Citation
The Sydenham Sindbad

Material Information

Title:
The Sydenham Sindbad a narrative of his seven journeys to wonder-land
Uniform Title:
Sindbad the sailor
Creator:
C., M. A ( Binding designer )
Evans, Edmund, 1826-1905
Meadows, Joseph Kenny, 1790-1874
Evans, Edmund, 1826-1905 ( Engraver )
Meadows, Joseph Kenny, 1790-1874 ( Illustrator )
J. & C. Brown & Co ( Publisher )
William Clowes and Sons ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
J. & C. Brown & Co.
Manufacturer:
W. Clowes and Sons
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
<8>, 311 p., <8> leaves of plates : ill. ; 19 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Voyages, Imaginary -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Jealousy -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
History, Ancient -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Art -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
National characteristics -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1861 ( rbbin )
M.A.C -- Signed bindings (Binding) -- 1861 ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1861
Genre:
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) ( rbbin )
Signed bindings (Binding) ( rbbin )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Summary:
Fred, like Sinbad of old, entertains his friends with tales of his marvelous journeys carried by a Roc to ancient Egypt, ancient Greece, a formal garden, Weissnichtwo, ancient Rome, Moorish Spain, and Ninevah. He also presents them with a "Guide to Wonderland" which contains a list of art exhibits gathered from all over the world.
General Note:
Binding design signed: "MAC"
General Note:
Baldwin Library copy inscribed date: 1861.
Funding:
Brittle Books Program
Statement of Responsibility:
illustrated with drawings by Kenny Meadows ; engraved by Edmund Evans.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026980240 ( ALEPH )
13448058 ( OCLC )
ALH8766 ( NOTIS )

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SYDENHAM SINDBAD.



FRONTISPIECE,





Hail aS me

FRED RELATING HIS WONDERFUL ADVENTURES,—P. 6,











aide

THE

Sydenham Sindbad;

A NARRATIVE OF HIS SEVEN JOURNEYS

TO

WONDERLAND.

“ Know’st thou the Land? Know’st thou that pillared pile?
Bright are the halls, and fair the chambers smile,
Where marble statues stand.”—GorrHe,

Jliustrated with Drawings by Kenny Seanotvs,
Engraven by Enmund Evans,

LONDON:
J. & C. BROWN & CO, AVE MARIA LANE.





LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,





eee eS













CONTENTS.
‘DO NOT KNOW TILL THEY HEAR IT oe a Ee PAGE 1
CHAPTER 11,—THE Biase JOURNEY .. oe ve a ee 7
CHAPTER II,—SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY _ se a5 seo Ok
CHAPTER IV.—SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY oA oO 54 ~ 66
CHAPTER V.—SINDBAD’s FOURTH JOURNEY... od 36 oo 06.
CHAPTER VI.—SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY .. a Se ~ 86
‘CHAPTER VII.—SINDBAD’S SIXTH JOURNEY AB oo 3: 96
3 Bae onarree viitabernpaav's SEVENTH JOURNEY as *s -- 109
OHAPTER 1.7 LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE .. be Sade eee BO
" CHAPTER X.—THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL ai ao 3 -. 166
SINDBAD'S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND... er cd me - 207 ; 3
CHAPTER XI,—TELESCOPIC, HOMILETIC, AND VALEDICTORY .. .. 309 . <







LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.



.—FRED ON HIS JOURNEY.
FRONTISPIECE.—FRED RELATING HIS WONDERFUL ADVENTURES.

PAGE

60

90

- 99



oy

THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

CHAPTER I.

WHAT ALL THE WORLD AND HIS WIFE KNOW, AND WHAT THEY DO NOT
KNOW TILL THEY HEAR IT.

Att the world knows how Hindbad, lamenting with a loud
voice his poverty. underneath the windows of Sindbad, was over-
heard by that great traveller, and invited into the house, in
order that he might hear the recital of Sindbad’s marvellous
journeys by sea and by land. All the world knows how
Hindbad, in listening to the story of the wealthy Sindbad,
learnt that his riches were not got by an Open Sesame or a
lifting of the finger, but by many laborious voyages and in the
teeth of many perils. All the world knows how Sindbad
travelled with a Roc whose egg was as large as the dome of
Saint Paul’s; what terrors he encountered in the Valley of
Diamonds, in the island of the Cannibal Ogre whose eye he
poked out with red-hot meat-skewers, in the country where they
bury living husbands with dead wives and vice versé, and from
the embraces of the horrible Old Man of the Sea, till that dis-
agreeable individual made himself tipsy and fell off his back.
All the world knows, in brief, how Sindbad won his wealth, how
Hindbad was edified by knowing that not he alone, but others,
had had to work and fight for their most valuable possessions,
and how Sindbad made him comfortable every evening, during
B



2 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuapr, I,

the period which the narration of his wonderful voyages occupied,
by a present of a hundred sequins. These things all the world
knows perfectly well; but there are things which neither all the
world, nor you, nor all the world’s wife, know anything about
at present. I know them. I could keep them to myself if I
chose. But I do not choose. On the contrary, it is my inten-
tion to communicate them to you in the first instance, trusting
that all the world and his wife may hear of them through your
kind instrumentality, and be as much obliged to me as you will
be. And there is to be no delay about it; I shall begin this
very minute, this very moment!

This is what all the world and his wife do not know, till I tell
you, and you tell them :—

In the reign of the mighty sovereign whose image is on the
half-crown your grandpapa put into your teacup last birthday
morning, there lived in London, exactly as Hindbad lived in
Bagdad, only in a more comfortable way by far, a little boy
whose name was— Bos; not a letter more, not a letter less.
Bob he was, and Bob you will please to call him. I cannot
put two syllables into his name, because Hindbad’s name had
two. Nor can I make him a porter, because Hindbad was one.
Bob was a young gentleman at home for the Midsummer
holidays, but at present on a visit at the house of a schoolfellow
who lived in a beautiful country about four miles from the
General Post Office, Saint Martin’s-le-Grand, called Clapham.

During this visit, Bob,—who was a fine, cheerful fellow, but
rather rackety, and also a little apt to play out of playtime, and
let his books get dusty when they were uot forced into his hand,
—our dear Bob had been much struck with the superior infor-
mation of his schoolfellow Frep, and he felt, once or twice, just
for a moment or two, half inclined to envy Fred the opportunities



Cuap. I. INTRODUCTION. 3

his larger attainments seemed to give him of cultivating the
acquaintance of his elders. Fred was listened to whenever he
spoke; Bob was not. Fred talked freely with his seniors who
wore stand-up collars and tailed coats, and they listened to
him, and answered him again, and went on conversing ; Bob
could only get a casual remark in here and there, with a stroke
of the head, and a laugh, and perhaps a romp in return. But,
what was sadder than all, and went right through Bob’s heart
and came out on the other side like an arrow, was the circum-
stance that Fred’s company was always sought by his own
cousins Amy and Bella, and by Bob’s sister Hetty, who would
walk arm-in-arm with him, and seem glad when he would
talk with them, and clap their hands when he was to accom-
pany them anywhere, “because,” said Amy, and Bella, and
Hetty, “Fred can explain what you see and hear so nicely ;’—
while to Bob they behaved quite differently, though very kindly
indeed. They would take him by the hand, instead of leaning on
his arm, and rather show him things than ask him to show them
things, and never ask him questions as they did Fred. All this
was very painful to the feelings of Bob, and once or twice,
during his stay, he let a big tear fall on the hoop. he was
trundling side by side with Hetty, and wiped his eye with the
end of his stick first and the cuff of his jacket-sleeve afterwards.

Jacket-sleeve, indeed! The cup of our dear Bobby’s sorrow
was not yet full. One day, Fred, in Bob’s presence, was
summoned from the garden by the housemaid, with an air of
mystery which betokened something fresh and important in the
wind, to say nothing of the dignified step with which Fred
~ returned, after the lapse of ten minutes or thereabouts, to the
play-ground. Bob looked hard at him, and so did Amy and
Bella and Hetty,—harder indeed than Bob, being ladies and

B2



4 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, T.

having more curiosity—with that inquisitive beseeching look
which means asking a question without a word being spoken ;
but Fred maintained a solemn silence, and went on with the
game they had been playing. As they were returning to the
house at dusk, Hetty went close up to Fred, and whispered in
his ear. At first, Fred only shook his head and pretended to
push her away ; but, after a little coaxing, he whispered in her
ear too, something which made her clap her hands and look very
pleased. “Ah!” thought Bob, “he has told her the secret—I
wonder if I shall ever know it!”

Bob’s wonderment did not last very long. In exactly five
days it came to an unexpected end. Fred was missing from
the morning game in the grounds. Suddenly he was espied,
arm-in-arm with Hetty, walking on a gravel path not far
off, in—a surtout coat! Tears rushed into Bob’s eyes, and
he was a melancholy boy for the rest of that day. At
bed-time he got a few minutes all to himself, in which to
bewail his jacket, and to say in his mind, “O, if I knew as
much as Fred, perhaps I might have a surtout in a year or two,
and take Bella to the Polytechnic, instead of Bella taking me
and buying me Banbury cakes as she would for a baby!” So
Bob, who had been reading Robinson Crusoe, went to sleep and
dreamt that he was wrecked on a desolate island; that Friday
came to see him in a surtout coat and a stand-up collar; that
he lived in a hut like a diving-bell, with Bella in the corner
munching Banbury cakes all day long, and repeating what
‘Fred had told her when they went to the Polytechnic, only she
did not speak plainly because her mouth was so full of puff-paste
and jam.

The next day, Bob, unable to surmount his trouble, and
pining for a surtout and a stand-up collar, walked solitarily



Cuap, I. INTRODUCTION. 5

about the garden, instead of complying with Fred’s invitation to
stay in-doors and hear him tell curious stories to Amy and
Bella and Hetty. But dear little Bella kept paying such a
divided attention to Fred’s instructive and entertaining speeches
that, at last, that young gentleman stopped short, and said he
wouldn’t tell any more nice things unless Bella listened.

Bella observed, rather tartly, that “‘she wanted Bob.”

“‘Then,” said Mr. Fred, “go and fetch Bob, and make
haste about it, or else well go on without you.” So Bella went
out to fetch Bob, putting on one of her pleasantest smiles,
because she feared he was offended about something,

Now Bobby was drawing a garden-roller about for amuse-
ment, and looking very warm indeed, when he saw Bella tripping
his way; but he took out his handkerchief, and wiped his
face, and freshened himself up, and made himself fit to speak to
a lady, by the time she got close to him. “Bobby, dear,” said
Bella, laying her little hand on his arm in the most winning way,
“why don’t you come in and hear Fred talk? He’s going to tell
us all about his travels, just like Sindbad the sailor! What is
the matter with you, Bobby mine ?”—This, you will remember, is
just the way the servants of Sindbad came out to Hindbad when
his soliloquy had been overheard. Now Bob was ashamed to
say, “I’m sulky because I haven’t got a surtout coat ;” so he said
‘¢O Bella, I wish I knew as much as Fred does!” and lifted his
cuff to his eye, in a manner that cut poor little Bella to the
heart. But she cheered him up, and smiled sweetly, and put
her arm round his neck, saying, “Is that all, my Bob?
Why, come and hear Fred say what he knows; and then, of
course, you'll know it too, and perhaps your pa will give you a
surtout like his!”

“QO,” thought Bobby, “O, what a wonderful girl is Bella!



6 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, I.

_ She has divined my most secret thought! I will go with her, and
listen to Fred, and see how soon I can know as much as he
does.” So Bob walked along with Bella towards the house
in a little better humour. When they got inside the room,
Bella said, “ Now then, Sindbad, strike up! Tell us all your
travels; and this is Hindbad come to hear you, see!”’

“* Bella,” said Fred, “do you imagine that is the way
Sindbad’s servants addressed him when they introduced Hind-
bad? Did they tell Sindbad to ‘strike up,’ think you? If
this is to be an Arabian Night’s Entertainment, please to behave
something like an Arab, Miss Bella. The Orient, dear, is the
land of courtesy.”

“QO, Fred, don’t be too serious,” replied Bella. » “I am like
an Arab—a wild Arab!” Now it was not in our good-
natured Sindbad to resist this; so he began as follows, little
Bella keeping close to Bob out of good-nature, because he
appeared dull and low-spirited.



Cuap, IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 7

CHAPTER II.

THE FIRST JOURNEY.

“ to magnify what I have done, but it certainly does appear to
me that my travels are far more wonderful than those of Sind-
bad, or Robinson Crusoe, or Ulysses, or Marco Polo, or Robert
Knox, or Busbequis, or Captain Cook, or Mrs. Ida Pfeiffer.
More wonderful, considered both as to what I have seen, and
the time, and the space, and the means for seeing it. Call me
Sindbad then, if you please, but be prepared to hear stranger
things than any related by the Sultaness Scheherazade ; and note,
at the same time, that whatever I tell you is strictly true, and
that you can follow my example almost any day you please.

“T¢ was on a fine afternoon last holiday-time that, not being
disposed to read, and having nothing particular to do, I made
up my mind, instead of idling about, to go to E@ypt, and be
home to tea.”

This made them all titter, and Bella and Bob laughed out
aloud.

“To go to Egypt, and be home in time for tea,” resumed
Fred, in a stern voice; “and if you girls don’t keep the peace,
without interrupting me again, I’ll write a note to the Great
Sphinx, who is my particular acquaintance, and ask her just to
come and eat you up, as she did the people who couldn’t solve
the riddle about the animal that walked on four legs when young,
on two when mature, and on three when old! To go to Egypt
before tea, I say ; and, in pursuance of that intention, I placed



8 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. II.

in my pocket a magical talisman bought by papa, made out of
a piece of card, on which were inscribed mysterious ciphers in-
telligible to certain parties; and, feeling very fresh and strong,
struck out on foot in the direction of Dulwich. As I did not
go into the College there, founded by Alleyne the player, I
cannot now tell you anything about the picture-gallery, or about
the quality of the ale and bread-and-cheese the inmates still
supply, as bound by the Founder's will, to the hungry and
thirsty traveller. Nor will I rebuke the incredulity of those
who do not believe in the Man in the Moon, by stating the
conversation which I overheard, in passing, between the con-
ductor of an omnibus and the Man in the Half-Moon. Leaving
these matters, I will simply state that I had a very pleasant
walk of about five miles, through a richly-wooded country, and
that at last I had to ascend a steep hill, from which the eye
commanded a very beautiful prospect indeed. After resting a
moment at the summit, I proceeded—by a road which I need not
particularly point out now, as a better one is open to future
travellers—to a certain barrier, which gave way upon my pre-
senting the talisman, and allowed me to make the best of my
way to Egypt, which I did by keeping to the left till I reached
it, having accomplished the whole of the journey in about an
hour and a half, without undergoing the smallest inconvenience,
and in the boots which I have on at the present moment.
“Standing in the doorway of the Temple which lay before
me, I devoted a few minutes to reflection and observation.
How could I forget that I was in the country where Joseph had
fed his brethren during the famine in Canaan; where little
Moses had been found wailing in the green rushes on the banks
of the blue river by the good-natured princess, Pharaoh’s
daughter, and rescued from his intended grave; where that





EGYPT! AND THE EGYPTIANS.—P. 9.



Cuar. IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 9

same Moses had grown up, learned in all the wisdom of the
Egyptians, to be the leader and deliverer of those Jews who
had built the pyramids, being denied straw to bind the aay of
which the bricks were made; the land to which Plato the wise
came for wisdom, and Antony the brave to lose his empire—
a vast, solemn, mysterious, changeless land, Eaypt, the mother
of the nations? Something of the serenity and mystery which
belong to all that is Egyptian stole over me as I stood—and
I was only roused to look about me by the discordant noises
which assailed my ears in different directions. On the one
hand I heard a party of mourners keeping up their howling
lamentations over a dead body; and on the other the songs of
the Nile boatmen, some of whom, however, were quarrelling
and making a very disagreeable screeching noise; while, cer-
tainly, I cannot venture to put their songs in comparison with
what is told of those of the Venetian gondoliers.

“Stirred from my trance by these sounds, I began to look
about me, and found I was on an elevation from which I could
command a view of the whole country as far as the eye would
carry me. It happened to be the period of one of the Nile
inundations, and I saw a sight which would have frightened
Bella a little, I fancy, as she is so timid of the water. What
do you think it was? Why, a party of Egyptian boys and
girls, swimming from one village to another, in the gayest
manner—kick, kick, splash, splash, shouting and hollaing, and
playing pranks with each other, just as if the ichneumon had
not been munching the crocodile’s eggs on the muddy bank ;
just as if the crocodile himself were not close by with his long
scaly back and horrible teeth! See what use does. Bella is
frightened of an ox in the street. A little girl about her age
_in Egypt pinches her little sister for fun, and pulls her hair,
BS



10 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IT,

while the crocodiles are skulking about ready to make mince-
meat of them! What was stranger still was to see a couple of
the men who make swimming a pursuit tie their feet together,
and float along the water upon their backs, each man holding a
pipe in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other! We Eng-
lish boys have to learn to swim; but, I suppose, in a country
which is so often under water, it comes quite natural, as it does
to tittlebats.”’

“Say stickle-backs, Fred,” interrupted Amy.

“Amy, don’t be pedantic,” replied Fred. “I don’t know
whether little boys go fishing for tittlebats in the Nile, with
bottles and rods, as they do on the New River and the River
Lea; but they have some curious fish in that river of theirs
over and above what you might expect. ‘There are herrings,
and mullets, and salmon, and so on; but there are, besides,
two or three fish of a deadly sort. For instance, the Schielar,
which has fins that cannot be eaten, because they are poisonous ;
and the Fahaka, which is said to be poisonous altogether, in
addition to a stinging or venomous quality in its skin. But I
should not have thought to mention fish, if it had not been for
tittlebats.

“My great regret was that I was too early this trip for the
Grand Nile Carnival, which takes place at Cairo in August.
That is a fine sight, I can tell you! The waters of the Blessed
River are allowed to glide into the city, the embankments being
cut away, amid the acclamations of the people and the salvos
of cannon. The city is illuminated, and, as the festival is held
in the dusk of the evening, not even the light of the lamps
and fireworks can always keep the mad populace from losing
their lives in plunging into the water after the coins which are
then thrown in to be scrambled for. This is part of the cere-



Cuar. IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 11

mony, and it often results in the drowning of several persons ;
so that the ceremony, as at present performed, does not differ
so very much from that of ancient days, when a human sacrifice
was offered up to the god Serapis. I would rather be one of
the people in the boats, as they float into the city with the
tide of the released river, whose welcome waters glide into the
open places, freshen up the trees, and make Cairo sweet and
clean for a time at least. Well may the townsfolk come flock-
ing forth as they do on these occasions, drinking the water,
bathing in it, and calling on Allah, if the water of the Nile
be, as some one has said, to other waters what champagne is
.to other wines. There is a mad Arab poet who sings that if

Mahomet had tasted the waters of the Nile, he would have
begged leave of Allah to keep out of Paradise and stay here
to drink it for ever! But then, the Egyptians do not make
their river a nasty, dirty, town ditch. They worship it, and we
ought, I think, to have more respect for Old Father Thames
than to serve him the shabby tricks we do.

. “ Well, I was too early for this great festival of the Kalige, as
it is called, for it was spring. But I could see and admire the
beautiful lotus-flower, their waterlily, of a fine white and blue
colour. This, like the river on which it floats, and, I suppose,
because it floats there, was ever their Sacred Flower. Turning
round, I could see that the capitals of the columns in the
Temple behind me were shaped like it; and I perceived from
the sculptures and paintings, that its half-opened calyx was the
model for the Egyptian drinking-cup. They could scarcely
have a prettier model as to shape; and what sweeter contrast
of colour than white and blue? It is the very thing which so
delights us in the summer sky.

_ “The sycamore-tree, from which the ancient Egyptian made



12 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuapr. II.

his coffin, after making its fruit an article of diet during his
life, was not yet in leaf; but I perceived the quails were begin-
ning to flock in, in anticipation of the harvest. I saw crows,
about the size of sparrows, or a little bigger, picking up scorpions
and insects; swallows, and kingfishers, and wild ducks, just as
on the banks of an English river. Onions I saw in plenty, and
very nice the Egyptian onion is.”

“ Better than Spanish ?” inquired Amy.

“A great deal nicer, Amy, dear. Nobody can tell how
nice an Egyptian onion is, who has not tasted one. The proof
of the pudding is in the eating, you know. I saw, besides, figs,
olives, grape-vines, and aloes and other medicinal plants; and
also the henna, which does not flower till June or July. Hetty,
let me look at your fingers. ‘There, ladies and Bob, look at
Hetty’s finger-ends. What a pretty pinky-white colour under
the finger-nails! But those stupid Egyptians actually liked their
ladies to dye their finger-nails of a muddy orange colour with
a paste made of the pounded leaves of the henna. How different
from the Greeks, who abstained, like wise people, from teasing
and patching the human form divine, and imitated its beauty,
as God made it, in everlasting types of strength and loveli-
ness for succeeding ages! But there is a wonderful heaviness
and tenacity about the Egyptian mind, and the ladies use
henna now just as they did three thousand years ago.”

‘“* How do we know that they did three thousand years ago?”
asked Bob.

“Look at the nails of the mummies and you will see. But
I was wrong, perhaps, to call the Egyptians stupid. It was not
respectful, and it was not true.”

“ Never mind, Fred,” interposed Amy, with a kind smile,
“We know you meant no harm. [I have heard papa say, no



Cuap, IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 13

people are so silly as they who are always wise. We shall
like you all the better if you make a little slip now and then.
Still, [ know my papa likes to hear ancient peoples spoken of
with respect. ‘They were part, he says, of the grand chain, and
were often much wiser than we see at a glance. He says it
sounds very priggishly for little boys and girls to be prating about
the ‘stupidity,’ and ‘superstition,’ and ‘barbarism’ of the ages
which produced the men whom all mankind have agreed to love
and reverence.”

“ Just so, Amy,” said Fred, looking very pleased—‘“ I’m
glad we are so philosophic. Quite an Academus, I declare.
And the fact is, these Egyptians, with their shaven chins and
almond eyes—”

“JT remember Joseph shaved himself when he went to in-
terpret the King’s dreams,” said Hetty.

“True. These shorn and shaven Egyptians were not stupid,
after all. Their religion had a great many wise things in it,
and some of their customs were very wise. There was a certain
immobility—a repose—an aversion from change, in the national
character, which prevented what we call progress, at least during
the periods that are historically known to us. But scantily
supplied as they were with some metals, they must have had
immense command of mechanical resources, besides the mathe-
matical genius and indomitable patience which we know them to
have possessed, to have been able to accomplish all they did
in architecture and sculpture. One great advantage they had,
as far as leisure is concerned—they were not forced to be agri-
culturists in our sense of the word. There was no need of
‘high farming’ in Egypt. The Nile was cultivator and fer-
tiliser all in one. Cast the seed on the waters, and it was
found after many days. So they had plenty of time to build



14 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IT.

pyramids, to hew tombs in rocks, to erect temples, watch the
stars, cultivate mathematics, and cut other nations in pieces,
All these things they did not neglect ; especially they did not
neglect the last. But there is scarcely any art or invention of
modern times of which you cannot find traces in the remains
of ancient Egypt; in sculpture, in painting, or in hieroglyph.
The newest thing of this week which sets all the world staring,
if it had a tongue, might very likely say to us, ‘O, I’m not new
at all; Moses knew all about me—and Thoth, and Tsoph, and
Psammetichus.’ But we must not exaggerate upon this subject
either, All our modern conveniences and minor appliances of
comfort and well-being seem to have been common enough. But
in these days of transmarine telegraphs, steam printing-presses,
and photography, we must not forget that the germ of an idea
is a very different thing from the same idea expanded into flower
and developed into fruit. .A great many of the ideas which are
proper to modern civilization, and are indeed its pride and
strength, never could expand or develop in any uation of
antiquity, where unequal laws, caste regulations actual ori m-
plied, énd incessant warfare, checked private enterprise and the
growth of thought in individual minds. Even in our own day
the first promulgator of anew thing for the benefit of the race has
often to starve and die unrewarded, seeing, with his fast-closing
eye, some one else walk over his body to claim a prize far beyond
his wildest hopes or demands.”

“Freddy, dear, you are quite eloquent, I declare! Have
you any invention that you want to bring out, and can’t for
want of capital? You speak so feelingly.”

“« Never mind, Miss Amy !—I was saying that the religion
of the Egyptians had a great many wise things in it, and that
some of their customs were sensible and praiseworthy. For in-



Cuap, IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 15

stance, what a capital plan it was for keeping their rulers in
order, to ordain that no king should be buried in his own tomb,
unless his reign had been a praiseworthy one; that if he had
been wicked or tyrannical the priests and the people might
deny him ‘honourable sepulture!’ Only, practically, the deci-
sion of the question whether a monarch had been good and just
or not lay so much with the priests, that the institution was
open to all the influences of regal bribery; and a good many
kings found it much easier to lavish enormous sums of money
and enormous quantities of human labour upon the adorning of
the temples for the gratification and agegrandisement of the
pontifis than to be good men. Amy, Hetty, Bella, Bob, all
of you—you have seen Egyptian sculptures in the British
Museum—you remember the faces they give to the sphinxes?”

* T should like to see a live spinx!” cried Bella.

“Say sphinx, Bella, and you shall see one as soon as ever I
can catch it. Well, you remember the faces of the sphinxes
and of the statues you have seen. There is one, for instance,
of Thothmes III. in the British Museum, the Pharaoh who
refused to let the Israelites go—now, call to mind as many
Egyptian faces as you can, recollect the peculiar expression,
and tell me if you think it open, candid, simple?”

“ No, no!” said all the voices at once, “they all look as if
they had a secret.”

“ Yes—there is something close, mysterious, reserved, about
the Egyptian character, as about Egypt itself. And some of
the people were terrible liars. Occasionally, antiquaries are
thrown on the beam-ends of their wits, when tracing Egyptian
chronology, by the almost amusing circumstance that some
kings have been naughty enough to strike out the names of
their predecessors upon the tombs, and have their own inscribed



16 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. II.

instead! Very pretty conduct, was it not? It is like modern
adulterations. You read CorrEE on the outside of a tin
canister, and inside you find Curtcory. That’s the way in
Egypt. / You read Thoth outside a tomb—inside you find Tsoph,
or Ptha, or some one else. You seldom find a tendency to the
mysterious, in human character, without a tendency to false-
hood also. The Egyptian religion was full of mysteries, and it
is difficult to get at it. Osiris, for whom the Sun sometimes
stands, was Gop, the God of Gods, the good principle, the source
and dispenser of life, light, and grace, and the judge of all men
living and dead. ‘Typhon was his opponent, the Evil One,
darkness, cruelty, barrenness; his emblem was the serpent.
Horus, the son’ of Osiris, is often represented with the head
of a hawk, which was sacred to the Sun, and piercing through
a snake’s' crest. Athor was Chaos, or Venus. Isis, the Moon.
The four guardian angels of the dead are drawn with the heads
of a man, an ape, a jackall, and a hawk. Cats, dogs, hawks,
the ibis, the beetle, the onion, the leek, were honoured with
some sort of worship, as emblems of the planets. But we must
remember, with regard to all idols in every nation, and in every
form of religion or superstition, that the kind and degree of
worship paid to ‘them would vary perpetually, according to the
character of the worshippers. Some men would kneel to an
image as if it were verily in itself a god; others would feel, or
seem to feel, a real god behind the stone, wood, metal, or clay.”

“ Fred is quite a philosopher,” said Amy, in a whisper to
Bella. Bella, seeing Bob look very attentive and serious, said
to him, very softly, so that no one else could hear—‘ Never
mind, Bob, we’ll soon be as clever as he is, won’t we?” Bob
smiled, and pressed her hand. \

“T wonder,” continued Fred, ‘if Peter the Great had been



Cuar. IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 17

an Egyptian, how he would have managed about the beetles,—
which were objects of worship, and were worn as a sort of sacred
ornament or charm in rings and necklaces, and sculptured on
seals, cups, and goblets. And how would Napoleon have got over
the little difficulty of cat worship? He was as frightened of
poor puss as the redoubtable Peter was of the black little insect
that we can kill by the hundred upon our kitchen floors! At
dead of night, once upon a time, his guards, summoned by his
cries for help, rushed into the mighty conqueror’s chamber to find
him, bathed with cold perspiration, lunging with naked sword
at a poor little cat in the hangings of the room!”

“T am sure, after that,” said Amy, “ Napoleon, for one, could
have been no hero to his valet. It takes off the greatness of
some people to see them at home.”

“Talking of home,” resumed Fred,—“ turning round towards
the Temple near which I stood, I could not help thinking that
there is no nation of antiquity whose remains place us so much
at home with the inhabitants, as Egypt. Although the remains
are intensely national,—although, that is, they have a strong
character of their own, and are not like any other remains,—yet
that very intenseness of character makes haste to impress itself
upon the mind; and then we seem to know all about them.
This is partly because some of the secrets disclosed by the
excavations and discoveries of travellers show us that their
domestic ways were very much like our own,—more so than
those of Roman or Greek,—but also, it is greatly because we
cannot ramble long among the remains of ancient Egypt,
without finding traces of old friends, namely, the Jews; with
whom, in connection with Egypt, our Bibles have made us
familiar from our earliest days. Then, the religion, and the
emblems of the religion, and the temples, and the country, and



18 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cnap, IT,

the products of the country, seem to have a deep prevailing
unity about them. Ah, Bella and Bob do not quite see what I
mean by that! Well, I mean they seem all of a piece.

‘“‘ I turned round to enter the temple behind me, and all this
struck me very forcibly. First of all, I noticed that the three
principal colours used in painting the walls, the friezes, and the
columns, and the figures, were the three colours which most
strongly strike the eye in the Egyptian landscape—blue, the
colour of the sky, of the sacred river, and of the sacred flower ;
dark red, the colour of the earth ; and yellow, the colour of the
sand. Then, upon examining the paintings, I saw that the god
Osiris was ever painted blue, and that some pillars or emblems
of apparently a sacred character had blue rims round them ;
while mortals, even royal mortals, were painted of the red
earth colour. In the pillars I found the palm, the lotus, the
' papyrus, were the models. Osiris was the Sun or the beneficent
river. Typhon was the crocodile. Smaller gods were the
reptiles of the land. Everything was not only in Egypt,
but everything was Egyptian. Grecian architecture, Grecian
sculpture, the emblems of Greek faith, do not seem so exclu-
sively Grecian. A Doric colonnade would scarcely seem out of
place anywhere, and the Apollo, though he is Greek in the nose
and the eyes, is, after all, only a model man—good here, good
there, good everywhere. But I cannot conceive an Egyptian
colonnade harmonising with an English landscape, nor does a
sphinx look well flanking a modern doorway. How strongly
this struck me, as I walked up an avenue of lions into the
Temple!

“‘ Egyptian architecture is almost rudely simple, very massive
and solid, and, in keeping with all this, is huge, gigantic, over-
powering, in its proportions. Yet some of the columns before





Cuap, IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 19

me, which belonged to the Ptolemaic period of Egyptian his-
tory, were not without lightness and grace, and they were highly
ornamented. ‘The capitals of the columns were either like the
palm or the lotus ; and some of them showed the papyrus in dif-
ferent stages of its growth, from the bud to the flower in bloom.
All over the walls on the outside were representations, in co-
loured bas-reliefs, of a king making offerings to the gods, who,
in return, made grants of long life and stability of empire to
the worshippers. Above the columns, there was an inscription
which I was enabled to translate, though it was in hierogly-
phics; and it seemed to me that here was the old trick of
erasing one monarch’s name and substituting another. For
what do you think the inscription said? It said that, ‘ in the
seventeenth year of the reign of Victoria, the Ruler of the
Waves, this Temple (or Palace, I will not be sure which,
mind) was erected, and furnished with a thousand statues, a
thousand plants, &c., like as a book, for the use of the men of
all countries.’ It was very strange to meet the name of our
own Queen on an Egyptian Temple, and what was stranger
still, I heard, at this very moment, a band playing ‘ Rule, Bri-
tannia!’ All over this part of the Temple I found the names
of our Queen and Prince Albert, and of King Ptolemy, on the
lintels and on the sides. Now, the conjunction of Victoria ard
Ptolemy was, you will all confess, very peculiar indeed, and
perhaps you will not know what to make of it, though, after I
have told you I made the journey to Egypt in the very boots I
have on, you will have no right to be surprised at anything.

* Well! I went on and on in this Temple, looking about me ;
and the more I saw, the more I was sure I was in Egypt, and
the less I was able to make the thing out clearly to my own satis-
faction; for the Temple was very small, and yet it seemed a

fe



20 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Onar, IT,

mixture of every period and style and event in Egyptian history.
I admired the beautiful blue roof between the sunken pillars of
the quadrangle portico, all dotted and sprinkled with golden
stars. J saw a scene in which the sacking of a town was repre-
sented, with scaling ladders, bridges, ditches, towers, and all
complete, just as usual. I saw Sesostris the Great——”

“Ts that the Sesostris of whom the story is told about the
captive king and the chariot-wheel?” asked Hetty.

“O, I know that story,” cried Bob, anxious to contribute
something to the general store. “ Sesostris had his chariot
drawn by six kings. One of them always kept his eye fixed on
the revolutions of the chariot-wheel. Sesostris asked him what
he meant by that? ‘ Sire, replied the captive king, ¢ I cannot
look upon that wheel without being reminded of the changes of
human fortune. What was lately uppermost is soon debased—
the round which was, one moment, at the top, is, the next mo-
ment, at the bottom. So it is with subjects and kings in the
hands of the Immortal Gods!’ Sesostris was so touched with
this answer, that he gave the king his liberty. At least, so the
story goes.” .

“ And we will believe it, my Bobby,” answered Fred. “It is
always well, if we can, to believe anything kind and generous,
either of the present or the past. Let us always give the living,
and the dead too, the benefit of a doubt! I was saying that I
saw Sesostris the Great trampling on his enemies, stabbing an
Arab soldier in the ribs, and looking more comfortable over it
than I should be, if I had to stick a great thing like that into
a man’s side. I saw another scene, in which this same Sesostris
is clutching half-a-dozen poor fellows by the hair of their miser-
able heads, and shaking a dagger over them in a very savage
way, while twelve ambassadors, lower down, are begging hard



Cuap, IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. a1

for mercy, with ropes round their necks. I saw eight colossal
figures of Rameses the Great, supporting a side wall, and queer
fishes they looked, Bobby boy, with their red helmets and whips,
or flails (whieh I don’t know—nobody knows), in their hands,
which are crossed upon their chests. And don’t they look stupid,
‘ sweetly stupid,’ as Amy calls it——”

“ Yes, sweetly stupid; I mean when a man looks as if he
had sucked himself to sleep with a sugar-plum in his mouth.
Did these colossal kings look like that, Fred ?”

“ Exactly, Amy, you could not have hit it better. Every-
where almost, along cornices, and over doorways, I saw winged
suns painted red, with asps sticking out at the side.”

“ What did that mean?” inquired Bella.

“T think it meant Providence, though it is not very clear how
or why. But I made out that a zigzag line. ie

“ Crinkum-crankum ?” says Bob.
© Crinkum-crankum. A zigzag line means river-water, a
scroll like a wave means the sea, and a lozenge means a maze.
But what do you think of Egyptian perspective? It beats the
Roman hollow! They had no idea of foreground, and back~
eround, and vanishing points, and so on; so they made the
principal object, a king for instance, very large. To express
nearness, they put a figure on an object above; distance, below.
If one of the things painted came in the way of another, they
showed the more important of the two, without regard to the
reason and fact of the case. For instance, if a sword happened
to lie across a king’s nose, they would paint the nose and leave
out the sword.

“By and by I found myself in a tomb, which looked to me
very like one I had seen at Benee Hassan before; and how it
got there Gracious knew. What business had a tomb in a





22 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. II.

temple? Now I knew perfectly well that this tomb was cut
out of the solid rock about the year 1660 B.c., and that its fluted
columns furnished the model for Doric architecture ig

“‘ Which is Doric?” inquired Bob.

“The entrance of Euston-square station is Doric; and there
is a chapel portico in Stamford-street, Blackfriars-road, which
is one of the finest specimens of Doric architecture in England :
it was built by Rennie, and you ought all to see it, because it is
so fine. Well, what did a tomb do in a temple? 1 could not
tell, but there was one comfort about it. The last time I had
seen this tomb I knew that thieves used to sleep:in it of nights,
but they were all turned out now! When I came out of this
tomb, there was another surprise for me—I saw a colonnade from
Phile, and the Antinous of the ancient Egyptians, and a por-"
trait of Alexander the Great in basso-relievo, with his name
underneath written in Greek. And how do you suppose we
know the Egyptians did this bas-relief? Why, by the wrong
spelling of the name! What a trifling mistake will sometimes
decide a question of authorship! There is a beautiful poem on
blindness which claims to have been written by Milton; but the
use of the word recognise, which was not current in Milton’s
time, settles its modernness. But, above and beyond all other
things, I saw—to my great surprise, as I was not near Alex-
andria—the Rosetta stone. That was a stone indeed! As it
was in a corner here, it might be called a corner-stone ; but
I knew that to our countryman Dr. Young, and the great
Frenchman Champollion, it had been a hey-stone to unlock the
closed doors of the Egyptian hieroglyphics ; because, beside the
inscription which it bears in the popular and the sacred Egyptian
of the time, it has a repetition of it in Greek, which furnished
the clue that had been so eagerly sought for. The Rosetta





Cuap. IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 23

stone belongs to the Greco-Egyptian period, and its inscription ~
is an address from the priests to the then Greek king of Egypt,
Ptolemy the Fifth, praising him, of course, and recording the
fact that directions had been issued to set up the statue of the
king in"every temple, along with a copy of the address; so that
Ptolemy the Fifth was pretty well bespattered with praise.

“To tell you the truth, I began to feel a little bewildered in
this building with things I did not expect to find there. How
could the Temple of Aboo Simbel, which I knew was cut ina
rock in Nubia, be here? Or half the Temple of Karnak? But
here they were, beyond question. Fancying I must be in a
dream, I ran out into the open air to collect my wits. I found
it was getting very hot—stiflingly hot. I then recollected that
in the spring of the year the hot winds come up from the desert
and make. the country almost uninhabitable to Europeans.
Looking upwards, I perceived the sky was getting black, the
sun had turned of a misty sort of purple colour, the air was
not fit to breathe for clouds of sand, all the people began to
hurry indoors, and the very water looked as if it had been
boiled and were not yet cool. Yes, the Simoom was coming,
bringing with it the dust of the desert, which the people say is
so fine and so cunning that it will get inside an egg, through
the shell! If that were true, it would soon get inside my skin,
and I thought I had better leave Egypt as fast as I could. So,
without troubling the camels, though there were plenty about,
or the steamboats at Alexandria, I came home in my own
fashion, and here I am, safe and sound, to tell you the story of
my travels. I think you will agree with me that the funniest
part of all was, how I came to see so many things all-in one
spot, and none of the Egyptians caught sight of me. Do any
of you know ?”



24 THH SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Citar. IT,

“T do!” said Hetty.

“JT do!” said Amy.

“Then don’t tell at present,” answered Sindbad.

“T should like to go, too, and see it all,” said little Hind-
bad, not without some misty idea of the secret. ¥

“ Ah!” cried Sindbad, “you, Hindbad, would no¢ see it all,
if you were to go exactly where I did, and stand in the same
place. Come again to-morrow, and I will tell you all about my
next journey.”

‘Please, sir,—I mean, please Sindbad the Great,—may a
little girl ask a few questions?” said Amy, with a curtsy.

“Certainly,” replied Fred, assuming the air of a sage.
“Speak on, and do not fear!” How kind of him !

“You observed,” says Amy, “that the Sphinx was your par-
ticular friend, and that if we were impertinent it was your
intention to write to her complaining of our conduct. - Now, I
have always understood that, when Cidipus solved her enigma,
the Sphinx in a rage committed suicide, for good and all.
Now, if you write to her, do your letters go through the Dead
Letter-box ? and how does she read them ?”

‘“‘ Your question, Miss Amy, is a very proper one,” said
Fred, stroking his chin, and making a general observation,
to gain time, after the most approved fashion of orators who do
not see their way. “But I think,” said he, “TI can solve your
doubts by telling you

Tue SuppRESsED History oF MEMNON AND THE SPHINX,

“Tt is not generally known that there was an intimacy of
the most affectionate kind between Memnon and the Sphinx.
Both of them, the Sphinx in particular, have been celebrated



Guar. IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 25

for an immovable passivity of look which has led common
observers to imagine they had no hearts. But they had: there
are romances in stones as well as sermons in stones; and the
friendship of this ancient pair was very romantic indeed. It
is well known that, as soon as the slant beam of the morning
Sun smote the forehead of Memnon, he found a tongue, and
made earth and sky vocal with his hymn of praise and gratula-
tion. In the absence of the light-god the grand old fellow kept
a mournful silence. But he yearned for sympathy. It was not
enough that he could make sweet melody to the Sun ; he wanted
it echoed back in those soft, unstartling tones which so delight
the heart which longs for affectionate converse: it is so with
us all—when praise falls dead and our hearts sink inwards, we
sometimes want ourselves rendered back to us in gracefuller
lines, in tenderer lights, in softer touches of ‘linked’ melody.
So Memnon, in the sunless midnight hours, kept wakeful silence,
eating out his sublime old heart for sickness and sadness. And
the deep, deep, blue sky looked calmly on, and did not pene-
trate his thought; and the cold stars, as large to the eye in
that pure atmosphere as the largest jewel you ever saw, were
too much occupied with their own music to concern themselves
with the sorrows of anything terrestrial. But the Moon, with
her clear vestal eye and tender woman’s heart, at last divined
the grief of Memnon; and when next she met the Sun on the
green rim of the tumbling sea, said, ‘O Sun, Memnon is un-
happy! ‘Have I not taught him to sing when I look upon
him? what more doth he ask? replied the Sun, casting his
golden eye full upon the timid Moon with a glance of scrutiny.
Then she answered, ‘Seek, O Sun, of thine own heart what
would be the prayer of Memnon could he speak as well as
sing. How didst thou not yearn for a friend, for another
C



26 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IT,

self, till I, thy Moon, was sent up the slope of the skies to give
thee back a part of thy light! Memnon wants a double, a
friend, to yield him his music again. All life seeks—doth it
not ?—to repeat itself. Let thy own soul answer, O beautiful
day-god, quickener of all things, light of the world, as thou
art!’ Then said the Sun, ‘My Moon, what wouldst thou?
Who shall be friend to this Memnon, and repeat his music to
him, as thou my light unto me; that so his countenance may
shine when I am far off, and his heart be glad in the darkness ?’
Now, the Moon had often looked upon the Sphinx with wonder
at her many cruelties, and had divined very low down in her
heart a little seed of goodness which might flower into com-
passion if it could be reached and lured into the warmth of day.
And the Moon said, ‘Grant me, O great Osiris (for so was
the Sun named by the Immortals), that I may have what power
I will over the cruel Sphinx, for Memnon’s sake.’ And the
Sun answered and said, ‘ My Isis, be it unto thee even as
thou hast spoken.’ Then the Moon was very glad, and went
upon her way among the stars with a more shining face, for
very joy.

