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 Interludes in verse and prose. 
 
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INTERLUDES 
 
 IN 
 
 VERSE AND PROSE 
 
INTERLUDES 
 
 IN 
 
 VERSE AND PROSE 
 
 By the right HON. 
 SIR GEORGE OTTO TREVELYAN, Bart. 
 
 HONORARY FELLOW, ANB FORMERLY SCHOLAR, OF 
 TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE BELL AND SONS 
 
 1905 
 
 r3 
 
CHTSWICK PRESS : CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THE pieces in this volume were written from 
 forty to forty-five years ago ; but they are still 
 in fairly brisk demand. The author has thought it 
 advisable, while time is left to him, to revise and re- 
 arrange them ; and they here appear in the shape in 
 which he would desire them to be read. 
 
 With the exception of the prose passages from the 
 " Competition Wallah," they are little altered from 
 their earliest form ; for their merit is youth, and that 
 quality would only be spoiled by fastidious re-hand- 
 ling. Some few personalities have been expunged ; 
 although many more remain. After this length of 
 time personal allusions cannot hurt, whether or not 
 they retain any power to amuse. One of these produc- 
 tions is pretty deeply coloured by politics ; but those 
 politics are now ancient history. It is curious to 
 remember that the "Ladies in Parliament," after 
 having been accepted for a first-class magazine, and 
 actually set up in type, was on second thoughts 
 reluctantly declined by the editor on the express 
 ground that it contained passages which were too 
 respectful to Mr. John Bright. 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 Much of the book was collected into a small 
 volume by Messrs. Bell, in the year 1868, and has 
 since formed part of the Bohn Series. The extracts, 
 in verse and prose, from the " Letters of a Competi- 
 tion Wallah," were written, in their original shape, 
 in the year 1863. They appear here with the kind 
 acquiescence of Messrs. Macmillan. 
 
 Wallington, 
 Cambo, 
 
 Northumberland. 
 August, 1905. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface v 
 
 Horace at the University of Athens .... i 
 The Cambridge Dionysia: a Classic Dream . . 37 
 The Modern Ecclesiazusae, or Ladies in Par- 
 liament 59 
 
 Anglo-Indian Lyrics 95 
 
 Lib. Ill, Carm. 7 (Horace) 97 
 
 Lib. IV, Carm. 8 ,, 99 
 
 Lib. I, Carm. 2 ,, 100 
 
 Ode to Calcutta 102 
 
 Letters from Patna 105 
 
 An Up Country Station 109 
 
 The Siege of Arrah 129 
 
 The Indian Civil Service 159 
 
 The Dawk Bungalow: or, "Is His Appointment 
 
 Pucka?" 187 
 
 An Ancient Greek War 241 
 
HORACE AT THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ATHENS 
 
 1861 
 
THIS little extravaganza is at the disadvantage 
 of having been composed for acting, and al- 
 tered for printing. It lays claim, however, to perfect 
 historical accuracy, as it faithfully records the known 
 occurrences in the life of Horace; — his residence at 
 Athens as a student, his enlistment in the Republican 
 army, his behaviour at Philippi, his pardon at the 
 instance of Maecenas, and his appointment to a post 
 in the Roman Treasury. It was written in the sum- 
 mer of 1861 ; as may be seen from the allusions to 
 the battle of Manasses Junction, and to the Uni- 
 versity Volunteer Corps, which then had all the 
 popularity of a recent institution. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONAE 
 
 Augustus. 
 
 Maecenas. 
 
 Brutus. 
 
 Cassius. 
 
 Caius, 
 
 Balbus, 
 
 Horace, 
 
 Decius Mus, 
 
 Sempronius ViRiDis, a Freshman, 
 
 Students of the University of 
 Athens. 
 
 The Vice-Chancellor of the University. 
 
 The Public Orator. 
 
 QuiNTUs Russellus Maximus, the Special Correspondent of the 
 
 "Acta Diurna." 
 The Ghost of Caesar. 
 Lydia. 
 Students, Soldiers, Guards, etc. 
 
SCENE I 
 
 In front of the great gate of the College. Lydia's 
 house on the left of the stage. 
 
 Caius and Balbus in cap and gown. Horace and 
 Decius Mus lounging in the background. 
 
 Caius. — What time d'ye call it, Balbus? Why, 
 
 good heaven, 
 I do declare it 's only half-past seven ! 
 And I was up last night till after two. 
 And lost, — the Furies know how much, — at loo. 
 As I was dreaming how you trumped my knave 
 The bell its matutinal warning gave : 
 Forth from his cosy bed the student shoots 
 Clad in a toga and a pair of boots, 
 Knocks down his soap-dish, blunders with his 
 
 brushes. 
 And, half-undressed, to morning temple rushes. 
 Bal. — Pray: who 's that young Apulian? To my 
 
 knowledge 
 I was on nodding terms with all the college. 
 
 Cfl/.— That? Why, 'tis little Horace. Don't you 
 
 know him? 
 The same that got the Chancellor's Prize Poem ; 
 Who wears six rings, and curly as a maid is ; 
 
6 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene i 
 
 Who 's always humming songs about the ladies; 
 Who never comes inside the gates till four ; 
 Who painted green the Senior Tutor's door. 
 I'll make you both acquainted. Here, my fuchsia, 
 This is the famous freshman from Venusia ! 
 And this is Balbus, cleverest of dabs 
 At losing races and at catching crabs. 
 As to his antecedents, you must look 
 In the first page of Henry's Latin Book. 
 
 Hor. — Can this be Balbus, household word to all. 
 Whose earliest exploit was to build a wall? 
 Who, with a frankness that I'm sure must charm 
 
 ye, 
 
 Declared it was all over with the army. 
 
 Can this be he who feasted, as 'twas said. 
 
 The town at fifty sesterces a-head? 
 
 But, while the thankless mob his bounty quaffed, 
 
 Historians add — that there were some who laughed. 
 
 I should be deeply honoured if I might 
 
 Secure your presence at my rooms to-night. 
 
 A friend has sent me half-a-dozen brace 
 
 Of thrush and blackbird from a moor in Thrace. 
 
 These we will have for supper, with a dish 
 
 Of lobster-patties, and a cuttle-fish ; 
 
 While those who have not dined in hall may rally O 
 
 Round that gigantic mess beginning galeo — 
 
 Lepado — temacho — and the Lord knows what. 
 
 You'll find it all in Liddell and in Scott. 
 
 Bal. — A thousand thanks: the honour will be 
 mine. 
 But our Homeric lecture stands for nine. 
 
SCENE I] HORACE AT ATHENS 7 
 
 Let 's go to breakfast, Caius ; since I hate 
 To scald my mouth for fear of being late. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Horace and Decius Mus. 
 
 Hot. — My Decius, since our earliest private school 
 You always were my fond and faithful fool. 
 I ate the blackberries : you scratched your legs. 
 I took the nests: you blew the addled eggs. 
 When we stole out at night to see the play 
 'Twas you, not I, who could not sit next day. 
 And now we live, a pair of trusty friends, 
 With common pleasures and with common ends. 
 To you, my Decius Mus, to you alone 
 I trust the secret that I burn to own. 
 Why is my colour gone, my visage lank? 
 Why did I steer our boat against the bank? 
 Why is my wine untasted in the glass? 
 Why do I tremble when the Proctors pass? 
 By Proserpine below, by Jove above, 
 By mine own head I swear that I'm in love! 
 
 Dec. M. — Don't swear so loud. I've not the slight- 
 est doubt of it. 
 I never knew the time when you were out of it. 
 
 Hor.—'Tis true! 'Tis true! But this is not the 
 same. 
 So pure, so ardent, and so bright a flame ! 
 Oh face! oh form celestial! 
 
 Dec. M. — I knows her. 
 
 Quis multa gracilis te, Pyrrha, in rosa? 
 
 Hor. — Pyrrha, the faithless sorceress! 
 
 Dec. M.— Ah, I see ! 
 
 Extremum Tanaim si biberes, Lyce. 
 
8 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene i 
 
 Or her you told us of last night when beery, — 
 Die et argutae properet Neaerae. 
 
 Hor.—My sweetheart, Mus, outshines Neaera far 
 As D'Orsey's comet ^ beats the polar star. 
 Unkind as Lyce, and than Pyrrha giddier, 
 Whom can I mean but lovely wayward Lydia? 
 
 Dec. M. [aside]. — Perdition catch this fellow and 
 his curls! 
 That such a doll as this should please the girls! 
 Lydia, my fondest hope, my only joy ! 
 [Aloud\ Horace, you're taken in this time, my boy. 
 Your darling Lydia is not all you think. 
 For a young lady she 's a whale at drink: 
 And, though I don't believe the fact the least, 
 They say she went to the Olympian feast 
 In young Muraena's drag. 
 
 Hor. — They lie! They lie! 
 
 They dared not breathe a word if I were by. 
 I love her, though she 's petulant and cruel. 
 As Radley boys adore the Reverend Sewell. 
 And now I've come to spend some anxious hours 
 Prostrate before her threshold, crowned with flowers. 
 Such was the custom, as good scholars know, 
 Of classic lovers long long time ago. 
 And if they doubt it, let them please to look 
 At my sixth line, ode twenty-fifth, first book; 
 
 ^ 111 the year i860 the Rev. Mr. D'Orsey obtained the Chan- 
 cellor's medal for a poem on the Great Comet of 1858. This 
 gentleman soon after became English lecturer at Corpus Col- 
 lege, and commenced a course of instruction in clerical and 
 public elocution : an undertaking in which the undergraduates 
 of the day chose to discover something ludicrous. 
 
SCENE I] HORACE AT ATHENS 9 
 
 And as a penance let them learn by heart 
 The note by Anthon, and the verse by Smart. 
 
 Sings. 
 " Wake, O wake, my soul's enchantress! 
 Listen to your lover's pleadings ! 
 Recognize in each effusion 
 Doctor Bentley's various readings. 
 Fair as golden Aphrodite ; 
 Piquante as Rebecca Sharpe ; 
 Worthy of the pen of Trollope; 
 Theme for old Anacreon's harp; 
 Colder than out-college breakfasts ; ' 
 Harder than the Old Court stones; 
 Beam upon me from the window; 
 Have compassion on my groans ! " 
 [Horace lies down on the threshold of I^yjua^s house 
 Lydia opens the door, and stumbles over him. 
 
 Lyd. — Plague take you, Horace ! See, you've torn 
 my gown. 
 Get up ; and don't stay sprawling like the clown 
 Who lies with fiendish craft athwart the floor. 
 Then knocks at some unconscious tradesman's door. 
 Come, don't look like a fool, because you're not one ! 
 But use your tongue : — at least if you have got one. 
 Hor. \Gettingup\. — When like Diana's orb, serene 
 and bright, 
 
 ' The kitchen being within the Great Court, it is needless to 
 describe the condition in which stewed kidneys or curried fish 
 arrived at lodgings distant half a mile from the college gate. 
 
lo HORACE AT ATHENS [scene i 
 
 You rise resplendent on my aching sight, 
 My senses with a strange emotion swim, 
 And a cold shudder runs through every limb. 
 My eyes are dazzled, and my features glow, 
 As when a student in the Little-Go 
 Draws from his breast a surreptitious Paley, 
 Notes the contents, and floors the paper gaily; 
 Then sees with horror in the gallery frowning 
 Some dread examiner from Cat's or Downing. 
 
 Lyd. — What have you brought me, Horace? You 
 shall rue 
 Unless it 's something elegant and new. 
 
 Hor. — Alas, my charmer, I have nought to bring. 
 I am too poor to buy a brooch or ring. 
 
 Lyd. — Don't talk of brooches or of rings, you dove 
 you, 
 'Tis for yourself, yourself alone, I love you. 
 Since I've been here I've had a hundred danglers. 
 Lords, Fellow-Commoners, and Senior- Wranglers, 
 Scholars, Smith's Prizemen, Deans, Professors, 
 
 Dons, 
 Fellows of Trinity, and Queen's, and John's; 
 But none like you, from all that brilliant throng, 
 I've loved so readily, or loved so long. 
 Your wit 's so racy, and your words so glowing. 
 Your dress so spicy, and your wink so knowing. 
 Your songs are better than ten thousand purses ; 
 So run me off some amatory verses. 
 I'll be your critic: — and beware, I tell ye. 
 You'll find me worse than Hermann or Orelli. 
 But first we'll try one figure of the dance. 
 
SCENE I] HORACE AT ATHENS 1 1 
 
 AthoughtpronouncedjthatBalbuslearnedin France: 
 (Confound my stupid head ! I mean, in Gaul ;) 
 The year he brought me back my Cashmere shawl. 
 
 [Dance. Exit Horace. 
 
 Dec. M. — You faithless baggage, am I so much 
 dirt, 
 That thus before my very nose you flirt? 
 Have I not Iain long evenings at your door? 
 My whole allowance spent, and hundreds more? 
 When the last Isthmian contest had begun, 
 And the two-thousand-drachma race was run, 
 Did I not bet my money on a screw 
 That I might lose four dozen gloves to you. 
 White kid and primrose, sixes and a quarter? 
 Was it for this I jilted Gnatho's daughter? 
 Was it for this I got on the Committee,^ 
 And sent you all my tickets? More 's the pity! 
 
 Lyd.— Kndi if you did, though even that is false. 
 Did I not dance with you the fifteenth valse? 
 And would have tried a galoppe with you gladly. 
 Except for very shame, you waltzed so badly. 
 You purchased me the gloves; (may harpies tear 
 
 them !) 
 But what of that? I let you see me wear them. 
 Do what you will : your time and money waste : 
 But pray allow me to consult my taste. 
 
 Dec. M. — For your sake, Lydia, while you still 
 were mine. 
 They gated me for half the term at nine: 
 And for your sake uncounted sums I owe 
 
 ' The Committee of Management of the Bachelors' Ball. 
 
12 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene ii 
 
 To Gent and Matthew, Litchfield, Ingrey, Rowe. 
 And yet you still my hand and heart despise. 
 Won by the glances of a Freshman's eyes. 
 You and your minion all your lives shall cuss 
 The day you played the fool with Decius Mus. 
 
 [JSxeuni. 
 
 SCENE II 
 
 The Rooms 0/ Horace. 
 
 Balbus, Caius, Horace, Decius Mus, and others, 
 at table. 
 
 SONG 
 
 " Natis in usum laetitiae." — Ode xxvii. Book i. 
 
 To fight o'er cups for joy ordained 
 Suits well barbarian morals. 
 Let us our blushing Bacchus keep 
 From taint of bloody quarrels. 
 
 For Median daggers ill agree 
 With beer-cup rich and brown : 
 So rest your elbow on the couch. 
 And take your liquor down. 
 
 Come, drink about ! and, if you wish 
 That I should do the same, 
 I must request yon Junior Soph 
 To tell his sweetheart's name. 
 
SCENE II] HORACE AT ATHENS 13 
 
 Bend close this way. — Ah, wretched boy, 
 You're not her only suitor. 
 That lady has been long engaged 
 To our Assistant Tutor. 
 
 Dec. M. — Horace, your supper has been quite 
 the thing. 
 You entertain as bravely as you sing. 
 I'm just three-quarters drunk, and tightly filled 
 With roast, and boiled, and stewed, and pulled, and 
 
 grilled. 
 But there is one sad void within your doors, 
 One vacuum which nature most abhors. 
 For nought avails the spiced and bubbling bowl. 
 The pea in season, and the roe of sole. 
 Without fair woman, nature's proudest boast, 
 To pour the coffee and dispense the toast. 
 
 Hor. — That shall be remedied, or Pluto 's in it; 
 For I'm expecting Lydia every minute. 
 
 Dec. M. — Things must be wonderfully changed 
 of late 
 If she 's allowed to pass the college gate. 
 I'll lay a mina on it. 
 
 Hor. — Done with you, — 
 
 That she'll be here to-night. 
 
 Dec. M. — I'll make it two. 
 
 Enter Lydia disguised as a Bed-maker. 
 Sings — 
 
 " I make the butter fly, all in an hour: 
 I put aside the preserves and cold meats. 
 
14 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene ii 
 
 Telling my master his cream has turned sour, 
 Hiding his pickles, purloining his sweets. 
 
 I never languish for husband or dower: 
 I never sigh to see gyps at my feet : 
 
 I make the butter fly, all in an hour. 
 Taking it home for my Saturday treat." 
 
 [Discovers herself. 
 
 Hor. Oh, Lydia dear, I greatly fear 
 
 The porters will look blue, love. 
 On learning how you've tricked them now. 
 It surely can't be you, love ! 
 
 Lyd. But if the Dean my form has seen, 
 Then you'll be up a tree, love. 
 I could not wait outside the gate ; 
 And so it 's really me, love. 
 
 Hor. Well : Lydia dear, now you are here 
 We'll have a game at loo, love ; 
 Although I'm told the punch is cold 
 With waiting long for you, love. 
 
 Lyd. Oh, bother punch! I've had my lunch. 
 And afterwards some tea, love. 
 A glass of sling is just the thing. 
 And quite enough for me, love. 
 
 Enter Sempronius Viridis, a Freshman from 
 Gallia Cisalpina. 
 
 Hor. — Behold the prototype of Verdant Green ! 
 S. V. — Are these the chambers of the Junior Dean? 
 
SCENE II] HORACE AT ATHENS 15 
 
 Hor. — Sir, I'm the Junior Dean. 
 
 S. V. — I wish to state 
 
 The reason of my coming rather late 
 To early lecture on last Friday week, 
 
 Hor. — Young man, I bid you pause before you 
 speak. 
 So grave a breach of college rules, by Castor, 
 Must come before no other than the Master. 
 In suppliant garb arrayed you'll duly call 
 Where stands his Lodge adjacent to the Hall. 
 There ask his pardon. If he chance to scold. 
 Back your entreaties with a piece of gold. 
 
 [Sempronius begins to go. 
 Stay for a moment; let me ask your name. 
 
 S. V. — Sempronius Viridis. 
 
 Hor. — The very same! 
 
 I knew your father. Tell me, if you can. 
 Does he not look an oldish sort of man? 
 
 S. V. — Yes, that he does. 
 
 Hor. — I fancied I was right. 
 
 Hair gray, or now perhaps a little white? 
 Sit down, and join our company, my boy. 
 Let 's give an hour to chat and social joy. 
 The gravest of us now and then unbends, 
 And shares his old Falernian with his friends. 
 
 Cuius. — But first, my dear Sempronius, pray let 
 us 
 Inquire if you've ascended Mount Hymettus 
 To see the Term divide; for, if I'm right. 
 That incident comes off this very night. 
 
 S. V. — Does it indeed ! I thank you from my heart. 
 
i6 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene ii 
 
 If that 's the case it 's almost time to start. 
 
 I don't like walking late in cap and gown, 
 
 For fear of being beaten by the Town. 
 
 [Caius removes his gown, and substitutes his 
 own, which is old and ragged. Dance ex- 
 pressive of remonstrance on the part of Sem- 
 pRONius, and derision on that of the others. 
 They hustle him, out. 
 
 Enter Brutus and CASSivswithRecruiting Ribbons. 
 
 Hor. — Why here 's two heroes coming to recruit 
 us. 
 What is your business, pray? 
 
 Bru. — I'm Marcus Brutus: 
 
 And this is Caius Cassius, a name. 
 Thanks to Will Shakespeare, not unknown to fame. 
 We found our country groaning, and to ease her 
 We sent to his account great Julius Caesar. 
 But young Augustus with a hungry pack 
 Of veteran troops came yelping on my track ; 
 While Antony, more truculent by far, 
 Cries " Havock! " and let slip the dogs of war. 
 There must be here some smart young fellows 
 
 willing 
 To serve their country, and to take the shilling. 
 We find the uniform. 
 
 Hor. — And what 's the pay? 
 
 Bru. — Your wine, and twenty sesterces a day. 
 The bounty will be paid as best it can. 
 For Brutus is an honourable man. 
 Then there 's the glory, and the smiles of beauty, 
 
SCENE III] HORACE AT ATHENS 17 
 
 And some one else to take your turn of duty. 
 Is there one true-born son of Rome who fears 
 To meet the shock of Caesar's hireling spears, 
 With me to conquer, or with me to die? 
 If any, speak! I pause for a reply. 
 
 All. — None, Brutus, none. 
 
 Bru. — Then none have I offended. 
 
 But now we'll go ! 'Tis time this scene were ended. 
 We start to-morrow, by Apollo's grace, 
 On the main route for Macedon and Thrace. 
 So get your kits packed up, and don't be late. 
 The convoy 's due at seven fifty-eight. 
 
 \Exeunt omnes. 
 
 SCENE III 
 
 The Senate-House of the University. Augustus, 
 Maecenas, the Vice-Chancellor, the Public 
 Orator, Decius Mus, Lydia, Students in 
 the Gallery, etc. 
 
 V. C. — Your Royal Highness, wearied with the 
 jars 
 Of civil discord and intestine wars. 
 Has for a while withdrawn you from the strife 
 To taste the sweets of Academic life : 
 And we have done our utmost to prepare 
 A varied and enticing bill of fare. 
 First, with absorbing interest you'll see 
 Maecenas take an honorary degree. 
 Next, Decius Mus, — of whom we're justly proud, 
 
 c 
 
i8 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene hi 
 
 A youth with parts and modesty endowed, 
 On whom our fondest expectations hang, — 
 Will speak a complimentary harangue : 
 Which will be followed by a feast in hall. 
 Succeeded by a supper and a ball. 
 
 Aug. — Think you that to a fool I've such affinity 
 As to consent to dine in hall in Trinity? 
 I know a thing or two of your head waiter. 
 But let that pass: — I thank my Alma Mater 
 For all the kindness she deems fit to show ; 
 And in return this favour I bestow. 
 In honour of my uncle I will found 
 A Julian scholarship worth sixty pound. 
 Examiners, — the Lecturer on Greek, 
 The preacher at St. Mary's for the week. 
 The last Seatonian prizeman, and the Deans 
 Of Pembroke, Corpus, Sidney, Christ's, and Queen's. 
 They will examine, such are my intentions. 
 In plane astrology of three dimensions. {Applause. 
 And in return, for purposes of state, 
 I shall make bold to take the college plate, 
 And lay a tax of ninty-nine per cent 
 On all the Fellows' stipends and the rent. 
 
 {Great sensation. 
 And now we will proceed, if so you please. 
 At once to the conferring of degrees. 
 
 Public Orator leads up Maecenas. 
 
 Pub. Or. — Praesento tibi hunc baccalaureum, cui 
 
 reservatur sua senioritas. {Cheering. 
 
 V. C. — Maecenas, vir amplissime, edite atavis regi- 
 
SCENE III] HORACE AT ATHENS 19 
 
 bus, O et praesidium et dulce decus nostrum, con- 
 firmo tibi tuam senioritatem. Neque dubitari potest, 
 vir reverende atque doctissime, quin si natum ha- 
 berem tuo ingenio praeditum, omnes omnia bona 
 dicerent, et laudarent fortunas meas — 
 
 Students in the Gallery. 
 
 Three cheers for Caius Caesar! 
 
 Three groans for Mr. Bright! 
 And now, in hopes to please her. 
 
 Three cheers for the lady in white! 
 
 V. C. — Since classic phrases pall on minds so weak, 
 'Tis time for Decius Mus to rise and speak! 
 
 Dec. M. — Let me unfold before your royal ear 
 The doings of the Academic year. 
 Religious education and sound knowledge 
 Have flourished generally throughout the college: 
 Although the chapel-clerks, astounding fact. 
 For every surplice seven-and-six exact. 
 The porters too, who really should know better. 
 Charge us a half-penny for every letter.' 
 The Fellowships have gone, save one in three. 
 In inverse ratio to the degree: 
 And we expect next year a Junior Op 
 
 ■^ This impost dated from the time when the postage of let- 
 ters was heavy, and demanded a plentiful store of cash, and 
 careful accounts, on the part of the officer whose business it 
 was to take in the correspondence of a numerous society of 
 people. Those who had the principal interest in the question, — 
 the porters themselves, — credited the couplet with the abolition 
 of the tax. 
 
20 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene hi 
 
 Will, by the aid of book-work, come out top.' 
 
 We've a Hall Steward, who becomes the place, 
 
 And draws his salary with wondrous grace; 
 
 But no one can perceive, as I'm a sinner, 
 
 A very marked improvement in the dinner. 
 
 We still consume, with mingled shame and grief, 
 
 " Veal that is tottering on the verge of beef"; 
 
 Veal void of stuffing, widowed of its ham. 
 
 Or the roast shoulder of an ancient ram. 
 
 Illustrious founder of a mighty line. 
 
 Go forth, and seize the sceptre that is thine! 
 
 Thou who hast studied in thine uncle's school : 
 
 For he did rear a race he might not rule, 
 
 (Although he paid for it exceeding dear :) 
 
 So thou shalt rule a race thou didst not rear.^ 
 
 [Applause. 
 
 '^ In the first edition the above four lines, the dearest the 
 writer ever penned, were suppressed at the last moment, and 
 fresh matter substituted. But a thrifty bookbinder used the 
 rejected pages to strengthen the covers of a certain number of 
 copies, so that the purchaser could gratify his curiosity by the 
 simple process of holding up the binding to the light. Few, — 
 and, least of all, the then Master of Trinity, — could be induced 
 to believe that the author was not a party to this suicidal policy. 
 
 ^ These lines were a parody on a passage well known at the 
 time, occurring in the prize poem on the subject of The Prince 
 of Wales at the tomb of Washington. 
 
 " For he did rear a race he might not rule. 
 So thou shalt rule a race thou didst not rear." 
 The university lyre, which for long past had given forth very 
 feeble strains, was just then falling into the hands of a Chelten- 
 ham freshman, the late Mr. Frederick Myers, who in this per- 
 formance gave promise that was worthily fulfilled by the all too 
 little which he gave to the world. 
 
SCENE III] HORACE AT ATHENS 21 
 
 Aug. — Upon my word, young man, you make 
 
 me proud, 
 Although you need not bellow quite so loud. 
 So well you've learnt your speech, so nicely said it, 
 It does yourself and your instructors credit. 
 And therefore, in return, I'll not refuse 
 Whatever boon you ask. Look sharp and choose. 
 Dec. M. — Then will your highness get me back, 
 
 I pray, 
 A female slave of mine who 's run away? 
 Restore the lass. I ask but for mine own. 
 As lively Lydia through the town she 's known. 
 Free in her manners, saucy in her speech. 
 While others strive a high ideal to reach. 
 And labour to become whate'er they would be, 
 She still remains no better than she should be. 
 There stands the wench, blue-girdled round the 
 
 waist. 
 Aug. By Hercules, this Decius Mus has taste. 
 Well, since you say she 's yours in justice, take 
 
 her; 
 And if she won't go with you, — why, I'll make her. 
 Lyd. — Sir, I entreat you by her name that bore 
 
 you, 
 By that dear maid whose beaming eyes adore you. 
 Save me, O save me, from that bitter fate, 
 To be betrayed to one I scorn and hate. 
 I hate him, for he 's rude, untidy, black, 
 In debt to Parfitt, Warwicker, and Flack, 
 To sum up all, deny it if he can, 
 A jealous, hideous, odious Ten-year Man. 
 
22 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene iv 
 
 Aug. — Take off the girl ! 
 Lyd. Oh, Sire! 
 
 Aug. Have done, I say! 
 
 I can't be waiting here the livelong day. 
 
 [Lydia is dragged off. Scene changes. 
 
 SCENE IV 
 In front of Brvtvs's Tent. 
 Horace on guard. Enter Caius. 
 Ca?.— Horace, my lad, I thought I heard you sing- 
 ing) 
 And so I've come, these slight refreshments bring- 
 ing. 
 We'll drain a bumper to your absent Lydia, 
 The sweetest girl from Britain to Pisidia. 
 And that reminds me. Some one in the band 
 Has brought a letter, in a female hand. 
 Addressed to you : an obol to be paid. 
 
 [Caius delivers the letter. 
 Hor. — There 's something wrong with Lydia, I'm 
 afraid. 
 What's this? {Reads. \ "My Horace, 'tis not yet 
 
 too late 
 To save your darling from a dreadful fate. 
 The fatal time draws nigh. Haste, haste, and 
 save ! — " \Dashes doison the letter. 
 
 Shall Lydia be my faithless rival's slave? 
 Caius, 'tis now the time to come down handsome. 
 You shall provide the money for her ransom. 
 
SCENE IV] HORACE AT ATHENS 23 
 
 Cai. — But all my ready cash has gone in liquor 
 For your consumption. 
 
 Hot. Well then, pawn your ticker. 
 
 Cai. — But why not pawn your own? 
 
 Hot. Oh, heartless friend, 
 
 Your selfish words my tender bosom rend. 
 Was it for this I loved you as myself? 
 Was it for this I freely shared your pelf? 
 Was it for this your board I nightly graced, 
 And criticized your wines with faultless taste? 
 
 Sings. 
 
 We were fresh together. 
 
 I never can forget 
 How in October weather 
 
 On Parker's Piece we met; 
 Nor how in hall we paid so dear 
 
 For shapeless lumps of flesh, 
 And sized for cheese and college beer, 
 
 When you and I were fresh. 
 
 We were Junior Sophs together. 
 And used one Paley card.^ 
 
 ' The card alluded to was an epitome of The Evidences of 
 Christianity, which work formed one among the subjects of 
 the Little-go examination. In this synopsis doctrinal arguments 
 were summed up in rude Hexameters and Pentameters for the 
 assistance of treacherous memories. The eleven proofs of the 
 authenticity of the Historical Scriptures were contained in a 
 couplet of barbarian jargon. 
 
 "Quoted, sui generis, vols, titles, publicly, comment. 
 Both sides, without doubt, attacked, catalogue, apocryphal." 
 
24 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene iv 
 
 They plucked my every feather, 
 
 A usual fate, but hard. 
 You got the Craven and the Bell, 
 
 While I in folly's mesh 
 Without a single struggle fell, 
 
 When you and I were fresh. 
 
 We're Questionists together; 
 
 We both have reached the verge 
 And limit of our tether. 
 
 The hood of fur and serge. 
 Though this should be a Federal firm. 
 
 And that a hot Secesh, 
 We'd fondly still recall the term 
 
 When you and I were fresh. 
 
 Enter Brutus, at the head of his army. 
 
 Bru. — Halt! Right face! 'tention! Don'tbecrowd- 
 ing there ! 
 You seem to think we're forming hollow square. 
 Now, since this neighbourhood is somewhat damp. 
 To-morrow morning we shall strike our camp. 
 And, having marched some twenty miles with unc- 
 tion, 
 Take up our ground beyond Philippi junction. 
 When the first beams of Sol the meadows kiss. 
 Be all of you prepared to start. Dis-miss ! 
 
 [Exeunt all but Brutus. 
 
 The Stage grows dark. 
 There 's nothing stirring all along the line. 
 
SCENE IV] HORACE AT ATHENS 25 
 
 Boy, place a chair, and bring a flask of wine. 
 I'll sit a while alone, and drown my sorrow, 
 And think about my tactics for to-morrow. 
 
 [Sits and sips. Ghost of Caesar rises, to music. 
 Unless I'm wrong, this Massic's rather fruity. 
 I'll have another bottle. 
 
 Ghost. Et tu. Brute ! 
 
 SONG AND DANCE. 
 
 I shrink from the light, 
 
 But at dead of night 
 In a ghastly polka skip I : 
 
 And all this way 
 
 I've come to say 
 That I'll meet you again at Philippi. 
 
 Bru. I very much rue 
 
 That I ran you through. 
 I've been a terrible rip, I. 
 
 But please. Sir, don't! 
 
 I hope you won't 
 Ever meet me again at Philippi. 
 
 Ghost. By the light of the moon 
 
 I have come full soon 
 All armed with Tisiphone's whip, I. 
 Your sins shall be lashed, 
 And your hopes all dashed. 
 When I meet you again at Philippi. 
 
 \Exeunt dancing. 
 
26 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene v 
 
 SCENE V 
 
 The Plains of Philippi. Brutus and Cassius at the 
 head of their army. 
 
 Bru. — Cassius, the fatal hour is drawing nigh. 
 The time has come to conquer or to die. 
 That veteran force at which you daily scoff 
 Is marching to the fight some furlongs off; 
 While all our three-months' volunteers go home, 
 And meet a cordial welcome back to Rome. 
 'Tis time to form my soldiers for the fight. 
 Fall in ! Attention ! Number from the right ! 
 
 [That manoeuvre takes place with the usual 
 
 success. The Army m.arches out. Alarms. 
 
 Excursions. The Army rushes in again 
 
 in confusion. 
 
 Enter Quintus Russellus Maximus. 
 
 Rus. — What means this most discreditable bustle? 
 I am the correspondent, Quintus Russell. 
 Describe the enemy, that I may draw him. 
 
 Sol. — We can't describe him, for we never saw 
 him. 
 
 Rus. — You never saw the foe! This is indeed 
 A most confused, unsoldierlike stampede. 
 I never met with such a shameful scene. 
 As Daily Correspondent though I've been, 
 (At least I doubt if you will find a dailyer,) 
 In every fight from Munda to Pharsalia. 
 
SCENE v] HORACE AT ATHENS 27 
 
 My military knowledge is not small. 
 
 I witnessed Caesar's first campaign in Gaul, 
 
 And found myself in an unpleasant mess 
 
 For making known his tactics through the press. 
 
 The late reforms, as e'en the Horse-guards own, 
 
 Are due to me, and due to me alone. 
 
 Give me the standard! On to martial deeds! 
 
 None dare turn craven when their critic leads. 
 
 This foul dishonour from your annals wipe ! 
 
 Whoever runs shall read his name in type. 
 Sol. — Now by our free and most enlightened na- 
 tion 
 
 We'll teach this Britisher to know his station. 
 
 We are afraid of being killed, 'tis true: 
 
 But strike me blind if we're afraid of you ! 
 
 We'll tar and feather you from head to tail. 
 
 And ride you round the country on a rail. 
 
 Scene-painter, lend us all your brushes, pray. 
 
 We'll take our chance of what the "Times" may 
 say. 
 [They seize Quintus Russellus Maximus. 
 
 Enter Cassius and Brutus. 
 
 Rus. — Release me, Brutus! In the English press 
 I'll say you gained a glorious success. 
 I will indeed ! Or, if it suit you better. 
 You shall yourself compose to-morrow's letter. 
 Stain not your spotless name with useless crimes ! 
 O save the correspondent of the " Times "! 
 
 Bru. — Forbear, my soldiers ! For 'tis most absurd 
 To make a correspondent like a bird. 
 
28 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene v 
 
 Protect the baggage, lest their stragglers loot us. 
 
 [Exeunt Soldiers. 
 Fly, stranger, fly, and bless the name of Brutus ! 
 
 {Exit QuiNTUS Russellus Maximus. 
 All hope has faded. Cassius, be not weak. 
 A Roman's fate together must we seek. 
 Present thy sword, and when I give the sign 
 Fall on my point, and I will fall on thine. 
 
 Cas. — Ah, Brutus, this fond faithful heart will 
 burst. 
 Iflove you far too well to die the first; 
 But, when I've mourned thy death with many a 
 
 groan, 
 I'll bid thy life-blood mingle with mine own. 
 
 Bru. — -Well, be it so. Hold out the fatal blade. 
 One! two! three! Off! Confound it, who 's afraid? 
 {Rushes on the sword, and falls. 
 This was the way I died, but they relate, O, 
 That I was murdered by my freedman Strato. 
 
 {Dies. Cassius runs off with an air 
 of relief. 
 
 Enter Horace humming. 
 
 Hor. — The minstrel-boy from the wars is gone, 
 All out of breath you'll find him ; 
 He has run some five miles off and on. 
 And his shield has flung behind him. 
 I hope this spot is out of range of fire. 
 Why! here's the general prostrate in the mire, 
 Dead as a stoker on the Brighton line! 
 Speak, my lord Brutus! Speak! He gives no sign. 
 
SCENE VI] HORACE AT ATHENS 29 
 
 Woe worth the day ! Woe worth this fatal field ! 
 I've lost my leader, thrown away my shield. 
 My mother charged me, as she tied her bonnet, 
 To come back either with it or upon it. 
 My honour could endure no worse disaster 
 Unless I voted for myself as Master. 
 I'm sure I heartily repent, by Juno, 
 Quod Tnihi pareret legio Romana tribuno. \Exit. 
 
 SCENE VI 
 
 The headquarters 0/" Augustus, near Philippi. 
 
 Augustus, Maecenas, Decius Mus, Lydia, 
 Horace in custody, Soldiers, Guards, etc. 
 
 Soldier. — My Lord, while foraging the country 
 round, 
 Our skirmishers this prisoner have found ; 
 Who, by his gallant mien and splendid coat, 
 We guess will prove an officer of note. 
 He ran so quickly from the scene of strife 
 That his must be a valuable life. 
 
 Aug. — So young, and yet a rebel! Oh, for 
 shame ! 
 Are any here acquainted with his name? 
 
 Dec. M. — This wretched youth, a nursling of 
 sedition. 
 At Athens College holds an exhibition, 
 
30 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene vi 
 
 Which would have gone to me, without a doubt, 
 Had but the Founder's will been carried out. 
 When Rome your Highness for her consul chose 
 He ventured at the Union to propose 
 "That this assembly views with reprobation 
 A measure fraught with danger to the nation ; " 
 A motion which, although opposed by me. 
 Was passed by eighty votes to twenty-three. 
 And in his ode, — conceive it if you can, Sir, — 
 He dared insert a most Horatian stanza 
 Which speaks of Tully as our Forum's pride, 
 A man he knows your Highness can't abide. 
 
 Aug. — Enough, his guilt is proved, at least to me. 
 Rig up a gallows on the nearest tree ! 
 What, in reply to all we just have heard. 
 Can you allege that sentence be deferred? 
 
 Jlor. — My loved protector, patron kind and true 
 Of hapless genius, I appeal to you ; 
 To you, Maecenas, sprung from royal stock. 
 My sweetest glory, and my guardian rock. 
 There are whom it delights with wondrous gust 
 To have collected the Olympic dust — 
 
 Maec. — Perhaps so, but I can't discover quite 
 How that will help you in your present plight. 
 Unless your circumstances greatly alter 
 You're much more likely to collect a halter. 
 Augustus, spare this most unlucky lad 
 Who 's far too idle to be very bad. 
 He sings a sparkling song, can write a bit. 
 And boasts some talent, impudence, and wit. 
 He 's asked to every supper in the town ; 
 
SCENE VI] HORACE AT ATHENS 31 
 
 He got a Camden, and he halved a Browne ; ' 
 And, as a coping-stone to all his praise. 
 He took a seventh class in both his Mays. 
 
 Aug. — Well, if this budding hero is a poet. 
 We soon will find some means to make him show it. 
 To 'scape the consequences of your frolic. 
 Be pleased to parody the Tenth Bucolic. 
 
 i^or.— What haunts detain you on this ill-starred 
 day, 
 
 Castalian Muses, say?' 
 What seat of classic lore, what hallowed stream? 
 
 Stray you by sedgy Cam, 
 
 While from the Barnwell dam 
 You watch the gambols of the silver bream? 
 
 Or by the willows weeping 
 
 O'er Cherwell slowly creeping 
 Swoll'n with the suds of many an ancient hall 
 Past Jowett's cloistered cell and Stanley's stall? 
 Or have ye flown, invoked in boyish song, 
 
 To Harrow's far-seen hill? 
 
 Or hard by Avon's rill 
 Beloved of Hughes the earnest and the strong, 
 And along Barby-road, and round the Island 
 Goal, 
 
 '■ Of late years the Browne medal for Latin and Greek epi- 
 grams had been divided between tlie successful competitors in 
 the respective languages : to the disgust of both 'the half-medal- 
 lists, each of whom, with the partiality of an author, regarded 
 himself as having lost by the change of system. 
 
 ^ ' ' Quae nemora aut qui vos saltus habuere, puellae 
 Naiades," etc. 
 
32 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene vi 
 
 And Caldecott's famed spinny do ye stroll 
 
 On this unhappy morn 
 When fair Venusia's tuneful swain 
 Trembling all in captive chain 
 With drooping eyes endures the victor's scorn? — 
 
 Aug-. — Well done! You really have a turn for 
 rhyme. 
 I think we'll hear the rest another time. 
 Maecenas, you'll impress on him, I hope, 
 How very narrowly he missed the rope. 
 I'll give your protege, still more to pleasure ye, 
 A nomination in the f)ublic Treasury. 
 So be prepared to pass, on this day week, 
 In hydrostatics, German, French, and Greek, 
 One eastern language, botany, precis, 
 (I don't exactly know what that may be. 
 Nor do I long to probe the fearful mystery,) 
 Pure mathematics, law, and modern history. 
 And as for Decius Mus, — well, stop a bit, 
 I think I know a post for which he 's fit, 
 (Unless indeed our partial feelings warp us.) 
 I'll make him English Lecturer at Corpus, 
 There let him work a total revolution 
 In Clerical and Public Elocution. 
 
 Jlor. — My lord Augustus, by the Gods above. 
 This one prayer grant me ! Give me back my love. 
 Without my Lydia life itself is loss. 
 And Treasury clerkships seem but so much dross. 
 Restore my darling ! Well your poet knows 
 To pay what debt of gratitude he owes. 
 
SCENE VI] HORACE AT ATHENS 33 
 
 Aug. — Let mistress Lydia pick, and pray make 
 haste, 
 Whiche'er of these two fellows suits her taste. 
 Our judgement shall be guided by her voice. 
 I cannot say I envy her the choice. 
 
 " Donee gratus eram tibi." — Ode ix. Book hi. 
 
 Hor. While still you loved your Horace best 
 Of all my peers who round you pressed, 
 (Though not in expurgated versions,) 
 More proud I lived than King of Persians. 
 
 Lyd. And while as yet no other dame 
 
 Had kindled in your breast a flame, 
 (Though Niebuhr her existence doubt,) 
 I cut historic Ilia out. 
 
 Hor. Dark Chloe now my homage owns, 
 With studied airs, and dulcet tones ; 
 For whom I should not fear to die. 
 If death would pass my charmer by. 
 
 Lyd. I now am lodging at the rus- 
 In-urbe of young Decius Mus. 
 Twice over would I gladly die 
 To see him hit in either eye. 
 
 Hor. But should the old love come again. 
 And Lydia her sway retain? 
 If to my heart once more I take her, 
 And bid dark Chloe wed the baker? 
 
 D 
 
34 HORACE AT ATHENS [scene vi 
 
 Lyd. Though you be treacherous as audit ^ 
 
 When at the fire you've lately thawed it, 
 For Decius Mus no more I'd care 
 Than for their plate the Dons of Clare. ' 
 
 Aug. — In that case, whether you prefer or not, 
 I must insist you take her on the spot. 
 I'll give you, won by her transcendent charms, 
 The choicest of your patron's Sabine farms. 
 There shall you live 'midst garlands, wine, and 
 
 rhymes, 
 The darling of your own and future times ; 
 And be translated, as a poet should, 
 In prose by Watson and in verse by Good. 
 
 Horace and Lydia embrace. 
 
 Hor. O the heavenly bliss 
 
 Of that first long kiss. 
 As in my arms I locked her ; 
 When none need shout, 
 " You fool look out. 
 Here comes the Senior Proctor! " 
 
 ' Audit ale was treated like claret, and placed for a while in 
 front of the fire ; but the corks, (such corks, at any rate, as fell 
 to the portion of gentlemen in statu pupillari, ) almost invariably 
 left the bottles, and were followed by most of the ale. 
 
 ^ About this period the authorities of Clare College took it 
 into their heads to sell, at the price of old silver, some fine plate, 
 said to have been bestowed on their predecessors, immediately 
 after the Restoration, in order to replace that which had been 
 sacrificed in darker times to the Royal cause. The proceeding 
 excited among collectors of Tudor and Jacobean plate much 
 satisfaction, and a good deal of supercilious astonishment. 
 
SCENE VI] HORACE AT ATHENS 35 
 
 Aug. Light Hymen's torch, 
 
 And deck the porch ! 
 May smiling Venus bless you ! 
 May Chian flow, 
 And roses blow, 
 And critics ne'er distress you ! 
 
 Hor. But now 'tis late. 
 
 The college gate 
 Has long been shut, I'm certain. 
 So thus, kind friends, 
 Our story ends, 
 And we must drop the curtain. 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 1858 
 
IN the year 1858 there appeared at Cambridge the 
 "Lion," a magazine very creditably conducted, 
 written chiefly or entirely by undergraduates. It 
 displayed Transcendental tendencies, which, — com- 
 bined with the belief that some of the contributors 
 knew a good deal of German, and the certainty that 
 others knew very little Latin, — excited the bitter 
 wrath of those young men who aspired to classical 
 honours, andamong them of the author, who parodied 
 the first number in aperformance entitled the ' ' Bear. " 
 A second number of the obnoxious publication soon 
 followed, and produced the " Cambridge Dionysia," 
 which was written in a frenzy of boyish indignation. 
 The " Lion " survived this renewed assault, and got 
 eventually into a third number: which for a Uni- 
 versity periodical may be considered an instance of 
 longevity. 
 
 The prose portion of the " Dionysia " was written 
 for a circle of readers who were obliged, from the 
 necessities of their position, annually to make them- 
 selves masters of the smallest details in the celebra- 
 tion of the Bacchic festivals; and it may still amuse 
 such of them as retain their hold on the main out- 
 lines of that somewhat unprofitable field of know- 
 
40 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 ledge. The verse is in imitation of an Athenian 
 Comedy. Whether it be that the author's mind was 
 at the time more Greek than English : — or that Cam- 
 bridge society was so limited as to admit of the per- 
 sonal allusions being generally intelligible, and, if 
 truth be told, rather scurrilous: — or that the style 
 and tone of a writer are most readily assimilated by 
 those at his own period of life, (and, according to 
 the received chronology, the great poet produced 
 the Knights and the Acharnians while emerging 
 from his teens :) — from some or all of these causes it 
 happens that this trifle, while most inadequately 
 representing the humour, the vigour, the fertility, 
 the exquisite fancy of the comedian, faithfully enough 
 reproduces his mannerism. 
 
 The plot, and much of the text, are in pretty close 
 paraphrase of the "Wasps": — adramawidelyknown 
 in the modern and rather awkward dress of Racine's 
 " Plaideurs." By a fortunate chance the names of 
 the two principal characters in the original play re- 
 quired nothing but the elision of a single letter to 
 adapt them for Cambridge use : and Philoleon an- 
 swers to the Athenian dotard who is placed under 
 tutelage by his own son. Happy time, when an un- 
 dergraduate in his last year of residence seemed an 
 impersonation of old age ! 
 
 The "Cambridge Dionysia" is the only one of 
 the author's republished writings which ever was 
 seen by Macaulay, who read it with the favouring 
 eyes of a former Trinity undergraduate and a very 
 indulgent uncle. 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 A CLASSIC DREAM 
 
 Trinity College, November, 1858. 
 On the first Audit-day of this year ShiUibere, with 
 whom I was engaged upon the Wasps of Aristo- 
 phanes, told me that, as it was the Ilifloiy/a;, ' he would 
 excuse my reading with him, but bade me get up 
 the subject of the Dionysiac festivals against our 
 next meeting. I took a longer walk than was my 
 wont, and by hall-time was quite ready to appreciate 
 the fact of its being a Feast. After dinner, Barlow, 
 the Bachelor Scholar, came to my rooms, and we 
 sat late, drinking sherry, and discussing the merits 
 of the ale at the different colleges. When he had 
 gone I took down the Wasps, but somehow or 
 other I could not make much of them. So I drew 
 my easy-chair to the fire, filled my pipe, and opened 
 
 ^ The classic mind of the great coach might well find an 
 analogy between the day in the rubric of old Athens which 
 derived its name from the opening of the casks to taste the 
 wine of the preceding year, and the day in the calendar of 
 modern Trinity when by solemn custom the fresh brew of col- 
 lege ale flows in mediaeval abundance. 
 
