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Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Eudocia

Eudocia .— Aelia Eudocia, sometimes wrongly called, was the wife of Theodosius II; died c. 460. Her original name was Athenais, and she was the daughter of Leontius, one of the last pagans who taught rhetoric at Athens. Malalas and the other Byzantine chroniclers make the most of the romantic story of her marriage. Leontius when dying left nearly all his property to his two sons. To Athenais he bequeathed only 100 pieces of gold with the explanation that she would not need more, since "her luck was greater than that of all women". She came to Constantinople to dispute this will, and was there seen by Pulcheria, the elder sister of Theodosius II, who ruled for him till he should be of age. The emperor had already expressed his wish to marry (he was just twenty years old); both he and Pulcheria were greatly delighted with Athenais. Malalas (op. cit., p. 353) enlarges on her beauty. She was instructed in the Christian Faith and baptized by the Patriarch Atticus. On June 7, 421, she married Theodosius. At her baptism she had taken the name Eudocia. Pulcheria took charge of her education in the deportment that was expected of an empress. Theodosius and Eudocia had one daughter, Eudoxia, who married the Western Caesar, Valentinian III (425-455). It seems that after the wedding a certain rivalry began between Pulcheria and Eudocia and that this was the beginning of the empress's troubles. In 438 Eudocia made her first pilgrimage to Jerusalem; on the way she stopped at Antioch and made a speech with a quotation from Homer that greatly delighted the citizens—so much so that they set up a golden statue in her honor. From Jerusalem she brought back St. Peter's chains, of which she sent half to her daughter in the West, who gave it to the pope. The basilica of St. Peter ad Vincula was built to receive this chain (Brev. Rom., August 1, Lect. 4-6).

In 441 Eudocia fell into disgrace through an unjust suspicion of infidelity with Paulinos, the "Master of the Offices". Paulinos was murdered and Eudocia banished. In 442 she went back to Jerusalem and lived there till her death. She became for a time an ardent Monophysite. In 453 St. Leo I of Rome wrote to convert her. She then returned to the Catholic Faith and used her influence in Palestine in favor of the Council of Chalcedon (451). Theodosius II died in 450, Pulcheria in 453; another dynasty under Marcian took the place of the line of Theodosius the Great. Eudocia, forgotten by the world, spent her last years in good works and quiet meditation at the holy places of Jerusalem. She was buried in the church of St. Stephen, built by her outside the northern gate. Byzantine history offers few so strange or picturesque stories as that of the little pagan Athenian who, after having been mistress of the civilized world, ended her days as an ardent mystic, almost a nun, by the tomb of Christ. Eudocia wrote much poetry. As empress she composed a poem in honor of her husband's victory over the Persians; later at Jerusalem she wrote religious verse, namely, a paraphrase of a great part of the Bible (warmly praised by Photius, Bibliotheca, 183), a life of Christ in Homeric hexameters, and three books telling the story of Sts. Cyprian and Justina (a legend about a converted magician that seems to be one version of the Faust story; see Th. Zahn, "Cyprian von Antiochien and die deutsche Faustsage", 1887). The extant fragments of these poems were edited by A. Ludwich, "Eudociae Augustae... carminum graecorum reliquiae" (Leipzig, 1897). See also fragments in P.G., LXXXV, 832 sqq.

Another Byzantine empress of the same name (d. 404), like the above often wrongly called Eudoxia, daughter of the Frank general Bauto, and wife of Emperor Arcadius, was the cause of the first and second exile of St. John Chrysostom. After the fall of the eunuch Eutropius this beautiful but proud and avaricious woman dominated Arcadius. She was the mother of Pulcheria and Theodosius II. The homily against her attributed to St. John Chrysostom (P.G., LIX, 485) is not genuine. Cf. Tillemont, "Hist. des Empereurs" (Paris, 1701), V, 785.

ADRIAN FORTESCUE

title: Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Eudocia


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Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Eudoxias

Eudoxias, a titular see of Galatia Secunda in Asia Minor, suffragan of Pessinus. Eudoxias is mentioned only by Hierocles (Synecdemus, 698, 2) and Parthey (Notit. episc., I, VIII, IX). Two bishops are known, Aquilas in 451 and Menas in 536 (Lequien, Or. christ., I, 495). Another is spoken of in the life of St. Theodore of Sycae, about the end of the sixth century. The original name of the town is unknown, Eudoxias being the name given to it in honor either of the mother or of the daughter of Theodosius II. It was perhaps Gordion, where Alexander the Great cut the famous knot, and stood perhaps at the modern Yürme, in the vilayet of Angora. Others, however, identify Eudoxias with Akkilaion, whose site is unknown, and place Germe at Yürme.

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title: Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Eudoxias


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Page:The Trespasser, Lawrence, 1912.djvu/75

way home lay across country, through deep little lanes where the late foxgloves sat seriously, like sad hounds; over open downlands, rough with gorse and ling, and through pocketed hollows of bracken and trees.

They came to a small Roman Catholic church in the fields. There the carved Christ looked down on the dead whose sleeping forms made mounds under the coverlet. Helena’s heart was swelling with emotion. All the yearning and pathos of Christianity filled her again.

The path skirted the churchyard wall, so that she had on the one hand the sleeping dead, and on the other Siegmund, strong and vigorous, but walking in the old, dejected fashion. She felt a rare tenderness and admiration for him. It was unusual for her to be so humble-minded, but this evening she felt she must minister to him, and be submissive.

She made him stop to look at the graves. Suddenly, as they stood, she kissed him, clasped him fervently, roused him till his passion burned away his heaviness, and he seemed tipped with life, his face glowing as if soon he would burst alight. Then she was satisfied, and could laugh.

As they went through the fir copse, listening to


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Rh

"Thank you very much," said Alice.

"I will, if I can remember it so long," said Alice.

"You needn't go on making remarks like that," Humpty Dumpty said: "they're not sensible, and they put me out."

"I sent a message to the fish:

I told them 'This is what I wish.'

The little fishes of the sea,

They sent an answer back to me.


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68 the birds like a family assembled and chattering at home in the evening, listening to the light swish of the wind, she let Siegmund predominate; he set the swing of their motion; she rested on him like a bird on a swaying bough.

They argued concerning the way. Siegmund, as usual, submitted to her. They went quite wrong. As they retraced their steps, stealthily, through a poultry farm whose fowls were standing in forlorn groups, once more dismayed by evening, Helena’s pride battled with her new subjugation to Siegmund. She walked head down, saying nothing. He also was silent, but his heart was strong in him. Somewhere in the distance a band was playing “The Watch on the Rhine.”

As they passed the beeches and were near home, Helena said, to try him, and to strike a last blow for her pride:

“I wonder what next Monday will bring us.”

“Quick curtain,” he answered joyously. He was looking down and smiling at her with such careless happiness that she loved him. He was wonderful to her. She loved him, was jealous of every particle of him that evaded her. She wanted to sacrifice to him, make herself a burning altar to him, and she wanted to possess him.

The hours that would be purely their own came too slowly for her.

That night she met his passion with love. It was not his passion she wanted, actually. But she desired that he should want her madly, and that he should have all—everything. It was a wonderful night to him. It restored in him the full “will to live.” But she felt it destroyed her. Her soul seemed blasted.


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Talk:A Course in Miracles/Workbook for Students/I am not a body, I am free

I apologize for my ignorance but what do they mean by "Declare your innocence and you are free"In Lak'ech Ann xx


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Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Eugenius

Eugenius I, Archbishop of Toledo, successor in 636 of Justus in that see; d. 647. Like his predecessor he had been a disciple of Helladius in the monastery of Agli. He is famous as an astronomer and astronomical mathematician. As a bishop he was virtuous and intelligent. At this period, under the Gothic kings, the councils of Toledo were national diets convoked by the monarch, attended by lay lords; they regulated, to some extent, not only spiritual but temporal affairs. Of these councils Eugenius presided at the fifth, convoked in 636 by King Chintil to confirm his elevation to the throne; he assisted at the sixth, convoked by the same king to take precautions against the disorders of royal elections. This council, contrary to the principles later put in practice by St. Ildephonsus, banished all Jews who did not embrace the Catholic Faith. Eugenius attended the seventh council of Toledo, which was summoned by King Chindaswith and decreed that the bishops of Toledo should reside one month every year in that city.