“Now the Sphinx, pitilessly devouring, day by day, those
who came to answer her enigma and could not, had yet felt
some uneasy gropings of love and pity at the bottom of her
hard, blind heart, when the strain of Memnon had smitten her
ears in the fresh, sweet morning; and she had said, in her
inmost soul, ‘O that I might breathe out my life in music too
—perhaps I should not be so cruel, and I am sure I should be
a happier Sphinx! And this the cunning Moon knew by her
woman’s instinct. And so, one warm, slumberous night, when
she was riding high in the purple mid-heaven, upon a silver-
white cloud, she looked down upon Memnon, and saw that his



Cuap, IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 27

soul was straying in the borderland of Sleep, led by a Dream,
who held him by the hand and seemed to be trying to repeat
to him his morning lay ; upon the Sphinx, and beheld her broad
awake, with her mysterious wide-open eyes questioning time
and space for something which came not. And the Moon
paused for a moment as she passed over, and prayed, ‘ Now,
now, Osiris, grant my will!’ And, at the same moment, she
shed a flood of her soft luminous breath full on the forehead of
the Sphinx, saying ‘Sine!’ and so urged her white chariot
down the steep of the sky.

“Then the long pent-up yearnings in the breast of the
Sphinx found speech in music, and the far-stretching desert
heard, and the rippling Nile took up the burthen, till the
lotus-flower trembled on the bank. And Memnon dropped the
hand of his dream-guide, and lifted up his soul from the
shadowy valley of Sleep, and listened in a warm rapture of joy
to his own morning-song to Osiris restored unto him in tenderest
echoes ; and he knew it was the voice of the Sphinx and was
glad. But after awhile he slumbered sweetly, and when he
said to the next sunrise ‘Lo, I am here!’ Egypt wondered
at the voice of Memnon, and asked from what deeper wellspring
of melody this song,—the same yet not the same, the ancient
tune with a golden thread of conscious life inwoven,—had arisen.
Only the listening Sphinx wondered not, and Memnon knew
that she would hear. And every night, when the moon kissed
her forehead, she sang back to him his song of the morning,
and he loved her, and there was a better life for them both.
But still the Sphinx was cruel, only she hated herself, and, save
for thoughts of Memnon, wished that she might die, and so be
cruel.no more for ever.

** Now it befell that one night the moon was eclipsed, and the

. c2



28 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cua. IT.

waiting Sphinx did not feel the luminous touch on her forehead
at the hour of the rising of Isis upon the sky, and Memnon
listened in vain for the beloved echo, And when the shadow
had passed away from the face of Isis, and she breathed upon
the brow of the Sphinx, no voice answered ; for the Sphinx had
said within herself, ‘I am forgotten and despised; I shall
never sing again to Memnon; I will gather to me again the
darkness that once enfolded my heart, and go my way on the
morrow whither even Isis shall not find me with her brightness
should she seek me out. But I must hear once again the voice
of Memnon, for it is sweet, and then I will slay myself, because
life is sadder than I can bear!’ Now the Sphinx did not
know, until this night, the secret of her own thought, how she
loved the voice of Memnon, and what a contention in her bosom
was born of her love; and, once failing to find her nightly
tongue for his ear, she had not the patience now to wait until her
love should have had time to grow, and clear her nature of all
its darkness and cruelty, but, mistrusting Isis, resolved to die
and away for ever. Only the knowledge how dear was her
even-song to Memnon might have changed her purpose; but
that she did not wholly know; being still partially blind and
wicked of heart.

“ And when the morning came, and Osiris touched the lips of
Memnon with the glory which should part them in music,
Egypt stood mazed and doubting, for Memnon sang not. To
have sung on for ever in uncompanioned solitude was possible
if so Osiris had willed; but not even Osiris was stronger than
Love; and now the interrupted new life turned to death and
silence; and only one who stood very nigh heard a low com-
plaining from the lips, as if it were the last moan of one dying
in pain—and Memnen sang to the sunrise no more,



Cuap, II. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 29

“Then the Sphinx was more than ever resolute to die, when
she did not hear the voice she had learned to love ; and so, when
(idipus passed by and solved her enigma, she slew herself—
and she sang to the moonrise never again.

“ But neither Memnon nor the Sphinx knew that in loving they
had taken up the breath of an immortal life, and could not pass
into nothingness. But it was so. And Osiris took Memnon,
and Isis took the Sphinx, and they bore them down the slope
of the sky, and deep, deep, deep into the sea, beyond the
mountains which frown upon the utmost Mediterranean, and
deeper, deeper still; until they reposed in the land of the
submerged Atlantis, which with all its nobleness of life and
glory was sucked down by the cruel ocean thousands of years
before, and preserved in the .lowest sanctuary of silence by the
Eldest Gods, who had loved the Atlanteans. There in halls
fathoms below the furrow of the keel on the upper sea, and still
as death in their deserted beauty,—there, Memnon and the
Sphinx encountered now, to learn that friendship had bestowed
on both a life which could not die, and could only be lived in
one current for ever and ever. And there they remain to this
day, practising the old songs, except when they sing a duetto,
or employ themselves for the good of mankind.”

“or the good of mankind ! In what possible way ?” inquired
Hetty.

“Thus, dear,” replied Fred. “The Sphinx, deeply regretting
her former carnivorous propensities, which, indeed, she is not
yet quite able to shake off, determined in her Atlantean retire-
ment with her friend Memnon to turn her immortal leisure to
philanthropic account; and did so by rearing the oceanic
plateau which underlies the Atlantic from Ireland to New-
foundland, “intending by degrees to re-elevate the Atlantean

c 3





80 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD., Cuape. II,

continent, peninsula, or island. When, however, the soundings
were being taken for the Transatlantic telegraph, she changed
her views, and informed me she intended to further the telegraph
by every means in her power. But do not imagine she is quite
reclaimed from her cruelty: it takes a long time for a Sphinx
to get soft, even under water. Once a year she reappears to
men in the shape of the Sea Serpent, and goes prowling about
the upper deep in search of prey, which she secures by wrecking
some ship, if all other means fail her; and as she can assume
that form whenever she pleases, she might be a formidable
enemy of any noisy little girl of whom I might complain to her
by means of ——”

“ By means of what, Mr. Fred?” says Amy.

“I shall explain no further,” answered Fred, “until the
close of my narration to Hindbad. So, as I said before, come
again to-morrow, and hear, if you choose, the history of my
next journey in Wonderland. For to-day, this meeting is
adjourned.”

So Bella and Bob walked away wondering, and Amy and
Hetty discussing Sindbad’s elaborate defiance of Gliddon and
Gardner Wilkinson in this truly absurd Sphinx story, which he
had so quaintly linked with sea-serpents and electricity.



Cuar. III, SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. bl

CHAPTER III.

SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY.

“J THINK,” began Sindbad, addressing the same audience as
before, on this, the second, occasion, “I think the adventures I
have to relate to you this time are not a whit less wonderful
than those I told you of yesterday, and I am sure they will
convince Hindbad that I have had to go through a good deal
in my little time. My journey to Egypt, instead of inspiring
me with any desire to stay at home and rest, had quite a con-
trary effect. Neither crocodiles, nor inundations, nor Simooms,
nor Samiels, nor fatigues of any kind, had abated my courage,
and my thirst for information. As GREECE came next in his-
torical sequence, as it was the nation which took up the thread
of human progress from Egypt, the hand, as it were, to which
Egypt passed the lighted torch, I felt a desire to make my next
journey a journey to Greece. One morning, I put in my pocket
again the talisman for which papa had paid, but I pursued a
course different in other respects from that which I had adopted
in making my Egyptian trip, and proceeded to the Bridge of
London, commonly called London-Bridge. When there, my
attention was attracted to a curious creature with a long body,
which was making strange snorting, whistling noises, and dis-
playing various symptoms of restlessness, besides blowing its
breath out of its mouth and nostrils in great steamy clouds.
It seemed to have an enormous number of fins of an oblong
shape somewhat resembling wooden doors, which were flapping
backwards ang forwards, and which opened to cavities in the



32 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, III.

creature’s interior. As I observed several of the cavities
filled with human beings, I concluded that there was no danger
to be apprehended from this strange, long, noisy creature’s
puffing and snorting, and I myself entered one of the cavities.
I found it very comfortable. The animal’s ribs were well
wadded and padded, and I felt quite easy in his interior apart-
ments. I could not help reflecting that this was a very com-
fortable sort of roc, much pleasanter than the one which carried
Sindbad the sailor about ; and my good opinion of the animal
was confirmed, when, after half-an-hour or so, he, she, or it—
for I could not determine its sex—made a pause, and dislodged
his fellow-travellers at the foot of a double staircase, ascending
which, and reproducing papa’s magic talisman, I speedily found
myself at the goal of my wishes—in fact, in Greece.

“ It was midnight ——”

“* Midnight, Fred? Would pa let you be out?” cries
Bella.

“ Midnight in Greece, Bella, dear—dark midnight. Nothing
could be sweeter or softer than the atmosphere which I now
breathed, and I could well understand how the people who were
born in it, and breathed it always, should find life itself an enjoy-
ment, should fling their happy limbs naturally into postures the
most graceful and alluring for the sculptor, should invent the
loveliest architecture the world has seen, and turn the commonest
events of every-day life into occasions of enjoyment. I was on the
sea-shore. ‘The waves were lap-lap-lapping softly against the
beach, oh! sosoftly. There was a little moonlight, and the sky
overhead was of the deepest, intensest blue. On a distant hill,
‘heaven-kissing,’ as Shakspeare says, I saw Mercury step down ;
in a grove, a little inland, I caught a glimpse of Diana creeping
softly up to Endymion, and tapping him on the curls; and I



r SSS SSeS

Ne
Lj
a
qo
5
Hi
t
Ly
fe
LI
6



THE GRECIAN COURT.—P, 32.





Cuar. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY, 33

fancied—perhaps I was excited and mistaken—that Socrates or
his ghost passed lightly by me with a drained, inverted cup of
hemlock-juice in his hands, from which a few lingering green drops
fell upon the ground and turned to laurels. All over the shore
were blazing night-fires, round which were groups of Albanians,
who, having done their evening feast, were now drinking the
red wine gaily and fast, talking, laughing, singing, and making
a very pretty romantic picture indeed. Then they all got up
together, and, with long black hair that streamed down to
their waists, kirtles reaching to their knees, and eyes and faces
gleaming in the red fire-light, they sang together a song of
which here are a few verses :—

I.

¢Tambourgi, Tambourgi! thy ’larum afar
Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war ;
All the sons of the mountain arise at the note,
Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote!

II.

£Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote,
In his snowy camese and his shaggy capote ?
To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock,
And descends to the plain, like the stream from the rock.

II.

© Macedonia sends forth her invincible race ;
For a time they abandon the cave and the chase;
But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before
The sabre is sheath’d and the battle is o’er.

IV.

s Théff the pirates of Parga, that dwell by the waves,
And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves,
Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar,
And track to his covert the captive on shore,



34 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IIT.

Vv.

‘ Selictar! unsheath then our chief’s scimitar—
Tambourgi! thy ’larum gives promise of war—
Ye mountains, that see us descend to the shore,
Shall view us as victors, or view us no more!’ *

”



“ Ah!” exclaimed Hetty, “ I know something

“ Then, keep it to yourself, Miss,” said Fred, hastily inter-
rupting her; “ and let me go on quietly. We don’t want to
know what you know. You came here all of you to hear what
I know, and I'll trouble you not to interfere.”

Of course Fred was only joking. He was not really angry
when he said all this, but he did not want to have his travels
interrupted and his story spoiled for him. So he went on.

“This, then, I said to myself, is Greece; and, closing my
eyes, as I leaned against a crag, I repeated to myself Byron’s
lines—

‘ Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild ;
Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields ;
Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled,

And still his honeyed wealth Hymettus yields ;
There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,
The free-born wanderer of thy mountain air;
Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,

Still in his beam Mendeli’s marbles glare :
Art, Glory, Freedom, fail, but Nature still is fair.

‘ Where’er we tread, ’tis haunted, holy ground;
No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould;
But one vast realm of wonder spreads around,
And all the Muse’s tales seem truly told,
Till the sense aches with gazing to behold
The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon:
Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold,
Defies the power which crushed thy temples gone ;—
Age shakes Athena’s tower, but spares gray Marathon.



Cuap, III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 85

* The sun, the soil, but not the slave, the same;
Unchanged in all except its foreign lord—
Preserves alike its bounds and boundless fame,

. The battlefield where Persia’s victim horde
First bowed beneath the brunt of Hellas’ sword,
As on the morn to distant Glory dear,

When Marathon became a magic word,
Which uttered, to the hearer’s eye appear
The camp, the host, the fight, the conquerov’s career ;

‘ The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow ;

The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear ;
Mountains above—Earth’s, Ocean’s, plain below,
Death in the front, Destruction in the rear !—
Such was the scene—what now remaineth here ?
What sacred trophy marks the hallowed ground,
Recording Freedom’s smile and Asia’s tear >—
The rifled urn, the violated mound,

The dust thy courser’s hoof, rude stranger! spurns around,’ ”

As Fred recited very well, Hetty, and Amy, and Bella, and
Bob, all enjoyed these fine lines of Byron exceedingly. Tred
proceeded :—

_ Curiously enough, when I opened my eyes after repeating
these verses to myself,—it must really have been owing to some
power more magical even than that of papa’s talisman f

‘I know what the power was!” said Amy, in a whisper, to
herself, and with a pleased intelligent smile. Fred did not
pause, except to put his finger on his lip, with a smile that
replied to hers.

“When I opened my eyes, by some magical power or other,
I found myself in a street in ancient Athens. It was quite
dark, and, I am sorry to say, to the discredit of the Greeks, the
street was very dirty. There were no lamps at all, and no
well-construtted gutters to drain the streets, into which all the





36 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuaap. IIT.

refuse of the kitchens seemed to have been thrown. Still, as the
Greeks were not such gross feeders as we are, there was nothing
as offensive as what you might find in a low neighbourhood
in our own highly-civilised London. I met one or two Athenians
who were out on some late errand, but, as they did not notice
me at all, I felt convinced that the same power, whatever it
was, which had landed me so suddenly in ancient Athens, had
made me invisible to the people. This was comfortable, for I
could thus go about and see everybody and everything, without
being quizzed in my turn. I found a house quite open to the
street, and determined to enter and explore it, with a view of
finding a sleeping apartment of some kind, where I might pass
the night. The front of the house was ornamented with stucco,
but I noticed that the owner had taken care to avoid any such
ornaments as were customary in the temples of the gods, which
would have been considered irreligious. The doorway was
rather handsome ; the root was flat; there was only one story.
Some of the houses in Athens, however, had two stories.
Going noiselessly about, I observed that each set of rooms was
built in the shape of a square, with an open paved court in the
middle, and that in one or two cases there was a fountain in the
centre. Along the sides of every court there were colonnades to
walk under, and from these colonnades you saw the entrances
into the different rooms. From the street-door you went into
a large hall, and from that you stepped into the square or
court, around which were the apartments of the men ; for the
most important division of a house in Greece was into the men’s
division and the women’s division. In this house, there being
only one story, the women’s court or quadrangle was at the
back, the men’s in front. In the men’s quadrangle I saw the
dining-room, drawing-room, and other rooms, where the gentle-



Cuap. IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY, 37

men met their friends and transacted their business. In the
women’s quadrangle were what we should call the living-rooms,
where the family dwelt every day, besides kitchens, store-
rooms, bedrooms, and halls or shops for spinning and weaving,
in which the lady of the house and her maids were accustomed
to busy themselves when not otherwise employed. I noticed
that the fireplaces were open, and that the household gods were
in a niche by the side of the hearth. On one side of the
chimney was hung up the armour of the master of the house.

“I was struck with the essential similarity, as to all the
minor appliances of life, between the articles of comfort and
convenience in use at Athens and those in use in modern times
in our own houses. I remembered, in the Book of Kings, the
house built upon the wall for the man of God, and the table,
and the stool, and the candlestick put there for him by the
Shunammite woman; and I thought how natural and homelike
everything seemed in Greece. At meal-times I perceived the
people sat upon sofas and couches, or rather, reclined upon
them. In an unoccupied room, near the garden, which lay
behind the women’s quadrangle, I found an empty bed, on
which was a wool mattress. Here I resolved to pass the night,
and, drawing over me a coverlet of the skin of some Asiatic
animal, I lay down, and soon fell asleep.

“Tn the course of the night I believe I dreamt—a good long
dream too, and I will tell it you. I was, or else I fancied I
was, in a building, which so far resembled the Temple I had
seen in Egypt that it was an incongruous collection of all
sorts of memorials of ancient Greece, both in architecture and
sculpture, without regard to continuity of date or of historical
association. gi

‘J saw before me a Temple of the later period of that

D



38 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. ITI.

Doric order, which, derived from Egypt, preceded all the other
Grecian orders in the line of architectural development. It
seemed to me to be a portion of the Temple of Jupiter at
Nemea, erected about four hundred years before Christ was
born in Bethlehem of Judea. This date was not too late for
the highest qualities of Grecian art, and certainly the columns
now before me, surmounted by a frieze on which were inscribed
the names of the principal Grecian cities and colonies, con-
trasted very favourably, in point of lightness and beauty, with
anything I had seen in Egypt (even with the pillars at Beni
Hassan). Nothing could well be more graceful, and yet they
were very strong, and looked equal to their work; for you
must always note that a good artist harmonises his labour ; he
does not sacrifice use to ornament, or vice versa, but combines
the two in a perfect and beautiful whole. Indeed, what is
characteristic in all architecture will be found connected with
its uses, climate and associations considered. Thus, the over-
lapping cornice of Egyptian and Oriental architecture was the
natural growth of climates where a hot, vertical sun made shelter
and shade very necessary features ; and the sloping gable roof
of the Goth was eminently adapted to stave off the snow and
rain,

“Entering the Temple of Jupiter at Nemea, I was still more
strongly impressed. with the mixed character of the place where
I stood, when I found myself in a public agora or market-place.
All around me were the names of the best, the wisest, the most
glorious men of Greece, written in the form of the Greck letter
which was current at the time when they lived. This list
extended from the earliest ages to the latest, beginning with
blind old Homer, and ending with Anthemius who ’ built
St. Sophia es







Omar. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 39

“ At Constantinople!” cries Bob, clapping his hands.

“ At Constantinople—you are right. I felt a little puzzled
with the blue, red, and yellow colouring all round me, for
I was not prepared to expect it in Greece; but as so many
things seemed all topsy-turvy, it was not worth my while to
spend too much thought about one in particular. Indeed my
surprise was not to end here. ‘The whole world of Grecian art
seemed represented here, within the compass of a few feet. All
at once I was thrilled with the Laocoon, pleased with the
Farnese Juno, and solemnised by the Genius of Death. There
was the Discobolus from which I had been taught to draw, and
which I knew belonged to the Vatican. There was the Vatican
Ariadne. There was the Sleeping Faun. There was the
beautiful Venus of Milo. Well, I didn’t know what to make of
it. I stepped into a side court, answering, in the real Agora, to
the Stoa,- and what should I catch a glimpse of, but the very
Temple in Egypt which I had seen a little time before!
Curious enough. But it gave me a chance of comparing the
dummyish-looking colossi and clumsy three-cornered seeming
paintings of the Egyptians with the beautiful columns and
cornices of the Greek ; and I fell into a muse, with which I will
not now trouble you, about the enormous differences in the
genius of different nations. I will only say that it seemed to
me as if the excessive influence of the priests had had a great
deal to do with debasing Egyptian art. Strictly speaking, there
was never a priestly order or caste among the ancient Greeks,
though there were men devoted to the service of the temples.
I wish you to notice this, because it is a peculiarity of our own
religion that Chritians are all ‘ priests unto God.’

“ Passing into a covered atrium, I noticed the broad, handsome
ante (or square pillars), and the panelled ceiling, which latter

D2



40 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. IIT.

seemed to me to have come from the Temple of Apollo at
Basse. Looking out at the back, I saw what seemed to me
the Parthenon itself under a diminishing glass—but, getting
closer, I found it was only a model of the western front. Then,
all above it, and for a distance on both sides of it, was—
wonderful to relate!—the frieze of the building, in a separate
state, only coloured in the same questionable way. Close by me
were the Niobe and the Medicean Venus from Florence, and
the immortal Psyche from Naples. Much more there was here,
more than I can tell you now; but I was not surprised at the
number of beautiful works of art before me, because I knew that
in one of his campaigns the King of Macedonia destroyed
2000 statues, and yet that, when Rome had done her work of
pillaging and carrying away, the city was said to contain more
statues than inhabitants!”

“*T don’t believe it,” cried Hetty, tossing her curls in the air.

“Never mind, Miss Hetty—the mere fact that such a thing
was said shows how prolific Greek art was. Even exaggera-
tions mean something, dear girl. There is never smoke but
there is fire, don’t you know? However, what really surprised
me was the heterogeneous mixture of architecture and sculpture
in the place where I was. I had a sort of vague consciousness,
as you know we often have in dreams, of the fact that I had
gone to bed and to sleep in a house in Athens——”

“Pretty fact!” said Amy, in a sly whisper to Hetty.

“Leave him alone,” replied Hetty; “he’ll make it all out
somehow—he ’s so clever.”

“Gone to bed in a house at Athens; and how had I got
here? and how had all these things got hese? While I was
wondering and wondering, with my eyes fixed on the Parthenon
frieze, a curious change came over one of the horses and its



Cuap. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 41

rider. ‘The horse seemed to swell and swell to life-size, to
dilate its nostrils, and shake its stony mane, and lift its proud
prancing feet, and neigh in the blithe air, and long to step out.
It was not like one of our horses. It had a thick neck and short
legs. It was just like a colt, and not like an Arab racer in
figure. But the stone rider underwent a change as well as the
stone horse. It appeared to me, now, to be Apollo himself,
much as in the Belvedere statue; only with his bow swung over
his shoulder, a cloud of glory round his face and forehead, and
a less scornful smile on his face. He was, certainly, a very
beautiful fellow, and I don’t mind telling you I wished I might
be only half as handsome as this god. In a few instants he
opened his divine lips, and spoke in, oh! such a celestial voice,
but, to my surprise, in broad mother-tongue English.

“¢Wo! wo! Dobbin! wo!’ cried the god, reining in his
horse ; ‘don’t you perceive, Dobbin, I want to speak to this
gentleman?’ After this polite expostulation, accompanied by a
little divine patting on the back, Dobbin did as he was bid, and
wo'd. I began to tremble a little, for the great Mr. Apollo,
who, I knew, served the Python out so savagely, and played the
harp like Chatterton or like Amy, seemed as if he were coming
down from the Parthenon frieze to speak to me! Could I have
got into his bad books by being in this place? Was this his
private lumber-room or studio? Were these objects which I
had seen the real things, or models of the real things, or only
original patterns which Apollo had made, as inspirer and patron
of Greek art? I had no time to decide, for the good-looking
god came up to me, and touching his golden forelock, not like a
clown, but like a god, and shaking down the ambrosial odour
from his sweet white brow as he did so, said, in a very
gentlemanly tone of voice—



42 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, ITI.

“ ¢Good morning, Mr. Bull.’

“ ¢Good morning, sir,’ said I, shaking in my shoes—‘T hope
I’m not intruding into your—your—your—studio ?’

“ ¢Studio—studio? O dear, no! This is only one of my
lumber-rooms, not my studio. Glad to see you here, Mr. Bull.
What’s your pleasure? What do you want?’

“ ¢ Information about Greece, if you please, sir,’ said I, re-
assured. by his kind, cosy, comfortable manners.

“¢Ah, you’ve come to the right shop, Mr. Bull,’ said
Apollo, with a twinkle in his deep-blue eye. ‘ Of course, I
know all about it, being connected with the concern. What
might you want to know in particular ?’

“ ¢ Well, I replied, ‘a doubt struck me, I must confess,
about the colouring of the friezes here, and especially of the
frieze of the Parthenon itself over there.’

“To be sure—I dare say—quite right, Mr. Bull. I admire
your sagacity. We did colour our public buildings and statues
in the olden days, but not like that. It is Mr. Owen Jones's
doing. He is a very clever fellow—very—and so I allow him
to take liberties in this little lumber-room of mine. But he has,
I may tell you in confidence, overshot his mark in his manner
of applying colour to the productions of Greek Art. However,
we will not say too much about it. The attempt was praise-
worthy, and you mortals get at truth by little and little,
always.’

“ T now ventured to make an observation myself. ‘ Rome,’
said I, ‘was not built in a day.’ It was an unlucky slip of the
tongue. The brow of the god lowered a little, and I saw an
angry twitch at the angles of his mouth. ‘Mr. Bull,’ he began
again, ‘ Athens was my studio, and those confounded Romans,
hardheaded and ironhanded, played Meg’s diversion with Art.



Cuar. ITI. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 43

I wish—’ But here Apollo drew his hand across his face, and,
dropping a tear, dropped the subject also.

“* Well, well!’ he began again—‘ we were talking of the
slowness of you mortals to learn. Look at the columns of the
Parthenon there ; do you see anything particular ?’

“«T see great lightness and beauty, exquisite grace, and yet
no lack of strength in the appearance of the columns.’

“¢ Ah, yes! but you observe, I dare say, an almost aérial effect
in the spring or elevation, do you not?—Look again. Now
you see it plainly. Have you heard that it has lately, only
lately, been found out that those beautiful columns—oh, they ’re
lovely! (what an excitable person Apollo is! thought 1)—are
curved? I dare say not. Very few people in your streets,
Mr. Bull, know that. Architects and artists know it, but it
has taken them century upon century to find it out, which is
what I was saying.’

‘¢¢T should never have noticed such a trifle,’ said I.

“ «'Trifle!’ exclaimed Apollo, with a scorching frown, ‘don’t
talk of trifles in Art! You would see nothing particular about
the right arm and hand of the Laocoon if it were perfect ; but
let me tell you Michael Angelo did not dare to attempt the
restoration. It takes eyes to see with. Now, look at that
statue, there, of myself. Observe the left arm, and compare it
with mine. You see it isa libel on my form. Look again at
the right arm and foot—they are worse still—they have been
mended, and ill mended too. Look at my knees, Mr. Bull!
Do they turnin? No! But the knees of my statue there do.
Turn to the Laocoon—the left leg is the biggest, though you do
not perceive it. Be sure, however, that in Art nothing is a
trifle. In Greece, my people—I mean, the sculptors whom I
patronised by vouchsafing to them a more liberal inspiration



44 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuar. LIT

than usual—took infinite pains. The backs and corners of
statues, and the least observed portions of public buildings, were
all finished off by the chisel with as much delicate accuracy as
if they had been designed for the most public exposure. O
Mr. Bull, Mr. Bull, I wish you modern Britons had a little more
of this spirit in your Art!’

“¢Thave often wondered,’ I replied humbly, ‘ how it was the
Greeks were so much superior to us moderns in the devotional
and painstaking spirit of their Art.’

*** Well, for one thing, a Greek always had the human form
before him ; under his nose, as you would say. We did not
drape to the excess of you Goths and Barbarians. The type of
beauty being always in sight, at the bath-room, in the gymnasia,
and even in the home and the street, any variation from it
would be unlikely to escape notice. The human form was
universally loved for its own sake, as it will always be where it
is healthily trained and not unduly covered up; and it was an
artist’s glory to produce the most perfect imitation. Then, think
of the fine climate, the sweet bounding air ; and again, of my
inspiring breath—I mean the genius of the people, as you would
call it. My Greeks were born artists. They were a nation of
ideal imitators. It is no more to be wondered at than that the
Romans (I hated ’em) were a nation of fighters, born under
Mars. Then, Art was closely connected with the religion of
the ancient Greeks. I am afraid, Mr. Bull, they were rather
materialistic in their religious tastes, the Greeks. I mean, they
dealt with their gods through temples and statues and visible
things, while you confine your worship to your hearts and private
feelings

“* And our conduct,’ I suggested, bowing to the god. ‘We
are Christians,’





Cuar, IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 45

« ¢T stand corrected,’ said Apollo, ‘I will not quarrel with
you about your chapels and churches, to which you never carry
votive offerings to hang on the walls and lay on the shrines, as
my Greeks used to do. I dare say you have your own proper
ways, and that the world improves as it gets older.’

“ Here something dropped out of a side-pocket in the scarf of
the god, and I stooped to pick it up for him: it was an oyster-
shell !

“¢Thank you,’ said he, with a sad smile—‘ that is one of
the shells that were dropped into the urn when Aristides was
banished by ostracism. I always carry it about with me, be-
cause I used to like the fellow, though he was so sturdy and
inelegant in his notions. Ah! that takes me back to old
times !”

«“ please to take me with you “ back to old times,” as you say. I
should so like to know all about them.’

«“¢Well,’ replied Apollo, very good-naturedly, ‘I don’t
mind. Just wait till I have tied Dobbin to one of the pillars
over there —good Dobbin! Wo! wo! There! By-the-by,
Mr. Bull, what a funny coat that is of yours—I can’t help
laughing at it,’ said Apollo, leaning on his bow.

“Ts it?’ I replied, a little abashed. ‘It is the celebratea
Milton wrapper, and is very much advertised and admired
now o’ days.’

“Ah, I knew Milton; he was a fine fellow; but he never
wore a wrapper like that, I can tell you. I’d have cut him
dead for it. Look at me. This, over my shoulders, is the
chlamys——’

“¢ Very graceful indeed,’ said I, perceiving that he prided
himself upon his personal appearance.

D3



46 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, III.

“Well, I think it looks nice. But the ordinary Grecian
dress for men and women was double. Being a god, I do as I
like; and besides, 1’ve been out shooting—to-day is the anni-
versary of my killing the Python. Men and women used to
wear an under-dress called the chiton, and an over-dress called
the Aimation. ‘The chiton was loose, made of either linen or
woollen, and had sleeves or holes for the arms. Men wore it
as long as to the knee; women lower. The himation was
something like a Scotch plaid—-—’ |

“‘< In pattern?’ I asked.

‘¢¢ No, sir,’ said he, with a smile, ‘but in size and shape ;
and it was worn in a similar way. The women’s chiton was
fastened round the waist by a girdle, and often made very
pretty. The chlamys, such as I have on now, was the usual
riding-dress, and also the dress of little boys. I am not a little
boy, but the Greeks often sculptured me as one—look at that
beautiful Apollino there, for an example. Well, my fellows
used to wear two or three sorts of caps—a scull-cap and a wide-
awake, made of felt, for instance—but not always; they liked
to go about with uncovered head. Women used to wear caps
and turbans. ‘The hair was grown very long, and not many
people shaved. When a boy got to be eighteen years old, they
cut his hair short, and offered it in a sacrifice to the gods; after
which he wore it short for two years, during which he was
called -——’

« ¢ An ephebus,’ I interrupted. :

«¢ Ah, you know, Mr. Bull, I see! An ephebus; and he
wore the wide-awake and the chlamys. As for the feet, some-
times my people wore boots, but oftener sandals only; and in-
doors they wore nothing at all. They did not use any polish—
only a sponge to wipe the shoe or sandal clean. Perhaps you



Cuap. ITI. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. AT

would like to know something of their eating and drinking
ways? Yes? Well, they were not what country people call
“‘ sormandizers.” Sometimes they took bread soaked in wine
just. upon getting up inthe morning ; but, im a general way, they
had only two meals a day—one, in the forenoon, served for
both breakfast and luncheon; one in the afternoon, for both
dinner and tea; after which people kept indoors and enjoyed
themselves. And, let me tell you, Bull,” (was not that familiar
of him ?—Apollo calling me Bull?) “my Greeks knew how to
enjoy themselves without giving the reins to their impulses:
there were no fast men and boys in Greece ; and yet they were
a gay people. They used to eat barley and wheaten bread,
sometimes mixed up with wine, oil, and spices, —pork and mutton,
—black puddings,—onions, garlic, cabbages, beans, and all that.
Fish they were very fond of. ‘Then, they had fowl too. Olives,
figs, nuts, honey, grapes, were used as dessert. They had
spoons to eat with, and pieces of bread served for forks. Meat
was generally cut up before it was served at table. The guests
seldom gave way to intoxication, and were not always allowed
to drink as much as they pleased; a master of the feast, like
your chairman at a public dinner, being chosen to keep order.

«Dinner parties in Greece, called symposia, as you know,
Mr. Bull, were very frequent, and very pleasant. Birthday
parties, sacrificial parties, and bachelors’ or young people’s parties,
were some of the forms of the symposia.’ ”

Here Amy broke in upon Fred’s narration with the question,
whether Apollo told him “how they used to dress for dinner?”

“ He did,” said Fred, “ listen to his words :—

“¢T have been present at a Feast of the Poets in England,
of which Mr. Leigh Hunt has given you an account, and I was
disgusted at the sombre style of dress in use among you



48 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. III.

islanders.. In Greece, the guests used to come to a dinner-
party dressed in the handsomest and most cheerful manner,
perfumed and anointed, and crowned with flowers. As soon as
a new-comer entered the portal, a slave approached, removed
his sandals, and bathed his feet. Then came the dinner, then
the dessert, and the wine-drinking, and the feast of reason and
flow of soul, under the direction of the symposiarch, who mixed
the wine with water in a great big bowl, and then sent it round
in goblets, into which it had been ladled with a spoon.’

“¢ Like our punch,’ I observed.

“ ¢ As you please,’ said the god, ‘I was never a tippler ; it is
a sad thing when a clever dog is too fond of the goblet. Iam
not partial to that sort of poet. I make the remark, because I
fancied your allusion, Mr. Bull, pointed to the convivial. habits
of too many of my devotees, and I wish you to understand that I
do not admire them: ariston men udor, water is best—that’s
my motto, though you wouldn’t think it. When I used to be
worshipped, with Artemis and Leto, at Delos—ah! those were
times!—a great many extravagant things were done, and my
Greeks gave way to a good many frenzies ; but, on the whole,
J was worshipped in olden days in a much more respectful and
rational manner than by some of your tipsy poets. I was
always a sensible god, and my Greeks knew it. How else
could I keep my head clear for uttering the oracles when all
the world came to Delphos, and hold my bow steadily for the
archery in which I excelled ? However, this is self-praise.’

“T took advantage of a modest pause Apollo made here, to
ask him about the Ancient Mysteries and the Religion of his
Greeks, He told me this :—

“Of all our mysteries, you know, I dare say, Mr. Bull, the
mysteries of Eleusis, in honour of Ceres, were the most cele-



Cuap. IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 49

brated. Every Athenian was bound to go to Eleusis.once, to
see them. It was a sort of Confirmation, or grand sacrament of
his religion. There would be a band of pilgrims, and they
walked from Athens to Eleusis, a distance of about twelve
miles. When they got there, they had to undergo ceremonies
of purification, and sacrifices were offered by torchlight. Then,
as we Greeks (as I have told you) were never ashamed of our
mortal bodies, and thought the gods were pleased to see us
keep them in good condition—as, in fact, we admired what
those horrid Romans called the mens sana in corpore sano—the
sound mind in sound body—and thought the gods did too—we
always got up sports and athletic games, in which prizes of
honour were contended for. At dead of night the candidates
for initiation were led into the Temple of the Mysteries, dressed
in fresh, clean raiment, and wearing crowns of myrtle upon their
foreheads. As they passed the sacred portal, they dipped their
fingers into a font of holy water. Soon after, the high priest of
the occasion received them, with stern and awful brow, and told
them that a pure heart was expected of every candidate who
came. Then he read to them, out of a sacred scroll, the
meaning of the Mysteries, and catechised them concerning their
preparation for so august an occasion: had they subdued their
animal passions by fasting? had they resolved to encounter
worthily whatever terror they might meet? and so on. These
questions answered, the Mysteries began, and they contained
many things which I cannot describe to one so young as you,
Mr. Bull, junior. Thunders rolled, and lightnings flashed in the
gloom. Earthquakes shook the ground, and fearful rumblings
and mysterious voices made darkness horrible. Daggers
gleamed, blood flowed, and shades from Pluto’s realm passed
whitely through the dark. Then the sad story of the Great



50 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuap, ITI.

Mother and her daughter Proserpina was acted over. The
initiated was left overwhelmed with pity and terror, and, after
seeing so much, was supposed to be all his life free from the
power of passion. But, perhaps, you would like to know some-
thing of the procession sculptured on the frieze of the Parthenon
there? Thatis the Panathenaic procession, in honour of Athene,
the patron goddess of Athens. It took place once every year,
and also with peculiar splendour once every four years. All
the citizens and sojourners, men, women, and children, went to
this festival on the Acropolis, and the procession bore an em-
broidered robe, which was to be put over the statue. Old
men, with olive-branches, went first; then middle-aged men,
with shields and spears, behind; and beside them went the
foreigners, carrying little boats to indicate that they had come
from afar. Next, the women; then the young men, crowned
with millet and singing the praises of the goddess) These
were followed by a beautiful band of patrician virgins of Athens,
carrying baskets and offerings, while the girls from abroad bore
parasols and seats; and the little boys closed the procession.
Then there were games and contests of physical strength, and
dramatic and musical performances.—It was always insisted
that an animal offered to the gods should be sound and healthy.
When it was brought to the altar, its usual food was offered to
it, and it was expected to taste it. Then the priest drew a
knife over its back from head to tail, under which operation it
was expected to stand quiet, as a sign of willingness to be
offered up. The celestial gods were propitiated or offered to in
the morning of the day (though the subterranean or infernal
gods were worshipped at night), and this was the way: the fire
was lit on the altar, which was sprinkled with meal and
water——’



Cuap. IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 51

“*You basted the altar; we baste the meat,’ said I, ven-
turing on a joke. :

“ «Then the officiating priest dipped an olive-branch in the
water, or one of the faggots, and sprinkled the congregation.
A sort of crier demanded “ Who is here?” The people re-
sponded, “Many and good.” Then the crier warned the people
present to keep a religious silence, which meant to avoid uttering
any unlucky words ; and the priest, after saying, “ Let us pray,”
delivered a prayer. After the victim had been examined and
tested, as I told you just now, there was another prayer. The
priest took a cup of wine to his lips, sent it round among the
company, and emptied what remained on the victim’s head.
Frankincense being spilled into the crackling fire to make it
odorous, the animal was slain, and part burned. While it was
being consumed, another prayer was offered up, and the people
sang a hymn to the music of a flute, and danced around the
altar. The hymn sung in my honour was always called a pean
—a word which you moderns employ to indicate almost any song
of praise. Often there was a sort of sacred, but cheerful, dinner-
party, and the whole was concluded with a libation of wine,
publicly made, and the pronouncing of a benediction or invoca-
tion at the moment of the outpouring. My Greeks had no
Sundays, as you have, but festival and sacrificial occasions were
frequent, and a man might take or make almost as many
holidays as he liked or could afford.’

“ «JT have read,’ said I, with a little timidity, as I could not
tell but I might offend Apollo, ‘I have read that the Greeks
had a great many silly, childish superstitions.’

« ¢ Ah, I dare say you have,’ replied the good-natured god.
‘But you must not draw hasty conclusions. No doubt the
Greeks were superstitious, but they were not silly in every case



52 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. III.

where a modern critic of their rites and ceremonies might sup-
pose them to be so. ‘Time obliterates the reasons and the
meanings of many things, and trifles appear foolish to-day
which had wisdom in the yesterday of antiquity. My Greeks
thought a hare running across the path a bad sign; so do some
of your country people in England. Things which happened on
the right-hand side of the body they esteemed lucky—on the
left the reverse, namely unlucky, It was unlucky to use words
meaning death or ruin, at certain times, especially during reli-
gious services ; and sneezing was sometimes treated as an ora-
cular declaration of the will of the gods. The raven was sacred
to myself, and treated as an oracular bird. Meanings were put
into the turn the smoke took, the noise made by wine in being
poured from a flagon, and numerous other trifles—but perhaps
it was better to wait upon the will of the gods in a mistaken
way than to do almost everything from cold-blooded se/f-will,
as too many of your excessively “ enlightened” moderns do!’

“¢ Your people seem to have taken great delight in their
temples and the images of their gods,’ I said.

“ «Yes, truly. Why, do you know the statue of the Olympian
Jove, in the Temple near where the Games were held, was made
of ivory and gold, and sixty feet high! Statues like that, Mr.
Bull, were made by men—not by puny fellows like your artists
now-a-days. Every boy in Athens, clever or not clever, was
exercised in running, wrestling, archery, javelin-throwing, ball,
quoits, and boxing ; so, if there happened to be a genius—like
Phidias, for example—he grew up an athletic, manly genius,
and threw off work with some sinews in it. Ah, deary, deary
me! My Greeks knew how to combine grace and strength,
and they did it. My Greeks, Mr. Bull, lived in a country less
than Portugal, not 300 miles long, and not 200 broad, but they



Cuap. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 53

were fine fellows—fine manly fellows! The poorest citizen
had his daily bath ; good wrestlers were counted heroes ; Crito-
bulus said, “ I swear by the gods I would rather have beauty
than all the powerof kings.” Look about you, in this little
lumber-room of mine, and see what splendid things the fellows
did. Look at that Venus Victrix there. Look at that spirited
Mercury. Look at that Fortune poised on a globe. Look at
the Antinous. Look at the Adonis with the arrow-shaft in his
hand. Look at that Sleeping Cupid. Look at that Venus
taking out the thorn, when the drops of blood from her white
foot turned to violets on the greensward. And, oh! look at
that glorious Dying Gladiator there-——

“Ah? I interrupted, ‘ has not our Byron sung beautifully
of him ?—

‘“‘T see before me the gladiator lie:
He leans upon his hand—his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,
And his drooped head sinks gradually low.” ’

“You needn’t quote any poet to me, Mr. Bull,’ replied
Apollo. ‘I know ’em all by heart of course. Look, sir, at that
Diana, shielding the sacred fawn with the golden foot from the
pursuing Hercules—look at the elastic spring of her beautiful
limbs, and the wrath of the insulted goddess dilating her glo-
rious eye! Ah, one of your poets, Bull, sang a pretty Hymn to
her in his “ Cynthia’s Revels ””—Ben Jonson—(a fine fellow was
Ben, but rather proud, and sometimes rude to his betters, my
Shakspeare for example). Do you know his hymn ?—

“ Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep :
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright,





54 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IIT,

“ Harth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose ;
Cynthia’s shining orb was made
Heav’n to cheer, when day did close.
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright.

“ Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver ;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever :
Thou that mak’st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.”

The part of your Byron’s verses about that Gladiator which I
admired most, Mr. Bull, was that closing imprecation—

“ Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!”

O wasn’t I glad when those Romans were served out! Look,
sir, again, at that Juno“ ox-eyed Juno” as we called her.
Look at Minerva with her snake-entwined egis, or her helm of
the time of Pericles (I could weep for that time!). And-look,
sir, at that Boy and Dolphin—did you ever see a sweeter
face?—and at those tipsy, mischievous Fauns there—I am
sure, if—Hark! what is that?’

“ Tt seemed, in my dream, that we heard the sound of a horn.
Apollo started, turned as pale as a god could be expected to
do, and, with a hasty nod, dashed upon the shoulders of Dobbin,
and left me in a luminous, golden smoke of beautiful perfume !
Very surprising conduct, was not it?”

“I dare say,” interposed Hetty, “ashe hated the Romans so,
it reminded him of the Roman horn, and he couldn’t bear it.
Poor fellow!”