42 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 Smith's Antiquities on the article " Dionysia." But 
 the Greek words bothered me, and I was too lazy to 
 rise for a lexicon. So I fell a thinking on Athens, 
 and what glorious fun the festival must have been. 
 I can recollect nothing more till I found myself in 
 the midst of a strange dream. And yet, marvellous 
 as it was, nothing seemed to surprise me; but I took 
 it for granted that every thing was perfectly natural 
 and consistent. And the dream was as follows : 
 
 I was still sitting in my rooms with my books be- 
 fore me: but it was broad daylight, and a lovely 
 morning, such as sometimes breaks upon us, even 
 at Cambridge, in the beginning of November. The 
 courts were very quiet, but I heard a constant shout- 
 ing in the distance, as if there was some tumult in 
 the streets. Suddenly the door flung open, and Bar- 
 low appeared. He looked flushed and excited; on 
 his head was a garland of ivy-leaves, and he swung 
 in his hand a pewter. "Shut up your books," he 
 cried : " no reading on the UtQoiyla. If you do another 
 equation I'll inform against you for impiety. The 
 God, the jolly God, hates Colenso worse than he 
 hated Pentheus. I've come to fetch you to the theatre, 
 whether you will or no. There is a new comedy to 
 be represented, and all the University will be there. 
 By Hercules, I hope they'll hit the authorities hard. 
 When the performance is over we sup with Rum- 
 bold of Caius, culinary Caius, the headquarters of 
 good living. I am king of the feast, and not a soul 
 shall get off under three bottles. We have stolen the 
 chaplets from the Botanical Gardens; Ingrey sends 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 43 
 
 the dessert, and Stratton has promised to bring two 
 
 flute-players from Barn ." Here I started up, 
 
 crying, "Barlow, lead on! I'm your man." And 
 we danced out of the New Court gate, and up the 
 lane into Trinity-street. And there was a sight that 
 made my heart leap. 
 
 The whole road was crowded with men, all in the 
 wildest state of joy and liquor. Every one acknow- 
 ledged the presence of the God, to whom liberty and 
 license are dear. Laughing, singing, cheering, 
 jesting, they were pouring in an unbroken stream 
 towards Magdalen-bridge. Gyps mingled with the 
 throng, enjoying perfect freedom and equality on 
 this day of the year. Ever and anon some fresh 
 band of revellers issued from the colleges and lodg- 
 ing-houses on the way, and swelled the main flood. 
 Here came a mob of Queen's men, sweeping the 
 street, and roaring at the pitch of their voices, " For 
 he 's a jolly good fellow ": referring probably to the 
 late Senior Wrangler. There, from the great gate 
 of Harry the Eighth, streamed forth the whole club 
 of Third Trinity. In front, arm-in-arm, strode the 
 victorious Four ; while elevated on the shoulders of 
 the crew of the second boat sat the Secretary, his 
 temples crowned with roses, riding a huge barrel, 
 and bearing in his hand a silver bowl foaming with 
 cider-cup. As we passed All Saints'-passage, from 
 the direction of the Hoop Inn there moved a goodly 
 company, twenty-five or thirty in number, and my 
 companion whispered me that this was the Historical 
 Society, and bawled out to them to ask whether 
 
44 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 Elizabeth was justified in putting Mary to death. ^ 
 And just inside the gateway of St. John's College 
 there was a group of young men who successively 
 tried to dance on an inflated pigskin. And he who 
 danced best received a draught of their ale. And 
 presently there came by a drunken Trinity sizar, 
 who, after a successful trial, took the flagon, but 
 when he had tasted, he cursed, and spit, and swore 
 no Trinity shoe-black would condescend to drink 
 it. Upon which a stout Johnian kicked his shins, 
 and, as it was evident that trouble would ensue, and 
 that we as men of the same College would be implic- 
 ated in it, we hurried away, not wishing to dese- 
 crate the festival of the God by evil feelings. And 
 on Magdalen-bridge was seated a knot of idle fel- 
 lows who chaffed all the passers-by. And among 
 others they told a solitary individual in a Downing- 
 gown that he was so few that his College did not 
 think it worth its while to brew for him, but had sent 
 out for a gallon of swipes from the Eagle for his 
 special consumption. So at last we arrived at the 
 gate of the theatre, and after paying threepence each, 
 which had been furnished us from the University 
 Chest, we went in and sat down. 
 
 One side of the Castle-hill had been hollowed out 
 
 ' The Historical Society took its rise at a time when the 
 debates at the Union had given such an impulse to oratory 
 that men were found who thought once a week not often 
 enough for discussing to what extent Hampden was legally 
 authorized in resisting the imposition of ship-money, and 
 whether Addison or the Duke of Malborough most deserved 
 the admiration of posterity. 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 45 
 
 into a spacious theatre. Tier above tier the long 
 benches rose to the summit of the slope. In the 
 front seats were the Vice-chancellor, and the Heads 
 of Colleges, and Doctors of Divinity, and Professors, 
 and Noblemen, and all who could claim founders' 
 kin. And the rest of the space was filled to over- 
 flowing with Undergraduates and Bachelors. But all 
 females were excluded from the spectacle. And the 
 throng was very clamorous, and many were provided 
 with oranges, and nuts, and even stones, wherewith 
 to pelt the unpopular actors. And in the orchestra 
 was an altar, at which Shillibere stood, crowned 
 with ivy, and robed in a long white robe. And from 
 time to time he poured copious libations of ale upon 
 the ground. 
 
 And the stage was veiled with a great curtain, 
 embroidered with the loves and deeds of ancient and 
 god-like men. And there I saw how the chosen 
 heroes had launched a boat of pristine build, and 
 ventured down the river in search of the Golden 
 Fleece, where, as rumour said, the beer which the 
 immortals drank was brewed. And I saw too how, 
 as they passed along the black water, the first prow 
 which had ploughed those waves, the men of Barn- 
 well came down to the shore to wonder at the strange 
 sight. And how, near the Stygian ferry, they came 
 upon a fierce race, who seized their boat with long 
 poles, and threw with unerring aim brickbats which 
 ten bargemen of these days would in vain attempt 
 to lift. And how, when at length they had found the 
 Golden Fleece, their young chief was captured by 
 
46 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 the landlord and his friends, and locked up in dark- 
 ness and solitude. But the black-haired daughter 
 of the inn, who was cunning at medicating ales, and 
 knew the virtues of strychnine and all bitter herbs, 
 was charmed with the flowing ringlets and easy- 
 tongue of the youth. And she stole the key from 
 her father while he was overcome with drink, and 
 eloped to the boat with her new lover. 
 
 All this I saw, and much more. And next me sat 
 a staid bachelor, who seemed as if he had taken no 
 part in the jollity of the morning. So we fell into 
 conversation, and he told me how the theatre had 
 been built under the inspection of Dr. Donaldson, 
 from a comparison of plans furnished by Freshmen 
 in the Trinity College examinations. And he said 
 that the festival of this year was jovial beyond any 
 that had preceded it; for that the public mind had 
 just recovered from the painful excitement caused 
 by the mutilation of the statues on the roof of Trinity 
 Library : which act men had suspected to be part of 
 a plot for overturning the constitution of the Uni- 
 versity, and delivering us over to the Commissioners. 
 And that report said there would be two Choruses 
 in this play. And that fourteen First Trinity jerseys 
 had been ordered from Searle's, and one of great 
 size for the Coryphaeus. And he would have said 
 more ; but a tipsy Pembroke man bade him hold his 
 tongue, or he would bring against him an action of 
 sacrilege, at the next private business meeting in the 
 Union, for disturbing the worship of the God. So 
 we looked, and the curtain had already been drawn 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 47 
 
 down. And the scene disclosed was in the Old 
 Court of Trinity, letter Z ; and two gyps were asleep 
 outside the door ; and the clock struck six, and first 
 one started up, and then the other. 
 
 GyP A. — I dreamed we both were waiting in the 
 Hall 
 Serving refreshments at the Bachelors' Ball. 
 There, gayest trifler in the throng of dancers, 
 Was Clayton ' cutting figures in the Lancers. 
 
 Gyp B. — Well dreamt! But I have dreams as fine 
 as you. 
 Here 's one as marvellous, and just as true. 
 Methought I heard our Rhadamanthine Mayor 
 Deal justice from the magisterial chair. 
 A Corpus sizar had been well-nigh slain 
 By fifteen blackguards in St. Botolph's Lane. 
 The mayor approved his fellow-townsmen's pluck. 
 And fined the plaintiff two-pound-ten for luck. 
 As pensively he rubbed his broken head, 
 "Confound old Currier Balls!" the gownsman said.^ 
 
 Gyp A. — Come now, I'll chat a little with the 
 audience. 
 
 ' This reverend gentleman preached an annual sermon 
 against the Bachelors' Ball : a festival about which reading 
 men talked a great deal, but at which they would as soon have 
 thought of appearing as Mr. Clayton himself. 
 
 ' In this autumn frequent collisions occurred between the 
 boating-men of the University and the police. The most ob- 
 noxious member of the force was a certain 20 C, or 20 K, who 
 is more than once alluded to in the course of this Drama. Mr. 
 Balls, the Mayor for the time being, had pretty constantly to 
 sit in judgement on cases of assault and battery. 
 
48 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 Our master here, who keeps in the top-story, 
 
 Honest Philoleon, for his first three years 
 
 Led a most quiet and gentlemanly life. 
 
 He was not gated more than twice a term ; 
 
 He read three hours a-day ; rode every week ; 
 
 Last year pulled seven in our second boat. 
 
 In all things moderation was his motto. 
 
 But now he 's gone stark mad ; and you must guess 
 
 What sort his madness is.' [To the spectators. 
 
 Gyp B. — That Queen's man there 
 Says that he 's bent on being Senior Wrangler.^ 
 
 Gyp A. — No, no; he won't be old enough these 
 ten years. 
 
 Gyp B. — And that black-whiskered noisy party 
 yonder. 
 Sitting amongst a group of Harrow freshmen,' 
 Guesses he aims at office in the Union. 
 
 Gyp A. — What, to be called "united " and "com- 
 pact," 
 And to be chaffed in the Suggestion Book? 
 Not quite so low as that. Come, try again. 
 D'ye give it up? Well, listen, and I'll tell you. 
 
 Eivtti (f)iXo;ci/^ov auTov* x. t. \. — Wosps^ line 73. 
 
 ^ Queen's college carried off the blue riband of the Mathe- 
 matical Tripos in the years 1857 and 1858, in the person of 
 champions who, according to the gossip of the Senate-house, 
 were by some years senior to their competitors. 
 
 ' " There they sit, compact, united " : was the beginning of 
 the peroration of a notorious attack upon the official party in 
 the Union Debating Society at Cambridge. 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 49 
 
 One Sunday evening, last May term, at tea 
 
 He met by chance a troop of roaring Lions, 
 
 And came back swearing he must join their number. 
 
 Or give up hopes of immortality. 
 
 From that day forth he ran about the College, 
 
 Talking of "Truth," and " Realized Ideals " ; 
 
 And asking men to give him a wou arS ; 1 
 
 And telling them he saw within their eyes 
 
 Symptoms which marked affinity of souls. 
 
 So, in this state of things, his younger brother 
 
 Bdelyleon came up this term to College, 
 
 A sensible sharp-tempered Eton freshman ; 
 
 Who, when he saw his brother's strange distemper, 
 
 Blushed for himself and for the family. 
 
 And first he tried by pleasing the old fellow 
 
 To wean him from his hobby ; taught him songs, 
 
 And took him out to supper: but whenever 
 
 His health was drunk, and he was asked to sing, 
 
 He spoke straight off a canto from " St. Clair."'' 
 
 And then he dressed him in his best, and washed 
 
 him. 
 And got him made a member of the Musical : 
 But, at the first rehearsal, off he ran. 
 His fiddle on his back, and never stopped 
 Till he was inside Palmer's Printing-office. 
 So, vexed and wearied at his constant folly, 
 
 ' Give us a ^roD o-tw, and we will move the vv^orld." — Extract 
 from the Preface to the " Lion." 
 
 ^ A poem in Octosyllabics, entitled " St Clair," was among 
 the contributions to the " Lion," which was published by Mr. 
 Palmer. 
 
50 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 The young one locked him up within his rooms, 
 And placed us here on sentry, day and night. 
 But the old chap is sly, and full of tricks. 
 And loves his liberty. 
 
 [Philoleon appears at the window. 
 Phil. — Hallo, you scoundrel ! 
 Just let me out: 'tis time to go to lecture. 
 
 Gyp A. — Why, you're a Questionist: you have no 
 lectures. 
 
 [Enter Bdelyleon. 
 Bdel. — Was ever freshman plagued with such a 
 brother? 
 What have I done that I deserve this evil? 
 I never was undutiful ; I never 
 Have read a line of Alexander Smith ; 
 Nor picked a pocket ; nor worn peg-top trousers ; 
 Nor taken notes at any college lecture. 
 Who calls dame Fortune blind does not belie her. 
 Phil. — I want a supper order from my Tutor. 
 Bdel. — No, no, old boy, I took good care of that : 
 I got you an Aegrotat. Sold again ! 
 Where are you now? Good heavens ! 
 
 [Philoleon puts his head out of the chimney. 
 Phil. I'm the smoke.' 
 
 Bdel. — Confound the man who altered all our 
 chimneys! 
 Jackson, run up, and beat him with the pewter 
 Till he backs water; then clap on a sack. 
 
 [Philoleon reappears at the window. 
 
 xaOTOf Eyajy k^if^ofAai, — WoSpS, line I44. 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 51 
 
 Phil.—''0 Lord St. Clair, on bended knee 
 I charge you set the maiden free ! " 
 
 Bdel. — In mercy stop that nonsense quick. 
 Your Lion always makes me sick. 
 I feel as ill as when I tried 
 My first and only Smoker's Pride. 
 Phil. — O may the curses of the Gods light on 
 you! 
 And may you wallow in the lowest Hades, 
 Along with all the men who've struck their Tutor, 
 Or laid against the boat-club of their College, 
 Or caught a crab just opposite the Plough: 
 In that sad place of punishment and woe 
 Where lectures last from early dawn till noon. 
 And where the gate-fines rival those at Christ's, 
 And there *s a change of Proctors every week ! ' 
 Then you'll repent of having used me thus. 
 Bdel. — You blasphemous old villain ! Come, you 
 fellows, 
 We all must need some coffee this cold morning. 
 
 {Enter Chorus of writers of the '^ Lion,'' 
 preceded by a chorister bearing a lan- 
 tern. 
 Chorus A. — Rosy-fingered dawn is breaking o'er 
 the fretted roof of King's. 
 Bright and frosty is the morning. Sharp and clear 
 
 each footfall rings. 
 Gyps across the court are hurrying with the early 
 breads and butters. 
 ' New Proctors are as much dreaded in the college courts as 
 new Ministers in the public offices. 
 
52 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 Blithely hums the Master's butler while he 's taking 
 
 down the shutters. 
 In our rooms we left the kettle gaily singing on the 
 
 coals ; 
 And within the grate are steaming eggs, and ham, 
 
 and toast, and rolls. 
 Soon we'll have a jovial breakfast with the members 
 
 of our mess. 
 Chatting of our darling project, future hopes, and 
 
 past success. 
 We have come to fetch our brother. What can 
 
 cause his long delay? 
 It was not his wont to keep us shivering here the 
 
 livelong day. 
 He was always sharp and sprightly when the Lion 
 
 was in question ; 
 Ever ready with an Essay ; ever prompt with a sug- 
 gestion. 
 Surely he must be offended 
 
 At our leaving out his poem : 
 Yet no insult was intended, 
 
 As our want of space must show him. 
 Or perchance he came home jolly, 
 
 Wishing to knock down the porter. 
 And lies cursing at his folly 
 
 With a tongue that tastes like mortar. 
 Show yourself upon the landing : 
 
 Hear your loved companions' groans : 
 For our feet are sore with standing 
 On the rugged Old Court stones. 
 
 [Philoleon shows himself at the window. 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 53 
 
 Phil. — Comrades, when I heard your voices, how 
 
 my heart within me leapt ! 
 Thoughts of happier days came o'er my spirit, and 
 
 I almost wept: — 
 Those bright days when free and happy with some 
 
 kindred soul I strayed 
 Talking of The Unconditioned up and down the 
 
 chestnut glade. 
 Now a cruel younger brother keeps me under lock 
 
 and key. 
 Those I hate are always by me. Those I love I may 
 
 not see. 
 O my own, my cherished Lion, offspring of my 
 
 cares and toil, 
 Would that I and thou were lying underneath the 
 
 All Saints' soil ! 
 Drop your voices, dear companions, lest you rouse 
 
 a sleeping Bear. 
 Chorus A. — Does he then despise our anger? All 
 
 men know who ate Don't Care. 
 Never fear him! We'll protect you. Do not heed 
 
 his threats and frowns. 
 Say your prayers, and jump down boldly! We will 
 
 catch you in our gowns. 
 
 [PniLOLEON/Zac^i- his leg over the window- 
 sill, but is seized from behind by Bde- 
 
 LYLEON. 
 
 Bdel. — Not so fast, you old deceiver! From your 
 evil courses turn. 
 Never will I tamely let you join in such a vile con- 
 cern. 
 
54 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 Sooner than behold my brother sunk to such a depth 
 
 of scorn 
 Gladly would I bear to see him walking on a Sunday 
 
 morn 
 'Twixt a pair of pupil-teachers, all the length of 
 
 Jesus-lane, 
 With a school of dirty children slowly shambling in 
 
 his train : 
 Or behold him in the Union, on the Presidential 
 
 seat, 
 Shakspeare' smiling blandly o'er him. Freshmen 
 
 ranting at his feet. 
 Get you gone, you pack of scoundrels! Don't stand 
 
 bawling here all day. 
 Williams, fetch me out the slop-pail : Jackson, run 
 
 for 20 K ! 
 Chorus A. — Slay the despot! Slay the tyrant! 
 
 Him who cannot brook to see 
 All his neighbours dwelling round him peaceable, 
 
 secure, and free. 
 Well I know you've long been plotting how to seize 
 
 the Castle-hill 
 With a band of hired assassins, there to work your 
 
 cruel will. 
 Let the man who wrote " the Sirens " make a feint 
 
 upon the door: 
 Bring us ladders, ropes, and axes; we must storm 
 
 the second floor. 
 
 ^ In the old Union a Shaksperian bust of more than ordinary 
 vapidity formed a prominent object above the head of the Presi- 
 dent. 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 55 
 
 \Enter Chorus of First Trinity boating-men. 
 Chorus B. — Here they are. Upon them boldly! 
 Double quick across the grass ! 
 Cut them off from Bishop's Hostel, lest along the 
 
 wall they pass ! 
 Forward, Darroch! Forward, Perring! Charge 
 
 them, Lyle, and now remember 
 'Gainst what odds you fought and conquered on the 
 
 fifth of last November : 
 When you broke with one brave comrade through 
 
 an armed and murderous mob. 
 Fear not an aesthetic humbug, you who've faced a 
 
 Cambridge snob. 
 Men of twelve stone, in the centre! Coxswains, 
 
 skirmish on the flank! 
 You're too eager there, you youngsters : Jones and 
 
 Prickard, keep your rank ! 
 Do not stay to spoil the fallen while a soul is left 
 
 alive. 
 We must smoke them out and kill them, now we've 
 caught them in the hive. 
 
 \They charge the -writers in the ^'Lion," 
 •who fly in all directions. 
 Victory ! Victory ! Now for a shout 
 As when we bumped the Johnians out! 
 Vain was the might of Elective Affinities 
 When brought face to face with our valiant First 
 
 Trinities. 
 Victory! Victory ! Huzza! Tantivy! 
 For when a man 
 Who can hardly scan 
 
56 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 Talks of " the pictured page of Livy," 
 
 'Tis time for every lad of sense 
 
 To arm in honesty's defence 
 
 As if the French were steaming over 
 
 In rams of iron from Brest to Dover. 
 
 [Bdelyleon comes out leading Philoleon 
 dressed in a First Trinity costume. 
 Bdel. — Thank you, my brave allies ! and now to 
 prove 
 The confidence I have in your discretion 
 I here entrust to you my elder brother, 
 To watch his morals, and to cure his madness. 
 So treat him kindly; put him in a tub, 
 And take him down the river every day ; 
 And see that no one asks him out to supper, 
 To make him tipsy. Be not hard upon him, 
 But let him have his pipe and glass of sherry. 
 Since he is old and foolish. And, if ever 
 He comes back sound in body and in mind, 
 I'll stand you claret at the next Club-meeting. 
 
 \Exit Bdelyleon. 
 
 PARABASIS 
 
 We wish to praise our poet, who despising fame 
 and pelf 
 
 Flew like a bull-dog at the throat of the jagged- 
 toothed monster itself^ 
 
 Wasps, line 1031. 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 57 
 
 Which rages over all the town, from Magdalene 
 
 bridge to Downing, 
 With the bray of a dreamy German ass 'neath the 
 
 hide of Robert Browning. 
 But some of you good fellows think, as the poet 
 
 grieves to hear. 
 That you are laughed at in "the Bears," the play 
 
 he wrote last year : 
 So he assures you faithfully no insult was intended. 
 Do not cherish bitter feelings; for least said is 
 soonest mended. 
 And next he bids us tax our wit 
 To tell some members of the Pitt, 
 Whose names he knows not, when they meet 
 Him passing into Sidney-street, 
 Not to bawl out " The Bear, The Bear! " 
 First because he does not care : 
 Then surely for a man of taste 
 It is a sin and shame to waste 
 In calling nicknames near the Hoop 
 The breath that 's given to cool our soup. 
 So, being a good-tempered bard, 
 Whichever of them leaves his card 
 He'll ask him out next week to dine, 
 And shake hands o'er a glass of wine. 
 And now he bids you all good evening, and farewell 
 
 till next October; 
 And hopes to-night you'll sup like princes, and that 
 
 none will go home sober. 
 If policeman K arrests you, let not that your spirits 
 damp: 
 
58 THE CAMBRIDGE DIONYSIA 
 
 Break his head, and shave his whiskers, and sus- 
 pend him to the lamp.' 
 
 ' This advice was taken only too literally. The officer in 
 question, on the night of the First Trinity boat-supper, ven- 
 tured within the gates of the College, and was there handled 
 in a manner that led, if the author's recollection serves, to the 
 incarceration of some of the offenders. The prosecutor com- 
 mented with much severity upon the concluding lines of the 
 " Dionysia." 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE, 
 
 OR 
 
 LADIES IN PARLIAMENT 
 
 1867 
 
THE following piece, originally published under 
 the title "The Ladies in Parliament," a frag- 
 ment after the manner of an old Athenian comedy, 
 was composed during the great agitation which 
 followed the rejection of Mr. Gladstone's Reform 
 Bill of 1866. It was intended to be a modern and 
 decent Ecclesiazusae : not such an imitation as would 
 satisfy the scholar; but such as would give the 
 general reader some notion of howaGreek comedian, 
 not of a very high order, might have written if he 
 had lived in modern London. The passage begin- 
 ning "We much revere our sires," — in which an 
 attempt has been made to mimic the jovial con- 
 servatism that goes rollicking through the long 
 swinging metres of Aristophanes, — reflects some- 
 thing of the old Greek manner and spirit. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONAE. 
 
 Lady Matilda. 
 
 Lady Selina. 
 
 First Lady. 
 
 Second Lady. 
 
 Mr. Gay, a young Member of Parliament. 
 
 Chorus of Owls. 
 
Place — The South-east angle of the garden in Berke- 
 ley Square. 
 
 Time — A Morning in July , 1866. 
 
 Lady Selina. Lady Matilda. 
 
 Lady Selina. — 'Tis hard upon ten. Since a quarter 
 to eight 
 I've paced up and down within sight of the gate. 
 If only you knew what a storm of abuse 
 Five minutes ago was prepared for your use ! 
 But in your dear presence, I always have told you, 
 I can't find the heart or the language to scold you. 
 Well! Now you are here, will you kindly explain 
 A question I frequently asked you in vain. 
 And tell me the cause of the constant depression 
 That weighs on your spirits this half of the session? 
 You've not to ray knowledge seen Phelps in " Mac- 
 beth," 
 Nor suffered a recent bereavement by death : 
 From duns you're exempted: at doctors you scoff: 
 Your son has got in, and your girls are got off. 
 Then why are you silent, abstracted, and odd. 
 And deaf to a whisper, and blind to a nod? 
 And, when you are spoken to, what makes you start? 
 And why do you hum as if learning by heart, 
 
64 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 Like members whom sometimes I watch in the parks 
 Rehearsing a string of impromptu remarks, 
 For which in the course of a week they intend 
 To beg of the House its indulgence to lend? 
 
 Lady Matilda. — Selina! The time has arrived to 
 
 impart 
 The covert design of my passionate heart. 
 No vulgar solicitudes torture my breast. 
 No common ambition deprives me of rest. 
 'Tis not for a mind of my texture to fret 
 Though half Westbourne Terrace the entree should 
 
 get. 
 Unenvied, my rival may labour to deck 
 Her trumpery ball with a glimpse of Prince Teck. 
 My soul is absorbed in a scheme as sublime 
 As ever was carved on the tablets of time. 
 To-morrow, at latest, through London shall ring 
 The echo and crash of a notable thing. 
 I start from my fetters. I scorn to be dumb. 
 Selina! the Hour and the Woman are come. 
 
 Unless I'm deceived, through the railings I spy 
 The form of a trusty and valiant ally. 
 'Tis young Mr. Gay. Since at Brighton we met 
 He ranks as the leader and life of our set ; 
 For nothing, except what is useful, unfit ; 
 A dash of the poet, a touch of the wit. 
 A pet of the salon^ the club, and the mess. 
 He knows he can write, and he thinks he can dress. 
 In Parliament, where he as yet is a dumb thing. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 65 
 
 He sits for the Northern Division of something. 
 
 [Enter Mr. Gay. 
 Why, Charlie, who ever would dream, I declare, 
 Of seeing your face at this hour in the square : — 
 Too late to be still on your way from a ball : 
 Too early for even an intimate call? 
 And then so untidy ! I always can tell a 
 Preoccupied man by his tumbled umbrella. 
 And why is your brow with a shadow o'ercast? 
 And why did you stare on the ground as you passed 
 With one of those bits of white card in your mouth 
 Which gentlemen smoke who have been in the South?^ 
 
 Gay. — Dear ladies, be pleased to console with your 
 pity 
 The slave of a tiresome election committee. 
 For this did I canvass, and promise, and flirt. 
 And drink so much sherry, and eat so much dirt? 
 For this my unfortunate sister persuade 
 To dress in a buff of most hideous shade, 
 (Though yellow was just, — the poor girl would ob- 
 ject,— 
 The very last tint that a blonde should select)? 
 For this did I pay in my Published Expenses 
 A sum which affected my guardian's senses: 
 And what in Unpublished I venture to own 
 To my Recognized Agent and banker alone? 
 For this did I stand on the hustings an hour. 
 My mouth full of e.gg, and my whiskers of flour, 
 
 ' This couplet has been more than once quoted as a proof 
 that in 1866 the cigarette was still an exotic rarity. 
 
 F 
 
66 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 Repeating in accents bewildered and hoarse 
 That sentence to which I have always recourse, 
 Whenever I come to the end of my tether, 
 About a strong pull and a pull altogether? — 
 In order to sulk on a quorum of five, 
 Attempting to keep my attention alive 
 By wondering wherefore the witnesses past 
 Should each be more dirty and drunk than the last, 
 And whether the next one can possibly swear 
 To cooler untruths than the man in the chair : 
 While over the window-sill temptingly play 
 The blithe mocking beams of the beautiful day, 
 Which shine on the Row, where in maidenly pride 
 She dashes along at her chaperon's side! 
 Her tresses ^ 
 
 Lady Matilda. — Excuse me. We have not to spare 
 The time to descant on her ladyship's hair. 
 'Tis shocking to think, since that girl you have 
 
 known, 
 How stupid, and useless, and dull you are grown. 
 
 The moment has come for the metre to change : 
 Since prudent stage-managers always arrange 
 At this point of the piece that the music should play. 
 For fear of impatient spectators, who say : 
 "These folks with their prologue are likely to bore 
 
 us. 
 Let 's take a short nap, and wake up for the chorus." 
 
 "^ These lines were written in the Spring of 1866, in the Hud- 
 dersfield Election Committee, which was presided over by Lord 
 Mayo, afterwards Governor-General of India. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 67 
 
 [Sings.] — As towards the City on the Shoreditch side 
 Above a dreary waste of tiles we glide, 
 Rejoicing that the Eastern Coast Express 
 For once has brought us home in time to dress, 
 Pale with the day-long labours of the woof 
 
 We see the weavers from their garrets crawl 
 To court the air of evening on the roof. 
 And their trained flocks of tumblers round them 
 call :— 
 So I must modulate my throat. 
 And pitch a high and jocund note. 
 With melody the town to fill 
 From Regent's Park to Campden Hill, 
 And bid the doves together hurry 
 Who get their plumes from Mistress Murray: 
 Though certain little pigeons blue 
 Prefer the feathers of Descou. 
 
 Haste to my aid, nor deem the summons pert, 
 
 Ye stately queens of fashion and of fame 
 Whose palaces in fair succession skirt 
 
 The park which from its colour takes a name : 
 And ye who dwell in Hill Street's ancient halls. 
 
 Where o'er the porch, whose oil-lamp faintly winks, 
 A rusty quaint extinguisher recalls 
 
 The bygone days of chairmen and of links; 
 Or 'midst the pleasant back streets of the West 
 
 That lurk 'twixt Grosvenor and Cadogan Place, 
 Where newly-married couples choose a nest. 
 
 And with the wedding-gifts their drawing-room 
 grace ; 
 
68 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 Or where, remote from senate and from court, 
 In vistas white of never-ending squares. 
 
 The pensioned Indian's undisturbed resort. 
 
 Far towards the setting sun Tyburnia's stucco 
 glares. 
 
 Hither to the rescue, ladies ! 
 
 Let not fear your spirits vex. 
 On the plan by me that made is 
 
 Hangs the future of our sex. 
 No despised or feeble sister 
 
 Bids you rally for the strife. 
 This is one who never missed her 
 
 Opportunities in life: — 
 Who with no misplaced ambition 
 
 Has her social flag unfurled, 
 And attained the proud position 
 
 Of a woman of the world. 
 Shall she, then, be left to mourn her 
 
 Isolation and her shame? 
 Come in troops round Hyde Park Corner, 
 
 Every true Belgravian dame. 
 For the town is just awaking. 
 
 And you will not meet a soul. 
 Save, perhaps. Lord Chelmsford taking 
 
 His accustomed morning stroll ; 
 Or some swells who've chanced to linger 
 
 Over their cigars and chats. 
 Twirling latch-keys round their finger 
 
 As they loiter home from Pratt's.^ 
 ^ A fashionable evening club in the vicinity of Brooks's. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 69 
 
 Keep the route of Piccadilly, when your expedition 
 starts : 
 
 Though the way be somewhat hilly, and the cross- 
 ings swarm with carts. 
 
 There on warm mid-season Sundays Fryston's bard 
 is pleased to wend, 
 
 Whom the Ridings trust and honour, freedom's 
 staunch and genial friend, 
 
 Known where shrewd hard-handed craftsmen cluster 
 round the Northern kilns — 
 
 He whom men style Baron Houghton, but the gods 
 call Dicky Milnes. 
 
 Lo! the Duke with outstretched truncheon indicates 
 your line of march. 
 
 Motioning " Up, girls, and at 'em"; from the sum- 
 mit of his arch. 
 
 Follow that luxurious pavement all along the 
 Dandy's Slope: 
 
 Past the home of either Rothschild ; past the marbled 
 towers of Hope ; 
 
 Past the wall which screens the mansion, hallowed 
 by a mighty shade, ^ 
 
 Where the cards were cut and shuffled when the game 
 of state was played. 
 
 Now in those world-noted chambers subalterns ex- 
 change cheroots. 
 
 And with not ill-natured banter criticise each other's 
 boots ; 
 
 ' Cambridge House, long the residence of Lord Palmerston, 
 had since become the Naval and Military Club. 
 
70 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 And a knot of young lieutenants at their new club 
 entrance lean 
 
 Little recking of the heroes who have stepped those 
 gates between. 
 
 Then in front of Francatelli's, where men never 
 seem to know 
 
 Whether they may take their sisters, turning to- 
 wards the left you go ; 
 
 And in picking out the foot-track see that special 
 care you use, 
 
 Since the lane down which you walk is half a street 
 and half a mews. 
 
 Stay not till you reach the kerb-stone, where in 
 Berkeley Square I stand, 
 
 With the princely house of Lansdowne and an ice- 
 shop on each hand, 
 
 (Overlook a slip of grammar sanctified by Byron's 
 pen,) 
 
 Thinking out our liberation from the irksome rule 
 of men; 
 
 Peering back towards Lady Jersey's; twirling the 
 expectant thumb. 
 
 By our common hopes and fortunes I adjure you, 
 sisters, come! 
 
 Enter a number of Ladies. 
 Gay. — No passing whim, nocrochetvain and light, 
 Has snatched you, ladies, from your " Morning 
 Post," 
 Whose columns with their tale of over-night 
 Give relish to a tiny plate of toast. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 71 
 
 The hour is ripe an evil to debate 
 
 Which threatens over head and ears to souse 
 In seas of trouble this afflicted state 
 
 Lady Matilda. — I think we're just enough to form 
 a House, 
 And, as for Speaker, I have seldom seen a 
 More proper person than our friend Selina. 
 You, Charley, fetch the roller from the square, 
 And prop it up to represent her Chair. 
 Some pebbles underneath will keep it steady. 
 
 Gay. — But where 's the Wig? 
 
 Lady Matilda. — She 's got one on already. 
 I'll take my station on the fountain's base, 
 Which kind Lord Lansdowne gave our square to 
 
 grace : 
 And, when I think to whom my seat I owe, 
 I hope in eloquence to match with Lowe.^ 
 The ministry, as decent is and fit. 
 Shall just in front along the pavement sit. 
 And try to look as if they did not mind 
 The buffets which assail them from behind. 
 We'll name a sensible and pleasant madam 
 To act for Brand, and some smart girl for Adam ; 
 Who, when the younger members steal away 
 To try the croquet hoops, or eat an ice. 
 Shall seize their skirts, and stop them in a trice. 
 And bid them either pair at once or stay. 
 
 ' Mr. Lowe was then member for the borough of Calne, 
 where Lord Lansdowne's influence was paramount. 
 
72 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 isi Lady. — As from her agitation I imply 
 Matilda means to catch the Speaker's eye. 
 We used to notice, while together waiting 
 Behind the bars of Lord Charles Russell's grating, 
 That on the verge of any fine display 
 Men twist their feet in that uneasy way. 
 
 ■znd Lady. — She 's rising now, and taking off her 
 bonnet, 
 And probably will end by sitting on it. 
 For oft, as sad experiences teach. 
 The novice, trembling from his maiden speech. 
 Drops flustered in his place, and crushes flat 
 His innocent and all-unconscious hat. 
 And my poor husband spoiled an evening suit 
 By plumping down amidst a heap of fruit 
 Which some admiring friend, his thirst to quench, 
 Had peeled beside him on the Treasury Bench. 
 
 Lady Matilda. — Since Britain first, to hear her 
 charter sung 
 In florid numbers by angelic tongue. 
 At heaven's injunction left the azure deep; — 
 Since acres, kine, and tenements, and sheep 
 Enrich the eldest, while the younger sons 
 Monopolize the talents and the duns ; — 
 In every age, so rule the Powers above, 
 Maternal foresight guides the course of love. 
 Nor seek I now your conscience to perplex 
 With strictures on the mission of our sex. 
 No London mother ever yet repined 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 73 
 
 Beneath a burden shared by all her kind. 
 In one short line my grievance thus I state: — 
 Our youngest girls come out a year too late. 
 For in the days when Pam retained the wheel 
 " We knew the men with whom we had to deal." ' 
 
 {Applause. 
 Then sucking statesmen seldom failed in seeing 
 The final cause and import of their being. 
 They dressed; they drove a drag; nor sought to 
 
 shirk 
 Their portion of the matrimonial work. 
 They flocked to rout and drum by tens and twelves; 
 Danced every dance ; and left their cards themselves, 
 While some obliging senatorial fag 
 Slipped their petitions in the Speaker's bag. 
 They charged their colleagues of maturer ages 
 With pushing local bills through all their stages; 
 Consigned the dry routine of public life 
 To legislators furnished with a wife ; 
 And thought it much if once in twenty nights 
 They sauntered down to swell the party fights. 
 
 But now what fond regrets pervade my breast 
 To note a stripling, from some lofty nest 
 Of bright historic fame but lately fledged ; 
 To no loved object, save the ballot, pledged ; 
 By travel taught less sharply to recoil 
 From notions grown on Trans-Atlantic soil ; 
 
 ' This phrase, applied by Mr. Gladstone to the seceders from 
 the Liberal party in the Reform Bill divisions, was just then the 
 subject of much criticism and complaint. 
 
74 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 Weaned from the creed of all his kin and kith ; 
 On Bentham nursed, and fed on Goldwin Smith; 
 And fresh from learning at the feet of Grote 
 How governors should rule and freemen vote; 
 His one supreme intent, through woe and weal. 
 To hold by Gladstone as he held by Peel. 
 Refined yet negligent; for want of taste 
 In every groom's and valet's eyes disgraced; 
 Scorned by his tailor; little apt to mind 
 Though fashion leave him half a year behind. 
 In social wiles unversed, a rumoured ball 
 Extracts from him no mild suggestive call : 
 Nor deigns he in the ranged quadrille to stand. 
 Unless to claim a fair constituent's hand 
 Or serve some party end ; and, if by chance 
 On one of our dear girls he wastes a dance, 
 She hears him wonder, 'midst the figure's pause, 
 How Coleridge will dispose of Heathcote's clause : ^ 
 Dread words, which damp, beyond all power to 
 scorch, 
 
 ^ Mr. Coleridge, Q.C. had introduced a Tests Abolition Bill 
 into the House of Commons. Sir William Heathcote was the 
 Conservative member for Oxford University. His name gave 
 occasion for one of those few repartees which, beyond all cavil, 
 have been extempore. At the general election of 1866 the poll- 
 ing in the Oxford Senate-house was watched by leading friends 
 of the respective candidates. An old Master of Arts, who doubt- 
 less had formerly supported Mr. Gladstone, when asked which 
 
 way he voted, said ; " I vote for Glad ; no, I mean for 'Eath- 
 
 cote and 'Ardy." The Liberals proceeded to claim the vote ; but 
 the Conservative managers objected, and said, very truly, " He 
 never finished Mr. Gladstone's name." Professor Henry Smith 
 quietly replied ; " But he never began either of the others.'' 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 75 
 The match that might have kindled Hymen's torch. 
 
 And when at noon along the joyous Row 
 The ceaseless streams of youth and beauty flow, 
 Though azure habit and artistic hat 
 Invite to snatches of half-tender chat, 
 He turns where, grave and silent, yet serene, 
 His chieftain rides two mirthful troops between, 
 And meets the kindly breeze that fans away 
 Each trace and relic of the nightly fray ; — 
 The trifling slip, by eloquence retrieved ; 
 The words misconstrued, purpose misconceived ; 
 The forced and mocking laugh of feigned surprise 
 That down the hostile lines by concert flies; 
 The taunt of fear too fevered to be just. 
 And shallowness which deems itself mistrust; 
 The venomed stab of envy, that would fain 
 Assume the mien and language of disdain. 
 
 Yet long we suffered, chastened to endure 
 The ills that picnics and July might cure. 
 But summer wanes, and visions once so fair 
 Result in Prorogation and despair. 
 The mother sees a wan and jaded band 
 Unwed, undanced-with, and untalked-to, stand. 
 The wife, beguiled by dim and flickering hopes 
 Of random callers, in her boudoir mopes. 
 Or sits, with ears intent on casual knocks. 
 Though Patti sings, sole inmate of her box. 
 
 isi Lady.— Yes, indeed! 'Tis past all bearing 
 when a husband slights his bride 
 
76 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 Who last Christmas still was blushing at her elder 
 
 sister's side ; 
 Still on some minute allowance finding collars, boots, 
 
 and gloves ; 
 Still to cousinly flirtations limiting her list of loves ; 
 Still by stern domestic edict charged on no account 
 
 to read 
 Any of Miss Bronte's novels, or to finish Adam 
 
 Bede. 
 When she says to Charles or Henry: "Will you 
 
 take me out a walk ? 
 Since the Bill is in Committee scarcely find we time 
 
 to talk; 
 And to-day I can't go shopping, though I have so 
 
 much to do. 
 For the grey you bought in Yorkshire always seems 
 
 to cast a shoe. 
 Quite the nicest way to spend a penny is to hire a 
 
 chair. 
 And from underneath the lime-trees watch Lord 
 
 Granville drive his pair. 
 We may catch a look at Arthur, struggling with his 
 
 team of roans : 
 And I'm told he soon will break his own or some one 
 
 else's bones. 
 Since he 's not what fast young ladies prone to slang 
 
 would call a dab. 
 Then we'll dine, and run together in a cosy hansom 
 
 cab 
 To the Prince of Wales's play-house, though it be 
 
 not quite the thing. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 77 
 
 For my heart is set on hearing pretty Fanny Josephs 
 sing. 
 
 You shall have the soup I copied from the Wind- 
 ham Club receipt, 
 
 (Though papa declared on Sunday that it was not 
 fit to eat,) 
 
 Followed by those salmon cutlets which the cook 
 has learned to do. 
 
 Or perhaps a little turbot, just enough for me and 
 you." 
 
 But the budding politician "Not to-night, my 
 pet," replies; 
 
 "I've a motion on the paper, and must wait my 
 time to rise ; 
 
 Since in this distracting crisis ill the private mem- 
 ber fares. 
 
 If he be not Bright or Kinglake, should he miss his 
 place at prayers. 
 
 You may ask the girls to dinner, — add the urn, and 
 call it tea. 
 
 Well I know the ways of women when they get an 
 evening free! 
 
 We shall sit with ranks unbroken, cheering on the 
 fierce debate. 
 
 Till the sun will light me homewards as I trudge 
 through Storey's Gate 
 
 Racked with headache, pale and haggard, worn by 
 nights of endless talk, 
 
 While the early sparrows twitter all along the Bird- 
 cage Walk. 
 
78 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 O, to roam o'er glen and corrie, far away from fuss 
 
 and sham, 
 Lunching on a chicken sandwich and a slice of bread 
 
 and jam ; 
 Tramping after grouse or partridge through the 
 
 soft September air, 
 Both my pockets stuffed with cartridge, and my 
 
 heart devoid of care ! " 
 
 Gay. — If Ministers wish us the Tories to beat. 
 They surely should grant us the leisure to eat : 
 But Liberal youngsters do nothing but fast 
 Since ever this measure began to be passed. 
 Brand kept me from table three nights in one week 
 By hinting that Lowe was intending to speak; 
 Although I suspect to detain me he tried 
 In case Captain Hayter thought fit to divide. 
 When all that is clever at Arthur's or White's 
 Has set itself down for the gayest of nights ; — 
 When the steward is warned, and the cook has a 
 
 hint 
 To see there be neither redundance nor stint. 
 That the whitebait are crisp, and the curry is hot. 
 Since some one is coming who knows what is 
 
 what ; — 
 When over the port of the innermost bin 
 The circle of diners are laughing with Phinn; 
 When Brookfield has hit on his happiest vein. 
 And Harcourt is capping the jokes of Delane ; — 
 Possessed by alarm of impending collisions 
 With doubtful supporters who count my divisions 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 79 
 
 I crouch 'neath the gallery eating my fill 
 Of biscuits concealed in the folds of a Bill : 
 While stretched at my feet a promiscuous heap 
 Of gentlemen lie in the gangway asleep. 
 
 Lady Matilda. — One chance remains, the last 
 
 and surest course 
 Of injured worth: — a bold appeal to force. 
 Through Crescent, Terrace, Circus, and Arcade 
 Shall scouts proclaim a feminine crusade. 
 Let Knightsbridge, Pimlico, and Brompton meet. 
 Where Grosvenor Place is lost in Eaton Street; 
 While Portman Square and Hyde Park Gardens 
 
 march 
 At break of dawn beneath the Marble Arch. 
 Across Victoria Road, with beat of drum. 
 Straight towards the Abbey bid our musters 
 
 come; 
 Beset the House, and all approaches guard 
 From furthest Millbank round to Palace Yard; 
 Invest the lobbies ; raise across the courts 
 A barricade of Bluebooks and Reports ; 
 Suspend for good the Orders of the Day ; 
 To serve as hostage seize Sir Thomas May ; 
 And with one daring stroke for ever close 
 The fount and origin of these our woes. 
 Till man, who holds so light our proper charms. 
 Is brought to reason by material arms. 
 And learns afresh, what all his fathers knew, 
 His highest function, our most cherished due. 
 
 \Applause. 
 
8o THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 Lady Selina. — Thus we sit our treason netting, 
 
 Talking words that might have hung us, 
 All the while like geese forgetting 
 
 We have here an Owl among us/ 
 Yes, my Charley, I've a notion 
 
 That a youth who shall be nameless 
 Wrote the " Diary of Goschen," 
 
 Though he looks so meek and blameless. 
 
 \They surround Gay in threatening attitudes. 
 
 Lady Matilda. — The Whig profane who rudely 
 pries 
 In regions masked from vulgar eyes, — 
 Who once has trod the sacred rug 
 Where Tories lounge in conclave snug, 
 And listen while their whips recite 
 The tactics of a coming fight, 
 Or speculate in murmurs low 
 How far the Cave intends to ^o, — 
 That rash intrusive wasp alive 
 Will never quit the Carlton hive. 
 We, less severe, accord you leave 
 To earn an undeserved reprieve 
 
 ^ The "Owl," — the first in point of time among Society 
 papers, — was then in its third season of publication. It was 
 written by people all of whom might very fairly be called men 
 of fashion, and who took no payment for their contributions. 
 The profits were spent on a weekly dinner of extraordinary ex- 
 cellence ; and those profits became a cause of great embarrass- 
 ment, for they very soon were large enough to have feasted 
 half Mayfair. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 8i 
 
 By coaxing with harmonious call 
 Your vagrant brethren hither all, 
 And warning them in silence deep 
 Our counsels and resolves to keep. 
 
 Gay [sings.] — Gentle birds of plumage tawny, 
 
 Whom the pale policeman greets 
 Flitting nestwards, as at dawn he 
 
 Treads his weary round of streets ; 
 Tribe vivacious, bound to serve a 
 Term of seasons to Minerva; 
 This a poet, that a sceptic ; 
 
 Tufted some, and others crestless; 
 Roguish, easy, gay, eupeptic. 
 
 Frisky, truant, vague, and restless; 
 Haunt and perch for ever changing 
 
 As the needs of gossip call ; 
 Towards the hour of luncheon ranging 
 
 Round the Board-rooms of Whitehall, 
 Where a busy race of men 
 Tie the tape and drive the pen 
 Till the welcome stroke of four 
 Open throws their office door. 
 There the food which suits his humour 
 
 Never yet an Owl has lacked : 
 Scraps of talk and crumbs of rumour. 
 
 Here a guess, and there a fact. 
 So, through each Department hopping. 
 Culling truth, and fiction dropping. 
 
 Off you fly to print and risk it, 
 
 G 
 
82 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 When your crop with news is stored 
 By some lazy Junior Lord 
 Yawning o'er his mid-day biscuit. 
 
 Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! 
 
 When the warning note I utter 
 All the tuneful, roving crew 
 
 Round their mate will swiftly flutter. 
 
 Once again, when chill and dark 
 Twilight thins the swarming park, 
 Bearing home his social gleaning, 
 Jests and riddles fraught with meaning. 
 Scandals, anecdotes, reports, 
 Seeks the fowl a maze of courts 
 Which with aspect towards the west 
 
 Fringe the street of sainted James, 
 Where a warm secluded nest 
 
 As his sole domain he claims; 
 From his wing a feather draws, 
 
 Shapes for use a dainty nib, 
 
 Pens his parody or squib. 
 Combs his down, and trims his claws. 
 And repairs where windows bright 
 Flood the sleepless square with light; 
 Where behind the tables stand 
 Gunter's deaf and voiceless band ; 
 Where his own persuasive hoot 
 Mingles with the strains of Coote, 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 83 
 
 While, retiring and advancing, 
 
 Softly through the music's storm 
 Timid girls discourse on dancing, 
 
 And are mute about Reform ; 
 In a sea of flounces swimming; 
 
 Waves of rustling tulle above; 
 Strewn below the wrecks of trimming, 
 
 Shattered fan, and crumpled glove. 
 
 Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! 
 
 When they see I'm of a feather 
 All the tuneful, roving crew 
 
 Speedily will flock together. 
 
 Enter Chorus of Owls. 
 Chorus. — -Whatthe dickens means our brother 
 
 By tu-whitting and tu-whooing? 
 Much we fear he 's laid another 
 
 Pun, as he is always doing; 
 Or has hatched a long acrostic 
 
 From the dictionary taken ; 
 Something fit to pose a Gnostic, 
 
 And defy the skill of Bacon. 
 