EUGENIUS II (THE YOUNGER), Archbishop of Toledo from 647 to November 13, 657, the date of his death. He was the son of a Goth named Evantius, became a cleric in the cathedral of Toledo, and at the death of Eugenius I was elected his successor. The office was so little to his taste that he fled to Saragossa to lead a monastic life, but was forced to return to Toledo by King Chindaswith and take up the government of that see. Though of small stature and feeble health he was a zealous prelate. He undertook the reform of the ecclesiastical chant of the Divine Office and achieved distinction as a writer of prose and poetry. His style is natural and clear, and his exposition easy and agreeable. His poems, though lacking polish and elegance, are full of fire, spirit, and poetic movement. Piety breathes throughout, and the orthodoxy of his faith is notable. His thought is solid, fertile, and gives evidence of a well-trained mind. His feast is kept on November 13.

Eugenius left two books in prose and verse, published (Paris, 1619) by Father Sirmond, S.J., containing his poems on religious and secular subjects, his recension of the poem of Dracontius on "The Six Days of Creation" (Hexaemeron), to which he added a "Seventh Day", and a letter to King Chindaswith explaining the plan of the entire work; he also edited the metrical "Satisfactio" of Dracontius, an account of the writer's misfortunes. Of this work Bardenhewer says (Patrology, tr. St. Louis, 1908, p. 619) that it "underwent a substantial revision at the hands of Eugenius II, Bishop of Toledo, in keeping with the wish of the Visigothic King Chindaswith (642-49); not only were the poetical form and the theology of the poem affected by this treatment, but probably also its political sentiments. It is this revision that was usually printed as Dracontii Elegia (Migne, P.L., LXXVIII, 383-88), until the edition of Arevalo (Rome, 1791, 362-402, and 901-32) made known the original text". He also wrote a treatise on the Trinity probably against the Arian Visigoths. Ferrera mentions a letter of Eugenius to the king and one to Protasius, the Metropolitan of Tarragona, promising if possible to write a mass of St. Hippolytus and some festal sermons, but disclaiming the ability to equal his former productions.

MARK J. MCNEAL

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Rh At seven o’clock in the morning Helena lay in the deliciously cool water, while small waves ran up the beach full and clear and foamless, continuing perfectly in their flicker the rhythm of the night’s passion. Nothing, she felt, had ever been so delightful as this cool water running over her. She lay and looked out on the shining sea. All things, it seemed, were made of sunshine more or less soiled. The cliffs rose out of the shining waves like clouds of strong, fine texture, and rocks along the shore were the dapplings of a bright dawn. The coarseness was fused out of the world, so that sunlight showed in the veins of the morning cliffs and the rocks. Yea, everything ran with sunshine, as we are full of blood, and plants are tissued from green-gold, glistening sap. Substance and solidity were shadows that the morning cast round itself to make itself tangible: as she herself was a shadow, cast by that fragment of sunshine, her soul, over its inefficiency.

She remembered to have seen the bats flying low over a burnished pool at sunset, and the web of their wings had burned in scarlet flickers, as they stretched across the light. Winged momentarily on bits of tissued flame, threaded with blood, the bats had flickered a secret to her.

Now the cliffs were like wings uplifted, and the morning was coming dimly through them. She felt the wings of all the world upraised against the morning in a flashing, multitudinous flight. The world itself was flying. Sunlight poured on the large round world till she fancied it a heavy bee humming on its iridescent atmosphere across a vast air of sunshine.

She lay and rode the fine journey. Sunlight liquid in the water made the waves heavy, golden, and rich


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132 The little fishes' answer was

We cannot do it, Sir, because"

"I'm afraid I don t quite understand," said Alice.

"It gets easier further on," Humpty Dumpty replied.

"I sent to them again to say

It will be better to obey.

The fishes answered with a grin,

Why, what a temper you are in!

I told them once, I told them twice:

They would not listen to advice.

I took a kettle large and new,

Fit for the deed I had to do.

My heart went hop, my heart went thump;

I filled the kettle at the pump.


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70 with a velvety coolness like cowslips. Her feet fluttered in the shadowy underwater. Her breast came out bright as the breast of a white bird.

Where was Siegmund? she wondered. He also was somewhere among the sea and the sunshine, white and playing like a bird, shining like a vivid, restless speck of sunlight. She struck the water, smiling, feeling alone with him. They two were the owners of this morning, as a pair of wild, large birds inhabiting an empty sea.

Siegmund had found a white cave welling with green water, brilliant and full of life as mounting sap. The white rock glimmered through the water, and soon Siegmund shimmered also in the living green of the sea, like pale flowers trembling upward.

“The water,” said Siegmund, “is as full of life as I am,” and he pressed forward his breast against it. He swam very well that morning; he had more wilful life than the sea, so he mastered it laughingly with his arms, feeling a delight in his triumph over the waves. Venturing recklessly in his new pride, he swam round the corner of the rock, through an archway, lofty and spacious, into a passage where the water ran like a flood of green light over the skin-white bottom. Suddenly he emerged in the brilliant daylight of the next tiny scoop of a bay.

There he arrived like a pioneer, for the bay was inaccessible from the land. He waded out of the green, cold water on to sand that was pure as the shoulders of Helena, out of the shadow of the archway into the sunlight, on to the glistening petal of this blossom of a sea-bay.

He did not know till he felt the sunlight how the sea


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Rh had drunk with its cold lips deeply of his warmth. Throwing himself down on the sand that was soft and warm as white fur, he lay glistening wet, panting, swelling with glad pride at having conquered also this small, inaccessible sea-cave, creeping into it like a white bee into a white virgin blossom that had waited, how long, for its bee.

The sand was warm to his breast, and his belly, and his arms. It was like a great body he cleaved to. Almost, he fancied, he felt it heaving under him in its breathing. Then he turned his face to the sun, and laughed. All the while, he hugged the warm body of the sea-bay beneath him. He spread his hands upon the sand; he took it in handfuls, and let it run smooth, warm, delightful, through his fingers.

“Surely,” he said to himself, “it is like Helena;” and he laid his hands again on the warm body of the shore, let them wander, discovering, gathering all the warmth, the softness, the strange wonder of smooth warm pebbles, then shrinking from the deep weight of cold his hand encountered as he burrowed under the surface wrist-deep. In the end he found the cold mystery of the deep sand also thrilling. He pushed in his hands again and deeper, enjoying the almost hurt of the dark, heavy coldness. For the sun and the white flower of the bay were breathing and kissing him dry, were holding him in their warm concave, like a bee in a flower, like himself on the bosom of Helena, and flowing like the warmth of her breath in his hair came the sunshine, breathing near and lovingly: yet, under all, was this deep mass of cold, that the softness and warmth merely floated upon.


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Rh Then some one came to me and said,

'The little fishes are in bed.'


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72 Siegmund lay and clasped the sand, and tossed it in handfuls till over him he was all hot and cloyed. Then he rose and looked at himself and laughed. The water was swaying reproachfully against the steep pebbles below, murmuring like a child that it was not fair—it was not fair he should abandon his playmate. Siegmund laughed, and began to rub himself free of the clogging sand. He found himself strangely dry and smooth. He tossed more dry sand, and more, over himself, busy and intent like a child playing some absorbing game with itself. Soon his body was dry and warm and smooth as a camomile flower. He was, however, greyed and smeared with sand-dust. Siegmund looked at himself with disapproval, though his body was full of delight and his hands glad with the touch of himself. He wanted himself clean. He felt the sand thick in his hair, even in his moustache. He went painfully over the pebbles till he found himself on the smooth rock bottom. Then he soused himself, and shook his head in the water, and washed and splashed and rubbed himself with his hands assiduously. He must feel perfectly clean and free—fresh, as if he had washed away all the years of soilure in this morning’s sea and sun and sand. It was the purification. Siegmund became again a happy priest of the sun. He felt as if all the dirt of misery were soaked out of him, as he might soak clean a soiled garment in the sea, and bleach it white on the sunny shore. So white and sweet and tissue-clean he felt full of lightness and grace.