Cuar. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 55

“Why, Hetty is almost as clever as Fred,” whispered Bob
to Bella. Fred continued :—

“There my dream about Apollo’s lumber-room ends. The
only other picture of what I saw in Greece with which I shall
trouble you now is this, of the market in Athens, which I passed
through in the morning, after I awoke. I will paint it in the
words of a famous writer, named Becker. ‘The market-place
was rapidly filling with people when I got into it. Traders
had set up their hurdlework stalls all over it, with their wares
exposed on tables and benches. Here the female bakers had
piled up their round-shaped loaves and cakes, and were pur-
suing with a torrent of scolding and abuse the unlucky wight
who happened, in passing by, to upset one of their pyramids.
There simmered the kettle of the woman who sold boiled peas
and other vegetables; in the crockery-market hard by the pot-
men were descanting on the goodness of their wares; a little
way off, in the myrtle-market, chaplets and fillets were to be
sold, and many a buxom flower-weaver received orders for
garlands to be sent home by her in the evening. All the wants
of the day, from barley groats up to the most dainty fish; from
garlic to the incense of the gods; clear pure oil and the most
exquisite ointments ; fresh-made cheese and the sweet honey of
the bees of Hymettus; cooks ready to be hired; slaves, male
and female, on sale ae

“Your Greeks ought to be ashamed of themselves, Mr. Fred,
for keeping slaves,” exclaimed Amy, bridling up, and turning
red with virtuous indignation.

“ My dear girl, that sentiment does you credit ; but in Greece
and in the East, slavery was not the horrid revolting thing it is
in America, mind that.—Well, ‘ There were all these to be
found in abundance at their customary stands. There were others





o

56 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. ITI.

who went about crying their wares, while every now and then a
public crier crossed the ground, announcing with Stentorian
voice the arrival of some goods to be sold, or the sale of some
house, or perhaps a reward for the apprehension of a robber or
runaway slave. Slaves of both sexes, as well as freemen, kept
walking up and down, bargaining and inspecting the stalls in
search of their daily requirements. Several, too, hovered longer
than necessary about a pretty shopwoman, or approached some
fruiterer’s basket and commenced a friendly conversation, under
cover of which, while some other person was buying or having a
drachma changed, they would pilfer the fruit.’ ”’

“Then there were thieves in Greece?” inquired Bob.

“Thieves, I should think so, Bobby mine!” replied Fred.
‘‘ Lots of thieves. There were housebreakers and footpads there,
as well as in England. In some things, of course, my Greeks
were very different from English people ; for instance, the men
and not the women went to market to make the household
purchases, but, on the whole, they were very much like us in
minor matters ; for example, gossips and quidnuncs used to go
to the barbers’ shops to talk over the news and the scandal, just
as they do here.”

“Wern’t you very much frightened in your dream, when
Apollo came down on horseback to speak to you?” asked
Bobby.

“Frightened, I should think so! I felt quite excited. But
I tell you I have had to go through a good deal. On my way
from Athens to the place where I had seen the dancing Alba-
nians by the night-fires on the shore, in the blue starry mid-
night, I should have been very hungry if it had not been for a
chapel dedicated to Hecate, which I found by the road-side.”

“What on earth did you find in the chapel, then ?”



Cuar. IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 57

“ O, only eggs and Welsh rabbit.”

“ Welsh rabbit! you are joking.”

“Not I, Bobby. Rich people put toasted cheese and eggs in
such places for the sustenance of wandering beggars. Well, to
make a long story short, I escaped Mediterranean pirates and
shipwreck in the Bay of Biscay, and, putting papa’s talisman in
use, got home by the very same Roc that had taken me thither,
feeling rather tired and very pleased. I must confess the
figures of the Fates, in Apollo’s lumber-room, left a terrible
impression on my mind for a long time, and the face of Euripides
was rather awful ; but I didn’t care. I enjoyed my journey, and
so I did the next, which I will tell you another time, if you
like.”

Bobby thought to himself, and, indeed, he said to Bella, “ If
I’m to wait till I’ve been and seen all Fred has seen, and can
tell it as well, Bella, before I have a stand-up collar and wear
a surtout, it will not be just yet.”

But Bella comforted him with kind encouraging words, and
we shall know, by-and-by, 1 dare say, all about his progress and
the surtout and the stand-up collar. Meanwhile, we must not,
for truth’s and goodness’ sake, pass by, without a word of pro-
test, the enthusiasm of our genial friend the “lord of light and
the unerring bow.” in favour of the palmy days of his Athens
under Pericles. Let me employ, for this purpose, the plain but
forcible words of the Rev. James White, who says that “here,
as in all other instances, the despotism of one degraded the many.
Cimon, with more virtue but less genius, had combined the cha-
racters of leader and improver ; but Pericles, unable to contend
in generosity with the richest man in Attica, and yet deter-
mined not to leave him a monopoly of popular gratitude for the



aD: THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IIT,

liberality of his gifts, converted the funds of the commonwealth
into donatives to the poor. He paid the populace equally for
being idle and being employed. The works of the city were
carried on by the slaves; the poorer of the free inhabitants had
nothing to do but receive their allowance from the public coffers,
with a further payment for condescending to sit in judgment in
the courts of justice and listen to the noblest oratory that human
lips had yet uttered. Seats in the theatre were free ; and there
the masterpieces of human genius were shaking the hearts of
breathless thousands with the terrors of tragedy, or irritating
the passions of a volatile population with the bitterest lampoons
in the shape of farce. Meantime, the porches, the covered ways,
the arcades of temples, and the newly-planted Academe, were
filled with the anxious disciples of great philosophers, listening
to the honeyed words of wisdom, or the cutting tones of objur-
gation and contempt, poured into their ears by the masters they
particularly followed. On every side of them rose wonderful
buildings, consecrated nominally to the worship of the gods, but
acting, in reality, as triumphs of refinement and art. Statues
smiled upon them in the deathless beauty of the Apollo, or
awed them with the grandeur of superhuman power in the
colossal form of Minerva. Nothing was wanting to the develop-
ment of the national intellect or the deterioration of the personal
character. They were a people of critics and lawyers, and poli-
ticians and philosophers; they caught the faintest hint conveyed
in the subtlest language, and perceived the slightest blemish
either in speech or picture; yet they were false and unprin-
cipled—greedy of money, greedy of praise. Pericles had refined
them into judges and connoisseurs, and sunk them into paupers ;
he cultivated their tastes and flattered their wildest desires.”



Cuap. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 59

There is truth in this, and it should be remembered by us all
that very great artistic culture, and a fine development of the
human animal, do not at all imply an educated conscience.
Some day you will understand me better when I say that a life
whose be-all and end-all is Art, is made up of beautiful selfish-
ness, which will react in degradation.



60 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. LY.

CHAPTER IV.
SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY,

LirrLe Hindbad, Bella, Amy, and Hetty, being all ready to
listen as usual, Sindbad began the narration of his third journey
as follows :— :

“The Roc which carried me to Sydenham was not only a
comfortable easy-going Roc, you must understand, but it was a
regular, punctual, obliging sort of animal, and admitted me
under one of its fins as often as I chose. I had only to put
papa’s talisman in my pocket and go to the place where I had
first seen the Roe, to find my way into fresh adventures of a very
interesting, if startling, description. If my last adventures sur-
prised you, those I am about to narrate now will surprise you
infinitely more. Yet I shall say nothing for which I have not
good grounds—and thus it was :—

“¢ My civil and punctual friend, the Roc, took me under his
fins one day, just as before, and whizzed with me through the
air with the same rapidity, till he landed me in the most beautiful
Garden I ever was in in my life. I dare say you, Amy, and
you, Hetty, know something about gardening, so you will quite
understand all I am going to say.

“In what are called the Middle or Dark Ages, when there
was little going on but fighting and squabbling and thieving
between hostile barons and clans, and people stayed’a good deal
inside their fortresses, gardens were laid out for the pleasure of
high-born ladies and lords within the walled squares of the
castles, and with great art. The space being confined, and



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SINDBAD’S OBSERVATIONS UPON GARDENING,—?. 60.



Cuar. LY. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 61

natural beauty for the most part demanding a large platform, at
least in every form of the landscape, people fell back upon mere
art or invention, and a formal style of treating pleasure-grounds
grew into use, in which cut hedges, trimmed alleys, fountains,
imitation rock-work, statuary, urns and vases, were the dis-
tinguishing features. Art was almost everything, Nature quite
subordinate—although there were some formal attempts, as in
the case of the imitation-rocks, to reproduce some of her bolder
features upon a small scale. This style naturally came to its
climax in Italy, the land of art, the nurse of civilization in the
Middle Ages, and the inheritor of the traditions of ancient
Rome, of whose gardening it was a eopy. It is called the
Italian style; and though gardens in Italy are now more after
the English or natural model than they used to be, they are
still laid out in a formal and artificial manner.

“Tt was not till near the time of Shakspeare and Bacon that
gardening became an art in England. Henry VIII. had a
very fine garden at Nonsuch Palace in Surrey, in which he put
a marble pyramid, with holes in it, which escaped notice till you
got pretty close, and then sent out jets of water upon you,
sprinkling you all over in a shameful manner. This was con-
sidered a first-rate joke, and, as it was the joke of a king, it
was very soon imitated all over the country by people who could
afford such a thing in their garden. Then, as you know, there
were the mazes, of which there is one we have all seen at
Cardinal Wolsey’s Palace at Hampton Court. Lord Bacon
wrote a very beautiful Essay on Gardens, beginning, ‘God
Almighty first planted a garden, and, certainly, it is the purest
of human pleasures;’ and he cried out for the admission of
more pure nature into our gardens; proposing that there should
always be what he calls a ‘heath or desert,’ beyond the em-

E



62 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. IV

bellished part of the grounds. We can al! read his Essay,
when we please, and it is very pretty. In the times of Pope
and Addison all kinds of ‘fantastic tricks’ were played with
gardening ornamentation. Trees were cut and trimmed into
the likeness of animals, statues, and what not. We read, in
humorous papers of Pope and Addison, of ‘a St. George in
box, his arm scarce long enough, but will be in a condition to
stick the dragon next April;’ and a quickset hog shot up into
a porcupine by being forgot a week in rainy weather.’ However,
Pope himself, like Shenstone and Cowper, was a man of taste
and a clever gardener, and he laid out his own grounds at
Twickenham in a very beautiful manner.

* The Dutch style of gardening is what you might naturally
expect from the dwellers in a flat country, intersected by canals
—a country which has been called a ‘ship at anchor ;’ but
which, in my humble opinion, would be better called a barge at
rest. Dutch gardening is very square—if you look at a piece
of flat ground you instinctively think rather of squares than of
curves—very trim, and full of gaudy flowers, such as tulips and
sunflowers. We all know that at one time in Holland fortunes
were staked, and lost, and won, in the cultivation of tulips.
How beautifully Cowper writes of a garden!”

“I think I could repeat his verses,” said Amy, and her
sweet, soft accents were a pleasant change from Fred’s grave
tones, as she recited, with gentle modesty, and a little bashful
blush coming and going on her forehead, the fine lines from the
‘ Task :’—

“To deck the shapely knoll,
That softly swell’d and gaily dress’d appears
A flowery island from the dark green lawn

Emerging, must be deem’d a labour due
To no mean hand, and asks the touch of taste.



Cuar. IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 63

Here also grateful mixture of well-match’d

And sorted hues (each giving each relief,

And by contrasted beauty shining more)

Is needful. Strength may wield the pond’rous spade,
May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home ;
But elegance, chief grace the garden shows,

And most attractive, is the fair result

Of thought, the creature of a polish’d mind.
Without it all is Gothic as the scene

To which the insipid citizen resorts

Near yonder heath ; where industry misspent,

But proud of his uncouth ill-chosen task,

Has made a heaven on earth; with suns and moons
Of close-ramm’d stones has charged the encumber’d soil,
And fairly laid the zodiac in the dust.

He, therefore, who would see his flowers disposed
Sightly and in just order, ere he gives

The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds,
Forecasts the future whole ; that when the scene
Shall break into its preconceived display,

Each for itself, and all as with one voice
Conspiring, may attest his bright design.

Nor even then dismissing as perform’d

His pleasant work, may he suppose it done.

Few self-supported flowers endure the wind
Uninjured, but expect the upholding aid

Of the smooth-shaven prop, and, neatly tied,

Are wedded thus, like beauty to old age,

For interest’s sake, the living to the dead.

Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffused
And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair,

Like virtue, thriving most where little seen :

Some more aspiring catch the neighbour shrub
With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch,

Else unadorn’d, with many a gay festoon

And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well

The strength they borrow with the grace they lend.
All hate the rank society of weeds,

EQ



64 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IV.

Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust

The impoverish’d earth ; an overbearing race,
That, like the multitude made faction-mad,
Disturb good order, and degrade true worth.”

“Very pretty, Amy, and very prettily said,” resumed Fred.
“ The gardens in which I now found myself, thanks to the Roe,
were anintermixture of the Italian and English styles of garden-
ing, and I should say they covered a couple of hundred acres.
The general effect of the arrangement was symmetrical in the
extreme ; and bringing my mathematics into play, I found out,
after careful observation, that the width of the walks, the length
of the terraces, the breadth of the steps, and the other propor-
tions of the whole scheme, were all multiples or submultiples
of the number eight. Beautiful terraces and _balustrades,
streams and lakes, arcades, a Temple of Roses, dark cedar-
trees, and white statues, varied the scene; and I could have
fancied I was in an enchanted ground, as perhaps I was,—en-
chanted by—well, never mind by whom or by what !—when, all
on a sudden, a number of fountains sprang into the air, and sent
up the water in white feathery columns that seemed to play
with each other and with the clouds, and ask the Sun to turn
them into rainbows, and then bashfully slip down again, and
away. O, it was a pretty sight, I can tell you! But even
while I was thinking how pretty it was, the white columns sank,
and I saw a tall, awful, beautiful form emerging from the large
basin ; a form which seemed to cover the whole horizon, without
darkening it, and, above all, to be bent upon speaking to me /
It was the grandest figure I ever beheld. Seemingly of female
sex, venerable and yet young, of a grand, sweet, matronly
beauty, the Being sublimely rose from the subsiding water
against the rounded sky, and smiled at me. Her head was



Cuap. IY. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 65

crowned with a diadem of dazzling snow and ice, round which a
halo of coruscating purple hovered in a flashing fitful way, which
made me think of the northern lights, or the electric fluid sent
through a glass tube. Her mantle, of rich, dark green, varied
with autumnal brown, the colour of the ripened fields, was
dotted with flowers,—daisies and roses, lilies of the valley,
and fuchsias; while a few rhododendrons clustered on her ice-
bound forehead. Folded about her in a thousand undulations
was a vast scarf of a lighter green, a clear emerald, fluttering
in the wind, and bordered with the whitest ermine. There
were a few streaks of grey in her floating hair, and a mark or
two of care on her cheek. I thought she seemed anxious to
hide some spots of blood which stained her daisied skirt; and,
as she smiled, and prepared to address me, she pointed solemnly
to an inscription, which I had not before noticed, upon her girdle
—‘ The Eartu is the Lorp’s, and the fulness thereof.’ I felt
impelled to ask the awful beautiful stranger who She was,
though I confess I had a notion. So I asked the immemorial
question put to ghosts and burglars by night—

«WHO ARE YOU?’

* Graciously bending down her forehead till a breath from
her lips sweeter than the south wind infused courage into my
spirit, she said in accents of softest reproachfulness,—

“© ¢ What! do you not know your own Mother?’

* ¢ Mother!’ I exclaimed.

“¢ Yes, Mother, the great, general mother ; bountiful and
strong, and ready as ever to tell her children her secrets. I
am MoTuer Eartu.’

“ At this moment I could have kissed her feet, so sweet and
loving was her voice—but I only drew in the odour of the
flowers on her robe, and kept silence. She began to speak again.

E3



66 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuapr. IV.

‘“‘ fountains, and, as I thought you one who likes to know and to
be wise, and I am ever willing to tell my story to such as will
listen, I took counsel with Water, and came up through the
Central Fountain there, to tell you some of my secrets, my most
ancient secrets. It is not usual for a lady to disclose her age,
but as I am ever young, or ever renewing my youth, I don’t
mind telling you—and you may tell as many of your fellow-
mortals, children of mine, as you please—that I am millions of
years old, and had a history of the deepest interest before one
of you men trod the valleys. Look at me; do I seem old?
Ah! I see you are admiring my emerald scarf; that is what
you call the Sea, and the foam is the ermine-like border. I
should be glad, sometimes (and here the Being shed a few
tears), if this scarf of mine were wide enough to cover the blood-
stains I so unwillingly bear !’—There was a short pause. .....

“ Looking at Her crown of peaked ice, I couldn’t help
shivering, and asked Her if she was not rather cold? She
smiled, and said—

*“¢Oh no! How should I be cold? You don’t know how
many coats I have on, my child. And, now I think of it, the
best way to tell you my earliest secrets, will be to take off my
coats, one by one, and show you the curiosities hidden in their
folds. But mind, my dear child, you must not be alarmed, if
some of these curious secrets of mine should seem very ugly and
horrible to you. I have carried them in my bosom for so many
ages that I have become accustomed to their shapes; and, in~
deed, some of them have got cracked and broken, when, in
moments of excitement I have shaken up the folds of my coats,
or drawn my scarf tighter about me than usual.’

“ Mother Earth seemed so kind and communicative that I



Cuar. IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 67

began to take courage, and to feel prepared to listen to her
disclosures without apprehension. As she seemed to point to a
retired and distant spot in these beautiful gardens, I concluded
that I had better go thither, and that she would then take off
some of her coats and show me the curiosities hidden in their
folds, as she had promised. Thither, accordingly, I went,
when the beautiful Mother proceeded to address me as fol-
lows :—

“ superficial covering. You give it various names in your geo-
logical books. First you have the vegetable soil, then peat,
then gravel, then blue clay. But my interior coats lie lower
down, next in order to the clay. First of all comes the third,
or, as you call it, the Tertiary coat. This is a coat with three
histories, belonging to its Eocene, Miocene, and Pliocene periods
of wear. In the plastic clay, flinty limestone, and shelly de-
posits of which this coat is made, you find a good many curiosi-
ties, but they are of a kind which is not extraordinarily remote
from such curiosities as now appear upon my outer coat ; croco-
diles, gigantic tapirs, whales, mastodons, ruminant animals,
mammoths, and soon. In my Primary, or unfossiliferous coat,
which is very strong and hard, made of granite and gneiss, and
slate, I have, indeed, some curious things, but they are not of
the kind which I shall now describe to you. At the time when
my second, or Secondary, coat was uppermost—for I did not
always wear the third or Tertiary, only I want more warmth as
I get older and the cares of a family increase upon me—my face
was not like what it is now. Bats almost as long as your friend
Sindbad’s roc (you see I know all) were flying about in the hot
air in chase of dragon-flies larger than your bats; crocodiles
and tortoises three or four times bigger than any you see now



68 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Guar, IV.

were swarming and nestling and crunching and munching and
snoozing in stifling jungles; and, besides these, there were—
but ¢hey ave amongst the curiosities I have to show you now,
and I shall alight upon them in due time.

“*TLook at this island—it is a cutting from my Secondary
coat. You perceive it is composed of several sorts of stuff.
First, there is the Chalk ; 2nd, the Wealden; 3rd, the Oolite ;
4th, the Lias; 5th, the New Red Sandstone.

“* You know what Chalk is—it is what your schoolfellows,
when they are rudely playful, mark dunce on your back with.
(Here the Great Mother graciously smiled.) ‘ And you know,
in addition, that the white cliffs of the southern coasts of Eng-
land are very striking specimens of chalk. But, considering
how enormous are the masses in which it appears in this coat of
mine, you may be surprised to hear that every atom of chalk
which you see, and many millions you never did and never can
or will see—no, not even when I take you to my bosom again
—came out of living creatures and plants, at one time or
another. White chalk is what your chemists call carbonate of
lime, and it is made of dead coral animals, shellfish, &e., re-
duced to this form partly by chemical, partly by mechanical
eauses. In the coral-reef, the manufacture of chalk for a future
coat of mine is going on at this moment, against the time when
I shall want it.

& © Well, you are aware that you men sometimes go foraging
about in the folds of my coats; and I have not the least ob-
jection, for I keep all sorts of usefull and pretty things there on
purpose for you; coal to warm you in winters gold and silver
for ornament and for use; iron and steel; and beautiful jewels
for crowns and rings—to say nothing of salt, and stone, and slate,
and gravel, for all which you find a use.



Cuar. IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 69

“¢ On the borders of the river Meuse, in Germany, some work-
men were once digging deep for chalkstone, when they found
part of a very curious thing indeed, in a dilapidated condition.
A learned doctor, by name Hoffmann, was called in by the
men, and he took great interest in the pieces that he found, and
put them together. But my poor children are very quarrel-
some. They went to law over this curiosity. One of the
canons of the cathedral at Maestricht pretended to have rights
in the soil of the quarries which gave him a title to what the
workmen and Dr. Hoffmann had found, and the law went for
the greedy, stupid canon. But mark the chances and changes
of time! In 1795, fifteen years after the curiosity had been
turned up, the French army poured shot and shell into the
town where it lay, but received strict orders not to hurt the
curiosity, which was carried away and put into the Garden of
Plants at Paris. Look here, I can show you what its head was
like! Four feet and a half long, two feet and a half wide:
sharp-pointed teeth, you see, in the usual place on the jaw;
but, besides these, a row on a bone of the roof of the mouth, as
in some monster lizards. Pretty creature, wasn’t it? It was
about thirty feet long altogether—seven times as long as you are
high. I keep this sort of curiosity in the chalky part of my
second coat, and it used to frequent the seas, and catch and
devour all it could. You call it in your books the Mosasaurus,
meaning the Lizard of the Meuse (which in Latin is Mosa).
But some of you have found little fragments of other specimens
in other parts of the chalky layers of my coat; for instance, in
Kent and in America. This is one curiosity out of your Mother
Earth’s coat, you see.

“ «But here is another; and this zs curious, indeed; one of
the most curious things I have to show you, perhaps. It is not



70 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Car. IV,

the animal slain by the patron-saint of your England ; but, for
all that, it is a flying dragon, or winged lizard. When you
mortals found. it, you called it a Pterodactyle, which is a name
made up of two Greek words, pteron, wing, and dactylos, finger,
because the wings are attached to and borne up by the little or
outer finger of the claws at the end of the fore-limbs. Here,
you see, is one preparing to fly down upon its prey. Here is
another, sitting or squatting, looking something like a cross
between a dragon and a pelican, in the attitude of a giraffe
lying down. The wings of this ancient curiosity of mine were
made of folds of skin, like a bat’s, and the body was covered
with scales, like a lizard, and not with feathers, like a bird.
Then, what answered to a beak, at the end of the long neck,
had long jaws full of sharp teeth. The largest of these curious
things were about eighteen feet from tip to tip of the wings;
but they were of all average sizes, from that of a snipe to that of
a cormorant. They had large eyes, and could see by night: they
had claws at the ends of their wings, which fitted them to climb,
to crawl, or to hang from trees; and some of them had tails.
Strange creatures, these, were they not?’ said Mother Earth.
I replied that they were, indeed ; and, though the two I saw
were as dead as ditch-water, they looked so hideous and so
formidable, that I once or twice felt a shudder run through me
as I gazed. I wondered if the man that drew the willow-
pattern had ever seen a pterodactyle, as he made such funny
birds ; and if Milton 2

“ O, I know what you’re going to say,” said Amy to Fred ;
“ you’ re going to quote some lines out of ‘ Paradise Lost ’°-—

‘The Fiend
O’er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,

With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,
And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.’ ”





Cuap. IY. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 71

“ You are right, Amy dear; I was: the passage is in the
Second Book, and it applies very well to this wonderful creature
of the old, old times of Mother Earth, with the wings of a bat,
the neck of a bird, and the head of a crocodile, with its asto-
nishingly large eyes, and its prehensile claws.

“ ¢ These pterodactyles,’ continued Mother Earth, ‘ did not live
exclusively on insects, they used to plunge and wade for fish in
the seas and rivers. But I have so many more curiosities in my
coat to show you, that I must hurry on.

‘** We now come to the Wealden, which is made up of stony
clay, sand, &c. Here, you see, is a sort of crocodile, but one
that did not eat animal food. When some of the teeth and
some of the bones of this curiosity were found, your great Baron
Cuvier guessed at once that they belonged to an “ herbivorous
reptile.” Youcall it the Iguanodon. It looks more elephantine
than you might suppose from my calling it a sort of crocodile,
and I must confess it was not pretty. As a géneral rule—one
which your Mr. Edmund Burke has said something about in his
book upon ‘ The Sublime and Beautiful’—big things are ugly
rather than pleasing, and this curiosity of my younger days was
thirty-five feet long from his nose to his tail, and twenty feet
round the thickest part of his body. His tail only was fifteen
feet long. He used to keep house on the banks and at the
mouths of rivers, and he lived on trees, preferring a vegetable
diet. This, which you call the Hyleosaurus, was a reptile of
the same sort, only he carried his head higher and drier, was
stronger in the rear, and longer-legged. I can’t say much for
his beauty either, but he used to enjoy himself in his way when
he was well provided for. Next to the Wealden part of my
second coat lies the Oolite, which you call ‘so because the most
striking thing in it is limestone made up of minute egg-like
grains. Oon is Greek for egg, and lithos for a stone "





73 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Citar. IV.

“ Are you quite sure,” interrupted Bob, “ that Mother Earth
remembered her Greek when she told you that? because in
John i. 42 it says Cephas means a stone.”

“ Mother Earth was quite right, Bobby, my boy. Don’t
you remember ‘ litho-graphy,’ stone-drawing? The word in
John i. 42 is Petros, or a rock, and the translators made a slip
in the rendering they have given. Well, Mother Earth went
on :—

«Tn this layer of my coat I keep, among other quaint things,
here and there a Megalosaurus (or Great Lizard—Greek,
megas, great; sauros, lizard), like this. He was a flesh-eating
lizard, a most terrific fellow both for size and for quality. He
was over thirty feet long; he has been guessed at forty or fifty.
His teeth were dreadful to see, and his temper was unamiable.
If you put together a carving-knife, a ‘Turk’s sabre, and a saw,
you get an idea of this individual’s masticating apparatus, and
he made good use of it, I can assure you. Here, again, are
two creatures you have taken to calling Teleosauri, when any
specimens have been turned up. They were a sort of crocodile,
only better swimmers, fonder of the water, and more a sea-
animal, I shall tell you nothing more about this part of my
coat, except that you find in it, when you pull it about with
your spades and so on, the remains of animals like the opossums
of Australia. Also some sorts of shell-fish and trees, such as
are now found in the South Pacific, as you call it, and which
were once common in your Europe.

“ which is made of limestone, marl, and petrified clay. Out of
this I take, for you to look at, some sea-lizards, which you call
Enaliosauria. Here is an “ Ichthyosaurus,” looking something
like a cross between a whale and a crocodile, which used to
spend its time chiefly in the water, but partly on shore, so you



Cuar. IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 78

call it a fish-lizard (ichthys, a fish). It had no scales, but a skin
like a whale’s; a wide mouth, long jaws, and sharp teeth, to
enable it to masticate the animal food, of which, in a partially
digested state, you sometimes find the specimens called coprolites.
This curious lizard-fish had an enormous and powerful eye,
covered with overlapping bony plates to protect the pupil from
the weight of the water above, when it dived for its prey, or was
rising to the surface of the sea.’

“* Have not some fishes such a protection to the eye now?”
asked Hetty.

“No,” replied Fred—* not like that—not so complicated ;
only turtles, birds, lizards, and tortoises. Mother Earth went
on with her disclosures :—

“*What do you think of this?’ said she. ‘Your fellow-
mortals call ita Plesiosaurus. a neck like a serpent, the ribs of a chameleon, the paddles of a
whale. This long-necked sea-lizard was rather an awkward
walker or waddler, from its paddles ; and an awkward swimmer,
from its tremendous neck; so it used to skim the open sca,
diving with its neck for its prey, or to lurk in the shoal-water
among the reeds, where its neck again enabled it to reach a
good distance outwards after anything it fancied, without moving
its body. Not being prompt in its movements, and having a
great many enemies in those very predatory times, it was
solitary in its habits, and used to skulk in holes and corners a
good deal, out of harm’s way.

“ «The next and last portion of my Secondary coat is called
the New Red Sandstone, which is above the Lias and under
the Coal in your country. I shall not trouble you with any
curiosities out of this part of my coat but these Frogs—big
enough to chew you into mincemeat and stow you comfortably

Â¥



74. THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IY.

away. This one is called the Salamander-like Labyrinthodon,
and, I must confess, he is no handsomer than some of the other
curiosities I have shown to you. O, yes, I had forgotten—I ’ve
so many things to think of. Here’s the Dicynodon, a sort of
sea-reptile, with tusks like a walrus, and some of them with a
head like an owl’s. And now you have seen enough for once.
Unless, perhaps, I show you just a thing or two out of my third,
or Tertiary coat; for instance, this Great Sloth dragging down
a tree to eat the leaves, or this Paleotherium, or these Elks.
A comical assemblage, I confess, but they look more na-
tural, and “feasible,” and “ Christian-like” (if I might say
so), than the curiosities in my other and lower coat, do they
MO? cet, evens

“ Mother Earth now made a pause, and seeming to give a sign
by a nod of her head, where the pine-trees rose dark against
the snowy mountains, a change came over the scene. The air
became hot and stifling. Tall palm-trees darkened the day.
The great Frog croaked as loud as thunder. The Pterodactyles
flapped their huge wings. The Sea-lizards plunged into the
water and floundered about. The Land-lizards began to fight.
The Paleotherium roared in the distance, and the noise and
confusion were terrible. Still the Gracious Mother smiled
above all, and looked as if she expected me to think of the
Ancient Mariner of Coleridge, when, in the horrors of the
tropical calm,

‘ Beyond the shadow of the ship
He watched the water-snakes—
and to sympathise with him—
‘ O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare ;
Sure, my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.’



Cuar, IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 75

But I thought them hideous and frightful, and betrayed by
my: uneasiness a desire for a change. ‘The Mother saw it, and,
with another nod of her brow, waved away the whole scene as
if it had never been, and, speaking no word, disappeared into
the fountains. Instead of these pre-adamite deformities, I saw,
as in a vision, smiling cornfields and thronged cities, where men
who were kind and brave, and women beautiful and fond, and
children innocent and gay, lived and loved, and wrought and
worshipped! Pondering what Mother Earth had told me of
her coats, and how slowly she had been prepared for the beauty
and proportion of her matron bloom, I felt in my own coat for
papa’s talisman, and again availed myself of the obliging Roe
for my homeward journey; thinking this bird much more useful
than a Pterodactyle, and not half so ugly.”

“ But then,” interposed Amy, “the Pterodactyles had their
uses in their day, and there was no Fred to see their ugliness.”

“ Right,” dear Amy, says Fred—‘ Bobby is useful in his
day, and he was made to see how pretty Bella is; but he
doesn’t, for he’s fast asleep.”

“I’m sure I aint!” cried Bob indignantly,—“I was only
shutting my eyes to try if I could see anything like what you
saw, but I couldn’t dream it all. I did a little bit though, and
I shall dream more next time I try.”

Good Bobby! He dreamed, in that night’s sleep, of a Plesio-
saurus in a stand-up collar, and a Pterodactyle in a surtout,
engaged in a fight for the honour of taking Bella to the Poly-
technic Institution.

FQ



76 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. V.

CHAPTER V.

SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY.

SrnpBav’s fourth journey commenced thus :—

“My next journey, performed chiefly with the aid of the
talisman and the Roc, which I found very convenient, was to
Weissnichtwo.”

In pronouncing this word, Fred, who was only just beginning
German, made such a noise in his throat, that Bella and Bob
burst into a laugh, for which they were gently admonished by
Amy, who said she knew the place very well, and that Fred had
given it the right name in German.

“ Then, where is it, Miss Amy?” asked Bob, rather saucily.

“ Where? Little boy, it is where Romulus and Remus
were suckled by a she-wolf, and where Goody Two-shoes was
born and bred, and where your Five Senses went when you were
fast asleep last night.”

“ Well, I don’t know any more about it, now,” said Bob, with
a perverse twinkle in his eye, “and I don’t believe you do
either.”

“ Very good, Bobby,” says Fred; “ perhaps we shall know
more about it by-and-by.. But, at present, I expect you to
listen to what I am going to tell you about my Fourth Journey.
I went, as I was saying, to Weissnichtwo, and there I saw a
good many more things and people than I can inform you of.
Some of them I will mention, and the rest you can go and find
out for yourselves one of these days. Weissnichtwo is a curious
place, and as full of wonders as Noah’s Ark.





SINDBAD’S JOURNEY TO WEISSNICHTWO (“ DON’T KNOW WHERE”).—P. 76,



Ouar. VY. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 77

“In Weissnichtwo I found, first, some things and persons
which appeared to me to have come all the way from Central,
and Eastern, and Southern Asia, and the South-eastern Asiatic
Archipelago, on purpose to meet me; and though they looked
unamiable or dirty, and some of them did disagreeable things,
I did not mind so much while they kept clear of positive
cruelty to their fellows. First of all, surrounded by bamboos,
rhododendrons, azaleas, camelias, magnolias, tea-plants, orange-
trees ; yaks which had trotted down from the hills, wolves, otters,
tigers, monkeys, rhinoceroses, humped oxen, camels, and what
not (it was just as if the people who brought Birnam Wood to
Dunsinane had brought their farmyard too), I saw some queer-
looking fellows, whom I at once recognised for Mongelians of
Central Asia, broad and high-cheeked, wide between the eyes,
and flat-nosed. I asked these gentry if they knew much of the
exploits of Tamerlane, and they answered me in a confused way
something about worshipping the Grand Lama and the Tsar of
Russia, or the Emperor of China. They looked as if they
could hardly say bo/ to a goose, so that it was not easy to
fancy their ancestors great conquerors, under the guidance of
the soldier who carried the fallen Bajazet about in a cage.”

“Do you mean to say you can talk Tibetan, Mister Fred?”
inquired Hetty.

“ Listen,” said Fred, evading the question. “ Fustumfunni-
dosrigdumrumidos raratara squarablaraboshyboo squashyboo tan-
tarapol!” That made them all burst out laughing; but Fred
declined to translate his bit of Tibetan, if Tibetan it was; for
you notice, I daresay, that he did not answer Hetty’s question ;
perhaps because he thought it impertinent.

“ Mingling with these Tibetans,” continued Fred, “ I saw some
pure East Indians, of different classes and castes—a few almost



78 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, V

like negroes, except in the hair; a few fairer and more intel-
ligent-looking. These were believers in Brahma and Budh,
and nobody knows what; but I also saw a few Malays, who
were Mahometans, from Malacca or Sumatra; and some who
were Pagans, from Java and elsewhere. These were bolder,
sharper-looking than the Tibetans and Hindoos, and not so
flat-faced. They looked very revengeful. Some had filed teeth,
and some stretched ears. Some had had the hair on their chins
and cheeks pulled out by tweezers, or rubbed away by quick-
lime. Some had earrings, some had tremendously-long finger-
nails, These Malays are, you must know, a commercial people,
fond of barter, and fond of the water. They are also fond of
excitement of all kinds, and so fond of gambling in particular,
that a Malay will lose his wife and family upon a fighting-cock,
and then sell himself for a slave to make another bet. One of
the ways in which the Malayan love of excitement shows itself
is well known to be that of ‘running-a-muck,’ as it is called—
that is, rushing frantically ahead with a dagger, stabbing at
random till fatigue knocks him down; but none of my fellows
ventured on this elegant pastime in my presence.

“ My attention, as a traveller in this miscellaneous and un-
accountable country of Weissnichtwo, was next called to some
Lubus, Battas, and Nias people, from the long island of Su-
matra. The Battas are, you must know, the only literary can-
nibals in the world. They have books like Christians, and
they eat their prisoners of war and criminals condemned. When
a man is to be eaten, they cover his head with a cloth, tie him
to a tree, and throw lances at him till he is mortally wounded.
When that is the case, they all rush up, and begin to cut slices
from his body, which they dip in a dish of salt, lemon-juice, and
pepper, and then broil a little, before eating them. They be-



Cuar. V. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 79

lieve in three gods; and that, when a man dies, his soul escapes
through his nostrils, and goes somewhere else on the wings of the
wind, to a happy or unhappy place, according to the life he has
led. They say that at first the earth was supported on the
head of Naga-padoha, who shook it off when he was tired, so
that the land sank, and only water remained. Then the chief
god Batara-guhu’s daughter Puti-orla-bulan came down below
upon a white owl, with a dog at her side; but not being able
to stay for the water, her father let down a great mountain for
her to live on, and from that all the other land grew. The
Nias folks have a shocking way of killing themselves and their
wives out of hand, when they do not feel comfortable ; but they
are a handy people, and know how to use tools of all sorts, and
instruments of art, very skilfully. I suppose Spurzheim would
say they have small Hope and large Constructiveness.

“You never heard, I dare say, of the Tenggher people in
Java? I saw one of their funerals, and a pretty sight it was—
full of poetic and kindly feeling. They live in a most beautiful
country, where the climate and the vegetation are almost
European in character. They have no such things as great
crimes among them, and, when any one does wrong, it is punish-
ment enough for the head of the village to give him a scolding.”

‘“* Hadn’t we better all go and live in that part of Weiss-
nichtwo, as you call it?” slily asked Hetty.

“T think, deary, we’d better all stay where we are and do
our duties—we should, perhaps, corrupt these good people. Or,
if we are adventurous, let us go and try to civilise bad people ;
for instance, the fierce Dyaks of Borneo and _thereabout,
some of whom I saw. They are very proud and revengeful,
fond of tattooing and of great earrings, and they are respectful
to the dead, whom they bury with great ceremony, first burning



80 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuap, V

torches beside the coffin for a week. The youth are trained in
swimming, wrestling, the sword-exercise, &c., and in some
places a young man cannot win a bride without taking her a
human head, as a specimen of what he can do—but the passion
for heads is dying out now. The manner in which they killa
victim who is to be offered to the memory of the dead is very
horrible. Just think of making it a festive occasion, firing
guns, and making a sort of fair of it, the victim quietly waiting
in sight of the grave ready-dug, till transfixed by as many
spears as can find room to enter the body, to the music of the
applauding mob! Go away, Dyaks, we don’t like the look of
you! Here come some Papuans and Australians. Funny
Papuans! building their huts on piles to keep out rats and
water, and frizzling up their oily hair into such masses that they
are obliged to lie down on pillows for their necks when they go
to bed! Some of them are well-made, handsome fellows, of a
chocolate colour, and clever archers. Much stronger and
better looking than two Australians whom I saw,—umiserable,
half-starved, thin-legged creatures, whom it was not pleasant to
look upon. They understand bleeding for the headache, but, as
they are poor in ideas, they have a very poor language. They are
good swimmers, but cannot count more than five. They believe
in a sort of god who lives on fish and comes up from the sea
when he is called; in white angels who keep up in a mountain
in the south-east, who eat only honey, and do good; and ina
monstrous black being named Wandong who does all the mischief
that is done. But this fiend has different names in different
parts. They have various opinions about a future world after
death, all of them being of a low and stupid order. When a
boy comes to about fourteen, they have certain ceremonies for
making a man of him, At dead of night he hears a horrid



Cuar. Y. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 81

noise in the woods, and is told Bubw is calling for him. Then
he is carried off and taken by his seniors through a course of
dances, sham-fights, and so on, a very barbarous resemblance to
the Eleusinian mysteries of Mr. Apollo’s friends the Greeks ; to
teach him to be bold, and in all things to behave like a man.
Afterwards, he is to be very particular in what he eats and
drinks, and to live on the coarsest food, till he is considered
quite a man; which is a good many years. When a man has
done wrong, they make him ‘stand punishment ;’ that is, they
put him in the middle of a ring, with a shield, which he uses for
his own protection, and then the whole tribe throw their spears
at him; sometimes he is only hurt, rarely killed off. I did
not like the looks of these Australian fellows, so I got off to
another part of Weissnichtwo as quickly as I could. I came
across some strangers from the eastern coast of Africa, Danakils,
half-negro, half-Arab, in appearance, looking something like
Jews, and leading a‘camel to water. ‘Then some Negroes from
the Niger lowlands, flat-fuced, thick-lipped, broad-nostrilled,
with woolly hair and slanting teeth. I saw a negro king, in a
drummer’s coat and black hat, wearing a blue cotton hand-
kerchief for the remainder of his dress; along with a group of
women-soldiers before him, singing in chorus—

‘ With these guns in our hands,
And powder in our cartouche-boxes,
What has the king to fear ?
When we go to war, let the king dance,
While we bring him prisoners and heads !’

I saw some of the Veys, who live near Liberia, and who have

lately invented an alphabet and set up schools, never having

previously reduced their language to shape. I saw, in the midst

of a landscape of thorny shrubs, aloes, acacias, and Cape-lilies,
F3



82 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. V

with antelopes and buffaloes in the distance, some Zulu Kaffirs,
tall and dark, and some Bushmen, shorter and of a lighter
colour. The Zulus were assembled in a conjuring or divining
circle in quest of a thief, with the Fetish-man, who was to find out
the culprit, in the midst. As for the Bushmen, their appearance
certainly did not belie the accounts given of them by missionaries
and others, who describe them as a sensual, lazy, thievish race,
essentially wild men, whom it will take two or three generations
to mend and reclaim thoroughly.

“The next thing which happened in my journey through
Weissnichtwo was that I found myself suddenly cast on the
other side of the Atlantic among the savages of America.
Through the haunts of the stupid-looking penguins, I passed to
the land where the chinchilla, so valuable for its fur, and the
llama haunt the mountain ranges, and fuchsias and petunias are
bright and beautiful in the valleys. Further north I went—
for Weissnichtwo is a large country—into the Brazils, among
toucans, humming-birds, monkeys, jaguars, pumas, and sloths.
Further north still, among cactuses, aloes, and mighty forests,
where cities in ruins lie buried, and the Victoria lily sleeps upon
the bosom of the lake. Of the southern savages, I saw, and
was not, I can assure you, particularly gratified to see, the
Botocudos, who bear that name (which is Portuguese and means
plugged) because they have invented and put in use the most
utterly hideous and senseless way of abusing the ‘human form
divine’ that ever entered into the debased imagination of a
savage. These miserable, bloodthirsty, predatory creatures cut
open their lips and ears, and insert pieces of wood by way of orna-
ment—not chips, but good big blocks. When they fight with each
other, which is pretty often, they, of course, every now and then,
knock out a bit of wood, and leave pieces of torn flesh hanging.”



Cuap. V. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 83

*“O don’t Fred!” cried Amy ; “I'd rather not hear; and you
shan’t take me to Weissnichtwo, if that is the prettiest thing to
be seen there.”

“Well, we will pass on. The Indians of the Amazon are
not much more attractive, from their tattooing and painting so
much, and I will not tell you, because it is so horrible, what the
Mundrucu I saw had been doing with his enemy’s skull before
he produced it so proudly upon that pole of his. Nor will I say
much about the Caribs, whom I saw using their blow-pipes and
shooting with their arrows at the fishes; nor about the Red
Indians whom I caught in a war-dance, because you can learn
more about them in Mr. Longfellow’s Hiawatha and the notes
to it than I could tell you in any short time. Turning my steps
from this part of Weissnichtwo, I could not help thinking of the
mistake those people make who fancy that the savage state is
the natural state of man, or that he is stronger or healthier in
barbarism. ‘The Kaffre and the Red Indian may run down the
deer and other animals; the Hindoo may keep up with the horse
for days; the South-Sea islander may swim comfortably in a
heavy sea where a. life-boat would hardly venture; but, taking
one thing with the other, civilized man is taller, stronger, and
healthier than savage man. His strength at the loins, or lumbar
power, as it is called, has been repeatedly shown to be greater,
by actual experiment.”

“Tm sure,” said Hetty, “I shouldn’t be pleased to see you,
Fred, like one of those horrid Botocudos, with a wooden lip
besides the natural one. How do Botocudo papas kiss their
babies, I wonder ?”