 But now for half-an-hour must cease 
 The plot and business of the piece: 
 Because the audience has been 
 Long anxious for a change of scene 
 In dread of growing, ere it budges, 
 
84 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 As old as Derby's Irish Judges.' 
 So shift the canvas, while we speak 
 A chorus modelled from the Greek. 
 
 We much revere our sires, who were a mighty race 
 
 of men. ^ 
 For every glass of port we drink they nothing 
 
 thought of ten. 
 They dwelt above the foulest drains. They breathed 
 
 the closest air. 
 They had their yearly twinge of gout, and little 
 
 seemed to care. 
 They set those meddling people down for Jacobins 
 
 or fools 
 Who talked of Public Libraries, and grants to 
 
 Normal Schools; 
 
 ' There was much debate in 1866 on the retention of the 
 Lord Chief Justiceship in Ireland by a man of ninety-one, with 
 the object, (as was reasonably conjectured,) that, after an ap- 
 proaching change of Government, the appointment of his suc- 
 cessor might fall to the Prime Minister of his own party. He 
 was defended in Parliament by his son, whose speech favour- 
 ably impressed a House of Commons which always has a soft 
 heart on such occasions. The effect, however, of this exhibition 
 of filial piety was quite irretrievably spoiled by an Irish mem- 
 ber w-ho rose to inquire, with every mark of sympathy, whether 
 the Honourable Gentleman who had just sate down had not 
 been discharged from serving on Committees of the House on 
 account of his advanced years. As a matter of fact the son had 
 already passed sixty, which was the age of exemption. 
 
 Knights, 565. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 85 
 
 Since common folks who read, and write, and like 
 
 their betters speak, 
 Want something more than pipes, and beer, and 
 
 sermons once a week. 
 And therefore both by land and sea their match they 
 
 rarely met, 
 But made the name of Britain great, and ran her 
 
 deep in debt. 
 They seldom stopped to count the foe, nor sum the 
 
 moneys spent, 
 But clenched their teeth and straight ahead with 
 
 sword and musket went; 
 And, though they thought if trade were free that 
 
 England ne'er would thrive. 
 They freely gave their blood for Moore, and Wel- 
 lington, and Clive; 
 And, though they burned their coal at home, nor 
 
 fetched their ice from Wenham, 
 They played the man before Quebec and stormed 
 
 the lines at Blenheim. 
 When sailors lived on mouldy bread, and lumps of 
 
 rusty pork. 
 No Frenchman dared his nose to shew between the 
 
 Downs and Cork; 
 But now that Jack gets beef and greens, and next 
 
 his skin wears flannel. 
 The "Standard " says we've not a ship in plight to 
 
 keep the Channel. 
 
 And, while they held their own in war, our fathers 
 showed no stint 
 
86 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 Of fire, and nerve, and vigour rough, whene'er they 
 
 took to print. 
 They charged at hazard through the crowd, and 
 
 recked not whom they hurt, 
 And taught their Pegasus to kick and splash about 
 
 the dirt; 
 And every jolly Whig who drank at Brooks's joined 
 
 to goad 
 That poor young Heaven-born Minister with epi- 
 gram and ode. 
 Because he would not call a main, nor shake the 
 
 midnight box. 
 Nor flirt with all the pretty girls like gallant Charley 
 
 Fox. 
 But now the press has squeamish grown, and thinks 
 
 invective rash ; 
 And telling hits no longer lurk 'neath asterisk and 
 
 dash; 
 And poets deal in epithets as soft as skeins of silk, 
 Nor dream of calling silly lords "a curd of ass'smilk." 
 And satirists confine their art to cutting jokes on 
 
 Beales, 
 Or snap like angry puppies round a mightier tri- 
 bune's heels: 
 Discussing whether he can scan and understand the 
 
 lines 
 About the wooden Horse of Troy,' and when and 
 
 where he dines: 
 
 ' More allusions than enough to this animal were bandied 
 about between Mr. Lowe and Mr. Gladstone during the debates 
 on the 1866 Reform Bill. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 87 
 
 Though gentlemen should blush to talk as if they 
 
 cared a button 
 Because one night in Chesham Place he ate his slice 
 
 of mutton.' 
 
 Since ever party strife began the world is still the 
 
 same, 
 And Radicals from age to age are held the fairest 
 
 game. 
 E'en thus the Prince of Attic drolls, who dearly loved 
 
 to sup 
 With those who gave the fattest eels and choicest 
 
 Samian cup, 
 Expended his immortal fun on that unhappy tanner 
 Who twenty centuries ago was waving Gladstone's 
 
 banner: 
 And in the troubled days of Rome each curled and 
 
 scented jackass 
 Who lounged along the Sacred Way heehawed at 
 
 Caius Gracchus. 
 So now ail paltry jesters run their maiden wit to 
 
 flesh on 
 A block of rugged Saxon oak, that shews no light 
 
 impression : 
 At which whoe'er aspires to chop had better guard 
 
 his eye, 
 And towards the nearest cover bolt, if once the 
 
 splinters fly. 
 
 ' In the London season of 1866 there was much gossip over 
 the fact of Earl Russell having entertained Mr. Bright at 
 dinner. 
 
88 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 Then surely it were best to drop an over-worried 
 
 bone, 
 And, if we've nothing new to say, just let the League^ 
 
 alone ; 
 Or work another vein, and quiz those patrons of their 
 
 race 
 Who like the honest working-man, but like him in his 
 
 place ; 
 Who, proud of rivalling the pig which started for 
 
 Dundalk 
 Because it thought that Paddy wished towards Car- 
 
 lingford to walk. 
 In slavish contradiction all their private judgement 
 
 smother, 
 And blindly take one course because John Bright 
 
 prefers another. 
 
 Let 's rather speak of what was felt by us who value 
 
 "Yeast" 
 On learning who had led the choir at that triumphant 
 
 feast 
 Where Hampshire's town and county joined a civic 
 
 wreath to fling 
 O'er him, the great proconsul, whose renown through 
 
 time shall ring 
 In deathless cadence borne along pianoforte wires, 
 As memories heroic haunt the chords of Grecian 
 
 lyres. 
 That he, who gave our ancient creeds their first and 
 
 rudest shock, 
 
 ^ The Reform League. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 89 
 
 Till half the lads for pattern took his Chartist Alton 
 
 Locke, 
 Should tell us that Debrett within his gilded leaves 
 
 contains 
 The virtue of the British isles, the beauty, and the 
 
 brains ! ^ 
 As if all moral folks were peers ! As if the sweetest 
 
 kisses 
 Had ceased to lurk between the lips of many a charm- 
 ing missis! 
 While Cobden and Carlyle can boast no tall heraldic 
 
 tree, 
 And Tennyson is still Esquire, and Mill a plain M. P. 
 That he, whose brave old English tale set all our 
 
 veins aglow, 
 (How Hawkins, Cavendish, and Drake, went sailing 
 
 Westward Ho, 
 And how they led the Dons a life, and fought them 
 
 man to man. 
 And spared them when they begged for grace, and 
 
 chased them when they ran,) 
 Should teach that " modern chivalry " has found its 
 
 noblest egress 
 In burning Baptist villages, and stringing up a 
 
 negress ! 
 
 ' At the banquet given to Governor Eyre at Southampton 
 the Rev. Charles Kingsley said that the House of Lords 
 contained all the genius and all the virtue of the country, and 
 that it was rapidly monopolizing all the beauty ; as likewise that 
 the conduct of Eyre in Jamaica was a brilliant manifestation 
 of ' ' modern chivalry. " 
 
go THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 But 'tis not on topics like those 
 
 Their talent that owls should exhibit. 
 More suited for vultures and crows 
 
 Are puffs of the cat and the gibbet. 
 We leave it for Newman to search 
 
 The doctrine professed by a parson 
 Who runs from his schools and his church 
 
 To gloat upon hanging and arson. 
 Like garrulous birds we resort 
 
 In quest of a frolicsome theme 
 Where butterflies quarrel and sport 
 
 On the brink of Society's stream. 
 
 Then hither and listen, whoever 
 
 Would learn from our teaching the miracle 
 Of passing for witty and clever 
 
 Without being voted satirical ! 
 He'd better be apt with his pen 
 
 Than well-dressed, and well-booted and gloved , 
 Who likes to be liked by the men, 
 
 By the women who loves to be loved : 
 And Fashion full often has paid 
 
 Her good word in return for a gay word. 
 For a song in the manner of Praed, 
 
 Or an anecdote worthy of Hayward. 
 
 So scorn not to heed our advice. 
 
 Nor deem us impertinent fowls. 
 Nor say that the catching of mice 
 
 Is the proper department for Owls ; 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 91 
 
 For Palmerston liked us and read us, 
 
 And all the vicinity knew 
 That the ivy which sheltered and bred us 
 
 Around the old forest-king grew. 
 Though parties and principles perish, 
 
 Though faint is consistency's flame, 
 Our loyalty ever shall cherish 
 
 That loved and illustrious name/ 
 
 Just one-and-fifty years had gone since on the Bel- 
 gian plain 
 
 Amidst the scorched and trampled rye Napoleon 
 turned his rein ; 
 
 And once again in panic fled a gallant host and 
 proud. 
 
 And once again a chief of might 'neath Fortune's 
 malice bowed.' 
 
 So vast and serried an array, so brave and fair to 
 view, 
 
 Ne'er mustered yet around the flag of mingled buff 
 and blue, — 
 
 So potent in the show of strength, in seeming zeal 
 so bold, — 
 
 Since Grey went forth in 'Thirty-two to storm Cor- 
 ruption's hold. 
 
 But in the pageant all is bright, and, till the shock 
 we feel, 
 
 ' These three stanzas were in ' ' The O wl " of February 21,1 866. 
 
 ^ On the i8th June, 1866, the Liberal Government was de- 
 feated upon Lord Dunkellin's Amendment ; — a defeat that was 
 followed by resignation. 
 
92 THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 
 
 We learn not what is burnished tin, and what is 
 
 tempered steel. 
 When comes the push of charging ranks, when 
 
 spear and buckler clash. 
 Then snaps the shaft of treacherous fir, then holds 
 
 the trusty ash. 
 And well the fatal truth we knew when sounds of 
 
 lawless fight 
 In baleful concert down the line came pealing from 
 
 our right. 
 Which in the hour of sorest need upon our centre fell, 
 Where march the good old houses still that love the 
 
 people well. 
 As to and fro our battle swayed in terror, doubt, and 
 
 shame. 
 Like wolves among the huddled flock the Tory van- 
 guard came. 
 A moment yet with shivered blade, torn scarf, and 
 
 pennon reft 
 Imperial Gladstone turned to bay amidst our farthest 
 
 left. 
 Where, shoulder tight to shoulder set, fought on in 
 
 sullen pride 
 The veterans staunch who drink the streams of Tyne, 
 
 and Wear, and Clyde ; 
 Who've borne the toil, and heat, and blows of many 
 
 a hopeless fray ; 
 Who serve uncheered by rank and fame, unbought 
 
 by place or pay. 
 At length, deserted and outmatched, by fruitless 
 
 efforts spent. 
 
THE MODERN ECCLESIAZUSAE 93 
 
 From that disastrous field of strife our steps we 
 
 homeward bent, 
 Erelong to ride in triumph back, escorted near and 
 
 far 
 By eager millions surging on behind our hero's car; 
 While blue and yellow streamers deck each Tory 
 
 convert's brow, 
 And both the Carltons swell the shout: " We're all 
 
 Reformers now! " 
 
ANGLO-INDIAN LYRICS 
 
 1863 
 
The four pieces, which follow, first ap- 
 peared ia much the same shape in the 
 " Letters of a Competition Wallah." 
 
ANGLO-INDIAN LYRICS 
 
 Lib. in. Carm. 7, 
 
 Quidjies, Asterie, quern tihi candidi 
 Prima restituent vere Favonii? 
 
 I 
 
 MY dear Miss White, forbear to weep 
 Because the North-West breezes keep 
 At anchor off Rangoon 
 That youth who, richer by a lac. 
 May safely be expected back 
 Before the next Monsoon. 
 
 II 
 
 Beneath his close mosquito nets 
 With love and prickly-heat he frets 
 
 On Irrawaddy's water, 
 Nor heeds a dame on board the ship, 
 Who lets no fair occasion slip 
 
 For praising up her daughter. 
 
 Ill 
 
 She talks of maiden's heart so true, 
 And angry brothers six foot two 
 Demanding satisfaction. 
 
 H 
 
98 ANGLO-INDIAN LYRICS 
 
 And, as a last resource, throws out 
 Hints very palpable about 
 A breach-of-promise action, 
 
 IV 
 She tells how Pickwick's glance of fire ' 
 Quailed 'neath an angry woman's ire: 
 
 But let not that alarm ye. 
 He still remains as deaf as those 
 Who govern India to the woes 
 
 Of Bengal's ill-used army. 
 
 V 
 
 Fear not for him, but thou, beware! 
 'Tis whispered, (though I hardly dare 
 
 To credit the assertion,) 
 How very kind an ear you lend 
 To that young Civil Service friend 
 
 Who lately passed in Persian ; ^ 
 
 VI 
 Than whom no other Wallah steers 
 With less excruciating fears 
 
 His buggy down the course; 
 Or chooses out a softer place, 
 And with a more seductive grace 
 
 Drops off a shying horse. 
 
 ' " Narrat paene datum Pelea Tartaro. 
 
 Magnessam Hippolyten dum fugit abstinens.'' 
 2 "Attibi 
 
 Ne vicinus Enipeus 
 
 Plus justo placeat cave." 
 
ANGLO-INDIAN LYRICS 99 
 
 Lib. IV. Carm. 8. 
 
 Donarem pateras grataqtie commodus, 
 Censorine, meis aera sodalibus. 
 
 If all my "woulds," dear Jones, were changed to 
 
 "coulds," 
 I'd deck thy bungalow with Europe goods; 
 With bronzes which the awe-struck Baboo stops 
 To gape and stare at in Chowringhee shops ; 
 With flagons such as either Ross has won 
 In many a hard-fought match at Wimbledon ; 
 With Brett's chefs-d'oeuvre which Ruskins buy 
 
 and praise 
 Amidst the scorn of petulant R.A.s. 
 Brave presents these, but how can I dispense 'em 
 With just four hundred odd rupees per mensem? 
 One potent gift I boast, one treasure dear. 
 The access to an editorial ear. 
 Not full length portraits, frame and all complete. 
 Nor yet ovations at his country seat, 
 Nor presentation swords, nor statues, shed 
 Such deathless lustre round his valiant head 
 Who, when 'gainst fearful odds the English van 
 Bore up the battle in the grim Redan, 
 Calm from amidst the cloud of smoke and flame 
 Across the death-swept glacis went and came 
 As that small squad which once the hero sent 
 To pitch our Special Correspondent's tent.' 
 
 ' " Non incisa notis marmora publicis," etc. 
 
loo ANGLO-INDIAN LYRICS 
 
 What gives old Time the lie, and keeps alive 
 In school-boy mouths the mighty name of Clive; 
 Preserves great Hastings from oblivion's flood, 
 And daubs poor Impey with perennial mud? 
 Why, just two articles in that Review 
 Where gaudy yellow strives with dingy blue. 
 Ne'er will the man on whom the press has smiled 
 Pine in Collectorates remote and wild. 
 'Tis not for him the beaten path to trudge 
 From Sub-assistant up to Zillah Judge. 
 And when, persuaded by his wife to give her 
 The best advice in London for her liver, 
 He chooses a convenient month to start in 
 And hurries home to see Sir Randal Martin, 
 These magic words perchance may thrill his 
 
 breast, 
 " Sir Charles and Lady Mary Wood request — "^ 
 
 Lib. I. Carm. ii. 
 
 Tu lie quaesieris (scire nefas) quern mihi, quern tibi, 
 Fineni Dt dederint Leuconde, nee Bahylonios 
 Tentaris numeros. 
 
 Matilda, will you ne'er have ceased apocalyptic 
 
 summing. 
 And left the number of the beast to puzzle Dr. Cum- 
 
 ming? 
 
 ^ "Sic Jovis interest 
 Optatis epulis.'' 
 
ANGLO-INDIAN LYRICS loi 
 
 You should not vex your charming brains about, 
 
 (confusion take her!) 
 The Babylonian Lament, the pretty dragon-breaker. 
 What can't be cured must be endured. Perchance 
 
 a gracious heaven 
 May spare us till the fated year of eighteen sixty- 
 seven.* 
 Perchance Jove's Board of Public Works the dread 
 
 decree has passed ; 
 And this cold season, with its joys, is doomed to be 
 
 our last. 
 Let 's to the supper-room again, though Kitmutgars 
 
 may frown. 
 And in Lord Elgin's dry champagne wash all these 
 
 tremors down : 
 And book me for the fifteenth walse: there, just 
 
 beneath my thumb. 
 No, not the next to that, my girl! The next may 
 
 never come.^ 
 
 1 This was the date fixed by Dr. Cumming- for the end of 
 all things. 
 
 ^ " Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero." 
 
I02 ANGLO-INDIAN LYRICS 
 
 ODE TO CALCUTTA^ 
 
 I 
 Fair city, India's crown and pride, 
 Long may'st thou tower o'er Hooghley's tide, 
 Whose hallowed, but malarious stream, 
 The peasant's god, the poet's theme, 
 
 Rolls down the dead Hindoo; 
 And from whose wave, a stagnant mass 
 Replete with sulphuretted gas. 
 
 Our country beer we brew ! 
 As o'er a pulse physicians stand. 
 Intent upon the second-hand, 
 
 Determined not to miss ticks, 
 I watch thy sanitary state, 
 Jot down of deaths the annual rate, 
 And each new epidemic greet 
 Until my system I complete 
 
 Of tropical statistics. 
 
 II 
 
 Of those with whom I laughed away 
 On Lea's fair banks the idle day,^ 
 Whose love would ne'er my breast allow 
 To hold concealed the thoughts that now 
 Within my heart are pent, 
 
 ' These verses are supposed to be written by an elderly 
 Indian Civil Servant, a passionate student of the laws of sani- 
 tation and mortality. 
 
 ^ The former East Indian College of Haileybury stood 
 within a mile of the river Lea. 
 
ANGLO-INDIAN LYRICS 103 
 
 Who hung upon my every breath, 
 
 Of those dear friends I mourn the death 
 
 Of forty-five per cent. : 
 And Harry Gray, my soul's delight, 
 The brave, the eloquent, the bright, 
 
 The versatile, the shifty. 
 Stretched hopeless on his dying bed. 
 With failing strength and aching head. 
 In cholera's malignant phase, — 
 Ah! woe is me, — will shortly raise 
 
 The average to fifty. 
 
 Ill 
 And when, before the rains in June, 
 The mercury went up at noon 
 To nine-and-ninety in the shade, 
 I every hour grew more afraid 
 
 That doctor Fayrer right is 
 In hinting to my wife that those 
 Inflammatory symptoms rose 
 
 From latent Hepatitis. 
 I'll, ere another week goes by. 
 For my certificate apply. 
 
 And sail home invalided : 
 Since, if I press an early bier. 
 The deaths from Liver in the year. 
 Compared with those produced by Sun, 
 Will (fearful thought!) have then by one 
 
 Their ratio exceeded ! 
 
LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 1863 
 
THE Letters from Patna are reproduced with 
 some alterations, many omissions, and con- 
 siderable re-arrangement, from the Letters of a Com- 
 petition Wallah. The account of an Indian Civil- 
 ian's career was therefore written more than forty 
 years ago ; but, in its essential features, it holds good 
 to-day. Official incomes have altered for the worse; 
 but the work is still as interesting, the daily life as un- 
 hampered and rational, the administrative posts as 
 dignified and responsible, and the promotion to as 
 great a degree dependent upon merit as ever. Civil- 
 ians are still faithful stewards of India's resources ; 
 ardent promoters of her welfare ; and, (as frequently 
 as before,) true friends, and undaunted champions, of 
 the native population. A most delicate scrupulous- 
 ness against any employment of their official in- 
 fluence for private profit and advantage is the creed 
 and tradition of Anglo-Indian public men in the same 
 marked degree as of old. Many years ago the picture 
 drawn in the following pages attracted some of the 
 author's own contemporaries into a Service of which 
 they have been bright ornaments; and the main 
 outlines of that picture are true to the present hour. 
 The author is pretty generally believed, even by 
 
intimate friends who did not know him in early- 
 youth, to have belonged to the Indian Civil Service. 
 He had not that great honour. After leaving Col- 
 lege, he spent the year 1863 as unpaid Secretary to 
 his father, who was Financial Member of Council in 
 India, and he never was in that country before or 
 since. 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION 
 
 Feb. "jth, 1863. 
 
 Towards the end of last month I applied for, and 
 obtained, six weeks' leave, after passing in the 
 first of my two languages. I left Calcutta by 
 train, with the intention of living a week at Patna 
 with Major Ratcliffe, who is on special duty there, 
 and then passing the rest of my leave with my 
 cousin, Tom Goddard, at Mofussilpore. Ratcliffe is 
 a Bengal Club acquaintance, who gave me first a 
 general, and then a most particular, invitation to 
 stay with him up country. There is something 
 stupendous in the hospitality of India. It appears 
 to be the ordinary thing, five minutes after a first 
 introduction, for people to ask you to come and 
 spend a month with them. And yet there is a 
 general complaint that the old good-fellowship is 
 going out fast; and that there are so many Euro- 
 peans about of questionable position, and most un- 
 questionable breeding, that it is necessary to know 
 something of a man besides the colour of his skin 
 before admitting him into the bosom of a family. 
 
 There is something very interesting in a first rail- 
 way journey in Bengal. Never was I so impressed 
 
no LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 with the triumphs of progress, and the march of 
 mind. In fact, all the usual commonplaces genuinely- 
 filled my soul. Those two thin strips of iron, repre- 
 senting as they do the mightiest and the most fruit- 
 ful conquest of science, stretch hundreds and hun- 
 dreds of miles across the boundless Eastern plains ; 
 through the wild hills of Rajmahal, swarming with 
 savage beasts, and men more savage than they; 
 past Mussulman shrines, and Hindoo temples ; along 
 the bank of the great river that cannot be bridged, 
 whose crocodiles fatten on the corpses which super- 
 stition still supplies to them by hundreds daily. 
 Keep to the line, and you see everywhere the un- 
 mistakable signs of England's handiwork. There 
 are the colossal viaducts, spanning wide tracts of 
 pool and sandbank, which the first rains will convert 
 into vast torrents. There are the long rows of iron 
 sheds, with huge engines running in and out of 
 them with that indefiniteness of purpose which 
 seems to characterize locomotives all over the world. 
 There is the British station-master, grand but civil 
 on ordinary occasions, but bursting into excitement 
 and ferocity when things go wrong, or when his will 
 is disputed; and there is the refreshment-room, with 
 its half-crown dinner that practically always costs 
 five and ninepence. Stroll a hundred yards from 
 the embankment, and all symptoms of civilization 
 have vanished. You find yourself in the midst of 
 scenes that Arrian might have witnessed; among 
 manners unchanged by thousands of years, — un- 
 changeable, perhaps, by thousands more. The gay 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION iii 
 
 bullock-litter bearing to her wedding the bride of 
 four years old; the train of pilgrims, their turbans 
 and cummerbunds stained with pink, carrying back 
 the water of the sacred stream to their distant homes ; 
 the unkempt beggar, whom all the neighbourhood 
 revere as a Saint Simeon, — these are sights which 
 have very little in common with Didcot or Crewe 
 Junction. 
 
 A station on an Indian line affords much that is 
 amusing to a curious observer. Long before the 
 hour at which the train is expected, a dense crowd 
 of natives collects outside the glass doors, dressed 
 in their brightest colours, and in a wild state of ex- 
 citement. The Hindoos have taken most kindly to 
 railway travelling. It is a species of locomotion 
 which pre-eminently suits their lazy habits; and it 
 likewise appeals to their love of turning a penny. 
 To them every journey is a petty speculation. If 
 they can sell their goods at a distance for a price 
 which will cover the double fare, and leave a few pice 
 over, they infinitely prefer sitting still in a truck to 
 earning a much larger sum by manual labour. A 
 less estimable class of men of business, who are said 
 to make great use of the railway, are the dacoits, 
 who travel often sixty or seventy miles to commit 
 their villanies in order to escape the observation of 
 the police in their own district. Every native carries 
 a parcel of some sort or kind ; and it often happens 
 that a man brings a bundle so large that it cannot 
 be got in at the door. 
 
 At length the barrier is opened, and the passengers 
 
112 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 are admitted in small parties by a policeman, who 
 treats them, it must be admitted, with scanty courtesy. 
 When his turn comes to buy a ticket, your true 
 Hindoo generally attempts to make a bargain with 
 the clerk, but is very summarily snubbed by that 
 gentleman ; and, after an unsuccessful effort to con- 
 ceal a copper coin, he is shoved by a second police- 
 man on to the platform, where he and his companions 
 discuss the whole proceeding at great length and 
 with extraordinary warmth. The Bengalees almost 
 invariably travel third class. At one time a train used 
 to run consisting entirely of first and second-class 
 carriages. Every first-class passenger was entitled 
 to take two servants at third-class prices. It was no 
 uncommon thing for well-to-do natives to entreat 
 an English traveller to let them call themselves his 
 servants for the sake of the difference in the fares. 
 The wealthy Hindoos share the second-class with 
 the poorer Europeans ; for, in spite of the fraternity 
 and equality which exists in theory between the 
 subjects of our beloved Queen, our countrymen 
 manage to appropriate to themselves the first-class 
 carriages without any special regulation to that 
 effect. 
 
 Suddenly, in the rear of the crowd, without the 
 gates, there arises a great hubbub, amidst which, 
 from time to time, may be distinguished an imperi- 
 ous, sharp-cut voice, the owner of which appears to 
 show the most lordly indifference to the remarks 
 and answers made around him. A few moments 
 more, after some quarrelling and shoving about, the 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION 113 
 
 throng divides, and down the lane thus formed 
 stalks the Sahib of the period, in all the glory of an 
 old flannel shirt and trousers, a dirty alpaca coat, 
 no collar, no waistcoat, white canvas shoes, and a 
 vast pith helmet. Behind him comes his chief bearer, 
 with a cash-box, a loading-rod, two copies of the 
 Saturday Review of six months back, and three 
 bottles of soda-water. Then follows a long team of 
 coolies, carrying on their heads a huge quantity of 
 shabby and nondescript luggage, including at least 
 one gun-case and a vast shapeless parcel of bedding. 
 On the portmanteau you may still read, in very 
 faint white letters, "Calcutta. Cabin." The Sahib, 
 with the freedom and easy insolence of a mem- 
 ber of the Imperial race, walks straight into the 
 sacred inclosure of the clerk's office, and takes a 
 ticket, at five times the price paid by his native 
 brethren. Meanwhile, his bearer disposes the lug- 
 gage in a heap, rewards the coolies on a scale which 
 seems to give them profound discontent, and receives 
 a third-class ticket from his master's hand with every 
 mark of the most heartfelt gratitude. Thereupon, 
 if there happen to be another Sahib on the platform, 
 the two fall to talking on the extreme badness of the 
 road in the district which has been made by the 
 Supreme Government, as opposed to those con- 
 structed by the local authorities. 
 
 At length the train arrives. As the traffic is very 
 large, and there is only a single line, (though the 
 bridges and viaducts have been built for a double 
 line), the trains are necessarily composed of a great 
 
 I 
 
114 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 number of trucks. First, perhaps, come eight or ten 
 second-class carriages, full of pale panting English 
 soldiers in their shirt-sleeves. Then one first-class, 
 of which the coupe is occupied by a young couple 
 going to an appointment up country. They have 
 become acquainted during the balls and tiffins of 
 the cold season at Calcutta, and were married at the 
 end of it. Perhaps they may never see it again un- 
 til the bridegroom, who seems a likely young fellow, 
 is brought down from the Mofussil to be put into 
 the Secretariat. They have got a happy time before 
 them. India is a delightful region for the first few 
 years of married life. Lovers are left very much to 
 themselves, and are able to enjoy to the full that 
 charmingly selfish concentration of affection which 
 is sometimes a little out of place in general society. 
 When the eldest child must positively go home 
 before the next hot season, and ought to have gone 
 home before the last, — when aunts, and grand- 
 mothers, and schoolmistresses at Brighton, and 
 agents in London have to be corresponded with, — 
 then troubles begin to come thick. The next com- 
 partment is filled by a family party, — a languid, 
 bilious, mother; a sickly, kindly, indefatigable 
 nurse ; and three little ones sprawling on the cush- 
 ions in different stages of undress. In the netting 
 overhead are plentiful stores of bottles of milk, 
 bread and butter, and toys. Poor things ! What an 
 age a journey from Calcutta to Benares must seem 
 at four years old ! In the third compartment are two 
 Sahibs smoking, who have filled every corner of 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION 115 
 
 the carriage with their bags and trunks, the charge 
 for luggage in the van being preposterously high 
 out here. Our Sahib, who is too good-natured to 
 disturb the lovers, and who has no great fancy for 
 children as fellow-travellers through the dust and 
 glare of a journey in India, determines to take up 
 his quarters with the last-mentioned party. The 
 two gentlemen objectvery strongly to being crowded, 
 although there is full room for eight passengers; 
 but our Sahib is a determined man, and he soon 
 establishes himself, with all his belongings, as com- 
 fortably as circumstances will admit, and before 
 very long the trio have fraternized over Manilla 
 cheroots and the Indigo question. Behind the first- 
 class carriage come an interminable row of third- 
 class, packed to overflowing with natives in high 
 exhilaration, stripped to the waist, chattering, smok- 
 ing hubble-bubbles, chewing betel-nut, and en- 
 deavouring to curry favour with the guard, — for your 
 true native never loses an opportunity of conciliat- 
 ing a man in authority. Though there does not ap- 
 pear to be an inch of room available, the crowd of 
 new comers are pushed and heaved in by the station- 
 master and his subordinates, and left to settle down 
 by the force of gravity. In an incredibly short space 
 of time the platform is cleared ; the guard bawls out 
 something that might once have borne a dim resem- 
 blance to "all right behind;" the whistle sounds; 
 and the train moves on at the rate of twenty-five 
 miles an hour, including stoppages. 
 
 If one of the pleasures of travel be to find a pre- 
 
ii6 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 conceived notion entirely contradicted by the reality, 
 that pleasure I enjoyed to the full at Patna. It is a 
 city of nearly three hundred thousand inhabitants, 
 the capital of an immense province, one of the earliest 
 seats of Batavian commerce, and connected with the 
 history of our race by famous historical associations. 
 I expected to pass through a succession of lofty 
 streets of temples rich with fretwork, and of bazaars 
 blazing with the gorgeous fabrics of the Eastern 
 loom ; — in fact, through such a scene as I described in 
 my unsuccessful prize poem upon " Delhi." Some- 
 where in the centre of this mass of wealth and magni- 
 ficence I depicted to myself a square, or crescent, 
 of architecture less florid than elsewhere, but more 
 nearly approaching to European ideas of comfort. 
 This was to be the quarter appropriated to the Eng- 
 lish residents. Here were to be their shops and 
 factories, their Courts, their Offices, and the Churches 
 of their various persuasions. Such was the picture 
 which I had composed for my own delectation. Now 
 for the original. 
 
 We were due at Patna at 2 p.m., and, punctual to 
 the time, the engine slackened its pace. There were 
 no signs of a town to be seen ; nothing but a large 
 collection of mud huts standing in small untidy 
 gardens, and shaded by a great number of trees. 
 We arrived at the station, and I alighted, and col- 
 lected my things, — a course of conduct which ap- 
 peared to excite some surprise among the English 
 passengers, none of whom left the carriages. The na- 
 tives got out in herds, and the platform was instantly 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION 117 
 
 covered with a noisy multitude, who surged round 
 my baggage, which I had placed in front of me as 
 a species of breakwater. After some minutes the 
 train moved off, and the station-master came up and 
 demanded my ticket. I asked him whether I could 
 get a conveyance to take me to Major Ratcliffe's. 
 "No. There were no conveyances at the station." 
 Would he send some one to the nearest hotel to 
 order me a fly? "Quite impossible. The nearest 
 hotel was at Dinapore, twelve miles off." At length 
 the awful truth began to dawn upon my bewildered 
 intellect. Patna was the native town ; Bankipore, the 
 civil station, was six miles farther on ; and Dinapore, 
 the military station, six miles again beyond that. 
 The railway people were very civil, and procured a 
 couple of bullock-carts for my luggage. As it was 
 so early in the day, there was nothing for it but to 
 wait at least three hours before the sun was low 
 enough to allow me to venture on a six-mile walk; 
 and an Indian waiting-room is a perfect black-hole 
 of dreariness. I abandoned myself to my own re- 
 flections, which, as there was nothing around me on 
 which to reflect, soon became sufficiently dull; the 
 only point which actively occupied my mind being 
 the extreme helplessness of a stray European in 
 India. His way of life is so essentially different from 
 that of the native population that the country outside 
 the English stations might as well be desert for all 
 the accommodation it can afford him. He cannot eat 
 the ordinary native food, or sleep under a native roof. 
 The serais, or inns, are mere filthy sheds; and he 
 
ii8 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 might walk through miles of bazaar without seeing 
 an article which would add to his comfort. Fortu- 
 nately, no Englishman of decent habits and trust- 
 worthy character need long be an outcast in Bengal. 
 As soon as the evening approached I proceeded 
 on my way followed by two curious bullock-cars, so 
 contrived that by great skill it was possible to place 
 in them about one-fifth of the weight which the 
 animals could draw; and by three coolies, each con- 
 veyingwith apparent ease half again as much as both 
 the vehicles together. Our way lay at first through 
 groves of palms, and patches of poppy and various 
 sorts of lentil, interspersed with wretched mud huts, 
 at the doors of which numbers of children were 
 intently engaged in the only recreation indulged in 
 by the Hindoo infant, that of making dirt-pies. I 
 was much impressed by the portentous development 
 of stomach among the younger ones, and by their 
 dress, which consisted simply of a strip of red tape. 
 However, their wrists and ankles were covered with 
 silver ornaments; in consequence of which custom 
 the decoying and murdering of children is a common 
 crime. Along the gutters wandered the hideous foul 
 Indian pig. It is only necessary to watch the habits 
 of the animal for five minutes to understand why the 
 eaters of swine-flesh are held unclean throughout the 
 East. In this respect Englishmen have adopted what 
 is generally looked upon as an Oriental prejudice, 
 and no pork appears on a Calcutta table except such 
 as has been sty-fed by hands in which the host re- 
 poses the most perfect confidence. Add a few bul- 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION 119 
 
 locks sprawling in a roadside pool ; a few thin-legged 
 peasants half-dressed in a single garment of coarse 
 cotton, sitting on their haunches in an attitude which 
 can be imitated by no European who is not a pract- 
 ised athlete, sharing the alternate pipe, or cleaning 
 their teeth with a bit of stick, the end of which they 
 have previously chewed into a brush; a few slim 
 mysterious poles of about twelve feet high, orna- 
 mented with bits of coloured rag; a few pariah dogs, 
 and not a few smells ; and you will have a very fair 
 notion of a village in Bahar. 
 
 After a time we got into the main line of bazaar, 
 which extends from the farther extremity of the city 
 of Patna to the English station of Bankipore. An 
 Indian bazaar is a narrow street of one-storied hovels, 
 each with a small veranda, of which the floor is 
 raised about two feet above the level of the road. 
 The fronts are generally of wood, carved in tawdry 
 patterns. The proprietor of the shop sits in the 
 veranda surrounded by his stock-in-trade, which 
 consists of a dozen bags of various sorts of grain ; 
 or as many baskets of sweetmeats, made of sugar 
 and rancid butter; or three or four pounds' worth 
 of silver anklets and charms ; or a few piles of 
 coloured handkerchiefs of the coarsest English 
 manufacture. There is very little difference between 
 the appearance of the town and country populations, 
 and an utter absence of the picturesque costumes 
 which, in the markets of Cairo and Alexandria, al- 
 most realize our ideas of the Bagdad of Haroun 
 Alraschid. 
 
I20 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 There were already some ten minutes of daylight 
 left when I arrived on a scene which amply repaid 
 me for the dust and discomfort of the preceding hour 
 and a half. On the left of the road lay an expanse 
 of turf of some thirty acres, encircled by a race- 
 course, an institution without which our countrymen 
 seem unable to support existence in India. Sur- 
 rounding the plain stood the residences of the 
 officials, each in its own enclosure of from three to 
 ten acres of lawn and garden. There is a strong 
 family likeness between all European houses in 
 the Mofussil. A one-storied building, covered with 
 plaster of dazzling whiteness, relieved by bright 
 green blinds, is surrounded on all sides by a broad 
 veranda. Two lofty spacious sitting-rooms, with 
 so wide an opening between that they almost form 
 one hall, extend through the centre of the house from 
 front to back, while either end is occupied by bed- 
 rooms, each with a bath-room attached. The servants 
 sleep in sheds scattered about the compound ; and 
 the cooking is carried on in an outhouse, which 
 gentlemen who are particular about their eating 
 sometimes connect with the dining-room by a 
 covered passage. The Sahib, generally speaking, has 
 a sanctum of his own, where a confusion reignswhich 
 surpasses anything which could be found in a Lin- 
 coln's Inn garret, or the chamber in an English 
 country-house appropriated to the son and heir. The 
 walls are ornamented with mouldering antlers and 
 dusty skulls of boar and tiger, the trophies of unmar- 
 ried days ; a map of the district, a ground-plan of 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION 121 
 
 the station, a picture of Rugby Close in 1843, and a 
 print of Lord Canning, cut out from the " Illustrated 
 London News," marked with the generic sulkiness 
 which characterises the portraits in that remarkable 
 periodical. The furniture consists of a table over- 
 flowing with papers and pamphlets, which constantly 
 encroach on the small corner reserved for an ink-stand 
 and blotting-pad, in spite of a species of temporary 
 dam formed by a dispatch-box and two bags of 
 wadding; a dressing-tablewithveryplain appliances ; 
 a camp-bed, so light as to allow of its being placed 
 at will within range of the punkah; half a dozen 
 cane chairs, and a vast leather couch, where the 
 Sahib spends the half hour after his early morning 
 walk, alternately dipping into the "Englishman," 
 and sharing his tea and buttered toast with a favourite 
 terrier. In one corner stand two splendid smooth- 
 bores, stamped with the name of Westley Richards, 
 and a double-barrelled rifle by the same hands; a 
 long native gun, studded with glass beads, the 
 muzzle shaped into a dragon's mouth; a couple of 
 hog spears, a heavy hunting-crop, and two driving- 
 whips; and the ancient family Joe Manton solemnly 
 presented to the young writer by his anxious parent 
 the day before he left the East India Docks in the 
 Lord Minto, 1,200 tons, some fifteen years since. 
 The other three corners are heaped with a chaos of 
 Salt-reports, Minutes, blue-books, Codes and trans- 
 lations of Codes, and letters of every size and age, 
 filed and unfiled, tied up with string, whipcord, 
 boot-laces, or the frail, foul, execrable red-tape of 
 
122 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 India, which has done more to break the hearts 
 and health of English-bred Governors-General and 
 Financiers than the mists of the Hooghley or the 
 stenches of the Black Town. 
 
 By a careful inspection of the furniture and knick- 
 nacks in the drawing-room, a close observer may be 
 able to name with confidence the three years which 
 his host passed at home on furlough. In one house 
 there is a prevailing sense of the Great Exhibition of 
 1 85 1. Everywhere you see those ideal views of the 
 interior of the building, drawn by anticipation, and 
 so unlike, and inferior to, the beautiful reality ; filled 
 by crowds of Turks and Albanians, Highlanders 
 and Esquimaux, with here and there an individual 
 in the hat and coat of modern civilization directing 
 the attention of a female on his arm by pointing his 
 stick at some interesting object in mid-air. On the 
 table lie some Great Exhibition tokens. Till I came 
 out here I never could conceive who bought those 
 most futile and meaningless articles of commerce. 
 In the book-shelves stands a long row of volumes 
 of the Illustrated Catalogue, blazing with blue and 
 gold. In other families, pictures of Solferino and 
 the entry into Milan, maps of Sicily, and portraits 
 of Cavour and Garibaldi, testify that the furlough 
 of your host coincided with the struggle for Italian 
 Unity. There is something touching in these memo- 
 rials; for they remind one that, however devoted 
 our countryman may be to the interests of the race 
 which is entrusted to his charge, the objects dearest 
 to his inmost heart lie far away, beyond the glaciers 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION 123 
 
 of the Hindoo Koosh and the seething waves of the 
 Red Sea. 
 
 On my right hand a smaller open space, likewise 
 covered with grass, ran some way back from the 
 road. On one side stood a church, as pretty as any- 
 thing can be which is coated with yellow plaster, 
 surrounded by a portico formed by means of grace- 
 ful flying buttresses; on the other a row of low bar- 
 racks, swarmingwith native policemen in bright blue 
 tunics and scarlet turbans. At the end farthest from 
 the road was the Collector's office, or Cutcherry, en- 
 circled by a rude fortification thrown up in the crisis 
 of 1857. I was much interested in this, the first evi- 
 dence I had met with of the great Mutiny. A mere 
 ditch and mound overgrown with prickly pear, a 
 man could walk over it without changing step. And 
 yet it was behind such slender defences as this that 
 in more than one isolated station a dozen or two of 
 our people stood at bay for months before many 
 times their number of infuriated enemies, disciplined 
 by English skill, and armed from English arsenals. 
 In those dreadful days this was the refuge for the 
 Europeans from every one of the six or seven dis- 
 tricts in the Patna division : from every one except 
 Arrah, where eight or ten Civilians and railway of- 
 ficials, with a handful of stout Punjabees, were de- 
 fending a billiard-room against the levee-en-masse 
 of a province, supported by three strong regiments 
 of regular infantry. 
 
 In the course of the next week I acquired a higher 
 notion of Patna. Ratcliffe drove me in on two dif- 
 
124 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 ferent occasions, and we spent one long day in pok- 
 ing about the town, and another in the opium factory, 
 which is second only in importance to that of Ben- 
 ares. There is a mile or two of very singular archi- 
 tecture. The Mahommedans live here in great num- 
 bers; andeverythingbelongingtothemispicturesque 
 alltheworldover. WevisitedaMahommedan found- 
 ation, something between a college and a monastery, 
 which boasted a good deal of rather faded magni- 
 ficence. It is very richly endowed, and the loaves 
 and fishes are kept strictly among the founder's kin. 
 The head of the family for the time being is ipso 
 facto President, and he had apparently distributed 
 the college offices with great impartiality among his 
 brothers. We were led through a long series of 
 quadrangles built of white stone, with the shrine of 
 some devotee of ancient days standing in the centreof 
 each, on the brink of a pretty little ornamental tank. 
 Some of the courts were used as hospitia for pilgrims, 
 others as schools for the younger members of the 
 institution, and others again as Combination-rooms 
 and studies for the Fellows. As all Mahommedans 
 are strict teetotallers, it is hard to imagine how they 
 spend their time in the Combination-room. At length 
 we came to a large pile of buildings, on the roof of 
 which we mounted, and found ourselves at the door 
 of a chapel, in which sat the Master of the College. 
 I was informed, whether correctly or not, that from 
 the time that he succeeds to the office he may never 
 descend to the level of the earth, so that, if a set of 
 reforming young Fellows gotafooting in the society, 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION 125 
 
 they might introduce all sorts of innovations with 
 impunity, as long as they kept to the ground-floor. 
 The old fellow was very civil, — so much so, that I 
 felt half inclined to give him some advice about 
 throwing open his scholarships, but was deterred 
 by my imperfect acquaintance with the language. 
 
 From the Collegewe passed on to a more common- 
 place, but more useful institution, the Govern- 
 ment School. The buildings appropriated for the 
 purpose are, in most instances, beggarly enough ; 
 but the class of scholars, and the character of the 
 instruction given, place them far above the level of 
 government schools in England. We had the curios- 
 ity to question a Form of some two dozen boys on 
 the profession and standing of their respective 
 fathers. Half of them were the sons of public em- 
 ployes, and full a fourth of Zemindars, who answer in 
 social position to the French ' ' Rentier. " Every here 
 and there sat, glittering in gold and jewellery, the 
 child of a Rajah who counts his income by lacs. 
 The little fellows are sometimes very pretty and in- 
 telligent, and are always dressed with great taste in 
 very brilliant colours, for the natives are much ad- 
 dicted to petting their young children. It is now a 
 trite observation that, up to a certain time of life, the 
 Hindoo boys show greater cleverness and capacity 
 than Europeans of the same age. James Mill ob- 
 serves that "they display marvellous precocity in 
 appreciatingametaphysical proposition which would 
 hopelessly puzzle an English lad." This is high 
 praise as coming from the father and preceptor of 
 
126 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 John Stuart. Their turn for mathematics is truly 
 wonderful. A distinguished Cambridge wrangler 
 assured me that the youths of eighteen and twenty, 
 whom he was engaged in teaching, rushed through 
 the course of subjects at such a headlong speed that, 
 if they went on at the same rate, they would be in 
 "Lunar Theory" by the end of six months. But 
 it is allowed with equal unanimity that, at the period 
 when the mind of young Englishmen is in full course 
 of development, the Hindoo appears to have already 
 arrived at maturity. It is often said that a liberal 
 education is valued only as a stepping stone to 
 Government employ; — that, as in everything else, 
 the natives look upon it merely as a question of 
 rupees. But this is very unfairly put. As well might 
 you throw it in the teeth of the parents of all the boys 
 at Harrow and Marlborough that they sent their sons 
 to a public school in order to enable them to get their 
 living in the liberal professions. A very respectable 
 proportion of the Government scholars come from 
 the homes of independent and opulent men, and 
 would never dream of looking to official life for their 
 maintenance. And, after all, why is it worse for a 
 native gentleman to send his child to school, to 
 qualify him for the office of a Treasurer or Deputy 
 Judge, than for an English gentleman to engage a 
 crammer to turn his son into awalking encyclopaedia 
 against the next competitive examination? But the 
 habit of sneering at our dark fellow-subjects is so 
 confirmed in some people that they lose sightof sense 
 and logic whenever the subject is introduced. 
 
AN UP COUNTRY STATION 127 
 
 The headmaster asked RatcHffe to examine the 
 first class, which consisted of twelve or fifteen boys 
 of about the same age and height as the sixth form 
 at a public school. The class was engaged on " The 
 Deserted Village." Each scholar read a few lines, 
 and then gave a paraphrase of them in the most 
 classical English. I sat aghast at the flowery com- 
 bination of epithets which came so naturally to their 
 lips; not knowing at the time that the natives who 
 have been brought up at the Government schools, 
 having learnt our language from Addison and Gold- 
 smith, use, on all occasions, the literary English of 
 the last century. They talk as Dr. Johnson is sup- 
 posed to have talked by people who have never 
 read Boswell. The passage before us was that be- 
 ginning, 
 
 " III fares the land to hastening ills a prey — " 
 
 an excellent sample of that mild conventional senti- 
 mental Conservatism which to so many minds is the 
 constituent idea of poetry, and which appeals to 
 man in his maudlin moments throughout all ages 
 and in every clime. There was something exquisitely 
 absurd in hearing a parcel of young Bengalees re- 
 gretting the time when every rood of ground in 
 England maintained its man, and indignantly apos- 
 trophizing trade's unfeeling train for usurping the 
 land and dispossessing the swain. And yet, was it 
 more truly incongruous than the notion of English 
 boys in the latter half of the nineteenth century up- 
 braiding the descendants of Romulus with their 
 
128 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 degeneracy and luxury ; calling on them to fling into 
 the nearest sea their gems and gold, the materials of 
 evil ; and complaining that few acres are now left for 
 the plough? — though, if that implement resembled 
 the one described by Virgil in the first Georgic, it 
 is, perhaps, as well that the field of its operations was 
 limited. Ratcliffe created a general agitation by ask- 
 ing whether commerce was really and truly a curse 
 to a country. These young Baboos, destined, many 
 of them, to pass their lives in the sharpest mercantile 
 practice, seemed to consider any doubt on the subject 
 as perfect heresy; until one of them, who expressed 
 himself in a manner more nervous and less ornate 
 than his fellows, solved the difficulty by stating that 
 " the poets often told lies." On the whole, the facility 
 with which they used a tongue which they never 
 hear spoken, except in school, was very creditable 
 to the system. 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 
 
 Feh. i-jth, 1862. 
 