The garden in front of their house, where Helena was waiting for him, was long and crooked, with a sunken flagstone pavement running up to the door


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Rh by the side of the lawn. On either hand the high fence of the garden was heavy with wild clematis and honeysuckle. Helena sat sideways, with a map spread out on her bench under the bushy little laburnum-tree, tracing the course of their wanderings. It was very still. There was just a murmur of bees going in and out the brilliant little porches of nasturtium flowers. The nasturtium leaf-coins stood cool and grey; in their delicate shade, underneath in the green twilight, a few flowers shone their submerged gold and scarlet. There was a faint scent of mignonette. Helena, like a white butterfly in the shade, her two white arms for antennae stretching firmly to the bench, leaned over her map. She was busy, very busy, out of sheer happiness. She traced word after word, and evoked scene after scene. As she discovered a name, she conjured up the place. As she moved to the next mark she imagined the long path lifting and falling happily.

She was waiting for Siegmund, yet his hand upon the latch startled her. She rose suddenly, in agitation. Siegmund was standing in the sunshine at the gate. They greeted each other across the tall roses.

When Siegmund was holding her hand, he said, softly laughing:

“You have come out of the water very beautiful this morning.”

She laughed. She was not beautiful, but she felt so at that moment. She glanced up at him, full of love and gratefulness.

“And you,” she murmured, in a still tone, as if it were almost sacrilegeously unnecessary to say it.


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134 Humpty Dumpty raised his voice almost to a scream as he repeated this verse, and Alice thought with a shudder, "I wouldn't have been the messenger for anything!"

There was a long pause.

"Is that all?" Alice timidly asked.


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Rh "That's all," said Humpty Dumpty. "Goodbye."

This was rather sudden, Alice thought: but, after such a very strong hint that she ought to be going, she felt that it would hardly be civil to stay. So she got up, and held out her hand. "Good-bye, till we meet again!" she said as cheerfully as she could.

"I shouldn't know you again if we did meet," Humpty Dumpty replied in a discontented tone, giving her one of his fingers to shake; "you're so exactly like other people."

"The face is what one goes by, generally," Alice remarked in a thoughtful tone.

"That's just what I complain of," said Humpty Dumpty. "Your face is the same as everybody hasthe two eyes, so" (marking their places in the air with his thumb) "nose in the middle, mouth under. It's always the same. Now if you had the two eyes on the same side of the nose, for instanceor the mouth at the topthat would be some help."


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74 Siegmund was glad. He rejoiced to be told he was beautiful. After a few moments of listening to the bees and breathing the mignonette, he said:

“I found a little white bay, just like you—a virgin bay. I had to swim there,”

“Oh!” she said, very interested in him, not in the fact.

“It seemed just like you. Many things seem like you,” he said.

She laughed again in her joyous fashion, and the reed-like vibration came into her voice.

“I saw the sun through the cliffs, and the sea, and you,” she said.

He did not understand. He looked at her searchingly. She was white and still and inscrutable. Then she looked up at him; her earnest eyes, that would not flinch, gazed straight into him. He trembled, and things all swept into a blur. After she had taken away her eyes he found himself saying:

“You know, I felt as if I were the first man to discover things: like Adam when he opened the first eyes in the world.”

“I saw the sunshine in you,” repeated Helena quietly, looking at him with her eyes heavy with meaning.

He laughed again, not understanding, but feeling she meant love.

“No, but you have altered everything,” he said.

The note of wonder, of joy, in his voice touched her almost beyond self-control. She caught his hand and pressed it; then quickly kissed it. He became suddenly grave.


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Rh “I feel as if it were right—you and me, Helena—so, even righteous. It is so, isn’t it? And the sea and everything, they all seem with us. Do you think so?”

Looking at her, he found her eyes full of tears. He bent and kissed her, and she pressed his head to her bosom. He was very glad.


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136 "It wouldn't look nice," Alice objected. But Humpty Dumpty only shut his eyes and said "Wait till you've tried."

Alice waited a minute to see if he would speak again, but as he never opened his eyes or took any further notice of her, she said "Good-bye!" once more, and, getting no answer to this, she quietly walked away: but she couldn't help saying to herself as she went, "Of all the unsatisfactory" (she repeated this aloud, as it was a great comfort to have such a long word to say) "of all the unsatisfactory people I ever met" She never finished the sentence, for at this moment a heavy crash shook the forest from end to end.


text: The Trespasser/Chapter 8

title: The Trespasser/Chapter 8


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day waxed hot. A few little silver tortoises of cloud had crawled across the desert of sky, and hidden themselves. The chalk roads were white, quivering with heat. Helena and Siegmund walked eastward bareheaded under the sunshine. They felt like two insects in the niche of a hot hearth as they toiled along the deep road. A few poppies here and there among the wild rye floated scarlet in sunshine like blood-drops on green water. Helena recalled Francis Thompson’s poems, which Siegmund had never read. She repeated what she knew, and laughed, thinking what an ineffectual pale shadow of a person Thompson must have been. She looked at Siegmund, walking in large easiness beside her.

“Artists are supremely unfortunate persons,” she announced.

“Think of Wagner,” said Siegmund, lifting his face to the hot bright heaven, and drinking the heat with his blinded face. All states seemed meagre, save his own. He recalled people who had loved, and he pitied them—dimly, drowsily, without pain.

They came to a place where they might gain access to the shore by a path down a landslip. As they descended through the rockery, yellow with ragwort, they felt themselves dip into the inert, hot air of the


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Rh bay. The living atmosphere of the uplands was left overhead. Among the rocks of the sand, white as if smelted, the heat glowed and quivered. Helena sat down and took off her shoes. She walked on the hot, glistening sand till her feet were delightfully, almost intoxicatingly scorched. Then she ran into the water to cool them. Siegmund and she paddled in the light water, pensively watching the haste of the ripples, like crystal beetles, running over the white outline of their feet; looking out on the sea that rose so near to them, dwarfing them by its far reach.

For a short time they flitted silently in the water’s edge. Then there settled down on them a twilight of sleep, the little hush that closes the doors and draws the blinds of the house after a festival. They wandered out across the beach above high-water mark, where they sat down together on the sand, leaning back against a flat brown stone, Siegmund with the sunshine on his forehead, Helena drooping close to him, in his shadow. Then the hours ride by unnoticed, making no sound as they go. The sea creeps nearer, nearer, like a snake which watches two birds asleep. It may not disturb them, but sinks back, ceasing to look at them with its bright eyes.

Meanwhile the flowers of their passion were softly shed, as poppies fall at noon, and the seed of beauty ripened rapidly within them. Dreams came like a wind through their souls, drifting off with the seed-dust of beautiful experience which they had ripened, to fertilize the souls of others withal. In them the sea and the sky and ships had mingled and bred new


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78 of the torrid heat of their love. And the seed of such blossoms was shaken as they slept, into the hand of God, who held it in his palm preciously; then scattered it again, to produce new splendid blooms of beauty.

A little breeze came down the cliffs. Sleep lightened the lovers of their experience; new buds were urged in their souls as they lay in a shadowed twilight, at the porch of death. The breeze fanned the face of Helena; a coolness wafted on her throat. As the afternoon wore on she revived. Quick to flag, she was easy to revive, like a white pansy flung into water. She shivered lightly and rose.

Strange, it seemed to her, to rise from the brown stone into life again. She felt beautifully refreshed. All around was quick as a garden wet in the early morning of June. She took her hair and loosened it, shook it free from sand, spread, and laughed like a fringed poppy that opens itself to the sun. She let the wind comb through its soft fingers the tangles of her hair. Helena loved the wind. She turned to it, and took its kisses on her face and throat.