This made them all laugh; and Fred replied that he should
not like to see Hetty dressed in skins, grubbing about for roots,
or chewing half-cooked buffalo-steak. “But,” he continued,



84 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuar. V,

“after all these disagreeable sights I had pleasanter company
on my way out of Weissnichtwo, I saw a greater number of
bright and beautiful faces of the noble ones of the earth than I
can now recount, though I also saw one or two ugly fellows also.
I saw Aspasia hanging on. the arm of Pericles, while Plato
talked to them both. I saw Maximinus, the Roman Emperor,
who was eight feet high, who wore a woman’s bracelet for a
ring, and could kick a horse dead at one blow ; and oh, at what
a rate the monster was eating! I saw Julius Cesar at his toilet,
combing forward his hair to hide his baldness. I saw Cimarosa,
the Italian musician, who had listened, when he was a baker’s
boy, with the dough in his hand, to the singing, at the keyholes
of Aprili, till Aprili caught him at it and sent him to school. I
saw Blaise Pascal, the great Frenchman, who in his twelfth
year, and without previous instruction, demonstrated Euclid’s
thirty-second proposition, using charcoal upon the floor, when
books and writing materials were denied him lest he should
overwork his brain. I saw Haydn, who, born of very poor and
humble parents, became one of the greatest of musical com-
posers; and Mozart, not so poorly born, but perhaps greater,
who could play and compose music at four years old. I saw
Grace Darling, the heroine of the Northumberland Lighthouse,
with her sweetly noble face of serenest courage, and wished that
I might some day be as noble. I saw Franklin, the printer’s
boy and American Statesman. I saw John Hunter, who was
only a carpenter and could scarcely read at twenty years of age,
but became, before his death, our greatest Comparative Anato-
mist. I saw (listen Amy, and Hetta, and Bella) Mary Somer-
ville, the most scientific lady of our day-——”

“1 shall read her ‘Connexion of the Physical Sciences,’ some
time or other, I hope,” said Amy.



Cuap. V. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 85

“ Let usread it together,” replied Fred. “I saw, besides, our
great Faraday, who was the son of a poor blacksmith, and is now
the first electrician in Europe. I saw the glorious Washington,
who not only made his own great, unsullied name, but made a
great nation out of a dependency ——”

“‘ What nation?” said Bella.

“ Only America,” replied Fred, with a kind smile. “TI saw,
besides, her most gracious Majesty the Queen and Prince Albert,
and took off my hat to them ; and—and—let’s have the National
Anthem!”

Fred's auditory were a little surprised when he broke off and
gave the first verse of “ God save the Queen ;” but after all his
funny stories there was no accounting for his ways, so they joined
him. The last note was scarcely sung when off he scampered,
calling out, “Come again to-morrow, and I'll tell you more!”

What made him run away like that, I wonder? I fancy
he did not want to be asked any questions about Weissnichtwo,
which is certainly, according to his account of it, a very myste-
rious place indeed! Can you make it out ?



86 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar, VI.

CHAPTER VI.
SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY,

« Apyorntnc Apollo’s lumber-room, as he called it,”—began
Sindbad, in relating his fifth journey,—‘‘T had noticed a sort of
continuation or lobby in which I had no difficulty in recognising
touches of the Rome to which he was not very favourably dis-
posed. For, first of all, I observed that the statues which were
lying about in it had, many of them, more of the encumbrance
of armour than the Greek habitually gave to his; and, secondly,
noticed the presence of the arch, as an architectural feature.
The early Greek was not a soldier; otherwise than as it was
necessary to be so to defend the fatherland, and to complete
his idea of a man: the Roman was a soldier born, and the
mailed hand which grasped the ever-ready sword for perpetual
warfare had a less graceful command of the chisel of the artist,
in consequence. Then, in the train of conquest, followed luxury ;
and the Roman became a mailed, overdressed, perfunctory
animal, whom the Graces visited but seldom, and who stole a great
deal more art and philosophy than he originated. The study of
the human form declined ; the seulptor chiselled emperors, em-
presses, and soldiers, draped and armoured, and laden with
insignia, rather than men and women, or gods and goddesses.
Roman art was a debased copy of the Greek ; and the noblest
things they produced were the Coliseum, or Amphitheatre of
the capital, which was capable of holding 90,000 people to see
the public shows; and their sewers, aqueducts, and roads,



Cuar, VI. SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY. 87

Still, though they were deficient in grace, they made up as well
as they could in magnificence, and I very well remembered
seeing, through the arched doorway that led from Apollo’s
lumber-room to this sequel or out-house,—if I might call it so,—
the walls of rare marble, porphyry, and malachite, with which
the luxurious fellows were glad to adorn their private houses ;
somewhat to the neglect of the temples of the gods, and greatly
to the injury of art; the vulgar taste readily accepting magnifi-
cence in place of elegance. Bobby, boy, do you understand
all this?”

“Yes,” said Bob, with a light over his countenance which
showed that he did,—a little.

“ Then tell me what is the difference between elegance and
magnificence,” replied Fred.

Bob paused a moment or two, bit his lips, blushed, and then,
turning to his little friend, said, “ Bella, you know better than I
do; tell him for me, that’s a good girl; I know, but I can’t
say. I’m afraid of making a stupid of myself.”

“ Well,” answered Bella, “I should say a swan is graceful,
and a peacock is magnificent. A lily is elegant, a tulip is
splendid.”

“ Capital, Bella!” said Fred, and Bobby kissed her hand,
and nestled close to her, more profoundly impressed than ever
with her superior wisdom ; but above all with Fred’s, and with
the gulf between him and the surtout.

“ As for the Arch, which we find in Roman, but not in
Greek architecture, it is a mistake, perhaps, to suppose it
originated with the Romans. The idea has been found just
touched, though not dwelt upon, in architecture more ancient
than that of Greece or Rome. But if the Romans had known
only the Greek way of roofing in,—by a flat block upon



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12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00036.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00037.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00037.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00038.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00038.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00039.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00039.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00040.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00040.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00041.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00041.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00042.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00042.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00043.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00043.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00044.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:24 PM 00044.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00045.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00045.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00046.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00046.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00047.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00047.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00048.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00048.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00049.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00049.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00050.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00050.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00051.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00051.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00052.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00052.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00053.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00053.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00054.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00054.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00055.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00055.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00056.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00056.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00057.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00057.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00058.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00058.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00059.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00059.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00060.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00060.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00060a.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00060a.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00061.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00061.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00062.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00062.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00063.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00063.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00064.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00064.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00065.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00065.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00066.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00066.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00067.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00067.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00068.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00068.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00069.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00069.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00070.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00070.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00071.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00071.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00072.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:25 PM 00072.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00073.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00073.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00074.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00074.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00075.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00075.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00076.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00076.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00076a.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00076a.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00077.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00077.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00078.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00078.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00079.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00079.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00080.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00080.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00081.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00081.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00082.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00082.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00083.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00083.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00084.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00084.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00085.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00085.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00086.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00086.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00087.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00087.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00088.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00088.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00089.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00089.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00090.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00090.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00090a.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00090a.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00091.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00091.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00092.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00092.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00093.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00093.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00094.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00094.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00095.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00095.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00096.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00096.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00097.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00097.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00098.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00098.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00098b.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00098b.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00099.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00099.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00100.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:26 PM 00100.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00101.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00101.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00102.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00102.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00103.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00103.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00104.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00104.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00105.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00105.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00106.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00106.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00107.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00107.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00108.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00108.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00109.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00109.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00110.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00110.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00111.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00111.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00112.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00112.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00113.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00113.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00114.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00114.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00115.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00115.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00116.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00116.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00117.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00117.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00118.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00118.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00119.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00119.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00120.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00120.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00121.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00121.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00122.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00122.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00123.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00123.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00124.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00124.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00125.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00125.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00126.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:27 PM 00126.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00127.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00127.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00128.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00128.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00129.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00129.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00130.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00130.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00131.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00131.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00132.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00132.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00133.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00133.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00134.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00134.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00135.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00135.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00136.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00136.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00137.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00137.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00138.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00138.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00139.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00139.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00140.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00140.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00141.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00141.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00142.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00142.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00143.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00143.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00144.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00144.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00145.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00145.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00146.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00146.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00147.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00147.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00148.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00148.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00149.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00149.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00150.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00150.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00151.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00151.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:28 PM 00152.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00152.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00153.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00153.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00154.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00154.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00155.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00155.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00156.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00156.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00157.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00157.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00158.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00158.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00159.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00159.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00160.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00160.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00161.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00161.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00162.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00162.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00163.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00163.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00164.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00164.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00165.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00165.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00166.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00166.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00167.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00167.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00168.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00168.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00169.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00169.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00170.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00170.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00171.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00171.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00172.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00172.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00173.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00173.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00174.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00174.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00175.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00175.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00176.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00176.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00177.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00177.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00178.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00178.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00179.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00179.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:29 PM 00180.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00180.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00181.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00181.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00182.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00182.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00183.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00183.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00184.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00184.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00185.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00185.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00186.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00186.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00187.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00187.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00188.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00188.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00189.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00189.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00190.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00190.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00191.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00191.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00192.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00192.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00193.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00193.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00194.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00194.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00195.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00195.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00196.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00196.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00197.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00197.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00198.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00198.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00199.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00199.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00200.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00200.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00201.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00201.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00202.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00202.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00203.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00203.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00204.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00204.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00205.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00205.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00206.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00206.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00207.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00207.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00208.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00208.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00209.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00209.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00210.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00210.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00211.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00211.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00212.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00212.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00213.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00213.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00214.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00214.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00215.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00215.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00216.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00216.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00217.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00217.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00218.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00218.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00219.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00219.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:30 PM 00220.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00220.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00221.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00221.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00222.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00222.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00223.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00223.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00224.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00224.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00225.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00225.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00226.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00226.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00227.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00227.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00228.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00228.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00229.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00229.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00230.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00230.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00231.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00231.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00232.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00232.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00233.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00233.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00234.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00234.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00235.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00235.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00236.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00236.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00237.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00237.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00238.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00238.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00239.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00239.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00240.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00240.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00241.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00241.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00242.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00242.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00243.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00243.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00244.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00244.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00245.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00245.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00246.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00246.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00247.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00247.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00248.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:31 PM 00248.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00249.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00249.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00250.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00250.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00251.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00251.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00252.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00252.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00253.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00253.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00254.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00254.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00255.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00255.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00256.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00256.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00257.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00257.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00258.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00258.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00259.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00259.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00260.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00260.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00261.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00261.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00262.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00262.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00263.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00263.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00264.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00264.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00265.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00265.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00266.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00266.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00267.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00267.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00268.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00268.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00269.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00269.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00270.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00270.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00271.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00271.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00272.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00272.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00273.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00273.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00274.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00274.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00275.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00275.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00276.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00276.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00277.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00277.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00278.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00278.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00279.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:39:32 PM 00279.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

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i


SYDENHAM SINDBAD.
FRONTISPIECE,





Hail aS me

FRED RELATING HIS WONDERFUL ADVENTURES,—P. 6,





aide

THE

Sydenham Sindbad;

A NARRATIVE OF HIS SEVEN JOURNEYS

TO

WONDERLAND.

“ Know’st thou the Land? Know’st thou that pillared pile?
Bright are the halls, and fair the chambers smile,
Where marble statues stand.”—GorrHe,

Jliustrated with Drawings by Kenny Seanotvs,
Engraven by Enmund Evans,

LONDON:
J. & C. BROWN & CO, AVE MARIA LANE.


LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,


eee eS













CONTENTS.
‘DO NOT KNOW TILL THEY HEAR IT oe a Ee PAGE 1
CHAPTER 11,—THE Biase JOURNEY .. oe ve a ee 7
CHAPTER II,—SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY _ se a5 seo Ok
CHAPTER IV.—SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY oA oO 54 ~ 66
CHAPTER V.—SINDBAD’s FOURTH JOURNEY... od 36 oo 06.
CHAPTER VI.—SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY .. a Se ~ 86
‘CHAPTER VII.—SINDBAD’S SIXTH JOURNEY AB oo 3: 96
3 Bae onarree viitabernpaav's SEVENTH JOURNEY as *s -- 109
OHAPTER 1.7 LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE .. be Sade eee BO
" CHAPTER X.—THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL ai ao 3 -. 166
SINDBAD'S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND... er cd me - 207 ; 3
CHAPTER XI,—TELESCOPIC, HOMILETIC, AND VALEDICTORY .. .. 309 . <




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.



.—FRED ON HIS JOURNEY.
FRONTISPIECE.—FRED RELATING HIS WONDERFUL ADVENTURES.

PAGE

60

90

- 99
oy

THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

CHAPTER I.

WHAT ALL THE WORLD AND HIS WIFE KNOW, AND WHAT THEY DO NOT
KNOW TILL THEY HEAR IT.

Att the world knows how Hindbad, lamenting with a loud
voice his poverty. underneath the windows of Sindbad, was over-
heard by that great traveller, and invited into the house, in
order that he might hear the recital of Sindbad’s marvellous
journeys by sea and by land. All the world knows how
Hindbad, in listening to the story of the wealthy Sindbad,
learnt that his riches were not got by an Open Sesame or a
lifting of the finger, but by many laborious voyages and in the
teeth of many perils. All the world knows how Sindbad
travelled with a Roc whose egg was as large as the dome of
Saint Paul’s; what terrors he encountered in the Valley of
Diamonds, in the island of the Cannibal Ogre whose eye he
poked out with red-hot meat-skewers, in the country where they
bury living husbands with dead wives and vice versé, and from
the embraces of the horrible Old Man of the Sea, till that dis-
agreeable individual made himself tipsy and fell off his back.
All the world knows, in brief, how Sindbad won his wealth, how
Hindbad was edified by knowing that not he alone, but others,
had had to work and fight for their most valuable possessions,
and how Sindbad made him comfortable every evening, during
B
2 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuapr, I,

the period which the narration of his wonderful voyages occupied,
by a present of a hundred sequins. These things all the world
knows perfectly well; but there are things which neither all the
world, nor you, nor all the world’s wife, know anything about
at present. I know them. I could keep them to myself if I
chose. But I do not choose. On the contrary, it is my inten-
tion to communicate them to you in the first instance, trusting
that all the world and his wife may hear of them through your
kind instrumentality, and be as much obliged to me as you will
be. And there is to be no delay about it; I shall begin this
very minute, this very moment!

This is what all the world and his wife do not know, till I tell
you, and you tell them :—

In the reign of the mighty sovereign whose image is on the
half-crown your grandpapa put into your teacup last birthday
morning, there lived in London, exactly as Hindbad lived in
Bagdad, only in a more comfortable way by far, a little boy
whose name was— Bos; not a letter more, not a letter less.
Bob he was, and Bob you will please to call him. I cannot
put two syllables into his name, because Hindbad’s name had
two. Nor can I make him a porter, because Hindbad was one.
Bob was a young gentleman at home for the Midsummer
holidays, but at present on a visit at the house of a schoolfellow
who lived in a beautiful country about four miles from the
General Post Office, Saint Martin’s-le-Grand, called Clapham.

During this visit, Bob,—who was a fine, cheerful fellow, but
rather rackety, and also a little apt to play out of playtime, and
let his books get dusty when they were uot forced into his hand,
—our dear Bob had been much struck with the superior infor-
mation of his schoolfellow Frep, and he felt, once or twice, just
for a moment or two, half inclined to envy Fred the opportunities
Cuap. I. INTRODUCTION. 3

his larger attainments seemed to give him of cultivating the
acquaintance of his elders. Fred was listened to whenever he
spoke; Bob was not. Fred talked freely with his seniors who
wore stand-up collars and tailed coats, and they listened to
him, and answered him again, and went on conversing ; Bob
could only get a casual remark in here and there, with a stroke
of the head, and a laugh, and perhaps a romp in return. But,
what was sadder than all, and went right through Bob’s heart
and came out on the other side like an arrow, was the circum-
stance that Fred’s company was always sought by his own
cousins Amy and Bella, and by Bob’s sister Hetty, who would
walk arm-in-arm with him, and seem glad when he would
talk with them, and clap their hands when he was to accom-
pany them anywhere, “because,” said Amy, and Bella, and
Hetty, “Fred can explain what you see and hear so nicely ;’—
while to Bob they behaved quite differently, though very kindly
indeed. They would take him by the hand, instead of leaning on
his arm, and rather show him things than ask him to show them
things, and never ask him questions as they did Fred. All this
was very painful to the feelings of Bob, and once or twice,
during his stay, he let a big tear fall on the hoop. he was
trundling side by side with Hetty, and wiped his eye with the
end of his stick first and the cuff of his jacket-sleeve afterwards.

Jacket-sleeve, indeed! The cup of our dear Bobby’s sorrow
was not yet full. One day, Fred, in Bob’s presence, was
summoned from the garden by the housemaid, with an air of
mystery which betokened something fresh and important in the
wind, to say nothing of the dignified step with which Fred
~ returned, after the lapse of ten minutes or thereabouts, to the
play-ground. Bob looked hard at him, and so did Amy and
Bella and Hetty,—harder indeed than Bob, being ladies and

B2
4 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, T.

having more curiosity—with that inquisitive beseeching look
which means asking a question without a word being spoken ;
but Fred maintained a solemn silence, and went on with the
game they had been playing. As they were returning to the
house at dusk, Hetty went close up to Fred, and whispered in
his ear. At first, Fred only shook his head and pretended to
push her away ; but, after a little coaxing, he whispered in her
ear too, something which made her clap her hands and look very
pleased. “Ah!” thought Bob, “he has told her the secret—I
wonder if I shall ever know it!”

Bob’s wonderment did not last very long. In exactly five
days it came to an unexpected end. Fred was missing from
the morning game in the grounds. Suddenly he was espied,
arm-in-arm with Hetty, walking on a gravel path not far
off, in—a surtout coat! Tears rushed into Bob’s eyes, and
he was a melancholy boy for the rest of that day. At
bed-time he got a few minutes all to himself, in which to
bewail his jacket, and to say in his mind, “O, if I knew as
much as Fred, perhaps I might have a surtout in a year or two,
and take Bella to the Polytechnic, instead of Bella taking me
and buying me Banbury cakes as she would for a baby!” So
Bob, who had been reading Robinson Crusoe, went to sleep and
dreamt that he was wrecked on a desolate island; that Friday
came to see him in a surtout coat and a stand-up collar; that
he lived in a hut like a diving-bell, with Bella in the corner
munching Banbury cakes all day long, and repeating what
‘Fred had told her when they went to the Polytechnic, only she
did not speak plainly because her mouth was so full of puff-paste
and jam.

The next day, Bob, unable to surmount his trouble, and
pining for a surtout and a stand-up collar, walked solitarily
Cuap, I. INTRODUCTION. 5

about the garden, instead of complying with Fred’s invitation to
stay in-doors and hear him tell curious stories to Amy and
Bella and Hetty. But dear little Bella kept paying such a
divided attention to Fred’s instructive and entertaining speeches
that, at last, that young gentleman stopped short, and said he
wouldn’t tell any more nice things unless Bella listened.

Bella observed, rather tartly, that “‘she wanted Bob.”

“‘Then,” said Mr. Fred, “go and fetch Bob, and make
haste about it, or else well go on without you.” So Bella went
out to fetch Bob, putting on one of her pleasantest smiles,
because she feared he was offended about something,

Now Bobby was drawing a garden-roller about for amuse-
ment, and looking very warm indeed, when he saw Bella tripping
his way; but he took out his handkerchief, and wiped his
face, and freshened himself up, and made himself fit to speak to
a lady, by the time she got close to him. “Bobby, dear,” said
Bella, laying her little hand on his arm in the most winning way,
“why don’t you come in and hear Fred talk? He’s going to tell
us all about his travels, just like Sindbad the sailor! What is
the matter with you, Bobby mine ?”—This, you will remember, is
just the way the servants of Sindbad came out to Hindbad when
his soliloquy had been overheard. Now Bob was ashamed to
say, “I’m sulky because I haven’t got a surtout coat ;” so he said
‘¢O Bella, I wish I knew as much as Fred does!” and lifted his
cuff to his eye, in a manner that cut poor little Bella to the
heart. But she cheered him up, and smiled sweetly, and put
her arm round his neck, saying, “Is that all, my Bob?
Why, come and hear Fred say what he knows; and then, of
course, you'll know it too, and perhaps your pa will give you a
surtout like his!”

“QO,” thought Bobby, “O, what a wonderful girl is Bella!
6 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, I.

_ She has divined my most secret thought! I will go with her, and
listen to Fred, and see how soon I can know as much as he
does.” So Bob walked along with Bella towards the house
in a little better humour. When they got inside the room,
Bella said, “ Now then, Sindbad, strike up! Tell us all your
travels; and this is Hindbad come to hear you, see!”’

“* Bella,” said Fred, “do you imagine that is the way
Sindbad’s servants addressed him when they introduced Hind-
bad? Did they tell Sindbad to ‘strike up,’ think you? If
this is to be an Arabian Night’s Entertainment, please to behave
something like an Arab, Miss Bella. The Orient, dear, is the
land of courtesy.”

“QO, Fred, don’t be too serious,” replied Bella. » “I am like
an Arab—a wild Arab!” Now it was not in our good-
natured Sindbad to resist this; so he began as follows, little
Bella keeping close to Bob out of good-nature, because he
appeared dull and low-spirited.
Cuap, IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 7

CHAPTER II.

THE FIRST JOURNEY.

“ to magnify what I have done, but it certainly does appear to
me that my travels are far more wonderful than those of Sind-
bad, or Robinson Crusoe, or Ulysses, or Marco Polo, or Robert
Knox, or Busbequis, or Captain Cook, or Mrs. Ida Pfeiffer.
More wonderful, considered both as to what I have seen, and
the time, and the space, and the means for seeing it. Call me
Sindbad then, if you please, but be prepared to hear stranger
things than any related by the Sultaness Scheherazade ; and note,
at the same time, that whatever I tell you is strictly true, and
that you can follow my example almost any day you please.

“T¢ was on a fine afternoon last holiday-time that, not being
disposed to read, and having nothing particular to do, I made
up my mind, instead of idling about, to go to E@ypt, and be
home to tea.”

This made them all titter, and Bella and Bob laughed out
aloud.

“To go to Egypt, and be home in time for tea,” resumed
Fred, in a stern voice; “and if you girls don’t keep the peace,
without interrupting me again, I’ll write a note to the Great
Sphinx, who is my particular acquaintance, and ask her just to
come and eat you up, as she did the people who couldn’t solve
the riddle about the animal that walked on four legs when young,
on two when mature, and on three when old! To go to Egypt
before tea, I say ; and, in pursuance of that intention, I placed
8 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. II.

in my pocket a magical talisman bought by papa, made out of
a piece of card, on which were inscribed mysterious ciphers in-
telligible to certain parties; and, feeling very fresh and strong,
struck out on foot in the direction of Dulwich. As I did not
go into the College there, founded by Alleyne the player, I
cannot now tell you anything about the picture-gallery, or about
the quality of the ale and bread-and-cheese the inmates still
supply, as bound by the Founder's will, to the hungry and
thirsty traveller. Nor will I rebuke the incredulity of those
who do not believe in the Man in the Moon, by stating the
conversation which I overheard, in passing, between the con-
ductor of an omnibus and the Man in the Half-Moon. Leaving
these matters, I will simply state that I had a very pleasant
walk of about five miles, through a richly-wooded country, and
that at last I had to ascend a steep hill, from which the eye
commanded a very beautiful prospect indeed. After resting a
moment at the summit, I proceeded—by a road which I need not
particularly point out now, as a better one is open to future
travellers—to a certain barrier, which gave way upon my pre-
senting the talisman, and allowed me to make the best of my
way to Egypt, which I did by keeping to the left till I reached
it, having accomplished the whole of the journey in about an
hour and a half, without undergoing the smallest inconvenience,
and in the boots which I have on at the present moment.
“Standing in the doorway of the Temple which lay before
me, I devoted a few minutes to reflection and observation.
How could I forget that I was in the country where Joseph had
fed his brethren during the famine in Canaan; where little
Moses had been found wailing in the green rushes on the banks
of the blue river by the good-natured princess, Pharaoh’s
daughter, and rescued from his intended grave; where that


EGYPT! AND THE EGYPTIANS.—P. 9.
Cuar. IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 9

same Moses had grown up, learned in all the wisdom of the
Egyptians, to be the leader and deliverer of those Jews who
had built the pyramids, being denied straw to bind the aay of
which the bricks were made; the land to which Plato the wise
came for wisdom, and Antony the brave to lose his empire—
a vast, solemn, mysterious, changeless land, Eaypt, the mother
of the nations? Something of the serenity and mystery which
belong to all that is Egyptian stole over me as I stood—and
I was only roused to look about me by the discordant noises
which assailed my ears in different directions. On the one
hand I heard a party of mourners keeping up their howling
lamentations over a dead body; and on the other the songs of
the Nile boatmen, some of whom, however, were quarrelling
and making a very disagreeable screeching noise; while, cer-
tainly, I cannot venture to put their songs in comparison with
what is told of those of the Venetian gondoliers.

“Stirred from my trance by these sounds, I began to look
about me, and found I was on an elevation from which I could
command a view of the whole country as far as the eye would
carry me. It happened to be the period of one of the Nile
inundations, and I saw a sight which would have frightened
Bella a little, I fancy, as she is so timid of the water. What
do you think it was? Why, a party of Egyptian boys and
girls, swimming from one village to another, in the gayest
manner—kick, kick, splash, splash, shouting and hollaing, and
playing pranks with each other, just as if the ichneumon had
not been munching the crocodile’s eggs on the muddy bank ;
just as if the crocodile himself were not close by with his long
scaly back and horrible teeth! See what use does. Bella is
frightened of an ox in the street. A little girl about her age
_in Egypt pinches her little sister for fun, and pulls her hair,
BS
10 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IT,

while the crocodiles are skulking about ready to make mince-
meat of them! What was stranger still was to see a couple of
the men who make swimming a pursuit tie their feet together,
and float along the water upon their backs, each man holding a
pipe in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other! We Eng-
lish boys have to learn to swim; but, I suppose, in a country
which is so often under water, it comes quite natural, as it does
to tittlebats.”’

“Say stickle-backs, Fred,” interrupted Amy.

“Amy, don’t be pedantic,” replied Fred. “I don’t know
whether little boys go fishing for tittlebats in the Nile, with
bottles and rods, as they do on the New River and the River
Lea; but they have some curious fish in that river of theirs
over and above what you might expect. ‘There are herrings,
and mullets, and salmon, and so on; but there are, besides,
two or three fish of a deadly sort. For instance, the Schielar,
which has fins that cannot be eaten, because they are poisonous ;
and the Fahaka, which is said to be poisonous altogether, in
addition to a stinging or venomous quality in its skin. But I
should not have thought to mention fish, if it had not been for
tittlebats.

“My great regret was that I was too early this trip for the
Grand Nile Carnival, which takes place at Cairo in August.
That is a fine sight, I can tell you! The waters of the Blessed
River are allowed to glide into the city, the embankments being
cut away, amid the acclamations of the people and the salvos
of cannon. The city is illuminated, and, as the festival is held
in the dusk of the evening, not even the light of the lamps
and fireworks can always keep the mad populace from losing
their lives in plunging into the water after the coins which are
then thrown in to be scrambled for. This is part of the cere-
Cuar. IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 11

mony, and it often results in the drowning of several persons ;
so that the ceremony, as at present performed, does not differ
so very much from that of ancient days, when a human sacrifice
was offered up to the god Serapis. I would rather be one of
the people in the boats, as they float into the city with the
tide of the released river, whose welcome waters glide into the
open places, freshen up the trees, and make Cairo sweet and
clean for a time at least. Well may the townsfolk come flock-
ing forth as they do on these occasions, drinking the water,
bathing in it, and calling on Allah, if the water of the Nile
be, as some one has said, to other waters what champagne is
.to other wines. There is a mad Arab poet who sings that if

Mahomet had tasted the waters of the Nile, he would have
begged leave of Allah to keep out of Paradise and stay here
to drink it for ever! But then, the Egyptians do not make
their river a nasty, dirty, town ditch. They worship it, and we
ought, I think, to have more respect for Old Father Thames
than to serve him the shabby tricks we do.

. “ Well, I was too early for this great festival of the Kalige, as
it is called, for it was spring. But I could see and admire the
beautiful lotus-flower, their waterlily, of a fine white and blue
colour. This, like the river on which it floats, and, I suppose,
because it floats there, was ever their Sacred Flower. Turning
round, I could see that the capitals of the columns in the
Temple behind me were shaped like it; and I perceived from
the sculptures and paintings, that its half-opened calyx was the
model for the Egyptian drinking-cup. They could scarcely
have a prettier model as to shape; and what sweeter contrast
of colour than white and blue? It is the very thing which so
delights us in the summer sky.

_ “The sycamore-tree, from which the ancient Egyptian made
12 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuapr. II.

his coffin, after making its fruit an article of diet during his
life, was not yet in leaf; but I perceived the quails were begin-
ning to flock in, in anticipation of the harvest. I saw crows,
about the size of sparrows, or a little bigger, picking up scorpions
and insects; swallows, and kingfishers, and wild ducks, just as
on the banks of an English river. Onions I saw in plenty, and
very nice the Egyptian onion is.”

“ Better than Spanish ?” inquired Amy.

“A great deal nicer, Amy, dear. Nobody can tell how
nice an Egyptian onion is, who has not tasted one. The proof
of the pudding is in the eating, you know. I saw, besides, figs,
olives, grape-vines, and aloes and other medicinal plants; and
also the henna, which does not flower till June or July. Hetty,
let me look at your fingers. ‘There, ladies and Bob, look at
Hetty’s finger-ends. What a pretty pinky-white colour under
the finger-nails! But those stupid Egyptians actually liked their
ladies to dye their finger-nails of a muddy orange colour with
a paste made of the pounded leaves of the henna. How different
from the Greeks, who abstained, like wise people, from teasing
and patching the human form divine, and imitated its beauty,
as God made it, in everlasting types of strength and loveli-
ness for succeeding ages! But there is a wonderful heaviness
and tenacity about the Egyptian mind, and the ladies use
henna now just as they did three thousand years ago.”

‘“* How do we know that they did three thousand years ago?”
asked Bob.

“Look at the nails of the mummies and you will see. But
I was wrong, perhaps, to call the Egyptians stupid. It was not
respectful, and it was not true.”

“ Never mind, Fred,” interposed Amy, with a kind smile,
“We know you meant no harm. [I have heard papa say, no
Cuap, IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 13

people are so silly as they who are always wise. We shall
like you all the better if you make a little slip now and then.
Still, [ know my papa likes to hear ancient peoples spoken of
with respect. ‘They were part, he says, of the grand chain, and
were often much wiser than we see at a glance. He says it
sounds very priggishly for little boys and girls to be prating about
the ‘stupidity,’ and ‘superstition,’ and ‘barbarism’ of the ages
which produced the men whom all mankind have agreed to love
and reverence.”

“ Just so, Amy,” said Fred, looking very pleased—‘“ I’m
glad we are so philosophic. Quite an Academus, I declare.
And the fact is, these Egyptians, with their shaven chins and
almond eyes—”

“JT remember Joseph shaved himself when he went to in-
terpret the King’s dreams,” said Hetty.

“True. These shorn and shaven Egyptians were not stupid,
after all. Their religion had a great many wise things in it,
and some of their customs were very wise. There was a certain
immobility—a repose—an aversion from change, in the national
character, which prevented what we call progress, at least during
the periods that are historically known to us. But scantily
supplied as they were with some metals, they must have had
immense command of mechanical resources, besides the mathe-
matical genius and indomitable patience which we know them to
have possessed, to have been able to accomplish all they did
in architecture and sculpture. One great advantage they had,
as far as leisure is concerned—they were not forced to be agri-
culturists in our sense of the word. There was no need of
‘high farming’ in Egypt. The Nile was cultivator and fer-
tiliser all in one. Cast the seed on the waters, and it was
found after many days. So they had plenty of time to build
14 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IT.

pyramids, to hew tombs in rocks, to erect temples, watch the
stars, cultivate mathematics, and cut other nations in pieces,
All these things they did not neglect ; especially they did not
neglect the last. But there is scarcely any art or invention of
modern times of which you cannot find traces in the remains
of ancient Egypt; in sculpture, in painting, or in hieroglyph.
The newest thing of this week which sets all the world staring,
if it had a tongue, might very likely say to us, ‘O, I’m not new
at all; Moses knew all about me—and Thoth, and Tsoph, and
Psammetichus.’ But we must not exaggerate upon this subject
either, All our modern conveniences and minor appliances of
comfort and well-being seem to have been common enough. But
in these days of transmarine telegraphs, steam printing-presses,
and photography, we must not forget that the germ of an idea
is a very different thing from the same idea expanded into flower
and developed into fruit. .A great many of the ideas which are
proper to modern civilization, and are indeed its pride and
strength, never could expand or develop in any uation of
antiquity, where unequal laws, caste regulations actual ori m-
plied, énd incessant warfare, checked private enterprise and the
growth of thought in individual minds. Even in our own day
the first promulgator of anew thing for the benefit of the race has
often to starve and die unrewarded, seeing, with his fast-closing
eye, some one else walk over his body to claim a prize far beyond
his wildest hopes or demands.”

“Freddy, dear, you are quite eloquent, I declare! Have
you any invention that you want to bring out, and can’t for
want of capital? You speak so feelingly.”

“« Never mind, Miss Amy !—I was saying that the religion
of the Egyptians had a great many wise things in it, and that
some of their customs were sensible and praiseworthy. For in-
Cuap, IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 15

stance, what a capital plan it was for keeping their rulers in
order, to ordain that no king should be buried in his own tomb,
unless his reign had been a praiseworthy one; that if he had
been wicked or tyrannical the priests and the people might
deny him ‘honourable sepulture!’ Only, practically, the deci-
sion of the question whether a monarch had been good and just
or not lay so much with the priests, that the institution was
open to all the influences of regal bribery; and a good many
kings found it much easier to lavish enormous sums of money
and enormous quantities of human labour upon the adorning of
the temples for the gratification and agegrandisement of the
pontifis than to be good men. Amy, Hetty, Bella, Bob, all
of you—you have seen Egyptian sculptures in the British
Museum—you remember the faces they give to the sphinxes?”

* T should like to see a live spinx!” cried Bella.

“Say sphinx, Bella, and you shall see one as soon as ever I
can catch it. Well, you remember the faces of the sphinxes
and of the statues you have seen. There is one, for instance,
of Thothmes III. in the British Museum, the Pharaoh who
refused to let the Israelites go—now, call to mind as many
Egyptian faces as you can, recollect the peculiar expression,
and tell me if you think it open, candid, simple?”

“ No, no!” said all the voices at once, “they all look as if
they had a secret.”

“ Yes—there is something close, mysterious, reserved, about
the Egyptian character, as about Egypt itself. And some of
the people were terrible liars. Occasionally, antiquaries are
thrown on the beam-ends of their wits, when tracing Egyptian
chronology, by the almost amusing circumstance that some
kings have been naughty enough to strike out the names of
their predecessors upon the tombs, and have their own inscribed
16 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. II.

instead! Very pretty conduct, was it not? It is like modern
adulterations. You read CorrEE on the outside of a tin
canister, and inside you find Curtcory. That’s the way in
Egypt. / You read Thoth outside a tomb—inside you find Tsoph,
or Ptha, or some one else. You seldom find a tendency to the
mysterious, in human character, without a tendency to false-
hood also. The Egyptian religion was full of mysteries, and it
is difficult to get at it. Osiris, for whom the Sun sometimes
stands, was Gop, the God of Gods, the good principle, the source
and dispenser of life, light, and grace, and the judge of all men
living and dead. ‘Typhon was his opponent, the Evil One,
darkness, cruelty, barrenness; his emblem was the serpent.
Horus, the son’ of Osiris, is often represented with the head
of a hawk, which was sacred to the Sun, and piercing through
a snake’s' crest. Athor was Chaos, or Venus. Isis, the Moon.
The four guardian angels of the dead are drawn with the heads
of a man, an ape, a jackall, and a hawk. Cats, dogs, hawks,
the ibis, the beetle, the onion, the leek, were honoured with
some sort of worship, as emblems of the planets. But we must
remember, with regard to all idols in every nation, and in every
form of religion or superstition, that the kind and degree of
worship paid to ‘them would vary perpetually, according to the
character of the worshippers. Some men would kneel to an
image as if it were verily in itself a god; others would feel, or
seem to feel, a real god behind the stone, wood, metal, or clay.”

“ Fred is quite a philosopher,” said Amy, in a whisper to
Bella. Bella, seeing Bob look very attentive and serious, said
to him, very softly, so that no one else could hear—‘ Never
mind, Bob, we’ll soon be as clever as he is, won’t we?” Bob
smiled, and pressed her hand. \

“T wonder,” continued Fred, ‘if Peter the Great had been
Cuar. IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 17

an Egyptian, how he would have managed about the beetles,—
which were objects of worship, and were worn as a sort of sacred
ornament or charm in rings and necklaces, and sculptured on
seals, cups, and goblets. And how would Napoleon have got over
the little difficulty of cat worship? He was as frightened of
poor puss as the redoubtable Peter was of the black little insect
that we can kill by the hundred upon our kitchen floors! At
dead of night, once upon a time, his guards, summoned by his
cries for help, rushed into the mighty conqueror’s chamber to find
him, bathed with cold perspiration, lunging with naked sword
at a poor little cat in the hangings of the room!”

“T am sure, after that,” said Amy, “ Napoleon, for one, could
have been no hero to his valet. It takes off the greatness of
some people to see them at home.”

“Talking of home,” resumed Fred,—“ turning round towards
the Temple near which I stood, I could not help thinking that
there is no nation of antiquity whose remains place us so much
at home with the inhabitants, as Egypt. Although the remains
are intensely national,—although, that is, they have a strong
character of their own, and are not like any other remains,—yet
that very intenseness of character makes haste to impress itself
upon the mind; and then we seem to know all about them.
This is partly because some of the secrets disclosed by the
excavations and discoveries of travellers show us that their
domestic ways were very much like our own,—more so than
those of Roman or Greek,—but also, it is greatly because we
cannot ramble long among the remains of ancient Egypt,
without finding traces of old friends, namely, the Jews; with
whom, in connection with Egypt, our Bibles have made us
familiar from our earliest days. Then, the religion, and the
emblems of the religion, and the temples, and the country, and
18 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cnap, IT,

the products of the country, seem to have a deep prevailing
unity about them. Ah, Bella and Bob do not quite see what I
mean by that! Well, I mean they seem all of a piece.

‘“‘ I turned round to enter the temple behind me, and all this
struck me very forcibly. First of all, I noticed that the three
principal colours used in painting the walls, the friezes, and the
columns, and the figures, were the three colours which most
strongly strike the eye in the Egyptian landscape—blue, the
colour of the sky, of the sacred river, and of the sacred flower ;
dark red, the colour of the earth ; and yellow, the colour of the
sand. Then, upon examining the paintings, I saw that the god
Osiris was ever painted blue, and that some pillars or emblems
of apparently a sacred character had blue rims round them ;
while mortals, even royal mortals, were painted of the red
earth colour. In the pillars I found the palm, the lotus, the
' papyrus, were the models. Osiris was the Sun or the beneficent
river. Typhon was the crocodile. Smaller gods were the
reptiles of the land. Everything was not only in Egypt,
but everything was Egyptian. Grecian architecture, Grecian
sculpture, the emblems of Greek faith, do not seem so exclu-
sively Grecian. A Doric colonnade would scarcely seem out of
place anywhere, and the Apollo, though he is Greek in the nose
and the eyes, is, after all, only a model man—good here, good
there, good everywhere. But I cannot conceive an Egyptian
colonnade harmonising with an English landscape, nor does a
sphinx look well flanking a modern doorway. How strongly
this struck me, as I walked up an avenue of lions into the
Temple!

“‘ Egyptian architecture is almost rudely simple, very massive
and solid, and, in keeping with all this, is huge, gigantic, over-
powering, in its proportions. Yet some of the columns before


Cuap, IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 19

me, which belonged to the Ptolemaic period of Egyptian his-
tory, were not without lightness and grace, and they were highly
ornamented. ‘The capitals of the columns were either like the
palm or the lotus ; and some of them showed the papyrus in dif-
ferent stages of its growth, from the bud to the flower in bloom.
All over the walls on the outside were representations, in co-
loured bas-reliefs, of a king making offerings to the gods, who,
in return, made grants of long life and stability of empire to
the worshippers. Above the columns, there was an inscription
which I was enabled to translate, though it was in hierogly-
phics; and it seemed to me that here was the old trick of
erasing one monarch’s name and substituting another. For
what do you think the inscription said? It said that, ‘ in the
seventeenth year of the reign of Victoria, the Ruler of the
Waves, this Temple (or Palace, I will not be sure which,
mind) was erected, and furnished with a thousand statues, a
thousand plants, &c., like as a book, for the use of the men of
all countries.’ It was very strange to meet the name of our
own Queen on an Egyptian Temple, and what was stranger
still, I heard, at this very moment, a band playing ‘ Rule, Bri-
tannia!’ All over this part of the Temple I found the names
of our Queen and Prince Albert, and of King Ptolemy, on the
lintels and on the sides. Now, the conjunction of Victoria ard
Ptolemy was, you will all confess, very peculiar indeed, and
perhaps you will not know what to make of it, though, after I
have told you I made the journey to Egypt in the very boots I
have on, you will have no right to be surprised at anything.

* Well! I went on and on in this Temple, looking about me ;
and the more I saw, the more I was sure I was in Egypt, and
the less I was able to make the thing out clearly to my own satis-
faction; for the Temple was very small, and yet it seemed a

fe
20 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Onar, IT,

mixture of every period and style and event in Egyptian history.
I admired the beautiful blue roof between the sunken pillars of
the quadrangle portico, all dotted and sprinkled with golden
stars. J saw a scene in which the sacking of a town was repre-
sented, with scaling ladders, bridges, ditches, towers, and all
complete, just as usual. I saw Sesostris the Great——”

“Ts that the Sesostris of whom the story is told about the
captive king and the chariot-wheel?” asked Hetty.

“O, I know that story,” cried Bob, anxious to contribute
something to the general store. “ Sesostris had his chariot
drawn by six kings. One of them always kept his eye fixed on
the revolutions of the chariot-wheel. Sesostris asked him what
he meant by that? ‘ Sire, replied the captive king, ¢ I cannot
look upon that wheel without being reminded of the changes of
human fortune. What was lately uppermost is soon debased—
the round which was, one moment, at the top, is, the next mo-
ment, at the bottom. So it is with subjects and kings in the
hands of the Immortal Gods!’ Sesostris was so touched with
this answer, that he gave the king his liberty. At least, so the
story goes.” .

“ And we will believe it, my Bobby,” answered Fred. “It is
always well, if we can, to believe anything kind and generous,
either of the present or the past. Let us always give the living,
and the dead too, the benefit of a doubt! I was saying that I
saw Sesostris the Great trampling on his enemies, stabbing an
Arab soldier in the ribs, and looking more comfortable over it
than I should be, if I had to stick a great thing like that into
a man’s side. I saw another scene, in which this same Sesostris
is clutching half-a-dozen poor fellows by the hair of their miser-
able heads, and shaking a dagger over them in a very savage
way, while twelve ambassadors, lower down, are begging hard
Cuap, IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. a1

for mercy, with ropes round their necks. I saw eight colossal
figures of Rameses the Great, supporting a side wall, and queer
fishes they looked, Bobby boy, with their red helmets and whips,
or flails (whieh I don’t know—nobody knows), in their hands,
which are crossed upon their chests. And don’t they look stupid,
‘ sweetly stupid,’ as Amy calls it——”

“ Yes, sweetly stupid; I mean when a man looks as if he
had sucked himself to sleep with a sugar-plum in his mouth.
Did these colossal kings look like that, Fred ?”

