of the early Dutch and German schools. Göttingen is provided with a good water-supply. The chief manufactures are cloth, leather, scientific instruments, tobacco, and famous Bologna sausages. The Blumenbach collection of skulls is in Göttingen. Population, in 1890, 23,689; in 1900, 30,234, chiefly Protestants.

The town is first mentioned in the tenth century. It was given municipal rights by Otho IV. at the beginning of the thirteenth century, and in 1261 became the residence of the Princes of Brunswick-Lüneburg. It was a prominent member of the Hanseatic League, and famous for its cloth goods. Its prosperity was interrupted by the Thirty Years' War, when it fell twice into the hands of the Swedes. The establishment of the university gave Göttingen new importance, and at the close of the eighteenth century it was a flourishing literary centre.


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 mander-in-chief in the East Indies. During the Egyptian war of 1882 he conducted the naval operations in the Red Sea, especially the occupation of Suez and the seizure of the canal in August. The war in the Eastern Soudan again called him to the Red Sea. After the defeat of the Egyptians at El Teb Hewett landed with a force of seamen and marines for the defence of Suakim, 6 Feb. 1884, and on the 10th was formally appointed governor by Baker Pasha, as representative of the khedive. On the 29th he was present, unofficially, it would seem, at the second battle of El Teb. In April he went on a mission to King John of Abyssinia, whom, by judicious concessions on points relating to traffic, he induced to support the Egyptian garrisons in his neighbourhood, and more especially Kassala. On 8 July 1884 he became a vice-admiral, and from March 1886 to April 1888 was in command of the Channel fleet. He had been for some months in very delicate health, which became seriously worse after his retirement from his command; he was sent as a patient to Haslar Hospital, where he died on 13 May 1888. He married, in 1857, Jane Emily, daughter of Mr. T. Wood, consul for the Morea, and left issue, besides two daughters, three sons, two of whom, William Warrington Hewett and Edward Matson Hewett, became lieutenants in the navy. Besides the K.C.B. he was also K.C.S.I., chevalier of the Legion of Honour, of the Medjidie, and of the Abyssinian order of Solomon.

HEWIT or HEWETT, JOHN (1614–1658), royalist divine, fourth son of Thomas Hewett or Huet, a clothworker, was born at Eccles, Lancashire, in September 1614, and baptised there on the 4th of that month. He is said to have been educated first at Bolton-le-Moors and afterwards at Merchant Taylors' School. The last statement is very doubtful. According to the ‘Register of Merchant Taylors' School’ (ed. Rev. C. J. Robinson, i. 98), the only boy of the name at the school during this period was ‘John Hewet,’ born in September 1609 and admitted in 1619. But this entry cannot refer to the subject of this article, for the latter was admitted as a sizar at Pembroke College, Cambridge, 13 May 1633, at the age of eighteen, and matriculated 4 July. Of Hewit's Cambridge life it is only known that he never took a degree. He was at Oxford as one of Charles I's chaplains, and received the degree of D.D. by royal mandate on 17 Oct. 1643. Thence he is said to have been sent into Lancashire and Cheshire to advocate the royal cause. A few verses, found in some editions of ‘Εἰκὼν Βασιλικὴ,’ subscribed ‘J. H.,’ are attributed to him. He subsequently became chaplain to Montague Bertie [q. v.], second earl of Lindsey, at Havering in Essex, but removed to London on being chosen (in what year is not known) minister of St. Gregory's by St. Paul's. Here he was noted for his effective preaching, both by words and gesture, and for his devout and distinct reading of prayers (, Memoirs, 1668, p. 553), apparently continuing the use of the proscribed church service. Cromwell's daughter Mary was privately married by him to Lord Falconbridge in November 1657 (, xv. 101). His loyalty was so openly manifested that he occasionally made collections in his church for the exiled king under the transparent disguise of urging the congregation to ‘remember a distressed friend.’ When the Marquis of Ormonde came to England in February 1657–8 to ascertain the state of the royalist preparations, Hewit is said to have harboured him in London; but in his speech on the scaffold he declared that he could not remember ever having seen him. He was at the time actively engaged in correspondence with those who were attempting to organise a rising. Upon Cromwell's arresting John Stapley in April 1658, the latter confessed the plot in which he was engaged, related conferences he had held with Hewit, and declared he had received from Hewit's hands a commission from the king. Upon this, Hewit was arrested, and brought for trial before Cromwell's high court of justice on 1 June. Before this court he refused to plead, claiming the right to be tried by a jury, and putting in an able plea which had been drawn up for him by Prynne, and which was printed anonymously in the following year under the title of ‘Beheaded Dr. John Hewytt's Ghost pleading.’ He was sentenced on 2 June 1658 to be beheaded, and the sentence was carried out, in spite of Mrs. Claypoole's earnest intercession with Cromwell, on 8 June. On the scaffold he was attended by Dr. Wilde and Dr. Warmstry, and also by Dr. John Barwick, to whom shortly before he had entrusted some hundreds of pounds for transmission to the king, and who wore to the end of his life a ring which Hewit then gave him. He was buried on the day following in St. Gregory's Church, and on the next Sunday Nathaniel Hardy [q. v.] preached a funeral sermon on Isaiah lvii. 1, ‘The righteous perisheth,’ &c., with an outspokenness which implied assurance of general sympathy. The


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 sermon was printed surreptitiously and anonymously (often wrongly ascribed to Dr. G. Wilde), and Dr. Hardy thereupon boldly published a correct copy under his own name at the shop of a bookseller named Joseph Crawford, who had for his sign ‘The King's Head.’ Hewit's speech and prayer upon the scaffold were immediately printed in more than one edition, and mourning-rings were distributed to his friends, which were inscribed with the words ‘Herodes necuit Johannem.’ The publication of ‘Nine Select Sermons’ preached at St. Gregory's speedily followed. This volume was disavowed, as unauthorised by Dr. Wilde and Dr. Barwick on behalf of Hewit's widow, in a notice reprinted in a second volume of sermons entitled ‘Repentance and Conversion the Fabrick of Salvation; being the last Sermons preached by Dr. Hewytt.’ But Hardy, in the preface to the funeral sermon, speaks of ‘two books of sermons’ as having been surreptitiously issued, and implies that the second volume bore Barwick's and Wilde's names without their knowledge or consent.

Hewit married, first, a daughter of Robert Skinner, merchant-tailor, of London; and secondly, Mary, daughter of Robert Bertie, first earl of Lindsey [q. v.], who was slain at Edgehill. By his first wife he had three children, and by his second wife (who survived him) two daughters. When Dr. Barwick went to meet Charles II at Breda in 1660, among several petitions which he preferred to the king was one that Hewit's widow and his eldest son, John, might receive some recompense. In consequence an annuity of 100l. was granted to the son 19 Feb. 1661 (Cal. State Papers, Dom. 1660–1, p. 523). On 21 June in that year Lady Mary Hewit (who shortly afterwards was re-married to the well-known royalist, Sir Abraham Shipman) petitioned the House of Lords to except from the Act of Oblivion all those who had passed sentence on her husband.