Siegmund lay still, looking up at her. The changes in him were deeper, like alteration in his tissue. His new buds came slowly, and were of a fresh type. He lay smiling at her. At last he said:

“You look now as if you belonged to the sea.”

“I do; and some day I shall go back to it,” she replied.

For to her at that moment the sea was a great lover, like Siegmund, but more impersonal, who would receive her when Siegmund could not. She rejoiced


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Rh in the fact. Siegmund looked at her and continued smiling. His happiness was budded firm and secure.

“Come!” said Helena, holding out her hand.

He rose somewhat reluctantly from his large, fruitful inertia.


text: The Trespasser/Chapter 9

title: The Trespasser/Chapter 9


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Rh

improvement had taken place in the character of Augustus Tomlinson, since Paul had last encountered that illustrious man. Then, Augustus had affected the man of pleasure,—the learned lounger about town,—the all-accomplished Pericles of the Papers—now quoting Horace—now flanking a fly from the leader of Lord Dunshunner; in a word, a sort of human half-way house between Lord Dudley and the Marquis of Worcester.

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162 Now, a graver, yet not a less supercilious air had settled upon his features; the pretence of fashion had given way to the pretence of wisdom; and, from the man of pleasure, Augustus Tomlinson had grown to the philosopher. With this elevation alone, too, he was not content: he united the philosopher with the politician; and the ingenious rascal was pleased especially to pique himself upon being,—'A moderate Whig!'—"Paul," he was wont to observe, "believe me, moderate Whiggism is a most excellent creed. It adapts itself to every possible change,—to every conceivable variety of circumstance. It is the only politics for us who are the aristocrats of that free body who rebel against tyrannical laws! for, hang it, I am none of your democrats. Let there be dungeons and turnkeys for the low rascals who whip clothes from the hedge where they hang to dry, or steal down an area in quest of a silver spoon; but Houses of Correction are not made for men who have received an enlightened education,—who abhor your petty thefts as much as a justice of peace can do,—who ought never to be termed dishonest in their dealings, but, if they are found

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Rh out, unlucky in their speculations! A pretty thing, indeed, that there should be distinctions of rank among other members of the community, and none among us! Where's your boasted British constitution? I should like to know—where are your privileges of aristocracy, if I, who am a gentleman born, know Latin, and have lived in the best society, should be thrust into this abominable place with a dirty fellow, who was born in a cellar, and could never earn more at a time than would purchase a sausage?—No, no! none of your levelling principles for me! I am liberal, Paul, and love liberty; but, thank Heaven, I despise your democracies!"

Thus, half in earnest,—half veiling a natural turn to sarcasm, would this moderate Whig run on for the hour together, during those long nights, commencing at half-past four, in which he and Paul bore each other company.

One evening, when Tomlinson was so bitterly disposed to be prolix that Paul felt himself somewhat wearied by his eloquence, our hero, desirous

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164 of a change in the conversation, reminded Augustus of his promise to communicate his history; and the philosophical Whig, nothing loth to speak of himself, cleared his throat, and began.

"Never mind who was my father, nor what was my native place! My first ancestor was Tommy Linn—(his heir became Tom Linn's son:)—you have heard the ballad made in his praise—

"There was a sort of prophecy respecting my ancestor's descendants darkly insinuated in the concluding stanza of this ballad:

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Rh "You see the prophecy; it is applicable both to gentlemen rogues and to moderate Whigs; for both are undermost in the world, and both are perpetually bawling out We are not enough!

"I shall begin my own history by saying, I went to a North country school; where I was noted for my aptness in learning, and my skill at 'prisoner's base:'—Upon my word I purposed no pun! I was intended for the Church: wishing, betimes, to instruct myself in its ceremonies, I persuaded my schoolmaster's maid-servant to assist me towards promoting a christening. My father did not like this premature love for the sacred rites. He took me home; and, wishing to give my clerical ardour a different turn, prepared me for writing sermons, by reading me a dozen a day. I grew tired of this, strange as it may seem to you. 'Father,' said I, one morning, 'it is no use talking, I will not go into the Church—that's positive. Give me your blessing, and a hundred pounds, and I'll go up to London, and get a living instead of a curacy.' My father stormed, but I got the better at last. I talked of becoming a private tutor; swore I had heard nothing was so

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166 easy,—the only things wanted were—pupils; and the only way to get them—was to go to London, and let my learning be known. My poor father!—well, he's gone, and I am glad of it now!—(the speaker's voice faltered)—I got the better, I say, and I came to town, where I had a relation a bookseller. Through his interest, I wrote a book of Travels in Æthiopia, for an earl's son, who wanted to become a lion; and a Treatise on the Greek Particle, dedicated to the prime minister, for a dean, who wanted to become a bishop,—Greek being, next to interest, the best road to the mitre. These two achievements were liberally paid; so I took a lodging in a first floor, and resolved to make a bold stroke for a wife. What do you think I did?—nay, never guess, it would be hopeless. First, I went to the best tailor, and had my clothes sewn on my back; secondly, I got the peerage and its genealogies by heart; thirdly, I marched one night, with the coolest deliberation possible, into the house of a duchess, who was giving an immense rout! The newspapers had inspired me with this idea. I had read of the vast crowds which a lady 'at home'

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Rh sought to win to her house. I had read of staircases impassable, and ladies carried out in a fit; and common sense told me how impossible it was that the fair receiver should be acquainted with the legality of every importation. I therefore resolved to try my chance, and—entered the body of Augustus Tomlinson, as a piece of stolen goods. Faith! the first night I was shy,—I stuck to the staircase, and ogled an old maid of quality, whom I had heard announced as Lady Margaret Sinclair. Doubtless, she had never been ogled before; and she was evidently enraptured with my glances. The next night I read of a ball at the Countess of. My heart beat as if I were going to be whipped; but I plucked up courage, and repaired to her ladyship's. There I again beheld the divine Lady Margaret; and, observing that she turned yellow, by way of a blush, when she saw me, I profited by the port I had drunk as an encouragement to my entré, and lounging up in the most modish way possible, I reminded her ladyship of an introduction with which I said I had once been honoured at the Duke of Dashwell's, and requested her hand for

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168 the next cotillon. Oh Paul! fancy my triumph! the old damsel said with a sigh, 'She remembered me very well,' ha! ha! ha! and I carried her off to the cotillon like another Theseus bearing away a second Ariadne. Not to be prolix on this part of my life, I went night after night to balls and routs, for admission to which half the fine gentlemen in London would have given their ears. And I improved my time so well with Lady Margaret, who was her own mistress, and had five thousand pounds,—a devilish bad portion for some, but not to be laughed at by me,—that I began to think when the happy day should be fixed. Meanwhile, as Lady Margaret introduced me to some of her friends, and my lodgings were in a good situation, I had been honoured with some real invitations. The only two questions I ever was asked were (carelessly), 'Was I the only son?' and on my veritable answer 'Yes!' 'What,' (this was more warmly put,)—'what was my county?'—luckily, my county was a wide one,—Yorkshire; and any of its inhabitants whom the fair interrogators might have questioned about me could only have answered, 'I was not in their part of it.'

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Rh "Well, Paul, I grew so bold by success, that the devil one day put it into my head to go to a great dinner-party at the Duke of Dashwell's.—I went, dined,—nothing happened: I came away, and the next morning I read in the papers—

"'Mysterious affair,—person lately going about,—first houses—most fashionable parties—nobody knows—Duke of Dashwell's yesterday. Duke not like to make disturbance—as—Royalty present!'