“ Exactly, Amy, you could not have hit it better. Every-
where almost, along cornices, and over doorways, I saw winged
suns painted red, with asps sticking out at the side.”

“ What did that mean?” inquired Bella.

“T think it meant Providence, though it is not very clear how
or why. But I made out that a zigzag line. ie

“ Crinkum-crankum ?” says Bob.
© Crinkum-crankum. A zigzag line means river-water, a
scroll like a wave means the sea, and a lozenge means a maze.
But what do you think of Egyptian perspective? It beats the
Roman hollow! They had no idea of foreground, and back~
eround, and vanishing points, and so on; so they made the
principal object, a king for instance, very large. To express
nearness, they put a figure on an object above; distance, below.
If one of the things painted came in the way of another, they
showed the more important of the two, without regard to the
reason and fact of the case. For instance, if a sword happened
to lie across a king’s nose, they would paint the nose and leave
out the sword.

“By and by I found myself in a tomb, which looked to me
very like one I had seen at Benee Hassan before; and how it
got there Gracious knew. What business had a tomb in a


22 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. II.

temple? Now I knew perfectly well that this tomb was cut
out of the solid rock about the year 1660 B.c., and that its fluted
columns furnished the model for Doric architecture ig

“‘ Which is Doric?” inquired Bob.

“The entrance of Euston-square station is Doric; and there
is a chapel portico in Stamford-street, Blackfriars-road, which
is one of the finest specimens of Doric architecture in England :
it was built by Rennie, and you ought all to see it, because it is
so fine. Well, what did a tomb do in a temple? 1 could not
tell, but there was one comfort about it. The last time I had
seen this tomb I knew that thieves used to sleep:in it of nights,
but they were all turned out now! When I came out of this
tomb, there was another surprise for me—I saw a colonnade from
Phile, and the Antinous of the ancient Egyptians, and a por-"
trait of Alexander the Great in basso-relievo, with his name
underneath written in Greek. And how do you suppose we
know the Egyptians did this bas-relief? Why, by the wrong
spelling of the name! What a trifling mistake will sometimes
decide a question of authorship! There is a beautiful poem on
blindness which claims to have been written by Milton; but the
use of the word recognise, which was not current in Milton’s
time, settles its modernness. But, above and beyond all other
things, I saw—to my great surprise, as I was not near Alex-
andria—the Rosetta stone. That was a stone indeed! As it
was in a corner here, it might be called a corner-stone ; but
I knew that to our countryman Dr. Young, and the great
Frenchman Champollion, it had been a hey-stone to unlock the
closed doors of the Egyptian hieroglyphics ; because, beside the
inscription which it bears in the popular and the sacred Egyptian
of the time, it has a repetition of it in Greek, which furnished
the clue that had been so eagerly sought for. The Rosetta


Cuap. IT. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 23

stone belongs to the Greco-Egyptian period, and its inscription ~
is an address from the priests to the then Greek king of Egypt,
Ptolemy the Fifth, praising him, of course, and recording the
fact that directions had been issued to set up the statue of the
king in"every temple, along with a copy of the address; so that
Ptolemy the Fifth was pretty well bespattered with praise.

“To tell you the truth, I began to feel a little bewildered in
this building with things I did not expect to find there. How
could the Temple of Aboo Simbel, which I knew was cut ina
rock in Nubia, be here? Or half the Temple of Karnak? But
here they were, beyond question. Fancying I must be in a
dream, I ran out into the open air to collect my wits. I found
it was getting very hot—stiflingly hot. I then recollected that
in the spring of the year the hot winds come up from the desert
and make. the country almost uninhabitable to Europeans.
Looking upwards, I perceived the sky was getting black, the
sun had turned of a misty sort of purple colour, the air was
not fit to breathe for clouds of sand, all the people began to
hurry indoors, and the very water looked as if it had been
boiled and were not yet cool. Yes, the Simoom was coming,
bringing with it the dust of the desert, which the people say is
so fine and so cunning that it will get inside an egg, through
the shell! If that were true, it would soon get inside my skin,
and I thought I had better leave Egypt as fast as I could. So,
without troubling the camels, though there were plenty about,
or the steamboats at Alexandria, I came home in my own
fashion, and here I am, safe and sound, to tell you the story of
my travels. I think you will agree with me that the funniest
part of all was, how I came to see so many things all-in one
spot, and none of the Egyptians caught sight of me. Do any
of you know ?”
24 THH SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Citar. IT,

“T do!” said Hetty.

“JT do!” said Amy.

“Then don’t tell at present,” answered Sindbad.

“T should like to go, too, and see it all,” said little Hind-
bad, not without some misty idea of the secret. ¥

“ Ah!” cried Sindbad, “you, Hindbad, would no¢ see it all,
if you were to go exactly where I did, and stand in the same
place. Come again to-morrow, and I will tell you all about my
next journey.”

‘Please, sir,—I mean, please Sindbad the Great,—may a
little girl ask a few questions?” said Amy, with a curtsy.

“Certainly,” replied Fred, assuming the air of a sage.
“Speak on, and do not fear!” How kind of him !

“You observed,” says Amy, “that the Sphinx was your par-
ticular friend, and that if we were impertinent it was your
intention to write to her complaining of our conduct. - Now, I
have always understood that, when Cidipus solved her enigma,
the Sphinx in a rage committed suicide, for good and all.
Now, if you write to her, do your letters go through the Dead
Letter-box ? and how does she read them ?”

‘“‘ Your question, Miss Amy, is a very proper one,” said
Fred, stroking his chin, and making a general observation,
to gain time, after the most approved fashion of orators who do
not see their way. “But I think,” said he, “TI can solve your
doubts by telling you

Tue SuppRESsED History oF MEMNON AND THE SPHINX,

“Tt is not generally known that there was an intimacy of
the most affectionate kind between Memnon and the Sphinx.
Both of them, the Sphinx in particular, have been celebrated
Guar. IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 25

for an immovable passivity of look which has led common
observers to imagine they had no hearts. But they had: there
are romances in stones as well as sermons in stones; and the
friendship of this ancient pair was very romantic indeed. It
is well known that, as soon as the slant beam of the morning
Sun smote the forehead of Memnon, he found a tongue, and
made earth and sky vocal with his hymn of praise and gratula-
tion. In the absence of the light-god the grand old fellow kept
a mournful silence. But he yearned for sympathy. It was not
enough that he could make sweet melody to the Sun ; he wanted
it echoed back in those soft, unstartling tones which so delight
the heart which longs for affectionate converse: it is so with
us all—when praise falls dead and our hearts sink inwards, we
sometimes want ourselves rendered back to us in gracefuller
lines, in tenderer lights, in softer touches of ‘linked’ melody.
So Memnon, in the sunless midnight hours, kept wakeful silence,
eating out his sublime old heart for sickness and sadness. And
the deep, deep, blue sky looked calmly on, and did not pene-
trate his thought; and the cold stars, as large to the eye in
that pure atmosphere as the largest jewel you ever saw, were
too much occupied with their own music to concern themselves
with the sorrows of anything terrestrial. But the Moon, with
her clear vestal eye and tender woman’s heart, at last divined
the grief of Memnon; and when next she met the Sun on the
green rim of the tumbling sea, said, ‘O Sun, Memnon is un-
happy! ‘Have I not taught him to sing when I look upon
him? what more doth he ask? replied the Sun, casting his
golden eye full upon the timid Moon with a glance of scrutiny.
Then she answered, ‘Seek, O Sun, of thine own heart what
would be the prayer of Memnon could he speak as well as
sing. How didst thou not yearn for a friend, for another
C
26 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IT,

self, till I, thy Moon, was sent up the slope of the skies to give
thee back a part of thy light! Memnon wants a double, a
friend, to yield him his music again. All life seeks—doth it
not ?—to repeat itself. Let thy own soul answer, O beautiful
day-god, quickener of all things, light of the world, as thou
art!’ Then said the Sun, ‘My Moon, what wouldst thou?
Who shall be friend to this Memnon, and repeat his music to
him, as thou my light unto me; that so his countenance may
shine when I am far off, and his heart be glad in the darkness ?’
Now, the Moon had often looked upon the Sphinx with wonder
at her many cruelties, and had divined very low down in her
heart a little seed of goodness which might flower into com-
passion if it could be reached and lured into the warmth of day.
And the Moon said, ‘Grant me, O great Osiris (for so was
the Sun named by the Immortals), that I may have what power
I will over the cruel Sphinx, for Memnon’s sake.’ And the
Sun answered and said, ‘ My Isis, be it unto thee even as
thou hast spoken.’ Then the Moon was very glad, and went
upon her way among the stars with a more shining face, for
very joy.

“Now the Sphinx, pitilessly devouring, day by day, those
who came to answer her enigma and could not, had yet felt
some uneasy gropings of love and pity at the bottom of her
hard, blind heart, when the strain of Memnon had smitten her
ears in the fresh, sweet morning; and she had said, in her
inmost soul, ‘O that I might breathe out my life in music too
—perhaps I should not be so cruel, and I am sure I should be
a happier Sphinx! And this the cunning Moon knew by her
woman’s instinct. And so, one warm, slumberous night, when
she was riding high in the purple mid-heaven, upon a silver-
white cloud, she looked down upon Memnon, and saw that his
Cuap, IT, THE FIRST JOURNEY. 27

soul was straying in the borderland of Sleep, led by a Dream,
who held him by the hand and seemed to be trying to repeat
to him his morning lay ; upon the Sphinx, and beheld her broad
awake, with her mysterious wide-open eyes questioning time
and space for something which came not. And the Moon
paused for a moment as she passed over, and prayed, ‘ Now,
now, Osiris, grant my will!’ And, at the same moment, she
shed a flood of her soft luminous breath full on the forehead of
the Sphinx, saying ‘Sine!’ and so urged her white chariot
down the steep of the sky.

“Then the long pent-up yearnings in the breast of the
Sphinx found speech in music, and the far-stretching desert
heard, and the rippling Nile took up the burthen, till the
lotus-flower trembled on the bank. And Memnon dropped the
hand of his dream-guide, and lifted up his soul from the
shadowy valley of Sleep, and listened in a warm rapture of joy
to his own morning-song to Osiris restored unto him in tenderest
echoes ; and he knew it was the voice of the Sphinx and was
glad. But after awhile he slumbered sweetly, and when he
said to the next sunrise ‘Lo, I am here!’ Egypt wondered
at the voice of Memnon, and asked from what deeper wellspring
of melody this song,—the same yet not the same, the ancient
tune with a golden thread of conscious life inwoven,—had arisen.
Only the listening Sphinx wondered not, and Memnon knew
that she would hear. And every night, when the moon kissed
her forehead, she sang back to him his song of the morning,
and he loved her, and there was a better life for them both.
But still the Sphinx was cruel, only she hated herself, and, save
for thoughts of Memnon, wished that she might die, and so be
cruel.no more for ever.

** Now it befell that one night the moon was eclipsed, and the

. c2
28 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cua. IT.

waiting Sphinx did not feel the luminous touch on her forehead
at the hour of the rising of Isis upon the sky, and Memnon
listened in vain for the beloved echo, And when the shadow
had passed away from the face of Isis, and she breathed upon
the brow of the Sphinx, no voice answered ; for the Sphinx had
said within herself, ‘I am forgotten and despised; I shall
never sing again to Memnon; I will gather to me again the
darkness that once enfolded my heart, and go my way on the
morrow whither even Isis shall not find me with her brightness
should she seek me out. But I must hear once again the voice
of Memnon, for it is sweet, and then I will slay myself, because
life is sadder than I can bear!’ Now the Sphinx did not
know, until this night, the secret of her own thought, how she
loved the voice of Memnon, and what a contention in her bosom
was born of her love; and, once failing to find her nightly
tongue for his ear, she had not the patience now to wait until her
love should have had time to grow, and clear her nature of all
its darkness and cruelty, but, mistrusting Isis, resolved to die
and away for ever. Only the knowledge how dear was her
even-song to Memnon might have changed her purpose; but
that she did not wholly know; being still partially blind and
wicked of heart.

“ And when the morning came, and Osiris touched the lips of
Memnon with the glory which should part them in music,
Egypt stood mazed and doubting, for Memnon sang not. To
have sung on for ever in uncompanioned solitude was possible
if so Osiris had willed; but not even Osiris was stronger than
Love; and now the interrupted new life turned to death and
silence; and only one who stood very nigh heard a low com-
plaining from the lips, as if it were the last moan of one dying
in pain—and Memnen sang to the sunrise no more,
Cuap, II. THE FIRST JOURNEY. 29

“Then the Sphinx was more than ever resolute to die, when
she did not hear the voice she had learned to love ; and so, when
(idipus passed by and solved her enigma, she slew herself—
and she sang to the moonrise never again.

“ But neither Memnon nor the Sphinx knew that in loving they
had taken up the breath of an immortal life, and could not pass
into nothingness. But it was so. And Osiris took Memnon,
and Isis took the Sphinx, and they bore them down the slope
of the sky, and deep, deep, deep into the sea, beyond the
mountains which frown upon the utmost Mediterranean, and
deeper, deeper still; until they reposed in the land of the
submerged Atlantis, which with all its nobleness of life and
glory was sucked down by the cruel ocean thousands of years
before, and preserved in the .lowest sanctuary of silence by the
Eldest Gods, who had loved the Atlanteans. There in halls
fathoms below the furrow of the keel on the upper sea, and still
as death in their deserted beauty,—there, Memnon and the
Sphinx encountered now, to learn that friendship had bestowed
on both a life which could not die, and could only be lived in
one current for ever and ever. And there they remain to this
day, practising the old songs, except when they sing a duetto,
or employ themselves for the good of mankind.”

“or the good of mankind ! In what possible way ?” inquired
Hetty.

“Thus, dear,” replied Fred. “The Sphinx, deeply regretting
her former carnivorous propensities, which, indeed, she is not
yet quite able to shake off, determined in her Atlantean retire-
ment with her friend Memnon to turn her immortal leisure to
philanthropic account; and did so by rearing the oceanic
plateau which underlies the Atlantic from Ireland to New-
foundland, “intending by degrees to re-elevate the Atlantean

c 3


80 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD., Cuape. II,

continent, peninsula, or island. When, however, the soundings
were being taken for the Transatlantic telegraph, she changed
her views, and informed me she intended to further the telegraph
by every means in her power. But do not imagine she is quite
reclaimed from her cruelty: it takes a long time for a Sphinx
to get soft, even under water. Once a year she reappears to
men in the shape of the Sea Serpent, and goes prowling about
the upper deep in search of prey, which she secures by wrecking
some ship, if all other means fail her; and as she can assume
that form whenever she pleases, she might be a formidable
enemy of any noisy little girl of whom I might complain to her
by means of ——”

“ By means of what, Mr. Fred?” says Amy.

“I shall explain no further,” answered Fred, “until the
close of my narration to Hindbad. So, as I said before, come
again to-morrow, and hear, if you choose, the history of my
next journey in Wonderland. For to-day, this meeting is
adjourned.”

So Bella and Bob walked away wondering, and Amy and
Hetty discussing Sindbad’s elaborate defiance of Gliddon and
Gardner Wilkinson in this truly absurd Sphinx story, which he
had so quaintly linked with sea-serpents and electricity.
Cuar. III, SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. bl

CHAPTER III.

SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY.

“J THINK,” began Sindbad, addressing the same audience as
before, on this, the second, occasion, “I think the adventures I
have to relate to you this time are not a whit less wonderful
than those I told you of yesterday, and I am sure they will
convince Hindbad that I have had to go through a good deal
in my little time. My journey to Egypt, instead of inspiring
me with any desire to stay at home and rest, had quite a con-
trary effect. Neither crocodiles, nor inundations, nor Simooms,
nor Samiels, nor fatigues of any kind, had abated my courage,
and my thirst for information. As GREECE came next in his-
torical sequence, as it was the nation which took up the thread
of human progress from Egypt, the hand, as it were, to which
Egypt passed the lighted torch, I felt a desire to make my next
journey a journey to Greece. One morning, I put in my pocket
again the talisman for which papa had paid, but I pursued a
course different in other respects from that which I had adopted
in making my Egyptian trip, and proceeded to the Bridge of
London, commonly called London-Bridge. When there, my
attention was attracted to a curious creature with a long body,
which was making strange snorting, whistling noises, and dis-
playing various symptoms of restlessness, besides blowing its
breath out of its mouth and nostrils in great steamy clouds.
It seemed to have an enormous number of fins of an oblong
shape somewhat resembling wooden doors, which were flapping
backwards ang forwards, and which opened to cavities in the
32 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, III.

creature’s interior. As I observed several of the cavities
filled with human beings, I concluded that there was no danger
to be apprehended from this strange, long, noisy creature’s
puffing and snorting, and I myself entered one of the cavities.
I found it very comfortable. The animal’s ribs were well
wadded and padded, and I felt quite easy in his interior apart-
ments. I could not help reflecting that this was a very com-
fortable sort of roc, much pleasanter than the one which carried
Sindbad the sailor about ; and my good opinion of the animal
was confirmed, when, after half-an-hour or so, he, she, or it—
for I could not determine its sex—made a pause, and dislodged
his fellow-travellers at the foot of a double staircase, ascending
which, and reproducing papa’s magic talisman, I speedily found
myself at the goal of my wishes—in fact, in Greece.

“ It was midnight ——”

“* Midnight, Fred? Would pa let you be out?” cries
Bella.

“ Midnight in Greece, Bella, dear—dark midnight. Nothing
could be sweeter or softer than the atmosphere which I now
breathed, and I could well understand how the people who were
born in it, and breathed it always, should find life itself an enjoy-
ment, should fling their happy limbs naturally into postures the
most graceful and alluring for the sculptor, should invent the
loveliest architecture the world has seen, and turn the commonest
events of every-day life into occasions of enjoyment. I was on the
sea-shore. ‘The waves were lap-lap-lapping softly against the
beach, oh! sosoftly. There was a little moonlight, and the sky
overhead was of the deepest, intensest blue. On a distant hill,
‘heaven-kissing,’ as Shakspeare says, I saw Mercury step down ;
in a grove, a little inland, I caught a glimpse of Diana creeping
softly up to Endymion, and tapping him on the curls; and I
r SSS SSeS

Ne
Lj
a
qo
5
Hi
t
Ly
fe
LI
6



THE GRECIAN COURT.—P, 32.


Cuar. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY, 33

fancied—perhaps I was excited and mistaken—that Socrates or
his ghost passed lightly by me with a drained, inverted cup of
hemlock-juice in his hands, from which a few lingering green drops
fell upon the ground and turned to laurels. All over the shore
were blazing night-fires, round which were groups of Albanians,
who, having done their evening feast, were now drinking the
red wine gaily and fast, talking, laughing, singing, and making
a very pretty romantic picture indeed. Then they all got up
together, and, with long black hair that streamed down to
their waists, kirtles reaching to their knees, and eyes and faces
gleaming in the red fire-light, they sang together a song of
which here are a few verses :—

I.

¢Tambourgi, Tambourgi! thy ’larum afar
Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war ;
All the sons of the mountain arise at the note,
Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote!

II.

£Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote,
In his snowy camese and his shaggy capote ?
To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock,
And descends to the plain, like the stream from the rock.

II.

© Macedonia sends forth her invincible race ;
For a time they abandon the cave and the chase;
But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before
The sabre is sheath’d and the battle is o’er.

IV.

s Théff the pirates of Parga, that dwell by the waves,
And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves,
Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar,
And track to his covert the captive on shore,
34 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IIT.

Vv.

‘ Selictar! unsheath then our chief’s scimitar—
Tambourgi! thy ’larum gives promise of war—
Ye mountains, that see us descend to the shore,
Shall view us as victors, or view us no more!’ *

”



“ Ah!” exclaimed Hetty, “ I know something

“ Then, keep it to yourself, Miss,” said Fred, hastily inter-
rupting her; “ and let me go on quietly. We don’t want to
know what you know. You came here all of you to hear what
I know, and I'll trouble you not to interfere.”

Of course Fred was only joking. He was not really angry
when he said all this, but he did not want to have his travels
interrupted and his story spoiled for him. So he went on.

“This, then, I said to myself, is Greece; and, closing my
eyes, as I leaned against a crag, I repeated to myself Byron’s
lines—

‘ Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild ;
Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields ;
Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled,

And still his honeyed wealth Hymettus yields ;
There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,
The free-born wanderer of thy mountain air;
Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,

Still in his beam Mendeli’s marbles glare :
Art, Glory, Freedom, fail, but Nature still is fair.

‘ Where’er we tread, ’tis haunted, holy ground;
No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould;
But one vast realm of wonder spreads around,
And all the Muse’s tales seem truly told,
Till the sense aches with gazing to behold
The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon:
Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold,
Defies the power which crushed thy temples gone ;—
Age shakes Athena’s tower, but spares gray Marathon.
Cuap, III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 85

* The sun, the soil, but not the slave, the same;
Unchanged in all except its foreign lord—
Preserves alike its bounds and boundless fame,

. The battlefield where Persia’s victim horde
First bowed beneath the brunt of Hellas’ sword,
As on the morn to distant Glory dear,

When Marathon became a magic word,
Which uttered, to the hearer’s eye appear
The camp, the host, the fight, the conquerov’s career ;

‘ The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow ;

The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear ;
Mountains above—Earth’s, Ocean’s, plain below,
Death in the front, Destruction in the rear !—
Such was the scene—what now remaineth here ?
What sacred trophy marks the hallowed ground,
Recording Freedom’s smile and Asia’s tear >—
The rifled urn, the violated mound,

The dust thy courser’s hoof, rude stranger! spurns around,’ ”

As Fred recited very well, Hetty, and Amy, and Bella, and
Bob, all enjoyed these fine lines of Byron exceedingly. Tred
proceeded :—

_ Curiously enough, when I opened my eyes after repeating
these verses to myself,—it must really have been owing to some
power more magical even than that of papa’s talisman f

‘I know what the power was!” said Amy, in a whisper, to
herself, and with a pleased intelligent smile. Fred did not
pause, except to put his finger on his lip, with a smile that
replied to hers.

“When I opened my eyes, by some magical power or other,
I found myself in a street in ancient Athens. It was quite
dark, and, I am sorry to say, to the discredit of the Greeks, the
street was very dirty. There were no lamps at all, and no
well-construtted gutters to drain the streets, into which all the


36 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuaap. IIT.

refuse of the kitchens seemed to have been thrown. Still, as the
Greeks were not such gross feeders as we are, there was nothing
as offensive as what you might find in a low neighbourhood
in our own highly-civilised London. I met one or two Athenians
who were out on some late errand, but, as they did not notice
me at all, I felt convinced that the same power, whatever it
was, which had landed me so suddenly in ancient Athens, had
made me invisible to the people. This was comfortable, for I
could thus go about and see everybody and everything, without
being quizzed in my turn. I found a house quite open to the
street, and determined to enter and explore it, with a view of
finding a sleeping apartment of some kind, where I might pass
the night. The front of the house was ornamented with stucco,
but I noticed that the owner had taken care to avoid any such
ornaments as were customary in the temples of the gods, which
would have been considered irreligious. The doorway was
rather handsome ; the root was flat; there was only one story.
Some of the houses in Athens, however, had two stories.
Going noiselessly about, I observed that each set of rooms was
built in the shape of a square, with an open paved court in the
middle, and that in one or two cases there was a fountain in the
centre. Along the sides of every court there were colonnades to
walk under, and from these colonnades you saw the entrances
into the different rooms. From the street-door you went into
a large hall, and from that you stepped into the square or
court, around which were the apartments of the men ; for the
most important division of a house in Greece was into the men’s
division and the women’s division. In this house, there being
only one story, the women’s court or quadrangle was at the
back, the men’s in front. In the men’s quadrangle I saw the
dining-room, drawing-room, and other rooms, where the gentle-
Cuap. IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY, 37

men met their friends and transacted their business. In the
women’s quadrangle were what we should call the living-rooms,
where the family dwelt every day, besides kitchens, store-
rooms, bedrooms, and halls or shops for spinning and weaving,
in which the lady of the house and her maids were accustomed
to busy themselves when not otherwise employed. I noticed
that the fireplaces were open, and that the household gods were
in a niche by the side of the hearth. On one side of the
chimney was hung up the armour of the master of the house.

“I was struck with the essential similarity, as to all the
minor appliances of life, between the articles of comfort and
convenience in use at Athens and those in use in modern times
in our own houses. I remembered, in the Book of Kings, the
house built upon the wall for the man of God, and the table,
and the stool, and the candlestick put there for him by the
Shunammite woman; and I thought how natural and homelike
everything seemed in Greece. At meal-times I perceived the
people sat upon sofas and couches, or rather, reclined upon
them. In an unoccupied room, near the garden, which lay
behind the women’s quadrangle, I found an empty bed, on
which was a wool mattress. Here I resolved to pass the night,
and, drawing over me a coverlet of the skin of some Asiatic
animal, I lay down, and soon fell asleep.

“Tn the course of the night I believe I dreamt—a good long
dream too, and I will tell it you. I was, or else I fancied I
was, in a building, which so far resembled the Temple I had
seen in Egypt that it was an incongruous collection of all
sorts of memorials of ancient Greece, both in architecture and
sculpture, without regard to continuity of date or of historical
association. gi

‘J saw before me a Temple of the later period of that

D
38 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. ITI.

Doric order, which, derived from Egypt, preceded all the other
Grecian orders in the line of architectural development. It
seemed to me to be a portion of the Temple of Jupiter at
Nemea, erected about four hundred years before Christ was
born in Bethlehem of Judea. This date was not too late for
the highest qualities of Grecian art, and certainly the columns
now before me, surmounted by a frieze on which were inscribed
the names of the principal Grecian cities and colonies, con-
trasted very favourably, in point of lightness and beauty, with
anything I had seen in Egypt (even with the pillars at Beni
Hassan). Nothing could well be more graceful, and yet they
were very strong, and looked equal to their work; for you
must always note that a good artist harmonises his labour ; he
does not sacrifice use to ornament, or vice versa, but combines
the two in a perfect and beautiful whole. Indeed, what is
characteristic in all architecture will be found connected with
its uses, climate and associations considered. Thus, the over-
lapping cornice of Egyptian and Oriental architecture was the
natural growth of climates where a hot, vertical sun made shelter
and shade very necessary features ; and the sloping gable roof
of the Goth was eminently adapted to stave off the snow and
rain,

“Entering the Temple of Jupiter at Nemea, I was still more
strongly impressed. with the mixed character of the place where
I stood, when I found myself in a public agora or market-place.
All around me were the names of the best, the wisest, the most
glorious men of Greece, written in the form of the Greck letter
which was current at the time when they lived. This list
extended from the earliest ages to the latest, beginning with
blind old Homer, and ending with Anthemius who ’ built
St. Sophia es




Omar. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 39

“ At Constantinople!” cries Bob, clapping his hands.

“ At Constantinople—you are right. I felt a little puzzled
with the blue, red, and yellow colouring all round me, for
I was not prepared to expect it in Greece; but as so many
things seemed all topsy-turvy, it was not worth my while to
spend too much thought about one in particular. Indeed my
surprise was not to end here. ‘The whole world of Grecian art
seemed represented here, within the compass of a few feet. All
at once I was thrilled with the Laocoon, pleased with the
Farnese Juno, and solemnised by the Genius of Death. There
was the Discobolus from which I had been taught to draw, and
which I knew belonged to the Vatican. There was the Vatican
Ariadne. There was the Sleeping Faun. There was the
beautiful Venus of Milo. Well, I didn’t know what to make of
it. I stepped into a side court, answering, in the real Agora, to
the Stoa,- and what should I catch a glimpse of, but the very
Temple in Egypt which I had seen a little time before!
Curious enough. But it gave me a chance of comparing the
dummyish-looking colossi and clumsy three-cornered seeming
paintings of the Egyptians with the beautiful columns and
cornices of the Greek ; and I fell into a muse, with which I will
not now trouble you, about the enormous differences in the
genius of different nations. I will only say that it seemed to
me as if the excessive influence of the priests had had a great
deal to do with debasing Egyptian art. Strictly speaking, there
was never a priestly order or caste among the ancient Greeks,
though there were men devoted to the service of the temples.
I wish you to notice this, because it is a peculiarity of our own
religion that Chritians are all ‘ priests unto God.’

“ Passing into a covered atrium, I noticed the broad, handsome
ante (or square pillars), and the panelled ceiling, which latter

D2
40 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. IIT.

seemed to me to have come from the Temple of Apollo at
Basse. Looking out at the back, I saw what seemed to me
the Parthenon itself under a diminishing glass—but, getting
closer, I found it was only a model of the western front. Then,
all above it, and for a distance on both sides of it, was—
wonderful to relate!—the frieze of the building, in a separate
state, only coloured in the same questionable way. Close by me
were the Niobe and the Medicean Venus from Florence, and
the immortal Psyche from Naples. Much more there was here,
more than I can tell you now; but I was not surprised at the
number of beautiful works of art before me, because I knew that
in one of his campaigns the King of Macedonia destroyed
2000 statues, and yet that, when Rome had done her work of
pillaging and carrying away, the city was said to contain more
statues than inhabitants!”

“*T don’t believe it,” cried Hetty, tossing her curls in the air.

“Never mind, Miss Hetty—the mere fact that such a thing
was said shows how prolific Greek art was. Even exaggera-
tions mean something, dear girl. There is never smoke but
there is fire, don’t you know? However, what really surprised
me was the heterogeneous mixture of architecture and sculpture
in the place where I was. I had a sort of vague consciousness,
as you know we often have in dreams, of the fact that I had
gone to bed and to sleep in a house in Athens——”

“Pretty fact!” said Amy, in a sly whisper to Hetty.

“Leave him alone,” replied Hetty; “he’ll make it all out
somehow—he ’s so clever.”

“Gone to bed in a house at Athens; and how had I got
here? and how had all these things got hese? While I was
wondering and wondering, with my eyes fixed on the Parthenon
frieze, a curious change came over one of the horses and its
Cuap. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 41

rider. ‘The horse seemed to swell and swell to life-size, to
dilate its nostrils, and shake its stony mane, and lift its proud
prancing feet, and neigh in the blithe air, and long to step out.
It was not like one of our horses. It had a thick neck and short
legs. It was just like a colt, and not like an Arab racer in
figure. But the stone rider underwent a change as well as the
stone horse. It appeared to me, now, to be Apollo himself,
much as in the Belvedere statue; only with his bow swung over
his shoulder, a cloud of glory round his face and forehead, and
a less scornful smile on his face. He was, certainly, a very
beautiful fellow, and I don’t mind telling you I wished I might
be only half as handsome as this god. In a few instants he
opened his divine lips, and spoke in, oh! such a celestial voice,
but, to my surprise, in broad mother-tongue English.

“¢Wo! wo! Dobbin! wo!’ cried the god, reining in his
horse ; ‘don’t you perceive, Dobbin, I want to speak to this
gentleman?’ After this polite expostulation, accompanied by a
little divine patting on the back, Dobbin did as he was bid, and
wo'd. I began to tremble a little, for the great Mr. Apollo,
who, I knew, served the Python out so savagely, and played the
harp like Chatterton or like Amy, seemed as if he were coming
down from the Parthenon frieze to speak to me! Could I have
got into his bad books by being in this place? Was this his
private lumber-room or studio? Were these objects which I
had seen the real things, or models of the real things, or only
original patterns which Apollo had made, as inspirer and patron
of Greek art? I had no time to decide, for the good-looking
god came up to me, and touching his golden forelock, not like a
clown, but like a god, and shaking down the ambrosial odour
from his sweet white brow as he did so, said, in a very
gentlemanly tone of voice—
42 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, ITI.

“ ¢Good morning, Mr. Bull.’

“ ¢Good morning, sir,’ said I, shaking in my shoes—‘T hope
I’m not intruding into your—your—your—studio ?’

“ ¢Studio—studio? O dear, no! This is only one of my
lumber-rooms, not my studio. Glad to see you here, Mr. Bull.
What’s your pleasure? What do you want?’

“ ¢ Information about Greece, if you please, sir,’ said I, re-
assured. by his kind, cosy, comfortable manners.

“¢Ah, you’ve come to the right shop, Mr. Bull,’ said
Apollo, with a twinkle in his deep-blue eye. ‘ Of course, I
know all about it, being connected with the concern. What
might you want to know in particular ?’

“ ¢ Well, I replied, ‘a doubt struck me, I must confess,
about the colouring of the friezes here, and especially of the
frieze of the Parthenon itself over there.’

“To be sure—I dare say—quite right, Mr. Bull. I admire
your sagacity. We did colour our public buildings and statues
in the olden days, but not like that. It is Mr. Owen Jones's
doing. He is a very clever fellow—very—and so I allow him
to take liberties in this little lumber-room of mine. But he has,
I may tell you in confidence, overshot his mark in his manner
of applying colour to the productions of Greek Art. However,
we will not say too much about it. The attempt was praise-
worthy, and you mortals get at truth by little and little,
always.’

“ T now ventured to make an observation myself. ‘ Rome,’
said I, ‘was not built in a day.’ It was an unlucky slip of the
tongue. The brow of the god lowered a little, and I saw an
angry twitch at the angles of his mouth. ‘Mr. Bull,’ he began
again, ‘ Athens was my studio, and those confounded Romans,
hardheaded and ironhanded, played Meg’s diversion with Art.
Cuar. ITI. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 43

I wish—’ But here Apollo drew his hand across his face, and,
dropping a tear, dropped the subject also.

“* Well, well!’ he began again—‘ we were talking of the
slowness of you mortals to learn. Look at the columns of the
Parthenon there ; do you see anything particular ?’

“«T see great lightness and beauty, exquisite grace, and yet
no lack of strength in the appearance of the columns.’

“¢ Ah, yes! but you observe, I dare say, an almost aérial effect
in the spring or elevation, do you not?—Look again. Now
you see it plainly. Have you heard that it has lately, only
lately, been found out that those beautiful columns—oh, they ’re
lovely! (what an excitable person Apollo is! thought 1)—are
curved? I dare say not. Very few people in your streets,
Mr. Bull, know that. Architects and artists know it, but it
has taken them century upon century to find it out, which is
what I was saying.’

‘¢¢T should never have noticed such a trifle,’ said I.

“ «'Trifle!’ exclaimed Apollo, with a scorching frown, ‘don’t
talk of trifles in Art! You would see nothing particular about
the right arm and hand of the Laocoon if it were perfect ; but
let me tell you Michael Angelo did not dare to attempt the
restoration. It takes eyes to see with. Now, look at that
statue, there, of myself. Observe the left arm, and compare it
with mine. You see it isa libel on my form. Look again at
the right arm and foot—they are worse still—they have been
mended, and ill mended too. Look at my knees, Mr. Bull!
Do they turnin? No! But the knees of my statue there do.
Turn to the Laocoon—the left leg is the biggest, though you do
not perceive it. Be sure, however, that in Art nothing is a
trifle. In Greece, my people—I mean, the sculptors whom I
patronised by vouchsafing to them a more liberal inspiration
44 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuar. LIT

than usual—took infinite pains. The backs and corners of
statues, and the least observed portions of public buildings, were
all finished off by the chisel with as much delicate accuracy as
if they had been designed for the most public exposure. O
Mr. Bull, Mr. Bull, I wish you modern Britons had a little more
of this spirit in your Art!’

“¢Thave often wondered,’ I replied humbly, ‘ how it was the
Greeks were so much superior to us moderns in the devotional
and painstaking spirit of their Art.’

*** Well, for one thing, a Greek always had the human form
before him ; under his nose, as you would say. We did not
drape to the excess of you Goths and Barbarians. The type of
beauty being always in sight, at the bath-room, in the gymnasia,
and even in the home and the street, any variation from it
would be unlikely to escape notice. The human form was
universally loved for its own sake, as it will always be where it
is healthily trained and not unduly covered up; and it was an
artist’s glory to produce the most perfect imitation. Then, think
of the fine climate, the sweet bounding air ; and again, of my
inspiring breath—I mean the genius of the people, as you would
call it. My Greeks were born artists. They were a nation of
ideal imitators. It is no more to be wondered at than that the
Romans (I hated ’em) were a nation of fighters, born under
Mars. Then, Art was closely connected with the religion of
the ancient Greeks. I am afraid, Mr. Bull, they were rather
materialistic in their religious tastes, the Greeks. I mean, they
dealt with their gods through temples and statues and visible
things, while you confine your worship to your hearts and private
feelings

“* And our conduct,’ I suggested, bowing to the god. ‘We
are Christians,’


Cuar, IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 45

« ¢T stand corrected,’ said Apollo, ‘I will not quarrel with
you about your chapels and churches, to which you never carry
votive offerings to hang on the walls and lay on the shrines, as
my Greeks used to do. I dare say you have your own proper
ways, and that the world improves as it gets older.’

“ Here something dropped out of a side-pocket in the scarf of
the god, and I stooped to pick it up for him: it was an oyster-
shell !

“¢Thank you,’ said he, with a sad smile—‘ that is one of
the shells that were dropped into the urn when Aristides was
banished by ostracism. I always carry it about with me, be-
cause I used to like the fellow, though he was so sturdy and
inelegant in his notions. Ah! that takes me back to old
times !”

«“ please to take me with you “ back to old times,” as you say. I
should so like to know all about them.’

«“¢Well,’ replied Apollo, very good-naturedly, ‘I don’t
mind. Just wait till I have tied Dobbin to one of the pillars
over there —good Dobbin! Wo! wo! There! By-the-by,
Mr. Bull, what a funny coat that is of yours—I can’t help
laughing at it,’ said Apollo, leaning on his bow.

“Ts it?’ I replied, a little abashed. ‘It is the celebratea
Milton wrapper, and is very much advertised and admired
now o’ days.’

“Ah, I knew Milton; he was a fine fellow; but he never
wore a wrapper like that, I can tell you. I’d have cut him
dead for it. Look at me. This, over my shoulders, is the
chlamys——’

“¢ Very graceful indeed,’ said I, perceiving that he prided
himself upon his personal appearance.

D3
46 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, III.

“Well, I think it looks nice. But the ordinary Grecian
dress for men and women was double. Being a god, I do as I
like; and besides, 1’ve been out shooting—to-day is the anni-
versary of my killing the Python. Men and women used to
wear an under-dress called the chiton, and an over-dress called
the Aimation. ‘The chiton was loose, made of either linen or
woollen, and had sleeves or holes for the arms. Men wore it
as long as to the knee; women lower. The himation was
something like a Scotch plaid—-—’ |

“‘< In pattern?’ I asked.

‘¢¢ No, sir,’ said he, with a smile, ‘but in size and shape ;
and it was worn in a similar way. The women’s chiton was
fastened round the waist by a girdle, and often made very
pretty. The chlamys, such as I have on now, was the usual
riding-dress, and also the dress of little boys. I am not a little
boy, but the Greeks often sculptured me as one—look at that
beautiful Apollino there, for an example. Well, my fellows
used to wear two or three sorts of caps—a scull-cap and a wide-
awake, made of felt, for instance—but not always; they liked
to go about with uncovered head. Women used to wear caps
and turbans. ‘The hair was grown very long, and not many
people shaved. When a boy got to be eighteen years old, they
cut his hair short, and offered it in a sacrifice to the gods; after
which he wore it short for two years, during which he was
called -——’

« ¢ An ephebus,’ I interrupted. :

«¢ Ah, you know, Mr. Bull, I see! An ephebus; and he
wore the wide-awake and the chlamys. As for the feet, some-
times my people wore boots, but oftener sandals only; and in-
doors they wore nothing at all. They did not use any polish—
only a sponge to wipe the shoe or sandal clean. Perhaps you
Cuap. ITI. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. AT

would like to know something of their eating and drinking
ways? Yes? Well, they were not what country people call
“‘ sormandizers.” Sometimes they took bread soaked in wine
just. upon getting up inthe morning ; but, im a general way, they
had only two meals a day—one, in the forenoon, served for
both breakfast and luncheon; one in the afternoon, for both
dinner and tea; after which people kept indoors and enjoyed
themselves. And, let me tell you, Bull,” (was not that familiar
of him ?—Apollo calling me Bull?) “my Greeks knew how to
enjoy themselves without giving the reins to their impulses:
there were no fast men and boys in Greece ; and yet they were
a gay people. They used to eat barley and wheaten bread,
sometimes mixed up with wine, oil, and spices, —pork and mutton,
—black puddings,—onions, garlic, cabbages, beans, and all that.
Fish they were very fond of. ‘Then, they had fowl too. Olives,
figs, nuts, honey, grapes, were used as dessert. They had
spoons to eat with, and pieces of bread served for forks. Meat
was generally cut up before it was served at table. The guests
seldom gave way to intoxication, and were not always allowed
to drink as much as they pleased; a master of the feast, like
your chairman at a public dinner, being chosen to keep order.

«Dinner parties in Greece, called symposia, as you know,
Mr. Bull, were very frequent, and very pleasant. Birthday
parties, sacrificial parties, and bachelors’ or young people’s parties,
were some of the forms of the symposia.’ ”

Here Amy broke in upon Fred’s narration with the question,
whether Apollo told him “how they used to dress for dinner?”

“ He did,” said Fred, “ listen to his words :—

“¢T have been present at a Feast of the Poets in England,
of which Mr. Leigh Hunt has given you an account, and I was
disgusted at the sombre style of dress in use among you
48 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. III.

islanders.. In Greece, the guests used to come to a dinner-
party dressed in the handsomest and most cheerful manner,
perfumed and anointed, and crowned with flowers. As soon as
a new-comer entered the portal, a slave approached, removed
his sandals, and bathed his feet. Then came the dinner, then
the dessert, and the wine-drinking, and the feast of reason and
flow of soul, under the direction of the symposiarch, who mixed
the wine with water in a great big bowl, and then sent it round
in goblets, into which it had been ladled with a spoon.’

“¢ Like our punch,’ I observed.

“ ¢ As you please,’ said the god, ‘I was never a tippler ; it is
a sad thing when a clever dog is too fond of the goblet. Iam
not partial to that sort of poet. I make the remark, because I
fancied your allusion, Mr. Bull, pointed to the convivial. habits
of too many of my devotees, and I wish you to understand that I
do not admire them: ariston men udor, water is best—that’s
my motto, though you wouldn’t think it. When I used to be
worshipped, with Artemis and Leto, at Delos—ah! those were
times!—a great many extravagant things were done, and my
Greeks gave way to a good many frenzies ; but, on the whole,
J was worshipped in olden days in a much more respectful and
rational manner than by some of your tipsy poets. I was
always a sensible god, and my Greeks knew it. How else
could I keep my head clear for uttering the oracles when all
the world came to Delphos, and hold my bow steadily for the
archery in which I excelled ? However, this is self-praise.’