Other publications under Hewit's name are: 1. ‘Certain Considerations against the Vanities of this World and the Terrors of Death, delivered to a friend a little before his death,’ in verse, on a single sheet. 2. ‘Letter to Dr. Wilde the day before he suffered death, read by Dr. Wilde at his funerall,’ a single sheet, London, 9 June 1658. 3. ‘Prayers of Intercession for their Use who mourn in Secret for the Publick Calamities of the Nation,’ 1659. A prayer is included in a collection of prayers used before and after sermons called ‘Pulpit Sparks,’ 1659. Portraits are prefixed to his sermons on repentance and to Prynne's plea. In a note in Ashmole MS., Bodleian Library, 826, f. 115, he is styled ‘doctor mellifluus, doctor altivolans, et doctor inexhaustibilis,’ and it is said that these three epithets can never be separated from him.

HEWITSON, WILLIAM CHAPMAN (1806–1878), naturalist, was born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne on 9 Jan. 1806. Educated at York, he was brought up as a land-surveyor, and was for some time employed under George Stephenson on the London and Birmingham railway. Delicate health and the accession to an ample fortune through the death of a relative led him to give up his profession and devote himself to scientific studies. After residing for a time at Bristol and Hampstead, he purchased in 1848 about ten or twelve acres of Oatlands Park, Surrey, and built a house there, in which the last thirty years of his life were spent, and where everything was arranged with a view to his favourite studies. In early life he collected British coleoptera and lepidoptera; he then devoted attention for some years to the study of birds' eggs, in 1833 making a trip to Norway to discover the breeding-places of some of our migratory species. Notes on ornithology and oology from his pen will be found in vol. ii. of Jardine's ‘Magazine of Zoology,’ in the ‘Ibis,’ the ‘Zoologist,’ and other periodicals; but from the date of his settlement near London he concentrated his attention on lepidoptera, more particularly the diurnal lepidoptera of the world. He bought specimens from travellers and naturalists in all quarters of the globe, whose expenses he often partly or wholly paid. In one instance a single specimen cost him 350l. He thus formed what was probably the most complete collection of diurnal lepidoptera in the world, and this, together with some choice pictures and water-colour drawings, and some valuable stuffed birds, he left to the nation; they are now in the natural history section of the British Museum in Cromwell Road, South Kensington. Hewitson was a most accomplished artist and scrupulously accurate draughtsman, and his figures, whether of birds' eggs or butterflies, are drawn and coloured with conscientious care, but they were, after all, only perfect diagrams, as he


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The New International Encyclopædia/Göttingen, University of

GÖTTINGEN,, or. A German university founded by Georg August, Elector of Hanover, better known as George II. of England. It was planned as early as 1732, there being no university in Hanover at that time, and lectures were begun two years later; but the formal foundation dates from 1737. Its organization was the work of the statesman Von Münchhausen, a man of marked ability, who remained in control fur many years. Noted teachers, a well-chosen library, a large endowment, and the liberal character of the university soon gave it distinction. The Seven Years' War was a time of de])ression, but between 1770 and 1790 it was again much frequented. The courses in history, philology, and law were preëminent; in the study of history especially broader and more liberal conceptions prevailed. During the French Revolution and the Napoleonic wars there was another period of depression, followed by renewed prosperity. In 1823 the attendance was greater than it is in 1903; but reverses in 1831 and 1837 brought affairs for a third time under a cloud. During the latter half of the nineteenth century, however, there was a slow and steady growth, due mainly to the excellence of the instruction in mathematics and the natural sciences. The students number nearly 1500. There are a large number of laboratories, clinics, seminaries, and the like. The library contains 6000 manuscripts and over 500,000 volumes; for modern books it is probably the richest in Germany. Consult: Pütter, Saalfeld, and Oesterley, Die Georg-August-Universität (Göttingen, 1838); Chronik der Georg-August-Universität für 1889-90 (Hanover, 1890).


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Hewitt intended them to be. In his own line, as a pictorial describer of butterflies, Hewitson stands unrivalled. He became a member of the Entomological Society in 1846, the Zoological in 1859, and the Linnean in 1862.

Hewitson died at Oatlands on 28 May 1878. He married about 1848, but his wife soon died, and left no children. He left his library of works on natural history, with a legacy of 3,000l., to the Natural History Society of Newcastle, his native town, and a large sum to the Müller Institute, Bristol. The rest of his fortune he bequeathed to various charities, and in legacies to friends interested in his own studies.

Hewitson's principal works are: 1. ‘British Oology,’ 3 vols., Newcastle-on-Tyne, 1833–42. 2. ‘Coloured Illustrations of the Eggs of British Birds,’ 2 vols., 1846; 3rd edit. 1856. 3. ‘The Genera of Diurnal Lepidoptera’ (written in conjunction with E. Doubleday), 1846, fol. 4. ‘Illustrations of New Species of Exotic Butterflies,’ 5 vols. 4to, 1851–76. 5. ‘Illustrations of Diurnal Lepidoptera,’ 2 vols. 4to, 1863–78. 6. ‘Descriptions of One Hundred New Species of Hesperidæ,’ 1867, &c. 7. ‘Descriptions of some New Species of Lycænidæ,’ 1868. 8. ‘Equatorial Lepidoptera,’ 1869–1870. 9. ‘Bolivian Butterflies,’ 1874, and a number of articles on kindred subjects in the magazines devoted to entomology and ornithology.

 HEWITT, JAMES, (1709–1789), lord chancellor of Ireland, born in Coventry in 1709, was son of William Hewitt, a mercer and draper, who was in 1744 mayor of Coventry. With the view of becoming an attorney he served his time with James Birch of the same place, receiver-general for the county of Warwick, but soon after resolved to join the bar, entered the Middle Temple in 1737, and was called in November 1742. Before long he secured a considerable share of business. He stood for Coventry unsuccessfully in 1754, but was returned for the borough at the general election in 1761. His legal success had procured him in 1755 the dignity of the coif, and four years after the position of king's serjeant. He was a ponderous speaker. Charles Townsend, when leaving the house one day, was asked ‘whether the house was up?’ ‘No,’ he replied, ‘but the serjeant is.’

On 6 Nov. 1766 Hewitt was appointed to a vacant judgeship in the king's bench, with the promise of further promotion, and on 9 Jan. 1768 received his patent as lord chancellor of Ireland. On the same day he was created Baron Lifford in the Irish peerage, and he was advanced to a viscountcy in January 1781. Lifford was lord chancellor of Ireland during the struggle between the two parliaments which resulted in the short-lived independence of the Irish legislature. He held the great seal for twenty-two years, longer than any of his predecessors from the time of Edward I. Having amassed a considerable fortune, the emoluments of the office in his time being estimated at 12,000l. per annum, he intended to resign on a pension, but died in Dublin, on 28 April 1789, of a severe cold caught at the House of Lords. He was buried in Christ Church Cathedral, where there is an inscription to his memory.