 Before leaving Patna I ran over to Arrah, and 
 spent an evening and morning in visiting the 
 scene of the most complete episode of the great 
 troubles. The Collector entertained me very hos- 
 pitably, and I passed the night in "The House " in 
 a more unbroken repose than others of my country- 
 men have enjoyed in the same room. I was rather 
 ashamed of having slept so well. The place is of 
 extraordinary interest to an Englishman ; and all the 
 associations are concentrated within a small, well- 
 defined locality, which vastly increases the interest 
 which they excite. The compounds of the European 
 houses at Arrah are very extensive ; and the most 
 extensive of all is that in which stands the residence 
 of the Collector. It is, as far as I can judge from 
 recollection, four hundred yards long by three hun- 
 dred broad. It is bounded in most parts by a crumb- 
 ling ditch and the remains of a hedge of prickly pear. 
 The Collector's house is large and commodious, with 
 spacious and very lofty rooms; one-storied, like all 
 dwellings in the Mofussil, but with the floor raised 
 several feet above the level of the ground. On one 
 
 K 
 
I30 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 side of the house is a portico; exactly forty yards 
 from which stands a small whitewashed building, the 
 basement of which consists of cellars, with open 
 arches some four or five feet in height. A staircase in 
 the interior leads to a single room, surrounded on 
 three sides by a veranda. The dead wall faces the 
 Collector's garden, which is thirty or forty yards off. 
 It was formerly a billiard-room, and is now used for 
 the accommodation of visitors when the great bunga- 
 low happens to be full. The house-top is reached by 
 a ladder, and is surrounded by a parapet; but it is 
 entirely commanded by the roof of the neighbouring 
 building, from which the porch stands out like a 
 bastion. 
 
 Arrah lies twelve miles from the Ganges, and at a 
 distance of nearly 20 miles from Dinapore, which, 
 (as will be remembered,) is the military cantonment 
 of Patna. In the summer of 1857 there were stationed 
 at Dinapore three regiments of native infantry, — a 
 force of at least twenty-live hundred bayonets. The 
 composition of this brigade was such as to give grave 
 cause for alarm. The men were all drawn from the 
 notorious turbulent district of Shahabad, of which 
 Arrah is the official capital, and were united by the 
 bond of an undefined allegiance to Coer Sing, who 
 was recognized as chieftain by the Rajpoots, or 
 soldier caste, of that region. There is a strong family 
 feeling in the native mind. Your head-servant fills 
 your house with young barbarians from his own 
 village, whom he brings up to Calcutta to try their 
 luck in service. As soon as a Government employe 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 131 
 
 is in receipt of a good income, relations and con- 
 nections pour in from all parts of India, and claim 
 to live at his expense. In the same manner the old 
 sepoys introducedinto their Companysons, nephews, 
 and younger brothers; while any recruit who did 
 not belong to the tribe was made almost as uncom- 
 fortable as a cockney in a crack Light Cavalry mess, 
 and soon found it expedient to ask leave to change 
 his quarters. The result was that the regiment had 
 a tendency to turn into a clan, the members of which 
 regarded each other with attachment and confidence, 
 and carried out their common resolves with singular 
 unanimity and secrecy. 
 
 The state of things at Dinapore excited profound 
 uneasiness. For weeks previous to the catastrophe, 
 letters appeared in the Calcutta daily papers urging 
 the authorities to take measures to prevent an out- 
 br-eke, which was regarded as now imminent. Un- 
 happily, the Brigadier in command at the station was 
 one of that class known at the Horse-Guards as 
 experienced officers of long standing in the service, 
 and by the world in general as old women. It is our 
 misfortune that the commencement of every war finds 
 our choicest troops, and our most precious strong- 
 holds, at the disposal of men who won their first 
 laurels at Salamanca or Quatre Bras, and who should 
 have been content to have closed their career at 
 Sobraon. Such a chief, to the cost of humanity, was 
 in charge of Meerut on that day of evil omen, the 
 first of many such, when the troopers of the Third 
 Light Cavalry, having shot down their officers and 
 
132 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 burnt their barracks, galloped off unmolested to cut 
 the throats of the English at Delhi. Such a chief 
 was not in charge of Barrackpore at the crisis when 
 foresight, calmness, and judicious severity broke up 
 a battalion of murderous scoundrels, and saved the 
 capital of India from the fate of Cawnpore. Hearsey 
 at Meerut, Neill at Dinapore, and Outram at Allaha- 
 bad, might have saved much of the good blood that 
 was spilled, and much of the bad blood that remains. 
 
 Throughout July the insolence of the sepoys in 
 the Dinapore cantonments, and the terror and dis- 
 comfort of the European residents, waxed greater 
 daily. At length the symptoms of sedition grew so 
 unmistakable as to attract the notice of General 
 Lloyd himself. Accordingly, on the morning of the 
 25th, he issued an order enjoining the sepoys to 
 return their percussion-caps at four o'clock that 
 afternoon. This gave them just nine hours to pack 
 up their clothes, ammunition, and wives, cook their 
 rice, get a wash, and march out of the station at their 
 ease, in the direction of the Sone river. When they 
 had gone a mile or two on their way, a few round 
 shots were sent after them, as a parting compliment; 
 and then the General had plenty of leisure to sit 
 down, and reflect on the probable result of his mas- 
 terly combinations. 
 
 Meanwhile the little community at Arrah did not 
 regard with indifference the prospect of an event 
 which caused so much apprehension at Calcutta. 
 Those long July days could hardly have been to 
 them a period of secure enjoyment. It was much if 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 133 
 
 they could put force on themselves to get through 
 their ordinary business. The women and children 
 were sent to what, in those awful times, was con- 
 sidered a place of comparative security. Whatever 
 might chance, at any rate, when the peril did come, 
 the men should have to make provision for nothing 
 that could be dearer than honour and duty. At that 
 time the portion of the East Indian Railway in the 
 neighbourhood was in course of construction, — the 
 embankment having been already thrown up, though 
 the bridges were not yet completed. Mr. Boyle, the 
 Executive Engineer of the company, who was resid- 
 ent at the station, happened to have a natural turn 
 for fortification, which he subsequently, in the course 
 of the war, had ample opportunity to gratify. This 
 gentleman took it into his head to put what is now 
 the Collector's outhouse in a state for defence, 
 thinking that it might come in useful on an emerg- 
 ency. From time to time he sent in some bricks and 
 mortar, and a few odd coolies, and devoted a spare 
 hour or two to superintend the work. The arches 
 of the cellars were solidly built up, and a thin curtain 
 of brickwork erected between each pillar in the 
 veranda on the first floor, with a judicious arrange- 
 ment of loopholes. 
 
 On Saturday, the 25th of July, Mr. Wake, the 
 Collector, received an express from Dinapore, bid- 
 ding him to be on his guard, for that something 
 was in the air. There followed a night of suspense, 
 which was changed into terrible certainty by the 
 arrival of a mounted patrol, who came in with the 
 
134 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 information that a strong force of sepoys had crossed 
 the Sone, at a point about four leagues to the east- 
 ward of Arrah, and that large numbers were still 
 crossing. Then it became too evident that "some 
 one had blundered." The moment had come when 
 aresolution must be taken, — hurried, but irrevocable. 
 A few hours more, and the enemy would be upon 
 them, the country-people in arms, the roads im- 
 passable, and the bridges broken up for thirty miles 
 round. While their communications were still open, 
 should they retreat on Buxar, and wait there till 
 they could be brought back to their posts by the 
 returning tide of European re-conquest? It was too 
 late to avert the destruction of their property ; too 
 late to keep the town to its allegiance, and save the 
 treasure and the public records. There was nothing 
 which they could stow behind their slender defences 
 save and except the empty name of British rule. 
 Was it worth while to run so frightful a risk for a 
 shadow? Why, for an advantage so doubtful, expose 
 theirdearonestoanxiety worse than death, to bereave- 
 ment and desertion at such a time and in such a 
 plight? On the other hand, should they skulk off 
 like outlaws through the province which had been 
 entrusted to their care, where but yesterday their 
 will was law, leaving the district ready to receive the 
 rebels with open arms, and afford them a firm foot- 
 hold on the south of the Ganges, — another Oude, 
 whence they might securely direct their future efforts 
 against our power, which already tottered to the 
 fall? If the rest of Shahabad must go, the authority 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 135 
 
 of old England and of John Company, the most 
 generous of masters, should be upheld at least 
 within the walls of one billiard-room, which was to 
 witness such a game as never did billiard-room yet; 
 a game at hopeless odds, amateurs opposed to pro- 
 fessionals, fair play to knavery ; a game where his- 
 tory stood by as marker, and where no starring 
 could recover a life once taken ; a game which one 
 losing hazard would undo, one cannon almost in- 
 evitably ruin ; but which Wake and his fellows, as 
 with clear eyes, brave hearts, and steady hands, they 
 awaited the opening stroke, were fully determined 
 should not be a love game. 
 
 There was no time to be lost. Rice and flour 
 sufficing for a few days' consumption, and what other 
 provisions came first to hand, were quickly stored 
 in the house. The supply of water, which could be 
 collected on such short notice, was alarmingly 
 scanty. And then they made haste to enter their 
 ark, before the flood of sedition and anarchy should 
 engulph everything around. The garrison consisted 
 of Herwald Wake, the Collector; young Colvin, 
 and two other Civilians; Boyle, the engineer, the 
 Vauban of the siege; Mr. Hall, a civil surgeon; 
 an official in the opium agency, and his assistant; a 
 Government schoolmaster; two native public em- 
 ployes, and five other Europeans in various sub- 
 ordinate grades ; forty-five privates, two Naiks, two 
 Havildars, and one Jemmadar, — names which so 
 painfully bewilder an English reader of the list of 
 killed and wounded in the Gazette after an Indian 
 
136 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 victory. They were true Sikhs all, staunch as steel, 
 and worthy to be the countrymen of our foes at 
 Chilianwallah. Six-and-sixty fighting men by tale, 
 with no lack of pluck and powder, but very badly off 
 for meat and drink. 
 
 On Monday morning the sepoys poured into the 
 town, and marched straight to the Treasury, from 
 which they took eighty-five thousand rupees in cash. 
 After this indispensable preliminary, they proceeded 
 to carry out the next step in the programme usual 
 on these occasions, — the slaughter of every one con- 
 nected with the Government. It was very thought- 
 ful of the Sahibs to have collected in one place, so 
 as to spare Jack Sepoy the trouble of hunting them 
 down in detail. It was best, however, to do the job 
 in style; so a strong detachment was formed in 
 column, and marched into the compound with drums 
 beating and colours flying. It would give the men 
 a good appetite for their curry to knock on the head 
 the dozen or so of quill-drivers and railway people 
 in the hole where they had taken refuge; and, if 
 those unlucky Punjabees could not see on which 
 side their chupatties were buttered, why, it should 
 be the worse for them ! But through every loophole 
 in the brickwork on the first floor peered an angry 
 Englishman, feeling at the trigger of his bone- 
 crushing rifle, behind which he had stood the charge 
 of many a tiger and buffalo, — unless, indeed, he was 
 one of the school of sportsmen who prefer a smooth- 
 bore for anything under eighty yards ; while in the 
 cellars below, and beneath the breastwork on the 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 137 
 
 roof, lurked half a hundred warriors of that valiant 
 sect whom no other native army could look in the 
 face. Just as the leading ranks were passing a fine 
 tree, which grows a stone-throw from the house, 
 they received a volley which laid eighteen of their 
 number prostrate on the spot. As this madeitevident 
 that the Sahibs intended to die game, the mutineers, 
 who had come out for a battue, and not on a storm- 
 ing party, broke their ranks, and dispersed behind 
 the trees scattered about the compound, whence 
 they kept up a desultory fire. 
 
 For long past Coer Sing had been watching the 
 course of events with keen interest and a very definite 
 purpose. This remarkable man came in for an abun- 
 dant share of the abuse so indiscriminately dealt out 
 to all who took part against us at that crisis. Coer 
 Sing was described in the contemporary journals as 
 a "devil," whose villainy could be accounted for 
 only on the theory that he was not " of human flesh 
 and blood." The time for shrieking and scolding 
 has now gone by, and we can afford to own that he 
 was not a devil at all, but the high-souled chief of a 
 warlike tribe, who had been reduced to a nonentity 
 by the yoke of a foreign invader. " What am I good 
 for under your dynasty ? " was his constant com- 
 plaint to European visitors. He had already reached 
 an age which in England is supposed to incapacitate 
 for any employment short of the premiership. He 
 well remembered the time when Scindiah and Hol- 
 kar were not mere puppets of the Government of 
 Fort William; when the Mahratta still ruled at 
 
138 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 Pqonah and Nagpore; when, what with Pindaree 
 raids, and the long contest for the Helen of Odipore, 
 and the extremely bellicose attitude of non-inter- 
 ference adopted by the Company, a dashing partisan 
 leader, with a few thousand stout Rajpoots at his 
 back, was good for a great deal in the estimation of 
 Central India. He fretted, like the proud Highland 
 chiefs when reduced to insignificance by the severe 
 and orderly sway of the Southron. Surely, a people 
 whose favourite heroes are Lochiel and Rob Roy 
 Macgregor may spare a little sympathy for the 
 chieftain who, at eighty years old, bade fill up his 
 brass lotah, saddle his elephants, and call out his 
 men, inasmuch as it was up with the turbans of 
 Coer Sing; who inflicted on us a disaster most 
 complete and tragical ; who exacted from the unruly 
 mutineers an obedience which they paid to none 
 other; who led his force in person to Lucknow, and 
 took a leading part in the struggle which decided 
 the destinies of India; who, after no hope was left 
 for the cause North of Ganges, did not lose heart, 
 but kept his men together during a long and ardu- 
 ous retreat in the face of a victorious enemy ; and, 
 as the closing act of his life, by a masterly manoeuvre 
 baffled his pursuers, and placed his troops in safety 
 on their own side of the great river, when friend 
 and foe alike believed their destruction to be inevit- 
 able ! On that occasion a round-shot from an Eng- 
 lish gun smashed his arm, as he was directing the 
 passage of the last boatfuls of his followers, contrary 
 to the habit of Eastern generals, who ordinarily 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 139 
 
 shun the post of danger. The old warrior, seeing 
 that his hour was come, is said to have cut off his 
 shattered limb with the hand that remained to him, 
 and to have died of the flow of blood which ensued. 
 But his army had not lost the impress of his skill 
 and energy. During several months they main- 
 tained themselves at Juggdeespore, harassing with 
 daily incursions the English garrisons in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; they repulsed with heavy loss a detach- 
 ment sent to dislodge them ; and finally laid down 
 their arms under the general amnesty, after having 
 defied our Government during more than a year of 
 continuous fighting. Two facts may be deduced from 
 the story of these operations ; first, that the besiegers 
 of the house at Arrah were neither cowards nor 
 bunglers ; and next, that it was uncommonly lucky 
 for us that Coer Sing was not forty years younger. 
 Such, then, was the man who now claimed to 
 take commandof the levies of Shahabad by hereditary 
 right. He brought with him a mighty following, 
 and recruits poured in by hundreds and thousands 
 daily. The sepoy veterans, who were living on pen- 
 sions in their native villages, came forward to share 
 the fortunes of their ancient regiments in greater 
 number than in other districts. "That old fool, 
 Coer Sing," was reported in the Calcutta papers 
 to have held a review of eight thousand armed men, 
 besides the three regular battalions. There was one 
 cry throughout the province, — that now or never was 
 the time to shake off the oppression of the stranger. 
 When once they had put to the sword the Sahibs in 
 
I40 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 the billiard room, all would go well. But the Sahibs 
 in question manifested a very decided disinclination 
 to be put to the sword, so that it became necessary 
 to put the sword to the Sahibs. The siege was 
 pressed forward with vigour. Bullets rained on the 
 defences day and night alike. The sepoys bawled 
 out to our Sikhs that, if they would betray the Sa- 
 hibs, they should receive a safe-conduct and five 
 hundred rupees apiece. The Sikhs, in return, re- 
 quested them to come nearer and repeat their liberal 
 offers, — a compliance with which invitation resulted 
 in the unfortunate agents of Coer Sing finding that, 
 when they approached within ear-shot, they were 
 within musket-shot as well. 
 
 Meanwhile, the most painful solicitude, which 
 was fast deepening into despair, prevailed at Dina- 
 pore and Calcutta, and wherever else the tidings of 
 the great peril of our countrymen had penetrated. 
 The first intelligence received at the capital was con- 
 veyed in a letter which appeared in the " English- 
 man, " dated the 27th of July, containing these words : 
 " Mr. Boyle and the magistrate sent me a message 
 to find a safe place. The Arrah people proposed to 
 defend Mr. Boyle's fortification. If they have done 
 so, I hope for the best, but dread the worst. What 
 can a handful of Englishmen do with hundreds of 
 lawless soldiers?" A correspondent writes on the 
 29th: " We have no news as to the English cooped 
 up in Mr. Boyle's fortification, whether they are in 
 existence or not." And again: "God knows what 
 the fate of the unfortunate people at Arrah has been." 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 141 
 
 Towards the middle of the week it was determined 
 at Dinapore to make an effort to raise the siege. An 
 expedition started, consisting of nearly three hun- 
 dred and fifty men of the 37th Queen's regiment, 
 sixty Sikhs, and some young civilians who volun- 
 teered to accompany the party. Unfortunately, Cap- 
 tain Dunbar, the officer appointed to the command, 
 was quite unfit for such a duty, his military experi- 
 ence having been gained in a Paymaster's bureau. 
 The force was put on board a steamer, and sent up 
 the Ganges. It was the height of the rainy season, 
 and much of the country was under water. Accord- 
 ingly, on arriving nearly opposite Arrah, the troops 
 left the steamer, and embarked in some large boats, 
 in which they followed the course of a nullah which 
 brought them some miles nearer their point. By the 
 time they were landed, evening had already closed 
 in. The officers present, who knew something of 
 night service, importuned their leader to bivouac on 
 a bridge at some distance from Arrah, to give the 
 soldiers their rum and biscuit, with a few hours' 
 sleep, and then march in at daybreak. They urged 
 on him the extreme danger of taking a small party 
 of tired men in the dark through an unknown region 
 swarming with foes who were thoroughly prepared 
 for their reception. The answer was: "No. They 
 expect us at Arrah, and I shall not think of halting 
 till we get there." This was a reason which it was 
 hard for Englishmen to gainsay. So the order was 
 given to move on, and the men threw their firelocks 
 over their shoulders, and set off on the march, the 
 
142 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 Sikhs formingtheadvance-guard. Almost incredible 
 to relate, Captain Dunbar had not sufficient foresight 
 to throw out flankers. It never seems to have oc- 
 curred to him that a march at midnight through 
 three miles of bazaar and mud-wall, grove and gar- 
 den, to the relief of a place beleaguered by ten thous- 
 and armed men, had need to be conducted with any 
 greater caution than a change of quarters from Cal- 
 cutta to Dum Dum. 
 
 A short league from the Arrah Collectorate, on 
 the right hand of a man travelling towards the town, 
 stands a large Hindoo temple, in grounds of its 
 own. Just before reaching this point, the way, 
 which has hitherto passed through open fields of 
 rice and poppy, runs for some three hundred yards 
 between belts of trees about fifty feet in width. The 
 road lies along an embankment raised considerably 
 above the level of the surrounding country. The 
 Sikhs had already passed, and the straggling array 
 of English soldiers were plodding along the defile, 
 half asleep, with weary legs and empty stomachs, 
 when the darkness of the grove on either side was 
 lit up as by magic, and a crashing fire poured into 
 their ranks. Exposed on the top of the causeway, 
 their bodies standing out against what dim starlight 
 there was, they afforded an easy mark to their in- 
 visible enemies, who swarmed in the gloom below. 
 During the first minutes many were struck down ; 
 and at that short range there were few wounds 
 which did not bring death. Then, by a sort of in- 
 stinct, the men deserted the road, and collected in 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 143 
 
 groups wherever they could find cover. One large 
 party took refuge in a dry tank, beneath the banks 
 of which they loaded and discharged their pieces at 
 random, as long as their ammunition lasted; while 
 the flashes of their musketry enabled the sepoys to 
 direct their aim with deadly accuracy. Another 
 party occupied the temple, and throughout the night 
 there went on constant skirmishing round the walls 
 and in the inclosure of the garden. If the soldiers 
 had been got together in one place, and made to 
 lie down quietly in their ranks till the morning, they 
 were still quite strong enough to perform the service 
 on which they had been dispatched. In spite of 
 their heavy losses, they were quite as numerous as 
 the force which eventually succeeded in relieving 
 Arrah. But there was no one there of the temper of 
 Nicholson or Hodson ; no one who at such a moment 
 dared to step forward, and usurp authority in the 
 name of the common safety. Split up into small 
 sections, without orders from their superiors ; ignor- 
 ant alike of the fate of their comrades, the nature of 
 the surrounding localities, and the number and 
 position of their assailants ; wasting their strength 
 and powder in objectless firing, than which nothing 
 is more sure to demoralize troops under any circum- 
 stances, — in such case our countrymen awaited 
 the dawn of day. 
 
 Then, after a short consultation, the officers who 
 survived got the men into some sort of order, and 
 commenced a retreat upon the boats. But by this 
 time the enemy, flushed with success, and increasing 
 
144 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 every minute in strength, redoubled their efforts to 
 complete the ruin of our force. In front, in rear, and 
 on either flank hung clouds of sepoys, who kept up 
 a withering discharge on the thin line of dispirited, 
 exhausted Englishmen. At first our soldiers replied 
 as best they could; but soon every one began to 
 think of providing for his own safety. Our fire 
 slackened, ceased; the pace quickened; the ranks 
 became unsteady ; and finally the whole array broke, 
 and fled for dear life along the road in the direction 
 of the nullah. 
 
 Then came the scenes which have ever marked 
 the rout of a company of civilized men by barbarian 
 foes. Some of the fugitives were shot down as they 
 ran. Others, disabled by wounds or fatigue, were 
 overtaken and slain. Others again, who sought pre- 
 servation by leaving the line of flight, were mobbed 
 and knocked on the head by the peasants of the 
 neighbouring villages. More than one unfortunate 
 European, who, after having been pursued for miles, 
 took to the water like a tired stag, was beaten to 
 death with bludgeons from the brink of the pond in 
 which he had taken refuge. All who remained on 
 the ground in the vicinity of the temple, whether 
 dead or alive, were hung on the trees which fringed 
 the road. The Sikhs that day proved that they were 
 still animated by the same spirit which had formerly 
 extorted the respect of their conquerors in many a 
 fierce and dubious battle in the open field. Setting 
 shoulder to shoulder, they fought their way to the 
 boats in unbroken order, and found that in such a 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 145 
 
 strait the most honourable course is likewise the 
 safest. Ross Mangles, a young Civilian, whose 
 father was Chairman of the Court of Directors dur- 
 ing that trying year, bore himself gallantly amidst 
 the universal panic. He had joined the expedition 
 purely out of love for Herwald Wake, and in the 
 surprise of the preceding evening had been stunned 
 by a bullet-wound on the forehead. His command- 
 ing appearance and cheery air now won the con- 
 fidence of those immediately round him, and he 
 succeeded in keeping together a small knot of men 
 who supplied him with a succession of loaded rifles. 
 As he was a noted shikaree, a dead hand at bear and 
 antelope, the sepoys thought proper to keep their 
 distance. Meantime he carried a wounded soldier 
 on his back for six miles, laying him down tenderly 
 from time to time when the enemy came too close 
 to be pleasant. With a few score fellows of his own 
 mettle at his side, Ross would have shaken his 
 friend by the hand before night closed in, though 
 Coer Sing stood in the way with all the mutineers 
 in Bahar. The men of his term at Haileybury will 
 long point with pride to the V.C. that follows his 
 name in the list of the Bengal Civil Service. 
 
 On reaching the banks of the nullah, the soldiers, 
 who had now lost presence of mind, self-respect, 
 subordination, everything but the unbridled desire 
 for safety, flung themselves into the water, and 
 swam and waded to the boats, into which they 
 crowded with all the unseemly hurry of an over- 
 powering terror. As they struggled with the current, 
 
 L 
 
146 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 floundered in the mud, and scrambled over the gun- 
 wales, the sepoys plied them with shot at pistol- 
 range, directing their especial attention to a barge 
 which was prevented from effecting its escape by a 
 rope twisted round the rudder. The men inside 
 crouched at the bottom of the boat, not daring to 
 show their heads above the bulwarks as a mark for 
 a hundred muskets. Nothing could have averted 
 the capture and destruction of the whole party, had 
 not a young volunteer, Macdonell by name, climbed 
 out over the stern, and unfastened the rope amidst 
 a hail of bullets; an action which gave another 
 Victoria Cross to the Civil Service. 
 
 And now all was over; and the survivors, bring- 
 ing home nothing but their bare lives, returned in 
 mournful guise, full of sad forebodings about the 
 brave men whom they were forced to abandon to 
 their fate. The people at Dinapore, when the steamer 
 came in sight, as they strained their eyes to catch 
 some indication of the result of the expedition, saw 
 the deck covered with prostrate forms; and the 
 dejection expressed by the air and attitude of those 
 on board convinced them at once that all was not 
 well. Of four hundred men who went forth, only 
 half returned. The others were lying, stripped and 
 mangled, along those two fatal leagues of road. 
 Captain Dunbar, in the Pagan phrase ordinarily 
 used on such occasions, atoned for his obstinacy 
 with his life. When the news of this reverse reached 
 Calcutta, there were none so sanguine as to retain any 
 hope of deliverance for the little garrison at Arrah. 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 147 
 
 The opinion which prevailed in Calcutta certainly 
 coincided with that of Coer Sing and his army. 
 Throughout the night none of the defenders of the 
 house had slept. They listened with sickening 
 anxiety to the noise of the firing, now beguiling them- 
 selves into the idea that it was drawing nearer; now 
 desponding, as it remained ever stationary; and 
 again comforting each other with the theory that 
 their countrymen had taken up a strong position in 
 the suburbs, and would advance to their relief at 
 break of day. Alas ! they little knew what that day 
 would bring forth. When morning came, and when 
 the reports of the musketry grew fainter and fainter, 
 till they died away in the distance, their hearts sank 
 within them. They were not long left in suspense; 
 for the besiegers had no intention of keeping such 
 good news to themselves, and they were speedily 
 informed that the force from Dinapore had been cut 
 to pieces, and that their last hope was gone. Yet 
 not the last — for they still had the hope of dying 
 sword in hand, instead of being tamely murdered 
 like all who had hitherto put trust in the word of 
 their treacherous and unforgiving Eastern foe. That 
 foe now offered the whole party their lives, if they 
 would give up Wake and Syed Azmoodeen Khan, 
 the Deputy-Collector, a native for whom the Sahib 
 of Sahibs, Lord William Bentinck, had entertained 
 a great regard. This proposal having been rejected, 
 nothing more was said about conditions of surrender, 
 and both sides applied themselves to the serious 
 business of the siege. 
 
148 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 The enemy had fished out from some corner two 
 cannon, — a four-pounder, and a two-pounder, — the 
 smaller of which they placed at the angle of the 
 bungalow facing the little house, while they hoisted 
 the larger on to the roof. They adopted the plan of 
 loading the gun behind the parapet, and then run- 
 ning it on to the top of the portico, and wheeling out 
 an arm-chair fitted with a shot-proof screen of boards, 
 on which sat a man who aimed and discharged the 
 piece. It was then drawn back with ropes to be 
 sponged out and recharged. This method of work- 
 ing artillery would perhaps be considered somewhat 
 primitive at Shoeburyness or Woolwich ; but, when 
 it was employed against a billiard-room, at a range 
 of forty yards, the result might justly be described 
 as 2ifeu d'enfer. For some time the besieged fully 
 expected that their walls would come tumbling down 
 about their ears ; but they soon took heart of grace, 
 and set themselves manfully to repair the damage 
 caused by breaching-battery No. i. Fortunately 
 the store of cannon-balls was soon exhausted. The 
 enemy eked it out by firing away the castors of Mr. 
 Boyle's piano, of which the supply, however, was 
 necessarily limited. Meanwhile, the sepoys had 
 lined the garden wall, which at that time ran within 
 twenty yards of the rear of the house. From this 
 position their picked marksmen directed their shots 
 at the loopholes, while from the trees around, from 
 the ditch of the compound, from the doors and win- 
 dows of the bungalow, an incessant fire was main- 
 tained throughout the twenty-four hours. If Mr. 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 149 
 
 Boyle's fortification, like Jericho, could have been 
 brought to the ground by noise, it would certainly 
 not have stood long. The mutineers, in imitation 
 of the besiegers of Mansoul, in Bunyan's "Holy 
 War," seemed determined to try all the senses round, 
 and to enter at Nose-gate if they were repulsed at 
 Ear-gate. Poor Mr. Wake, who provided the ma- 
 terial both for the attack and the defence, had placed 
 his horses in an inclosure under the walls of the 
 outhouse. These were now shot by the sepoys ; and 
 the Indian sun speedily produced effects which gave 
 more annoyance to the garrison than the cannonade 
 from the porch. But the contents of every knacker's 
 cart in London might have been shot out under the 
 veranda, without weakening the determination to 
 resist to the last. Some ingenious natives set fire to 
 a large heap of the raw material of red pepper on the 
 windward quarter, with the view of smoking out the 
 Sahibs. But a lot of genuine Qui-hyes, with their 
 palates case-hardened by many pungent curries, 
 were not likely to be frightened at a bonfire of chilies. 
 Since the first day, the mutineers fought shy of any 
 attempt to carry the place by storm : and not with- 
 out reason : for, as a reserve to their trusty rifles, 
 each Sahib had his fowling-piece, with a charge of 
 number four shot, for close quarters, lying snugly in 
 the left-hand barrel. Then they had hog-spears, and 
 knew how to use them. The charge of a forty-inch 
 boar, rising well in his spring, was at least as for- 
 midable as the rush of a sepoy. They had revolvers, 
 too, with a life in every chamber, — the weapon that 
 
I50 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 is the very type of armed civilisation. On the whole, 
 the besiegers were not far wrong in regarding an 
 attack by open force as a resource to be adopted 
 only when all other devices had failed. 
 
 Meanwhile the temper of the people inside was as 
 true as the metal of their gun-locks. Englishmen 
 are always inclined to look at the bright side of 
 things, as long as there is a bright side at which to 
 look; and the English spirit was well represented 
 here. Young Colvin was especially cheerful himself, 
 and the cause that cheerfulness was in other men. 
 The whole party accommodated their habits to their 
 circumstances with great good-humour. The Sikhs 
 occupied the cellarage. The Sahibs lived and slept 
 in the single room on the first floor, and took their 
 meals sitting on the stairs above and below the 
 landing-place, on which the cloth was laid. On the 
 wall above the hearth. Wake wrote a journal of the 
 events of each day, in full expectation that no other 
 record would be left of what had taken place within 
 those devoted walls. One morning the Jemmadar 
 reported that the water with which his men had 
 provided themselves had all been drunk out. The 
 Europeans offered to supply them out of their own 
 store: but one Sikh obstinately refused to touch the 
 same water as the Sahibs. He stoutly affirmed that 
 he had rather die of thirst than give in to such a 
 scandalous piece of latitudinarianism. It was not a 
 time to disregard the whims and prejudices of any 
 among the gallant fellows whom neither fear nor 
 lucre could tempt to be false to their salt. So Natives 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 151 
 
 and English together set to work to dig a well in one 
 of the vaults, and within twelve hours they had 
 thrown out eighteen feet of earth by four, a depth 
 at which they found abundance of water. At the 
 end of the week close observation convinced them 
 that the sepoys were engaged in running a mine 
 towards the back of the house. This justly gave 
 them greater alarm than any other machination of 
 the enemy. But necessity is the mother of counter- 
 mines; and these amateur sappers soon made them- 
 selves as secure against the new peril that threatened 
 them as their scanty means would admit. 
 
 And so they staved off destruction another day, 
 and yet another. But a far more terrible foe than 
 Coer Sing now broke ground before the defences. 
 The house had been provisioned for a week, and a 
 week had already passed. Neither rifle, nor spear, 
 nor British courage, nor Native fidelity, would avail 
 aught, when the rice and the flour had all been 
 eaten. At Arrah, as at other Indian stations where 
 the residents know good meat from indifferent, there 
 was an institution called a mutton-club, the sheep 
 belonging to which were feeding about the com- 
 pound under the hungry eyes of their owners. But 
 no one could show himself for a second outside the 
 walls and live. It might be a hundred, it might be 
 a hundred and fifty hours, (for who could say before- 
 hand how long human pluck and patience, when 
 put to the test, could endure the last extreme of 
 privation?) but the dread moment was steadily draw- 
 ing on, when death must come by famine or by the 
 
152 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 bullets of the enemy. In no direction could they 
 discern a gleam of light. The only force that was 
 near enough, and strong enough, to march to the 
 rescue had been routed and disorganized. The Eng- 
 lish troops at Buxar were a mere handful, not 
 numerous enough to guarantee the safety of the 
 station. The days of miracles had gone by, and it 
 seemed that nothing short of a miracle could deliver 
 them. Unless it should come to pass that the angel 
 of the Lord should go forth by night and smite the 
 camp of the besiegers, they felt that this world, with 
 its joys and troubles, would be all over for them ere 
 but a few suns had set. 
 
 The English troops at Buxar certainly were a 
 mere handful ; but there was a man there who was 
 neither a novice nor a pedant, neither a young 
 soldier nor an old woman. Wherever hard knocks 
 had been going within the last twenty years, — and 
 during that period there was no lack, — Vincent Eyre 
 had generally managed to come in for a liberal 
 allowance. In the Afghan war, the roughest of 
 schools, he had learnt to preserve an equal mind in 
 arduous circumstances. When the intelligence of 
 the outbreak, travelling with the proverbial speed 
 of bad news, reached the station of Buxar, Eyre at 
 once made up his mind to march, without waiting 
 to hear whether an expedition had started from Dina- 
 pore. Perhaps he was unwilling to leave the fate of 
 the garrison entirely dependent on the energy and 
 promptness of General Lloyd. Perhaps he thought 
 that a good thing like the relief of Arrah would 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 153 
 
 bear doing twice over. His force consisted of a 
 hundred and fifty-four English bayonets, twelve 
 mounted volunteers, and three field-pieces, with 
 their complement of artillerymen. The distance to 
 be traversed was fifty miles as the crow flies ; and, 
 as the waters were out over the face of the country, 
 and the population was in a state of open hostility, 
 the march proved long and formidable. On the way. 
 Eyre received tidings of the reverse sustained by 
 Dunbar's detachment. It seemed foolhardy indeed 
 to advance to the attack of an enemy who had just 
 cut in pieces a force twice as strong as his own. 
 But, according to his view of the matter, this con- 
 sideration did not in any wise affect the result of his 
 reasoning. His axiom was that Arrah must be 
 relieved. There was no one else now left to do the 
 business ; so of necessity it fell to him. He had not 
 many soldiers, and would be glad to have more. He 
 did not share the sentiment of King Henry at Agin- 
 court. He would have been delighted to see at his 
 back a thousand or two of those men at Aldershot 
 who did no work that day. But, as he had only a 
 few, he must perform the work with those few. So 
 on he went, nothing doubting. 
 
 On the night of Sunday, the 2nd of August, our 
 force bivouacked at Googerajgunge. In the morn- 
 ing the enemy put in an appearance, and the march 
 was one constant skirmish as far as Bebeegunge, 
 where the road crosses a deep nullah. The bridge 
 had been destroyed; and Eyre had nothing for it 
 but to direct his course towards the railway embank- 
 
154 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 ment, along which he hoped to force his way to 
 Arrah. This route, however, was barred by a wood, 
 in and about which was drawn up Coer Sing's whole 
 force, — two thousand five hundred mutineers, and 
 the posse comitatus of the province, estimated at 
 eight thousand men. The rebels, whom their recent 
 success had inspired with unwonted confidence, did 
 not wait to be attacked. The sepoy bugles sounded 
 the "Assembly," then the "Advance," and finally 
 the " Double; " and their battalions, in columns of 
 companies, charged our guns in front, but were 
 driven back several times with great slaughter. Then 
 they tried a surer game, and endeavoured to crush 
 our line with a heavy point-blank musketry fire. 
 "And now," said Major Eyre, " we had as much on 
 our own hands as we could manage." Large num- 
 bers of the enemy stole round under cover of the 
 trees, and raked our whole array from either flank. 
 The men began to fall fast; and, in an army of nine 
 or ten score combatants, men cannot fall fast for 
 many minutes together withoutserious consequences. 
 Our troops began to be disheartened, and to be 
 painfully aware of the overwhelming odds against 
 which they were contending. It was trying work 
 receiving twenty bullets for every one they fired. 
 At such a moment the man of sterling stuff feels 
 that things cannot go well, unless he personally 
 exerts himself to the utmost. It is this state of mind 
 that wins football matches, and boat-races, and 
 battles. Now or never, was the word. The order 
 was given, and our officers ran forward, sword in 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 155 
 
 hand, towards the point where the enemy stood 
 thickest, with the men shouting at their heels. This 
 appeared to the sepoys a most unaccountable pro- 
 ceeding; but they were not ignorant of the great 
 military truth that when two hostile parties find 
 themselves on the same ground one or the other 
 must leave it; and, as our people kept coming 
 nearer and nearer with the expression on their faces 
 which the Sahibs always wearwhen they don't intend 
 to turn back, they had no choice but to run for it. 
 That charge saved Arrah. When once natives have 
 given way, it is almost impossibletobring them again 
 to the scratch. Coer Sing retreated, leaving on the 
 ground six hundred of his followers, most of whom 
 had been killed in the attack upon the battery; and 
 our poor little force, which he had expected to devour 
 at a single mouthful, gathered together the wounded, 
 limbered up the guns, and with lightened hearts 
 pressed forward on its mission of deliverance. 
 
 When the garrison looked out of their loopholes 
 at dawn, on the 3rd August, they were surprised at 
 seeing none of the besiegers stirring in the neigh- 
 bourhood. As they were not the men to wait tamely 
 for what might befall them without doing something 
 to help themselves, they sallied forth, and took this 
 opportunity to get some fresh air and replenish their 
 larder. After a hard chase about the compound, 
 they succeeded in capturing four sheep, which they 
 brought back into the house amidst great rejoicing, 
 together with one of the enemy's cannon. Presently 
 the boom of guns was heard in the distance, and 
 
156 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 excited a strange hope which, but just now, they 
 expected never again to experience. Towards even- 
 ing the beaten rebels poured into the town in dire 
 confusion. They stayed only to collect their plunder, 
 and marched off, bag and baggage, never more to 
 visit Arrah, with the exception of a few who returned 
 from time to time in order to be executed on the 
 scene of their misdeeds. On the morning of Tues- 
 day, the 4th of August, there was not a sepoy within 
 miles of the station. And then our countrymen came 
 forth, unwashed, unshaved, begrimed with dust 
 and powder, haggard with anxiety and want of sleep, 
 but very joyous and thankful at heart: pleased to 
 stand once more beneath the open sky, and to roam 
 fearlessly through their old haunts, in which the 
 twittering of birds and the chirping of grasshoppers 
 had succeeded to the ceaseless din of musketry; 
 pleased with the first long draught of sherry and 
 soda-water, and with the cool breath of dawn after 
 the atmosphere of a vault, without window or 
 punkah, filled to suffocation with the smoke of their 
 rifles. 
 
 There are moments when an oppressive sense of 
 Nineteenth Century weighs heavy on the soul. There 
 are moments when we feel that locomotives and 
 power-looms are not everything; when it is good to 
 turn from the perusal of the share-list, — from pensive 
 reflections on the steadiness of piece-goods, the lan- 
 guor of gunny-cloths, and the want of animation 
 evinced by mule-twist, — to the contemplation of 
 qualities which are recognized and valued by all ages 
 
THE SIEGE OF ARRAH 157 
 
 alike. It is good to know that trade, and luxury, and 
 the march of science, have not unnerved our wrists, 
 and dulled our eyes, and turned our blood to water. 
 There is much in common between Leonidas dress- 
 ing his hair before he went forth to his last fight, and 
 Colvin laughing overhisrice and saltwhilethebuUets 
 pattered on the wall like hail. Still, as in the days 
 of old Homer, "Cowards gain neither honour nor 
 safety; but men who respect themselves and each 
 other for the most part go through the battle un- 
 harmed." Still, as in Londonderry of old, the real 
 strength of a besieged place consists not in the 
 scientific construction of the defences, nor in the 
 multitude of the garrison, nor in abundant stores of 
 provisions and ordnance, but in the spirit which is 
 prepared to dare all, and endure all, sooner than 
 allow the assailants to set foot within the wall. 
 Though but six years have passed away, the associa- 
 tions of the events which I have related begin to 
 grow dim. So changeable are the elements of Anglo- 
 Indian society that not one of the defenders of the 
 fortification is now resident at the station. Already 
 the wall, on which Wake wrote the diary of the 
 siege, has been whitewashed; and the inclosure, 
 where the dead horses lay through those August 
 days, has been destroyed; and a party-wall has 
 been built over the mouth of the well in the cellars; 
 and the garden-fence, which served the mutineers 
 as a first parallel, has been moved twenty yards 
 back. Half a century more, and every vestige of 
 the struggle may have been swept away. But, as 
 
158 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 long as Englishmen love to hear of fidelity, and con- 
 stancy, and courage bearing up the day against 
 frightful odds, there is no fear lest they forget the 
 name of " the little house at Arrah." 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 
 
 March, 1862. 
 
 I HAVE lately witnessed some phases of life in 
 India which have little in common with Calcutta 
 grandeur and civilisation. To begin with the travel- 
 ling, I spent sixteen hours on the four hundred 
 miles between the capital and Patna, and eighteen 
 hours on the forty miles between Patna and 
 Mofussilpore. I started late in the evening in the 
 time-honoured palanquin. My suite comprised six- 
 teen bearers, two men with torches, and four porters 
 carrying my baggage. At five o'clock next afternoon 
 we had still an hour's journey before us ; so that I 
 sent on the bearers and the baggage, and walked 
 into the station alone. 
 
 It was nearly dark when I arrived at the Collector- 
 ate, where my cousin Tom welcomed me warmly, 
 if the idea of warmth can be connected with any- 
 thing pleasant in such a climate as this. There was 
 a large dinner-party in the evening, and every guest 
 on his arrival was duly acquainted with my having 
 performed the last four miles of my journey on foot. 
 It was very amusing to observe the incredulity with 
 which this statement was received by some, and the 
 
i6o LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 hilarity which it excited in others. One or two old 
 Indians were seriously put out at such a piece of en- 
 thusiastic folly ; and a young Assistant-magistrate, 
 who had won the mile race at Eton, and who, in 
 the long vacation before he came out, had discovered 
 three passes in Switzerland, talked of my "super- 
 abundant energy "with the languid pity of an Oriental 
 voluptuary. From the moment when he is cheated 
 in the purchase of his first buggy by a third-hand 
 dealer in Calcutta, to the time when, amidst an 
 escort of irregular cavalry, he dashes through won- 
 dering villages in all the state of a Lieutenant- 
 Governor, your true civil servant never goes a-foot 
 on the high-road for a hundred yards together. And 
 this does not proceed from indolence or effeminacy: 
 for a Mofussil official, on the most dim rumour of 
 bear or tiger, will carry his gun for days over ground 
 that would heartily disgust an English sportsman. 
 But horses and grooms and fodder are so cheap out 
 here, and the standard of incomes so high, that no 
 one need walk except for pleasure ; and the pleasure 
 of walking in Bengal is, to say the very least, 
 equivocal. Everybody I have met in these parts has 
 at least three animals in his stable ; and no one who 
 meditates a journey feels any delicacy about asking 
 for the loan of as many as he requires from the 
 factories and stations bordering on his route. Mo- 
 fussil horses behave in a most fiendish manner at 
 starting; but, when once well off, they complete 
 their stage with laudable zeal and propriety. Some 
 are incorrigible planters, and consider it essential to 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE i6i 
 
 their dignity to stand perfectly still for ten minutes 
 after they have been put between the shafts. Others 
 jib violently, and back into the ditch at the road- 
 side, while a cascade of gun-cases slides over the 
 rear of the dog-cart, and a stream of Collectors 
 pours out in front. In other cases the owner holds 
 the animal's head high in the air, to prevent him 
 from kicking the vehicle to pieces; and, when the 
 harness has been adjusted, sends him off at a gallop, 
 and jumps up behind as best he may. 
 
 It so happened that the Rajah of Futtehgunge, 
 which lies somewhere in the outskirts of this dis- 
 trict, called at Mofussilpore on his way back from 
 the Durbar, held by the Viceroy at Agra. He had 
 invited all the English residents to a grand enter- 
 tainment at his camp, which was to take place the 
 evening after my arrival. We left the CoUectorate 
 at nine at night, and drove to the tents, which were 
 nearly half a mile off, between hedges of blazing 
 lights, in three rows, one above another. The Rajah 
 received us at the entrance of the pavilion; and, 
 after mutual compliments, we seated ourselves on a 
 row of arm-chairs on either side of the great man. 
 The scene was very picturesque. The tent, which 
 was of immense extent, open at the sides, was 
 thronged with guards and retainers in the most 
 gorgeous costumes, studded with gems which glit- 
 tered and twinkled in the fitful flaring torchlight. 
 In the darkness outside thronged the whole popula- 
 tion of the neighbourhood. The centre was spread 
 with a broad rich carpet, on which were seated the 
 
 M 
 
i62 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 performers. First came a nautch, which afforded a 
 striking example of the profound dissimilarity in 
 taste between Asiatics and Europeans. I have wit- 
 nessed the exhibition of Mr. Woodin ; I have seen 
 Charles Kean enact the lover in a sentimental 
 comedy; I have a horrible dream of having sat 
 through the explanation of the comic dissolving 
 views at the Polytechnic Institution ; but, though a 
 being of melancholy experiences, I could not have 
 believed in the existence of an entertainment so 
 extravagantly dull as a nautch. A young lady not 
 remarkable for her charms, dressed in a very splendid 
 robe which was several inches too long for her, 
 came forward a few paces, stumbling over her skirts, 
 and commenced a recitation in a singular and 
 monotonous key, accompanied by three musical in- 
 struments of barbaric fashion. She sang the praises 
 of Tom Goddard, his early promise, his beauty, his 
 high birth. She related how he excelled all his com- 
 panions in manly exercises, and how the Moonshees, 
 who conducted his education, foretold his future 
 greatness. (The fact is, that he was a very poor 
 hand at cricket, and that the Principal of Haileybury 
 threatened him with expulsion at the end of every 
 term.) Then she described how the deities of the 
 sea made smooth the waves around the prow of the 
 ship which bore him across the black water. (He 
 was unable once to leave his cabin between South- 
 ampton and Alexandria.) How, when he sat upon 
 the bench of judgement, all wondered at the pre- 
 cocious wisdom of the youthful sage, and how the 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 163 
 
 rulers of the land vied to do him honour, and dis- 
 puted with each other the possession of so bright a 
 jewel. (He began his public career in the North- 
 west, under a Magistrate who reversed three-fourths 
 of his decisions, and made it a personal favour that 
 he should be removed to Bahar, where he turned 
 over a new leaf.) She then spoke of the condition of 
 the province over which he now extended his foster- 
 ing care. She told us that the period of his govern- 
 ment was the golden age of the district; that force 
 and fraud were unknown throughout the borders; 
 that the planter did not grind the ryot, nor the ryot 
 write libels on the planter; that the fields were white 
 with poppies, and that grain had fallen three seers 
 in the rupee; that fuller vats foamed with bluer 
 indigo, and more vigilant policemen watched over 
 emptier jails. At this point of the eulogium, Tom, 
 who had only the day before committed twenty-three 
 dacoits, blushed visibly, — a performance to which I 
 had thought him unequal. All this while, two 
 stunted girls had been coming forward at intervals 
 of some minutes, who, after waving their arms in 
 time to the music, turned short round and ran back 
 to their places. Meantime, another woman, with a 
 sword between her teeth and bells on her fingers, 
 was throwing about her head and hands in most un- 
 graceful contortions. And this is the famous nautch, 
 on which natives of the highest class gaze in rapture 
 for three, four, six hours together ! 
 