“T took advantage of a modest pause Apollo made here, to
ask him about the Ancient Mysteries and the Religion of his
Greeks, He told me this :—

“Of all our mysteries, you know, I dare say, Mr. Bull, the
mysteries of Eleusis, in honour of Ceres, were the most cele-
Cuap. IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 49

brated. Every Athenian was bound to go to Eleusis.once, to
see them. It was a sort of Confirmation, or grand sacrament of
his religion. There would be a band of pilgrims, and they
walked from Athens to Eleusis, a distance of about twelve
miles. When they got there, they had to undergo ceremonies
of purification, and sacrifices were offered by torchlight. Then,
as we Greeks (as I have told you) were never ashamed of our
mortal bodies, and thought the gods were pleased to see us
keep them in good condition—as, in fact, we admired what
those horrid Romans called the mens sana in corpore sano—the
sound mind in sound body—and thought the gods did too—we
always got up sports and athletic games, in which prizes of
honour were contended for. At dead of night the candidates
for initiation were led into the Temple of the Mysteries, dressed
in fresh, clean raiment, and wearing crowns of myrtle upon their
foreheads. As they passed the sacred portal, they dipped their
fingers into a font of holy water. Soon after, the high priest of
the occasion received them, with stern and awful brow, and told
them that a pure heart was expected of every candidate who
came. Then he read to them, out of a sacred scroll, the
meaning of the Mysteries, and catechised them concerning their
preparation for so august an occasion: had they subdued their
animal passions by fasting? had they resolved to encounter
worthily whatever terror they might meet? and so on. These
questions answered, the Mysteries began, and they contained
many things which I cannot describe to one so young as you,
Mr. Bull, junior. Thunders rolled, and lightnings flashed in the
gloom. Earthquakes shook the ground, and fearful rumblings
and mysterious voices made darkness horrible. Daggers
gleamed, blood flowed, and shades from Pluto’s realm passed
whitely through the dark. Then the sad story of the Great
50 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuap, ITI.

Mother and her daughter Proserpina was acted over. The
initiated was left overwhelmed with pity and terror, and, after
seeing so much, was supposed to be all his life free from the
power of passion. But, perhaps, you would like to know some-
thing of the procession sculptured on the frieze of the Parthenon
there? Thatis the Panathenaic procession, in honour of Athene,
the patron goddess of Athens. It took place once every year,
and also with peculiar splendour once every four years. All
the citizens and sojourners, men, women, and children, went to
this festival on the Acropolis, and the procession bore an em-
broidered robe, which was to be put over the statue. Old
men, with olive-branches, went first; then middle-aged men,
with shields and spears, behind; and beside them went the
foreigners, carrying little boats to indicate that they had come
from afar. Next, the women; then the young men, crowned
with millet and singing the praises of the goddess) These
were followed by a beautiful band of patrician virgins of Athens,
carrying baskets and offerings, while the girls from abroad bore
parasols and seats; and the little boys closed the procession.
Then there were games and contests of physical strength, and
dramatic and musical performances.—It was always insisted
that an animal offered to the gods should be sound and healthy.
When it was brought to the altar, its usual food was offered to
it, and it was expected to taste it. Then the priest drew a
knife over its back from head to tail, under which operation it
was expected to stand quiet, as a sign of willingness to be
offered up. The celestial gods were propitiated or offered to in
the morning of the day (though the subterranean or infernal
gods were worshipped at night), and this was the way: the fire
was lit on the altar, which was sprinkled with meal and
water——’
Cuap. IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 51

“*You basted the altar; we baste the meat,’ said I, ven-
turing on a joke. :

“ «Then the officiating priest dipped an olive-branch in the
water, or one of the faggots, and sprinkled the congregation.
A sort of crier demanded “ Who is here?” The people re-
sponded, “Many and good.” Then the crier warned the people
present to keep a religious silence, which meant to avoid uttering
any unlucky words ; and the priest, after saying, “ Let us pray,”
delivered a prayer. After the victim had been examined and
tested, as I told you just now, there was another prayer. The
priest took a cup of wine to his lips, sent it round among the
company, and emptied what remained on the victim’s head.
Frankincense being spilled into the crackling fire to make it
odorous, the animal was slain, and part burned. While it was
being consumed, another prayer was offered up, and the people
sang a hymn to the music of a flute, and danced around the
altar. The hymn sung in my honour was always called a pean
—a word which you moderns employ to indicate almost any song
of praise. Often there was a sort of sacred, but cheerful, dinner-
party, and the whole was concluded with a libation of wine,
publicly made, and the pronouncing of a benediction or invoca-
tion at the moment of the outpouring. My Greeks had no
Sundays, as you have, but festival and sacrificial occasions were
frequent, and a man might take or make almost as many
holidays as he liked or could afford.’

“ «JT have read,’ said I, with a little timidity, as I could not
tell but I might offend Apollo, ‘I have read that the Greeks
had a great many silly, childish superstitions.’

« ¢ Ah, I dare say you have,’ replied the good-natured god.
‘But you must not draw hasty conclusions. No doubt the
Greeks were superstitious, but they were not silly in every case
52 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. III.

where a modern critic of their rites and ceremonies might sup-
pose them to be so. ‘Time obliterates the reasons and the
meanings of many things, and trifles appear foolish to-day
which had wisdom in the yesterday of antiquity. My Greeks
thought a hare running across the path a bad sign; so do some
of your country people in England. Things which happened on
the right-hand side of the body they esteemed lucky—on the
left the reverse, namely unlucky, It was unlucky to use words
meaning death or ruin, at certain times, especially during reli-
gious services ; and sneezing was sometimes treated as an ora-
cular declaration of the will of the gods. The raven was sacred
to myself, and treated as an oracular bird. Meanings were put
into the turn the smoke took, the noise made by wine in being
poured from a flagon, and numerous other trifles—but perhaps
it was better to wait upon the will of the gods in a mistaken
way than to do almost everything from cold-blooded se/f-will,
as too many of your excessively “ enlightened” moderns do!’

“¢ Your people seem to have taken great delight in their
temples and the images of their gods,’ I said.

“ «Yes, truly. Why, do you know the statue of the Olympian
Jove, in the Temple near where the Games were held, was made
of ivory and gold, and sixty feet high! Statues like that, Mr.
Bull, were made by men—not by puny fellows like your artists
now-a-days. Every boy in Athens, clever or not clever, was
exercised in running, wrestling, archery, javelin-throwing, ball,
quoits, and boxing ; so, if there happened to be a genius—like
Phidias, for example—he grew up an athletic, manly genius,
and threw off work with some sinews in it. Ah, deary, deary
me! My Greeks knew how to combine grace and strength,
and they did it. My Greeks, Mr. Bull, lived in a country less
than Portugal, not 300 miles long, and not 200 broad, but they
Cuap. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 53

were fine fellows—fine manly fellows! The poorest citizen
had his daily bath ; good wrestlers were counted heroes ; Crito-
bulus said, “ I swear by the gods I would rather have beauty
than all the powerof kings.” Look about you, in this little
lumber-room of mine, and see what splendid things the fellows
did. Look at that Venus Victrix there. Look at that spirited
Mercury. Look at that Fortune poised on a globe. Look at
the Antinous. Look at the Adonis with the arrow-shaft in his
hand. Look at that Sleeping Cupid. Look at that Venus
taking out the thorn, when the drops of blood from her white
foot turned to violets on the greensward. And, oh! look at
that glorious Dying Gladiator there-——

“Ah? I interrupted, ‘ has not our Byron sung beautifully
of him ?—

‘“‘T see before me the gladiator lie:
He leans upon his hand—his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,
And his drooped head sinks gradually low.” ’

“You needn’t quote any poet to me, Mr. Bull,’ replied
Apollo. ‘I know ’em all by heart of course. Look, sir, at that
Diana, shielding the sacred fawn with the golden foot from the
pursuing Hercules—look at the elastic spring of her beautiful
limbs, and the wrath of the insulted goddess dilating her glo-
rious eye! Ah, one of your poets, Bull, sang a pretty Hymn to
her in his “ Cynthia’s Revels ””—Ben Jonson—(a fine fellow was
Ben, but rather proud, and sometimes rude to his betters, my
Shakspeare for example). Do you know his hymn ?—

“ Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep :
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright,


54 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IIT,

“ Harth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose ;
Cynthia’s shining orb was made
Heav’n to cheer, when day did close.
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright.

“ Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver ;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever :
Thou that mak’st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.”

The part of your Byron’s verses about that Gladiator which I
admired most, Mr. Bull, was that closing imprecation—

“ Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!”

O wasn’t I glad when those Romans were served out! Look,
sir, again, at that Juno“ ox-eyed Juno” as we called her.
Look at Minerva with her snake-entwined egis, or her helm of
the time of Pericles (I could weep for that time!). And-look,
sir, at that Boy and Dolphin—did you ever see a sweeter
face?—and at those tipsy, mischievous Fauns there—I am
sure, if—Hark! what is that?’

“ Tt seemed, in my dream, that we heard the sound of a horn.
Apollo started, turned as pale as a god could be expected to
do, and, with a hasty nod, dashed upon the shoulders of Dobbin,
and left me in a luminous, golden smoke of beautiful perfume !
Very surprising conduct, was not it?”

“I dare say,” interposed Hetty, “ashe hated the Romans so,
it reminded him of the Roman horn, and he couldn’t bear it.
Poor fellow!”
Cuar. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 55

“Why, Hetty is almost as clever as Fred,” whispered Bob
to Bella. Fred continued :—

“There my dream about Apollo’s lumber-room ends. The
only other picture of what I saw in Greece with which I shall
trouble you now is this, of the market in Athens, which I passed
through in the morning, after I awoke. I will paint it in the
words of a famous writer, named Becker. ‘The market-place
was rapidly filling with people when I got into it. Traders
had set up their hurdlework stalls all over it, with their wares
exposed on tables and benches. Here the female bakers had
piled up their round-shaped loaves and cakes, and were pur-
suing with a torrent of scolding and abuse the unlucky wight
who happened, in passing by, to upset one of their pyramids.
There simmered the kettle of the woman who sold boiled peas
and other vegetables; in the crockery-market hard by the pot-
men were descanting on the goodness of their wares; a little
way off, in the myrtle-market, chaplets and fillets were to be
sold, and many a buxom flower-weaver received orders for
garlands to be sent home by her in the evening. All the wants
of the day, from barley groats up to the most dainty fish; from
garlic to the incense of the gods; clear pure oil and the most
exquisite ointments ; fresh-made cheese and the sweet honey of
the bees of Hymettus; cooks ready to be hired; slaves, male
and female, on sale ae

“Your Greeks ought to be ashamed of themselves, Mr. Fred,
for keeping slaves,” exclaimed Amy, bridling up, and turning
red with virtuous indignation.

“ My dear girl, that sentiment does you credit ; but in Greece
and in the East, slavery was not the horrid revolting thing it is
in America, mind that.—Well, ‘ There were all these to be
found in abundance at their customary stands. There were others


o

56 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. ITI.

who went about crying their wares, while every now and then a
public crier crossed the ground, announcing with Stentorian
voice the arrival of some goods to be sold, or the sale of some
house, or perhaps a reward for the apprehension of a robber or
runaway slave. Slaves of both sexes, as well as freemen, kept
walking up and down, bargaining and inspecting the stalls in
search of their daily requirements. Several, too, hovered longer
than necessary about a pretty shopwoman, or approached some
fruiterer’s basket and commenced a friendly conversation, under
cover of which, while some other person was buying or having a
drachma changed, they would pilfer the fruit.’ ”’

“Then there were thieves in Greece?” inquired Bob.

“Thieves, I should think so, Bobby mine!” replied Fred.
‘‘ Lots of thieves. There were housebreakers and footpads there,
as well as in England. In some things, of course, my Greeks
were very different from English people ; for instance, the men
and not the women went to market to make the household
purchases, but, on the whole, they were very much like us in
minor matters ; for example, gossips and quidnuncs used to go
to the barbers’ shops to talk over the news and the scandal, just
as they do here.”

“Wern’t you very much frightened in your dream, when
Apollo came down on horseback to speak to you?” asked
Bobby.

“Frightened, I should think so! I felt quite excited. But
I tell you I have had to go through a good deal. On my way
from Athens to the place where I had seen the dancing Alba-
nians by the night-fires on the shore, in the blue starry mid-
night, I should have been very hungry if it had not been for a
chapel dedicated to Hecate, which I found by the road-side.”

“What on earth did you find in the chapel, then ?”
Cuar. IIT. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 57

“ O, only eggs and Welsh rabbit.”

“ Welsh rabbit! you are joking.”

“Not I, Bobby. Rich people put toasted cheese and eggs in
such places for the sustenance of wandering beggars. Well, to
make a long story short, I escaped Mediterranean pirates and
shipwreck in the Bay of Biscay, and, putting papa’s talisman in
use, got home by the very same Roc that had taken me thither,
feeling rather tired and very pleased. I must confess the
figures of the Fates, in Apollo’s lumber-room, left a terrible
impression on my mind for a long time, and the face of Euripides
was rather awful ; but I didn’t care. I enjoyed my journey, and
so I did the next, which I will tell you another time, if you
like.”

Bobby thought to himself, and, indeed, he said to Bella, “ If
I’m to wait till I’ve been and seen all Fred has seen, and can
tell it as well, Bella, before I have a stand-up collar and wear
a surtout, it will not be just yet.”

But Bella comforted him with kind encouraging words, and
we shall know, by-and-by, 1 dare say, all about his progress and
the surtout and the stand-up collar. Meanwhile, we must not,
for truth’s and goodness’ sake, pass by, without a word of pro-
test, the enthusiasm of our genial friend the “lord of light and
the unerring bow.” in favour of the palmy days of his Athens
under Pericles. Let me employ, for this purpose, the plain but
forcible words of the Rev. James White, who says that “here,
as in all other instances, the despotism of one degraded the many.
Cimon, with more virtue but less genius, had combined the cha-
racters of leader and improver ; but Pericles, unable to contend
in generosity with the richest man in Attica, and yet deter-
mined not to leave him a monopoly of popular gratitude for the
aD: THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IIT,

liberality of his gifts, converted the funds of the commonwealth
into donatives to the poor. He paid the populace equally for
being idle and being employed. The works of the city were
carried on by the slaves; the poorer of the free inhabitants had
nothing to do but receive their allowance from the public coffers,
with a further payment for condescending to sit in judgment in
the courts of justice and listen to the noblest oratory that human
lips had yet uttered. Seats in the theatre were free ; and there
the masterpieces of human genius were shaking the hearts of
breathless thousands with the terrors of tragedy, or irritating
the passions of a volatile population with the bitterest lampoons
in the shape of farce. Meantime, the porches, the covered ways,
the arcades of temples, and the newly-planted Academe, were
filled with the anxious disciples of great philosophers, listening
to the honeyed words of wisdom, or the cutting tones of objur-
gation and contempt, poured into their ears by the masters they
particularly followed. On every side of them rose wonderful
buildings, consecrated nominally to the worship of the gods, but
acting, in reality, as triumphs of refinement and art. Statues
smiled upon them in the deathless beauty of the Apollo, or
awed them with the grandeur of superhuman power in the
colossal form of Minerva. Nothing was wanting to the develop-
ment of the national intellect or the deterioration of the personal
character. They were a people of critics and lawyers, and poli-
ticians and philosophers; they caught the faintest hint conveyed
in the subtlest language, and perceived the slightest blemish
either in speech or picture; yet they were false and unprin-
cipled—greedy of money, greedy of praise. Pericles had refined
them into judges and connoisseurs, and sunk them into paupers ;
he cultivated their tastes and flattered their wildest desires.”
Cuap. III. SINDBAD’S SECOND JOURNEY. 59

There is truth in this, and it should be remembered by us all
that very great artistic culture, and a fine development of the
human animal, do not at all imply an educated conscience.
Some day you will understand me better when I say that a life
whose be-all and end-all is Art, is made up of beautiful selfish-
ness, which will react in degradation.
60 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. LY.

CHAPTER IV.
SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY,

LirrLe Hindbad, Bella, Amy, and Hetty, being all ready to
listen as usual, Sindbad began the narration of his third journey
as follows :— :

“The Roc which carried me to Sydenham was not only a
comfortable easy-going Roc, you must understand, but it was a
regular, punctual, obliging sort of animal, and admitted me
under one of its fins as often as I chose. I had only to put
papa’s talisman in my pocket and go to the place where I had
first seen the Roe, to find my way into fresh adventures of a very
interesting, if startling, description. If my last adventures sur-
prised you, those I am about to narrate now will surprise you
infinitely more. Yet I shall say nothing for which I have not
good grounds—and thus it was :—

“¢ My civil and punctual friend, the Roc, took me under his
fins one day, just as before, and whizzed with me through the
air with the same rapidity, till he landed me in the most beautiful
Garden I ever was in in my life. I dare say you, Amy, and
you, Hetty, know something about gardening, so you will quite
understand all I am going to say.

“In what are called the Middle or Dark Ages, when there
was little going on but fighting and squabbling and thieving
between hostile barons and clans, and people stayed’a good deal
inside their fortresses, gardens were laid out for the pleasure of
high-born ladies and lords within the walled squares of the
castles, and with great art. The space being confined, and
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SINDBAD’S OBSERVATIONS UPON GARDENING,—?. 60.
Cuar. LY. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 61

natural beauty for the most part demanding a large platform, at
least in every form of the landscape, people fell back upon mere
art or invention, and a formal style of treating pleasure-grounds
grew into use, in which cut hedges, trimmed alleys, fountains,
imitation rock-work, statuary, urns and vases, were the dis-
tinguishing features. Art was almost everything, Nature quite
subordinate—although there were some formal attempts, as in
the case of the imitation-rocks, to reproduce some of her bolder
features upon a small scale. This style naturally came to its
climax in Italy, the land of art, the nurse of civilization in the
Middle Ages, and the inheritor of the traditions of ancient
Rome, of whose gardening it was a eopy. It is called the
Italian style; and though gardens in Italy are now more after
the English or natural model than they used to be, they are
still laid out in a formal and artificial manner.

“Tt was not till near the time of Shakspeare and Bacon that
gardening became an art in England. Henry VIII. had a
very fine garden at Nonsuch Palace in Surrey, in which he put
a marble pyramid, with holes in it, which escaped notice till you
got pretty close, and then sent out jets of water upon you,
sprinkling you all over in a shameful manner. This was con-
sidered a first-rate joke, and, as it was the joke of a king, it
was very soon imitated all over the country by people who could
afford such a thing in their garden. Then, as you know, there
were the mazes, of which there is one we have all seen at
Cardinal Wolsey’s Palace at Hampton Court. Lord Bacon
wrote a very beautiful Essay on Gardens, beginning, ‘God
Almighty first planted a garden, and, certainly, it is the purest
of human pleasures;’ and he cried out for the admission of
more pure nature into our gardens; proposing that there should
always be what he calls a ‘heath or desert,’ beyond the em-

E
62 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. IV

bellished part of the grounds. We can al! read his Essay,
when we please, and it is very pretty. In the times of Pope
and Addison all kinds of ‘fantastic tricks’ were played with
gardening ornamentation. Trees were cut and trimmed into
the likeness of animals, statues, and what not. We read, in
humorous papers of Pope and Addison, of ‘a St. George in
box, his arm scarce long enough, but will be in a condition to
stick the dragon next April;’ and a quickset hog shot up into
a porcupine by being forgot a week in rainy weather.’ However,
Pope himself, like Shenstone and Cowper, was a man of taste
and a clever gardener, and he laid out his own grounds at
Twickenham in a very beautiful manner.

* The Dutch style of gardening is what you might naturally
expect from the dwellers in a flat country, intersected by canals
—a country which has been called a ‘ship at anchor ;’ but
which, in my humble opinion, would be better called a barge at
rest. Dutch gardening is very square—if you look at a piece
of flat ground you instinctively think rather of squares than of
curves—very trim, and full of gaudy flowers, such as tulips and
sunflowers. We all know that at one time in Holland fortunes
were staked, and lost, and won, in the cultivation of tulips.
How beautifully Cowper writes of a garden!”

“I think I could repeat his verses,” said Amy, and her
sweet, soft accents were a pleasant change from Fred’s grave
tones, as she recited, with gentle modesty, and a little bashful
blush coming and going on her forehead, the fine lines from the
‘ Task :’—

“To deck the shapely knoll,
That softly swell’d and gaily dress’d appears
A flowery island from the dark green lawn

Emerging, must be deem’d a labour due
To no mean hand, and asks the touch of taste.
Cuar. IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 63

Here also grateful mixture of well-match’d

And sorted hues (each giving each relief,

And by contrasted beauty shining more)

Is needful. Strength may wield the pond’rous spade,
May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home ;
But elegance, chief grace the garden shows,

And most attractive, is the fair result

Of thought, the creature of a polish’d mind.
Without it all is Gothic as the scene

To which the insipid citizen resorts

Near yonder heath ; where industry misspent,

But proud of his uncouth ill-chosen task,

Has made a heaven on earth; with suns and moons
Of close-ramm’d stones has charged the encumber’d soil,
And fairly laid the zodiac in the dust.

He, therefore, who would see his flowers disposed
Sightly and in just order, ere he gives

The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds,
Forecasts the future whole ; that when the scene
Shall break into its preconceived display,

Each for itself, and all as with one voice
Conspiring, may attest his bright design.

Nor even then dismissing as perform’d

His pleasant work, may he suppose it done.

Few self-supported flowers endure the wind
Uninjured, but expect the upholding aid

Of the smooth-shaven prop, and, neatly tied,

Are wedded thus, like beauty to old age,

For interest’s sake, the living to the dead.

Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffused
And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair,

Like virtue, thriving most where little seen :

Some more aspiring catch the neighbour shrub
With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch,

Else unadorn’d, with many a gay festoon

And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well

The strength they borrow with the grace they lend.
All hate the rank society of weeds,

EQ
64 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IV.

Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust

The impoverish’d earth ; an overbearing race,
That, like the multitude made faction-mad,
Disturb good order, and degrade true worth.”

“Very pretty, Amy, and very prettily said,” resumed Fred.
“ The gardens in which I now found myself, thanks to the Roe,
were anintermixture of the Italian and English styles of garden-
ing, and I should say they covered a couple of hundred acres.
The general effect of the arrangement was symmetrical in the
extreme ; and bringing my mathematics into play, I found out,
after careful observation, that the width of the walks, the length
of the terraces, the breadth of the steps, and the other propor-
tions of the whole scheme, were all multiples or submultiples
of the number eight. Beautiful terraces and _balustrades,
streams and lakes, arcades, a Temple of Roses, dark cedar-
trees, and white statues, varied the scene; and I could have
fancied I was in an enchanted ground, as perhaps I was,—en-
chanted by—well, never mind by whom or by what !—when, all
on a sudden, a number of fountains sprang into the air, and sent
up the water in white feathery columns that seemed to play
with each other and with the clouds, and ask the Sun to turn
them into rainbows, and then bashfully slip down again, and
away. O, it was a pretty sight, I can tell you! But even
while I was thinking how pretty it was, the white columns sank,
and I saw a tall, awful, beautiful form emerging from the large
basin ; a form which seemed to cover the whole horizon, without
darkening it, and, above all, to be bent upon speaking to me /
It was the grandest figure I ever beheld. Seemingly of female
sex, venerable and yet young, of a grand, sweet, matronly
beauty, the Being sublimely rose from the subsiding water
against the rounded sky, and smiled at me. Her head was
Cuap. IY. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 65

crowned with a diadem of dazzling snow and ice, round which a
halo of coruscating purple hovered in a flashing fitful way, which
made me think of the northern lights, or the electric fluid sent
through a glass tube. Her mantle, of rich, dark green, varied
with autumnal brown, the colour of the ripened fields, was
dotted with flowers,—daisies and roses, lilies of the valley,
and fuchsias; while a few rhododendrons clustered on her ice-
bound forehead. Folded about her in a thousand undulations
was a vast scarf of a lighter green, a clear emerald, fluttering
in the wind, and bordered with the whitest ermine. There
were a few streaks of grey in her floating hair, and a mark or
two of care on her cheek. I thought she seemed anxious to
hide some spots of blood which stained her daisied skirt; and,
as she smiled, and prepared to address me, she pointed solemnly
to an inscription, which I had not before noticed, upon her girdle
—‘ The Eartu is the Lorp’s, and the fulness thereof.’ I felt
impelled to ask the awful beautiful stranger who She was,
though I confess I had a notion. So I asked the immemorial
question put to ghosts and burglars by night—

«WHO ARE YOU?’

* Graciously bending down her forehead till a breath from
her lips sweeter than the south wind infused courage into my
spirit, she said in accents of softest reproachfulness,—

“© ¢ What! do you not know your own Mother?’

* ¢ Mother!’ I exclaimed.

“¢ Yes, Mother, the great, general mother ; bountiful and
strong, and ready as ever to tell her children her secrets. I
am MoTuer Eartu.’

“ At this moment I could have kissed her feet, so sweet and
loving was her voice—but I only drew in the odour of the
flowers on her robe, and kept silence. She began to speak again.

E3
66 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuapr. IV.

‘“‘ fountains, and, as I thought you one who likes to know and to
be wise, and I am ever willing to tell my story to such as will
listen, I took counsel with Water, and came up through the
Central Fountain there, to tell you some of my secrets, my most
ancient secrets. It is not usual for a lady to disclose her age,
but as I am ever young, or ever renewing my youth, I don’t
mind telling you—and you may tell as many of your fellow-
mortals, children of mine, as you please—that I am millions of
years old, and had a history of the deepest interest before one
of you men trod the valleys. Look at me; do I seem old?
Ah! I see you are admiring my emerald scarf; that is what
you call the Sea, and the foam is the ermine-like border. I
should be glad, sometimes (and here the Being shed a few
tears), if this scarf of mine were wide enough to cover the blood-
stains I so unwillingly bear !’—There was a short pause. .....

“ Looking at Her crown of peaked ice, I couldn’t help
shivering, and asked Her if she was not rather cold? She
smiled, and said—

*“¢Oh no! How should I be cold? You don’t know how
many coats I have on, my child. And, now I think of it, the
best way to tell you my earliest secrets, will be to take off my
coats, one by one, and show you the curiosities hidden in their
folds. But mind, my dear child, you must not be alarmed, if
some of these curious secrets of mine should seem very ugly and
horrible to you. I have carried them in my bosom for so many
ages that I have become accustomed to their shapes; and, in~
deed, some of them have got cracked and broken, when, in
moments of excitement I have shaken up the folds of my coats,
or drawn my scarf tighter about me than usual.’

“ Mother Earth seemed so kind and communicative that I
Cuar. IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 67

began to take courage, and to feel prepared to listen to her
disclosures without apprehension. As she seemed to point to a
retired and distant spot in these beautiful gardens, I concluded
that I had better go thither, and that she would then take off
some of her coats and show me the curiosities hidden in their
folds, as she had promised. Thither, accordingly, I went,
when the beautiful Mother proceeded to address me as fol-
lows :—

“ superficial covering. You give it various names in your geo-
logical books. First you have the vegetable soil, then peat,
then gravel, then blue clay. But my interior coats lie lower
down, next in order to the clay. First of all comes the third,
or, as you call it, the Tertiary coat. This is a coat with three
histories, belonging to its Eocene, Miocene, and Pliocene periods
of wear. In the plastic clay, flinty limestone, and shelly de-
posits of which this coat is made, you find a good many curiosi-
ties, but they are of a kind which is not extraordinarily remote
from such curiosities as now appear upon my outer coat ; croco-
diles, gigantic tapirs, whales, mastodons, ruminant animals,
mammoths, and soon. In my Primary, or unfossiliferous coat,
which is very strong and hard, made of granite and gneiss, and
slate, I have, indeed, some curious things, but they are not of
the kind which I shall now describe to you. At the time when
my second, or Secondary, coat was uppermost—for I did not
always wear the third or Tertiary, only I want more warmth as
I get older and the cares of a family increase upon me—my face
was not like what it is now. Bats almost as long as your friend
Sindbad’s roc (you see I know all) were flying about in the hot
air in chase of dragon-flies larger than your bats; crocodiles
and tortoises three or four times bigger than any you see now
68 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Guar, IV.

were swarming and nestling and crunching and munching and
snoozing in stifling jungles; and, besides these, there were—
but ¢hey ave amongst the curiosities I have to show you now,
and I shall alight upon them in due time.

“*TLook at this island—it is a cutting from my Secondary
coat. You perceive it is composed of several sorts of stuff.
First, there is the Chalk ; 2nd, the Wealden; 3rd, the Oolite ;
4th, the Lias; 5th, the New Red Sandstone.

“* You know what Chalk is—it is what your schoolfellows,
when they are rudely playful, mark dunce on your back with.
(Here the Great Mother graciously smiled.) ‘ And you know,
in addition, that the white cliffs of the southern coasts of Eng-
land are very striking specimens of chalk. But, considering
how enormous are the masses in which it appears in this coat of
mine, you may be surprised to hear that every atom of chalk
which you see, and many millions you never did and never can
or will see—no, not even when I take you to my bosom again
—came out of living creatures and plants, at one time or
another. White chalk is what your chemists call carbonate of
lime, and it is made of dead coral animals, shellfish, &e., re-
duced to this form partly by chemical, partly by mechanical
eauses. In the coral-reef, the manufacture of chalk for a future
coat of mine is going on at this moment, against the time when
I shall want it.

& © Well, you are aware that you men sometimes go foraging
about in the folds of my coats; and I have not the least ob-
jection, for I keep all sorts of usefull and pretty things there on
purpose for you; coal to warm you in winters gold and silver
for ornament and for use; iron and steel; and beautiful jewels
for crowns and rings—to say nothing of salt, and stone, and slate,
and gravel, for all which you find a use.
Cuar. IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 69

“¢ On the borders of the river Meuse, in Germany, some work-
men were once digging deep for chalkstone, when they found
part of a very curious thing indeed, in a dilapidated condition.
A learned doctor, by name Hoffmann, was called in by the
men, and he took great interest in the pieces that he found, and
put them together. But my poor children are very quarrel-
some. They went to law over this curiosity. One of the
canons of the cathedral at Maestricht pretended to have rights
in the soil of the quarries which gave him a title to what the
workmen and Dr. Hoffmann had found, and the law went for
the greedy, stupid canon. But mark the chances and changes
of time! In 1795, fifteen years after the curiosity had been
turned up, the French army poured shot and shell into the
town where it lay, but received strict orders not to hurt the
curiosity, which was carried away and put into the Garden of
Plants at Paris. Look here, I can show you what its head was
like! Four feet and a half long, two feet and a half wide:
sharp-pointed teeth, you see, in the usual place on the jaw;
but, besides these, a row on a bone of the roof of the mouth, as
in some monster lizards. Pretty creature, wasn’t it? It was
about thirty feet long altogether—seven times as long as you are
high. I keep this sort of curiosity in the chalky part of my
second coat, and it used to frequent the seas, and catch and
devour all it could. You call it in your books the Mosasaurus,
meaning the Lizard of the Meuse (which in Latin is Mosa).
But some of you have found little fragments of other specimens
in other parts of the chalky layers of my coat; for instance, in
Kent and in America. This is one curiosity out of your Mother
Earth’s coat, you see.

“ «But here is another; and this zs curious, indeed; one of
the most curious things I have to show you, perhaps. It is not
70 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Car. IV,

the animal slain by the patron-saint of your England ; but, for
all that, it is a flying dragon, or winged lizard. When you
mortals found. it, you called it a Pterodactyle, which is a name
made up of two Greek words, pteron, wing, and dactylos, finger,
because the wings are attached to and borne up by the little or
outer finger of the claws at the end of the fore-limbs. Here,
you see, is one preparing to fly down upon its prey. Here is
another, sitting or squatting, looking something like a cross
between a dragon and a pelican, in the attitude of a giraffe
lying down. The wings of this ancient curiosity of mine were
made of folds of skin, like a bat’s, and the body was covered
with scales, like a lizard, and not with feathers, like a bird.
Then, what answered to a beak, at the end of the long neck,
had long jaws full of sharp teeth. The largest of these curious
things were about eighteen feet from tip to tip of the wings;
but they were of all average sizes, from that of a snipe to that of
a cormorant. They had large eyes, and could see by night: they
had claws at the ends of their wings, which fitted them to climb,
to crawl, or to hang from trees; and some of them had tails.
Strange creatures, these, were they not?’ said Mother Earth.
I replied that they were, indeed ; and, though the two I saw
were as dead as ditch-water, they looked so hideous and so
formidable, that I once or twice felt a shudder run through me
as I gazed. I wondered if the man that drew the willow-
pattern had ever seen a pterodactyle, as he made such funny
birds ; and if Milton 2

“ O, I know what you’re going to say,” said Amy to Fred ;
“ you’ re going to quote some lines out of ‘ Paradise Lost ’°-—

‘The Fiend
O’er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,

With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,
And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.’ ”


Cuap. IY. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 71

“ You are right, Amy dear; I was: the passage is in the
Second Book, and it applies very well to this wonderful creature
of the old, old times of Mother Earth, with the wings of a bat,
the neck of a bird, and the head of a crocodile, with its asto-
nishingly large eyes, and its prehensile claws.

“ ¢ These pterodactyles,’ continued Mother Earth, ‘ did not live
exclusively on insects, they used to plunge and wade for fish in
the seas and rivers. But I have so many more curiosities in my
coat to show you, that I must hurry on.

‘** We now come to the Wealden, which is made up of stony
clay, sand, &c. Here, you see, is a sort of crocodile, but one
that did not eat animal food. When some of the teeth and
some of the bones of this curiosity were found, your great Baron
Cuvier guessed at once that they belonged to an “ herbivorous
reptile.” Youcall it the Iguanodon. It looks more elephantine
than you might suppose from my calling it a sort of crocodile,
and I must confess it was not pretty. As a géneral rule—one
which your Mr. Edmund Burke has said something about in his
book upon ‘ The Sublime and Beautiful’—big things are ugly
rather than pleasing, and this curiosity of my younger days was
thirty-five feet long from his nose to his tail, and twenty feet
round the thickest part of his body. His tail only was fifteen
feet long. He used to keep house on the banks and at the
mouths of rivers, and he lived on trees, preferring a vegetable
diet. This, which you call the Hyleosaurus, was a reptile of
the same sort, only he carried his head higher and drier, was
stronger in the rear, and longer-legged. I can’t say much for
his beauty either, but he used to enjoy himself in his way when
he was well provided for. Next to the Wealden part of my
second coat lies the Oolite, which you call ‘so because the most
striking thing in it is limestone made up of minute egg-like
grains. Oon is Greek for egg, and lithos for a stone "


73 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Citar. IV.

“ Are you quite sure,” interrupted Bob, “ that Mother Earth
remembered her Greek when she told you that? because in
John i. 42 it says Cephas means a stone.”

“ Mother Earth was quite right, Bobby, my boy. Don’t
you remember ‘ litho-graphy,’ stone-drawing? The word in
John i. 42 is Petros, or a rock, and the translators made a slip
in the rendering they have given. Well, Mother Earth went
on :—

«Tn this layer of my coat I keep, among other quaint things,
here and there a Megalosaurus (or Great Lizard—Greek,
megas, great; sauros, lizard), like this. He was a flesh-eating
lizard, a most terrific fellow both for size and for quality. He
was over thirty feet long; he has been guessed at forty or fifty.
His teeth were dreadful to see, and his temper was unamiable.
If you put together a carving-knife, a ‘Turk’s sabre, and a saw,
you get an idea of this individual’s masticating apparatus, and
he made good use of it, I can assure you. Here, again, are
two creatures you have taken to calling Teleosauri, when any
specimens have been turned up. They were a sort of crocodile,
only better swimmers, fonder of the water, and more a sea-
animal, I shall tell you nothing more about this part of my
coat, except that you find in it, when you pull it about with
your spades and so on, the remains of animals like the opossums
of Australia. Also some sorts of shell-fish and trees, such as
are now found in the South Pacific, as you call it, and which
were once common in your Europe.

“ which is made of limestone, marl, and petrified clay. Out of
this I take, for you to look at, some sea-lizards, which you call
Enaliosauria. Here is an “ Ichthyosaurus,” looking something
like a cross between a whale and a crocodile, which used to
spend its time chiefly in the water, but partly on shore, so you
Cuar. IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 78

call it a fish-lizard (ichthys, a fish). It had no scales, but a skin
like a whale’s; a wide mouth, long jaws, and sharp teeth, to
enable it to masticate the animal food, of which, in a partially
digested state, you sometimes find the specimens called coprolites.
This curious lizard-fish had an enormous and powerful eye,
covered with overlapping bony plates to protect the pupil from
the weight of the water above, when it dived for its prey, or was
rising to the surface of the sea.’

“* Have not some fishes such a protection to the eye now?”
asked Hetty.

“No,” replied Fred—* not like that—not so complicated ;
only turtles, birds, lizards, and tortoises. Mother Earth went
on with her disclosures :—

“*What do you think of this?’ said she. ‘Your fellow-
mortals call ita Plesiosaurus. a neck like a serpent, the ribs of a chameleon, the paddles of a
whale. This long-necked sea-lizard was rather an awkward
walker or waddler, from its paddles ; and an awkward swimmer,
from its tremendous neck; so it used to skim the open sca,
diving with its neck for its prey, or to lurk in the shoal-water
among the reeds, where its neck again enabled it to reach a
good distance outwards after anything it fancied, without moving
its body. Not being prompt in its movements, and having a
great many enemies in those very predatory times, it was
solitary in its habits, and used to skulk in holes and corners a
good deal, out of harm’s way.

“ «The next and last portion of my Secondary coat is called
the New Red Sandstone, which is above the Lias and under
the Coal in your country. I shall not trouble you with any
curiosities out of this part of my coat but these Frogs—big
enough to chew you into mincemeat and stow you comfortably

Â¥
74. THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IY.

away. This one is called the Salamander-like Labyrinthodon,
and, I must confess, he is no handsomer than some of the other
curiosities I have shown to you. O, yes, I had forgotten—I ’ve
so many things to think of. Here’s the Dicynodon, a sort of
sea-reptile, with tusks like a walrus, and some of them with a
head like an owl’s. And now you have seen enough for once.
Unless, perhaps, I show you just a thing or two out of my third,
or Tertiary coat; for instance, this Great Sloth dragging down
a tree to eat the leaves, or this Paleotherium, or these Elks.
A comical assemblage, I confess, but they look more na-
tural, and “feasible,” and “ Christian-like” (if I might say
so), than the curiosities in my other and lower coat, do they
MO? cet, evens

“ Mother Earth now made a pause, and seeming to give a sign
by a nod of her head, where the pine-trees rose dark against
the snowy mountains, a change came over the scene. The air
became hot and stifling. Tall palm-trees darkened the day.
The great Frog croaked as loud as thunder. The Pterodactyles
flapped their huge wings. The Sea-lizards plunged into the
water and floundered about. The Land-lizards began to fight.
The Paleotherium roared in the distance, and the noise and
confusion were terrible. Still the Gracious Mother smiled
above all, and looked as if she expected me to think of the
Ancient Mariner of Coleridge, when, in the horrors of the
tropical calm,

‘ Beyond the shadow of the ship
He watched the water-snakes—
and to sympathise with him—
‘ O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare ;
Sure, my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.’
Cuar, IV. SINDBAD’S THIRD JOURNEY. 75

But I thought them hideous and frightful, and betrayed by
my: uneasiness a desire for a change. ‘The Mother saw it, and,
with another nod of her brow, waved away the whole scene as
if it had never been, and, speaking no word, disappeared into
the fountains. Instead of these pre-adamite deformities, I saw,
as in a vision, smiling cornfields and thronged cities, where men
who were kind and brave, and women beautiful and fond, and
children innocent and gay, lived and loved, and wrought and
worshipped! Pondering what Mother Earth had told me of
her coats, and how slowly she had been prepared for the beauty
and proportion of her matron bloom, I felt in my own coat for
papa’s talisman, and again availed myself of the obliging Roe
for my homeward journey; thinking this bird much more useful
than a Pterodactyle, and not half so ugly.”

“ But then,” interposed Amy, “the Pterodactyles had their
uses in their day, and there was no Fred to see their ugliness.”

“ Right,” dear Amy, says Fred—‘ Bobby is useful in his
day, and he was made to see how pretty Bella is; but he
doesn’t, for he’s fast asleep.”

“I’m sure I aint!” cried Bob indignantly,—“I was only
shutting my eyes to try if I could see anything like what you
saw, but I couldn’t dream it all. I did a little bit though, and
I shall dream more next time I try.”

Good Bobby! He dreamed, in that night’s sleep, of a Plesio-
saurus in a stand-up collar, and a Pterodactyle in a surtout,
engaged in a fight for the honour of taking Bella to the Poly-
technic Institution.

FQ
76 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. V.

CHAPTER V.

SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY.

SrnpBav’s fourth journey commenced thus :—

“My next journey, performed chiefly with the aid of the
talisman and the Roc, which I found very convenient, was to
Weissnichtwo.”

In pronouncing this word, Fred, who was only just beginning
German, made such a noise in his throat, that Bella and Bob
burst into a laugh, for which they were gently admonished by
Amy, who said she knew the place very well, and that Fred had
given it the right name in German.

“ Then, where is it, Miss Amy?” asked Bob, rather saucily.

“ Where? Little boy, it is where Romulus and Remus
were suckled by a she-wolf, and where Goody Two-shoes was
born and bred, and where your Five Senses went when you were
fast asleep last night.”

“ Well, I don’t know any more about it, now,” said Bob, with
a perverse twinkle in his eye, “and I don’t believe you do
either.”

“ Very good, Bobby,” says Fred; “ perhaps we shall know
more about it by-and-by.. But, at present, I expect you to
listen to what I am going to tell you about my Fourth Journey.
I went, as I was saying, to Weissnichtwo, and there I saw a
good many more things and people than I can inform you of.
Some of them I will mention, and the rest you can go and find
out for yourselves one of these days. Weissnichtwo is a curious
place, and as full of wonders as Noah’s Ark.


SINDBAD’S JOURNEY TO WEISSNICHTWO (“ DON’T KNOW WHERE”).—P. 76,
Ouar. VY. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 77

“In Weissnichtwo I found, first, some things and persons
which appeared to me to have come all the way from Central,
and Eastern, and Southern Asia, and the South-eastern Asiatic
Archipelago, on purpose to meet me; and though they looked
unamiable or dirty, and some of them did disagreeable things,
I did not mind so much while they kept clear of positive
cruelty to their fellows. First of all, surrounded by bamboos,
rhododendrons, azaleas, camelias, magnolias, tea-plants, orange-
trees ; yaks which had trotted down from the hills, wolves, otters,
tigers, monkeys, rhinoceroses, humped oxen, camels, and what
not (it was just as if the people who brought Birnam Wood to
Dunsinane had brought their farmyard too), I saw some queer-
looking fellows, whom I at once recognised for Mongelians of
Central Asia, broad and high-cheeked, wide between the eyes,
and flat-nosed. I asked these gentry if they knew much of the
exploits of Tamerlane, and they answered me in a confused way
something about worshipping the Grand Lama and the Tsar of
Russia, or the Emperor of China. They looked as if they
could hardly say bo/ to a goose, so that it was not easy to
fancy their ancestors great conquerors, under the guidance of
the soldier who carried the fallen Bajazet about in a cage.”

“Do you mean to say you can talk Tibetan, Mister Fred?”
inquired Hetty.

“ Listen,” said Fred, evading the question. “ Fustumfunni-
dosrigdumrumidos raratara squarablaraboshyboo squashyboo tan-
tarapol!” That made them all burst out laughing; but Fred
declined to translate his bit of Tibetan, if Tibetan it was; for
you notice, I daresay, that he did not answer Hetty’s question ;
perhaps because he thought it impertinent.

“ Mingling with these Tibetans,” continued Fred, “ I saw some
pure East Indians, of different classes and castes—a few almost
78 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, V

like negroes, except in the hair; a few fairer and more intel-
ligent-looking. These were believers in Brahma and Budh,
and nobody knows what; but I also saw a few Malays, who
were Mahometans, from Malacca or Sumatra; and some who
were Pagans, from Java and elsewhere. These were bolder,
sharper-looking than the Tibetans and Hindoos, and not so
flat-faced. They looked very revengeful. Some had filed teeth,
and some stretched ears. Some had had the hair on their chins
and cheeks pulled out by tweezers, or rubbed away by quick-
lime. Some had earrings, some had tremendously-long finger-
nails, These Malays are, you must know, a commercial people,
fond of barter, and fond of the water. They are also fond of
excitement of all kinds, and so fond of gambling in particular,
that a Malay will lose his wife and family upon a fighting-cock,
and then sell himself for a slave to make another bet. One of
the ways in which the Malayan love of excitement shows itself
is well known to be that of ‘running-a-muck,’ as it is called—
that is, rushing frantically ahead with a dagger, stabbing at
random till fatigue knocks him down; but none of my fellows
ventured on this elegant pastime in my presence.