"The journal dropped from my hands. At that moment, the girl of the house gave me a note from Lady Margaret,—alluded to the paragraph;—wondered who was 'The Stranger;'—hoped to see me that night at Lord A's, to whose party I said I had been asked;—speak then more fully on those matters I had touched on!'—in short, dear Paul, a tender epistle! All great men are fatalists: I am one now: fate made me a madman: in the very face of this ominous paragraph, I mustered up courage, and went that night to Lord A's. The fact is, my affairs were in confusion—I was greatly in debt: I knew it was necessary to finish my conquest over Lady Margaret as soon as possible;

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170 and Lord A's seemed the best place for the purpose. Nay, I thought delay so dangerous, after the cursed paragraph, that a day might unmask me, and it would be better therefore not to lose an hour in finishing the play of 'The Stranger,' with the farce of the 'Honey Moon.' Behold me then at Lord A's, leading off Lady Margaret to the dance. Behold me whispering the sweetest of things in her ear. Imagine her approving my suit, and gently chiding me for talking of Gretna Green. Conceive all this, my dear fellow, and just at the height of my triumph dilate the eyes of your imagination, and behold the stately form of Lord A, my noble host, marching up to me, while a voice that, though low and quiet as an evening breeze, made my heart sink into my shoes, said, 'I believe, Sir, you have received no invitation from Lady A?'

Not a word could I utter, Paul,—not a word. Had it been the high road instead of a ball-room, I could have talked loudly enough, but I was under a spell. 'Ehem!' I faltered at last:—'E—h—e—m! Some mis—take, I—I.' There

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Rh I stopped. 'Sir,' said the Earl, regarding me with a grave sternness, 'you had better withdraw!'

"'Bless me! what's all this?' cried Lady Margaret, dropping my palsied arm, and gazing on me as if she expected me to talk like a hero.

"'Oh,' said I, 'Eh—e—m, eh—e—m, I will exp—lain to-morrow, ehem, e—h—e—m.' I made to the door; all the eyes in the room seemed turned into burning-glasses, and blistered the very skin on my face. I heard a gentle shriek as I left the apartment; Lady Margaret fainting, I suppose! There ended my courtship and my adventures in "the best society." I fell melancholy at the ill success of my scheme. You must allow, it was a magnificent project. What moral courage! I admire myself when I think of it. Without an introduction, without knowing a soul, to become, all by my own resolution, free of the finest houses in London, dancing with Earls' daughters, and all but carrying off an Earl's daughter myself as my wife. If I had, the friends must have done something for me; and Lady Margaret Tomlinson might perhaps have introduced the youthful

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172 genius of her Augustus to Parliament or the Ministry. Oh what a fall was there! yet faith, ha! ha! ha! I could not help laughing, despite of my chagrin, when I remembered that for three months I had imposed on these 'delicate exclusives,' and been literally invited by many of them, who would not have asked the younger sons of their own cousins; merely because I lived in a good street, avowed myself an only child, and talked of my property in Yorkshire! Ha, ha! how bitter the mercenary dupes must have felt, when the discovery was made! what a pill for the good matrons who had coupled my image with that of some filial Mary or Jane,—ha! ha! ha! the triumph was almost worth the mortification. However, as I said before, I fell melancholy on it, especially as my duns became menacing. So, I went to consult with my cousin the bookseller; he recommended me to compose for the journals, and obtained me an offer. I went to work very patiently for a short time, and contracted some agreeable friendships with gentlemen whom I met at an ordinary in St. James's. Still, my duns, though I paid them by driblets, were

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Rh the plague of my life: I confessed as much to one of my new friends. 'Come to Bath with me,' quoth he, 'for a week, and you shall return as rich as a Jew.' I accepted the offer, and went to Bath in my friend's chariot. He took the name of Lord Dunshunner, an Irish peer who had never been out of Galway, and was not therefore likely to be known at Bath. He took also a house for a year, filled it with wines, books, and a sideboard of plate: as he talked vaguely of setting up (at the next Parliament) for the town, he bought these goods of the townspeople, in order to encourage their trade: I managed secretly to transport them to London and sell them; and as we disposed of them fifty per cent. under cost price, our customers the pawnbrokers were not very inquisitive. We lived a jolly life at Bath for a couple of months, and departed one night, leaving our housekeeper to answer all interrogatories. We had taken the precaution to wear disguises, stuffed ourselves out, and changed the hues of our hair: my noble friend was an adept in these transformations, and though the police did not sleep on the business,—they never stumbled on us. I am

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174 especially glad we were not discovered, for I liked Bath excessively, and I intend to return there some of these days and retire from the world—on an heiress!

"Well, Paul, shortly after this adventure, I made your acquaintance. I continued ostensibly my literary profession, but only as a mask for the labours I did not profess. A circumstance obliged me to leave London rather precipitately. Lord Dunshunner joined me in Edinburgh. Damn it, instead of doing any thing there, we were done! The veriest urchin that ever crept through the High Street is more than a match for the most scientific of Englishmen. With us it is art; with the Scotch it is nature. They pick your pockets, without using their fingers for it; and they prevent reprisal, by having nothing for you to pick.

"We left Edinburgh with very long faces, and at Carlisle we found it necessary to separate. For my part, I went as a valet to a Nobleman who had just lost his last servant at Carlisle by a fever: my friend gave me the best of characters! My new master was a very clever man. He astonished people at dinner by

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Rh the impromptus he prepared at breakfast;—in a word, he was a wit. He soon saw, for he was learned himself, that I had received a classical education, and he employed me in the confidential capacity of finding quotations for him. I classed these alphabetically, and under three heads: 'Parliamentary, Literary, Dining out.' These were again subdivided, into "Fine,"—'Learned' and 'Jocular;' so that my master knew at once where to refer for genius, wisdom, and wit. He was delighted with my management of his intellects. In compliment to him, I paid more attention to politics than I had done before, for he was a "great Whig," and uncommonly liberal in every thing,—but money! Hence, Paul, the origin of my political principles; and, I thank Heaven, there is not now a rogue in England who is a better, that is to say, more of a moderate, Whig than your humble servant!—I continued with him nearly a year. He discharged me for a fault worthy of my genius,—other servants may lose the watch or the coat of their master; I went at nobler game, and lost him—his private character!

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176 "How do you mean?"

"Why, I was enamoured of a lady who would not have looked at me as Mr. Tomlinson; so I took my master's clothes, and occasionally his carriage, and made love to my nymph, as Lord . Her vanity made her indiscreet. The Tory papers got hold of it; and my master, in a change of Ministers, was declared by George the Third to be 'too gay for a Chancellor of the Exchequer.' An old gentleman who had had fifteen children by a wife like a Gorgon was chosen instead of my master; and although the new Minister was a fool in his public capacity, the moral public were perfectly content with him, because of his private virtues!

"My master was furious, made the strictest inquiry, found me out, and turned me out too!

"A Whig not in place has an excuse for disliking the Constitution. My distress almost made me a republican; but, true to my creed, I must confess that I would only have levelled upwards. I especially disaffected the inequality of riches: I looked moodily on every carriage that passed: I even frowned like a second Catiline, at the steam

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Rh of a gentleman's kitchen! My last situation had not been lucrative; I had neglected my perquisites, in my ardour for politics. My master too refused to give me a character:—who would take me without one?

"I was asking myself this melancholy question one morning, when I suddenly encountered one of the fine friends I had picked up at my old haunt, the ordinary, in St. James's. His name was Pepper.

"Pepper!" cried Paul.

Without heeding the exclamation, Tomlinson continued.

"We went to a tavern and drank a bottle together. Wine made me communicative; it also opened my comrade's heart. He asked me to take a ride with him that night towards Hounslow: I did so, and found a purse."

"How fortunate! Where?"

"In a gentleman's pocket.—I was so pleased with my luck, that I went the same road twice a-week, in order to see if I could pick up any more purses. Fate favoured me, and I lived for a long time the life of the blest. Oh, Paul, you know

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178 not—you know not what a glorious life is that of a highwayman; but you shall taste it one of these days. You shall, on my honour.