He married (1) the only daughter of the Rev. Rice Williams, D.D., rector of Stapleford Abbots, Essex, prebendary of Worcester, and archdeacon of Carmarthen, and had, with other issue, James (1750–1830), who succeeded him, and was for more than thirty years dean of Armagh; Joseph (d. 1794), who was a judge of the king's bench in Ireland; and John (d. 1804), who was dean of Cloyne; (2) Ambrosia, daughter of the Rev. Charles Bayley of Navestock, Essex, and by her also had issue.

Lifford's success as a judge was due to the accuracy of his technical knowledge and general professional skill; and though formal in manner, and with old-fashioned ideas, by his patience and urbanity he gained universal esteem. He was the first lord chancellor of Ireland whose judgments have been preserved. Many of them remain in manuscript; but a volume entitled ‘Reports of Select Cases argued and determined in the High Court of Chancery in Ireland, principally in the time of Lord Lifford,’ was published in 1839. Though these decisions range from 1767 to 1786, they were entirely overlooked by the profession until they appeared in print. They show a greater degree of legal learning and acquaintance with the authority of decided cases than the bar of Ireland at the time had credit for, and are the best monuments which we possess of the profession in the last century.

 HEWITT, JOHN (1719–1802), alderman of Coventry, a relative, perhaps uncle, of James Hewitt [q. v.], was born in that city


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 in 1719, and succeeded his father in business as a draper. He was three times elected mayor, in 1755, 1758, and 1760, and was for thirty years a justice of the peace. He published (1779–90) a journal of his magisterial proceedings ‘in cases of riots, coiners, murder, highway robberies, burglaries, returned transports, and every species of events that falls under the cognizance of the laws of this kingdom.’ The book is a curious medley, in which the record of offences more or less serious is found side by side with explanations of the criminal law, correspondence with official persons, and an account of the writer's municipal achievements and hospitalities. Hewitt also published ‘A Guide for Constables,’ 1779, and ‘Memoirs of Lady Wilbrihammon, alias Mollineux, alias Irving, an Impostress,’ Birmingham (1778?), 4to. He died 20 April 1802.

 HEWITT, JOHN (1807–1878), antiquary, born at Lichfield in 1807, studied music in youth, and was for some time organist of St. Mary's Church in that city. He also contributed to many periodicals. Subsequently he was appointed to a post in the war office, and while living in London was well known in literary society. He enjoyed the friendship of Bulwer Lytton, Mary Howitt, Mrs. S. C. Hall, Allan Cunningham, Leigh Hunt, and others, and wrote under the nom de guerre of ‘Sylvanus Swanquill.’ For many years he resided at Woolwich, but on his retirement from the war office he removed to Lichfield, where he died on 10 Jan. 1878.

His works are: 1. ‘The Tower [of London]: its History, Armories, and Antiquities: before and since the Fire,’ London, 1841, 8vo, published by the authority of the master-general and board of ordnance. It has gone through several editions in English, French, and Spanish. 2. ‘Chart of Ancient Armour from ye XI to ye XVII cent.,’ with descriptions of the figures in the chart [London, 1847], fol. and 8vo. 3. ‘Ancient Armour and Weapons in Europe: from the Iron period of the Northern nations to the end of the [seventeenth] century,’ 3 vols., London, 1855–60, 8vo. A work of great erudition. 4. ‘Official Catalogue of the Tower Armories,’ London, 1859, 12mo. 5. ‘Old Woolwich,’ 1860, published by the Royal Artillery Association. 6. ‘Handbook for the City of Lichfield and its Neighbourhood,’ Lichfield, 1874, 8vo; 2nd edit. 1884. 7. ‘Handbook of Lichfield Cathedral,’ 1875; 3rd edit., enlarged by the Dean of Lichfield (E. Bickersteth), Lichfield, 1886, 8vo. 8. An enlarged edition of Stothard's ‘Monumental Effigies,’ London, 1876. 9. Numerous contributions to the ‘Archæological Journal’ and the ‘Reliquary,’ including a series of papers in the latter on ‘Mediæval Arms and Armour.’

 HEWLETT, EBENEZER (fl. 1747), antitrinitarian writer, lived at the New Pales in Sun Street, without Bishopsgate, London, and was for a time employed by the East India Company. He wrote a number of theological tracts, the doctrines of which, he says, brought him ‘only poverty, disgrace, and loss of friends.’ Their titles are: 1. ‘An Answer to Mr. Tho. Chubb's Book entitled “The True Gospel of Jesus Christ,”’ 8vo, London, 1738. 2. ‘Mr. Whitefield's Chatechise. Being an Explanation of the Doctrine of the Methodists. In a Letter to Mr. Seagrave [occasioned by his answer to Dr. Trapp],’ 8vo, London, 1739. 3. ‘The Deist turned Christian, the Papist turned Protestant, and the Calvinist turned Arminian, by being undeceived concerning the Doctrine of Free Justification by Christ's Blood. By way of dialogue between E. Hewlett and a Deist,’ 8vo, London, 1740. 4. ‘Miracles real evidences of a Divine Revelation, and the influence of evil Angels carefully examin'd: in answer to Mr. Chubb's Discourse on Miracles, and Mr. Fleming's Animadversions thereon,’ 8vo, London, 1741. 5. ‘A Vindication of the Bible from the censures of the Deists and the inconsistencies of Popery and Calvinism, &c.,’ 8vo, London, 1741. 6. ‘Satisfaction by the Merits of Christ Blasphemy against God,’ 8vo, London, 1741. 7. ‘Letter to A. P.,’ 8vo, London, 1747, which was answered by A. P. in ‘A Discourse on the Trinity,’ 8vo, Reading, 1747.

 HEWLETT, JAMES (1768–1836), flower-painter, born 15 Sept. 1768, was son of a gardener and an associate in boyhood of John Britton, the Wiltshire antiquary ( Autobiog. 1850). He practised chiefly at Bath, painting flowers in water-colours, which are noted for good drawing, colour, and botanical accuracy. He occasionally painted other subjects, such as gipsies, and contributed to the Royal Academy and other exhibitions. He died at Park House, Isleworth, 18 Aug. 1836, and was buried in Isleworth Church, where a monument was erected by his widow. There are four drawings of flowers by him at


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Rh society which the Borgias set themselves to abolish in the dominions of the Church, and the influences which determined their unrelenting policy. It was a pacific mission. The legate went unarmed to try the force of persuasion, and to test the moral authority of the papacy in a district where the idea of the State was quenched in feudal strife, and each man's safety consisted in the terror he was able to inspire. In his first letter, on the day of his arrival at Narni, he announced that he could accomplish nothing without troops, as the demons he had to deal with were not to be frightened with holy water. The presence of a legate was so little heeded that Alviano, the same who afterwards commanded the Venetians when their power was broken at Agnadello, seized a town belonging to the Pope and sacked it almost before his face. Borgia sent for him, and summoned him to keep the peace. Alviano replied that he would gladly help the Pope to subdue his neighbours, but that he would destroy the town rather than give it up. It was soon discovered that the legate was not followed by an army; and things grew worse. The country was without police or law. The inhabitants of Todi, finding that there was no government to protect them, deserted the town in despair. Brigands held unmolested sway, and were only checked by rival bands. At Perugia the legate caused a murderer to be put to death. It was an immense achievement. Murder was