 To the nautch succeeded the drolleries of a com- 
 pany of comedians, ten or twelve in number. The 
 
i64 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 Rajah had prudently given them a hint to be 
 careful, feeling that even greater reverence is due 
 to Collectors than to boys. The affair, in conse- 
 quence, was irreproachably proper, but exceedingly 
 childish and absurd. We were roused from the pro- 
 found depression, into which we had been thrown by 
 this specimen of Eastern humour, by a summons 
 from our host to take supper previously to witness- 
 ing a display of fireworks. A magnificent banquet 
 was laid out in an adjoining tent. We each sipped 
 a glass of wine, and, declining any more solid re- 
 freshment, proceeded to mount a sort of Grand Stand, 
 which had been erected for our accommodation. 
 The dullness of the nautch certainly had not com- 
 municated itself to the fireworks. Rockets, wheels, 
 flowerpots, fountains, Bahar lights, Roman candles, 
 were fizzing and blazing in every direction. There 
 was no attempt at effect or grouping. Men rushed 
 about with torches, lighting anything that stood 
 most convenient. Within twenty minutes a good 
 two hundred pounds' worth of gunpowder must 
 have flashed away into the illimitable. The whole 
 entertainment could not have cost the Rajah less 
 than four thousand rupees. But all the world within 
 a hundred miles around will hear that the Futteh- 
 gunge man has induced the Sahibs of Mofussilpore 
 to be present at a "tumasha"; and the Rajah of 
 Doodiah will not know a moment's peace until he 
 has achieved the same honour.^ 
 
 ^ A "tumasha" is anything special in the way of amuse- 
 ment, — a feast, a ball, or a play. The term has a magical 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 165 
 
 Next day the servants of the Rajah came with the 
 intimation that the great man would pay us a visit 
 in the course of the morning. They brought Tom 
 a "dolly," which is the name given to the only de- 
 scription of present that Government Servants are 
 permitted to accept. A dolly consists of trays of 
 provisions, the number of which is regulated by the 
 rank of the person to whom the compliment is paid. 
 Thus, a Lieutenant-Governor gets fifty trays ; while 
 I, as a hanger-on of Tom's, came in for a little dolly 
 of ten. The size of the offering, however, is of no 
 consequence at all, as the only article that an 
 Englishman ever dreams of touching is the box of 
 Cabul grapes, of which each dolly, great or small, 
 contains one, and only one. The huge unsightly 
 fish from the tanks, the heaps of greasy sweetmeats, 
 and the piles of nondescript fruit and vegetables, are 
 appropriated by your servants, who continue in a 
 state of dyspepsia during the whole of the next 
 week. 
 
 Towards noon the Rajah came with a following 
 of eighteen or twenty cavaliers, mounted on raw- 
 boned horses daubed with paint according to the 
 taste of their riders, and about two score guards on 
 foot, armed with halberts, sabres, and blunderbusses. 
 A government less powerful than our own might 
 object to the troops of armed ragamuffins who live 
 
 effect upon the native mind. A scientific friend of mine pre- 
 vailed upon his bearer to submit, proudly and gladly, to an 
 ag-onizing series of electric shocks under the assurance that 
 the proceeding vifas a " tumasha." 
 
i66 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 at the expense of the great noblemen of these parts. 
 But it is well understood that all his state is merely 
 maintained with a view to keep up their position in 
 the eyes of their own countrymen. The Rajah's 
 conversation was a curious compound of solemnity 
 and simplicity. He told us a little about the Dur- 
 bar, and we told him a little about the Great Exhibi- 
 tion of 1862. He spoke of the approaching mar- 
 riage of the Prince of Wales, and expressed his 
 surprise at that ceremony having been deferred till 
 the bridegroom was twice the age at which he 
 himself had taken his first wife. He informed us 
 that a report prevailed in Bahar to the effect that the 
 Muscovites, assisted by the King of Roum, were 
 on the point of sailing up the Persian Gulf to the 
 rescue of Brigadier Jefferson Lincoln. My cousin 
 advised him to have his son vaccinated, and in re- 
 turn he made a wild attempt to get his assessment 
 lowered. Tom pretended to mistake his meaning, 
 and answered that the Government was inclined to 
 regard with favour the Zemindars who promoted the 
 cause of popular education by example and pecun- 
 iary assistance. Upon this the Rajah, who found 
 the conversation growing unprofitable, took his 
 leave, and drove away amidst a salute from all the 
 fire-arms in his train which were capable of going 
 off on so short a notice. 
 
 The Indian Civil Service is undoubedly a very 
 fine career. Here is Tom Goddard, in his thirty-first 
 year, in charge of a population as numerous as that 
 of England in the reign of Elizabeth. His Burghley 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 167 
 
 is a Joint Magistrate of eight-and-twenty, and his 
 Walsinghaman Assistant-Magistrate who took his 
 degree at Christ Church within the last fifteen 
 months. These, with two or three Superintendents 
 of PoHce, — and last, but by no means least, a Judge, 
 who in rank and amount of salary, stands to Tom 
 in the position which the Lord Chancellor holds to 
 the Prime Minister, — are the only English officials 
 in a province a hundred and twenty miles by seventy. 
 The Collector and Magistrate is the chief executive 
 and fiscal authority in the District to which he is at- 
 tached. His freedom of action is controlled by none 
 but the Commissioner, who presides over a Division 
 of five or six Districts; whose immediate superior is 
 the "Lord Sahib" or Lieutenant-Governor, who is 
 inferior only to the "Burra Lord Sahib " or Viceroy, 
 who owns no master save the Secretary of State at 
 Whitehall, — for whom the natives have not as yet 
 invented a title, and of whom they know very little, 
 unless they happen to be in the service of a planter, 
 in which case they have heard Sir Charles Wood 
 anathematized by their employer whenever the ryots, 
 who grow the indigo, display any symptom of self- 
 respect and independence.' 
 
 ' Sir Charles Wood was Lord Palmerston's Secretary of 
 State for India. The late Lord Northbrook, — who himself had 
 been Governor-General, and who had sat in the Cabinet, — 
 "put Sir Charles Wood much above any one whom he had 
 seen at work as administrator." His wisdom and patience, his 
 unbounded belief in humane and just principles of government, 
 his boldness of initiative and persistence in execution, carried 
 India safely and successfully through the critical period of 
 
i68 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 Work in India is so diversified as to be always 
 interesting. During the cold season, the Collector 
 travels about his district, pitching his camp for a 
 night at one place, and for three days at another; 
 while at the larger towns he may find sufficient 
 business to occupy him for a week. Tent-life in the 
 winter months is very enjoyable, especially to a man 
 who has his heart in his duties. It is pleasant, after 
 having spent the forenoon in examining schools and 
 inspecting infirmaries, and quarrelling about the 
 sites of bridges with the Superintending Engineer 
 in the Public Works Department, to take a light 
 tiffin, and start off with your gun and your Assistant- 
 Magistrate on a roundabout ride to the next camp- 
 ing-ground. It is pleasant to dismount at a likely 
 piece of grass, and, flushing a bouncing black part- 
 ridge, to wipe the eye of your subordinate ; and then 
 to miss a hare, which your bearer knocks over with 
 a stick, pretending to find the marks of your shot in 
 its fore-quarter. It is pleasant, as you reach the 
 rendezvous in the gloaming, rather tired and very 
 dusty, to find your tents pitched, and your soup and 
 curry within a few minutes of perfection, and your 
 kitmudgar with a bottle of lemonade, just drawn 
 from its cool bed of saltpetre, and the head man of 
 
 transition from the rule of the Company to the rule of the Crown. 
 Sir Charles was right royally attacked in the Anglo-Indian 
 Press ; but he accepted abuse with the amused indifference 
 which characterized the old Whigs. At sixty years of age, and 
 well on to seventy, he would have minded a blank day with the 
 hounds in Yorkshire more than all the leading articles in the 
 Calcutta papers, or the London papers either. 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 169 
 
 the village ready with his report of a deadly affray 
 that would have taken place if you had come in a day 
 later. Is not this better than the heart-sickness of 
 briefs deferred ; the dreary chambers, and the hate- 
 ful lobby; the hopeless struggle against the sons of 
 attorneys and the nephews of railway-directors ; the 
 petition to be put into one of the law offices, that 
 you may eat a piece of bread? Is it not better than 
 grinding year after year at the school-mill, teach- 
 ing the young idea how to turn good English 
 verses into bad Latin ; stopping the allowances, and 
 paring down the journey-money, and crowding as 
 many particles into an iambic line as the metre will 
 bear? Is it not better than hanging wearily on at 
 college ; feeling your early triumphs turn to bitter- 
 ness; doubting whether to class yourself with the 
 old or the young ; seeing around you an ever-chang- 
 ing succession of lads, who, as fast as they grow to 
 be friends and companions to you, pass away into 
 the world, and are no more seen? 
 
 During ten months in the year the Collector re- 
 sides at the station. The Government does not pro- 
 vide its servants with house-room ; but they seldom 
 experience any inconvenience in finding suitable 
 accommodation, for the native landlords make a 
 point of reserving for every official the residence 
 which had been occupied by his predecessor. No 
 advance in terms will tempt them to let the Judge's 
 bungalow to any but the Judge, or to turn the Joint 
 Sahib out of the dwelling which has been appro- 
 priated to Joint Sahibs ever since that class of 
 
I70 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 functionaries came into being. They charge a very 
 moderate rent, which includes the cost of gardeners 
 and sweepers for the use of the tenant. This is an 
 effect of the passion for conferring obligations upon 
 men in authority which exists in the mind of every 
 Hindoo. The life of a Collector in the Mofussil is 
 varied and bustling even in the hot weather. He 
 rises at daybreak, and goes straight from his bed to 
 the saddle. Then off he gallops across fields bright 
 with dew to visit the scene of the late Dacoit robbery; 
 or to see with his own eyes whether the crops of the 
 Zemindar who is so unpunctual with his assessment 
 have really failed ; or to watch with fond parental 
 care the progress of his pet embankment. Perhaps 
 he has a run with the bobbery pack of the station, 
 consisting of a superannuated fox-hound, four 
 beagles, a greyhound, the doctor's retriever, and a 
 Skye terrier belonging to the Assistant-Magistrate, 
 who unites in his own person the offices of M. F. H., 
 huntsman, and whipper-in. They probably start a 
 jackal, who gives them a smart run of ten minutes, 
 and takes refuge in a patch of sugar-cane : whence 
 he steals away in safety while the pack are occupied 
 in mobbing a fresh fox and a brace of wolf-cubs, to 
 the delight of a remarkably full field of five sports- 
 men, with one pair of top-boots amongst them. On 
 their return, the whole party adjourn to the sub- 
 scription swimming-bath, where they find their 
 servants ready with clothes, razors, and brushes. 
 After a few headers, and " chota hasaree," or "little 
 breakfast," of tea and toast, flavoured with the daily 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 171 
 
 papers and scandal about the Commissioner, the 
 Collector returns to his bungalow, and settles down 
 to the hard business of the day. Seated under a 
 punkah in his veranda, he works through the con- 
 tents of one despatch-box after another; signing 
 orders, and passing them on to the neighbouring 
 Collectors; dashing through drafts, to be filled 
 up by his subordinates ; writing Reports, Minutes, 
 Digests, letters of explanation, of remonstrance, of 
 warning, of commendation. Noon finds him quite 
 ready for a dejeuner a la fourchette, the favourite 
 meal in the Mofussil, where the tea-tray is lost amidst 
 a crowd of dishes, — fried fish, curried fowl, roast kid 
 and mint-sauce, and mango-fool. Then he sets off 
 in his buggy to Cutcherry, where he spends the 
 afternoon in hearing and deciding questions con- 
 nected with land and revenue. If the cases are few, 
 and easy to be disposed of, he may get away in time 
 for three or four games at rackets in the new court 
 of glaring white plaster, which a rich native has 
 built, partly as a speculation, and partly to please 
 the Sahibs. Otherwise, he drives with his wife on 
 the race-course; or plays at billiards with the In- 
 spector of Police; or, if horticulturally inclined, 
 superintends the labours of his Mollies. Then 
 follows dinner, and an hour of reading or music. 
 By ten o'clock he is in bed, with his little ones asleep 
 in cribs, enclosed within the same mosquito curtains 
 as their parents. 
 
 The ladies, poor things, come in for all the dis- 
 agreeables of up-country life. Without plenty of 
 
172 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 work, India is unbearable. That alone can stave off 
 languor, and a depth oi ennui oi which a person who 
 has never left Europe can form n6 conception. In a 
 climate, which keeps every one within doors from 
 eight in the morning till five in the evening, it is, 
 humanly speaking, impossible to make sufficient 
 occupation for yourself, if it does not come to you 
 in the way of business. After a prolonged absence 
 from home, reviews and newspapers become un- 
 interesting. Good novels are limited in number ; and 
 it is too much to expect that a lady should read 
 history and poetry for six hours every day. What 
 well-regulated female can make dress an object in a 
 society of a dozen people, who know her rank to a 
 tittle, and her income to a pice; or music, when her 
 audience consists of a Punkah-wallah and a Portu- 
 guese Ayah? Some ladies, as a matter of conscience, 
 go very closely into the details of household affairs; 
 but after a time they come to the conclusion that it 
 is better to allow the servants to cheat within a 
 certain margin, for the sake of peace and quietness; 
 for cheat they will, do what you may. Oh! the 
 dreariness of that hour in the middle of the long day, 
 when the children are asleep; and your husband has 
 gone to tiffin with the Judge; and the book-club 
 has sent nothing but Latham's "Nationalities of 
 Europe," and three refutations of Colenso, (who 
 seems to take an unconscionable amount of refuting, 
 considering the size of his publication;) and the 
 English post has come in yesterday, with nothing 
 but a letter from your old governess, congratulating 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 173 
 
 you for being settled among the associations of the 
 Mahommedan conquerors of India, and asking you 
 to take some notice of her nephew, who is in the 
 office of the Accountant-General of Bombay. It is 
 very up-hill work for a lady out here to keep up her 
 spirits and pluck, and her interest in general subjects. 
 The race-week, the visit to her sister in the Punjab, 
 the hope of being ordered down to Calcutta, the re- 
 miniscences of the Sick-leave, and the anticipations 
 of the Furlough, are the consolations of a life which 
 none but a very brave or a very stupid woman can 
 endure long without suffering in mind, health, and 
 tournure. If a lady becomes dowdy, it is all up with 
 her; and the temptations to dowdiness in the Mofus- 
 sil cannot well be exaggerated. 
 
 I know of no better company in the world than a 
 rising Civilian. There is an entire absence of the 
 carping, pining spirit of discontent which is so pain- 
 fully apparent in able men at home who find them- 
 selves kept in the background for want of interest 
 or money. In most cases, the normal condition of 
 a clever Englishman between the ages of twenty- 
 two, and thirty, is a dreary feeling of dissatisfaction 
 about his work and his prospects, and a chronic 
 anxiety for "a sphere. " If he is a master at a public 
 school, he wastes a coupW of hundred pounds at 
 Lincoln's Inn or the Temple, in order to delude him- 
 self with the fond idea that he will one day exchange 
 his desk in the Fourth-form room for the more stir- 
 ring cares of forensic life. If he still hesitates to sur- 
 render the ease and security of a Fellowship, he com- 
 
174 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 pounds with his intellect by writing for the " Satur- 
 day Review," and representing the liberal element 
 in the governing body of his college. He takes to the 
 law, only to discover that there are instincts in the 
 human heart which even conveyancing will not 
 satisfy; to the Church — no, he does not take to the 
 Church; to literature, and finds himself in the 
 plight of that gentleman, who 
 
 At thirty years of age 
 Writes statedly for BlackwoocTs Magazine, 
 And thinks he sees three points in Hamlet's soul 
 As yet unseized by Germans. 
 
 An Englishman cannot be comfortable if he is in a 
 false position ; and he never allows himself to be in 
 a true position unless he is proud of his occupation, 
 and convinced that success will depend upon his 
 own efforts. These agreeable sensations are expe- 
 rienced to the full by an Indian Civil Servant. It 
 is impossible for him to have any misgiving con- 
 cerning the dignity and importance of his work. 
 His power for good and evil is almost unlimited. 
 His individual influence is as great as that arrogated 
 by the most sublime of Dr. Arnold's favourite prae- 
 postors during his first term at the university. He 
 is the member of an official aristocracy, owning no 
 social superior ; bound to no man ; fearing no man. 
 Even though he may be passed over once and again 
 by a prejudice in the mind of his Commissioner, or 
 some theory on the subject of promotion held by his 
 Lieuteuant-Governor, he is well aware that his ad- 
 vancement does not hang upon the will and pleasure 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 175 
 
 of this or the other great man, but is regulated by 
 the opinion entertained of his ability and character 
 by the Service in general. In order to rise in India, 
 it is not necessary to be notorious. In fact, notoriety 
 is rather a clog than otherwise. People out here 
 are not easily bamboozled, and like you none the 
 better for trying to bamboozle them. A Civilian who 
 is conscious of power does not seek to push his way 
 into notice by inditing sensation minutes, or by 
 riding a hobby to the death; but makes it his aim 
 to turn off his work in good style, trusting for his 
 reward to the sense and public spirit of his chief. 
 There is nothing which men in power out here so 
 cordially abominate as solemnity and long-winded 
 pedantry. A ready, dashing subordinate, who, to 
 use a favourite Platonic phrase, "sees things as 
 they are," is sure to win the heart of every Resident 
 and Chief Commissioner with whom he may have 
 to do. I have observed that, if ever a young fellow 
 is spoken of in high quarters as an able and promis- 
 ing public servant, he is sure, on acquaintance, to 
 turn out a remarkably pleasant and interesting com- 
 panion. A Collector or Under Secretary will some- 
 times get a little maudlin over his cheroot, and con- 
 fidesundrylongings for literary society and European 
 topics ; but he never speaks of his duties except in 
 a spirit of enthusiasm, or of his profession without 
 a tone of profound satisfaction. He no more dreams 
 of yearning for " a sphere " than for a pentagon or 
 a rhomboid. A magistrate had been mildly com- 
 plaining to me that he found no time for scientific 
 
176 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 pursuits. " But, after all," he said, " who can think 
 about butterflies or strata when there are embank- 
 ments to be raised on which depends the famine or 
 plenty of a thousand square miles; and scores 
 of human beings are waiting their trial in jail ; and 
 millions are living and dying in ignorance, for want 
 of schools and teachers? " He must be a happy man 
 who can talk of his daily occupations and respons- 
 ibilities in such terms as these. 
 
 But, besides the blessings of absorbing work and 
 an assured position, a Civilian enjoys the inestimable 
 comfort of freedom from pecuniary troubles. In- 
 triguing mothers used to say that a Writer was 
 worth three hundred a year, dead or alive. It requires 
 some self-denial, during the probation in Calcutta, 
 to make both ends of the six months meet; but in 
 the Mofussil a young bachelor has enough and to 
 spare. Tom'sAssistant Magistrate keeps four horses, 
 and lives well within as many hundred rupees a 
 month. If a man puts off his marriage to within a 
 year or two of the age at which he may take a wife 
 in England without being disinherited by his great- 
 uncle, he may always have a good house and plenty 
 of servants, his champagne and his refrigerator, his 
 carriage and buggy, an Arab for the Mem Sahib, 
 and for himself a hundred-guinea horse that will face 
 a pig without flinching. He will be able to portion 
 his daughters, and send his son to Harrow and Ox- 
 ford ; and, while still in the vigour of life, he may 
 retire to a villa at Esher, or a farm in his native 
 county, with a pension of a thousand a year, 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 177 
 
 and as much more from the interest of his savings. 
 Bobus Smith, Sydney's brother, who knew India 
 well, used to say that a man could not live in that 
 country on less than two thousand a year, and could 
 not spend more than three thousand. An amend- 
 ment which would insert the word " married " before 
 the word "man," and alter the numbers to fifteen 
 hundred and two thousand respectively, would be 
 nearer the mark. In a climate where fresh air and 
 cool water are bought for a price, a good income is 
 essential to comfort; but, when comfort has been 
 attained, there is no object on which money can be 
 laid out. A man might subscribe to every charity, 
 and every newspaper, without being two hundred 
 pounds the worse at the end of the year. The sum 
 which can be thrown away on horse-racing is limited 
 by the paucity of the people who desire to win your 
 gold mohurs or to lose their own. There is no 
 temptation to display ; for every member of society 
 knows the exact number of rupees which you draw 
 on the fifteenth of each month. A Joint Magistrate 
 and Deputy-Collector who marries on nine hundred 
 a year may count on being a full Magistrate and 
 Collector at one or two and thirty, with an income 
 of two thousand three hundred. In five years more, 
 with industry and ordinary parts, he will be in 
 receipt of three thousand a year as a Civil and Ses- 
 sions Judge; or, if he prefers to wait his time, he 
 will have charge of a division, with a Commissioner's 
 salary of three thousand six hundred. Then there 
 are the quartern loaves and the plump fishes ; the 
 
 N 
 
178 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 chance of Bombay or Madras; the Lieutenant- 
 Governorships, with an income of ten thousand 
 pounds ; the Council, with an income of eight thou- 
 sand ; the Chief Commissionerships, with an income 
 of six thousand ; the Secretariat and the Board of 
 Revenue, with something under five thousand a 
 year. And these prizes are open to every subject of 
 the Queen, though his father be as poor as Job sub- 
 sequently to the crash in that patriarch's affairs, and 
 though he does not number so much as the butler of 
 a member of Parliament among his patrons and con- 
 nexions.^ 
 
 To those who think that life should be one long 
 education, the choice of a profession is a matter of 
 the greatest moment: for every profession that 
 deserves the name must draw so largely on the time 
 and intellect of a man as to allow scant opportunity 
 for general study. Therefore any one who wishes to 
 preserve a high tone of thought, and a mind con- 
 stantly open to new impressions, must look for a 
 calling which is an education in itself, — a calling 
 which presents a succession of generous and elevat- 
 ing interests. And such is pre-eminently the career 
 of a Civil Servant in India. There is no career which 
 holds out such certain and splendid prospects to 
 honourable ambition. But, better far than this, there 
 is no career which so surely inspires men with the 
 desire to do something useful in theirgeneration, — to 
 
 ^ It must be remembered by readers of this paragraph that 
 a rupee of 1862 had a very different value from a rupee in the 
 early years of the Twentieth Century. 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 179 
 
 leave their mark upon the world for good, and not for 
 evil. The public spirit among the servants of the 
 Government at home is faint compared with the fire of 
 zeal which glows in every vein of an Indian official. 
 Duringaprogress through his province, a Lieutenant 
 Governor is everywhere followed about by Magis- 
 trates, who beg with the most invincible pertinacity 
 for a thousand rupees more towards this infirmary, 
 for another one per cent, on the Court fees towards the 
 re-building of that Cutcherry. Our modern quaestors 
 are every whit as grasping and venal as the satellites 
 of Verres and Dolabella; but it is for the benefit of 
 their District, and not for their own pockets. It is 
 this deep and pure love for his adopted country, 
 transplanted to an uncongenial soil, which too often 
 attachestothe retired Indian the fatal title of " bore ;" 
 which unites all parties in the endeavour to keep 
 him out of the House of Commons, and cough him 
 down if he succeeds in forcing an entrance. It seems 
 incredible to him that people should exhibit indif- 
 ference towards subjects which have been his dearest 
 care ever since he was punted up the Burrampootra 
 river to his first station ; that there should be men 
 who shudder at the bare mention of the Annexation 
 Policy, and who shift their chairs at the most faint 
 allusion to the indigo troubles. But it is out here 
 that the fruits of this noble and earnest philanthropy 
 are manifested in their true light. It is a rare pheno- 
 menon this, of a race of statesmen and judges scat- 
 tered throughout a conquered land, ruling it, not 
 with an eye to private profit, not even in the selfish 
 
i8o LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 interests of the mother country, but in single-minded 
 solicitude for the happiness and improvement of the 
 children of the soil. It is a fine thing to see a homely 
 old pro-consul retiring from the government of a 
 region as large as France and Austria together, 
 with a clear conscience and a sound digestion, to 
 plague his friends about the Amalgamation Act 
 and the Contract Law; to fill his villa on the 
 Thames or the Mole, not with statues and bronzes 
 snatched from violated shrines, but with ground- 
 plans of hospitals and markets and colleges, and 
 translations of codes, and schemes for the introduc- 
 tion of the Roman character into books of Oriental 
 literature. 
 
 Whence comes this high standard of efficiency and 
 public virtue among men taken at random, and then 
 exposed to the temptations of unbounded power, and 
 of unlimited facilities for illicit gain? It cannot be 
 peculiarly the result of Haileybury, for that institu- 
 tion, from its very nature, united many of the faults 
 of school and college. The real education of a Civil 
 Servant consists in the responsibility that devolves on 
 him at an early age, which brings out whatever good 
 there is in a man ; the obligation to do nothing that 
 can reflect dishonour on the Service ; the varied and 
 attractive characterof his duties ; andtheexample and 
 precept of his superiors, who regard him rather as a 
 younger brother than as a subordinate official. One 
 black sheep, and two or three incapables, in a yearly 
 list of forty or fifty names, is an unusually bad aver- 
 age for the Indian Civil Service. A young member 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE i8i 
 
 of the Secretariat, a dead hand at a minute, and the 
 best amateur literary critic I ever came across,' told 
 me that, if he had been the eldest son of a man with 
 broad acres in England, and destined for Parlia- 
 ment, he should nevertheless be glad to have spent 
 ten years in India for the sake of the training, 
 moral and intellectual. The absence of bigotry and 
 intolerance out here is undoubtedly very remarkable, 
 although there is no want of genuine religious con- 
 viction and practice. Where there is so much work 
 to be done by any one who will set his hand to the 
 
 ' This was Sir Steuart Clive Bayley, in 1863 Under Secret- 
 ary to the government of Bengal; afterwards Lieutenant 
 Governor of that province ; and now a Member of the Council 
 of the Secretary of State for India. 
 
 The truth of Sir Steuart Bayley's observation was strikingly 
 exemplified by the career of the author's own father. In 1839 
 Mr. Trevelyan, an Indian Civilian at home on furlough, was 
 made Permanent Secretary of the Treasury in London, and 
 thereby placed at the head of the English Civil Service. Mr. 
 Trevelyan was then little more than thirty years old ; but he 
 had been engaged during twelve years in responsible and im- 
 portant public work at Delhi, in Rajpootana, and at Calcutta. 
 Entering upon his new duties with the energy of a man in the 
 spring of life, combined with the experience of a practised 
 administrator, he succeeded in turning the official world up- 
 side down, — in the right direction. Owing to his determined 
 efforts, the privilege of serving the country was thrown open 
 to free and and fair competition among all the citizens of the 
 country, instead of being a close preserve for private favourit- 
 ism and electoral influence; and it was mainly due to him, 
 (whoever else may have the credit of it,) that the purchase of 
 Military Commissions was extinguished, and promotion in the 
 army made the reward of merit, and no longer an affair of 
 money. 
 
i82 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 plough, men have no time to quarrel about the 
 direction and depth of the furrows. Here, at least, 
 the waste lands are plenteous, and the labourers are 
 very few. Here people can well afford to leave each 
 other to toil in peace. 
 
 The drawbacks of Indian life begin to be severely- 
 felt when it becomes necessary to send the first-born 
 home. From that period, until his final retirement, 
 there is little domestic comfort for the father of the 
 family. After two or three years have gone by, and 
 two or three children have gone home, your wife's 
 spirits are no longer what they were. She is uneasy 
 for days after a letter has come in with the Brighton 
 post-mark. At last there arrives a sheet of paper 
 scrawled over in a large round hand, and smeared 
 with tears and dirty fingers, which puts her beside 
 herself. You wake two or three times in the night 
 always to find her crying at your side; and the next 
 morning you write to the agent of the P. and O. to 
 engage places for a lady and ayah. At the end of 
 the six months she writes to say that the doctor has 
 insisted on the child's going to Nice for the winter, 
 and that she must stay to take him; and shortly after- 
 wardsyoureceiveacommunicationfromyourmother- 
 in-law, to the effect that you must give her daughter 
 another summer in England, under pain of the life- 
 long displeasure of that estimable relative. And so 
 it goes on till, after the lapse of some three or four 
 years, your wife joins you at the Presidency in a 
 state of wild delight at meeting you, and intense 
 misery at finding herself again in India. Within 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 183 
 
 the next two hot seasons she has had three fevers. 
 She tries the hills, but it will not do; and at last 
 you make up your mind to the inevitable, and run 
 down to Calcutta to take your seat at the Board of 
 Revenue and despatch her to England, with a tacit 
 understanding that she is never to return. Then 
 you settle down into confirmed bachelor habits, un- 
 til one day in August, when all Chowringhee is a 
 vast vapour-bath, you feel, in the region of your 
 liver, an unusually smart touch of the pain which 
 has been constantly recurring during the last eigh- 
 teen months, and it strikes you that your clever idle 
 son will be more likely to pass his competitive 
 examination if you are on the spot to superintend 
 his studies. So you resign your seat in Council, 
 accept a farewell dinner from your friends, who by 
 this time comprise nearly the whole of Calcutta 
 society, and go on board at Garden Reach, under a 
 salute from the guns of Fort William and an abusive 
 article in the Hurkaru on your infatuated predilec- 
 tion for the natives. 
 
 But the returned Indian does not leave all his 
 troubles behind him on the ghaut whence he em- 
 barks for England. In fact, it is not till after the 
 first year of home-life that he begins to appreciate 
 the dark side of the career in which he takes just 
 pride. The first sight of turnip fields and broad- 
 backed sheep; the first debauch on home-made 
 bread, and bright yellow butter, and bacon which 
 is above suspicion; the first pic-nic; the first visit 
 to the Haymarket Theatre ; the first stroll round the 
 
i84 LETTERS FROM PATNA 
 
 playing-fields with his pet son, the Newcastle 
 medallist of the year, are joys so fresh and pure as 
 to admit no doubt about the future or yearnings for 
 the past. But before long he is conscious of a cer- 
 tain craving for the daily occupation to which he 
 has been accustomedsince boyhood. He remembers, 
 with fond regret, the pleasure with which he plunged 
 headlong into the Settlement of the Rajbehar dis- 
 trict on his return from furlough in '47. Though far 
 from a vain man, he misses the secure and important 
 position which he has so long occupied. He feels 
 the want of the old friends with whom he lived dur- 
 ing his prime ; the old habits and associations which 
 are so familiar and so dear to him. It is a severe 
 trial for a leader of Calcutta society to become one 
 of the rank and file in the pump-room at a watering- 
 place; to sink from the Council-board to the Vestry, 
 and from the High Court to the Petty Sessions. It 
 is a severe trial, — when settled down at Rugby or 
 Cheltenham, seeing that his boys learn their repeti- 
 tions and get up in time for morning school, quar- 
 relling with their tutor, and requesting the head- 
 master to publish his Confirmation sermon, — for a 
 man to look back to the days when he coerced 
 refractory Rajahs, bearded the Secretariat, and did 
 the Finance Minister out of a lac and half for his 
 favourite cotton-road. It is a severe trial to live 
 among men who know not John Peter Grant, 
 who hold the opinion that the opium duty is im- 
 moral, and who are under the impression that a 
 Zemindar is a native non-commissioned officer. He 
 
THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 185 
 
 must console himself with English air and scenery 
 and books and faces, with the consciousness of a 
 good work well done, and a good name handed on 
 unstained to the children who are growing up around 
 him. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW; 
 
 OR, 
 
 "IS HIS APPOINTMENT PUCKA?" 
 1863 
 
T 
 
 THE DAWK BUNGALOW; 
 
 OR, "is his appointment pucka?" 
 
 (1863) 
 
 HIS play takes its name from the comfortless 
 hostelries of India, in which the larder con- 
 sists of a live fowl, and the accommodation of three 
 rooms on the ground-floor, less than half-furnished 
 even according to Oriental notions of furniture; the 
 traveller being supposed to bring with him bread, 
 beer, and bedding. The leading character is a lady 
 of the old school, full of the ideas which that school 
 was vaguely supposed to entertain : — the rivalry be- 
 tween the Judicial, and the "Administrative" or 
 " Revenue," lines of the Service: — the contempt for 
 non-official people, whom she classes indiscrimin- 
 ately as "interlopers": — and a strong preference, 
 (amounting in her case almost to a monomania,) 
 for a Permanent over an Acting appointment. In 
 Civilian parlance an employe who does vicarious 
 duty for another is "cutcha," unless he be "con- 
 firmed " in his position, when he rises to the dignity 
 of being "pucka," — a word which denotes generally 
 the perfect and the mature. Future Civil Servants, 
 who have not yet sailed for the East, may acquire 
 from these pages some foretaste of Anglo-Indian 
 slang; but they must be careful to bear in mind 
 
iQO THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 that the author was anything but a purist in Hindoo- 
 stanee. 
 
 The"Dawk Bungalow" was originallyacted at the 
 Residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, 
 before an audience nine-tenths of which held either 
 pucka or cutcha appointments. It has been frequently 
 played in various parts of India, and enriched, by 
 the pens of ingenious Aides-de-camp and Private 
 Secretaries, with local allusions, and topical songs, 
 adapted to later times and other Presidencies. This 
 circumstance, (it must be admitted,) is an additional 
 reason with the author for reprinting the piece as 
 nearly as possible in its pristine form. This little 
 drama, and the "Letters from Patna," do not pro- 
 fess to be a picture of India, but only of Anglo- 
 Indian life. Twelve months are sufficient to catch 
 the tone of a society, and understand the spirit of 
 an administration ; but a much longer residence is 
 needed in order to learn the secrets of a vast and un- 
 familiar country. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONAE 
 
 Mr. JuDKlNS, Commissioner of Budgemahal. 
 
 The Hon. Mr. Horace Cholmondeley, M.P., a Gentleman 
 
 travelling in search of facts. 
 Lieut. Marsden, of the B.N. I., Acting-Assistant-Suh-Deputy- 
 
 Inspector of Bridges in the Public Works Department. 
 Abdool, a Madras Boy in the service of Mr. Cholmondeley. 
 The Khansaumaun, or Steward, of the Dawk Bungalow at 
 
 Muckapore Bikra. 
 Mrs. Smart, Wife of the Judge of Budgemahal. 
 Miss Fanny Smart, her Daughter. 
 Susan Th acker, her European Lady's-maid. 
 
ACT I 
 
 The Centre Room in the Dawk Bungalow at 
 Miickapore Bikra. 
 
 A Bedstead and Table on opposite sides of the 
 Apartment. 
 
 Enter Cholmondeley and Abdool. 
 
 C. — Hi, there! Landlord! Landlord! 
 
 A. — Ho! Khansaumaun! 
 
 [Enter Khansaumaun. 
 
 K. — Salaam, Sahib! 
 
 C. — Why didn't you come before, you lazy old 
 rascal? Abdool, tell him to bring some soda-water. 
 
 A. — Ho, Khansaumaun — Belattee pawnee, 
 brandy shrub ! 
 
 C— Abdool, let the landlord know that he had 
 better make me comfortable. Tell him that I am an 
 English gentleman of good family. Tell him, too, 
 that I am related to the First Lord of the Admiralty. 
 
 A. — Ho, Khansaumaun! Sahib Burra Mahngee 
 ke Bhai hai. Sahib Belattee koolin brahmin hai.' 
 
 ^.— Bah Wah ! 
 
 ' "Ho, Khansaumaun! the Sahib is the brother of the 
 great bargee. The Sahib is an English high-caste Brahmin." 
 
192 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 C. — Now I flatter myself that I have impressed 
 him sufficiently. Abdool, ask him whether there are 
 any letters for Mr. Cholmondeley. 
 
 A. — Chulmungular Sahib ke wasti chittee hi? 
 
 [Khansaumaun ^"ves a letter. 
 
 C. — Here is a hand I ought to know. Why, it 's 
 from my old school-fellow Tom Blake, the Junior 
 Secretary in the Home Department. Let me see 
 what he says. [Reads.] "Dear Chum, Very glad 
 you enjoy your tour. Sorry I can't join you. My chief 
 keeps me tight to work. Takes no holidays himself. 
 Gives me fewer still." Tom's style is curt. He is 
 said to get through more work in a given time than 
 any man in the secretariat; and, gad, I begin to 
 understand how he earns his reputation. [Reads] — 
 "I enclose a letter of introduction to old Judkins, 
 the Commissioner of Budgemahal. Tell you more 
 about Waste Lands than any man in India. Wrote 
 a report so long that the Lieutenant-Governor would 
 not read it, and gave him Budgemahal to get him 
 out of the way. Telegraphed to you on Friday week 
 to say I would not come." Hullo, Abdool, has a tele- 
 graph come for me? 
 
 A. — No, master. Master not understand Indian 
 system of telegrumps. Suppose Blake Sahib want 
 send telegrump to master, he send telegrump Friday. 
 Next Monday he write letter. Master get letter first: 
 tell him contents of telegrump. Two, three day after 
 telegrump done coming. Master then know what to 
 expect. That way no mistake made. 
 
 C. — Oh ! that is the case, is it? I'll make a note of 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 193 
 
 that in my commonplace-book. [Writes.] — "Tele- 
 graph in India employed as auxiliary to epistolary 
 communication." Gad! I've neglected my common- 
 place-book lately. I must make up for lost time. 
 But, while I think of it, let me settle my accounts. 
 Abdool, what have you paid for me since yesterday 
 morning? 
 
 A. — Master drive three dawks yesterday. Give 
 syce three rupee, grass-cutter two rupee. Three 
 syce three grass-cutter fifteen rupee. That make 
 one gold Mohur. 
 
 C. — That seems rather a high rate of tips, con- 
 sidering that the longest stage was under six miles. 
 
 A. — Oh ! Master plenty Burra Lord Sahib. Chota' 
 Sahib one rupee give. Burra Sahib two rupee. Bur- 
 ra Lord Sahib three rupee. 
 
 C. — -Well, the man 's right. Gad, the man 's right. 
 But what did you pay at the bungalow where we 
 stopped last night? 
 
 A. — Bungalow servants, three rupee yeight anna. 
 Beer shrub, two rupee yeight anna. Master's bed, 
 five rupee. 
 
 C. — Five rupees for the privilege of laying my 
 mattress in an apartment shared by seven other 
 individuals, where I was kept awake the first half 
 of the night by two Civilians discussingtherespective 
 merits of ryotwaree and village tenures, and the last 
 half by two planters abusing the Secretary of State 
 for India! Well, go on. 
 
 A. Coolies, ten rupee. 
 
 ^ Little. 
 O 
 
194 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 C. — What! Ten rupees for carrying my baggage 
 from the ghaut to the dog-cart? 
 
 A. — Master's bokkus plenty heavy. Wages plenty 
 too much high. Coolies dig at Reproduckertive 
 Pubberlic Workus. Coolie now get three rupee a 
 day. 
 
 C. — Gad so. Very true. [Writes.'] — "Labour 
 market sensibly understocked. Impulse given to 
 trade by demand for cotton. Unskilled labour out 
 here paid higher than skilled labour at home." Go 
 ahead. 
 
 ^.— Light for cheroot, yeight anna. Master's 
 dinner, twelve rupee. 
 
 C. — Why, I'd nothing but one curried fowl, and 
 that fowl had no wings or breast. And, now that I 
 come to think of it, the fowl I had the day before 
 yesterday had no wings or breast either. How's 
 that, Abdool? 
 
 A. — Sahib, these Bengal fowls no wings got. 
 Bad fowl these. Madras fowl plenty too much 
 wings got. 
 
 C. — Well, wings or no wings, I am mortally 
 tired of fowls. I've had nothing for the last week 
 but those unlucky birds, except, indeed a pot of 
 preserved grouse which had been left by an officer 
 who was quartered in these parts during the Mutiny. 
 [Clucking heard outside.] What 's that? 
 
 ^.—Master's dinner done killing. 
 
 C.—O Lord! another fowl! Well, what's the 
 total of my account? 
 
 ^.—Forty-nine rupee, twelve anna. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 195 
 
 C. — Here 's a fifty-rupee note. Never mind the 
 odd annas. You may keep them for yourself. 
 
 A. — O, master very kind. Plenty much thanks 
 to master. [£!xz^ Cholmondeley into Bedroom.] 
 Ha! ha! — Master plenty wise Sahib. He know 
 plenty much about Indian institutions. He not 
 know greatest institution of all. He never heard of 
 Dustoorie.' Wah! Wah! Here come one Burrah 
 Mem Sahib, and one plenty pretty Missy Baba! 
 [Enier Mrs. Smart and Fanny, followed by Susan 
 Thacker.] Salaam, Lady! 
 
 E. — La, Ma, what a well-dressed bearer! I won- 
 der who he belongs to. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Kiska Nowkar? ° 
 
 A. — My master Chulmungular Sahib. Plenty 
 great Sahib he. Member of Council for making 
 Laws and Regulations for Presidency of England. 
 
 [Exii Abdool. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Good gracious, Fanny, this must be 
 Mr. Cholmondeley, the young Member of Parlia- 
 ment, about whom Mrs. Foley wrote to us from 
 Calcutta. How fortunate we are in having met him 
 here! Now listen, my dear! I insist on your making 
 yourself agreeable to him. Don't frown. Miss. I 
 insist upon it. 
 
 E. — I don't know what you mean by making my- 
 self agreeable. Ma. If I try to make myself more 
 agreeable than Heaven made me, that would be 
 flying in the face of Providence. 
 
 ' The commission pocketed by servants. 
 ' ' ' Whose servant are you ? " 
 
196 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 Mrs. S. — Silence, Fanny. Since that young Mars- 
 den came to the station your undutifulness has 
 been past bearing. I wish he had been under the 
 scaffolding when the roof of that new Cutcherry 
 which he was building fell in, and killed two mookh- 
 tars' and your Pa's principal Sudder Ameen.^ 
 
 F. — How wicked of you to speak so, Mamma! 
 I'm sure I don't know why you are always abusing 
 that poor Mr. Marsden. I believe it's only because 
 I care for him ; and why shouldn't I care for him, 
 I should like to know? \Cries. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Why shouldn't you care for him, you 
 abandoned girl? That I should live to hear my 
 daughter ask such a question. Are you not aware, 
 Fanny, that he isonly^c^2;^^-Assistant-Sub-Deputy- 
 Inspector? Do you imagine that I should give my 
 child to a man whose appointment was not pucka? 
 
 F. — But, Mamma, is Mr. Cholmondeley's appoint- 
 ment pucka? 
 
 Mrs. S. — How can you talk such nonsense, child? 
 One would think you only came out at the end of 
 this cold weather, instead of during the rains before 
 last. Mr. Cholmondeley is a landed gentleman, and 
 draws twelve thousand rupees a month from his 
 estates in Derbyshire, besides holding Government 
 paper to a large amount. 
 
 F. — Well, Ma, I don't see what that matters to us. 
 
 You don't suppose he came to India to look for a 
 
 wife? He might have found plenty of girls at home 
 
 who would endure to marry twelve thousand amonth. 
 
 ^ Attorneys. ^ County Court Judge. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 197 
 
 Mrs. S. — Choopraho! You are a naughty, im- 
 pertinent, self-willed girl. I have a good mind to 
 counter-order the Europe ball-dress which is coming 
 out for you by the first steamer in October. 
 
 F- — Why, Ma, you are always throwing that 
 Europe ball-dress in my teeth. I hope and trust that 
 before next October I shall no longer depend upon 
 you and Papa for my wardrobe. 
 
 Mrs. 5'.— Well, Miss, if that means that you ex- 
 pect to marry young Marsden — ! However, I'll have 
 no more of this. But, Choop! Choop! Somebody's 
 coming. 
 
 Enter Cholmondeley. 
 
 C. — Gad, what a pleasure there is in having a 
 thorough cleaning up after a journey! I hate temp- 
 orary measures. None of your basins in the waiting- 
 room, with a piece of soap borrowed from the 
 station-master, and a napkin abstracted from the 
 refreshment buffet. One never feels so dirty as after 
 a partial wash. Ladies, by George ! \Bows.\ Madam, 
 I fear that it was with the reverse of pleasure you 
 found a stranger already settled in the hotel. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Oh, sir, my daughter and I are much too 
 old travellers to expect solitude in a dawk bungalow. 
 As there is no third party, I shall take the liberty of 
 introducing myself as Mrs. Smart, wife of the late 
 Judge of Budgemahal. 
 
 C. {bows and 'mrites.\ — "Peculiarities of Anglo- 
 Indian manners. Old ladies take the liberty of intro- 
 ducing themselves as wives of late Judges." Well, 
 madam, since you have taken the initiative, allow 
 
198 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 me to present to your notice Mr. Horace Cholmon- 
 deley, of Paxton Park, Derbyshire. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Most happy, I am sure, to make your 
 acquaintance. 
 
 C. — And, pray, \j o is the young lady with the 
 bandbox? 
 
 Mrs. S. — That is our European lady's-maid, Mr. 
 Cholmondeley. 
 
 C. [aside.] — A European lady's-maid! What gi- 
 gantic ideas of nationality people have in this 
 country ! I suppose I shall hear next of a Caucasian 
 cook and a Semitic footman. 
 
 Mrs. S. — This, Mr. Cholmondeley, is my daugh- 
 ter Fanny. 
 
 C. — My dear Mrs. Smart, your daughter? I 
 thought she was your sister. [Aside.] — Gad, I sus- 
 pect I have offended the young lady more than I 
 have pleased the old one. — Miss Smart, I presume 
 by your colour that you have only landed within 
 the last month. 
 
 i^. — Come, Mr. Cholmondeley, you can't return 
 so soon upon your statement that I looked like my 
 mother's sister. I came out during the rains before 
 last, and two hot seasons have so altered me that I 
 cannot wonder at strangers mistaking me for my 
 own aunt. 
 
 C. — Two hot seasons ! Good heavens, Miss Smart, 
 what can the young men be about? 
 
 F. — Mr. Cholmondeley, the young men out here 
 are much too hardly worked to allow them time for 
 paying impertinent compliments. 
 
 [ Walks across the stage. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 199 
 
 Mrs. S. — Mr. Cholmondeley, my daughter had a 
 long dawk, and is tired and feverish. 
 
 C. {courteously.) — I trust you have not suffered 
 from the journey, Mrs. Smart? 
 
 Mrs. S. — No, indeed. I am of the old school, Mr. 
 Cholmondeley. These young ladies will dance till 
 five o'clock in the morning for a week together, but 
 a night in a palkee is too much for their delicate 
 constitutions. Well do I remember how I came up- 
 country with Mr. Smart to our first appointment 
 five-and-twenty years ago. I landed at Garden 
 Reach on the Monday, after a rapid passage of a 
 hundred and sixty-four days in the " Bombay 
 Castle." On the Wednesday I met Mr. Smart at a 
 ball at the Chief's, and by Saturday evening we were 
 in a budgerow on our way to Boglipore, which we 
 reached after a pleasant voyage of seven weeks and 
 three days. Oh, the delights of those days ! My un- 
 wedded life in India was short indeed, for it extended 
 only from the Monday evening till the Friday morn- 
 ing. But it was very sweet. I was acknowledged to 
 be the belle of Calcutta; and a young gentleman 
 was to have written me some verses in the " Friend 
 of India," but unfortunately I was married before 
 the number came out. Ah, Mr. Cholmondeley! I 
 was called the Europe Angel. 
 
 C. — Yes, the late Mr. Smart must have been in- 
 deed a happy man ! You said the late, did not you? 
 
 [Sighs.] 
 
 Mrs. S. — Oh no ; not at all. I said the late Judge 
 of Budgemahal. You must know, Mr. Cholmon- 
 
200 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 deley, that a certain fatality has linked my husband's 
 destiny to that of a person of the name of Judkins. 
 Their rivalry dates from Haileybury, where Mr. 
 Smart obtained seventeen gold and three silver 
 medals, while Mr. Judkins was forced to content 
 himself with three gold medals and seventeen silver. 
 During the early part of their Indian career they 
 were constantly pitted against each other. At length 
 their lines diverged. Mr. Judkins went into the 
 Revenue, and became Commissioner of Budge- 
 mahal; while my husband chose the Judicial, and 
 was appointed to the Judgeship at the same station. 
 Mr. Cholmondeley, you will hardly believe the in- 
 sults we endured for the last three years from that 
 man and his low up-country-bred wife! Thank 
 heaven, my husband has now risen in his own line 
 out of reach of Mr. Judkins. He has been appointed 
 within the last month to the Sudder Court at Agra, 
 and my daughter and I are now travelling down to 
 join him. Oh, Mr. Cholmondeley! you little know 
 the depth of villainy to which a thorough-bred 
 Revenue officer is capable of stooping. 
 