“ My attention, as a traveller in this miscellaneous and un-
accountable country of Weissnichtwo, was next called to some
Lubus, Battas, and Nias people, from the long island of Su-
matra. The Battas are, you must know, the only literary can-
nibals in the world. They have books like Christians, and
they eat their prisoners of war and criminals condemned. When
a man is to be eaten, they cover his head with a cloth, tie him
to a tree, and throw lances at him till he is mortally wounded.
When that is the case, they all rush up, and begin to cut slices
from his body, which they dip in a dish of salt, lemon-juice, and
pepper, and then broil a little, before eating them. They be-
Cuar. V. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 79

lieve in three gods; and that, when a man dies, his soul escapes
through his nostrils, and goes somewhere else on the wings of the
wind, to a happy or unhappy place, according to the life he has
led. They say that at first the earth was supported on the
head of Naga-padoha, who shook it off when he was tired, so
that the land sank, and only water remained. Then the chief
god Batara-guhu’s daughter Puti-orla-bulan came down below
upon a white owl, with a dog at her side; but not being able
to stay for the water, her father let down a great mountain for
her to live on, and from that all the other land grew. The
Nias folks have a shocking way of killing themselves and their
wives out of hand, when they do not feel comfortable ; but they
are a handy people, and know how to use tools of all sorts, and
instruments of art, very skilfully. I suppose Spurzheim would
say they have small Hope and large Constructiveness.

“You never heard, I dare say, of the Tenggher people in
Java? I saw one of their funerals, and a pretty sight it was—
full of poetic and kindly feeling. They live in a most beautiful
country, where the climate and the vegetation are almost
European in character. They have no such things as great
crimes among them, and, when any one does wrong, it is punish-
ment enough for the head of the village to give him a scolding.”

‘“* Hadn’t we better all go and live in that part of Weiss-
nichtwo, as you call it?” slily asked Hetty.

“T think, deary, we’d better all stay where we are and do
our duties—we should, perhaps, corrupt these good people. Or,
if we are adventurous, let us go and try to civilise bad people ;
for instance, the fierce Dyaks of Borneo and _thereabout,
some of whom I saw. They are very proud and revengeful,
fond of tattooing and of great earrings, and they are respectful
to the dead, whom they bury with great ceremony, first burning
80 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuap, V

torches beside the coffin for a week. The youth are trained in
swimming, wrestling, the sword-exercise, &c., and in some
places a young man cannot win a bride without taking her a
human head, as a specimen of what he can do—but the passion
for heads is dying out now. The manner in which they killa
victim who is to be offered to the memory of the dead is very
horrible. Just think of making it a festive occasion, firing
guns, and making a sort of fair of it, the victim quietly waiting
in sight of the grave ready-dug, till transfixed by as many
spears as can find room to enter the body, to the music of the
applauding mob! Go away, Dyaks, we don’t like the look of
you! Here come some Papuans and Australians. Funny
Papuans! building their huts on piles to keep out rats and
water, and frizzling up their oily hair into such masses that they
are obliged to lie down on pillows for their necks when they go
to bed! Some of them are well-made, handsome fellows, of a
chocolate colour, and clever archers. Much stronger and
better looking than two Australians whom I saw,—umiserable,
half-starved, thin-legged creatures, whom it was not pleasant to
look upon. They understand bleeding for the headache, but, as
they are poor in ideas, they have a very poor language. They are
good swimmers, but cannot count more than five. They believe
in a sort of god who lives on fish and comes up from the sea
when he is called; in white angels who keep up in a mountain
in the south-east, who eat only honey, and do good; and ina
monstrous black being named Wandong who does all the mischief
that is done. But this fiend has different names in different
parts. They have various opinions about a future world after
death, all of them being of a low and stupid order. When a
boy comes to about fourteen, they have certain ceremonies for
making a man of him, At dead of night he hears a horrid
Cuar. Y. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 81

noise in the woods, and is told Bubw is calling for him. Then
he is carried off and taken by his seniors through a course of
dances, sham-fights, and so on, a very barbarous resemblance to
the Eleusinian mysteries of Mr. Apollo’s friends the Greeks ; to
teach him to be bold, and in all things to behave like a man.
Afterwards, he is to be very particular in what he eats and
drinks, and to live on the coarsest food, till he is considered
quite a man; which is a good many years. When a man has
done wrong, they make him ‘stand punishment ;’ that is, they
put him in the middle of a ring, with a shield, which he uses for
his own protection, and then the whole tribe throw their spears
at him; sometimes he is only hurt, rarely killed off. I did
not like the looks of these Australian fellows, so I got off to
another part of Weissnichtwo as quickly as I could. I came
across some strangers from the eastern coast of Africa, Danakils,
half-negro, half-Arab, in appearance, looking something like
Jews, and leading a‘camel to water. ‘Then some Negroes from
the Niger lowlands, flat-fuced, thick-lipped, broad-nostrilled,
with woolly hair and slanting teeth. I saw a negro king, in a
drummer’s coat and black hat, wearing a blue cotton hand-
kerchief for the remainder of his dress; along with a group of
women-soldiers before him, singing in chorus—

‘ With these guns in our hands,
And powder in our cartouche-boxes,
What has the king to fear ?
When we go to war, let the king dance,
While we bring him prisoners and heads !’

I saw some of the Veys, who live near Liberia, and who have

lately invented an alphabet and set up schools, never having

previously reduced their language to shape. I saw, in the midst

of a landscape of thorny shrubs, aloes, acacias, and Cape-lilies,
F3
82 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. V

with antelopes and buffaloes in the distance, some Zulu Kaffirs,
tall and dark, and some Bushmen, shorter and of a lighter
colour. The Zulus were assembled in a conjuring or divining
circle in quest of a thief, with the Fetish-man, who was to find out
the culprit, in the midst. As for the Bushmen, their appearance
certainly did not belie the accounts given of them by missionaries
and others, who describe them as a sensual, lazy, thievish race,
essentially wild men, whom it will take two or three generations
to mend and reclaim thoroughly.

“The next thing which happened in my journey through
Weissnichtwo was that I found myself suddenly cast on the
other side of the Atlantic among the savages of America.
Through the haunts of the stupid-looking penguins, I passed to
the land where the chinchilla, so valuable for its fur, and the
llama haunt the mountain ranges, and fuchsias and petunias are
bright and beautiful in the valleys. Further north I went—
for Weissnichtwo is a large country—into the Brazils, among
toucans, humming-birds, monkeys, jaguars, pumas, and sloths.
Further north still, among cactuses, aloes, and mighty forests,
where cities in ruins lie buried, and the Victoria lily sleeps upon
the bosom of the lake. Of the southern savages, I saw, and
was not, I can assure you, particularly gratified to see, the
Botocudos, who bear that name (which is Portuguese and means
plugged) because they have invented and put in use the most
utterly hideous and senseless way of abusing the ‘human form
divine’ that ever entered into the debased imagination of a
savage. These miserable, bloodthirsty, predatory creatures cut
open their lips and ears, and insert pieces of wood by way of orna-
ment—not chips, but good big blocks. When they fight with each
other, which is pretty often, they, of course, every now and then,
knock out a bit of wood, and leave pieces of torn flesh hanging.”
Cuap. V. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 83

*“O don’t Fred!” cried Amy ; “I'd rather not hear; and you
shan’t take me to Weissnichtwo, if that is the prettiest thing to
be seen there.”

“Well, we will pass on. The Indians of the Amazon are
not much more attractive, from their tattooing and painting so
much, and I will not tell you, because it is so horrible, what the
Mundrucu I saw had been doing with his enemy’s skull before
he produced it so proudly upon that pole of his. Nor will I say
much about the Caribs, whom I saw using their blow-pipes and
shooting with their arrows at the fishes; nor about the Red
Indians whom I caught in a war-dance, because you can learn
more about them in Mr. Longfellow’s Hiawatha and the notes
to it than I could tell you in any short time. Turning my steps
from this part of Weissnichtwo, I could not help thinking of the
mistake those people make who fancy that the savage state is
the natural state of man, or that he is stronger or healthier in
barbarism. ‘The Kaffre and the Red Indian may run down the
deer and other animals; the Hindoo may keep up with the horse
for days; the South-Sea islander may swim comfortably in a
heavy sea where a. life-boat would hardly venture; but, taking
one thing with the other, civilized man is taller, stronger, and
healthier than savage man. His strength at the loins, or lumbar
power, as it is called, has been repeatedly shown to be greater,
by actual experiment.”

“Tm sure,” said Hetty, “I shouldn’t be pleased to see you,
Fred, like one of those horrid Botocudos, with a wooden lip
besides the natural one. How do Botocudo papas kiss their
babies, I wonder ?”

This made them all laugh; and Fred replied that he should
not like to see Hetty dressed in skins, grubbing about for roots,
or chewing half-cooked buffalo-steak. “But,” he continued,
84 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuar. V,

“after all these disagreeable sights I had pleasanter company
on my way out of Weissnichtwo, I saw a greater number of
bright and beautiful faces of the noble ones of the earth than I
can now recount, though I also saw one or two ugly fellows also.
I saw Aspasia hanging on. the arm of Pericles, while Plato
talked to them both. I saw Maximinus, the Roman Emperor,
who was eight feet high, who wore a woman’s bracelet for a
ring, and could kick a horse dead at one blow ; and oh, at what
a rate the monster was eating! I saw Julius Cesar at his toilet,
combing forward his hair to hide his baldness. I saw Cimarosa,
the Italian musician, who had listened, when he was a baker’s
boy, with the dough in his hand, to the singing, at the keyholes
of Aprili, till Aprili caught him at it and sent him to school. I
saw Blaise Pascal, the great Frenchman, who in his twelfth
year, and without previous instruction, demonstrated Euclid’s
thirty-second proposition, using charcoal upon the floor, when
books and writing materials were denied him lest he should
overwork his brain. I saw Haydn, who, born of very poor and
humble parents, became one of the greatest of musical com-
posers; and Mozart, not so poorly born, but perhaps greater,
who could play and compose music at four years old. I saw
Grace Darling, the heroine of the Northumberland Lighthouse,
with her sweetly noble face of serenest courage, and wished that
I might some day be as noble. I saw Franklin, the printer’s
boy and American Statesman. I saw John Hunter, who was
only a carpenter and could scarcely read at twenty years of age,
but became, before his death, our greatest Comparative Anato-
mist. I saw (listen Amy, and Hetta, and Bella) Mary Somer-
ville, the most scientific lady of our day-——”

“1 shall read her ‘Connexion of the Physical Sciences,’ some
time or other, I hope,” said Amy.
Cuap. V. SINDBAD’S FOURTH JOURNEY. 85

“ Let usread it together,” replied Fred. “I saw, besides, our
great Faraday, who was the son of a poor blacksmith, and is now
the first electrician in Europe. I saw the glorious Washington,
who not only made his own great, unsullied name, but made a
great nation out of a dependency ——”

“‘ What nation?” said Bella.

“ Only America,” replied Fred, with a kind smile. “TI saw,
besides, her most gracious Majesty the Queen and Prince Albert,
and took off my hat to them ; and—and—let’s have the National
Anthem!”

Fred's auditory were a little surprised when he broke off and
gave the first verse of “ God save the Queen ;” but after all his
funny stories there was no accounting for his ways, so they joined
him. The last note was scarcely sung when off he scampered,
calling out, “Come again to-morrow, and I'll tell you more!”

What made him run away like that, I wonder? I fancy
he did not want to be asked any questions about Weissnichtwo,
which is certainly, according to his account of it, a very myste-
rious place indeed! Can you make it out ?
86 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar, VI.

CHAPTER VI.
SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY,

« Apyorntnc Apollo’s lumber-room, as he called it,”—began
Sindbad, in relating his fifth journey,—‘‘T had noticed a sort of
continuation or lobby in which I had no difficulty in recognising
touches of the Rome to which he was not very favourably dis-
posed. For, first of all, I observed that the statues which were
lying about in it had, many of them, more of the encumbrance
of armour than the Greek habitually gave to his; and, secondly,
noticed the presence of the arch, as an architectural feature.
The early Greek was not a soldier; otherwise than as it was
necessary to be so to defend the fatherland, and to complete
his idea of a man: the Roman was a soldier born, and the
mailed hand which grasped the ever-ready sword for perpetual
warfare had a less graceful command of the chisel of the artist,
in consequence. Then, in the train of conquest, followed luxury ;
and the Roman became a mailed, overdressed, perfunctory
animal, whom the Graces visited but seldom, and who stole a great
deal more art and philosophy than he originated. The study of
the human form declined ; the seulptor chiselled emperors, em-
presses, and soldiers, draped and armoured, and laden with
insignia, rather than men and women, or gods and goddesses.
Roman art was a debased copy of the Greek ; and the noblest
things they produced were the Coliseum, or Amphitheatre of
the capital, which was capable of holding 90,000 people to see
the public shows; and their sewers, aqueducts, and roads,
Cuar, VI. SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY. 87

Still, though they were deficient in grace, they made up as well
as they could in magnificence, and I very well remembered
seeing, through the arched doorway that led from Apollo’s
lumber-room to this sequel or out-house,—if I might call it so,—
the walls of rare marble, porphyry, and malachite, with which
the luxurious fellows were glad to adorn their private houses ;
somewhat to the neglect of the temples of the gods, and greatly
to the injury of art; the vulgar taste readily accepting magnifi-
cence in place of elegance. Bobby, boy, do you understand
all this?”

“Yes,” said Bob, with a light over his countenance which
showed that he did,—a little.

“ Then tell me what is the difference between elegance and
magnificence,” replied Fred.

Bob paused a moment or two, bit his lips, blushed, and then,
turning to his little friend, said, “ Bella, you know better than I
do; tell him for me, that’s a good girl; I know, but I can’t
say. I’m afraid of making a stupid of myself.”

“ Well,” answered Bella, “I should say a swan is graceful,
and a peacock is magnificent. A lily is elegant, a tulip is
splendid.”

“ Capital, Bella!” said Fred, and Bobby kissed her hand,
and nestled close to her, more profoundly impressed than ever
with her superior wisdom ; but above all with Fred’s, and with
the gulf between him and the surtout.

“ As for the Arch, which we find in Roman, but not in
Greek architecture, it is a mistake, perhaps, to suppose it
originated with the Romans. The idea has been found just
touched, though not dwelt upon, in architecture more ancient
than that of Greece or Rome. But if the Romans had known
only the Greek way of roofing in,—by a flat block upon
88 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuapr. VI.

pillars, —they could never have managed their sewers, bridges,
and aqueducts, and later Europeans would have had to invent
the arch, unless they had stumbled upon it, as, perhaps, the
Romans themselves did, in their travels. Let us give the
Romans their due, and avoid their vices and mistakes. In fact,
I find it hard to cherish unkindly feelings towards the brave old
fellows, having so recently returned from a visit to one of their
seaside places of resort, now lying in ruins; in fact, from
Pompeii, where I obtained such glimpses of their mode of living
eighteen hundred years ago, that I felt it quite home-like, and
do not now mean to violate the obligations of hospitality by
running down the dead and buried hosts who so obligingly
received me in their dead and buried city.

“The talisman papa had bought, and my punctual friend
the Roe, again served me in good stead, and took me, unassisted,
great part of the way to Pompeii. It was a very pleasant
journey. I enjoyed very much the blue Mediterranean, where
there is so little tide that there is said to be none at all, and
whose ‘ shores are empires,’ as Lord Byron says. Naples looked
very picturesque, under the clear Italian sky, and I did not
lose my temper threading my way through the crowded streets.
True, I sometimes knocked my shins against a carpenter’s bench,
or a maccaroni stall, or a knife-grinder’s truck ; but then there

was Punchinello to amuse me, with the improvisatori or extem-
pore singers, ready to tell me stories in verse and in music off-
hand for a trifle. However, my concern was not with Naples,
nor its beautiful bay, nor the terrible Vesuvius.”
_ “Don’t we get pumice-stone from there?” inquired little
Bobby.

“Yes; when an. eruption of the mountain is on the wane,

the clouds of smoke sent up by the crater change from black to
Cap. VI. SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY. 89

white, and rain down the fine powder which, made into a mass,
you eall pumice-stone.

“On my approaching the ruined and dismantled city, I
could not help recalling the power and the splendour of Rome
at the period when the angry mountain buried Pompeii in fire
and ashes. These ‘boxes,’ or country villas, give no idea, by
themselves, of the nine-story houses of the capital ; and certainly
none of the Golden Palace of Nero, with its mile-long porticoes,
its circular banqueting-room which turned round in imitation of
the planetary motions, its ivory roof which could be opened so
that flowers might be showered down upon the banqueters, and
its golden pipes which conveyed incense to their nostrils or
dropped liquid perfume upon their heads. I had to recall, by
an effort of the imagination, the wide-stretching trade of the
empire, bringing furs from Scythia, amber from the Danube,
tapestries from Babylon, corn and linen from Egypt, balsams
from Arabia, gold and gems from India, silk and porcelain
from China. The recklessness and the luxury of a rich Roman’s
life was only suggested, not shown, by anything here. Pompeii
does not tell, of itself, such stories as that of the patrician, for
whose murder 400 slaves were put to death. Nor of their
luxurious baths, with the attendant ‘rubbers;’ nor of Cesar
and Augustus playing at ball every day before dinner; nor of
privy councils to discuss the best way of cooking a turbot; nor
of snails fed in ponds for eating; nor of slaves flung into the
water to fatten the lampreys; nor of our English oysters, and
nightingale’s brains, and wild boars (by whose taste the eater
could tell in which forest they were bred), served up for dinner.
Nor of cedar and ivory tables, and couches ornamented with
tortoiseshell and covered with purple—nor, in general, of the
splendid life of an ancient Roman in the imperial city. I had
90 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. VI.

to think before I saw the Roman streets crowded with the
palanquins of the wealthy, waggons with corn and oil, jugglers
and serpent-charmers, gladiators on the road to the Coliseum,
slaves, dancing-girls, and Jews.”

“J think should have liked to see the games in the circus,”

_said Bobby.

“ Some of them no doubt you would—but not the barbarous
part; the wrestling, leaping, and horse and foot races were
pleasant enough for any one to look at; but you would not
have liked to see the successful gladiator standing over the
wounded body of his brother, waiting the sign from the multi-
tude which decided whether he should kill him or not (the
thumbs turned downwards meant ‘ spare him;’ upwards, the
contrary) ;—nor Commodus shooting off ostriches’ heads by the
score with arrows tipped with blades in the shape of a cheese-
knife, or crescent. You would not have liked to be present
when the ground was covered with vermilion (as with sawdust at
Astley’s), to hide the blood, and the people were sprinkled with
perfumes, to stifle the odours of death.”

“T have read,” interrupted Amy, “that a monk was once
stoned to death for rushing into the arena to separate two com-
batants.”

“Yes, dear Amy,-so insatiable were these blood-lovers even
when the blood was shed only for their amusement. A much
prettier scene was a Roman funeral. When a Roman died, his
body lay in state in the hall of the house, and a cypress-bough
was hung outside to let people know. There was a long funeral
procession, with musicians, mourning women, and slaves. ‘The
corpse was carried on a gilt or ivory bier, followed by friends
and kinsmen, who gathered round it in the forum, while the
funeral oration was pronounced. ‘The corpse being laid upon a


THE COLISEUM.—GLADIATORIAL SHOWS,—P. 90.
Cnar. VI. SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY. 91

funeral-pile raised near the vault, and sprinkled with perfumes
and flowers, the mourners raised their voices in lamentation,
the musicians played aloud, and the son or heir of the dead
applied a lighted torch. When the corpse was fairly consumed,
wine was poured upon the ashes, and the remains gathered into
the funeral urn. Then, the final farewell was said in these
beautiful words :—‘ Farewell! pure soul! may the earth rest
lightly on thee, may thy ashes lie softly !’—and the mourners,
after being sprinkled with holy water, went away. Can any of
you tell me of a verse in the Bible where that last custom is re-
ferred to?”

After a moment’s reflection, Hetty, who taught a class of
poor children once a-week out of the Scriptures, and knew them
better than most young ladies of her years, repeated 1 Corin-
thians xv. 29, “ Else what shall they do which are baptised for
the dead?”

“ That is the passage, dear Hetty,” said Fred, and continued
his narration.

“JT entered Pompeii by the Gate of Herculaneum, and
looked first at the villa of Diomedes, where the skeletons of
seventeen persons were found in the cellar, seventeen hundred
years after they had been entombed, in the very place to which
they had fled for shelter when the eruption took place. Among
the skeletons was one of a lady ; the impression of her bust yet
remains upon the wall, and jewellery was found upon her wrists
and fingers ; another, found near but not in the villa, was that
of a man who had tried to escape with his keys and money-bags
in his hands. I passed through the Street of Tombs, where
were found the little monumental chambers, yet containing the
tributes of affection left there by mourners upon their visits to
the urns of beloved relations. ‘Then I came to a gateway in
92 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. VI.

ruins, which is immortal for its lesson of duty to you, to me, to
any one. In a sentry-box at the side of this gate, or ‘ Bar,’ as
our ancestors would have called it, was found the skeleton of
the sentinel, who, hearing no trumpet-call to relieve him from
his duty, died at his post, lance in hand, undismayed by the
horrible shape in which the destroyer came. I passed on,
through the narrow streets, crowded with little houses, shops
with signs outside to indicate the wares sold, drinking-places
with the marks of the rims of the wine-cups left in stains upon
the marble counter. The paved roads were bordered with foot-
paths of lime, earth, and gravel intermixed. One of the signs
was adapted to make dunces tremble—it was that of a school,
and was neither more nor less than a rude painting of a boy
being whipped on the back of another. How ruthless and
plain-spoken the old Romans were!

“The Romans were clever at fresco-painting ; but outline-
drawing was their forte; in the colouring department they did
not excel. In a ruined building, known as the Tragic Poet’s
house, I found some very fine specimens of painting upon the
walls, the scenes and characters being chiefly mythological or
poetical. I saw what is supposed to have been the house of the
historian Sallust, and another called the House of the Vestals
—both being very prettily decorated, with an eye to lightness
and cheerfulness of effect, the figures being painted high up in
the panels of the walls to give an aérial appearance, which
would have been missed by painting them in the centres. In
the House of the Vestals the corn-mills remained as they were,
ready for the hand of the grinder, when the city was buried ;
while oil in glass vessels, chestnuts, dates, raisins, and figs, lay
in the next room stored up for winter use, and large amphore
of wine waited in the racks cut for them to stand in. The
Cuar. VI. SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY. 93

private rooms were girt with beautiful porticoes, and the garden
was very pretty. Along the sides were the cabinets and toilets
of the young girls, filled with female ornaments, and one con-
taining the skeleton of a dog. In the sacrarium, or inner and
sacred room, adorned with statues in niches, stood the altar, on
which the fire had been kept perpetually burning by the maidens,
till a fire over which they had no power, either to feed or to
stay, burst forth from Vesuvius, and quenched in its attendant
cloud the life and the light of many thousand homes at once !
From this mournful place I went on till I reached the Public
Baths, now a rubbish-encumbered ruin, once a cheerful resort
for the men and women of the city, and for the visitors in the
seaside season. Evidently, from the completeness and variety
of the arrangements, bathing had been a favourite recreation
at Pompeii. Close to the Baths I found the Forum, where
the people had once gone for gossip and promenade, as well as
for political discussion and excitement. Paved with marble,
dotted with statues, and surrounded by temples, with an open
gallery overhead on one side for loungers to sit in, it was un-
questionably a very nice place to go to in idle moments, under
a warm Italian sky; and you must not forget that the Romans
and Greeks were not in-door people. Hence, their houses were
show-places rather than abodes of comfort. In the summer
they were close; in the winter, heated by log fires or braziers,
and without chimneys, they were chilly and smoky. In the
vaults of the Basilica, or court of justice, which was near the
Public Granary, I knew that there had been found the skeletons
of two prisoners with iron fetters on their legs; and in a vaulted
den underneath the Circus the remains of a lion who was de-
tained there, perhaps for a game on the morrow! Compara-
tively so few bodies, altogether, have been found in Pompeii,
94. THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Onap, VI.

that, though little more than half the city has been excavated,
we infer that the immense majority of the inhabitants must
have escaped, as the younger Pliny did, who has told the story
of the eruption, and of his uncle’s death, in two letters to
Tacitus. The city is supposed to have contained at the time
about 25,000 people. In thought, I reproduced and stood look-
ing at one of their white, plain, peaceful-seeming houses, from
the street. I entered the daorway, with the doorkeeper’s
lodges on each side; and, haying no felonious designs, was
not alarmed at the notice, inlaid in the mosaic pavement, ‘Cave
Canem’—beware of the dog. Now I was in the atrium, or
outer hall. I noticed how light and sunshiny everything
seemed; I heard the trickling of the fountain, and the voices
of the servants in the further chambers. The master of the
house might be asleep, or at the baths, or lounging in the
forum. The mistress might be in the interior, watching her
maidens at their spinning. It was certainly a nice plan to have
this large common room for visitors; and it was kind to put
the Salve! or ‘welcome,’ down in the mosaic of the flooring.
That marble basin is the cmpluvium, which receives the rain
from that opening in the roof called the compluvium. All
round the court I observe the small cubicula, or sleeping-
rooms in general; and I notice a couple of wings or recesses, on
opposite sides, into which knots of visitors might retire to talk
over any little private matter of business. Farther on is the
tablinum, or drawing-room, where family treasures of all kinds
are kept, only I have to lift a curtain to get into it. Iam
taking a liberty in guing thus far, for I have no special invita-
tion from the host to enter his private apartments. Never
mind! I proceed to take a peep at the peristyle, with its
columns painted red half way up, and at the funny, formal, little
Cuap. VI. SINDBAD’S FIFTH JOURNEY. 95

flower-garden. On one side are the ¢ricliniwm or winter
dining-room ; another triclinium for summer use ; and farther
on, the little kitchen. I pass the household altar, and, going
round the other side, I find the dressing-room (vestiarium)
and hath-room (balneum), and beyond this the principal bed-
room, the thalamus, where the master slept. I peep inside; he
is not there. In fact, though I heard voices, I have seen no-
body. Can everybody be out? Where is the dog against
which I was warned? And where is the slave whose duty it
was to challenge me on entering? Did I not catch the steam
of the cookery going on in the kitchen ?”

At this moment, Fred happening to cast his eye on Bob, Bob
fancied he was speaking to him; so he replied, very mildly—
“I don’t know I’m sure ;’—which produced such a roar of
laughter that it was found impossible to get up the interest
again. Amy moved an adjournment, which, after being seconded
by everybody but Fred, was carried by acclamation, and Hind-
bad went off abashed, arm-in-arm with Bella, who compassion-
ated him for his mistake. Fred was just getting excited and
poetical, and there is no telling what development of his story
might have come next, if he had not been so comically inter-
rupted by the innocent Bobby.
96 THE SYDENITAM SINDBAD. Cuar. VII.

CHAPTER VII.
SINDBAD’S SIXTH JOURNEY.

Tue little party seemed more talkative than usual on reassem-
bling to-day, for the purpose of hearing Sindbad relate his
sixth journey. Amy and Hetty had been turning over together
some history of the Cid, and of his exploits in the wars of the
Spaniards against the Moors, when they were settled in Spain
in proximity with the Christians. For some time a brisk chat
went on all round the circle about how funny it must have been,
when the mosques and the churches were side by side in the same
city, and how creditable it was to the Mahommedan Moors,
when masters of the country in such barbarous times, to be so
tolerant. How, nevertheless, they did do barbarous things,
when the Prophet was openly spoken against—barbarous even
to the beheading of two Christian maidens who had the daring
to go to the cadi for the express purpose of abusing his religion
to his teeth, and boasting of their Christianity. How El Cid
Campeador rose up to be a champion of the Christians, and
routed the Moors in countless battles, cutting off the heads of
five kings before his marriage. How a maiden named Ximena,
whose father he had slain, and who had at first asked the king
to avenge her by putting Ruy Diaz to death, and who after-
wards complained of his rudeness to her when she went out
hawking, came at last to be so fond of him, and so taken with
his bravery, that she went and asked the king to give her the
Cid in marriage. How the king complied, and how the Cid
was married to Ximena in “ a doublet of dove-coloured satin,
Crap, VII. SINDBAD’S SIXTH JOURNEY. 97

light scarlet hose, and slashed shoes of yellow silk; a short
jacket with sleeves closely plaited beneath the shoulder ; a folded
handkerchief hanging from his girdle, which was adorned with
gilt studs and clasps of silver; a collar of gold and precious
stones about his neck, and, over all, a short black cloak with
hood and sleeves.” How, at the wedding, the streets of Burgos
“ were strewed with boughs of sweet cypress—how flowered
cloths were hung from the windows—how the king had raised
a festive arch at great expense—how minstrels played in honour
of the newly-married pair—and how buffoons and merry-
andrews danced and played antics, one with bladders in hand,
another in the disguise of a bull, and a third in the likeness of a
demon, to whom the king gave sixteen marayedis” (about eight-
pence), for this graceless reason, namely, that he had frightened
the ladies well! How Saint Lazarus appeared to Ruy Diaz in
the disguise of a wretched leper, and, when Ruy had succoured
him, appeared to him again in a blessed vision, promising him
victory over all his foes for ever. How Ximena went and com-
plained to the king that the husband he had bestowed upon her
(she forgot that she had herself asked for him, with a full know-
ledge of his propensities) was always away at the wars, while
she languished, unprotected and alone, at home. How St. Peter
appeared to Ruy Diaz thirty days before he died, and foretold
that even his dead body should gain a victory over the Moors.
How his corpse did not decay, but was borne forth on the back
of his good steed Babieca, with his sword of might 'Tizona in
his right hand, by torchlight at dead of night, to fight the Moors,
who were totally routed, thinking it was the live Cid; and
moreover because seventy thousand Christian warriors, whom
no one could account for, were at daybreak found fighting on
the side of the Christians, all dressed in snowy-white, with St.
G
98 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, VII.

James on a white charger at their head, bearing on his breast a
cross of crimson, and in his hand a sword of fire. How the body
of the Cid sat, for ten years, in rich clothing, hard by the altar,
in the chapel of San Pedro de Cardena, on his accustomed seat
of cloth of gold, with Tizona in his hand, and a yearly festival
was held in his honour. How an unbelieving Jew, entering the
chapel, undismayed by the Cid’s awful brow and long white
beard, reached forth his hand to touch the said beard, and how
the dead Cid then and there drew his sword a full span from its
sheath, which so mightily terrified the Jew that he fell down to the
earth in a swoon, and immediately on his recovering his senses
avowed his conversion, and delayed not to become a Christian
and a monk. How the hero was at last quietly buried—how his
remains were several times disturbed, and how they were at last
replaced with great solemnity in the chapel of San Pedro de
Cardena, where they lie, along with those of his wife, his two
daughters and sons-in-law, and his first-cousin and fellow-sol-
dier, Alvar Faiez Minaya—with other matters equally enter-
taining to young people, and especially to young ladies like
Amy and Hetty.

Fred allowed the conversation to proceed for some time, and
cheerfully took part in it himself. “For,” said he, when he
resumed the thread, if thread it might be called, of his travels,
“your talk about the Cid is not wholly unconnected with what
I am going to tell youto-day. Indeed, all you have been saying
passed through my mind as I made the journey of which I am
about to tell you, to the Palace of the Moors in Spain.

“TI am happy to say,” he continued, “ that, though Spain has
a very bad character for thieves, and for uncleanliness, and for
dishonest innkeepers, I got to the Alhambra without being
robbed, without being obliged to change my clothes on the road,






wage

Lay

yy



SPAIN.—THE ALHAMBRA.—P, 99.
Cuar. VII. SINDBAD’S SIXTH JOURNEY, 99

and without being overcharged at a single hotel. That is the
beauty of having a talisman and a Roc to fly to, and to fly by,
in case of need. Well, I will not detain you with any talk about
cork-trees and orange-trees, or about the beauty of the country
in general which I had to traverse, or the beauty of Granada in
particular. Granada, you know, where the Alhambra is situated,
contains a greater variety of climate than almost any similar
space in the whole world. The snow stays on its mountains all
the year round, while the sugar-cane and the palm-tree flourish
in the vales. The whole region is exquisitely beautiful. The
Moors did not cross the Straits of Gibraltar, into Europe, till
A.D. 711; but au Arabian poet speaks of a Moorish castle in
864 upon the hill of the Alhambra: indeed it is scarcely possible
to say when there was not a tower or palace upon this spot, so
beautifully and invitingly placed, and with so magnificent a pros-
pect stretching all round it. - I have here the description given
by Washington Irving, and am sure you will be glad to hear it.
‘The city of Granada,’ he says, ‘ covered two lofty hills, and a
deep valley that divides them, through which flows the river
Douro. .One of these hills was crowned by the royal palace and
fortress of the Alhambra, capable of containing forty thousand
men within its walls and towers. Never was there an edifice
accomplished in a superior style of barbaric magnificence ; and
the stranger who, even at the present day, wanders among its
silent and deserted courts and ruined halls, gazes with astonish-
ment at its gilded and fretted domes and luxurious decorations,
still retaining their brilliancy and beauty in defiance of the
ravages of time. Opposite to the hill on which stood the Al-
hambra was its rival hill, on the summit of which was a spacious
plain, covered with houses, and crowded with inhabitants. The
declivities and skirts of the two hills were covered with houses
G2
100 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. VII.

to the number of seventy thousand, separated by narrow streets
and small squares, according to the custom of Moorish cities.
The houses had interior courts and gardens, refreshed by foun-
tains and running streams, and set out with oranges, citrons,
and pomegranates ; so that, as the edifices of the city rose above
each other on the sides of the hill, they presented a mingled
appearance of city and grove delightful to the eye. The whole
was surrounded by high walls, three leagues in circuit, with
twelve gates, and fortified by a thousand and thirty towers.
The elevation of the city, and the neighbourhood of the Sierra
Nevada, crowned with perpetual snows, tempered the fervid rays
of the summer; and thus, while other cities were panting with
the sultry and stifling heat of the dog-days, the most salubrious
breezes played through the marble halls of Granada. The glory
of the city, however, was its vega or plain, which spread out to
a circumference of thirty-seven leagues, surrounded by lofty
mountains. It was a vast garden of delight, refreshed by
numerous fountains, and by the silver windings of the Xenil.
The labour and ingenuity of the Moors had diverted the waters
of this river into thousands of rills and streams, and diffused them
over the whole surface of the plain. Indeed, they had wrought
up this happy region to a degree of wonderful prosperity, and
took a pride in decorating it, as if it had been a favourite mis-
tress. The hills were clothed with orchards and vineyards, the
valleys embroidered with gardens, and the wide plains covered
with waving grain. Here were seen in profusion the orange,
the citron, the fig, and pomegranate, with large plantations of
mulberry-trees, from which was produced the finest of silk. The
vine clambered from tree to tree, the grapes hung in rich clusters
about the peasants’ cottages, and the groves were rejoiced by
the perpetual song of the nightingale. In a word, so beautiful
Cuar. VII. SINDBAD’S SIXTH JOURNEY. 101

was the earth, so pure the air, and so serene the sky of this
delicious region, that the Moors imagined the paradise of their
prophet to be situate in that part of the heaven which overhung
the kingdom of Granada.’

The exterior of the Alhambra itself was not prepossessing—
it seemed very plain. On the outer arch of the Gate of Justice,
or principal entrance, I saw an open hand, which was a type of
the five duties of the Mussulman—the fast of Ramadan, the
pilgrimage to Mecca, almsgiving, ablution, and war against the
infidel. On the inner arch was a sculptured key, and the story
goes that the Moors boasted that the gates would never open to
an invader until the hand over one should clutch the key over
the other. They erred, as men will err. A woman’s quarrel
originated dissensions which ended the Moorish dominion in
Spain, and the Christian flag was hoisted on the Torre de la
Vela; where’a bell, which can be heard thirty miles off, is even
now rung every second of January in memory of the surrender
of the city to the arms of Ferdinand and Isabella. Washington
Irving draws a touching picture of the departure of Boabdil from
his palace, and this, too, I will read to you:—‘ Having surren-
dered the last symbol of power, the unfortunate Boabdil con-

tinued on towards the Alpuxares, that he might not behold the .

entrance of the Christians into his capital. His devoted band
of cavaliers followed him in gloomy silence; but heavy sighs
burst from their bosoms as shouts of joy and strains of tri-
umphant music were borne on the breeze from the victorious
army. Having rejoined his family, Boabdil set forward with a
heavy heart for his allotted residence in the valley of Porchena.
At two leagues’ distance, the cavalcade, winding into the skirts
of the Alpuxares, ascended an eminence commanding the last
view of Granada. As they arrived at this spot, the Moors
a3
102 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar, VII.

paused involuntarily to take a farewell gaze at their beloved
city, which a few steps more would shut from their sight for ever.
Never had it appeared so lovely in their eyes. The sunshine,
so bright in that transparent climate, lighted up each tower and
minaret, and rested gloriously upon the crowning battlements of
the Alhambra; while the vega spread its enamelled bosom of
verdure below, glistening with the silver windings of the Xenil.
The Moorish cavaliers gazed with a silent agony of tenderness
and grief upon that delicious abode, the scene of their loves and
pleasures. While they yet looked, a light cloud of smoke burst
forth from the citadel, and presently a peal of artillery, faintly
heard, told that the city was taken possession of, and the throne
of the Moslem kings was lost for ever. The heart of Boabdil,
softened by misfortunes and overcharged with grief, could no
longer contain itself. ‘ Allah achbar !—(God is great !)” said
he; but the words of resignation died upon his lips, and he burst
into a flood of tears. His mother, the intrepid Sultana Ayxa la
Horra, was indignant at his weakness. “You do well,” said
she, ‘to weep like a woman for what you failed to defend like
a man!” The vizier, Aben Comixa, endeavoured to console
his royal master. ‘Consider, sire,” said he, “that the most
signal misfortunes often render men as renowned as the most
prosperous achievements, provided they sustain them with mag-
nanimity.” ‘The unhappy monarch, however, was not to be
consoled. His tears continued to flow. “ Allah achbar!” ex-
claimed he; “ when did misfortunes ever equal mine?” From
this circumstance the hill, which is not far from Padul, tock the
name of Feg Allah Achbar; but the point of view commanding
the last prospect of Granada is known among Spaniards by the
name of El ultimo suspiro del Moro, or, “The last sigh of the
Moor.” ’
Car. VII. SINDBAD’S SIXTH JOURNEY. 103

“ But the Moors had not obtained a footing in Europe for
nothing. They were a highly civilised and cultivated people.
They brought with them the philosophy of Aristotle, chemistry,
algebra, astronomy, the art of rhyming, the telegraph, our
present system of notation, and, perhaps, the basis of ‘ Gothic’
architecture, besides many mechanical discoveries and medical
appliances. Some-of our common chemical terms are Arabic.”

“T know!” cried Bob; “ adkalt, for instance.”

“Yes, and alembic. Their dwelling-houses were marvels of
delicate constructive skill. ‘While little attention,’ says a
great writer, whose words I have copied out for you, ‘com-
paratively, was bestowed by the Moors on the exterior of their
mansions, on the furniture and accommodation within every-
thing was lavished that could promote luxurious ease and
personal comfort. Their rooms were so contrived that no
reverberation of sound was heard. The light was generally
admitted in such a manner as, by excluding external prospects,
to confine the admiration of the spectator chiefly to the orna-
ments and beauties of the interior. Their arrangements for
ventilation were admirable ; and by means of caleducts, or tubes
of baked earth, warm air was admitted, so as to preserve a
uniform temperature. ‘The utmost labour and skill were ex-
pended in embellishing the walls and ceilings. The tiles had
a blue glazing over them. Their paving bricks were made of
different colours—blue, white, black, or yellow, which, when
properly contrasted, had a very agreeable effect. Nothing is
more astonishing than the durability of the Moorish edifices.
The stucco composition on their walls became hard as stone ;
and even in the present century, specimens are found without
a crack or flaw on their whole surface. Their woodwork also
still remains in a state of wonderful preservation. The floors
104: THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, VII.

and ceilings of the Alhambra have withstood the neglect and
dilapidation of nearly seven hundred years: the pine-wood
continues perfectly sound, without exhibiting the slightest mark
of dry-rot, worm, or insect. The coat of white paint retains its
colour, so bright and rich that it may be mistaken for mother-
of-pearl.’ Again, ‘The pontanos or reservoirs of Spain were
either erected or restored by the Moors. Their palaces and
mosques were furnished with capacious cisterns. The gardens
of the Alhambra contained sheets of water, in the surface of
which the buildings were reflected ; and in most of the prin-
cipal cities fountains played in the streets, as well as in the
courts of the houses, by which the atmosphere was attempered
during summer. In the famous palace of Toledo was a pond,
in the midst of which rose a vaulted room of stained glass,
adorned with gold. Into this room the caliph could enter un-
touched by the water, and sit, while a cascade poured from
above, with tapers burning before“him.’ If the Moor knew, as
he must have done, his superiority in science, in art, and in
taste, to the Christians whom he left in possession, he might well
sigh on taking his farewell of Granada the beautiful. But
Providence knows best, and the Moor was sent back over the
Straits again, after having done his work, only because there
were elements in the rude Christian civilization which would
get on better without him than with him.

“Tt was with the deepest interest that I found myself within
the walls of the Alhambra. The style of ornament employed
by the builders was gorgeous and fairy-like almost beyond
belief. The leading colours—blue, red, and yellow—were so
employed as to produce the most exquisite music to the eye,
with but little aid from the secondaries, purple, green, and
orange. The honeycomb pendants of the roofs and archways
Cuar. VII. SINDBAD’S SIXTH JOURNEY. 105

are only made of prisms joined by their sides upon mathema-
tical principles, by means of which an inconceivable variety is
placed at the disposal of the artist. Some of the devices I
observed harmonised use and beauty in a most striking manner ;
for instance, an ante-gallery is supported by tall columns, which
are very light indeed ; but, lest they should seem unequal to
the weight resting upon them, the spandrils are lightened by
perforated ornaments, which, at the same time, serve the more
important end of ventilation. The domed ceiling of the Hall
of Ambassadors is covered with golden ornaments on a ground
of red and blue. The window-recesses look like side-chapels,
so immensely thick are the walls. In the Court of Lions, a
hundred pillars of white marble support a portico on each side,
and, though they are so slight that they seem unequal to the
support of the archway, ‘five hundred years of neglect have
not destroyed the slight, fairy thing of filigree, which has not
even the appearance of durability.’ The fountain in the centre
is a twelve-sided basin of alabaster, resting on the backs of
twelve lions, which look, I must say, as if they had had their
feet cut off, and they were standing on the bare stumps of their
legs. Around the basin is this inscription :—‘ Blessed be He
who gave the Imam Mohammed a mansion which in beauty
excels all other mansions ; and if not so, here is a garden which
contains wonders of art, the like of which God forbid should
elsewhere be found. Look at this solid mass of pearl, glis-
tening all around, and spreading through the air its shower of
prismatic bubbles, which fall within a circle of silvery froth,
and flow amidst other jewels, surpassing everything in beauty,
nay, exceeding the marble itself in whiteness and transparency.
To look at the basin one would imagine it to be a mass of
solid ice, and the water to melt from it, yet it is impossible to
106 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. VII,

say which of the two is really flowing. Seest thou not how the
water from above flows on the surface, notwithstanding the
current underneath strives to oppose its progress—like a lover
whose eyelids are pregnant with tears, and who suppresses
them for fear of an informer? For, truly, what else is this
fountain but a beneficent cloud, pouring out its abundant sup-
plies on the lions underneath, like the hands of the Caliph,
when he rises in the morning to distribute plentiful rewards
among his soldiers, the lions of war?’ Now here comes some-
thing that made me laugh, considering what very queer
creatures the lions are:—‘O thou, who beholdest these lions
crouching, fear not—life is wanting to enable them to show
their fury? and the inscription concludes, like everything
Mohammedan, with a benediction.”