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The New International Encyclopædia/Göttling, Karl Wilhelm

GÖTTLING, gẽt'lĭng, (1793-1869). A German philologist, born at Jena. He studied under Wolf, Bückh, and Buttmann at Berlin, and after holding various minor professorships was appointed professor extraordinary of philology at Jena in 1822, and full professor in 1832. In 1826 he was made director of the Philological Seminary and university librarian. His chief works are: Ueber das Geschichtliche im Nibelungenliede (1814); Nibelungen und Ghibellinen (1817); Allgemeine Lehre vom Accent in der griechischen Sprache (5th ed. 1835, translated as Elements of Greek Accentuation, London, 1831); Geschichte der römischen Staatsverfassung bis auf Cäsars Tod (1840); and Gesammelte Abhandlungen aus dem

Altertum (vol. i. 1851, vol. ii. 1864); and editions of Aristotle's Politica (1824) and Œconomica (1830), and of Hesiod's Carmina (3d ed. 1878). His Opuscula Academica (1869) were published and edited after Göttling's death by Fischer. Consult: Der Briefwechsel zwischen Goethe und Göttling (Munich, 1880); Nipperdey, Memoria C. Goettlingii (Jena, 1869); and Lothholz, Karl Wilhelm Göttling (Stargard, 1876).


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 , vi. 668). On 8 July 1659 the committee for the nomination of officers appointed him commander-in-chief of the foot during his stay in Ireland, and on 26 Oct. following, after Lambert had expelled the parliament, Hewson was named one of the committee of safety established by the officers of the army (Cal. State Papers, Dom. 1659–1660, p. 13;, Chronicle, ed. 1670, p. 684). On 5 Dec. 1659 he was ordered to suppress a tumult of the London apprentices, who were petitioning for a free parliament, and in carrying out his orders two or three apprentices were killed and about twenty wounded (ib. p. 697;, p. 294; Public Intelligencer, 5–12 Dec. 1659). This made Hewson extremely unpopular, and gave rise to lampoons and caricatures which dwelt on his early occupation, his one eye, and other characteristics. Thomas Flatman [q. v.], in ‘Don Juan Lamberto’ (pt. i. chap. xviii.), gave a satirical account of his exploits against the apprentices, and prefixed to pt. ii. a caricature of ‘the giant Husonio.’ Edmund Gayton [q. v.] attacked him in ‘Walk, Knaves, Walk,’ 1659, a mock sermon on boots, supposed to have been preached by Hewson's chaplain. Ballads were circulated against him, like ‘The Cobbler's last Will and Testament, or the Lord Hewson's translation,’ and ‘A Hymn to the gentle Craft, or Hewson's Lamentation’ (The Rump, or an Exact Collection of the Choicest Poems, &c., 1662, ii. 145, 157; for caricatures see Catalogue of Prints and Drawings in the British Museum, ‘Satires,’ i. 519, 521, 535, 537, 548). On the restoration of the parliament (26 Dec. 1659), Hewson was pardoned by it, but seems to have lost his regiment (Commons' Journals, vii. 804). On 26 Jan. 1660 Pepys notes that a gibbet was set up in Cheapside with Hewson's picture upon it. In May he deemed it wise to leave England, and on 21 May the House of Commons was informed of his escape (, Register, p. 155).

Hewson was excepted from the act of indemnity (ib. pp. 176, 240). He is said by Wood to have died at Amsterdam in 1662 (Fasti, 1649). In March 1666 a wandering tobacco-seller who was arrested in England under the belief that he was Hewson stated that he was at Rouen when Hewson died there (Cal. State Papers, Dom. 1665–6, p. 321).

HEWSON, WILLIAM (1739–1774), surgeon and anatomist, son of William Hewson, surgeon, was born at Hexham, Northumberland, on 14 Nov. (O. S.) 1739. After attending Hexham grammar school, he was apprenticed to his father, and was also pupil to Mr. Lambert of Newcastle. In 1759 he came to London, lodged with John Hunter while attending the anatomical lectures of Dr. William Hunter [q. v.], and studied at St. Thomas's and Guy's hospitals. When John Hunter went abroad with the army in 1760 he left Hewson to instruct the other pupils in the dissecting-room. William Hunter afterwards proposed to Hewson to take him into partnership as a lecturer if he would study one year in Edinburgh. This arrangement was carried out, and in the autumn of 1762 Hewson returned to London, and began to share in the lectures and the profits of William Hunter's anatomical school, which was then in Litchfield Street, Soho. In 1765 Hewson went to France to visit the hospitals, but returned to give the winter lectures on anatomy. In 1768 he visited the coast of Sussex to study the lymphatic system in fishes, and made his researches the subject of a paper communicated in the following year to the Royal Society, which was rewarded with the Copley medal. On 8 March 1770 he was elected F.R.S. In 1769 William Hunter opened the celebrated anatomical school in Windmill Street, where a room was assigned to Hewson, who continued in partnership as lecturer, receiving a larger share of profits than before. He also obtained a not inconsiderable practice in surgery and midwifery. In 1770 he married Miss Mary Stevenson, a young lady whose intellectual culture had been much influenced by the interest taken in her by Benjamin Franklin, the American philosopher having lodged in her mother's house since he came to London in 1757. On his marriage Hewson removed to a house of his own in Craven Street, and this was made by William Hunter a ground for giving notice of breaking off their partnership. This was a blow to Hewson, especially as the building and anatomical museum necessary for carrying on the lectures were exclusively Hunter's property. Some disagreement arose about the right of Hewson to make preparations for his own use; but this was smoothed over by the mediation of Franklin. Hewson used his leisure during the year of notice provided for by the terms of partnership in making preparations for future use in his own lectures, and the museum thus formed was so valuable that it subsequently sold for 700l. In September 1772 Hewson began to lecture on his own account at a theatre which he built adjoining his own residence. His reputation was now so high, especially since the publication of various researches by him


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Tales Of The Uncanny And Supernatural/The Little Beggar

He was on his way from his bachelor flat to the club, a man of middle age with a slight stoop, and an expression of face firm yet gentle, the blue eyes with light and courage in them, and a faint hint of melancholy—or was it resignation?—about the strong mouth. It was early in April, a slight drizzle of warm rain falling through the coming dusk; but spring was in the air, a bird sang rapturously on a pavement tree. And the man’s heart wakened at the sound, for it was the lift of the year, and low in the western sky above the London roofs there was a band of tender colour.