 C. \writes.\ — "Memo — To inform myself concern- 
 ing the depth of villainy to which a thorough-bred 
 Revenue officer is capable of stooping." I sym- 
 pathize deeply, madam. Pray accept my warmest 
 congratulations on your removal from the sphere of 
 the machinations of that serpent. But what means 
 of annoyance did he adopt? 
 
 Mrs. S. — Well, Mr. Cholmondeley, you must 
 know that he has abetted a protege of his own, one 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 201 
 
 Marsden, who has paid his addresses to my daugh- 
 ter, — ayoung man in the Public Works, who (would 
 you believe it, Mr. Cholmondeley?) has not even 
 been confirmed. 
 
 C. — The young heathen ! And is not Mr. Marsden 
 aware of his awful condition? 
 
 Mrs. S. — No; extraordinary to relate, he shows 
 the greatest indifference. And though he has plenty 
 of interest, — being, in fact, the son of a Member of 
 the Indian Council,— he has not yet induced his 
 father to use his influence to get him confirmed. 
 
 C— Indeed ! [ Writes.] — " The official element so 
 strong out here that private influence is required to 
 obtain the performance of the most ordinary rites of 
 the church." A new phase of nepotism, by George! 
 
 Mrs. S. — But, Mr. Cholmondeley, what has 
 brought you into these parts? 
 
 C. — Well, my dear madam, I am on my way to 
 the Sonepore meeting. I am told that I shall see 
 more Indian life at the Sonepore races in a week 
 than during a year at Calcutta. 
 
 Mrs. S. [with a bounce.] — Indian life, indeed! A 
 hole-and-corner gathering of Bahar people. I assure 
 you, Mr. Cholmondeley, that we North-westers don't 
 think so much of those down country meetings. 
 But to hear the Patna people talk, you would 
 think Sonepore was the Derby and the St. Leger 
 rolled into one. Indian life, indeed! Indian fiddle- 
 sticks ! 
 
 C. [aside.] — Gad, the old girl seems irate. I'll go 
 to my bedroom, and write out my notes. Au revoir, 
 
202 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 Mrs. Smart. I wish you good morning, Miss 
 Smart. [Exit C. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Well, Fanny, I hope you consider you 
 have behaved rudely enough to Mr. Cholmondeley. 
 
 jF. — Oh, Mamma, I cannot endure a swell, even 
 though his whiskers are pucka; and, upon my 
 honour, I believe that Mr. Cholmondeley's are only 
 an acting pair. 
 
 Mrs. S. — How vulgar you are, Fanny! Why, 
 Susan, what is the matter? 
 
 Susan. — Matter enough, ma'am ! I have just seen 
 with my own eyes young Mr. Marsden in the stable 
 a-watching his horse having his gram, and smoking 
 his cheroot as cool as if the bungalow belonged to 
 him. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Horrid young man! How can he have 
 the face to come across us? I am quite certain that 
 odious Mr. Judkins cannot be far off. Whenever 
 you see Mr. Marsden, you may be sure that his 
 patron is somewhere in the neighbourhood. 
 
 \Retires to rear of stage. 
 
 Susan. — Oh, Miss, it is just what your Ma said, 
 only I didn't dare to tell her so. That Mr. Judkins 
 will be here in half-an-hour, and intends to stop till 
 the cool of the evening. He is marching on a visit 
 of inspection to the out-stations, to see that the roads 
 are in proper order against the time that the members 
 of Council go up to the Great Exhibition at Lahore. 
 Mr. Marsden told me all that as free as might be, 
 like a civil-spoken, handsome young gentleman as 
 he is. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 203 
 
 F. — Nonsense, Susan. But does Frank,— does Mr. 
 Marsden know that I, — that our party is here? 
 
 Susan. — Yes, Miss. He said he knew it by the 
 instinct of affection. 
 
 F. — -He said a great deal of nonsense, I've no 
 doubt. But silence ! Here he comes. 
 
 Enter Marsden. He goes up to Fanny, but Mrs. 
 Smart steps in. 
 
 Mrs. ^.— Well, Mr. Marsden, I should have 
 thought that you might have abstained from forcing 
 yourself into our company during the last day we 
 spend in this Division. Before another word passes, 
 I must insist on knowing definitely what are your 
 intentions. 
 
 M. — My intentions, Mrs. Smart, are very avow- 
 able. I intend to have a bath and my tiffin, a smoke 
 in the veranda, and possibly a peg,^ or even two. 
 I certainly have no desire to force myself into your 
 company; but, unfortunately, the number of dawk 
 bungalows at Muckapore Bikra is limited. 
 
 Mrs. S. — After what has passed, sir, you might 
 have spared us the annoyance of this meeting. 
 
 M. — My dear Mrs. Smart, what can I do? You 
 can hardly expect me to sit in the sun throughout 
 the hottest hours of the day in this attitude. \Squats 
 down like a nati've.'\ The villagers would mistake me 
 for a Sahib who had turned Fakeer. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Sir, sir, I cannot stay here to be the butt 
 of your ribaldry. I shall retire to my own apart- 
 
 ^ The Anglo-Indian for brandy and soda-water. 
 
204 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 ment. As for you, Fanny, you may remain or not, 
 as you like. But mind this: I absolutely forbid you 
 to address a single word to this very objectionable 
 young man. Do you hear, Miss? 
 
 F. — Yes, Mamma. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Do you heed, Miss? 
 
 i^.— Yes, Mamma. [Exit Mrs. Smart. 
 
 [Fanny «yj down with her back to Marsden; 
 Marsden with his back to Fanny. 
 
 M. {aside.'\ — So we are not to address a single 
 word to each other, aren't we? Well, thank Heaven ; 
 no one can forbid us to soliloquize. [Aloud.] I 
 wonder what Mrs. Smart meant by talking about 
 this being her last day in the Division. 
 
 F. — ^Susan, I wish Papa had not been appointed 
 to that horrid Agra. To think that I have seen dear, 
 dear Budgemahal for the last time! 
 
 M. [jumping iip\ — Good heavens ! What do I hear! 
 The Smarts leaving Budgemahal ! What a frightful 
 blow to my hopes! By Jove! sooner than such a 
 misfortune should befall me, I would consent to give 
 up my appointment, and enter the Staff Corps. 'Pon 
 honour I would. 
 
 F. — And to think of the pleasant months we 
 passed there ! The pic-nics ! The balls ! The ho-o-o-g- 
 hunting parties ! [Cries. \ O Susan, I am so wretched. 
 
 M. — Heavens ! what a fool I was not to yield to 
 Mrs. Smart's wishes, and get my father to ask 
 Strachey to confirm me in my appointment! 
 
 F. [cries.] — O me! O me! How I do hate that 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 205 
 
 word p-p-pucka! I wish all the pucka appointments 
 in the country were at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 M. — I cannot bear this. Fanny! \¥AiiT^Y shakes 
 her head.] Dearest Fanny ! how can you be so cruel 
 as not to vouchsafe one word at this our last meet- 
 ing? And yet why should it be our last meet- 
 ing? [Aside.] I have it. [Aloud.] Hem! I should 
 not wonder if Mrs. Smart's bearers were to strike 
 work to-morrow morning, opposite the mango-tope, 
 beyond the eighth mile-stone on the Agra road. 
 These fellows are so insolent with unprotected 
 females. How fortunate it is that our camp is pitched 
 in this precise tope! Mrs. Smart and Fanny will 
 have somewhere to shelter themselves during the 
 heat of the day. By Jove! I'll go at once and warn 
 the bearers that they had better not strike work to- 
 morrow morning, opposite the mango-tope, beyond 
 the eighth mile-stone on the Agra road. 
 
 [Exti Marsden. 
 
 J^. — Oh, I cannot, cannot part from him ! Oh, 
 Mamma, how could you be so cruel? 
 
 Susan. — Well, miss, I don't wonder you're so 
 fond of him. He is such a sweet young man, though 
 he is cutcha. Thank goodness, my young man 's 
 pucka, though he is only a subordinate Government 
 Salt Chowkie. However, he has great hopes of be- 
 ing promoted to be an opium godown. 
 
 Enter Judkins. 
 J. — Miss Smart! Dear me. Miss Smart, I am very 
 fortunate in meeting you once more before you leave 
 
2o6 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 my Division. Budgemahal will long regret the loss 
 of its fairest flower. 
 
 F. — O, Mr. Judkins, I am so glad to see you 
 again ! You have been always so kind to me. 
 
 J. — Glad to see me again, eh, Miss Fanny? I 
 suppose that there are others of your family here 
 who will not be equally enchanted? Eh? 
 
 F. — Come, Mr. Judkins, you must not make jokes 
 about Mamma. But, — Oh, how shall I ever thank 
 you enough for — for — for — 
 
 J. — For doing my best to smooth matters with 
 reference to a certain young gentleman? Is that 
 what you mean? Eh, Fanny? Well, what should 
 you say if I told you I had written a private note to 
 my kind friend, the Lieutenant-Governor of the 
 North- West, telling him exactly how the matter 
 stands; and, from what I know of Drummond, 
 I'll engage that we shall have some good news 
 in a day or two. He always had a soft heart, 
 had Drummond! So, if Frank is confirmed, he 
 will owe it to you, and nobody but you; eh, 
 Fanny? 
 
 F. — Oh, Mr. Judkins, how could you? You un- 
 kind, treacherous, inconsiderate — dear old friend! 
 God bless you. \Kisses him and runs out. 
 
 J. — Well, she 's a darling girl. It is hard to say 
 whether she takes less after her father or mother. 
 Smart was the greatest fool among the Zillah 
 Judges, and now will be the greatest fool in the 
 
 Sudder Court; while the mother, But I don't 
 
 trust myself to speak about the mother. \Enter 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 207 
 
 Marsden.] Well, youngster, have you seen to the 
 horses? How 's the Arab's off fore-leg? 
 
 M. — ^No better than it should be, I'm afraid. 
 
 J. — You've ordered dinner, I suppose. What's 
 the bill of fare? 
 
 M. — Oh, the usual thing. Sub kooch hai, Sahib.^ 
 Muttony chop nahin hai. Beafy-steak nahin hai. 
 Unda bakun nahin hai.° Ducky stew nahin hai. 
 Moorghee grill hai. [A fowl runs across the stage, 
 with K-HANSAVMAVN in pursuit. Soft music.] 
 
 Enter Cholmondeley. 
 
 M. — Hullo, Mr. Judkins, here's Lord Dundreary; 
 or at any rate his brother Sam, come out in the Un- 
 covenanted Service. 
 
 C. — Haw! Haw! Have I the pleasure of address- 
 ing the Commissioner of Budgemahal? 
 
 J. — You have, Sir. 
 
 C. — Will you then allow me to present you with 
 a letter of introduction from Mr. Blake, Junior 
 Secretary of the Home Department? 
 
 J. — I shall be most delighted to serve in any way 
 a friend of Tom's. I never came across so promis- 
 ing a subordinate. Ah, Marsden, you would do 
 well to tread in his steps. \Reads.\ So it appears, 
 Mr. Cholmondeley, that you want to be put up to a 
 thing or two about Waste Lands. Well, though I 
 say it as shouldn't, you could not well have applied 
 to a better man. Could he, Frank? Now, I'll tell 
 
 ' " Anything you like, Sahib. " 
 ^ "There are no eggs and bacon." 
 
2o8 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 you how we'll set to work. You shall commence 
 your acquaintance with the subject by reading my 
 celebrated Minute to theLieutenant-Governor, which 
 procured me my present appointment. It will give 
 you a good general view of the subject in a small 
 compass. It is a mere sketch ; perhaps about half 
 again as long as Mr. Plowden's Salt Report. 
 
 C. — Why, my good Sir, Mr. Plowden's Report 
 served me for reading all the way from Marseilles 
 to the Sandheads, and then I had only got into 
 Henry Meredith Parker's letters. 
 
 J. — Well, well, I'll point out the passages best 
 worth reading. And then, when you have mas- 
 tered the outlines, we'll go into the details. Tell 
 you what ! If you'll join my camp for a week or so, 
 you will have the opportunity of hearing my decision 
 in several most important cases. We'll make you 
 very comfortable, and perhaps we may manage to 
 show you a little hog-hunting. 
 
 C. — Oh, Sir, you are very good; very good, in- 
 deed, 'pon honour. I shall accept your invitation 
 with great pleasure ; that is to say, if it does not 
 incommode you. 
 
 y. — Incommode me! Who ever heard of incom- 
 moding in India? Unfortunately, we have only one 
 spare tent, and that is a fly: unless, indeed, you 
 care to double up with Frank. Well, I must go and 
 make myself decent. I'll leave you with Marsden. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 M. — May I ask what has brought you to India, 
 Mr. Cholmondeley? Did you come out for sport, eh? 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 209 
 
 C. — Well, Mr. Marsden, I came out in search of 
 facts: in quest of political capital, Mr. Marsden. 
 During my first week I went about incognito, under 
 the idea that people would speak more freely with 
 an obscure Mr. Smith than they would venture to 
 do in the presence of a member of the English Legis- 
 lature; but I found that I was generally mistaken 
 for the commercial traveller of a leading military 
 tailor in Dhurrumtollah,^ to whom I happened to 
 bear a casual resemblance. In consequence, I could 
 not obtain the entree of Civilian society, and was 
 forced to confine myself to the information which 
 could be picked up in the dawk bungalows. Now, 
 the political creed of the frequenters of dawk bunga- 
 lows is too uniform to afford a field for the minute 
 observer; for it consists in the following tenets, — 
 that the Modified Resolutions are the curse of the 
 country; that Sir Mordaunt Wells is the greatest 
 Judge that ever sat on the English Bench ; and that 
 when you hit a nigger he dies on purpose to spite 
 you. 
 
 M. — So you ceased to call yourself Smith? 
 
 C. — Yes, I ceased to call myself Smith, and 
 adopted the title of Captain Jones, of the Fourth 
 Madras Native Infantry, travelling up-country to 
 do duty with a Sikh regiment at Peshawur. Thence- 
 forth I lived exclusively in military society. 
 
 M. — Well, did you get on better than before? 
 
 C. — No, bedad, I found that the political creed of 
 
 ' DhurrumtoUah is the Bond Street of Calcutta, as Chow- 
 ringhee is its Belgravia. 
 
 P 
 
2IO THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 the mess-rooms was even more simple than that of 
 the dawk bungalows; for it was confined to one 
 article of faith, which appeared to include all others, 
 — that since the Amalgamation the Service had gone 
 to the devil. 
 
 M. — So now you're travelling in your own charac- 
 ter? 
 
 C. — Yes. In my character of Member of the Eng- 
 lish Legislature I go where I like, am welcome 
 everywhere, and obtain information from persons 
 of all shades of opinion. Ah ! I've heard some facts 
 which never come to the ears of you Civilians. You 
 think you know India, but, after all, you take good 
 care to hear only what suits your book. I could tell 
 you stories that would make you stare. 
 
 M. — Could you give me a specimen, Mr. Chol- 
 mondeley? 
 
 C. — Well, it was only yesterday that I was din- 
 ing at the house of an indigo planter, and he told 
 me the following anecdote, which I am assured is 
 well authenticated. A friend of his was desirous of 
 purchasing some waste land which lay between the 
 estates of two native Zemindars. He offered the 
 Commissioner a certain sum of money; and these 
 two native fellows subscribed, and offered a larger: 
 and, (would you believe it?) the Commissioner 
 actually accepted their bid. 
 
 M. — Good heavens! It is almost incredible. 
 
 C. — Ah ! You Civilians see only one side of the 
 question. Wait till I take my seat again in the 
 Commons House of Parliament. Wait till I rise in 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 211 
 
 my place, and stand on the floor of the House, and 
 say, "Sir, when from the top of the Ochterlony 
 Monument I looked down on the environs of the 
 capital of India ; when I saw her stately river crowded 
 with sails, her wharves heaped with bales and casks, 
 her network of railways bearing the products of her 
 industry to every corner of that vast continent, from 
 Barrackpore to Diamond Harbour, from Budge- 
 Budge to Dum-Dum ; — then. Sir, I am free to con- 
 fess that I took a solemn vow to exert my every 
 power for the great principle of the Development of 
 resources of India." 
 
 \Knocks down the punkah. Enter Abdool. 
 
 M. — Hear! Hear! That will have a grand effect 
 in the House of Commons. Only I doubt whether 
 they have any punkahs there. 
 
 C. [very much excited.] — I assure you that you 
 Civilians know nothing about the country. [Takes a 
 chair, and sits astride opposite Marsden.] — Look 
 at the railways alone. Sir ! What a field for the efforts 
 of an enlightened Government! Connect Benares 
 with Allahabad, connect Agra with Delhi, and what 
 results will follow! The stream of passengers will 
 flow up to the Punjab, — [Hits Marsden's knee one 
 way]. 
 
 M.—T)on\, Sir! 
 
 C. — And down to the Lower Gangetic provinces! 
 [Hits it the other waj/.] 
 
 M. — Have done, will you? 
 
 C. — Our silver will pour from West to East! [Hits 
 Marsden's knee again.] 
 
212 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 M. — Confound you, Sir ! 
 
 C. — The produce of the looms of Cabul and the 
 gorgeous fabrics of Cashmere will pour from East 
 to West. \In attempting the same manoeuvre., he 
 overbalances the chair and tumbles over.] 
 
 M. [picking him up] — Hulloa! There appears to 
 have been a collision on the line. I hope the gor- 
 geous fabrics of Cashmere are not damaged. 
 
 C. {confused, and rubbing his leg] — Ah ! you Civil- 
 ians know nothing about the country. 
 
 M. — But, my good Sir, I'm not a Civilian. 
 C. — Well then, Sir, you ought to be. You ought 
 to be, if you're not. Sir, I wish you a very good 
 morning. [Exit Cholmondeley. 
 
 A. — Master plenty excitable Sahib. Whenever 
 master done say " Develeropment of Soorces of 
 India," then he talk plenty much and get plenty 
 angry. I sing you song 'bout master. [Sings. ] 
 My master is a great Sahib, 
 
 With whiskers fine and long, 
 And on a public question 
 
 He comes out very strong. 
 Judge Campbell ' of the High Court, 
 
 And Mr. Seton Karr, 
 Whene'er they see my master 
 Invite him from afar: 
 "Walk in, Chumley, walk in, Chumley, pray. 
 Walk into the High Court, thiswarm and sunny day; 
 
 ' This was Sir George Campbell, K.C.S.I., who became 
 Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, and a Member of the Council 
 of India. He sat in Parliament for the Kirkcaldy Burghs. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 213 
 
 Walk into the High Court, this afternoon so fine, 
 And listen to my reasoning on Ten of Fifty-nine.'" 
 
 M. — Well, you are a droll fellow. Who taught 
 you to sing English tunes ? 
 
 A. — Missionary Sahib teach me to sing down 
 Madras way. I learn plenty too many hymn tunes 
 in Mission School. I Christian boy, master. 
 
 M. — Oh, you're a Christian, are you? 
 
 A. — Yes, Sahib, I Christian boy. Plenty poojah ^ 
 do Sunday time. Never no work do. Plenty wrong 
 that. 
 
 M. — No. I'll be bound you appreciate that part 
 of our religion. Well, whatever your tenets may be, 
 you are a funny dog. Here 's a rupee for you. 
 
 A. — O, master too good: plenty too much good. 
 I sing 'nother song to master: — 
 
 The Judge and the Collector 
 
 They both have gone away. 
 Gone to Mussoorie 
 
 Their Privilege Leave to stay: 
 And, while they're off together 
 
 On a little bit of spree, 
 I'm off to Sonepore 
 
 The Planters' Cup to see. 
 
 Old Jones my chief descried me. 
 Says he : "I greatly grieve 
 
 ^ Act Ten of 1859 embodied a most praiseworthy effort to 
 grapple with the Rent question, — a matter too serious to be 
 discussed in the note to a farce. 
 
 ^ Religious worship. 
 
214 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 To see you here at Sonepore 
 
 Without my special leave." 
 Says I : "I ventured hither 
 
 To come, Sir, in the hope 
 Of playing croquet with Miss Jones 
 
 Beneath the Race-course tope." 
 
 Enter Judkins. 
 
 J. — Hollo, Marsden, you appear to be having a 
 tumasha ' here on your own account. If it 's all the 
 same to you, I'll assume the liberty of sending this 
 fellow about his business, (if he has got any, that is 
 to say, which doesn't seem probable,) and taking a 
 quiet snooze. Jao!'' {Exit Abdool.] Wake me 
 when dinner comes, there's a good boy. \Goes to 
 sleep, with a handkerchief over his face. \ 
 
 M. — Well, what with that Madras boy and his 
 master, I don't know when I have spent a more 
 amusing time in a dawk bungalow. But I wish 
 Fanny would come out again. If she has half the 
 sense I give her credit for, she will find out that the 
 coast is clear, and take her opportunity. I'll run the 
 risk, and tap at her door. No; excellent idea! I'll 
 let off the cork of a bottle of Belattee pawnee against 
 the panel, and then, if the mother comes out instead 
 of Fanny, I can pretend that it was done by mistake. 
 \Takes a bottle of soda-water, and lets off the cork.'] 
 
 Enter Fanny. 
 F. — My dear Mr. Marsden, how very rash you 
 are ! How could you knock at our door? 
 
 ' A musical or theatrical entertainment. " " Be oif ! " 
 
THF DAWK BUNGALOW 215 
 
 M. — I protest, Fanny, that your suspicions are 
 unworthy of you. I was making the preparations 
 for a modest peg, when out you bolt, and charge me 
 in the most gratuitous manner with knocking at 
 your door. Knocking at the door! I assure you I 
 feel your conduct deeply. \Tums away.] 
 
 i^.— Well, well, Frank, I beg your pardon for my 
 suspicions, though I cannot help thinking that they 
 are not without foundation. But have you nothing 
 pretty to say to me, now I am here? 
 
 M. — Nothing except what I've told you a thous- 
 and times already, that you are the dearest, sweetest 
 of women ; that you are a pucka angel ; that I would 
 die for you ; that I would give up my accumulated 
 arrears of Privilege Leave for you ; that for you I 
 would do unpaid duty with the East Indian Regi- 
 ment at Dacca. In fact, everything that I have told 
 you so often and so eagerly ever since that thrice 
 auspicious night, (you remember it, Fanny?) when 
 the Station Ball was held in the Judge's Cutcherry, 
 much to the disgust of your respected Governor. 
 Shall you ever forget how we pulled a cracker to- 
 gether, and how I read to you the motto; — simple 
 verses, perhaps, Fanny, but dearer to me thence- 
 forward than all Shakespeare, and Tennyson, and 
 Byron bound up together? 
 
 " I soon shall die unless I see 
 That you love me as I love thee; — " 
 
 F. — Well, well ! I won't deny that we have talked 
 a great deal of pleasant nonsense together. But I 
 
2i6 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 have a piece of news for you. Are you sure he 's 
 asleep? [Judkins snores.] 
 
 M. — He 's not very wide awake at any rate. 
 
 F.—Vi&zx old gentleman! Would you believe it, 
 Frank? He has written a private letter to Mr. Drum- 
 mond, telling him our whole story, and requesting 
 that your appointment may be confirmed. 
 
 M. — Has he indeed? What a jolly old budzart it 
 is! 
 
 F. — But listen, Frank. The answer has not come 
 yet, and before it arrives -we shall be at Agra, and 
 you far away at some out-station, making horrid 
 bridges that will all tumble down next rainy season. 
 Ah me! What an unlucky girl I am! 
 
 M. — No, you are not, Fanny. An unlucky girl 
 never has a devoted lover with hopes of a pucka 
 appointment. I don't intend that you shall leave the 
 District until Mr. Drummond's answer comes. 
 Don't you remember that I expressed to you my 
 apprehension lest your bearers should strike work 
 opposite the mango-tope beyond the eighth mile- 
 stone on the Agra road ; in which case your mother 
 and you would be forced to take shelter in our camp? 
 Well ! That apprehension has since been converted 
 into a horrible certainty. 
 
 F. — Good Heavens, Frank, do you mean to say 
 that you have bribed the bearers? 
 
 M. — There! there! Don't speak so loud! Think 
 on the enormity of the misdemeanour you have im- 
 puted to me. What would the " Englishman " say 
 if it heard than an English official had been instigat- 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 217 
 
 ing natives to violate a contract after receiving a 
 consideration? Conceive the tone of the leading 
 article that would infallibly be written. " It is con- 
 fidently asserted that a young gentleman in the 
 Public Works Department, who, though not a Civil- 
 ian himself, has been so long under Civilian influence 
 as to be imbued with the traditional policy of the 
 class, has, in virtue of his high authority, used under- 
 hand means to induce the palkee-bearers " — Good 
 Heavens, here 's your mother! [They start apart. \ 
 
 Enter Mrs. Smart. 
 Mrs. S. — What do I see? Fanny, have you no 
 delicacy, no retenue? If I turn my back for ten min- 
 utes you disobey my positive orders, throw to the 
 winds my maternal authority, and openly encourage 
 the advances of an acting officer. And you. Sir, — 
 do you consider it manly to presume on the un- 
 fortunate chance which has thrown you once more 
 of necessity into our society? You allow me no 
 choice. I must fling myself on the protection of the 
 other visitors at the bungalow. Here is one asleep 
 on a chair. Whoever he is, he has the heart of an 
 Englishman, and will not see me insulted by a 
 profligate who is not even pucka. Sir, I appeal to 
 you. \Twitches the handkerchief off Judkins' face, 
 •mho rises, and confronts her.] Mr. Judkins! So you 
 are the person who has arranged a meeting for these 
 two young people to come off under your auspices! 
 So you are the go-between in this precious love- 
 affair! So this match is to be oiyour making! So, 
 
2i8 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 Mr. Judkins, after robbing me and Mr. Smart of 
 our peace, you intend to rob us of our daughter! 
 
 J. — Good gracious, Mrs. Smart, I have no idea 
 what you are driving at. All I know about the 
 matter is that I was enjoying a very sweet dream, 
 and that I have awoke to an exceeding unpleasant 
 reality. 
 
 Mrs.S. [curtsies.'] — O, Mr. Judkins, youare pleased 
 to be sarcastic. Would you, however, if you can for 
 a few moments rein in your satire, tell me in plain 
 words why you thought fit to sanction by your 
 presence an interview between my daughter and a 
 young man of whom you know well I disapprove? 
 
 J. — Well, Mrs. Smart, I can only repeat that I 
 was aroused from a slumber, such as only the inno- 
 cent can enjoy, to find myself in the presence of two 
 people looking very shy, and one looking very 
 angry. That is all the part I have had in the affair. 
 Not that I should have objected to play Friar Law- 
 rence to so dashing a Romeo and so sweet a Juliet. 
 [Bows to Fanny.] 
 
 Mrs. S. — Well, upon my word, Mr. Judkins! 
 Upon my word ! Perhaps you won't call a daughter 
 of mine names, though she has descended below 
 herself on this occasion. 
 
 J. — After all, Mrs. Smart, I am surprised that you 
 do not consider your daughter honoured by the at- 
 tentions of so fine a young fellow. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Mr. Judkins, / have principles. It is not 
 for nothing that I trace my origin on either side from 
 old Indian families. I thank heaven that / have been 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 219 
 
 brought up to know the difference between pucka 
 and cutcha appointments. 
 
 J. — I have no doubt you do, Mrs. Smart; I have 
 no doubt you do ; and I have no doubt either that 
 when you retire from the service Sir Charles Wood 
 will at once offer you a seat in the Indian Council. 
 
 Mrs. S. — That, I suppose, would be considered 
 wit at the Board of Revenue : a Board of which you 
 doubtless count upon becoming the most brilliant 
 light. You are an ornament to your line of the 
 Service, Mr. Judkins; you are indeed. 
 
 y.— My line ! Bless the woman ! My line ! Well, 
 whatever it may be, I cannot say it has at present 
 fallen to me in a pleasant place. 
 
 Enter Susan, with tray. Sets it down on table. 
 
 Susan. — Never mind him. Ma'am. I've made a 
 nice basin of soup for you and Miss Fanny. After 
 your long journey you won't be right again till 
 you've had something to eat. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Well, Mr. Judkins, I am sorry that I 
 so far forgot myself as to address you. Come, Fanny, 
 and take your tiffin. Thank heaven, it is the last 
 meal we shall eat in the same room with the present 
 company. [Mrs. Smart and Fanny sit down at 
 the table.] 
 
 Enter Khansaumaun with dinner. 
 K. — Khana tyar hi, Sahib.^ 
 
 ' " Dinner is ready, Sahib." 
 
220 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 J. — Khansaumaun, palanpurkhanarucko.* Come, 
 Marsden, we must rough it a little to accommodate 
 the ladies. [Aside.] Horrid old woman! I should 
 like to accommodate her into the middle of next 
 week. [JuDKiNS and Marsden s-ii down at the bed.] 
 Marsden, I feel a little out of sorts. A cup of tea 
 might do us both good. Ho, Khansaumaun ! Chah 
 banno ! ^ 
 
 Mrs. ^.— Well, I never! Tea for tiffin! What 
 would an official of the good old school say if he 
 heard a Mofussil Commissioner ordering tea for 
 tiffin? Tea, indeed! Ho, Khansaumaun, beer shrub 
 lao! 
 
 /. — This moorghee is plaguy tough. Ho, Khan- 
 saumaun, aur kooch hai?' 
 
 ^. — Sahib, curry bat hai. 
 
 y. — O, bother curry bat ! It 's only the old moor- 
 ghee under another shape. We'll have some eggs 
 with our tea. Ho, Khansaumaun, unda lao, toast 
 banno. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Tea, toast, and boiled eggs ! There 's a 
 tiffin for a Covenanted Servant of five-and-twenty 
 years' standing! Fancy a Senior Merchant* going 
 without his curry bat. Ho ! curry bat do ! 
 
 y. — Well, I should have thought that the temper 
 of some people was hot enough already without 
 requiring to be warmed by curry. 
 
 ' "Steward, put the dinner on the bed." 
 ^ " Make some tea. " " " Is there an5rthing else?" 
 
 * In days gone by the Company's servants were classed as 
 Senior Merchants, Junior Merchants, and Writers. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 221 
 
 Mrs. S. — Fanny, I repent more and more having 
 been betrayed into an altercation with that man. 
 However, I am resolved never to address another 
 word to him. 
 
 /. — For these and all his mercies make us truly 
 thankful ! 
 
 Mrs. S. [siaris 2^^.]— What is that. Sir? What is 
 this last piece of insolence to which you have given 
 vent? 
 
 y. [without turning. \ — I was only saying grace after 
 meat, or rather after moorghee. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Your brutality. Sir, is only equalled by 
 your impiety. 
 
 J. — Pray sit down, Mrs. Smart. I have no in- 
 tention of betraying you into a second altercation. 
 
 Mrs.S. [sits down.] — Monster! Fanny, would that 
 we were out of this dreadful place I 
 
 J. — The agreeableness of places generally de- 
 pends on the state of our tempers. For my part, this 
 bungalow seems quite a paradise. Thank Providence 
 for having endowed me with an imperturbable tran- 
 quillity ! 
 
 Mrs. S. — Hem ! Fanny, did you hear what your 
 papa said to the Lieutenant-Governor about the in- 
 efficiency of Revenue officers when concerned with 
 a question of law? He told Mr. Drummond that 
 during the past year, in a certain Division, there was 
 not one in ten of the Commissioner's decisions which 
 would not have been reversed before the most 
 ordinary tribunal. 
 J. [starts up.] — To what Division did he refer. 
 
222 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 Mrs. Smart? If he alluded to Budgemahal, he was 
 knowingly guilty of a vile calumny. 
 
 Mrs. S. [without turning.] — Pray sit down, Mr. 
 Judkins. I have no desire of being betrayed into a 
 second altercation. 
 
 J. — Mrs. Smart, whoever uttered that falsehood 
 was capable of anything : even of marrying a low, 
 uneducated, up-country-bred wife. 
 
 Mrs. S. {starts up.] — Mr. Judkins, my father en- 
 joyed the highest Judicial appointments in the 
 Covenanted Service; and my dear mother was 
 grand-daughter to the first Judge of the first settled 
 district in Bengal, Behar, and Orissa. No member 
 of our family ever dabbled in Revenue. 
 
 /.—Ha! Ha! Ha! My dear Mrs. Smart, your 
 mother's brother ended his career as Sub-collector 
 of Shahabad ; and devilish glad he was to get the 
 appointment. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Go on, Mr. Judkins ; pray go on. Thank 
 heaven, / was brought up among people who knew 
 the difference between pucka and cutcha appoint- 
 ments. 
 
 J. — Mrs. Smart, the last place which your father 
 held was that of Acting Magistrate at Jessore: — 
 Acting Magistrate, do you hear, Mrs. Smart? 
 
 Mrs. S. — Base man, you never uttered a more 
 contemptible slander: — a slander worthy of one who 
 gained his present position by acting as stalking- 
 horse to his Lieutenant-Governor. 
 
 J. — Mrs. Smart! Who schemed to get the 
 Governor-General's Aide-de-Camp for her daughter? 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 223 
 
 Mrs. S. — Mr. Judkins ! Who refused to subscribe 
 to the new church on the pretext that the padre was 
 a humbug? 
 
 J. — Who asked the Station to dinner, and allowed 
 only one glass of simkin ' to each guest, — eh, Mrs. 
 Smart? 
 
 Mrs. 5".— Who tried to lead off the District Ball, 
 and didn't know his steps, — eh, Mr. Judkins? 
 
 [They both speak at once. Curtain falls. 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Outside the Commissioner's Tent. Table and Chairs 
 at one side of the Stage. 
 
 £nter ]vT)Kit^s frotn tent, in dressing-gown. 
 J. — Well! I'm all the better for a good night. I 
 always manage to sleep sound in camp. Now for a 
 bath. Ho, Bheestie ! ° This is a very pleasant camp- 
 ing ground ; but I wonder why Marsden insisted so 
 strongly on our stopping here instead of going on 
 to Bunderbustgunge. Whatever I said, he would 
 have it that there was nothing like the mango tope 
 just beyond the eighth mile-stone on the Agra road. 
 The eighth mile-stone on the Agra road! Young 
 men are not, generally speaking, so accurate about 
 the number of their mile-stones. However, he 's a 
 
 ' Champagne. = Bath-man. 
 
224 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 dear boy, and I always humour him. [Enter Mars- 
 DEN.J I say, young shaver, what makes you so 
 particular about the eighth mile-stone on the Agra 
 road? I wish now that we had pushed on to Bunder- 
 bustgunge. 
 
 M. — Well, my dear Sir, I'll make a confession. 
 You must know that I have received information 
 which leads me to suppose that Mrs. Smart's bearers 
 will strike work somewhere near this spot. 
 
 y^ — You have received information which leads 
 you to suppose ! You unscrupulous young villain ! 
 Well! I presume that you intend to saddle me with 
 the women for the rest of the day? 
 
 M. — Such, I blush to say, is my intention. Now, 
 my dear Sir, will you do me a great — a very great 
 favour? Will you be very civil to Mrs. Smart? 
 [JuDKiNS shakes his head.] For my sake and for 
 Fanny's, Mr. Judkins! 
 
 /. — Well! Well! the woman will be out of the 
 country in another day. I promise to be as polite to 
 her as she will allow me to be. But here 's the 
 bheestie. 
 
 Enter Bheestie -mith mater-skin. Exeunt Judkins 
 and Bheestie into tent. 
 
 M. — Now for the pleasantest hour of the twenty- 
 four. Ho, Sirdar ! Chah lao ! ' [Enter Cholmon- 
 DELEY, in hunting costume, followed by Abdool.] 
 The top of the morning to you, Mr. Cholmondeley. 
 
 ' " Bring my tea." 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 225 
 
 C. — Fine morning this. [Aside.] Whata damned 
 foolish observation ! It always is a fine morning in 
 India. 
 
 M. — Are you ready for some chota hasaree?^ 
 
 C. — Chota hasaree! What's chota hasaree? 
 
 M. — Why the meal I'm taking at the present 
 moment. 
 
 C. — O, begad! They call that down in Madras 
 "early tea." So "chota hasaree "is " early tea." 
 
 M.—]nstso. "Chota" "early"; "hazaree" "tea." 
 
 C— O! "Chota" is "early," is it? Well, that 
 accounts for the assistant-magistrate being termed 
 the Chota Sahib. He gets up early to go to Cut- 
 cherry,^ while the collector lies in bed to wait till 
 the appeals come in. I'll put that down. {Writes.] 
 
 M. — You've hit it. But here come the papers. 
 What an old brick Judkins is for taking in such a 
 packet of them! The " Hurkaru " as usual. An 
 article comparing Sir Charles Wood to Nero, and 
 Sir Mordaunt Wells to Aristides. Very pretty read- 
 ing for rabid Anglo-Saxons ! And here 's the "Delhi 
 Punch"! I did hope we had marched out of the 
 region within which circulates that melancholy 
 periodical. After all, there 's nothing like the 
 " Englishman." What 's the news, Cholmondeley? 
 [Sips his tea.] 
 
 C. — Let's see. [Reads.] " Latest from America. 
 — The Federals under Meade attacked Lee's position 
 on the morning of the i8th, and after three days' 
 
 ' Literally, "little breakfast." 
 ' Court. 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 hard fighting were forced to recross the Rappahan- 
 nock after losing fifteen thousand men." "Latest 
 from Furruckabad. — There is no truth in the report 
 that Lieutenant Smith, of the Engineers, is about 
 to avail himself of some days' leave." H'm! h'm! 
 h'm ! {Splashing heard inside the tent. 
 
 M. — There's the old boy having his mussuck.' 
 
 C. [reads.] — "The 'Nubia' arrived at Garden 
 Reach on the 12th instant. Passengers — Mr. Wil- 
 liams, B.C.S., Captain James, B.N.L, Mrs. James, 
 Miss Prettyman." H'm! h'm! h'm! "Married, on 
 the fifteenth instant, at the Cathedral, John Williams, 
 Collector and Magistrate of Mozufferpore, to Alicia, 
 eleventh daughter of the late Ebenezer Prettyman 
 of the Bengal Civil Service." Quick work that, — eh, 
 Mr. Marsden? 
 
 M. — Oh, nothing out of the way. But might I 
 ask why you are got up in that style? 
 
 C. — I'm going out for my first day's hog-hunting. 
 [Enter JvDKiNS.] Good morning, Mr. Judkins. I'm 
 off to cover side. 
 
 y^.— Well, let me give you a piece of advice. Don't 
 you go mistaking tame pigs for wild. If you see a 
 fellow with a straight tail, whip him through the 
 body; but if you come across a curly-tailed chap, 
 fight shy of him. He 's being fed up for the Agri- 
 cultural Exhibition at Alipore. But the sun is get- 
 ting powerful, and I must be going inside the tent. 
 I wish you good sport. [Exit Judkins into tent. 
 
 M. — Good-bye, Cholmondeley. Don't forget; the 
 • Water-skin. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 227 
 
 wild pigs have curly tails. Curly tails, remember! 
 You'll get into no end of trouble if you kill a fellow 
 with a straight tail. \ExU Marsden. 
 
 A. — Master plenty great shikaree.^ Master go 
 kill plenty pig. I stay 'tome. Make good master's 
 clothes. 
 
 C. — Yes. You stay at home, Abdool. Have some 
 coffee ready for me when I come back. Take care 
 of my things. 
 
 A. \aside.\ — Ha! ha! I take care of master's spirit 
 chest. Cognac shrub, plenty nice drink. I got no 
 caste. I plenty good Christian. Drink plenty rum. 
 Do no work Sunday. Them my Thirty-nine Article- 
 icle-icles. \Exit Abdool. 
 
 C.— Now I'll be off. Holloa! What the deuce is 
 the row now? Here 's the European lady's-maid. 
 
 Enter Susan. 
 
 Susan. — O! thank goodness, here's a belattee 
 Christian man! O, Sir! O, Mr, Chimbly! Here's 
 such a dreadful business! 
 
 C. — Why, bless my soul, young woman, what 
 ever is the matter? 
 
 Susan. — Why, Sir, — would you believe it? — as 
 soon as ever we came opposite that there mangel- 
 wurzel tope the bearers put down the palkees with a 
 bang, and cut and run into the jungle. O my poor 
 mistress! My poor mistress ! 
 
 Enter Mrs. Smart and Fanny. 
 Mrs. S. — O, dear me, Fanny, what shall we do? 
 ' Sportsman. 
 
228 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 I never was in such a position. Here we are in the 
 full heat of the sun, four coss from the last dawk 
 bungalow, and the Lord only knows how many from 
 the next. 
 
 F. — Yes, mamma, what shall we do? O! what 
 could have induced the bearers to behave so? 
 
 {Pretends to cry. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Bless my heart, there 's Mr. Cholmon- 
 deley. O! Mr. Cholmondeley! I am so glad to see 
 you. Those budmashes ^ who were carrying our 
 palkees have run away into the tope. We had only 
 three coss to go, and we should have met a pair of 
 tum-tums" which would have taken us on to the 
 Grand Trunk Road, where my husband was to have 
 met us with a two-horse gharee.^ I had made such 
 an utcha bunderbust* 
 
 C. — My dear Madam ! My dear Madam ! Are you 
 sure you perceive the full extent of your misfortune? 
 I am convinced that there is more in this than you 
 think. Mere ryots would never have arrived at such 
 a pitch of insolence unless they had been aware that 
 a mutiny was imminent. We are on the eve of an- 
 other outbreak. Did you observe whether the men 
 called out "Deen! Deen!"° as they ran into the 
 jungle? 
 
 Mrs. S. — Good heavens, Mr. Cholmondeley, how 
 should Hindoo ryots call out "Deen! Deen!" I 
 
 ' Mauvais sujets. ' Dog-carts. ' Carriage. 
 
 * Excellent arrangement. 
 
 5 "The Faith ! The Faith ! " The rallying cry of the Mahom- 
 medans. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 229 
 
 should as soon expect to meet Dr. Pusey walking 
 up and down the High Street of Oxford, bawling 
 out "No Popery!" 
 
 C. — Now, Mrs. Smart, do be advised, and make 
 a timely retreat. At such a crisis hesitation is death. 
 Allow me to conduct you to the nearest military 
 station. I will hold Miss Smart before me on the 
 horse's neck, while you ride on the crupper with 
 your arms round my waist. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Ride to the nearest military station with 
 my arms round your waist! Why, people would 
 think we were the last elopement from Simla. 
 
 C. — We will pursue our way at night. You shall 
 hide in the jungle during the day, and I will repair 
 to the neighbouring villages disguised as a fakeer. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Nonsense, Sir. You won't find it so easy 
 to frighten an old Mofussil lady. The truth of the 
 matter is that I was foolish enough to pay these 
 budmashes beforehand, and they have thrown me 
 over. I must have been an idiot to do it! 
 
 C. — O, that quite alters the business, Mrs. Smart. 
 This is a clear case of Wilful Breach of Contract. 
 'Pon honour, Mrs. Smart, I believe it comes within 
 the scope of the clauses of Mr. Maine's new Bill. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Well, I dare say it does: but I don't see 
 how that will help us: unless, indeed, Mr. Maine 
 would go into the next village and beat up for coolies. 
 But what do you advise, Mr. Cholmondeley? 
 
 C. — Well, Mrs. Smart, I should advise you to 
 institute a civil suit at once; and, meanwhile, I will 
 press the Government at home to pass a modified 
 
230 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 Criminal Contract Bill. I will engage to do that 
 much for you, Mrs. Smart. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Bless me, Sir, if you have no wiser 
 suggestion to make you had better choop. A modi- 
 fied Criminal Contract Bill, indeed! 
 
 C— Well, it appears that I can't be of much use 
 in this quarter. I shall mount and be off. Good-bye, 
 Mrs. Smart. Good-bye, Miss Smart. [Aside.] Let 
 me see! The tame pig has a straight tail, and the 
 wild pig a curly tail. I'll take good care to keep that 
 in my head. [Exti Cholmondeley. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Well, Fanny, there 's an ooloo-ke-but- 
 cha ^ for you. He'll never set the Hooghly on fire. I 
 wish we could see some sensible, good-natured man 
 who knows the country. Dear me ! What with the 
 heat and vexation, I am quite overcome. I never 
 was out in the sun so late before. Dear me ! What 
 ever shall I do? [Cries.] I wish somebody would 
 come to our assistance. What would I give to see 
 a Civilian, — or — a military man, — or — or — or — an 
 Uncovenanted Servant, or — or — or — or — or — or — 
 an interloper. 
 
 Enter Marsden. 
 
 M. — What do I see? Mrs. Smart, and in tears! 
 I hope and trust no accident has happened to your 
 party. Can I be of any service to you? 
 
 Mrs. S. — Oh, Sir, we are in great trouble on ac- 
 count of the dishonesty of our bearers, who have 
 taken to their heels, and left the palkees in the mid- 
 dle of the road some hundred yards from hence. 
 ^ Son of an owl. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 231 
 
 M. — Dear me ! I am very much concerned. What 
 a set of rascals ! I trust, Madam, that you have re- 
 ceived no injury. 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside. ] — Upon my word he is a very polite 
 young man. I begin to wish he was pucka. [Aloud. ] 
 No, Sir, we have received no injury, but a great 
 deal of inconvenience. We have still three coss to 
 travel before we reach the tum-tums. 
 
 M. — Oh, in that case, pray do not trouble your- 
 self. I shall have great pleasure in driving you on 
 your way in our gharee: that is to say, if you will 
 permit me to have the honour of so doing. 
 
 Mrs. S. [aside.] — He certainly is most courteous. I 
 do wish he was pucka. [Aloud.] Oh, Sir, many, 
 many thanks. Under the circumstances, I shall have 
 great pleasure in accepting your very kind offer. 
 
 M. — I am sure, Mrs. Smart, yourself and your 
 daughter must have been shaken by this contretemps. 
 Would you do us the honour of taking some rest 
 and refreshment in the tent? 
 
 Mrs. S. [aside.] — He is really a delightful young 
 man. I begin not to care whether he is pucka or 
 cutcha. [Aloud.] Sir, I am deeply obliged to you, 
 but I cannot consent to receive the hospitality of Mr. 
 Judkins. I prefer remaining here. [Opens her um- 
 brella. ] 
 
 M. [sighs.] — Ah, Madam, you little know how 
 deeply wounded would be the heart of that gentle- 
 man could he hear the sentiment to which you have 
 given utterance. His exterior is rough, but he is 
 sound at core. You will hardly believe me when I 
 
232 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 tell you that he lay awake half the night regretting 
 the intemperate language which he used in your 
 presence. 
 
 Mrs. S. — And well he might, Mr. Marsden:— 
 well he might. However, I am glad that he is sorry. 
 
 M. — And, Mrs. Smart, you must allow me to say 
 that you are unfair towards him. If you knew him 
 better, your opinion of him would be very different. 
 About three o'clock this morning I was awoke by 
 hearing him sigh. I asked him whether he had a 
 touch of liver, or whether the mosquitoes troubled 
 him. "No, Marsden," said he, "I was reflecting 
 on my unhappy fortune in having parted in anger 
 with a lady whom I so cordially respect as" the last 
 existing specimen of the good old Anglo-Indian 
 style,—" 
 
 Mrs. 5.— Did he say that? 
 
 M. — "That style which went out with the old 
 Company, — " 
 
 Mrs S. — Upon my honour! 
 
 M. — "A lady who is daughter, sister, and wife 
 of Sudder Judges." 
 
 Mrs. S. — Really, now! 
 
 M. — ' ' Marsden, " he said, ' ' how that woman will 
 shine in Chowringhee when Smart goes to Calcutta 
 to take his seat in the Supreme Council." 
 
 Mrs. S. — Poor Mr. Judkins ! His head was turned 
 by his appointment to Budgemahal, but his heart 
 is in the right place. 
 
 M. — I knew that you would come to think so, 
 Mrs. Smart. But he is coming out of the tent. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 233 
 
 Pray, Mrs. Smart, receive him with cordiality. He 
 is dreadfully depressed. [Aside.] He looks like it. 
 
 Enter Judkins. 
 
 J. — Mrs. Smart, my servants have informed me 
 how scandalously you have been treated by your 
 bearers. I can assure you that the budmashes shall 
 receive their deserts. 
 
 Mrs. S. — I have no doubt that everything will 
 be done which justice can demand. 
 
 y.— Yes, Mrs. Smart, budmashes have a bad time 
 of it in my division. In 1857 I was the terror of all 
 the disaffected villagers for a hundred miles round. 
 The wives of sepoys used to silence their children 
 with the dreaded name of Judkins. The people of 
 of those parts long will tell how, on the information 
 that a mutineer was concealed in a neighbouring 
 jungle, I turned out with my elephants and horses ; 
 how I marched night and day for eleven consecutive 
 hours; how I surrounded the lair of the fugitive 
 with a cordon of burkundazzes ; ' how I advanced 
 into the thicket, accompanied by the slender escort 
 of three thannadars^ and a tipsy darogah;^ how 
 fiercely I flung myself on my prey, — 
 
 Mrs S. — And how you hung him, I suppose, Mr. 
 Judkins? 
 