"I now lived with a club of honest fellows: we called ourselves 'The Exclusives,' for we were mighty reserved in our associates, and only those who did business on a grand scale were admitted into our set. For my part, with all my love for my profession, I liked ingenuity still better than force, and preferred what the vulgar called swindling, even to the high-road. On an expedition of this sort, I rode once into a country town, and saw a crowd assembled in one corner,—I joined it, and,—guess my feelings! beheld my poor friend, Viscount Dunshunner, just about to be hanged! I rode off as fast as I could,—I thought I saw Jack Ketch at my heels. My horse threw me at a hedge, and I broke my collar-bone. In the confinement that ensued, gloomy ideas floated before me. I did not like to be hanged; so I reasoned against my errors, and repented. I recovered slowly, returned to town, and repaired to my cousin the bookseller. To say truth, I had played him a little trick; collected some debts of

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Rh his by a mistake—very natural in the confusion incident on my distresses. However, he was extremely unkind about it; and the mistake, natural as it was, had cost me his acquaintance.

"I went now to him with the penitential aspect of the prodigal son, and, 'faith, he would not have made a bad representation of the fatted calf about to be killed on my return; so corpulent looked he, and so dejected! 'Graceless reprobate!' he began; 'your poor father is dead!' I was exceedingly shocked; but—never fear, Paul, I am not about to be pathetic. My father had divided his fortune among all his children; my share was 500l. The possession of this sum made my penitence seem much more sincere in the eyes of my good cousin; and after a very pathetic scene, he took me once more into favour. I now consulted with him as to the best method of laying out my capital and recovering my character. We could not devise any scheme at the first conference; but the second time I saw him, my cousin said with a cheerful countenance, 'Cheer up, Augustus, I have got thee a situation. Mr. Asgrave, the banker, will take thee as a clerk. He is a most

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180 man; and having a vast deal of learning, he will respect thee for thy acquirements.' The same day I was introduced to Mr. Asgrave, who was a little man with a fine bald benevolent head; and after a long conversation which he was pleased to hold with me, I became one of his quill-drivers. I don't know how it was, but by little and little I rose in my master's good graces: I propitiated him, I fancy, by disposing of my 500l. according to his advice; he laid it out for me, on what he said was famous security, on a landed estate. Mr. Asgrave was of social habits,—he had a capital house and excellent wines. As he was not very particular in his company, nor ambitious of visiting the great, he often suffered me to make one of his table, and was pleased to hold long arguments with me about the ancients. I soon found out that my master was a great moral philosopher; and being myself in weak health, sated of the ordinary pursuits of the world, in which my experience had forestalled my years, and naturally of a contemplative temperament, I turned my attention to the moral studies which so fascinated my employer. I read through nine shelves full of metaphysicians,

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Rh and knew exactly the points in which those illustrious thinkers quarrelled with each other to the great advance of the science. My master and I used to hold many a long discussion about the nature of good and evil; and as by help of his benevolent forehead and a clear dogged voice, he always seemed to our audience to be the wiser and better man of the two; he was very well pleased with our disputes. This gentleman had an only daughter, an awful shrew with a face like a hatchet: but philosophers overcome personal defects: and thinking only of the good her wealth might enable me to do to my fellow-creatures, I secretly made love to her. You will say, that was playing my master but a scurvy trick in return for his kindness—not at all, my master himself had convinced me, that there was no such virtue as gratitude. It was an error of vulgar moralists. I yielded to his arguments, and at length privately espoused his daughter. The day after this took place, he summoned me to his study. 'So, Augustus,' said he very mildly, 'you have married my daughter: nay, never look confused; I saw a long time ago

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182 that you were resolved to do so, and I was very glad of it.'

"I attempted to falter out something like thanks. 'Never interrupt me!' said he. 'I had two reasons for being glad:—1st. Because my daughter was the plague of my life, and I wanted some one to take her off my hands;—2ndly, Because I required your assistance on a particular point, and I could not venture to ask it of any one but my son-in-law. In fine, I wish to take you into partnership!!!'

"'Partnership!' cried I, falling on my knees. 'Noble—generous man!'

"'Stay a bit,' continued my father-in-law. 'What funds do you think requisite for the carrying on a bank? You look puzzled! Not a shilling! You will put in just as much as I do. You will put in rather more; for you once put in five hundred pounds, which has been spent long ago. I don't put in a shilling of my own. I live on my clients, and I very willingly offer you half of them!'

"Imagine, dear Paul, my astonishment, my dismay! I saw myself married to a hideous

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Rh shrew—son-in-law to a pennyless scoundrel, and cheated out of my whole fortune! Compare this view of the question with that which had blazed on me when I contemplated being son-in-law to the rich Mr. Asgrave. I stormed at first. Mr. Asgrave took up 'Bacon on the Advancement of Learning,' and made no reply till I was cooled by explosion. You will perceive, that when passion subsided, I necessarily saw that nothing was left for me but adopting my father-in-law's proposal. Thus, by the fatality which attended me, at the very time I meant to reform I was forced into scoundrelism, and I was driven into defrauding a vast number of persons by the accident of being son-in-law to a great moralist. As Mr. Asgrave was an indolent man, who passed his mornings in speculations on virtue, I was made the active partner. I spent the day at the counting-house; and when I came home for recreation, my wife scratched my eyes out."

"But were you never recognized as 'the stranger,' or 'the adventurer,' in your new capacity?"

"No; for of course I assumed, in all my changes, both Aliases and Disguises. And, to tell you the

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184 truth, my marriage so altered me, that what with a snuff-coloured coat, and a brown scratch wig, with a pen in my right ear, I looked the very picture of staid respectability. My face grew an inch longer every day. Nothing is so respectable as a long face! and a subdued expression of countenance is the surest sign of commercial prosperity. Well, we went on splendidly enough for about a year. Meanwhile I was wonderfully improved in philosophy. You have no idea how a scolding wife sublimes and rarifies one's intellect. Thunder clears the air, you know! At length, unhappily for my fame, (for I contemplated a magnificent moral history of man, which, had she lived a year longer, I should have completed) my wife died in child-bed. My father-in-law and I were talking over the event, and finding fault with civilization, by the enervating habits of which, women die of their children, instead of bringing them forth without being even conscious of the circumstance;—when a bit of paper, sealed awry, was given to my partner: he looked over it—finished the discussion, and then told me our Bank had stopped payment. 'Now, Augustus,' said he,

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Rh his pipe with the bit of paper, 'you see the good of having nothing to lose!'

"We did not pay quite sixpence in the pound; but my partner was thought so unfortunate that the British public raised a subscription for him, and he retired on an annuity, greatly respected and very much compassionated. As I had not been so well known as a moralist, and had not the prepossessing advantage of a bald benevolent head, nothing was done for me, and I was turned once more on the wide world, to moralize on the vicissitudes of fortune. My cousin the bookseller was no more, and his son cut me. I took a garret in Warwick Court, and with a few books, my only consolation, I endeavoured to nerve my mind to the future. It was at this time, Paul, that my studies really availed me. I meditated much, and I became a true philosopher, viz. a practical one. My actions were henceforth regulated by principle; and at some time or other I will convince you, that the road of true morals never avoids the pockets of your neighbour. So soon as my mind had made the grand discovery which Mr. Asgrave had made before me, that one should live

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186 according to a system,—for if you do wrong, it is then your system that errs, not you,—I took to the road, without any of those stings of conscience which had hitherto annoyed me in such adventures. I formed one of a capital knot of 'Free Agents,' whom I will introduce to you some day or other, and I soon rose to distinction among them. But about six weeks ago, not less than formerly preferring by-ways to highways, I attempted to possess myself of a carriage, and sell it at discount. I was acquitted on the felony; but sent hither by Justice Burnflat on the misdemeanor. Thus far, my young friend, hath as yet proceeded the life of Augustus Tomlinson."