His way led him past one of the great terminal stations that open the gates of London seawards; the birds, the coloured clouds, and the thought of a sunny coast-line worked simultaneously in his heart. These messages of spring woke music in him. The music, however, found no expression, beyond a quiet sigh, so quiet that not even a child, had he carried one in his big arms, need have noticed it. His pace quickened, his figure straightened up, he lifted his eyes and there was a new light in them. Upon the wet pavement, where the street lamps already laid their network of faint gold, he saw, perhaps a dozen yards front of him, the figure of a little boy.

The boy, for some reason, caught his attention and his interest vividly. He was dressed in Etons, the broad white collar badly rumpled, the pointed coat hitched grotesquely sidedays, while, from beneath the rather grimy straw hat, his thick light hair escaped at various angles. This general air of effort and distress was due to the fact that the little fellow was struggling with a bag packed evidently to bursting point, too big and heavy for him to manage for more than ten yards at a time. He changed it from one hand to the other, resting it in the intervals upon the ground, each effort making it rub against his leg so that the trousers were hoisted considerably above the boot. He was a pathetic figure.

‘I must help him,’ said the man. ‘He’ll never get there at this rate. He’ll miss his train to the sea.’ For his destination was obvious, since a pair of wooden spades was tied clumsily and insecurely to the straps of the bursting bag.

Occasionally, too, the lad, who seemed about ten years old, looked about him to right and left, questionably, anxiously, as though he expected someone—someone to help, or perhaps to meet him. His behaviour even gave the impression that he was not quite sure of his way. The man hurried to overtake him.

‘I really must give the little beggar a hand,’ he repeated to himself, as he went. He smiled. The fatherly, protective side of him, naturally strong, was touched—touched a little more, perhaps, than the occasion seemed to warrant. The smile broadened into a jolly laugh, as he came up against the great stuffed bag, now resting on the pavement, its owner panting beside it, still looking to right and left alternately. At which instant, exactly, the boy, hearing his step, turned round, and for the first time looked him full in the face with a pair of big blue eyes that held unabashed and happy welcome in them.

‘Oh, I say, sir, it’s most awfully ripping of you,’ he said in a confiding voice, before the man had time to speak. ‘I hunted everywhere; but I never thought of looking behind me.’

But the man, standing dumb and astonished for a few seconds beside the little fellow, missed the latter sentence altogether, for there was in the clear blue eyes an expression so trustful, so frankly affectionate almost, and in the voice music of so natural a kind, that all the tenderness in him rose; like a sudden tide, and he yearned towards the boy as though he were his little son.

Thought, born of some sudden revival of emotion, flashed back swiftly across a stretch of twelve blank years. . . and for an instant the lines of the mouth grew deeper, though in the eyes the light turned softer, brighter. ..

‘It’s too big for you, my boy,’ he said, recovering himself with a jolly laugh; ‘or, rather, you’re not big enough—yet—for it—eh! Where to, now? Ah! the station, I suppose?’ And he stooped to grasp the handles of the bulging bag, first poking the spades more securely in beneath the straps; but in doing so became aware that something the boy had said had given him pain. What was it? Why was it? This stray little stranger, met upon the London pavements! Yet so swift is thought that, even while he stooped and before his fingers actually touched the leather, he had found what hurt him—and smiled a little at himself. It was the mode of address the boy made use of, contradicting faintly the affectionate expression in the eyes. It was the word ‘sir’ that made him feel like a schoolmaster or a tutor; it made him feel old. It was not the word he needed, and— yes—had longed for, somehow almost expected. And there was such strange trouble in his mind and heart that, as he grasped the bag, he did not catch the boy’s rejoinder to his question. But, of course, it must be the railway station; he was going to the seaside for Easter; his people would be at the ticket-office waiting for him. Bracing himself a little for the effort, he seized the leather handles and lifted the bag from the ground.

‘Oh, thanks awfully, sir!’ repeated the boy. He watched him with a true schoolboy grin of gratitude, as though it were great fun, yet also with a true urchin’s sense that the proper thing had happened, since such jobs, of course, were for grown-up men. And this time, though he used the objectionable word again, the voice betrayed recognition of the fact that he somehow had a right to look to this particular man for help, and that this particular man only did the right and natural thing in giving help.

But the man, swaying sideways, nearly lost his balance. He had calculated automatically the probable energy necessary to lift the weight; he had put this energy forth. He received a shock as though he had been struck, for the bag had no weight at all; it was as light as a feather. It might have been of tissue-paper, a phantom bag. And the shock was mental as well as physical. His mind swayed with his body.

‘By jove!’ cried the boy, strutting merrily beside him, hands in his pockets. ‘Thanks most awfully. This is jolly!’

The objectionable word was omitted, but the man scarcely heard the words at all. For a mist swam before his eyes, the street lamps grew blurred and distant, the drizzle thickened in the air. He still heard the wild, sweet song of the bird, still knew the west had gold upon its lips. It was the rest of the world about him that grew dim. Strange thoughts rose in a cloud. Reality and dream played games, the games of childhood, through his heart. Memories, robed flamingly, trooped past his inner sight, radiant, swift and as of yesterday, closing his eyelids for a moment to the outer world. Rossetti came to him, singing too sweetly a hidden pain in perfect words across those twelve blank years: ‘The Hour that might have been, yet might not be, which man’s and woman’s heart conceived and bore, yet whereof time was barren. . .’ In a second’s flash the entire sonnet, ‘Stillborn Love’, passed on this inner screen ‘with eyes where burning memory lights love home. . .’

Mingled with these—all in an instant of time—came practical thoughts as well. This boy! The ridiculous effort he made to carry this ridiculously light bag! The poignant tenderness, the awakened yearning! Was it a girl dressed up? The happy face, the innocent, confiding smile, the music in the voice, the dear soft blue eyes, and yet, at the same time, something that was not there—some indescribable, incalculable element that was lacking. He felt acutely this curious lack. What was it? Who was this merry youngster? He glanced down cautiously as they moved side by side. He felt shy, hopeful, marvellously tender. His heart yearned inexpressibly; the boy, looking elsewhere, did not notice the examination, did not notice, of course, that his companion caught his breath and walked uncertainly.

But the man was troubled. The face reminded him, as he gazed, of many children, of children he had loved and played with, both boys and girls, his Substitute Children, as he had always called them in his heart. . . Then, suddenly, the boy came closer and took his arm. They were close upon the station now. The sweet human perfume of a small, deeply loved, helpless and dependent little life rose past his face.

He suddenly blurted out: ‘But, I say, this bag of yours—it weighs simply nothing!’

The boy laughed—a ring of true careless joy was in the sound. He looked up.

‘Do you know what’s in it? Shall I tell you?’ He added in a whisper: ‘I will, if you like.’ But the man was suddenly afraid and dared not ask.

‘Brown paper probably,’ he evaded laughingly; ‘or birds’ eggs. You’ve been up to some wicked lark or other.’