 /. — Well, Mrs. Smart, to tell you the truth, he 
 turned out to be a bunnya," who had concealed him- 
 self for fear of the disbanded sepoys. But I trust 
 
 ' Policemen. ^ Sergeants. 
 
 ^ Inspector. * Shopkeeper. 
 
234 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 you and Miss Smart will repose yourselves in my 
 tent while the gharee is getting ready. Breakfast 
 will be on the table in half an hour. I should feel 
 highly honoured if you would share our meal. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Sir, I shall have the greatest pleasure. 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Smart, Fanny, and Maid 
 into tent. 
 
 M. — Why, Sir, how seductive your manners 
 have become all of a sudden ! you have talked over 
 the old lady already. But what is the meaning of 
 all this bobbery? [Noise heard. 
 
 Enter Cholmondeley, in the custody of two Bengal 
 police, and followed by a ryot. 
 
 J. — Mr. Cholmondeley! in Heaven's name what 
 has happened? I trust you have not had what the 
 Hurkaru calls "an unfortunate collision with a 
 native:" — a collision in which, somehow or other, 
 the native always comes off the worst. 
 
 Ryot. — Hussoor, Sahib ne hamara soor marra 
 hai?^ 
 
 C. — Upon my honour, Mr. Judkins, I have not 
 the slightest idea what my crime may be. All I 
 know is that my beaters started a fine hog, which I 
 rode down and speared. While I was engaged in 
 cutting off his head as a trophy, this native fellow 
 came up and made a great noise, calling out some- 
 thing about "hamara soor," and " foujdaree." ^ 
 
 J. — Well! how did you reply? 
 
 * " Please your worship, the gentleman has killed my pig." 
 ^ Justice. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 235 
 
 C. — Why, I said "Jungly soor doom," and held 
 my finger out like that. {Crooks his finger.] On 
 which he said " Nahin, Sahib, jungly soor ke doom 
 seder hai.^ {Straightens his finger.] 
 
 _/.— What did you say to that? 
 
 C. — Why, I told him to stop his noise, or I would 
 give him a thrashing. 
 
 yi— Well, what next? 
 
 C. — Why, he called in these two peelers, who 
 happened to be passing, and they brought me here 
 like a condemned felon. 
 
 J. — Well, the question is, whether the pig was 
 tame or wild. 
 
 C. — Mr. Judkins, I may be a young pig-sticker, 
 but I am too old a sportsman to make such a mis- 
 take as that. However, to convince you, I have 
 brought away the tail. {Holds out a curly tail.] 
 
 J. — My dear Sir, if pigs are tame in proportion 
 to the curliness of their tails, this is the most civil- 
 ized animal of the sort I ever came across. 
 
 C. — But, happily, as pigs are tame in inverse 
 proportion to the curliness of their tails, this must 
 be the wildest hog in all the North-West. 
 
 J. — Mr. Cholmondeley, you are under a fatal 
 mistake. Wild pigs have straight tails, and tame 
 pigs curly ones. 
 
 C. {clasps his hands before his face.] — Undone ! 
 Undone! 
 
 J. — Well, Mr. Cholmondeley, you certainly have 
 committed a misdemeanour; but I don't know un- 
 ^ " No, Sir, a wild pig's tail is like this." 
 
236 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 der what head it comes in the Penal Code. [Judkins 
 takes up the " Code."'\ I'll look through the index. 
 Let me see. "Housebreaking by night." Your of- 
 ence can hardly be said to come under that section. 
 " Idiot, — Act of, when no offence." But you're not 
 an idiot. [u4j?fi?e.] He's only a fool. "Landmark, — 
 Diminishing usefulness of one fixed by public serv- 
 ant." You certainly have diminished the usefulness 
 of a pig, but that animal is not a landmark fixed by 
 a public servant. " Lieutenant-Governor, — Assault 
 on." " Member of Council, — Attempt to overawe." 
 This looks more like it: " Mischief,— Punishment 
 for, when simple. By exhibiting false light or 
 mark to mislead navigators." "By causing in- 
 undation or obstructing drainage." That won't do. 
 Oh, here it is: "Whoever commits mischief by 
 killing, poisoning, maiming, or rendering useless 
 any animal or animals of the value of ten rupees or 
 upwards, shall be punished with imprisonment of 
 either description for a term which may extend to 
 two years, or five, or both." Ho, you! Tumarar 
 soor ke dam kitna hai?^ 
 
 Ryot. — Eck sou rupea. Sahib. ^ 
 
 J. — There, Cholmondeley, you are liable to 
 imprisonment of either description for a term of 
 two years, or five, or both. Which will you 
 take? You may as well have both while you're 
 about it. 
 
 C. — O Lord! This is a dreadful business. Mr. 
 
 ^ " What is your pig worth ? " 
 ^ " One hundred rupees Sir." 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 237 
 
 Judkins, for heaven's sake arrange it somehow. 
 Why did I come out to this awful country? 
 
 J. — Well, I'll try. Atcha, Sahib teen rupea toom 
 ko dagabuss.^ 
 
 Ryot. — Nahin, Sahib, dega teen rupea ath anna.^ 
 
 J. — Here, Cholmondeley, give this fellow three 
 rupees and a half, and he'll say no more about it. 
 
 C. — Lord, what influence you local officers have 
 over the natives ! [Pays the money. '\ Thank heaven ! 
 I'm out of that. [-Exeunt natwes. 
 
 J. — Now, Marsden, we'll go in to the ladies. 
 Breakfast must be ready by this time. You'll join 
 us soon, I hope, Mr. Cholmondeley. 
 
 [Exeunt Judkins and Marsden into tent. 
 
 C. — This unlucky business has quite taken away 
 my appetite for India. I'm hanged if I don't go 
 home by the next boat, and make my arrangements 
 for bringing Sir Charles Wood to book. I 'm re- 
 solved never to come out here again, not even as 
 Governor-General. Hulloa! There goes that rascal 
 Abdool as drunk as an engine-driver on the East 
 Indian Railway. [Exit, calling to Abdool. 
 
 Enter Judkins and Mrs. Smart. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Well, Mr. Judkins, I consider that we 
 were very fortunate in having met with our disaster. 
 We have been most magnificently entertained. 
 
 J. — You are very good to say so. 
 
 Mrs. S. — That vegetable curry was excellent. Of 
 
 ' " Look here. The Sahib will give you three rupees." 
 ^ "Ah ! Sahib, give me three rupees eight annas." 
 
238 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 course your cook is a Mug?' What do you give 
 him? 
 
 J. — Well, Mrs. Smart, he used to get eighteen, 
 but now I cut him two rupees. I told him that it 
 would never do for domestic servants to get the 
 same, now that Civil Servants are being cut all 
 round. Hang these reductions, Mrs. Smart! Hang 
 these reductions ! The Civil Service will soon cease 
 to be a decent provision for the cadet in the family 
 of a thriving greengrocer. 
 
 Mrs. S. — Yes, you and I have lived to see sad 
 changes, Mr. Judkins. I remember the days when 
 every servant in my house was a Government 
 chuprassie,^ with the exception of the khansaumaun 
 and a Portuguese ayah. Now we think ourselves 
 well provided if we have some six fellows, who 
 grumble if they are told to carry a chit ' or take the 
 children a walk. 
 
 J. — Yes, Mrs. Smart, times are altered. Times 
 are altered. 
 
 Mrs. S. — They are indeed, Mr. Judkins. But do 
 you know that Mr. Marsden reminds me of the good 
 old style more than any young man whom I have 
 met for years? He has quite the manners of the best 
 set among the Junior Factors a quarter of a century 
 ago. 
 
 J. — Ah, Madam, I wish you could bring yourself 
 
 ' A native of Arracan, whence the best cooks come. 
 ^ Messengers. In old days these officers were very generally 
 employed for domestic purposes. 
 ' A note. 
 
THE DAWK BUNGALOW 239 
 
 to look more kindly on his suit, both for his sake 
 and for Fanny's. It is impossible to avoid seeing 
 that she will never be happy with anyone else. 
 
 Mrs. 5".— Well, I am not opposed to the marriage 
 on mercenary grounds. He is low down in the Ser- 
 vice; but that matters little at his age. A clever 
 Assistant-Magistrate is a better match than a foolish 
 Collector with Full Powers. But, Mr. Judkins, I am 
 a woman of principle. I cannot and will not give 
 my daughter to a man whose appointment is not 
 pucka. 
 
 Enter Trooper. 
 
 Trooper. — Commissioner Sahib ke waste chittee 
 hai. {^Presents a letter, — Judkins reads.\ 
 
 J. — Here, Marsden! Fanny! All the world! Come 
 out here, everybody ! O yes ! O yes ! Listen all good 
 people! — "The Lieutenant-Governor, having re- 
 ceivedinformationthatthebridgeovertheRotawaddy 
 nullah, built by Lieutenant Marsden, of the Bengal 
 Native Infantry, Acting-Assistant-Sub-Deputy-In- 
 spector of Bridges in the Public Works Department, 
 stood during a whole fortnight of the rains, and then 
 only gave way in one arch, desires to express his 
 satisfaction in the conduct of that officer by confirm- 
 ing his appointment." Frank, I congratulate you. 
 Come, young fellow, go and thank the powerful 
 friend to whom you owe the appointment. There 
 she stands. \Points to Fanny.] 
 
 M. — I must first request Mrs. Smart to inform 
 me whether the gulf which separates me from her 
 
240 THE DAWK BUNGALOW 
 
 daughter is bridged over as well as the Rotawaddy 
 nullah? 
 
 Mrs. S. — Well, Mr. Marsden, you have now my 
 leave to say what you like to Fanny. 
 
 M. — Fanny, I am cutcha no longer. May I be- 
 come a Covenanted Servant in the sweetest sense? 
 [Kisses her hand.] 
 
 Mrs. S. — Well, it seems that you will not have 
 much difficulty in that quarter. 
 
 y. — But what will Mr. Smart say to it? 
 
 Mrs. S. — O, pray don't trouble yourselves about 
 that. Mr. Smart does not play the Sudder Judge 
 in his own family, [Coming- forward.] And now 
 only one thing remains. Whatever may have been 
 the merits of our acting, the performance must be 
 cutcha unless you confirm it with your applause. 
 Will you pass an order to that effect? As to the 
 stage, scenery, and dresses, we have done our best, 
 and the Lieutenant-Governor his kindest; and we 
 trust that we may with confidence ask the vital 
 question, — " Were the appointments pucka?" [Cur- 
 tain/alls.] 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 1866 
 
 R 
 
IN the autumn of 1865, after the General Election, 
 the author was under engagement to join some 
 friends who were yachting in Greek waters. On 
 reaching Italy, however, he found cholera at Brindisi 
 and Ancona, Trieste and Venice; a circumstance 
 which would involve a long period of quarantine at 
 any port of disembarkation on the opposite shore of 
 the Adriatic. He accordingly gave up his project 
 of a tour in Greece, and came home through Ger- 
 many; hearing on the way of the death of Lord 
 Palmerston, whom he had been elected to support, 
 but with whom he never had the honour of sitting 
 in Parliament. 
 
 The author had arranged with the Literary and 
 Philosophical Societies of Edinburgh, and New- 
 castle-on-Tyne, to deliver, after returning from 
 Greece, a discourse on his experiences and observa- 
 tions in that country. The paper, to which these few 
 lines are a preface, was prepared, and graciously ac- 
 cepted by both those distinguished audiences, as a 
 substitute for the promised lecture. 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 Our own poets have described, far too minutely to 
 need repetition here, the charms and glories of 
 Grecian scenery: — the chains of lofty peaks, their 
 summits crowned with snow, and their lower slopes 
 clad with dwarf-oak and arbutus ; — the valleys run- 
 ning from the shore into the heart of the mountains ; 
 — the bold headlands alternating with shady creeks, 
 the haunt of nymphs in the days of Hesiod, and the 
 lair of pirates in the days of Byron. This fair region 
 is now for the most part deserted and neglected, 
 brown and arid from the disuse of artificial irriga- 
 tion. The traveller paces across the market-place 
 of Sparta revolver in hand, and with side-long 
 glances into the bushes that fringe his path; and 
 amidst the ruins of Thebes the sportsman may shoot 
 in a forenoon woodcocks enough to make the for- 
 tune often Norfolk battues. But it was not so always. 
 There was once another and far different Greece, 
 which can no longer be visited by steamer, and 
 diligence, and railway, and which can be viewed only 
 through the medium of her own eternal literature. 
 In the old time every one of those valleys swarmed 
 with cattle, and blushed with orchards, and glowed 
 
246 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 with harvests. Every one of those innumerable 
 creeks was the site of some proud city, whose name, 
 and history, and legendary lore are familiar to the 
 British school-boy long before he can name within 
 fifty miles the locality of one in three among the 
 great seats of industry enfranchised by the bill of 
 Mr. Disraeli. 
 
 Each of these cities was a little state in itself, 
 governed by its own laws, its own interests, and its 
 own traditions. It is difficult for the member of a 
 great European nation to realize such a condition of 
 things. These notable communities, whose names 
 have been household words to the educated men of 
 fourscore generations, — Argosand Mycenae, Corinth 
 and Megara, — were mere parishes compared with 
 the smallest kingdoms of our epoch ; mere bits of 
 territory, seven, ten, or fifteen miles square, with a 
 walled town planted somewhere towards the centre 
 of the region. Athens was the most populous among 
 the whole cluster of Grecian states, and the Athenian 
 citizens who were capable of bearing arms in the 
 field numbered only sixteen thousand in the days of 
 Pericles. She was by far more opulent than any of 
 her neighbours ; and yet her public revenue at no 
 time reached half a million sterling. And, neverthe- 
 less, these tiny republics carried matters with a high 
 hand. They waged war, and despatched embassies, 
 and concluded alliances with a solemnity and an 
 earnestness which would do credit to the government 
 of the most extensive modern empires. They had 
 their Cavours, and their Palmerstons, and their 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 247 
 
 Bismarcks. They swore to treaties of guarantee as 
 readily, and violated those treaties as complacently, 
 as any European statesman of our days. One little 
 nationality would invade the confines of another 
 with a host of seven hundred foot, and two or three 
 and twenty cavalry; while the invaded party would 
 retaliate by despatching a fleet of a dozen cock-boats 
 to lay waste the seaboard of the aggressors. 
 
 A homely illustration will give a better conception 
 of Grecian international policy than pages of antique 
 statistics. Imagine a jealousy to spring up between 
 the boroughs of the Falkirk district and the boroughs 
 of the Stirling district, in consequence of the author- 
 ities of the latter community having assessed to poor- 
 rates the sacred soil of Bannockburn. On a misty 
 drizzling night towards the end of November some 
 burgesses of Linlithgow, who are not satisfied with 
 the result of the late municipal elections, open one 
 of the gates to a party of the enemy. The Stirling 
 men enter the town stealthily, penetrate to the 
 Grassmarket, and then blow a bugle, and invite the 
 citizens of Linlithgow, on pain of sack and massacre, 
 to separate themselves from the neighbouring 
 boroughs. The inhabitants are at first taken by sur- 
 prise; but presently they recover themselves, and 
 stand on their defence. They overturn waggons, tear 
 up the pavement, man the walls, and send off post- 
 haste for assistance. Down come fifty score stout fel- 
 lows from Lanark and Airdrie. The invaders make a 
 gallant resistance, but are overpowered and slaught- 
 ered to a man. Then the cry for vengeance rises over 
 
248 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 the whole Stirling district. Hostilities are at once 
 proclaimed. The town council assembles, and passes 
 a war-budget. A duty of five per cent, is laid on 
 butter, and ten per cent, on woollen cloth. There is 
 to be a loan of twenty thousand pounds, and a vote 
 of credit for three thousand five hundred. The local 
 Tories object to this lavish expenditure ; upon which 
 two leading Conservatives are banished, and two 
 more are slain in a popular tumult. The Stirling 
 people take into their pay three hundred Perthshire 
 Highlanders, commanded by the Duke of Athol's 
 head forester; but, on the other hand, two companies 
 of the City of Edinburgh Volunteers march out of 
 their own accord to the aid of the men of Falkirk. 
 Presently there is a pitched battle under the walls 
 of Queensferry. Mr. Oliphant^ breaks the right 
 wing of his opponents, and drives it as far as Dal- 
 meny. But in another part of the field, the discipline 
 and valour of the Edinburgh contingent carries 
 everything before it. Some of the Stirling men fly 
 to Leith ; some take refuge in Queensferry. Their 
 leader, after behaving with more than his wonted 
 courage, is left on the plain for dead. The Inver- 
 keithing detachment is caught between the sea and 
 the foe, and entirely destroyed. The booty is enor- 
 mous. A Volunteer from the Old Town comes home 
 with seven captives; one of whom he makes his 
 groom, and another his footman ; three he employs 
 as day-labourers; the sixth, a graduate of St. 
 
 * In the Parliament of 1866 Mr Lawrence Oliphant, the 
 diplomatist and author, was member for the Stirling burghs. 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 249 
 
 Andrew's, he hires out to wealthy families as a daily 
 tutor; while the seventh, who happens to be a Baillie, 
 he ransoms for five hundred pounds, a sea-piece by 
 Stanfield, and ten shares in a limited company. This 
 slight sketch will give a shrewd idea of an old Greek 
 war; indeed, were we to substitute "Thebes" for 
 "Stirling," and "Plataea" for "Linlithgow," it 
 would read like a roughly executed epitome of one 
 of the most interesting passages in Thucydides. 
 
 The curse of Hellenic life was the constant fight- 
 ing. Partly from circumstances, partly from natural 
 inclination, the Greeks formed the most quarrelsome 
 family that has existed since the days of Cain and 
 Abel. Those old republics fell out as readily as 
 Scotch and English borderers in the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, and then carried on hostilities with yet more 
 system and pertinacity than the most civilized and 
 Christian of the great modern nations. A remark- 
 able indication of the bellicose propensities of these 
 peppery little states is that, instead of declaring war, 
 they used to declare peace. The instant that a five 
 years' truce, or a twenty years' truce, between two 
 cities had come to an end the contracting parties 
 were at full liberty to begin driving cattle, and cut- 
 ting down orchards, and burning crops: thereby 
 evincing their belief in the principle that war was 
 the normal condition of human existence. 
 
 A casus belli was never far to seek. Now it was 
 a slight offered by individual members of one com- 
 munity to the patron deity of another: now some 
 time-honoured dispute about boundaries, revived for 
 
250 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 the occasion beneath the influence of local jealousy 
 untempered by the possession of ordnance maps: 
 now a complaint about the harbouring of runaway 
 slaves, or the entertainment of political refugees. A 
 standing bone of contention was the protective tend- 
 ency of ancient commerce : which may be realized 
 by depicting to oneself all the towns on the Humber 
 actuated in their mutual dealings by the spirit that 
 existed between the Spanish and English traders in 
 the reign of Elizabeth, when a Devonshire skipper 
 detected west of the Azores might make his account 
 never to see Lyme or Dartmouth again unless he 
 could turn the tables upon his captors. When such 
 sentiments everywhere prevailed against the im- 
 porters of foreign goods, it may well be believed that 
 informers drove a bouncing trade. The prohibition 
 placed upon the traffic in fruit by the Attic law has 
 been immortalized in the term "sycophant," which 
 has somehow lost its original signification of a 
 custom-house spy. 
 
 Then there were the claims of the parent city upon 
 the colony: a fruitful source of discord among an 
 enterprising people, pinched for room at home, who, 
 in the space of three centuries, covered with thriving 
 settlements the coasts of the ^gean, the Euxine, the 
 Adriatic, and the Ionian seas. These claims, in 
 theory most extensive and peculiarly binding, in 
 practice were generally allowed to lie dormant until 
 their resuscitation seemed likely to afford a pretext 
 for going to war. The longest and most determined 
 struggle recorded in Grecian history arose from a 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 251 
 
 dispute between the mother country, and the grand- 
 mother, as to which had the best right to protect 
 their offspring from the incursion of the surrounding 
 aborigines. 
 
 Anybody who has watched during a period ot 
 some years the diplomatic relations of English 
 municipalities must have been impressed by the 
 strength and permanence of their corporate patriot- 
 ism ; how greedily the public opinion of a town will 
 cling to any mark of hereditary superiority over a 
 rival ; with what uneasiness it is brought to recog- 
 nize such superiority in another; with what per- 
 severance and eagerness the object of desire is sought 
 and with what satisfaction obtained, — whether it be a 
 separate custom-house, or a fresh batch of magis- 
 trates, or an exemption from the restrictions on the 
 transport of live cattle, or the abolition of a toll which 
 goes to pave and light the streets of a privileged 
 neighbour. No one can form a true conception of 
 Hellenic society who for a moment loses sight of 
 the fact that Hellas consisted of an assemblage of 
 boroughs with these sentiments of ambition and 
 self-respect intensified twenty-fold; sanctified by 
 religious associations; ennobled by the names of 
 heroes and demigods ; dignified by the eloquence of 
 orators like Pericles, and the imaginations of poets 
 like ^schylus and Pindar; inflamed by the re- 
 collection of past insults and injuries ; unrestrained 
 by the influence of any central and paramount 
 authority. There is much truth in the picture drawn 
 by Aristophanes in his play of the " Acharnians," 
 
252 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 where the principal actor speaks as follows, in a very 
 free translation : — 
 
 ' ' I hope the spectators will not take it amiss if I 
 talk a little about public affairs, though I am play- 
 ing burlesque; for one has a conscience, even in 
 burlesque. And this time Cleon will hardly be able 
 to charge me with vilifying the State in the presence 
 of foreigners, because it is too early in the year for 
 foreigners, and we have the theatre to ourselves. 
 
 " Now, you must know that I perfectly abominate 
 the Lacedaemonians, and cordially hope that the 
 next earthquake will bring all their houses about 
 their ears ; for I, as well as others, have had their 
 foragers in my vineyard. But, come now, (for I see 
 none but friends about me), why, after all, are we 
 to lay everything to the door of the Lacedaemonians? 
 For you will remember that certain of our people; — 
 I do not refer to the country in general : don't mis- 
 take me for a moment; I make no allusion to the 
 country in general ; — certain dirty, counterfeit, con- 
 temptible scamps were always giving the police 
 notice about Megarian woollens. And if they caught 
 sight of a cucumber, or a leveret, or a sucking-pig, 
 or a head of garlic, or a lump of salt, as a matter of 
 course it came from Megara, and was declared con- 
 traband on the spot. But these doings were a trifle, 
 and too much in the ordinary Athenian style to need 
 remark, until some young sparks thought fit to go 
 on a tipsy frolic to Megara, and carry off a woman. 
 Whereupon the Megarians were cut to the soul by 
 the outrage, and made reprisals by running away 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 253 
 
 with two of Aspasia's girls; and so the Grecian 
 world broke out into war for the sake of a leash of 
 baggages. And then Olympian Pericles, in all his 
 terrors, fell to thundering, and lightening, and shut- 
 ting our markets against the Megarians, and bring- 
 ing in a string of prohibitory laws that ran like 
 drinking-catches. And, when the Megarians found 
 themselves dying by slow starvation, they petitioned 
 the Lacedaemonians to get the enactments repealed 
 that had been passed on behalf of those three hussies. 
 But we would not hear of it ; and so shields began 
 banging together from one end of Greece to the 
 other. 'It was all very wrong,' you will say; but 
 how can you expect other people to be more patient 
 than yourselves? Why, if a Lacedaemonian had 
 chartered a bumboat, and run a cargo of a single 
 blind puppy into one of your dependencies, would 
 you have sat quiet at home? Not you. Before the 
 day was out, you would be putting in commission 
 three hundred galleys; and the dockyards would 
 resound with the planing of oar-blades, and the 
 driving in of bolts, and the shifting of rowlocks, and 
 the whistling of boatswains ; and the streets would 
 be alive with paying of bounties, and weighing out 
 of rations, and marines squabbling, and captains 
 getting elected, and figure-heads getting gilded, and 
 garlic and olives and onions getting stuffed into nets, 
 and tins of preserved anchovies, and garlands, and 
 dancing-girls, and bloody-noses, and black eyes." 
 
 The historical interest of these incessant wars is 
 out of all proportion to their size. Indeed, military 
 
254 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 narratives are usually attractive in inverse ratio to 
 the number of combatants engaged ; for, the fewer 
 the actors, the more marked becomes the personal 
 character of the scene. The result of a great modern 
 conflict depends on an immense multitude of inci- 
 dents, so interwoven that it is all but impossible to 
 disentangle them and to credit each with its due 
 importance; and it is delightful to turn from the 
 elaborate technicalities of contemporary warfare to 
 the simple manoeuvres by which Miltiades and Epa- 
 minondas won and lost their battles. Commanding, 
 as he did, a small but high-spirited body of militia- 
 men, — who were at home the equals of their leader, 
 and while on active service never forgot that he was 
 their fellow-citizen, — a Greek strategist was forced to 
 adapt his tactics quite as much to the temper of his 
 men as to the nature of the locality. He was not 
 even permitted to take their courage for granted, as 
 is the privilege of generals who have to do with 
 regular soldiers; but was under the necessity of 
 haranguing his army whenever there was a prospect 
 of coming to blows. Athenian military men, trained 
 in their courts of law and their popular assembly, 
 were for the most part voluble enough ; but it must 
 have been a serious addition to the responsibilities 
 of an honest Boeotian veteran to spend the eve of an 
 action in stringing together platitudes about patriot- 
 ism, and tutelary gods, and ancestral ashes, when 
 he ought to have been eating his supper and visiting 
 his outposts. 
 
 A good illustration, both of the minute scale on 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 255 
 
 which a Greek commander conducted his operations, 
 and of the weight which he attached to catching his 
 adversarieswhen they were not in a fighting humour, 
 is afforded by Cleon's expedition to Amphipolis, 
 against which he marched at the head of 1,500 foot 
 and 300 cavalry. Brasidas, the best partisan leader 
 of the day, and perhaps of all time, hesitated to 
 attack so powerful a force in the open field, and 
 made arrangements for sallying forth upon the in- 
 vaders at an unexpected moment, just when they 
 should imagine that they were going to occupy the 
 place without opposition. But it so happened that 
 some Athenian scouts espied symptoms of an am- 
 buscade within the city, and took the information 
 to Cleon, who, having reconnoitred the Spartan 
 position by the very primitive method of looking 
 underneath the gate, ordered his column to draw off 
 towards higher ground. Upon which Brasidas said 
 to those about him, " I can see by the movement of 
 their heads and their pikes that the enemy will not 
 stand. People who march in that style never await 
 the onset. Throw open the gates, and let us charge 
 them like men who are sure to win ! " And with a 
 hundred and fifty picked soldiers at his heels he 
 ran out to his last victory. 
 
 The multifarious talents and accomplishments that 
 were indispensable to a Greek general made a heavy 
 demand even upon the many-sided Athenian charac- 
 ter. It was of primary necessity that he should be a 
 skilful diplomatist, in order to keep his network of 
 intrigues under his own hand, and not leave them 
 
256 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 to the criticism and manipulation of his political 
 rivals at home. He had one agent at the Macedon- 
 ian court, urging Perdiccas to attack the hostile 
 colonies from the land-side, and promising, in re- 
 turn, to get the heir-apparent naturalized as an Attic 
 freeman ; another among the Thracian mountains, 
 levying a corps of archers and slingers, and doing 
 his best to prejudice the barbarian intellect against 
 the Lacedaemonian recruiting-officers; while his 
 most confidential emissary was at Sardis, watching 
 the carefully balanced policy of the Satrap, or even 
 posting up-country on a six-months' journey to the 
 neighbourhood of the Caspian sea, with a remote 
 hope of inducing the Great King to forget Marathon. 
 He must know the rudiments of divination, so as to 
 keep a sharp eye on his prophets, and insist with 
 authority, when he had once made up his mind to 
 engage the enemy, on the priest sacrificing sheep 
 after sheep until the omens chose to be favourable. 
 He must be well acquainted with naval matters, in 
 a country where nine-tenths of the fighting took 
 place among the islands or along the sea-board. 
 And, besides being something of a soothsayer, and 
 something more of a sailor, it was, above all, es- 
 sential that he should be very much of a politician ; 
 for the success or failure of a military enterprise was 
 inextricably bound up in the changes and chances 
 of internal politics. Throughout the towns of Greece 
 the oligarchy held staunchly by conservative Sparta. 
 The democrats habitually looked to Athens as their 
 natural patron and protector; regarded her triumphs 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 257 
 
 and humiliations as their own ; summoned her with- 
 out scruple to the rescue, if their political adver- 
 saries proved too strong for them to manage single- 
 handed; and, when their own ascendancy had been 
 secured, freely sent their ships and squadrons to 
 back her quarrel for the time being. A member of 
 the popular party at Corinth virtually reckoned an 
 Athenian as his countryman, and a Corinthian 
 aristocrat as an alien; whereas a Megarian Tory 
 would far rather see a Lacedaemonian garrison in 
 the citadel than a Liberal majority in the senate. If 
 her friends gained the upper hand, a city which had 
 been a thorn in the side of Athens might in a day 
 become an outpost for her protection ; while a lucky 
 coup d'etat, or a few judicious assassinations, might 
 place thousands of shields and scores of galleys at 
 the disposal of Sparta. So that a wise commander 
 paid quite as much attention to the opinions of the 
 enemy as to his own tactics ; and a prudent engineer 
 trusted less to his scaling-ladders and his mines 
 than to the chance of finding a gate left on the jar, 
 or a rope hanging over the parapet. 
 
 In every Greek state there existed two parties, 
 ranged against each other in open or covert hostility. 
 The democratical faction was strong in numbers and 
 enthusiasm. The oligarchical faction held its own 
 by dint of wealth, energy, and an excellent organiza- 
 tion. When the popular spirit was excited by hope, 
 or resentment, or panic, the onward rush of the 
 masses was irresistible; but at ordinary times the 
 aristocrats, ever on the alert for an opportunity, 
 
 s 
 
258 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 gradually recovered their lost ground. Cooped up 
 within the ramparts of a single town, and brought 
 into daily collision throughout all the departments 
 of municipal administration, these factions hated 
 each other with a ferocity which very seldom for 
 long together confined itself to words and looks. 
 Mutual suspicions, mutual injuries, mutual treacher- 
 ies, soon brought about such a state of feeling that 
 men began to believe in the necessity for mutual 
 butchery. Then came riots in the public places, 
 nocturnal murdersof theleading demagogues, arson, 
 chance-medley, and every manifestation of rancour 
 and anarchy. Moderate politicians went to the wall, 
 and were lucky if they did not go to the gallows. 
 Men paid to their party-club the allegiance which 
 they refused to their common country, and did not 
 hesitate to call in the aid of the foreign sword, or 
 the servile torch and bludgeon. When matters were 
 at this pass, a civil war was the inevitable issue. 
 The battle would be fought out among the ware- 
 houses, the temples, and the wharves of the un- 
 happy city. Victory would at length place the beaten 
 faction beneath the feet of its vindictive rival. Then 
 would follow proscriptions, confiscations, the execu- 
 tion of scores, and the banishment of hundreds. 
 Bad men would take advantage of the general 
 licence to wreak their personal vengeance, and glut 
 their private cupidity. Debtors cancelled their bonds 
 in the blood of the holders ; lovers laid information 
 against their successful rivals; actors retaliated on 
 the critics who had hissed them off the stage ; and 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 259 
 
 philosophers turned the tables upon some unfortun- 
 ate logician who had refuted their favourite syllogism . 
 If any one suspects that this account is over- 
 coloured, let him turn to the fourth book of Thucyd- 
 ides, and read what took place in lovely Corfu, on 
 a day in the late autumn, near three-and-twenty 
 centuries back in the depths of time. After the 
 island had been distracted by internal war for the 
 space of many months, it came to pass that the 
 relics of the oligarchy, some three hundred in 
 number, fell into the hands of their opponents; 
 "who," says the historian, "shut up the prisoners 
 in a large building, and then brought them forth, 
 twenty at a time, tied them in a string, and sent 
 them down between two parallel rows of armed men, 
 attended by people with cart-whips, whose business 
 it was to quicken the steps of those who lagged be- 
 hind ; and whoever happened to have a grudge 
 against any of the captives got a cut or stab at him 
 as he passed by. And sixty had been so disposed of 
 before those in the building were aware of what was 
 going on, (for they imagined that their companions 
 were being simply conducted to another place of 
 confinement). But at last someone let them into the 
 secret : and then the poor fellows began to call upon 
 the Athenian admiral, and bade him kill them, if it 
 seemed good to him ; but they positively refused to 
 leave the building, and swore that no one should 
 enter from the outside as long as they had power to 
 prevent it. And then the populace gave up the idea 
 of forcing the doors, and clambered on to the roof. 
 
26o AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 tore open the ceiling, and pelted the people below 
 with the tiles; while others got bows, and shot down 
 through the aperture. And the men inside kept off 
 the missiles as best they might ; but soon they found 
 reason to give themselves up for lost, and one after 
 another they made away with their lives. Some 
 picked up the arrows, and thrust them into their 
 throats ; while others twisted themselves halters with 
 strips torn from their clothes, or with the cords of 
 some beds which happened to have been left about. 
 And far into the night, (for the sun went down upon 
 the melancholy scene,) they continued dying by their 
 own hands, or beneath the shower of darts and brick- 
 bats. And, when day broke, the townspeople piled 
 them in layers on waggons, and took them outside 
 the city." 
 
 From such horrors we are effectually preserved 
 by the very different character of our political situa- 
 tion. Wherever party feeling runs high among a 
 fiery and earnest race, there is always a latent 
 possibility of party violence ; but in a country which 
 counts its inhabitants by tens of millions the very 
 size of the community is a sure protection against 
 any fatal excesses. However fierce and eager may 
 be the factions in a particular borough or city, 
 the force of external public opinion, and the over- 
 whelming strength of the central government, will 
 speedily check all dangerous manifestations of poli- 
 tical passions. Where Hellenic democrats would 
 have called in the Athenian fleet to assist them in 
 getting the better of their adversaries, — where Hel- 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 261 
 
 lenic aristocrats would have welcomed an invasion 
 of Spartans or an insurrection of serfs, — we content 
 ourselves with telegraphing for a few dozen of the 
 county police, or a troop of hussars from the neigh- 
 bouring assize-town. And so our civic strife is 
 waged, — not with daggers, and clubs, and fire- 
 brands, and fragments of broken pottery, — but with 
 the more pacific artillery of polling-cards, and leaf- 
 lets, and platform speeches, and electoral addresses. 
 The historians of Greece, from Xenophon down- 
 wards, have imitated the people of whom they write, 
 and make a point of ranging themselves under the 
 banners of one or the other of the two leading cities. 
 This spirit of uncompromising partisanship, excus- 
 able in a contemporary, writing of the scenes in 
 which he had acted and the men whom he had loved 
 and hated, becomes somewhat absurd when trans- 
 ferred to pages printed in Paternoster Row. Forsome 
 time previous to the French Revolution Athens had 
 the best of it. Freedom and equality were the order 
 of the day. Liberals of a milder type talked with 
 admiration of Pericles and Aristides ; while sterner 
 spirits were all for Harmodius and Aristogiton, 
 and for carrying their daggers in boughs of myrtle, 
 and for irrigating trees of liberty with the blood 
 of tyrants. Then came the great flood of Conservat- 
 ive reaction, which penetrated into this singular 
 side-channel, and produced a crop of authors who 
 discovered that the Attic democracy was a fickle and 
 ferocious mob ; so godless that it burned the temples 
 of a conquered city, and so superstitious that it flew 
 
262 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 into a frenzy of rage and terror when an idol was 
 mutilated by a party of midnight roysterers ; so in- 
 constant that it deserted Alcibiades, and so fond and 
 besotted that it always stuck to Cleon. This school 
 could see nothing in the Athenian constitution ex- 
 cept ballot, universal suffrage, and graduated tax- 
 ation bearing lightly on the poor and heavily on the 
 rich and powerful ; struck at Charles Fox in the per- 
 son of Demosthenes, and bespattered Orator Hunt 
 under the guise of Hyperbolus; and loathed the 
 wreath on the brows of an Hellenic demagogue as 
 if it were the white hat of a British radical. For a 
 generation the serried ranks of Mitford and his dis- 
 ciples carried all before them ; but a far keener in- 
 tellect, and an abler though not an impartial pen, 
 has at length turned the balance of war; and it is 
 probable that Englishmen will henceforward in the 
 main take their opinions on Grecian international 
 historyfrom Mr. Grote's exhaustive, yet most attract- 
 ive, work. 
 
 The security of these little Greek boroughs, hating 
 each other more bitterly than Vienna and Turin, and 
 situated in closer proximity than Putney and Isling- 
 ton, depended absolutely on the natural or artificial 
 strength of their defences. In most cases the citadel, 
 in some the entire town, was planted on the summit 
 of a precipitous rock. Where the site was less ad- 
 vantageous the place was surrounded by battlements 
 of immense height and solidity. If the territory com- 
 prised a port anywhere within six or seven miles of 
 the capital, the city was connected with the harbour 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 263 
 
 and the docks by works known technically as "long 
 walls." In time of war a sufficient number of the 
 burghers were told off to man the line of circum- 
 vallation. A bell was passed from hand to hand, 
 whosecontinuous ringing announced that the cordon 
 of sentries was on the alert. Sparta, alone of Hel- 
 lenic communities, scorned to surround herself with 
 material bulwarks other than the corselets of her 
 soldiers; but, like Paris in 1814, she found reason 
 to repent of this over-confidence when her power 
 had been shaken, and her ascendancy called in ques- 
 tion, by the vital defeat of Leuctra. 
 
 In the eyes of a Greek the town wall was the symbol 
 of distinct national existence. The first act of a con- 
 queror, who desired to have his prostrate enemies 
 permanently at his mercy, was to level the fortifi- 
 cations, and split up the municipality into separate 
 villages. In the case where a modern victor would 
 prohibit a dependent sovereign from increasing his 
 standing army beyond police requirements, Lysan- 
 der or Agesilaus would have thought it enough to 
 forbid the rebuilding of the ramparts. There is little 
 in ancient narrative more curious than the mixture, 
 so intensely Greek, of heroism with mendacity, 
 whereby Themistocles gained time to fortify Athens 
 in the teeth of Spartan jealousy and selfishness ; and 
 there is nothing more touching than the passage in 
 which Xenophon relates how Conon sailed straight 
 from his victory off Cnidus to restore the walls that 
 had lain in ruins since the sad day when, undone 
 by her own ambition rather than by the prowess of 
 
264 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 the foe, after facing Greece in arms for a generation 
 the imperial city fell. To the completion of that de- 
 sign the townsmen fondly looked for the return of 
 her old supremacy and ancestral renown by land 
 and sea. They believed that they should once more 
 see their home such as they loved to describe her in 
 conventional, but not unmerited, epithets, — "the 
 bright, the violet-crowned, the enviable, the famed 
 in song." And no wonder; for he who to-day per- 
 uses that story, — though his patriotism is due else- 
 where, and his more enlightened ideas of right and 
 wrong are shocked at every turn by the iniquity and 
 cruelty displayed by Athens during the period of 
 her domination, — can hardly repress a transient 
 hope, in defiance of his acquaintance with what is 
 now history, that he is again to read of her as she 
 was under the rule of Pericles; willing for the 
 moment to forget that, however deftly the architect 
 might piece together the scattered stones, no skill 
 or industry could recall the valour, the energy, the 
 simple hardihood which urged on the galleys at 
 Salamis, and cut its way through the stockade at 
 Mycale. 
 
 The loftiness of the walls, and the multitude of the 
 garrison, consisting, as it did, of every able-bodied 
 male in the population, effectually insured a Greek 
 city from capture by escalade; and it has been abund- 
 antly proved by the experience of many ages and 
 countries that militia inside a work fight better than 
 militia in the field. Nor was it easy for the assail- 
 ants to proceed by the more tardy method of block- 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 265 
 
 ade, which would have necessitated the retention 
 under arms for months together of men who, after 
 the first few days of soldiering, began to fret at being 
 kept from their barns and workshops. If a small town 
 had made itself exceptionally obnoxious, the be- 
 siegers, intent on vengeance, sometimes had resort to 
 the plan of running a counter-wall round the entire 
 circuit of the fortifications, which could be readily 
 guarded by successive detachments of themselves 
 and their allies until the place was reduced by famine. 
 Athens, indeed, was enabled by her opulence to keep 
 on foot considerable bodies of troops during pro- 
 tracted and distant campaigns. Throughout the 
 siege of Potidaea her heavy-armed infantry at no time 
 fell below a force of three thousand shields, every 
 man receiving pay at the rate of twenty pence a-day. 
 She spent in all half a million of money upon this 
 operation, which closely resembled the siege of 
 Sebastopol in duration, locality, and climate; and 
 surpassed it in the misery undergone by the invading 
 army. 
 
 In the ranks of that army marched a pikeman 
 conspicuous for courage and eccentricity, with whose 
 description Alcibiades amused a circle of guests 
 over the wine of Agathon the tragic poet, — having 
 already taken a good deal too much of somebody 
 else's. "You must know," said he, "that Socrates 
 and I served together at Potidaea, and belonged to 
 the same mess. And there, whenever, as is so often 
 the case on active service, we ran short of provisions, 
 no one came near him in the power of enduring 
 
266 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 privation. On the other hand, when we had plenty 
 to eat and drink, he showed a rare capacity for en- 
 joyment. Though he did not care for wine, if he was 
 put to it he could sit out the whole table ; and yet no 
 living man ever saw Socrates the worse for liquor: 
 both of which facts the present company are likely 
 to find out in the course of the evening. And during 
 the depth of the winter, (and a winter in those parts 
 is no trifle), when all who were off duty kept close 
 at home, and the men on guard turned out in the 
 most extraordinary panoply of wrappers, with their 
 feet stuffed into sheepskins and rolls of felt, this 
 wonderful person went abroad in that old cloak we 
 all know by heart, and trudged barefoot through 
 the ice and snow more freely than his comrades who 
 had taken such precautions against the cold. 
 
 "And I remember well that one morning early, 
 as he was going about his business, an idea struck 
 him, and he stood still to examine it. And, when it 
 did not resolve itself to his satisfaction, he would 
 not give it up, but remained standing until noon 
 came, and people began to notice him and to say 
 among themselves: 'Socrates has been standing 
 there since morning, thinking something out.' 
 Eventually a party of lonians, after their dinner, 
 finding the weather sultry, brought out some bed- 
 ding and lay down in the open air; keeping an eye 
 on him meanwhile, to see whether he would stand 
 there all night. And they were not disappointed, 
 for he never stirred till daylight, when he saluted 
 the rising sun, and went his way. 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 267 
 
 "Then, too, you ought to have witnessed his 
 behaviour on the occasion when the army was es- 
 caping from the rout of Delium ; where I was pre- 
 sent in the cavalry, andhe in thelineof spears. When 
 our people broke and ran he walked away with 
 Laches. And I fell in with them, and bade him 
 keep his heart up, as I would not desert him. Now, 
 as I was in comparative safety on the back of my 
 horse, I could watch the pair at my leisure: and 
 there could be no doubt which was the more cool 
 and collected. For Socrates marched along, as if 
 he were crossing the market-place at home, with his 
 nose cocked up and his eyes busy to the right and 
 left, — just as you, Aristophanes, described him in 
 your burlesque, — quietly scanning the stream of 
 friends and enemies, as it poured by, with an air 
 which most unmistakably proclaimed to all in the 
 neighbourhood that whoever meddled with him 
 would have cause to regret it. And so he brought 
 himself and his companion safe off the field; for, 
 when a man carries himself in that fashion, the 
 pursuers generally keep their distance, and prefer to 
 go after those who are flying helter-skelter." 
 
 As a Greek general had seldom the force to storm 
 a city, or the time to starve it out, he for the most 
 part confined himself to two modes of warfare. He 
 would enter the hostile borders, and select some 
 mountain village planted amidst a network of gorges 
 and torrents, or some sheer rock standing out like 
 an island from the surrounding plain, and occupy 
 it with a party of light troops, horse and foot, under 
 
268 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 the orders of an active and adroit leader. Or perhaps 
 he would hunt up the evicted inhabitants of some 
 town which had perished by the act of the people 
 whom he was engaged in annoying, and plant them 
 down bodily in the territory of their former perse- 
 cutors. Among all the calamities of war none came 
 so vividly home to a Greek as the presence of a 
 marauding garrison within his own confines. Apart 
 from the disgrace, — apart from the bitter conscious- 
 ness that tributary populations would not long sub- 
 mit to the ascendancy of a state which could not 
 keep the enemy off its own soil, — there were the 
 daily losses by excursions of the foragers into the 
 adjacent country ; the expense and trouble of feeding 
 the army of observation which watched the ap- 
 proaches, and maintaining doubled and trebled 
 guards along the city walls ; the sleeplessness ; the 
 worry; the bad food; the bivouacs in the snow; 
 the wear and tear of horsehoofs amidst the ravines 
 where the fighting lay; the nightly disappearance 
 of slaves, the smartest and most valuable of whom 
 were always the first to be aware that they had an 
 asylum close at hand. During the Peloponnesian 
 War upwards of twenty thousand runaways eman- 
 cipated themselves by taking refuge in the Spartan 
 outpost of Decelea; and, owing to the increased 
 exigencies of the war both in town and country, 
 Athens, (to quote the words of Thucydides,) was 
 brought from the condition of a city to that of a 
 military station. 
 
 Or in the early summer, when the crops were green 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 269 
 
 on the ground, the belligerent who was the stronger 
 or the more enterprising would summon all his allies 
 to some convenient rendezvous, and repair thither 
 himself with every available man equipped and pro- 
 visioned for a campaign of from ten to thirty days. 
 And then he would cross the frontier, and pour forth 
 a deluge of spoilers over the domain of his unfor- 
 tunate rival. Meanwhile, in expectation of the coming 
 storm, the entire rural population of the invaded 
 country would have betaken itself to its strongholds. 
 If the combatant who was inferior on land had com- 
 mand of the sea, the cattle would have been ferried 
 across to the nearest friendly islands; while the 
 agricultural implements, the jars of wine, the family 
 gods, the furniture, and even the fixtures of the 
 homesteads, would have been packed into carts and 
 transported within the walls of the capital. Unless 
 the farmer was lucky enough to possess a town 
 residence he made shift to live in a temple or an 
 outhouse, or even to encamp gipsy-fashion along 
 the inside of the ram.part. 
 
 It is easy to conceive the distress of the half-fed 
 and badly sheltered multitude during these most 
 unwelcome annual gatherings. May and June in 
 the Levant are at best trying months, and must 
 indeed have heen intolerable in the over-crowded 
 by-lanes of a beleaguered town; especially if the 
 engineers of the aggressor succeeded in diverting 
 the supply of water. Grecian cities, never very 
 rich in sanitary appliances, were under these circum- 
 stances peculiarly susceptible to the inroads of 
 
270 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 disease: and it was in such a plight that Athens 
 first harboured the fearful epidemic immortalized by 
 Thucydides in the simple and striking narrative of 
 an eye-witness and a sufferer, which has afforded 
 matter for imitation in many languages and metres. 
 The impatience of the people inside, tormented by 
 drought and discomfort, and goaded to desperation 
 by the scenes of rapine and wanton destruction 
 which were enacting beneath their very eyes, would 
 inevitably break forth in a cry for instant combat. 
 Forgetting that they had surrendered their land to 
 depredation because, at a time when their judgement 
 could be better trusted, they had deliberately come 
 to the conclusion that the enemy were too strong for 
 them in the field, they would assail the authorities 
 with passionate demands for permission to strike a 
 blow in defence of their hearths and holdings. At 
 such a crisis a concientious prime minister, or com- 
 mander-in-chief, had indeed a thankless office: and 
 the more so, should the invaders have been careful 
 to aggravate his difficulties by ostentatiously except- 
 ing his property from the general spoliation, and 
 thereby attaching to him a suspicion of treachery 
 and collusion. If the leading man had the character 
 required to withstand, and the influence to restrain, 
 his more impulsive countrymen, (a service which 
 they whom he benefited seldom forgave or forgot), 
 the enemy after a time would grow tired of plunder- 
 ing other people's crops, and, gorged with booty, 
 would march home to gather in their own. 
 