The history of this gentleman made a deep impression on Paul. The impression was strengthened by the conversations subsequently holden with Augustus. That worthy was a dangerous and subtle persuader. He had really read a good deal of history, and something of morals; and he had an ingenious way of defending his rascally practices by syllogisms from the latter, and examples from the former. These theories he clenched, as it were, by a reference to the existing politics

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Rh of the day. Cheaters of the public, on false pretences, he was pleased to term "moderate Whigs;" bullying demanders of your purse were "high Tories;" and thieving in gangs was "the effect of the spirit of party." There was this difference between Augustus Tomlinson and Long Ned: Ned was the acting knave; Augustus, the reasoning one; and we may see therefore, by a little reflection, that Tomlinson was a far more perilous companion than Pepper, for showy theories are always more seductive to the young and clever than suasive examples, and the vanity of the youthful makes them better pleased by being convinced of a thing, than by being enticed to it.

A day or two after the narrative of Mr. Tomlinson, Paul was again visited by Mrs. Lobkins; for the regulations against frequent visitors were not then so strictly enforced as we understand them to be now; and the good Dame came to deplore the ill success of her interview with Justice Burnflat.

We spare the tender-hearted reader a detail of the affecting interview that ensued. Indeed, it was but a repetition of the one we have before

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188. We shall only say, as a proof of Paul's tenderness of heart, that when he took leave of the good matron, and bade "God bless her," his voice faltered, and the tears stood in his eyes,—just as they were wont to do in the eyes of George the Third, when that excellent monarch was pleased graciously to encore "God save the King!"

"I'll be hanged," soliloquized our hero, as he slowly bent his course towards the subtle Augustus,—"I'll be hanged (humph! the denunciation is prophetic,) if I don't feel as grateful to the old lady for her care of me as if she had never ill-used me. As for my parents, I believe I have little to be grateful for or proud of in that quarter. My poor mother, by all accounts, seems scarcely to have had even the brute virtue of maternal tenderness; and in all human likelihood I shall never know whether I had one father or fifty. But what matters it? I rather like the better to be independent; and, after all, what do nine-tenths of us ever get from our parents but an ugly name, and advice which, if we follow, we are wretched,—and if we neglect, we are disinherited?"

Comforting himself with these thoughts, which

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Rh perhaps took their philosophical complexion from the conversations he had lately held with Augustus, and which broke off into the muttered air of

Paul repaired to his customary avocations.

In the third week of our hero's captivity, Tomlinson communicated to him a plan of escape that had occurred to his sagacious brain. In the yard appropriated to the amusements of the gentlemen "misdemeaning," there was a water-pipe that, skirting the wall, passed over a door, through which, every morning, the pious captives passed, in their way to the chapel. By this, Tomlinson proposed to escape; for to the pipe which reached from the door to the wall, in a slanting and easy direction, there was a sort of skirting-board; and a dexterous and nimble man might readily, by the help of this board, convey himself along the pipe, until the progress of that useful conductor (which was happily very brief) was stopped by the summit of the wall, where it found a sequel in another pipe, that descended to the ground on the opposite side of the wall. Now, on this opposite side was the garden of the prison; in this garden was a watchman; and

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190 this watchman was the hobgoblin of Tomlinson's scheme; "for, suppose us safe in the garden," said he, "what shall we do with this confounded fellow?"

"But that is not all," added Paul, "for even were there no watchman, there is a terrible wall, which I noted especially last week, when we were set to work in the garden, and which has no pipe, save a perpendicular one, that a man must have the legs of a fly to be able to climb!"

"Nonsense!" returned Tomlinson: "I will show you how to climb the stubbornest wall in Christendom, if one has but the coast clear: it is the watchman—the watchman, we must"

"What?" asked Paul, observing his comrade did not conclude the sentence.

It was some time before the sage Augustus replied; he then said, in a musing tone—

"I have been thinking, Paul, whether it would be consistent with virtue, and that strict code of morals by which all my actions are regulated, to—slay the watchman!"

"Good heavens!" cried Paul, horror-stricken.

"And I have decided," continued Augustus

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Rh solemnly, without regard to the exclamation, "that the action would be perfectly justifiable!"

"Villain!" exclaimed Paul, recoiling to the other end of the stone box—(for it was night)—in which they were cooped.

"But," pursued Augustus, who seemed soliloquizing, and whose voice, sounding calm and thoughtful, like Young's in the famous monologue in Hamlet, denoted that he heeded not the uncourteous interruption—"but opinion does not always influence conduct; and although it may be virtuous to murder the watchman, I have not the heart to do it. I trust, in my future history I shall not, by discerning moralists, be too severely censured for a weakness, for which my physical temperament is alone to blame!"

Despite the turn of the soliloquy, it was a long time before Paul could be reconciled to farther conversation with Augustus; and it was only from the belief, that the moralist had leaned to the jesting vein, that he at length resumed the consultation.

The conspirators did not, however, bring their scheme, that night, to any ultimate decision. The next day, Augustus, Paul, and some others of

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192 the company, were set to work in the garden; and Paul then observed that his friend, wheeling a barrow close by the spot where the watchman stood, overturned its contents. The watchman was good-natured enough to assist him in refilling the barrow; and Tomlinson profited so well by the occasion, that, that night, he informed Paul, that they would have nothing to dread from the watchman's vigilance. "He has promised," said Augustus, "for certain con-si-de-ra-ti-ons, to allow me to knock him down: he has also promised to be so much hurt, as not to be able to move, until we are over the wall. Our main difficulty now, then, is, the first step,—namely, to climb the pipe unperceived."

"As to that," said Paul, who developed, through the whole of the scheme, organs of sagacity, boldness, and invention, which charmed his friend, and certainly promised well for his future career;—"as to that, I think we may manage the first ascent with less danger than you imagine: the mornings, of late, have been very foggy; they are almost dark at the hour we go to chapel. Let you and I close the file: the pipe passes just

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Rh above the door; our hands, as we have tried, can reach it; and a spring of no great agility will enable us to raise ourselves up to a footing on the pipe and the skirting-board. The climbing, then, is easy; and, what with the dense fog, and our own quickness, I think we shall have little difficulty in gaining the garden. The only precautions we need use are, to wait for a very dark morning, and to be sure that we are the last of the file, so that no one behind may give the alarm"

"Or attempt to follow our example, and spoil the pie by a superfluous plum!" added Augustus. "You counsel admirably; and one of these days, if you are not hung in the mean while, will, I venture to argue, be a great logician."

The next morning was clear and frosty; but the day after was, to use Tomlinson's simile, "as dark as if all the negroes of Africa had been stewed down into air." "You might have cut the fog with a knife," as the proverb says. Paul and Augustus could not even see how significantly each looked at the other.

It was a remarkable trait of the daring temperament of the former, that, young as he was, it

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194 was fixed that he should lead the attempt. At the hour, then, for chapel—the prisoners passed as usual through the door. When it came to Paul's turn, he drew himself by his hands to the pipe, and then creeping along its sinuous course, gained the wall before he had even fetched his breath. Rather more clumsily, Augustus followed his friend's example; once his foot slipped, and he was all but over. He extended his hands involuntarily, and caught Paul by the leg. Happily our hero had then gained the wall to which he was clinging, and for once in a way, one rogue raised himself without throwing over another. Behold Tomlinson and Paul now seated for an instant on the wall to recover breath! the latter then,—the descent to the ground was not very great,—letting his body down by his hands, dropped into the garden.

"Hurt?" asked the prudent Augustus in a hoarse whisper before he descended from his "bad eminence," being even willing

without taking every previous precaution in his power.

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Rh "No!" was the answer in the same voice, and Augustus dropped.