The little chap clasped both hands upon the supporting arm. He took a quick, dancing step or two, then stopped dead, and made the man stop with him. He stood on tiptoe to reach the distant ear. His face wore a lovely smile of truth and trust and delight.

‘My future,’ he whispered. And the man turned into ice.

They entered the great station. The last of the daylight was shut out. They reached the ticketoffice. The crowds hurrying people surged about them. The man set down the bag. For a moment or two the boy looked quickly about him to right and left, searching, then turned his big blue eyes upon the other with his radiant smile:

‘She’s in the waiting-room as usual,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and fetch her—though she ought to know you’re here.’ He stood on tiptoe, his hands upon the other’s shoulders, his face thrust close. ‘Kiss me, father. I shan’t be a second.’

‘You little beggar!’ said the man, in a voice he could not control; then, opening his big arms wide, saw only an empty space before him.

He turned and walked slowly back to his flat instead of to the club; and when he got home he read over for the thousandth time the letter—its ink a little faded during the twelve intervening years—in which she had accepted his love two short weeks before death took her.


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 Rh

Springfield, Illinois, October 19, 1860.

Miss Grace Bedell:

My dear little Miss: Your very agreeable letter of the 15th is received. I regret the necessity of saying I have no daughter. I have three sons—one seventeen, one nine, and one seven years of age. They, with their mother, constitute my whole family. As to the whiskers, having never worn any, do you not think people would call it a piece of silly affectation if I were to begin it now?

A. Lincoln.

Rev. Henry Ward Beecher.

My dear Sir: Yours of the 4th and the 21st reached me together only two days ago.

I now thank you for both. Since you wrote the former the whole matter of the negotiation, if it can be so called, has been published, and you doubtless have seen it. When you were with me on the evening of the 1st, I had no thought of going in person to meet the Richmond gentlemen.

A. Lincoln.


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 Gaming,’ by which he gained a prize of fifty guineas offered through the university of Cambridge. The first edition appeared at Cambridge in 1783, and the third in 1812. Hey in 1784 gained a second prize, offered by the same anonymous donor, by his ‘Dissertation on Duelling,’ which also reached a third edition in 1812. His ‘Dissertation on Suicide’ gained him a third prize of fifty guineas. It was first printed in 1785, again in 1812, when the three dissertations were published together. In 1792, at York appeared Hey's ‘Happiness and Rights,’ in reply to the ‘Rights of Man’ by Tom Paine, pronounced to be an ‘excellent and judicious answer.’ He also wrote a tragedy in five acts called ‘The Captive Monarch,’ which was published in 1794, and in 1796 ‘Edington,’ a novel, in two volumes. His last work was ‘Some Principles of Civilisation, with detached thoughts on the Promotion of Christianity in British India,’ Cambridge, 1815. He had at various times contributed papers to the ‘Philosophical Transactions’ and other magazines. He assisted in editing a pamphlet which gives a scientific account of an Egyptian mummy, with anatomical and other details.

Hey died on 7 Dec. 1835, at Hertingfordbury, near Hertford, in the ninety-first year of his age.

HEY, WILLIAM (1736–1819), surgeon, third son of Richard Hey of Pudsey, near Leeds, drysalter, and of his wife Mary Simpson, daughter of a surgeon in Leeds, was born on 23 Aug. 1736. His brothers John and Richard Hey are separately noticed. At the age of four an accident deprived him of the sight of his right eye. The left eye remained perfect till advanced age. While at school at Heath, near Wakefield, Hey acquired a taste for science, and at fourteen was apprenticed to a surgeon at Leeds named Dawson. Between 1757 and 1759 he studied at St. George's Hospital, London, and became so skilful as a surgeon that as soon as he set up in practice at Leeds he treated the most serious cases, performing lithotomy, it is said, three times in his first year. In 1767 he was active in promoting the foundation of the Leeds Infirmary, being the only medical man on the building committee. From 1773 to 1812 he was senior surgeon. About 1769 Hey formed a close friendship with Dr. Priestley, who then lived at Leeds, and Priestley proposed Hey for the fellowship of the Royal Society in 1775, writing to Hey on his election: ‘I wish I could say that one of the members in ten had equal pretensions to it.’ Hey replied to some of Priestley's theological tracts, but their friendship was not impaired by their religious differences. In 1778 Hey was lamed by a blow in mounting his horse. In 1783 he became president of the first Leeds Literary and Philosophical Society, and read numerous papers before it between that year and 1786. In 1800, 1803, 1805, and 1809 he gave courses of anatomical lectures on bodies of executed criminals at the Leeds Infirmary, to which he gave the profits. He resigned his surgeoncy there in 1812. His second son, William Hey (see below), was his successor. Always of deeply religious temperament, he was a strong methodist till 1781, when he joined the church of England. His chief recreation was music. He was twice mayor of Leeds, in 1787–8 and 1801–2, and in that capacity so severely denounced profanity and vice that the populace burnt him in effigy, and threatened him with personal violence. He died 23 March 1819, aged 82. His portrait was placed in the boardroom of the Leeds Infirmary, and an excellent bust of him by Bullock was executed for Mr. Gott of Armley, near Leeds. A statue by Chantrey was erected in the infirmary by public subscription. His portrait, engraved from a painting by Allen, which precedes his ‘Life,’ indicates keen observation and discriminating benevolence. Hey married, in 1761, Alice, daughter of Robert Banks of Craven, by whom he had eleven children.

Hey was an excellent surgical operator. He introduced valuable improvements into the treatment of hernia, of cataract, of dislocations, and other surgical diseases. He first fully described and named the growth called ‘fungus hæmatodes.’ The name of ‘Hey's operation’ is given to a mode (devised by him) of partial amputation of the foot in front of the tarso-metatarsal joint. His proofs of the transmission of venereal disease to the fœtus in utero were convincing.

Hey wrote, besides several papers in ‘Medical Observations and Inquiries:’ 1. ‘Observations on the Blood,’ 1779, controverting Hewson's opinions on inflammation. 2. ‘Practical Observations in Surgery,’ 1803; 2nd edition, 1810; 3rd edition, 1814, both with additions. 3. ‘Facts illustrating the Effects of the Venereal Disease on the Fœtus in utero,’ ‘Medico-Chirurgical Transactions,’ 1816, vol. vii. 4. ‘Tracts and Essays, Moral and Theological, including a Defence of the Doctrines of the Divinity of Christ, and of the Atonement,’ 1822; a collection of tracts several of which were separately published in his lifetime.

, the second son (1772–1844),


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 was a notable surgeon, and wrote a ‘Treatise on Puerperal Fever,’ 1815. His son, also William Hey (1796–1875), was surgeon to the Leeds Infirmary from 1830 to 1851, and was one of the founders of the Leeds School of Medicine, in which he lectured on surgery from 1831 to 1857 (see Brit. Med. Journ. 1875, i. 763).