 But things did not always end so peaceably. Un- 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 271 
 
 less a recent defeat had cooled the temper of the 
 weaker party, the third or fourth day of a foray 
 often witnessed the forces of the two cities drawn 
 out face to face. Free from the smoke of a modern 
 engagement, and the fog and drizzle of a suburban 
 British review, an Hellenic battle must have been 
 a gallant sight. In purple tunics and burnished 
 armour the men stood ten, fifteen, and twenty 
 deep beneath a glittering forest of spear-heads. 
 Those who were well-to-do had no lack of gold about 
 their greaves and breastplates, and were dandified 
 in plumes and sword-belts; while even the poorest 
 citizen wore a helmet fashioned by the exquisite 
 taste of a Greek artificer. It must have been a trial 
 for the nerves of the bravest to stand biting his 
 moustache; humming a bar of the Paean which he 
 was to sing within the next quarter of an hour; 
 wondering whether his widow would marry again ; 
 hoping that the cobbler on his right might not turn 
 tail, or the teacher of gymnastics on his left shove 
 him out of the line; dimly conscious meanwhile 
 that his colonel was exhorting him, in a series of 
 well-turned periods, to bethink himself of the tomb 
 which covered those who died in Thermopylae, and 
 the trophy which stood on the beach at Artemisium. 
 And then the signal trumpet sounded ; and the music 
 struck up; and the whole array moved forward, 
 steadily at first, but breaking into a run when only 
 a few hundred yards separated the approaching 
 lines. And, as the distance between grew shorter, 
 and the tramp of the enemy mingled with their own, 
 
272 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 the front-rank men had just time to try and imagine 
 that the countenances of the people opposite looked 
 like flinching and that the notes of their war-chant 
 had begun to falter, and the next second there would 
 be a crash of pikes, and a grating of bucklers, and 
 a clutching of beards; and those who would fain be 
 home again were pushed on by the mass behind, 
 excited at hearing others fighting, and with no steel 
 at its own throat ; and, after five minutes of thrust- 
 ing, and shouting, and fierce straining of foot and 
 knee and shoulder, the less determined, or the worst 
 disciplined, of the two hosts would learn, by one 
 more cruel experience, the old lesson that life as 
 well as honour is for those who retain their self- 
 respect and their shields. 
 
 Romantic as were the incidents of a pitched battle 
 on land, the accompaniments of an ancient sea-fight 
 appear still more diverting to an English reader; 
 for a naval action consisted in driving one against 
 another ships almost as slender in proportion to the 
 number of people whom they carried as the racing- 
 boats built by Messrs. Searle of Oxford. Athens, 
 in her day of greatness, far surpassed all other 
 powers in this branch of warfare. Her valiant and 
 noble bearing during the Persian troubles in the 
 first quarter of the fifth century before Christ, as 
 contrasted with the underhand self-seeking policy of 
 Sparta, gained her the general confidence and es- 
 teem, and laid the foundations of her empire, which 
 ere long comprehended most of the islands and 
 maritime cities of the Grecian world. Honourably 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 273 
 
 won, her supremacy was upheld and extended by- 
 far more questionable procedures, and soon degener- 
 ated into an execrable tyranny. She converted the 
 contingent of galleys due to the national fleet from 
 each of those whom she was still pleased to call her 
 allies into a contribution of money, and in so far 
 contrived to lessen the number of states which kept 
 on foot a war-navy; while with the funds thus ob- 
 tained she put on the stocks annually from twenty 
 to thirty keels, — a supply which enabled her to 
 maintain an average of three hundred ships laid up 
 in ordinary. This department was managed with 
 true republican economy. The mouth of a modern 
 critic of Navy Estimates may well water when he 
 reads that the cash balance in the hands of the Chief 
 Constructor of the Athenian Admiralty fell short of 
 seven hundred pounds. The galleys were called by 
 every pretty female name whose etymology con- 
 tained an allusion to the sea ; and, when the list of 
 Nausicaas and Nauphantes had been exhausted, 
 recourse was had to the abstract qualities, ' ' Health, " 
 "Foresight," and the like; or to words of happy 
 omen, such as "The Fair Voyage," "The Sover- 
 eign, "and ' ' The Saviourof theState. " The Romans, 
 who took to the water on compulsion, and never 
 could be brought to understand how anybody should 
 prefer to fight on a deck who could get a bit of firm 
 and dry turf, thought masculine appellations quite 
 good enough for vessels which they loved one less 
 than another. 
 
 The imperial city prudently monopolized nautical 
 
274 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 skill by taking care that her petty ofScers, whose 
 excellence was acknowledged by her rivals with 
 despair and envy, should be one and all of pure 
 Attic blood. There was the master, who superin- 
 tended the sailing of the vessel when the wind 
 allowed the canvas to be spread ; the boatswain, who 
 instructed the rowers, gave them the time with his 
 flute, and picked out men with straight backs and 
 strong loins to handle the heavy sweeps of the 
 upper tier; and the steersman, whose aim it was to 
 avoid the direct shock of the enemy's beak, and by 
 a dexterous manoeuvre to strike her amidships or 
 astern, sweep away a bank of oars, break her rudder, 
 or perhaps sink her outright with all hands on board. 
 Her vast resources gave Athens the command of 
 the labour-market, and permitted her to take into 
 pay from every port in Greece crowds of seamen to 
 perform the subordinate duties of the ship. But, 
 though at ordinary times the bulk of the rowers were 
 foreign mercenaries, on occasions of urgent public 
 danger the State summoned all her citizens, who 
 were not touched in the wind, to help in pulling 
 along her galleys. There is something quaint in the 
 notion that Aeschylus and his brothers must have 
 been familiar with those miseries which a College 
 crew know so well, and in all probability prided 
 themselves on a pet salve for raw fingers, or a 
 knowing receipt for training. Aristophanes writes 
 with contempt of sluggards who could not show 
 an honourable blister earned in their country's 
 cause, and commends one of his characters for 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 275 
 
 placing a soft cushion beneath a'veteran who had 
 fought at Salamis. 
 
 From the causes enumerated in the preceding 
 paragraphs Athens was always beforehand with her 
 adversaries, and established a vast naval superiority 
 at the commencement of hostilities. At an early 
 period of the Peloponnesian War, Phormio, an old 
 salt of the best Attic school, with a score of ships, 
 went straight into the midst of a fleet of forty-seven 
 triremes, and captured twelve of them after a fight 
 which apparently did not last as many minutes. 
 The result is less marvellous when we learn that the 
 allies arranged their galleys in a circle with prows 
 outwards, like the spokes of a wheel : a formation 
 which the land-breeze blowing down the Corinthian 
 Gulf soon converted into a hopeless medley. While 
 the men were swearing at their neighbours, and 
 shoving each other apart with poles, the Athenian 
 admiral bore down on them with his squadron of 
 crack sailors following him in single file. The 
 Peloponnesians soon appeared again, reinforced to 
 a sum total of seventy-seven vessels, and this time 
 much better commanded. Phormio, by an act of 
 carelessness, was forced to fight at a disadvantage, 
 lost nine of his ships, and had to run for it. But, 
 when the action seemed to have been already decided 
 against him, the hindmost of the fugitives, noticing 
 one of the hostile galleys considerably ahead of the 
 main body, dodged round a merchantman which 
 happened to be lying at anchor, and sent the pre- 
 sumptuous foe to the bottom; but not before the 
 
276 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 Lacedaemonian admiral, wlio was on board the ill- 
 fated craft, had found time to stab himself with his 
 sword. Upon this the eleven Athenians recovered 
 their courage, turned on their pursuers, drove before 
 them exactly seven times their own number in ig- 
 nominious rout, and recaptured all that they had 
 lost, besides taking six of the enemy. 
 
 Accommodating themselves as best they might 
 to the overwhelming disparity in fighting power, 
 the Spartans adopted the usual course of a belliger- 
 ent who cannot keep the sea, and freely granted 
 letters of marque among their naval allies. Elastic 
 Greek consciences soon began to ignore the faint 
 line which separates privateering from piracy ; and 
 a Megarian corsair was very indifferent as to whether 
 the fishermen and traders, with whom she fell in, did, 
 or did not, own allegiance to Attic rule. All prisoners, 
 especially those whose dialect and credentials ought 
 to have exempted them from capture, were killed as 
 soon as caught, and hidden away by night among the 
 ravines which ran down to the coast. The public 
 mind, in a general way not over particular with 
 regard to human life, appears to have considered 
 that this proceeding carried somewhat to excess the 
 principle of dead men telling no tales. Accordingly, 
 when shortly afterwards the Athenians found means 
 to seize some Spartan Commissioners who were 
 passing through a neutral country on their way to 
 the Persian court, the whole party were conducted 
 to Athens, put to death without trial or inquiry, and 
 thrown down a chasm among some rocks, as a 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 277 
 
 solemn reprisal for the outrages committed by the 
 Peloponnesian freebooters: a sure method of antici- 
 pating summarily the objections of the international 
 jurists on the other side. Those jurists, indeed, 
 had against them an awkward precedent in the case 
 of the heralds of Darius, whom sixty years back the 
 Lacedaemonian authorities had disposed of in a 
 manner precisely similar, even to the smallest details. 
 Under such a state of things it may well be believed 
 that there were many disagreeable breaks in the 
 round of duties and pleasures which composed the 
 ordinary life of a Greek citizen. It must have been 
 sad news for a rural proprietor, just as the corn was 
 ripening to his mind, and his lambs had got well 
 through the perils of the cold weather, and the 
 fruit was sufficiently forward to allow of a fair guess 
 at the yield of figs and pomegranates, to hear that 
 Spartan cavalry had been seen cutting grass within 
 a league of the frontier. It must have cost him a 
 pang to abandon his cheerful and wholesome pro- 
 gramme of country pursuits ; — the morning inspec- 
 tion of the blood-colt which was to do something at 
 the next Isthmian contest; the evening gossip over 
 negus and chestnuts about the latest news from 
 Sicily, and the best receipt for pickling olives ; the 
 fresh air; the early nights; the presidency of the 
 local games; the observance and affection of his 
 neighbours ; the presence and favour of the paternal 
 deities, whom he had but last year propitiated with 
 a new bronze hearth, and a pair of statuettes from 
 the hand of Phidias's foreman. To exchange all 
 
278 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 this for a sojourn in the hot and dreary city ; — where 
 bread, and vinegar, and charcoal, and all that his 
 farm gave him for the taking, had to be boughtatwar- 
 prices; where the first year he lodged about among 
 his old school-fellows, and the second year boarded 
 with the agent who in more prosperous days had 
 disposed of his wine and oil ; until, as time went on, 
 and peace seemed more remote than ever, he had 
 outstayed his welcome in every quarter, and was 
 fain to squat beneath a turret on the battlement, 
 beguiling his involuntary idleness by speculating 
 whether the pillagers would think it worth their 
 trouble to cut down the rest of his orchard, and 
 whether the slave whom he had left in charge was 
 likely to keep dark about the pear-tree under which 
 his plate was buried. 
 
 Nor was the Athenian, who habitually resided in 
 town, without cares and trials of his own. Some 
 winter evening, perhaps, as he was hurrying out to 
 a dinner-party, curled, and oiled, and in his best 
 tunic, — conning over the riddles and the impromptu 
 puns wherewith he intended to astonish the com- 
 pany, — he would see a crowd gathered round some 
 bills posted on a statue at a street-corner: and then 
 he would turn to the slave who trotted behind him 
 with his napkin, and spoon, and box of scents, and 
 send the boy off to learn what the matter was : and 
 the young varlet would return with a grin on his 
 face to say that the Theban foragers were abroad, 
 and that the generals had put up a notice desig- 
 nating the burghers who were to turn out and 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 279 
 
 watch the passes, and that his master's name stood 
 third upon the list. And the poor fellow would 
 send off an excuse to his host, and run home to fill 
 his knapsack with bread, and onions, and dried 
 fish ; and his wife would stuff wool under his cuirass 
 to keep the cold from his bones ; and then he would 
 go, ankle-deep in slush, forth into the misty night, 
 — lucky if his rear-rank man were not some ir- 
 repressible metaphysician who would entertain him 
 during the march out with a disquisition on the Pre- 
 existence of the Soul, or the difference between 
 Sense and Sensation. 
 
 And it might be that some fine morning, — or, what 
 was worse, on some morning that was anything but 
 fine, — he would find himself in the thick of a naval 
 fight off some reef notorious for shipwrecks. There 
 he would sit on his leather pad, sea-sick, sore, and 
 terrified ; the blade of his oar hitting now against a 
 shattered spar, and now across a floating corpse, as 
 he vainly tried to put on an effective spurt; the man 
 in front of him catching a crab, and the man behind 
 him hitting him in the small of the back at every 
 stroke; the boatswain's flute out of tune, and the 
 whole crew out of time; his attention distracted by 
 observing a hostile galley dashing through the surge 
 with her beak exactly opposite the beach on which 
 he was posted. 
 
 Aristophanes has a charming passage contrasting 
 the comforts of peace with the hardships of war. " I 
 am glad," says the farmer, " I am glad to be rid of 
 helmets, and rations of garlic and musty cheese : for 
 
28o AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 I do not love battles : but I do love to sit over the 
 fire, drinking with hearty comrades, and burning 
 the driest of the logs, and toasting chick-pease, and 
 setting beech-nuts among the embers, and kissing 
 the Thracian housemaid while my wife is washing 
 herself in the scullery. 
 
 " For, when we have got the seed into the ground, 
 and the gods have been pleased to send us a timely 
 rain, nothing is so delightful as to hear a neighbour 
 say : ' Well, Comarchides, what do you propose to 
 do next? I am for sitting indoors and drinking, 
 while the gods do their duty by the land. So come, 
 wife, toast us three quarts of kidney-beans, and pick 
 out the best of the figs, and let the Syrian wench 
 call in the farm-servants: as this is not weather for 
 dressing the vines, or grubbing in the mud, while 
 the soil is all soaking wet. And let some one fetch 
 me out the thrush and the two finches: and there 
 ought to be a black-pudding in the larder, and four 
 pieces of jugged hare: (unless indeed the cat has 
 made off with them, for I heard her at some mis- 
 chief last evening :) so let the foot-boy bring us three, 
 and give the fourth to his father. And send to ask 
 .^schinades to let us have some myrtle-boughs: 
 and the messenger on his way had best look in upon 
 Charinades, and see if he will come and drink with 
 us in honour of the rain with which the gods have 
 blessed our crops.' 
 
 "And, at the time of year when the grasshopper 
 is chirping his welcome tune, I dearly love to watch 
 my new Lemnian vines, and notice whether they 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 281 
 
 are as forward as they should be : for I am told they 
 are an early sort. And I like to see the wild fig 
 swelling daily ; and, at the moment it is ripe, I put 
 it to my mouth, and eat it, and say, ' Bless the dear 
 Seasons! ' And that is the way I grow plump and 
 sleek in the summer, and not by staring at a great 
 god-forsaken Brigadier-general, with three bunches 
 of feathers and a flaring red cloak, who is always 
 the first to run away when it comes to real fighting." 
 Had I the choice of time and place wherein to 
 spend the term of existence, considerations of re- 
 ligion and morality apart, I would without hesitation 
 prefer to be an Athenian in the age of Pericles; for 
 such a man led a life the plan of which was exquis- 
 itely tempered with good sense, refinement, and 
 simplicity. He knew nothing of the passions that 
 agitate the modern votary of fashion, who is forever 
 jostling amidst an endless throng of competitors to- 
 wards a common centre. He resided among the 
 friends of his childhood; among people who had 
 watched him, his virtues, and his foibles, from his 
 youth up. He had none of our temptations towards 
 assumption, insolence, and extravagance. It was 
 idle to attempt to impose upon folks who knew his 
 income to a drachma. If he aspired to cut a dash by 
 setting up a second chariot, or treating his guests to 
 Chian wine grown in the year of the earthquake, he 
 was aware that all his father's cronies were shaking 
 their heads, and wondering how long Aristippus, 
 the son of Pasias, would take about going to the 
 crows; for these ill-omened birds answered to what 
 
282 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 are called the dogs in English metaphorical natural 
 history. If he happened to be short-sighted when 
 an old schoolfellow passed him in the street, he was 
 aware that, at all the dinner-tables of the evening, 
 men would be wondering how the grand-nephew of 
 Ctesippus the process-server could venture to give 
 himself such high and mighty airs. If he felt any 
 aspiration towards a political career, he would think 
 twice when he saw on the front bench of his audience 
 those very contemporaries on whose backs, a few 
 years before, he had been hoisted three times a week 
 to be flogged for his mistakes in grammar and 
 arithmetic. And so it was that society then had a 
 less constrained and artificial aspect than it has ever 
 worn in any famous and highly civilized community. 
 Men talked for amusement and instruction, rather 
 than for display. They lived with those whom they 
 liked, not with those whom they feared. Their festi- 
 vities and social gatherings were not special and 
 extraordinary occasions, but formed an integral part 
 of their everyday existence. They did not dine an 
 hour and a-half later than was pleasant, nor sit up 
 five hours later than was wholesome. They did not 
 suffer themselves to be hustled upstairs by the ladies 
 of their family a little before midnight to dress for a 
 ball where they would have no space to dance. They 
 did not get together to settle the affairs of the nation 
 in a badly-ventilated senate-house at an hour when 
 all honest men should be in bed, — at an hour when, 
 if we are to believe certain cynics, all honest men 
 are in bed. 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 283 
 
 The Athenian rose early; and, after performing 
 a very primitive toilette, repaired forthwith to the 
 market-place, to hear the news, to transact his busi- 
 ness, and to make his purchases for the day. If he 
 purposed to entertain his friends in the evening, 
 there was no time to be lost. By seven in the morn- 
 ing the plumpest of the blackbirds, the whitest of 
 the celery, and the firmest of the great eels from the 
 Theban stewponds would have been bought up ; and 
 he would be forced to content himself with a string 
 of lean thrushes, and a cuttle-fish whose freshness 
 might be called in question. Perhaps, while he was 
 engaged in beating down the purveyor, he might 
 hear behind him a sudden rush of people; and, look- 
 ing round, would see two Scythian policemen sweep- 
 ing the square with a rope besmeared with red chalk. 
 Then he would know that a General Assembly was 
 to be held for the dispatch of business, and would 
 hurry off to secure a good place. And there he would 
 sit, (as an old Athenian describes himself,) groaning, 
 stretching, yawning, scratching his head, jotting 
 down notes, and waiting for the appearance of the 
 President and the Committee to open the meeting. 
 And presently, after a sufficiently long interval, the 
 Committee would come bustling in ; treadingoneach 
 other's toes, jostling for a good place, and trying to 
 look as if it was they who had been kept waiting by 
 the audience; for human nature is materially the 
 same, whether on the platform of Exeter Hall, or 
 round the tribune of the Athenian Assembly. And 
 thereupon the crier would proclaim : " Who wishes 
 
284 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 to speak about the Spartan treaty?" and the call 
 would be for "Pericles": and the prime-minister 
 would rise, with his right hand thrust into his bosom, 
 and something would be said which is still well 
 worth the reading. And, when public business was 
 concluded, after a light breakfast, our citizen would 
 return to his shop or his counting-house until the 
 first hour after noon; and then he would saunter 
 down to his favourite gymnasium, and thence to his 
 bath : for the old Greek did indeed regard his body 
 as a sacred vessel, which he was bound to keep clean, 
 fair, and fit for use, and would as soon have neglected 
 his daily meal as his daily exercise. 
 
 Let us suppose, however, that our friend has 
 sprained his wrist at quoits, or cricked his back 
 while wrestling, and accordingly has determined to 
 substitute an afternoon call for his athletic exercises. 
 On such a call let us take the liberty to accompany 
 him. Or rather let us, by the assistance of Plato, 
 follow Socrates and his friend Hippocrates to the 
 house of Callias, an Athenian person of quality, 
 much given to letters. The purpose of their visit 
 was to have a look at three famous sophists from 
 foreign parts, Protagoras of Abdera, Hippias of 
 Elis, and Prodicus of Ceos. " When we had arrived 
 within the porch," says Socrates, "we stopped 
 there to finish off the discussion of a question which 
 had cropped up in the course of our walk. And I 
 suppose that the porter heard us talking away out- 
 side the threshold: which was unfortunate; as he 
 was already in a bad temper on account of the num- 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 285 
 
 ber of sophists who were about the premises. So 
 when we knocked, he opened the door, and directly 
 he saw us he cried ; ' More sophists ! eh ! Master 's 
 not at home,' and slammed the door to. We, how- 
 ever, persevered, and beat the panels vigorously with 
 both hands : upon which he bawled through the key- 
 hole: ' I tell you, master's not at home.' ' But, my 
 good fellow,' said I, 'we don't want your master, 
 and we do not happen to be sophists. We have come 
 to see Protagoras : so just send in our names.' And 
 then he grumbled a good deal, and let us in. 
 
 "And, when we were inside, we found Callias 
 and his friends walking about in the corridor, seven 
 abreast, with Protagoras in the middle. And behind 
 them came a crowd of his disciples, chiefly foreigners, 
 whom the great man drags about in his train from 
 city to city, listening with all their ears to whatever 
 was said. And what amused me most was to observe 
 how carefully these people avoided getting in the way 
 of their master; for, whenever he and the rest of the 
 vanguard came to the end of the space, and turned 
 round, his followers parted to right and left, let him 
 pass through, and then wheeled about, and fell into 
 the rear with admirable regularity and discretion. 
 
 "And after this I noticed Hippias sitting on a 
 chair in the opposite corridor: and around him were 
 seated on footstools Eryximachus, and Phaedrus, and 
 a group of citizens and strangers. And they appeared 
 to be putting questions to Hippias concerning natural 
 science, and the celestial bodies: and he, sitting on 
 his chair, answered them in turn, and cleared up 
 
286 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 their several difficulties. And Prodicus was occupy- 
 ing a closet, which Callias ordinarily uses as a still- 
 room; but, on this occasion, what with his sophists 
 and their disciples, he was so hard put to it for space 
 that he had turned out all his stores, and made it into 
 a bed-chamber. So Prodicus was lying there, rolled 
 up in an immense number of blankets and counter- 
 panes; while his hearers had planted themselves 
 on the neighbouring beds. But, without going in, 
 I could not catch the subject of their conversation, 
 though I was very anxious to hear what was said, 
 (for I consider Prodicus a wonderfully wise person- 
 age,) because his voice was so deep that the closet 
 seemed full of an indistinct noise, something between 
 humming and buzzing." 
 
 In such a picture there is something mightily re- 
 freshing to a denizen of that metropolis where a rout 
 which commences at a quarter to twelve, and em- 
 braces a tithe of the Upper Ten Thousand, is con- 
 ventionally described on the cards of invitation by 
 the epithets "small" and "early." Such refined 
 simplicity, such homely culture, such easy vigour of 
 intellect, and such familiar play of fancy, have been 
 found nowhere since; for they can exist only in a 
 community that at the same time enjoys a large 
 amount of leisure and of vitality: in such a com- 
 munity as Athens, which was in truth an oligarchy 
 broad enough to present the symptoms of a demo- 
 cracy, andbased uponasystem of servile labour. The 
 number of the slaves was enormous. In Athens, 
 Corinth, and Aegina, they were to the free house- 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 287 
 
 holders in the proportion of twenty to one. For the 
 most part they were employed as hinds on their 
 master's estates, or artisans working for their mas- 
 ter's benefit. A skilled mechanic might be bought 
 for an average price of sixteen pounds ; and the net 
 proceeds of his labour ensured his proprietor some 
 thirty per cent, on the purchase-money. The father 
 of Demosthenes made a hundred and twenty pounds 
 a-year by his thirty-two sword-cutlers, and fifty 
 pounds a-year by a score of slaves in the pay of an 
 upholsterer. Large sums were given for accomplish- 
 ments and personal attractions, and yet larger for 
 honesty and high character. A flute-girl withapretty 
 face and a good ear would fetch a hundred pounds 
 in any market ; but the highest price on record was 
 given, by the very Callias whose acquaintance we 
 made above, for a trustworthy man to act as a viewer 
 in his mines. The rank and file, however, of the 
 minerswere the least esteemed, and the worst treated, 
 amongst the slave population. They wrought in 
 chained gangs, and died fast from the effects of the 
 unwholesome atmosphere. The domestic servants 
 were tolerably well off, and by many households 
 were regarded in the light of pets. The first comic 
 man of the Greek stage was generally some impu- 
 dent, pilfering jackanapes of a Thracian slave; who 
 came on rubbing his back, and howling and blub- 
 bering out of all proportion to the severity of a well- 
 merited castigation ; making jokes that read more 
 decently in their native Attic than in a translation of 
 modern Billingsgate ; and singing snatches of airs 
 
288 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 which, in their popularity and their servile origin, 
 answered to the Ethiopian melodies of our day. 
 
 But there was another and a very different class 
 of bondsmen. Ever and anon during time of war, 
 bleeding from recent wounds, and smeared with the 
 dust and sweat of the lost battle, there filed through 
 the streets of the victorius town long strings of down- 
 cast captives, who, the day before, had been fiour- 
 ishingmerchants, famous lawyers, mastersof science, 
 of arts, and of letters. It was not probable that such 
 men would forget, amidst the petty treats and in- 
 dulgences of a menial life, the time when they were 
 free citizens and happy fathers of families.^ Their 
 disaffection and discontent formed a perennial source 
 of weakness and danger to the republic. Fear begat 
 hatred, and hatred cruelty. Measures of precaution 
 grew into measures of repression: and repression 
 soon became another word for wholesale slaughter. 
 In Lacedaemon the government sanctioned a policy 
 of extermination, on the ground that the Helots 
 were in a chronic state of insurrection. Thucydides 
 tells us how the Spartan authorities, during the 
 
 ^ The "Captivi" of Plautus, which was the translation of 
 an Athenian comedy, turns on the fate of some prisoners of 
 this class who had been taken in a war between the Greek 
 states. Lessing pronounced it the most faultless drama in the 
 world. Macaulay, who read it five times in four years, had a 
 somewhat more discriminating, but a hardly less exalted, es- 
 timate of its value. "I like the Captivi better," he wrote, 
 "every time I read it. The great merit is in the Second and Third 
 acts. It excites a strong interest by natural means; nor is 
 there any ancient composition which breathes a higher and 
 more generous spirit of morality." 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 289 
 
 agony of their great struggle against the supremacy 
 of Athens, were driven to arm their serfs, and em- 
 ploy them on military duties; how two thousand of 
 the stoutest and the most courageous among their 
 number were publicly emancipated with every mark 
 of honour; and how, before the triumphal garlands 
 had withered on their brows, every man of the two 
 thousand had disappeared from the face of the land, 
 and was never again seen, alive or dead. And, in 
 the frequent recurrence of panic, the magistrates 
 would choose out the most active and fierce of the 
 young citizens, and send them forth in various 
 directions, provided with daggers and wallets of 
 food. To and fro they ranged, these bloodhounds 
 of a ruthless tyranny, and slew all the Helots of 
 sulky and dissatisfied appearance whom they met 
 while travelling about the country, and all who 
 happened, in Spartan opinion, to look as if they 
 would take pleasure in cutting Spartan throats. This 
 duty was considered so painful and degrading that 
 it obtained the title of the "crypteia," or "secret 
 service " ; and the names of those to whom it was 
 entrusted were carefully concealed. 
 
 Hellenic warfare, whether foreign or domestic, 
 might have lost something of its barbarity, if Hellenic 
 society had been more generally pervaded by the 
 milder tendencies of female influence. But, unfor- 
 tunately, the free married women held a most de- 
 graded and insignificant position. The mistress of a 
 family neither dined out with her husband, nor was 
 present at the table when he received his guests. 
 
 u 
 
290 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 Education and accomplishments were confined en- 
 tirely to ladies of quite another description. Those 
 renowned dames of Corinth, Athens, and Miletus, 
 who, (like Aspasia,) possessed the talents which 
 qualified them to hold a salon, belonged to a class 
 which has long ceased to exercise any ostensible 
 sway over modern politics, though it might with ad- 
 vantage engage somewhat less frequently and fondly 
 the attention of modern journalism. The same con- 
 dition of society may be met with in Bengal, where 
 native gentlemen, disgusted by the frivolous and 
 illiterate gossip of their zenanas, are driven to seek 
 intellectual sympathy in the company of clever and 
 cultivated nautch-girls. 
 
 The Spartan girls were brought up amidst the 
 manifold hardships andthesevere discipline enjoined 
 by their national lawgiver, whose object it was that 
 in courage and bodily strength the woman should 
 be to the man as the lioness to the lion. And so it 
 came about that in Lacedaemon the softer, — or rather 
 the less rugged, — sex was treated with a considera- 
 tion that had very little in common with our notion 
 of chivalry ; and which resembled not so much the 
 feelings of the Earl of Surrey towards the fair Geral- 
 dine as the respect with which Tom Sayers may be 
 supposed to have regarded Nat Langham.^ With 
 
 ^ The conversation in the " Lysistrata" of Aristophanes be- 
 tween the Athenian matron, and the Spartan girl, is worth 
 reading, in an expurgated translation. 
 
 Lysistrata. — Welcome, Lampito, you dearest of Lacedae- 
 onians. How lovely you are, you sweet one ! What a com- 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 291 
 
 this single exception the Hellenic matrons were in- 
 credibly debased in morals, habits, and understand- 
 ing. I blush, — across a score of intervening centuries 
 I blush, — to have written such ungallant words ; but 
 a single sharp phrase may surely be forgiven when 
 we recollect that, year after year, an Attic audience 
 witnessed with glee and approbation their wives and 
 daughters exposed to public derision and contempt. 
 Three of the wittiest among the extravaganzas of 
 Aristophanes are devoted to the faults and follies of 
 his countrywomen, whom he was never weary of 
 representing as drunken, lazy, gluttonous, silly, 
 sly, infinitely coarse in ideas and in conversation. 
 And, hard as the comedians were on them, the ladies 
 did not come off much better in the other branches 
 of literature. The two most eminent philosophers 
 of Greece both came to the conclusion that the whole 
 duty of woman was to obey her husband ; the popu- 
 lar tragic writer was of opinion that it would be an 
 excellent thing for mankind if babies could be born 
 without the intervention of a mother; and the mass 
 of his compatriots showed pretty clearly the relative 
 estimation wherein they held the sexes by speaking 
 instinctively, not of "wife and children," but of 
 "children and wife." Witness the conduct of Soc- 
 rates in the supreme hour of his life. When his 
 
 plexion ! and what splendid condition you are in ! you could 
 strangle a bull. 
 
 Lampito. — I should think so, by the gods. That comes from 
 the gymnasium, and from doing my jumping exercises regu- 
 larly. 
 
292 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 friends entered the prison, in the morning whereon 
 he had been appointed to die, they found him just 
 out of his bath, and his wife seated by him with a 
 child on her lap. "And then," to quote the narra- 
 tive left us by one of their number, "as soon as she 
 caught sight of us she broke out into the exclama- 
 tions which women use on such occasions, as ' O 
 Socrates, this is the last time these gentlemen will 
 ever again talk to you, or you to them.' And he 
 motioned to Crito, and said, — ' Crito, my friend, see 
 that some one takes this poor thing home.' So 
 Crito's people led her off bursting with grief; and 
 Socrates, sitting up on the bed, bent his leg towards 
 him, and rubbed it with his hand where it had been 
 galled by the fetter, and said : ' What a singular 
 thing, my dear friends, is that which men name 
 Pleasure! What a wonderful relation it bears to- 
 wards the sensation which is apparently its oppos- 
 ite ! ' " And so he went his way out of the world, 
 conversing on matters of far deeper import, in the 
 judgement of those present, than the love or the 
 despair of a woman. 
 
 One striking effect of a limited national exist- 
 ence was the intense love of country which was en- 
 gendered in the Greek mind. The calm, philosophi- 
 cal patriotism of the individual member of a vast 
 European people was faint indeed compared with the 
 flame which glowed in the bosom of an Argive or a 
 Corinthian. Those men loved their country because 
 their happiness, their comfort, their very existence, 
 was bound up in her well-being. An inhabitant of the 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 293 
 
 British Isles for the most part feels the misfortunes 
 and the prosperity of Great Britain only through 
 his pocket. He knows that his nation is at war with 
 Burmah or China merely by an increase of one per 
 cent, in the Income-tax, or a fall of two per cent, in 
 the Consols. If he is curious after such sights, he 
 may perhaps get a look at a captured banner, or at 
 the fireworks which commemorate an honorable 
 peace. If he be of a speculative turn, he may amuse 
 himself with doubting whether the Tower-guns are 
 firing in honour of a victory, or the birthday of one 
 of the younger princesses. But an old Greek knew 
 by very different signs that his country was in dan- 
 ger. Blazing corn-ricks, and smoking villages, and 
 the clouds of dust that marked the track of the hostile 
 cavalry, — such were the Renter's telegrams which 
 told him that the invader was abroad. To this hour 
 it is impossible to read without emotion the great 
 comedian's account, — half pathetic, half ludicrous, 
 — of the sufferings endured by the Athenian farmer 
 in time of war: how, after the incursion was over, 
 the poor fellow would go back to his holding, and 
 find the olive-trees hewed down, and the vines 
 burnt, and the wine-casks started into the oil vat, 
 and the pigs with their throats cut, and the well 
 choked with rubbish, and a big stone jammed into 
 the works of the trough where he mixed his dough. 
 It is not difficult to imagine the feelings of the 
 honest man the next time he found himself face to 
 face with the people who had done him such a mis- 
 chief; the eagerness with which he would await the 
 
294 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 signal of battle ; the zest with which he would charge 
 home when the trumpet blew; and the very poor 
 chance a Spartan or Theban would run whose life 
 depended on his forbearance. Victory, to an old 
 Greek, meant personal security, wealth of captives 
 and booty, and a fat slice of the conquered territory. 
 Defeat meant ruin and shame : it meant the burning 
 of his roof-tree, and the slaughter of his cattle, and 
 the running away of his slaves, and the selling of 
 his pet daughter to grace the harem of a Persian 
 satrap. No wonder that he was a patriot in a sense 
 that an inhabitant of London or Paris would be at 
 some loss to appreciate. 
 
 And so it befell that, when the hour of trial came, 
 these men gave an example of courage and self-devo- 
 tion, the memory of which will never perish. Two 
 several times Grecian civilization, which contained 
 the germs of all subsequent European culture and 
 progress, was within a hair's breadth of being swept 
 away by the flood of Oriental barbarism. On both 
 occasions that flood was stayed by the superhuman 
 efforts of Grecian self-sacrifice. In the year 490 before 
 Christ an innumerable host of Persians landed on 
 Athenian soil: — Persians, who had found nothing 
 that could resist the terror of their name from the 
 Indus to the ^gean Sea. The crisis was awful. The 
 states of Greece stood aloof in fear and amazement. 
 Sparta, by an unworthy subterfuge, excused herself 
 from coming to the aid of Athens. But the threatened 
 city was true to herself. Her able-bodied sons turned 
 out to a man, and marched quietly forth to make 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 295 
 
 appeal to the God of battles. Shopkeepers and 
 mechanics, artists, merchants, and farmers, they 
 took down their spears and shields, pocketed their 
 biscuit and salt fish, kissed their children, and walked 
 through their doors without any notion that they 
 were going to take part in an affair which all coming 
 generations would remember with gratitude and 
 admiration. And, when they came to the sacred 
 Plain of Marathon, they did not stop to count the 
 odds ; but went at a run straight into the midst of 
 the twenty myriads of Medes and Phoenicians. Out 
 of breath, but not of heart, — with such line as they 
 could keep, and with so much martial science as a 
 city militia might recall in the heat of contest, — 
 they fought foot to foot and beard to beard, until the 
 conquerors of the world broke and fled. And that 
 very night they marched home to their supper; — 
 all save one hundred and ninety and two, who were 
 lying, with clenched teeth, and knit brows, and 
 wounds all in front, on the threshold of their dear 
 country, where it becomes brave men to lie. 
 
 And again, after an interval of ten years, the in- 
 vader returned in such force that historians differ as 
 to the number of millions whom he brought with 
 him. He bridged the salt sea, and he cut through 
 the dry land. His army drank up streams, and in 
 a day devoured the substance of wealthy cities. 
 Straight on Athens he marched, offering her vast 
 power and privilege on condition of her agreeing to 
 his terms; and threatening her with fire and sword 
 if she remained obstinate. Again the rest of Greece 
 
296 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 turned recreant. Boeotia joined the banner of 
 Xerxes. The states of the Peloponnesus consulted 
 their own security: but Athens, — deserted, slighted, 
 and betrayed, — thought only of the common weal. 
 Themistocles enjoined his countrymen to give up 
 their city to destruction, place their women and 
 children in sanctuary among the neighbouring 
 islands, and take themselves on board their fleet. 
 Theyobeyed his injunctions. Sorrowful, but resolute, 
 they left their beloved homes to the spoiler; for they 
 knew, to quote the words of their own historian, that 
 men constitute a city, and not houses, nor temples, 
 nor ramparts bare of defenders. And, ere long, in 
 the Straits of Salamis, was fought that great sea- 
 fight which rolled back the tide of Asiatic conquest, 
 and saved the arts, the laws, the literature, and the 
 sciences of the West from wholesale and irremedi- 
 able extinction. 
 
 But there is a dark side to the picture of Hellenic 
 patriotism. A Greek readily allowed that he owed 
 his mother-cbuntry everything ; but his sense of duty 
 stopped there. In his dealings with foreign nations 
 he had no idea whatsoever of honour, forbearance, 
 humanity, or justice. He spoke no language save 
 his own. He did not profess any consideration for 
 mankind in general, and most assuredly he did not 
 practise such unless it happened to suit his individ- 
 ual interests. There is something most revolting in 
 the extreme ferocity of ancient warfare. Throughout 
 the histories of Xenophon and Thucydides mention 
 is seldom or never made of the wounded in the beaten 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 297 
 
 army. A soldier in the front rank who had lost his 
 shield or helmet, — a fugitive who had once been 
 trampled down in the melee, — knew in a moment that 
 he was a dead man. And not only did the belligerents 
 lose sight of compassion. They rarely consulted 
 the dictates of the most common honesty. It is 
 strange to read how these refined and highly-edu- 
 cated people coolly cut the throats of garrisons who 
 had surrendered on promise of life: how they voted 
 the extermination of all the males over the age of 
 sixteen in a town with which, a twelvemonth before, 
 they had been bound by the closest ties of social 
 and commercial intercourse. During the Pelopon- 
 nesian War the little city of Plataea, after a pro- 
 longed resistance, was given up to the Lacedaemon- 
 ians on condition that each of the defenders should 
 have a fair trial ; and the Spartan notion of giving 
 their enemies a fair trial consisted in asking them 
 whether they had done any service to the Spartan 
 cause during the war: a question which was, of 
 course, a cruel and insulting preliminary to murder. 
 It is impossible to read the story of the late 
 American war without being conscious at every turn 
 that the democratic patriotism of all ages is the same 
 in its leading features. In intelligent valour, in elas- 
 ticity of temper, in versatility, energy, and enterprise, 
 there was much in common between the Athenian 
 militia and the citizen warriors who marched under 
 Sherman and Grant. Our professional soldiers are 
 too apt to ignore these qualities, (which are the 
 peculiar excellences of an army of free men fighting 
 
298 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 for an object which they appreciate), and were for 
 ever dwelling upon that impatience of discipline, and 
 those occasional manifestations of unsteadiness in 
 the field, which were at least as noticeable at Delium 
 and Chaeronea as at Chancellorsville and Pittsburg 
 Landing. No free Greek city, save Sparta in her best 
 days, ever sent forth a force which could match the 
 armies of the Potomac and the Tennessee in the 
 years 1864 and 1865. Laconic in every sense was the 
 answer of the officer detached to hold the Allatoona 
 Pass against all comers, who, when he had been 
 surrounded by vastly superior numbers, replied to 
 the conventional summons to spare the needless 
 effusion of blood by quietly observing that he was 
 ready for the needless effusion of blood whenever it 
 should suit the Confederate general : — gallant words 
 which he did not fail to make good. And Leonidas 
 and his countrymen, performing their national 
 toilette in preparation for the death which they knew 
 to be inevitable, find a parallel among those veterans 
 in Meade's army, who, when their Division was 
 ordered upon a desperate service, were observed to 
 be silently writing their names upon slips of paper 
 and pinning them to the breasts of their blouses. 
 
 Nor did these modern republicans fall short of the 
 Greeks in their preformance of the last offices to- 
 wards those who had fallen in war. From every 
 corner of that vast battle-field, stretching over eigh- 
 teen hundred miles from Maryland to farthest Texas, 
 the railways brought back the embalmed bodies of 
 their slain to the farmsteads of Vermont and Illinois. 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 299 
 
 Then, too, were heard once more, in unconscious 
 imitation of old Athenian custom, panegyrics pro- 
 nounced over the honoured dead by chosen orators in 
 solemn assembly of the people. Such was the speech 
 of Mr. Lincoln at the consecration of the cemetery 
 at Gettysburg, — a speech conceived in the spirit of 
 what is perhaps the most touching passage of the 
 funeral oration in the Second Book of Thucydides. 
 Such, too, was the ode recited at the Commemoration 
 of the Harvard University, which fell in the July im- 
 mediately following the close of the war, by James 
 Russell Lowell, himself a professor at that institu- 
 tion. The circumstances were in themselves a poem. 
 Ninety-five graduates and undergraduates, most of 
 them quite young men, had perished in the course 
 of the past four years. Twenty-six had died of 
 fatigue, exposure, and camp epidemics, and sixty- 
 nine by the enemy's fire. Hitherto known on our 
 side of the water by productions in which his muse 
 utters the accents of wisdom and patriotism from 
 behind a comic mask, the poet here adopts that tone 
 of grave and elevated simplicity which is the essence 
 of lyric majesty. 
 
 "We sit here in the Promised Land 
 
 That flows with Freedom's honey and milkj 
 
 But 'twas they won it, sword in hand. 
 
 Making the nettle danger soft for us as silk. 
 We welcome back our bravest and our best; 
 Ah me ! not all ! Some come not with the rest 
 
 Who went forth brave and bright as any here! 
 
300 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 I strive to mix some gladness with my strain, 
 
 But the sad strings complain, 
 
 And will not please the ear. 
 I sweep them for a Paean, but they wane 
 
 Again and yet again 
 Into a dirge, and die away in pain. 
 In these brave ranks I only see the gaps, 
 Thinking of dear ones whom the dumb turf wraps, 
 Dark to the triumph which they died to gain. 
 Fitlier may others greet the living. 
 For me the past is unforgiving. 
 
 I with uncovered head 
 
 Salute the sacred dead. 
 Who went, and who return not. — Say not so! 
 'Tis not the grapes of Canaan that repay, 
 But the high faith that failed not by the way. 
 Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave ; 
 No ban of endless night exiles the brave; 
 
 And to the saner mind 
 We rather seem the dead that stayed behind. " 
 
 These sentiments recall to mind the expressions 
 used by Pericles when speaking of the Athenians 
 who fell in the Samian war: " They are like the Im- 
 mortal Gods : for the Gods themselves are not visible 
 to us; but from the honours they receive, and the 
 blessings they bestow, we conclude that they are 
 immortal: and so it is with those who have died for 
 their country."^ 
 
 ^ The same idea is put in not less beautiful words by the New 
 England poet : 
 
 "They come transfigured back, 
 Secure from change in their high-hearted ways." 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 301 
 
 The memorial volumes towhich Lowell's odeforms 
 a fit preface present a very different picture of the part 
 played by New England, and the Western States, 
 from that which some of our contemporary orators 
 and writers thought fit to sketch for our information. 
 There, in the first pages, we may read how James 
 Wadsworth, one of the most influential of Northern 
 country gentlemen, at the age of fifty-four abandoned 
 comfort, and position, and domestic ties, and fought 
 through all the great Virginian battles, until, in the 
 crisis of the terrible conflict of the Wilderness, at 
 the head of his shattered division he threw himself 
 across Longstreet's victorious path. At last his 
 people gave way, and went back without him. He 
 was found by a Confederate officer "in the woods, 
 fifteen paces to the left of the Plank Road. None of 
 the Federal dead or wounded were more than twenty 
 or thirty yards nearer than he was to the open field, 
 towards which the attack had been directed. He was 
 lying upon his back under a shelter-tent, which was 
 extended over him at about three feet from the ground, 
 the two upper corners being attached to boughs of 
 trees, and the lower ones and the sides supported 
 by muskets. The officer recognized him by a paper 
 with his name on it, which had been pinned to his 
 coat. His appearance was perfectly natural, and his 
 left hand grasped the stock of one of the supporting 
 muskets near the ground. His fingers played with 
 the trigger; and he occasionally pushed the piece 
 from him as far as he could reach, still grasping it 
 in his hand. No medical skill could save his life. 
 
302 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 He lingered from Friday until Sunday morning, 
 the eighth of May." 
 
 We may read, too, of men weakly, poor, and some 
 already no longer in their first youth, who went 
 into the ranks as common soldiers, at the call of 
 conscience, and not of glory. Take, for instance, a 
 former student of Harvard, who graduated in 1856, 
 and in January, 1864, enlisted in the "Fourteenth 
 Massachusetts Battery." Being of delicate constitu- 
 tion he contracted a severe cold, which brought on 
 congestion of the lungs. He went home on furlough, 
 and returned thence, not yet cured, to camp, "but was 
 dropped for physical disability, without having been 
 mustered into the service. Persevering in his efforts 
 to join the army he went to Hartford, Connecticut, 
 and enlisted as a private during the same month, 
 but was again taken ill before being assigned to any 
 regiment, and died at Hartford, April 17, 1864, aged 
 twenty-nine years. His friends were with him in 
 his last illness, and bore his body home for burial. 
 Thus died, after two enlistments within two months, 
 both times as a private soldier, and the second time 
 with the hand of death almost visibly upon him, a 
 young man who was scarcely known even to his 
 classmates, and who was yet endeared to those who 
 knew him by many amiable qualities. He died with- 
 out seeing a battle-field ; his name hardly appears 
 upon the military records of his country ; but he 
 gave her all he had to give, — even his life." 
 
 Later in the book, when the births begin to date 
 no earlier than the Forties, we come upon lads of 
 
AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 303 
 
 the type that our Universities know so well ; deep in 
 Plato, and Emerson, and Carlyle; for ever discuss- 
 ing the comparative merits of the life of action and 
 the life of contemplation ; pining after an ideal, and 
 finding it, where once they little expected, in a brief 
 career of hardship and peril ; going home to Boston 
 or Philadelphia to be cured of their wounds, like 
 schoolboys returning for the holidays, until, after 
 some murderous day, instead of the son or brother, 
 there came a letter from the commanding officer, 
 accompanied by a sword, or a watch, or a pocket- 
 book scribbled over with the familiar hand-writing. 
 Such was Charles Russell Lowell, one of Sheridan's 
 ablest cavalry colonels, at nineteen much given to 
 mysticism and transcendentalism; at nine-and- 
 twenty, in the moment of victory, shot through 
 neck and lung on the back of the fourteenth charger 
 which he had ridden in the course of the war. Such 
 were Robert Gould Shaw and his fellows, steadfastly 
 facing the scorn and ridicule bestowed on all who 
 served with black regiments; cheerfully submitting 
 to the prospect of meeting with neither quarter nor 
 Christian burial, and being huddled into a trench 
 along with their dead negroes: — a shameful grave 
 in the estimation of a Southern planter, but one 
 where a brave man may rest as peacefully as in a 
 village churchyard, and as nobly as beneath the 
 aisle of a proud and ancient minster. And to think 
 that the very existence of these men, — our equals in 
 birth, circumstances, andeducation, — more fortunate 
 than us in that they possessed a cause for which 
 
304 AN ANCIENT GREEK WAR 
 
 they had a right to labour and to suffer, — was suc- 
 cessfully concealed from us home-staying youth! 
 That we were almost brought to believe that a nation 
 composed of descendants from the Royalist chivalry 
 of the Seventeenth Century had been subjugated by 
 a heterogeneous mob of aliens officered by political 
 jobbers ! 
 
 " Who now shall sneer? 
 Who dare again to say we trace 
 Our lines to a plebeian race? 
 
 Roundhead and Cavalier! 
 Dreams are those names erewhile in battle loud. 
 Forceless as is the shadow of a cloud 
 
 They live but in the ear. 
 That is best blood that hath most iron in't 
 To edge resolve with, pouring without stint 
 
 For what makes manhood dear." 
 
 THE END 
 
 CHISWICK PRESS : PRINTED BY CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.