So soon as this latter worthy had recovered the shock of his fall, he lost not a moment in running to the other end of the garden: Paul followed. By the way Tomlinson stopped at a heap of rubbish, and picked up an immense stone; when they came to the part of the wall they had agreed to scale, they found the watchman, about whom they needed not, by the by, to have concerned themselves; for had it not been arranged that he was to have met them, the deep fog would have effectually prevented him from seeing them: this faithful guardian Augustus knocked down, not with the stone, but with ten guineas; he then drew forth from his dress a thickish cord which he had procured some days before of the turnkey, and fastening the stone firmly to one end, threw that end over the wall. Now the wall had (as walls of great strength mostly have) an overhanging sort of battlement on either side, and the stone, when flung over and drawn to the tether of the cord to which it was attached, necessarily hitched against this projection; and thus the cord

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196 was, as it were, fastened to the wall, and Tomlinson was enabled by it to draw himself up to the top of the barrier. He performed this feat with gymnastic address, like one who had often practised it; albeit, the discreet adventurer had not mentioned in his narrative to Paul any previous occasion for the practice. As soon as he had gained the top of the wall, he threw down the cord to his companion, and, in consideration of Paul's inexperience in that manner of climbing, gave the fastening of the rope an additional security by holding it himself. With slowness and labour Paul hoisted himself up; and then, by transferring the stone to the other side of the wall, where it made of course a similar hitch, our two adventurers were enabled successively to slide down, and consummate their escape from the House of Correction.

"Follow me now!" said Augustus, as he took to his heels; and Paul pursued him through a labyrinth of alleys and lanes, through which he shot and dodged with a variable and shifting celerity that, had not Paul kept close upon him, would very soon (combined with the fog) have snatched him from the eyes of his young ally.

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Rh Happily the immaturity of the morning, the obscurity of the streets passed through, and, above all, the extreme darkness of the atmosphere, prevented that detection and arrest which their prisoners' garb would otherwise have ensured them. At length, they found themselves in the fields; and, skulking along hedges, and diligently avoiding the high road, they continued to fly onward, until they had advanced several miles into "the bowels of the land." At that time "the bowels" of Augustus Tomlinson began to remind him of their demands, and he accordingly suggested the desirability of their seizing the first peasant they encountered, and causing him to exchange clothes with one of the fugitives, who would thus be enabled to enter a public-house and provide for their mutual necessities. Paul agreed to this proposition, and accordingly they watched their opportunity and caught a ploughman. Augustus stripped him of his frock, hat, and worsted stockings; and Paul, hardened by necessity and companionship, helped to tie the poor ploughman to a tree. They then continued their progress for about an hour, and, as the shades of evening fell around them,

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 198 they discovered a public-house. Augustus entered, and returned in a few minutes laden with bread and cheese, and a bottle of beer. Prison fare cures a man of daintiness, and the two fugitives dined on these unsavoury viands with considerable complacency. They then resumed their journey, and at length, wearied with exertion, they arrived at a lonely hay-stack, where they resolved to repose for an hour or two.

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156 important industries, was summoned to Rome by Pope Paul II, and forbidden to continue his researches.

Both in Protestant and Catholic countries instruction in chemistry and physics was discouraged by Church authorities, and in England the theologians strenuously opposed the Royal Society and the Association for the Advancement of Science.

Francis Bacon and Boyle were denounced by the clergy, and Lavoisier was sent to the scaffold by the Parisian mob. Priestley had his home, his library, instruments, and papers containing the results of long years of scientific research burned by a Birmingham mob that had been instigated by Anglican clergymen. He was driven into exile, and the mob would have murdered him if they could have laid their hands upon him.

Yet, in spite of the opposition of the clergy, an opposition of such force that one may well wonder how these tender embryonic sciences could have withstood the terrific ecclesiastical onslaughts, the truths of chemistry and physics continued to diffuse themselves among the intelligent observers. The value to humanity of these two sciences is now established as inestimable.


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 112 300 CG 010 073 TITLE INSTiT]TION REPORT NO POB AT NOTE AVAILABLE EDRS PRICE DESCRIPTORS Diehl, Digby Drug Themes in Abuse Research Documentation Nat.onal Inst DHEW-A Now 7# 50p. DM-75-1 Superintendent Office, Fiction. Natlone/ Institute on Drug Issues Associates, Los Angeles, Calif.: on Drug Abuse (DHEW/PH$), Rockville, of D(>cuments, U.S. Washi:g%on, D.C. 25 Government Printing MF-$0.76 HC-$!.95 Plus Postage � Content Ana12sis; ,Drug Abuse ,Ficticn; � Literature Reviews Social Attitudes Literature; ABSIRACT This essay is a surwe of selected literar works of fiction with drug-related thematic content. The themes represented in the surve reflect popular American attitudes toar4 4rugs from pre-World ar II through the 1970's. he roots of these themes, beginning with th centur French cultural attitudes are explained. The subject has been treated broadly there is no attempt to analyze literarff characters who used drugs (for example, Sherlock Holmes), nor to consider the effect of drugs on the creativity cf anff authors who may have used drugs. An annotated bibliography of novels is included. (Author) Documents acquired by ERIC include many informal unpublished materials not aailable from other sources. EICmakes everff effort to otain %he best copff available. Nevertheless, items of marginal zeproducibilitff are often encountered and this afects the ualitff of the microfiche and hardcopy reproductions ERIC makes available via %he ERIC Document Reproduction Service (EDRS). .DRS is not responsible for the qualit of the original document. Reproductions supplied by .DBS are the best that can be made from the original.


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 112 299 010 072 INSTITUTION REPORT NO PUB DATE NOTE Silverberg, Robert Drug Themes in Science Fiction. National Institute on Drug Abuse Research Issues 9. Documentation Associates, Los Angeles, Calif.; National Inst. on Drug Abuse (DE/PHS), Rockville, DHEW-ADH-75-190 Nov 74 649. EDRS PRICE DESCRIPTORS MP-$0.76 MC-$3.32 Plus Postage ABSTRACT This booklet is part of a series most of which fcus on empirical research findings and major theoretical approaches in the area of drug usage. In this volume, the author has compiled a group of English-language short stories and novels which deal with the use of mind-altering drugs, all written since 1900 and falling within the literary category of science fiction. (Not included are stories dealing with drugs whose effects are primarily on the body rather than the mind--immortality serums, for example.) The majority of the stories included in the study date from the post-1965 period, when the wide use of drugs first pervaded the national life. Included is an overview of drug themes in science fiction and an annotated bibliography of 75 novels. {Author/HMV)
 * Conent Anal'sis; *Drug Abuse; *Literature Reviews;
 * Science Piction
 * Documents acquired by ERIC include many informal unpublished *
 * materials not available from other sources. EFIC makes every effort *
 * to obtain the best copy available. Nevertheless, items of marginal *
 * reproducibility are often encountered and this affects the guality *
 * of the microfiche and hardcopy reproductions EBIC makes available *
 * via the ERIC Document Reproduction Service (EDRS). EDS is not *
 * responsible for the guality of the original document. Reproductions *
 * supplied by EDRS are the best that can be made from the original. *


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The Idler

 * The Idler, a work by Samuel Johnson
 * The Idler, a work by Charles Haddon Chambers
 * The Idler, a British periodical published from 1892 to 1911

title: The Idler


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User:Andrew Gray

I'm Andrew Gray. From May 2012 onwards, I will be the Wikipedian in Residence at the British Library in London - see the project page for details. Please do get in touch if there's anything I can help you with.

My professional background is as a librarian; I have an MSc in information and library sciences, and have worked as a professional librarian in southern England since 2006. I joined the English Wikipedia in October 2004, while I was a postgraduate, became an administrator a year later, in late 2005, and have worked on handling OTRS queries (email correspondence for WMF) since early 2006.

I contributed a few pieces to Wikisource under an old account in 2006-7.

British Library material
The British Library has recently been looking at releasing a collection of scanned/OCRed texts produced as part of an external partnership some years ago. I've been experimenting with putting some of these on Wikisource:

A Journey in Khorassan

 * A Journey in Khorassan and Central Asia: March and April, 1890 by Sir Robert John Kennedy; published Hatchards, 1890.

Proofreading here: ready for validation.

Gujarat and the Gujaratis

 * Gujarát and the Gujarátis: pictures of men and manners taken from life by Behrámji M. Malabári; published W.H. Allen, 1882.

Proofreading here: in progress.

Advice to Officers in India

 * Advice to Officers in India by John McCosh; published Wm.H. Allen, 1856.

Proofreading here: in progress.

title: User:Andrew Gray


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