 HEYDON, CHRISTOPHER (d. 1623), writer on astrology, eldest son of Sir William Heydon, knt., of Baconsthorpe, Norfolk, and descended from Sir Henry Heydon [q. v.], was educated at Cambridge. In 1586 he was induced by the ‘immoderate brag’ of Thomas Farmor to oppose his candidature for the representation of Norfolk in parliament. The election, on account of the contested return, attracted some attention, but finally the House of Commons adjudged the seats to Farmor and Gresham. However, in the parliament of 1588 Heydon represented the county, but he soon afterwards travelled abroad, and in 1596 he was knighted at the sacking of Cadiz by the Earl of Essex. His younger brother John went with Essex to Ireland in 1599, and was knighted there. Both brothers were suspected of complicity in Essex's conspiracy, but received pardons (1601). Sir Christopher died in 1623, and was buried in the church at Baconsthorpe. He was twice married, first to Mirabel, daughter and coheiress of Sir Thomas Rivet, knt., a London merchant; secondly to Anne, daughter and coheiress of John Dodge, esq., widow of Sir John Potts of Mannington, Norfolk. The first wife, by whom he had several sons, including Sir John Heydon [q. v.], was buried in Saxlingham Church; the second, by whom he had four daughters and a son, died in 1642, aged 75, and was buried beside her husband.

In 1601 John Chamber (1564–1604) [q. v.] published ‘A Treatise against Judicial Astrologie,’ London, 4to. To this Heydon replied in ‘A Defence of Judiciall Astrologie. In Answer to a Treatise lately published by M. John Chamber.’ Heydon was answered by Chamber in a treatise never published, and by George Carleton (1559–1628) [q. v.] in ‘Astrologomania, the Madnesse of Astrologers,’ 1624. ‘An Astrological Discourse … in Justification of the validity of Astrology … with an astrological judgement upon the great conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter,’ 1603, by Sir Christopher Heydon, was published in 1650. A pamphlet, called ‘A Recitall of the Caelestiall Apparititions of this present Trygon now in being,’ was written, but never published (Notes and Queries, 3rd ser. vii. 416). Many of Heydon's letters are preserved among the Gawdy MSS.

A curious account of a duel between Sir Christopher's brother John and Sir Robert Mansfield in 1599, in which Sir John lost his hand (still preserved in the Canterbury Museum), is given from original documents at Canterbury, transcribed by Mr. John Brent in the ‘Gentleman's Magazine,’ 1853, pt. i. pp. 481–8. Another account is in Brit. Mus. Add. MS. 27961.

 HEYDON, HENRY (d. 1503), country gentleman, belonged to an old family seated at Heydon in Norfolk. As early as the thirteenth century one of the family resided in Norfolk, and the principal branch of it remained for many years in that county, inheriting the estates at Heydon and Baconsthorpe. Sir Henry was son and heir of John Heydon of Baconsthorpe (d. 1479) (Paston Letters, iii. 196), an eminent lawyer, by Eleanor, daughter of Edmund Winter of Winter Berningham, Norfolk. He married Elizabeth or perhaps Anne (see ib. ii. 304), daughter of Sir Geoffrey Boleyn, knt., and aunt of Anne Boleyn.

Heydon was steward to the household of Cecilia, duchess of York, widow of Richard, duke of York. In 1485 he was knighted. He appears to have been a man of considerable public spirit, and of refined and devout sentiments. He built in the space of six years the manorhouse at Baconsthorpe, a sumptuous quadrangular pile, now ruinous, entirely from the ground, except the tower, which was built by his father. He also built West Wickham Court in Kent, and rebuilt the parish church of West Wickham, close by it. The church of Salthouse and the causeway between Thursford and Walsingham were erected at his expense. In 1443 the moieties of Hyde Manor in Pangbourne, Berkshire, of Nutfield, Surrey, and of Shipton Sollars Manor, Gloucestershire, were settled upon him and Elizabeth his wife as her inheritance. He died in 1503, and was buried beside his father in the Heydon Chapel at Norwich Cathedral. The chapel is now destroyed, and the monuments mentioned by Blomefield have disappeared. In one of the windows of West Wickham Church there is the representation in old stained glass of a


text: The New International Encyclopædia/Abelin, Johann Philipp


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Rh THE LETTER.

is she writing? Watch her now,

How fast her fingers move!

How eagerly her youthful brow

Is bent in thought above!

Her long curls, drooping, shade the light,

She puts them quick aside,

Nor knows, that band of crystals bright,

Her hasty touch untied.

It slips adown her silken dress,

Falls glittering at her feet;

Unmarked it falls, for she no less

Pursues her labour sweet.

The very loveliest hour that shines,

Is in that deep blue sky;

The golden sun of June declines,

It has not caught her eye.

The cheerful lawn, and unclosed gate,

The white road, far away,

In vain for her light footsteps wait,

She comes not forth to-day.

There is an open door of glass

Close by that lady's chair,

From thence, to slopes of mossy grass,

Descends a marble stair.


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Rh Tall plants of bright and spicy bloom

Around the threshold grow;

Their leaves and blossoms shade the room,

From that sun's deepening glow.

Why does she not a moment glance

Between the clustering flowers,

And mark in heaven the radiant dance

Of evening's rosy hours?

O look again! Still fixed her eye,

Unsmiling, earnest, still,

And fast her pen and fingers fly,

Urged by her eager will.

Her soul is in th' absorbing task;

To whom, then, doth she write?

Nay, watch her still more closely, ask

Her own eyes' serious light;

Where do they turn, as now her pen

Hangs o'er th' unfinished line?

Whence fell the tearful gleam that then

Did in their dark spheres shine?

The summer-parlour looks so dark,

When from that sky you turn,

And from th' expanse of that green park,

You scarce may aught discern.

Yet o'er the piles of porcelain rare,

O'er flower-stand, couch, and vase,

Sloped, as if leaning on the air,

One picture meets the gaze.


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 he was evidently advanced in years, so that the date (1380) given by Bale for his ‘floruit’ is too late. That he was ‘philosophiæ magister Cantabrigiensis,’ as Tanner asserts (Bibl. Brit. p. 400), on the authority of Bale and Pits, is a mistake not to be found in either of those writers, but due apparently to inadvertence on Tanner's own part.

Heytesbury's works are all printed under the name of Hentisberus or Tisberius (cf., Survey of the Antiquities of the City of Oxford, ed. A. Clark, vol. i. 1889, pp. 345 f.), and exist in the following editions: 1. ‘Sophismata magistri Guliermi Entisberi,’ printed at Pavia (not Paris, as Tanner states) in 1481, folio. 2. A series of treatises, ‘De sensu composito et diviso,’ ‘de insolubilibus,’ ‘de scire et dubitare,’ ‘de relativis,’ ‘de incipit et desinit,’ ‘de maximo et minimo,’ and ‘de motu locali,’ followed by the ‘Sophismata xxxii’ (as in the edition of 1481) and tracts ‘de veritate et falsitate propositionis’ and ‘de probationibus conclusionum,’ edited by Johannes Maria Mapellus, with commentaries by Gaetanus de Thienis and others (Venice, 1494, fol.) An edition, printed at Venice in 1483, and described by Hain (Repert. Bibliogr. No. 8441) as containing works by Hentisberi, contains, in fact, only the commentaries of Gaetanus on the treatises included in the edition of 1494, with the exception of the ‘De sensu composito et diviso,’ of the last two ‘Sophismata’ (which are given in a different order), and of the two tracts which conclude the 1494 volume. C. von Prantl names also an edition of the ‘De sensu composito et diviso’ printed at Bologna in 1504, 4to, with the commentary of B. Victorius (Geschichte der Logik im Abendlande, iv. 89 n. 347, Leipzig, 1870). 3. ‘Consequentie subtiles Tisberii,’ printed with the ‘Consequentie Strodi’ (signature o, 8) at Venice in 1517 (not, as Tanner, 1511) in folio.

Heytesbury's position as a logician, chiefly with respect to the doctrine of the ‘Obligatoria’ and ‘Insolubilia,’ is discussed by Prantl, 1. c. pp. 89–93.

 HEYTESBURY,, WILLIAM A'COURT (1779–1860), eldest son of Sir William Pierce Ashe A'Court, M.P. for Aylesbury, by his second wife, Letitia, daughter of Henry Wyndham of Salisbury, was born 11 July 1779, and educated at Eton. He entered the diplomatic service, and in 1801 he was appointed secretary of legation at Naples by Lord Hawkesbury (afterwards Lord Liverpool). In 1807 he became secretary to the special mission at Vienna. In 1812 he was made first commissioner for affairs at Malta, and on 5 Jan. 1813 was gazetted envoy extraordinary to the Barbary States. In 1814 he held the same appointment at Naples, and his conduct during the revolution was highly commended by Lord Castlereagh (, Diary, iii. 160). In 1822 he became envoy extraordinary to Spain, and in 1824 ambassador to Portugal. In 1828, during the Russo-Turkish war of that date, he was transferred as ambassador to Russia, where he remained till August 1832. His position was difficult; he had to journey to the seat of hostilities, and was reprimanded for an imprudent conversation with the czar, whom at that time he greatly admired. Lord Ellenborough records (Political Diary, i. 247) that he took the censure well. He succeeded his father as second baronet in 1817, and in the same year he was created a privy councillor, and in 1819 he became G.C.B. In 1828 A'Court was created Baron Heytesbury of Heytesbury, Wiltshire. In 1835 he was nominated by Sir Robert Peel's ministry governor-general of India, but the ministry resigned very soon afterwards, and Heytesbury did not assume office. From 26 July 1844 to 1846 he was viceroy of Ireland in Sir Robert Peel's administration, and was energetic in raising subscriptions in behalf of sufferers from the famine. He was governor of the Isle of Wight till 1857. Heytesbury died at Heytesbury on 31 May 1860. He married, in 1808, Maria Rebecca, second daughter of the Hon. William Henry Bouverie, son of the Earl of Radnor, and left by her a son, W. H. Ashe A'Court, who succeeded to the barony, and a daughter, Cecilia Maria, who married the Hon. Robert Daly.

 HEYTHER, WILLIAM (d. 1627), musician. [See .]

HEYWOOD, BENJAMIN (1793–1865), banker, son of Nathaniel Heywood, banker, was born at Manchester on 12 Dec. 1793, and educated at the Glasgow University. On coming of age he was admitted a partner in his father's bank, eventually becoming the head of the firm. He was greatly interested in the welfare, and especially the education, of the working classes. The Manchester Mechanics' Institution was founded chiefly by him, and he was its president from the commencement in 1825 until 1840. He delivered a series of admirable addresses at that institution. These were collected and published in 1843, two of them having been previously


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Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/98

88 'Tis there she turns; you may not see

Distinct, what form defines

The clouded mass of mystery

Yon broad gold frame confines.

But look again; inured to shade

Your eyes now faintly trace

A stalwart form, a massive head,

A firm, determined face.

Black Spanish locks, a sunburnt cheek,

A brow high, broad, and white,

Where every furrow seems to speak

Of mind and moral might.

Is that her god? I cannot tell;

Her eye a moment met

Th' impending picture, then it fell

Darkened and dimmed and wet.

A moment more, her task is done,

And sealed the letter lies;

And now, towards the setting sun

She turns her tearful eyes.

Those tears flow over, wonder not,

For by the inscription, see

In what a strange and distant spot

Her heart of hearts must be!

Three seas and many a league of land

That letter must pass o'er,

E'er read by him to whose loved hand

'Tis sent from England's shore.


text: Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell/The Letter


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Page:The Salticidae (Spiders) of Panama.djvu/38

36 bulletin: museum of comparative zoology moderately stout; neither carapace nor abdomen deeply constricted (Peckhamia, Uluella) Peckhamia group, (p. 414) 10. Not with combination of characters given above 11 11. Retromargin of fang groove usually with a single simple tooth, but some- times with a fissidentate tooth; abdomen ovoid with not more than a slight constriction; carapace narrow and much rounded dorsally behind PLE or much shorter and broader behind PLE (Chirothecia, Descanso, Donatinus, Sebastira, Zuniga) Zuniga group, (p. 425) 11. Retromargin of fang groove with two or more small teeth (Paradamoetas has only one); abdomen either ovoid with not more than a shallow constriction, or elongated with a deep constriction; carapace either relatively short with little constriction, or long and narrow with deep constriction (Erica, Fluda, Myrmarachne, Paradamoetas, Parafluda, Sarinda, Simonella) Sarinda group, (p. 453)

MARPISSA GROUP Key to the genera of the Marpixsa Group 1. Generally very hairy; with clusters of long curved black bristles beneath and behind PME; anterior row of eyes wider than posterior row which occupy about three fifths of width of the very broad carapace; total eye space occupies much less than one half the length of carapace; leg spines numerous, long Marpissa, (p. 44) 1 . Not with combination of characters given above 2 2. Moderately hairy; with long curved black bristles in ocular area, not in clusters; anterior row of eyes about as wide as posterior row which oc- cupy about five sixths of width of carapace which is not much broadened and has nearly parallel sides; total eye space occupies a Little more than two fifths of length of carapace; leg spines somewhat reduced Menemerus, (p. 48) 2. Not with combination of characters given above 3 3. Not notably hairy, often with little hair on carapace; long black bristles in ocular area not especially prominent; anterior row of eyes as wide as posterior row which occupy about three fourths of width of carapace which is not much broadened and is gently rounded laterally; total eye space occupies from two fifths to about one half the length of carapace; leg spines definitely reduced in size and number, often only cusps Breda, (p. 37) 3. Almost devoid of hair; without long curved black bristles in ocular area; posterior row of eyes slightly wider than anterior row; PLE occupy nearly full width of carapace which is considerably broadened and gently rounded laterally; total eye space occupies about one half the length of carapace; leg spines moderately reduced in number and size. . Parhelia, (p. 48)