“T think,” observed Hetty, “do not you? that while we
smile at the simple Oriental egotism which makes a work of art
tell its own story in so many words in that fashion, we might
advantageously copy the Oriental devoutness which carried
religion into everything.”

“Hetty, you are a dear good girl, and we all love you,”
replied Fred. “The Court of Lions opens into the Hall of
Abencerrages, where my guide showed me some stains which,
he said, were caused by the blood of the Abencerrages whom
Boabdil slew there. And, at the other end I saw a Hall,
where the ceiling is painted with Moors unhorsing Christian
knights, or boar hunting, or playing at draughts; a captive
lady leading a chained lion, or ladies looking down from castle
towers upon Christian knights; and other romantic subjects.
But, as the Mussulman was not allowed to paint the human
figure, and had to turn the letters of the Koran into ornaments
for his walls, these paintings were most likely done by some
Cuap. VII. SINDBAD’S SIXTH JOURNEY. 107

Christian who was well bribed, or perhaps was set to do that as
the price of his life. In the Hall of the Sisters I saw another of
those Oriental bits of self-praise which are so amusing to the
modern English mind. ‘Look attentively at my elegance,’
said an inscription... . ‘here are columns ornamented with every
decoration, and the beauty of which has become proverbial—
columns which when struck by the sun one might fancy to be so
many blocks of pearl, notwithstanding their colossal dimensions ;
indeed, we never saw a palace more lofty in its interior, or having
more extensive apartments. On the wall of a boudoir of the
Sultana were the words ‘ Praise be to God! Delicately have
the fingers of the artist embroidered my robe, after setting the
jewels of my diadem; people compare me to the throne of
a bride; yet I surpass it in this; that I can secure the
felicity of those who possess me; for if any one approach me,
complaining of thirst, he will receive in exchange cool and
limpid water, sweet, without admixture.’ ‘Ill-fated was the
man,’ exclaimed Charles V., ‘who lost all this!’ And so
think the Moors to this day, believing as they do that they still
possess, somewhere or other, the title-deeds of what their fathers
lost. However, standing in the Court of Lions, I could fancy
the fountains at play again; I could hear the trickling of the
water; I could catch the odour of roses; I could fancy the
sunset-red deepening, or the white moonlight softening, the
prismatic colouring of the place—but the one thing I could not
do was to fancy the Moor back again. My. fancy does not
take to tawny people. The tinkling of a guitar, and the
click-click of a castanet, which I heard through an open window,
were both modern and Spanish; and, remembering I had
promised to copy the music of the cachucha for Amy, I quitted
the Alhambra, and making the best of my way across the
108 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. VII.

Pyrenees, without being molested by either wolves or brigands,
took the Roc, which I found in waiting as usual, and came
home. Amy knows I copied her the music that evening.
Here ends the sixth journey of Sindbad.” To-morrow, he will
relate to you the seventh, if you will come and hear it.
Citar, VIII. SINDBAD’S SEVENTI. JOURNEY. 109

CHAPTER VII.

SINDBAD’S SEVENTH JOURNEY.

“Tur me see, Hindbad, how many journeys did Sindbad
make ?”

Thus spoke Fred to Bob, when his audience was once more
gathered together to hear the story of his travels.

“Why, seven,”’ said Bob, “and this will be your seventh, you
know. And we mean to find you out too, this time,” he con-
tinued, nodding at Bella, and collecting his courage for a bold
speech,

“Find me out, little boy,” cries Fred, with mock defiance,—
“how dare you? What do you mean by talking of findmg me
out?”

‘“‘T mean, we know all about it. You’ve been and told us
a heap of things, but they’re not all true.”

“Every word true, Bobby mine, every word,” said Fred, with
great dignity, and the air of a young gentleman whose honour
as well as learning had been impugned.

“Not true, as you've told it though, Mr. Fred, I know,”
replied Bob, “and Bella and I are going to expose your tricks
this time.”

“ We will proceed,” said Fred, setting his collar in a manner
which stabbed Bobby to the inmost heart—“ We will proceed
with Our Adventures; and if any lady or gentleman should have
comments to make, or questions to ask, We shall be happy to
hear them at the close of the proceedings, according to the
usual practice of public assemblies.”

H
110 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cap. VIII.

“ But this isn’t a public assembly,” interposed Amy, bent on
mischief.

“Then it ought to be,” said Fred, “and what’s more,
perhaps it will be.—Shortly after my last journey, I read in a
very ancient Book the story of a prophet who was sent to pre-
dict the downfall of ‘an exceeding great city,’ and how he
rested under a gourd outside the walls to see what would
become of it, and how cruelly angry he was, when the city was
spared on account of its repentance. In the same Book I had
read the story of Nebuchadnezzar, who set up the golden
image, and of Belshazzar the impious, who was slain in the
midst of his revelry the night when Cyrus forded the Euphrates,
and took the brazen-gated city with its hanging gardens and
glorious palaces, and the golden altar of Belus. In the same
Book I had read of Sennacherib slain at the altar of Nisroch,
and of his army destroyed by the avenger, upon the tented
plain, And I remembered, as I read, the grand sacred lyric of
Byron,—you know it, Hetty?”

“ O yes,” said Hetty, and repeated it:—

‘The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
‘When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

‘ Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen :
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

‘For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breath’d in the face of the foe as he passed ;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still,
Cnap. VIII, SINDBAD’S SEVENTH JOURNEY. 111

‘ And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roiled not the breath of his pride ;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

‘ And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown.

‘ And the widows of Asshur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!’ ”

“ Thank you, Hetty,” continued Fred. “I remembered
how Ninus built Nineveh, with a wall 100 feet high, so thick
that three chariots could be driven abreast upon it, and 1500
towers 200 feet high. I remembered how he made Semiramis,
the wife of one of his captains, his own wife, for her bravery in
scaling the fortifications of the Bactrian capital. I remembered
how this wonderful woman, after her husband Ninus had died,
herself invaded India with 300,000 camels, covered with the
skins of black oxen to terrify the Indians, and was wounded and
repulsed, and then slain by her own son. I remembered Sar-
danapalus, who, pressed by the rebellious Medes, set fire to his
palace with his own hands, and was burnt to death with his
wives and his treasures. I remembered the enormous city, sixty
miles round, or, as Jonah calls it, three days’ journey, and
capable, by the extent of the land which its walls enclosed, of
feeding its whole population. I remembered that in the plains
of the Tigris and Euphrates the first cities were built, and that
the kings who went up against Sodom came from there. I made
up my mind to go and see what remained of Nineveh, and of the
Babylon after whose erection into a kingly city Nineveh de-

H2
112 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, VIII.

clined. I did not expect to see much, for I knew very well
that Nineveh had perished—that when Xenophon and his army
passed over its site, they found no trace of it remaining; and,
not alone from Jewish prophets, but from travellers too, I knew
that ‘ Babylon, the glory of the kingdoms, the beauty of the
Chaldees’ excellency, had become as when God overthrew
Sodom and Gomorrah, a possession for the bittern and pools of
water.’ Still, I thought I should like to visit the Tigris, and,
not to detain you with trifles, I made use of the talisman and
the obliging Roc again, and went.”

“* You call that a trifle, do you—how you got to the site of
the Assyrian capital, Mr. Fred?” said Amy.

“ Unquestionably a trifle,’ says Fred, with the most jaunty
air in the world. “It’s as easy as counting sticks in a row, or
carping and being saucy, like Amy. I tell you—don’t 1?—I
went to the banks of the Tigris, and that the journey there was
so easy that I need not trouble you with details. I was not shot
by any of the rascally Kurds who abound in the neighbourhood,
and rob every traveller they can—indeed, my talisman would
not have been of much use to them. The tents of the Arabs,
round which the children played with the colts, made a pretty
sight; and I ventured to ask one civil-looking fellow where-
abouts Nineveh was? He said something about ruins, and the
Tomb of Jonah, and Ghouls; and, plainly showing that he had
a superstitious dread of going too near what remained, if any-
thing, of the great city, he diverged into a story of Nimrod,
‘the mighty hunter before the Lord.’ ‘ Once upon a time,’
said he, ‘when Abraham broke the king’s idols, Nimrod
threatened to slay him, and Abraham prayed to God, and said
“ Deliver me, O God, from this man, who worships stones, and
boasts himself to be the lord of all creatures!” And God said
Cuap. VIII. SINDBAD’S SEVENTH JOURNEY. 1138

unto Abraham, “ How shall I punish him?” And Abraham
answered and said, “ Unto thee, O God, armies and the
strength and might of men are as nought; yea, they will perish
and die and be seen no more at thy bidding, even before the
smallest of the creatures of thy hand.” Now God was pleased
with this saying of Abraham; and to show that the smallest of
his creatures could punish the greatest of kings, God sent a
little buzzing fly, to follow Nimrod night and day, in his down-
sitting and his up-rismg; and the fly vexed him sore, so that he
was ready to die. ‘Then Nimrod built himself a room of glass
in his palace, and dwelt therein by day and by night, and
thought by such means to shut out the little fly. But God
ordained so that the little fly found an entrance likewise, and
tormented him unceasingly as it had done before, so that he
blasphemed God, and hated his life. Moreover, the little fly
entered by the ear of Nimrod into his brain, where it made
itself a nest, and fed and grew and nourished itself; and still
Nimrod repented not. ‘Then his servants beat his head with a
hammer continually to deaden the pain and torment of the little
fly; and so he lived for four hundred years, seeking death and
finding it not. But at last he died, cursing God, and leaving
behind him a memory terrible to the oppressor of men and the
blasphemer of heaven.—Allah Bismillah! God is great!’—I
felt indebted to my Arab friend for this story, which, however
false, had not only its moral of retribution, but showed how
deeply a man’s conduct may impress itself upon the world he
fancies he is wholly leaving when he dies. However, I did not
go to the Tigris for stories of Nimrod, but to see Nineveh. At
present, I had seen nothing but the melancholy desert, and the
mounds which vary its surface here and there. I call the
desert melancholy, although it was now in its spring bloom, and
114 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. VIII.

covered with flowers; for the short-lived beauty comes and goes
almost in a day.”

“ He cometh forth as a flower and is cut down,” repeated
Hetty to herself. “ Flowers,” thought she, “are short-lived
everywhere, but here they seem to be things of an hour.”—Fred
continued—

“ Starting at the ery of a bittern, I found the scene changed
as if by enchantment. But I remembered where I was——”

“ Where were you?” slily demanded Bobby. There was evi-
dently a conspiracy to-day.

“ The East, Bob, you clever fellow, is the land of enchant-
ment. Do not ask so many questions—I say I remembered
where I was, and was not surprised to see before me the front
of an Assyrian temple, or palace—for it is probable that temple
and palace were interchangeable words among the Assyrians.
The lowest portion of the front of this wonderful building was
formed of winged human-headed bulls, and gigantic human
figures. Upon the bulls were inscriptions in the arrow-headed
character of the time, mentioning the name of Sargon (Isaiah
xx.), who is supposed to be identical with that Shalmaneser
who destroyed Samaria and carried away the ten tribes. The
winged human-headed bulls probably represent, in some way,
the Assyrian ideas of God, wisdom being signified by the man’s
head; power by the bull’s body; and omnipresence by the
bird’s wings. I wonder whether the ‘ arrow head’ of the writing
is only a sacred triangle, having something to do with their
ideas of the Trinity ?—The four sacred types of Assyrian sculp-
ture seem to have been a man, a lion, an ox, and an eagle ;
and Ezekiel, who prophesied on the banks of the Assyrian river
Chebar, describes the ‘ living creatures’ he saw in his vision as
having those faces. A horrid-looking fellow, with a whip in his
Cuar. VIII. SINDBAD’S SEVENTH JOURNEY. 115

hand, who was strangling a lion, I took to be the Assyrian
Hercules ; only he was certainly more laughable than terrible
in my eyes; and, oh, how funny their notions of perspective
must have been in those times! All the queer animals have
five legs; a device by which the artist fancied he was giving
you at once a front and a side view. J think Bobby knows
better than that?”

“ Bobby’s drawing-master says he draws very nicely,” said
Bella.“ I won’t have him run down.”

* T don’t mean to doso. Bobby will be cleverer than any of
us some day, I know very well, and Pll do all I can to help
him.—Above the basement rose columns of a very pretty but
peculiar kind—the capitals being made of kneeling bulls, back
to back. The painted flowers on the cornice, honeysuckles and
tulips, were more nicely done than you would have expected
from the horrid figure cut by the man with the lion. I have
not done laughing at the lion’s face yet—it looked like a crying
baby’s in a night-cap.

“ Flanking the narrow entrance to the Central Hall I found
a pair of human-headed bulls seventeen feet high. The ceiling
bore paintings of the sacred tree (which probably had some
traditionary reference to the tree of life), the winged emblem
of the Assyrian Deity, and also the winged globe, which, as
in Egypt, was probably significant of all-watching Providence.
The columns supporting the roof appeared to be made of cedar-
wood.

“To my left hand, on going in, I saw a curious group of
figures, representing the king, in his conical turban or tiara,
resting his hand on a long staff, and waited upon by two
winged figures, one on each side; each holding a pime-cone and
a square can with a handle. There is no telling what these
116 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cnap. VIII.

winged figures are—perhaps minor guardian deities—at all
events, the king was the only person attended by them in the
Assyrian sculptures which I saw. Considering that the leading
idea of Assyrian art seemed to be power, as that of Grecian art
was beauty, I could not help wondering at the effeminately orna-
mental getting-up of this monarch, with his ear-rings, bracelets,
embroidered and tasselled robe, and fantastically curled hair.
What a contrast to the miserable slaves employed in building
their tremendous edifices! When we admire the stupendous
character of ancient art, we should never forget the millions of
wretched lives which the ruling classes poured out like water
upon works raised for their own praise and glory or gratifi-
cation.

“ Further on I saw a group of two men bringing tribute to
the king; one of them with a couple of monkeys. Close by
were two winged creatures, one of which bore a fallow-deer in
one hand and a flower in the other. The second figure had an
eagle’s head, and I supposed it to be the god Nisroch. Through-
out this Central Hall I saw the same class of figures repeated in
various groupings: the king waited on, the king resting on his
bow, with two arrows in his hand,—a favourite attitude, mean-
ing conquest; and so on. ‘The robes of the king were in every
case very beautifully wrought with emblems of a sacred cha-
racter, and ] remembered that the merchants of Assyria were said
in Ezekiel (xxvii. 24) to trade with Tyre ‘in blue cloths and
broidered work.’ Nor could I forget, looking on these sculp-
tured alabasters with which the walls were faced, the description
in the same prophet of ‘ men portrayed upon the wall, the
images of the Chaldeans portrayed with vermilion, girded
with girdles upon their loins, exceeding in dyed attire upon
their heads, all of them princes to look upon.’
Cuar. VITI. SINDBAD’S SEVENTH JOURNEY. 117

“ Tn an inner room I found an upper bas-relief, representing
the king hunting a wild bull, which he was sticking in the back
of the neck with a thick short sword, just where the modern
matador of the bull-fight would give the death-blow. This
shaggy-haired bull was, I thought, not unlikely to be the animal
mentioned in the Pentateuch, and elsewhere in the Bible (Deut.
xiv. 5; Isaiah li. 20). A lower bas-relief showed the king with
his attendants and musicians triumphing over the fallen animal,
and taking a cheerful glass, or perhaps making a libation to the
gods. In another, I found the same amiable person, whose
chief affairs of state seemed to have been of the slaughterous
order, hunting the lion; and I must say this was the finest
thing, in the way of delineation, I saw in the Temple. One
lion was lying in a dying state underneath the horses’ legs,
while the king was drawing his bow at another, and two attend-
ants were coming to help him with their swords drawn. ‘This was
really a very spirited bit of sculpture, and almost made up for
the ridiculous perspective which peeped out everywhere. It
seems the Assyrian kings were all great hunters, like Nimrod,
and they kept lions and other wild animals in cages and pre-
serves, just as we do game !—Fighting, however, was the chief
occupation of the Assyrian monarchs, and most of the bas-reliefs
I saw were pictures of their achievements in battle. Here, it
was the siege of a city or fort, in whose walls the dreaded _bat-
tering-ram—how clumsy a machine, and how foolish, in sight
of a modern bombardment!—had already made a_ breach.
Here, it was a castle on an island, in one tower of which a
woman was waiting for three prisoners of war who were escaping
from the Assyrian archers (let us hope so) by means of floats of
inflated skins. Here, the king was receiving prisoners of war
with their hands tied behind them. Here, it was another very

H3
118 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuap, VIII,

great battle. The king was shooting away as fast as he could
at his enemies, with the winged circle or protecting god over his
head, a wounded warrior fallen under his horses, and an eagle
nigh, engaged in preying upon the slain. ‘ Bella, bella, horrida
bella!”

“ Yes, what is it? did you say I was horrid?” asked little
Bella, lifting up her wide-open eyes. O didn’t Fred laugh!

“* My dear,” he said, “I was quoting Latin; that means
‘ Wars, wars, horrid wars!’ ”

“ Very horrid,” said Bella; “ but go on, please.”

“The Assyrian engines of war and their horses and. horse-
men are often mentioned in the Bible; for instance, in Ezekiel,
in Kings, and again in Habakkuk; and from the bas-reliefs I
saw, I should say their horses were of a fine breed. Well, I
saw another of these narratives carved in alabaster on the walls,
in which the king and his army were making the passage of a
river in boats, pushed along as boats are to this day upon the
Tigris and Euphrates, by a long oar fastened to the stern, as
well as by the rowers. In other places I saw represented the
king returning from battle (victorious, of course—kings don’t
have their defeats sculptured for the edification of posterity),
while the warriors were flinging the heads of the slain about
before the royal chariot ——”

“ Bella, bella, horrida bella!” chimed in Amy, mimicking
Fred’s tone and manner. “ You see J can speak Latin, too,
Mr. Scholar ; and perhaps I’ve been to Assyria!”

Fred answered her with mock displeasure—* Hold your
tongue, Miss Pert, and don’t interrupt a gentleman when he’s
talking sense, with your nonsense !—I saw no end of scenes of
this sort; till I was glad to meet something a little more ami-
able-looking, in the shape of a bas-relief in four compartments,
Cuap. VIII, SINDBAD’S SEVENTH JOURNEY. 119

representing each some culinary operation, baking bread, stick-
ing a sheep——”

“ Do you call sticking a sheep a culinary operation?” again
interrupted Amy.

** What does culinary mean?” asked Bob.

“ Relating to the kitchen, or to cooking,” said Hetty.

“ Well, then, killing a sheep is culinary,” said Fred. “ But
you girls kill everything that is good. You keep on interrupting
so. You do all the mischief everywhere. The Arabs tell a
story about Harut and Marut being sent from heaven to judge
the world and put things to rights, and their being teased by
some one like Amy, so that they forgot what they came for, and
lost their throne in the realms of bliss. To punish them, they
were confined somewhere near the very part where I was visit-
ing. ButIsha’n’t tell you any more. I did not ask hospitality of
any Arab, but came home just as safely as I went, in the Roc, had
some tea, and slept that night without any rocking at all. That
is Sindbad’s parting pun. Do not imitate his example in playing
upon words, but see as much as you can, know as much as you
can, and be always ready to tell it; that is my advice to you
all, and especially to Bob, if he wants a surtout and a stand-up
collar. Yousee J’ve found you out, dear Bobby.”

“ And you see I’ve found you out, dear Fred!” replied that
young gentleman; “so that even your surtout and stand-up
collar have not walled in your secret well enough.”

“Perhaps Bob knows the Sphinx too,” suggested Amy,
‘“‘and has been asking her all about it?”

“No,” said Bella, “I think Fred is the Sphinx; and now
we've settled his enigma, he’s going to eat himself.”

“Collar and surtout and all,” said Bob. “ But, do tell us,
Freddy ; you’ve been to the CrysraL PALACE, haven’t you?
120 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. VIII.

We all determined not to spoil your stories till they were over,
but we know you have; so you may as well tell at once, like a
dear, good Freddy.”

In spite of this appeal Fred maintained an immovable stern-
ness, and refused to divulge his secret at once. ‘‘ Come, all of
you,” said he, ‘ for another lecture to-morrow evening ; for
though this is my last journey—(Sindbad only made seven, you
know)—I have other things to tell you; many things to explain
concerning what I have already told you; and a gift for Hind-
bad, if he will accept it.”
Cuap, IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 121

CHAPTER IX.

THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE.

“We will open the proceedings of our present Session,” began
Fred, when all were ready to hear, “ by telling a story slightly
different from any to which you have yet listened :—

“The Prince Ulrich and the Prince Sebald were both, at the
time at which my story opens, dwellers in the Dark Valley which
opens into the Land of Lebenszeit. But, partly by the good
care of their parents and tutors, and partly by their own efforts,
they often drew near to the mountainous rim of the Valley where
the darkness begins to pale into a brown dusk, and glimpses of
the far-stretching realm of Lebenszeit may be caught from the
heights. Very beautiful indeed was the prospect which glittered
beneath the delighted vision of him who could reach a sufficient
elevation to command the far-spreading country with his eyes.
Fields of luxurious green, dotted with flowers of pleasure, mossy
banks of ease for rest, woodlands for shadow, rivers running
with sands of gold, and now and then a shadowing grey willow
or purple-black cedar, which, seen in the distance, did not appear
gloomy, but only lent an air of grandeur and mystery or of soft
persuasive melancholy to the scene. After many stumblings in
the gloom of the Dark Valley, after often falling down and being
often picked up by the guardians whom God intends for every
child who has to pass through the Land of Lebenszeit, Prince
Ulrich and Prince Sebald (and I should tell you that every child
born into this land is from his birth a prince) had at last found
their way to the rim of the Valley, and were becoming accus-
122 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IX,

tomed by degrees to the twilight of the hill district. Occasionally
they reached a height from which they caught glimpses of the
country beyond, and thought they should like to bid adieu to the
Valley for ever; and they once or twice in their rashness were
even fain to choose the first opening into the outer land which
presented itself. But whenever such an impulse seized either of
them, he was restrained by a friendly hand or by some inner
impulse which he could not resist, and which seemed to say,
‘The hour is not yet,’ or, ‘This is not the appointed path into
the Outer Land.’

“ From this you will gather that the paths which led from the
Dark Valley into the open country were many, and in truth they
were so. One day Prince Ulrich and Prince Sebald, having
ventured farther outward than usual, stood looking and listening
on the very verge of the mountain-rim, and fancied that the
twilight was faster and faster melting into morning-light, and
that vague murmurs of invitation and welcome summoned them
to go down the slope on the other side, when Prince Ulrich
suddenly raised his finger and stood in the attitude of deep atten-
tion. His face bore the look of one who was spoken to and called
away; and Sebald really did think he heard a sweet but solemn
voice in the distance, crying out, ‘ Ulrich, Ulrich! this way !’
Whether he did or not, probably Ulrich did; for, darting sud-
denly forward, exclaiming, ‘This way, this way!’ he ran down
the slope, and, as his figure by turns lost itself and reappeared
in the craggy passes, it seemed as if he looked back towards
Sebald, beckoning him with his finger, and saying in a voice
made faint by distance, ‘This way, this way!’ But still he ran,
on and on, and Sebald actually caught a gleam of the morning-
sun of Lebenszeit on the plume of his cap, when once or twice he
waved it rejoicingly in the air after leaping a torrent or crossing
Cuar, IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 123

a more difficult pass of craggy rock than usual. At last he
finally disappeared, and Sebald, after making a feeble effort to
follow in the road he had taken, gave up the pursuit, wearied out
with his scramble over thorny and difficult places.

“Ulrich returned not; and Sebald, restlessly curious to know
of his present career, was accustomed to climb to the highest
peaks of the mountain-rim of the Dark Valley, and strain his
young eyes over the far-stretching land of Lebenszeit in search
of any trace of the missing Prince. Nor did his diligence
long remain wholly unrewarded, for one day he fancied he recog-
nised the well-known plume of the lost Prince fluttering in the
air—in the air, did I say? Yes, in the air, indeed! For where
do you think Prince Ulrich was? Like the coffin of Mahomet,
between heaven and earth—that is where he was! Either he
had found the cap of Fortunatus, or some not less potent thing
of similar properties; for there was Ulrich—yes, undeniably,
Ulrich, crimson feather and all, with wings upon his shoulders,
disporting himself high up in the blue ether like a lark, dropping
down lower now and then for a nearer view of what lay beneath
him, which, of course, could be—was—nothing less than the
whole panorama of the Land of Lebenszeit. ‘ Ah, happy Ul-
rich! sighed Sebald, ‘ it is very fine of you to be flying about up
there, taking in everything below with a glance of the eye, while
I am staying here in the Dark Valley. To-morrow—yes, to-
morrow—lI will come to the border betimes and find a way into
Lebenszeit myself, and then perhaps some one will give me, or I
may find for myself, a pair of wings such as yours!’ And, as he
turned homewards into the Valley, to think upon it and sleep
upon it, he looked round once or twice, and sent forth an
entreating cry upon the twilight air, saying, ‘ Ulrich, Ulrich,
Ulrich!’ (meaning, if you translate it, ‘Come and tell me all
124 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar, IX.

your story, and especially how you got the wings!’)—and the
mountain-sides gave back the cry, ‘ Ulrich, Ulrich, Ulrich!’
Sebald did not dare to hope that Ulrich had heard his voice,
though once he fancied he heard a faint ‘ Yes’ in the distance,
as if in answer to his appeal.

“The next morning, very early, Sebald made his way to the
border of the Dark Valley, and sought the very spot where
Ulrich had been called from him. As he glanced along the
mountain-path by which Ulrich had disappeared on that eventful
day, the crags seemed craggier, and the thorns thornier, and the
ravines deeper, and the torrents wilder, than ever; and for an
instant his heart misgave him about commencing the pursuit of
the missing Prince. Now, just as he had made up his mind to
prosecute the chase in real earnest this time, and had actually
made a few cheerful steps upon the difficult pathway, what
should befall him but to come suddenly across Ulrich himself at
a sharp turning in one of the passes—Ulrich, bright and fresh,
happy and well, a little out of breath with running, and looking
a little older for his trip to the open country of Lebenszeit, but
otherwise pretty much the same Ulrich, and altogether as friendly
and affectionate to Sebald, who was, of course, very glad to see
him.

“ ¢ Ulrich,’ said Sebald, ‘ your face shines after your journey,
though you seem to have grown and become more of a man than
when you left. Isuppose in your flights you have been very near
the sun and caught some polish. But where are your wings ?’

‘*¢ Wings?’ asked the Prince, looking bashful and confused.

“«* Yes, wings,’ says Sebald ; ‘I want a pair like them. It is
so nice to sweep the whole circuit of Lebenszeit in that way.
Tell me where you found them, like a good Ulrich, and where
they are,’
Caar. IX, THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE, 125

“« obtain a pair of such wings if you chose; but they are not for
display, they are for use. I did not mean you to see me up in
the air; your eyes must be very quick. It is one condition of
my wings keeping their power to float me up and away, across
and around, that I do not make a show of them; but, as you
want such a pair of pinions yourself, I presume you will be ready
to come with me and seek them by the same road ?’

“Sebald gave a joyful assent, although he did not quite like
the idea of keeping such a grand gift as a pair of wings all to
himself. However, he said nothing about that, and he and
Ulrich began to traverse the mountain-path with a good will.
Sebald looked several times at Ulrich’s feather, to see if he could
catch any gleam of light upon it such as he had seen from the
distance, but he could not. The rocks looked dull and brown
and lowering ; vegetation was scarce and harsh in quality ; and
it was, after all, not so much lighter here than in the Dark
Valley, though, looked at from the mountain-belt behind, it had
appeared so. But Sebald had not much time afforded him for
unprofitable speculation, for his attention was speedily arrested
by the movements of Ulrich, who stopped short before a solemn-
looking carved door let into the rock, and guarded only by a
still more solemn-looking Owl, which had the air of having
squatted there from all eternity and having made up its mind to
squat there for another eternity, if possible.

“ «What is that owl?’ asked Sebald of his companion, in a
whisper.

“ «That ?’ said Ulrich, touching the door, which gave way to
his hand and opened to the young Princes, ‘ that is the Bird of
Wisdom.’ As he spoke these words, they entered an ante-
chamber, so brilliantly lit up from some source inyisible to them,
126 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. IX.

that Sebald was for a few seconds too dazzled to look about him.
When he was able to do so, he perceived that the place was hung
round with pairs of wings of different sizes, colours, shapes, and
qualities, labelled in gold and silver with the names of the
owners; and upon one was the name ‘ ULRICH’ in illuminated
letters. ‘ Let us pass on,’ said that Prince ; and Sebald followed
him into an interior Hall of state and of audience, filled with a
still more dazzling light than the one from which they had just
emerged. Upon a throne of gold, surmounted by a canopy of
silver, dropping with all rich jewels, and reaching to the rainbow-
roof of this Hall, sat a Radiant Presence, whom Ulrich, to Se-
bald’s surprise—if anything could surprise that young person
after the wings—began to address, in accents of reverent fa-
miliarity. ‘Most Mighty and Most Benignant!’ said Ulrich,
‘whether men name thee Power or KNow.epcE! I crave a
boon! Grant that this Prince Sebald, who was long my com-
panion in the Valley, may be permitted to enter upon his pro-
bation from this hour; for he longs to possess and use a pair of
the sacred wings which it is in the power of the Most Mighty and
Benignant One to bestow.’ Then Ulrich ceased ; and there was
a brief pause of silence, soon broken by a Voice of ineffable
solemnity and sweetness from the Radiant Presence of the place,
which spoke to Sebald, saying,—

“© Prince Sebald! I hear, and you hear, the prayer of Our
good Prince Ulrich. Do you so highly esteem the privilege of
possessing such a pair of wings as it is in Our Power to bestow
that you are ready to pass through the ordeal in which Ulrich
has preceded you and won his honours? If so, speak !’

“ And Sebald, encouraged by a kindly pressure of the hand
from Ulrich, lifted up his eyes to the Presence, and said ‘ Yes.’

“ ¢Tt is well!’ said She. ‘Shake hands with Sebald, and bid
Cuar, IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 127

him adieu for a time. Keep a stout heart. Win bravely the
wings you covet. The bolder you are, the better will they be.
And remember when you have done with them to hang them up
in the antechamber through which you passed on your way into
Our presence. The wings We bestow upon Our votaries are
sacred gifts; not to be used for interest, or for vanity, without
bringing a curse upon the user.’—So speaking, the Presence
waved her hand. In a second, Ulrich was gone, and Sebald was
alone. He seemed to have sunk a thousand fathoms into the
bowels of the earth, and to be at the base of a steep, winding
path which led upa hill of enormous height, whose peak glittered
in the sunshine. A sort of instinct told Sebald that he would
have to reach the top of that hill before winning his wings, and
something whispered him that the light at the top was the light
of the broad bright Land of Lebenszeit.

“ With a cheerful will he began the ascent of the Great
Steep; but before he had gone very far, he was confronted by
a formidable-looking personage who seemed to spring up from
nowhere in particular, and to be determined to bar his farther
progress. ‘ Let me pass on,’ said Sebald. ‘ Wrestle with me
first,’ observed the stranger, in the lines of whose face Sebald
fancied he recognised all the letters of the alphabet from
A to Z. ‘Who are you? what’s your name?’ said Sebald.
‘Or-tho-graph-y, ORTHOGRAPHY!’ said the stranger. ‘ Very
well,’ said Sebald ; ‘come on!’ And so they wrestled there,
and after a good tough struggle Sebald got the better of his
antagonist and threw him, and left him lying flat upon the
ground. But he had no sooner reached another ledge of the
steep than a second challenger darted forward from nowhere
in particular, just like his predecessor, saying, ‘ My name is
ErymoLocy; wrestle with me before you pass on!’ And
128 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IX.

Sebald did, and threw him also; and the same thing happened
several times; and every time his challenger bore a different
name. Once it was Syntax, and then Prosody ; then Geography,
then Astronomy, then History, and so on; till at last Sebald
began to fancy all his bones would be broken before he reached
the top. But that was a wild fancy; for he reached the top
with bones and sinews better knit than ever, and found he had
a beautiful prospect of the broad Land of Lebenszeit spread out
beneath him; of the banks of ease, and the rivers of gold, and
the cedar shadows. While he was feasting his eyes with these,
his attention was called off by a most beautiful butterfly of a
size far exceeding any he had ever seen before, which suddenly
flitted by, and appeared wonderfully attracted to Sebald’s curly
hair. For it mocked at all his attempts to catch it or ex-
amine it closely, and kept flitting around his head and neck in
avery ambiguous manner. At last he felt what he took to be
the touch of the creature’s feet upon his flesh, accompanied with
a pleasurable tingling of the nerves; which was succeeded by a
rustling sound as of one flying away—upon which, looking over
his shoulder, Sebald found himself neatly fitted with the very
pair of wings he had just before seen upon the butterfly! Nor
was he long left in doubt as to their capacity of flying; for a
breeze swept up from the Land of Lebenszeit, and fluttered
them on his back, and an impulse of motion seemed to be com-
municated to them and to him, and, shutting his eyes in a vague
half-terror, he made the plunge from the mountain-top, and had
the unspeakable delight of finding himself upborne in the blue
bright air high over the wide-spreading continent, which lay like
a living map beneath his feet. ‘ Now,’ thought he, ‘now I
fly like Ulrich! I wonder whether I could get hold of any of
the gold in that river there below!’ And, spreading out his
Guar, IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 129

wings and sailing passively downwards, Sebald made an attempt
to reach the glittering stream and gather up some of its yellow
waves. But the lower he went the heavier he felt. himself to be,
and the more distant the river appeared ; indeed he soon found
his wings flapping so drowsily upon his shoulders, that he began
to fear they would not bear him up again if he persisted in his
greedy effort to gather some of the rippling gold, more espe-
cially when he heard a Voice singing in the air, which said or
seemed to say to him—

‘ Prince Sebald! Prince Sebald!
The sacred wings
Were never given
For sordid things ;
Nor for florin,
Crown, or dollar,
Coat with tails,
Or stand-up collar ;
Nor for vanity,
Pride, or show ;
He will be punished
Who uses them 50.’

“ Now, hearing these words, Sebald thought he had better
desist and make the best of his way up to the summit of the hill
again, which he accordingly did, and, taking off his wings, sub-
mitted them to an anxious scrutiny, the result of which was that
they appeared to him to have lost something, just a trifle, in
brilliancy, as compared with what they were on the butterfly’s
back ; but perhaps it was fancy. Then Sebald made the best of
his way down the mountain, and, to his great surprise, found
Ulrich waiting at the bottom to welcome him and conduct him
by a new route to the Hall of the Owl, where he hung up his
wings, like a good boy, in the antechamber; and Ulrich and
Sebald went back to the Dark Valley.
130 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IX,

«“ Happy would it have been for Sebald if he had always
minded the injunction of the Radiant Presence and the warning
of the Voice. But he grew so enamoured of his wings after a
few excursions with them, that one time he made up his mind to
take them with him into the Valley to show others how beautiful
they were, and was only defeated in his purpose by a very
singular occurrence indeed. The singular occurrence was this—
that, just as he had crossed the mountain-rim of the Valley, with
his wings folded on his shoulders, he felt a curious sensation up
there, and immediately afterwards a smart box on each ear from
a hard horny pinion. In another instant, before he could have
said Jack Robinson, if he had wanted to, he was caught up into
the air by the claws of a huge Bat, which went flying with him
in that way across the Dark Valley, and, setting him down in a
desolate place on the other side of it, gave him another double
box on the ear and then left him to digest his annoyance as best
he might. How long he might have stayed there in disconsola-
tion and dulness no one can say, had it not been that, after he
had done a pretty good long penance, Prince Ulrich was com-
missioned by the Presence to find him out and bring him to
Her, to be admonished and presented with his wings once
more 5 after which you may be sure he used them properly for
the rest of his time, like a prudent boy who knew how to put
sacred gifts to sacred uses. As for Ulrich, his wings grew
brighter and stronger every day, and he took longer and longer
flights with them, till the time came when he went out on foot
into the Great Land of Lebenszeit, and he needed wings still
larger and stronger and more beautiful. Who will be kind
enough to tell me the moral of this little story?”

“T will,” said Hetty, embracing Bob, whom you must not
think she had neglected because Bella, after the manner of
Cuar. IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 131

little girls when younger boys are in trouble, had taken him
under her protection. “TI will tellthe moral. You gave it us in
the song which Sebald heard. It is, that knowledge must be
sought for its own sake, and not for selfish ends, great or small ;
that we are to seek what is good because it is good, when other
things will, if proper for us, be added. It is a very good lesson,
and we will mind it,” said Hetty, pressing her brother closer to
her side, and whispering some kind, encouraging word in his ear.

“That is it, Hetty,” said Fred: “I thought I would tell
that story before we went any farther, and have done with what
I meant to convey. Now I am ready to answer any questions
you may please to put to me.”

“Then perhaps you will tell us off-hand, Mr. Fred,” says
Bob, lifting up his bright bold face, and shaking the curls from
his forehead,—* perhaps you will tell us if you have n’t been to
the Crystal Palace in these wonderful travels of yours? We
know you have, but we want you to say it; so you'd better.”

“No compulsion, only I must?” replied Fred. ‘ Well, I
have! and, of course, the accounts of my travels were made up
partly of what I saw there—with an eye prepared by reading,
mind you—and partly of what is familiar to me in books of
travel, history, and antiquities. I wanted to make you all
interested, or more interested than before, in the wonderful
things the great Glass Palace of Art contains; and in an
attempt to do that I blended all the information I could think
of in any way related to the different Courts.”

“ Ah, Hetty and I understood very well,” said Amy. “You
went from the Egyptian Court to the Grecian; then you gave
us an account of the Gardens and the Geological Islands, and
of the Ethnological and Portrait Departments, and Pompeii,
which included Rome, and the Alhambra, and Assyria.”
132 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IX,

“ And we judged,” said Hetty, “that you forsook the actual
order of the respective Departments in the actual Palace
because you wished to vary as much as possible the entertain-
ment you were so kind as to give us.”

“ Just so; and now,” observed Frederick, “I shall leave you
to do your best in varying still further the entertainment we
are getting out of Sydenham by asking me questions, or fur-
nishing any matter of your own in prose or verse, or otherwise
as you please. In truth, I shall be glad to be your debtor for
anything that will throw interest around the contents of the
Wonderful Palace.”

“fave you not omitted in your Travels, good Sindbad, a
great many matters of interest there?” said Amy. “For in-
stance, the Medieval Courts and the Manufacturing Courts ?”

* All blanks of that kind,” replied Fred, ‘and many other
requisites for so young a traveller in Wonderland as Hindbad,
I shall supply in my Gift to Hindbad at the close of our
meetings. Now let us go on, if you have anything to say.”

“Well, I have, dear Fred,” said Amy. “TI will not quarrel
with you for omitting to mention that Memnon used to make a
lugubrious noise at sunset, nor ask you when Isis met Osiris
‘on the green rim of the tumbling sea.’ But you spoke of the
submerged Atlantis and the Atlanteans. Can you tell me—all
of us—anything more about those topics, which are almost new
to us?”

“T dare say they are new to you,” resumed our Fred ; “ but
I have heard it argued with great ability that the passages in
Plato referring to the Atlantis—to a great island or continent
lying between Europe and America—which have been com-
monly treated as fabulous, really are not so; and that the
ancient Mexicans were descended from the Atlanteans. But
Guar. IX, THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 133

this is too large and weighty a subject for our summerhouse
discussions.”

“Do you remember who built the great Pyramids—the two
great ones, which I have read are the oldest and largest build-
ings in the world?” inquired Hetty,

“The first is believed to have. been built by one Chofo,
called Chetps by the Greeks, as you know,” said Fred;
‘and the second by his successor, Nef Chofo (Nef Chofo’s
is the largest). The first built covers about eleven acres
of ground, and is four hundred and sixty feet high; and Nef
Chofo’s is about forty feet higher and forty feet broader at the
base than its predecessor. The great Sphinx lies in front of
the first-built pyramid, and she measures one hundred and
eighty feet from the claws to the tail! There were roadways
built from the Nile to the feet of these pyramids, in order to
facilitate the carriage of the stones. Both the pyramids contain
small stone chambers, in which were placed the sarcophagi of
the embalmed bodies of the owners.”

“Ts it true that the ancient Egyptians used to beat out of
their houses the embalmers when their work was done, indis-
pensable as that work was?” asked Amy.

“ Likely enough,” said Fred.

“ Hetty and I have got something to read about Mummies,”
she resumed. “Shall I begin? I think it will amuse us ; it is
James Smith’s

‘ ApprEss To THE Mummy In Betzoni’s Exuistrion.
¢ And thou hast walk'd about (how strange a story !)
In Thebes’s streets three thousand years ago,
When the Memnonium was in all its glory,
And time had not begun to overthrow
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous,
Of which the very ruins are tremendous !
134

THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IX,

‘Speak! for thou long enough hast acted dumby ;
Thou hast a tongue; come, let us hear its tune ;
Thow’rt standing on thy legs above ground, mummy!

Revisiting the glimpses of the moon.
Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures,
But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and features.

‘Tell us—for doubtless thou canst recollect—
To whom should we assign the Sphinx’s fame ?
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect
Of either Pyramid that bears his name?
Is Pompey’s Pillar really a misnomer ?
Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ?

¢ Perhaps thou wert a mason, and forbidden
By oath to tell the secrets of thy trade—
Then say, what secret melody was hidden
Tn Memnon’s statue, which at sunrise play’? *
Perhaps thou wert a priest—if so, my struggles
Are vain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles.

Perchance that very hand, now pinion’d flat,
Has hob-a-nobb’d with Pharaoh, glass to glass,
Or dropp’d a halfpenny in Homer’s hat,
Or dofi’d thine own to let Queen Dido pass,
Or held, by Solomon’s own invitation,
A torch at the great Temple’s dedication.

€T need not ask thee if that hand, when arm’d,
Has any Roman soldier maul’d and knuckled,
For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalm’d,
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled:
Antiquity appears to have begun
Long after thy primeval race was run.

* Does not Prior say,—

* Memnon of old was counted vocal,
But ’twas the priest meanwhile that spoke all” {—8, 8.
Cuap. IX, THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE, 1385

‘Thou couldst develop, if that wither’d tongue
Might tell us what those sightless orbs have seen,
How the world look’d when it was fresh and young,
And the great Deluge still had left it green ;
Or was it then so old, that history’s pages
Contain’d no record of its early ages?

* Still silent, incommunicative elf!
Art sworn to secrecy? then keep thy vows;
But pr’ythee tell us something of thyself ;
Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house ;
Since in the world of spirits thou hast slumber’d,
‘What hast thou seen? what strange adventures number’d ?

‘Since first thy form was in this box extended,
We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations ;
The Roman empire has begun and ended,
New worlds have risen—we have lost old nations,
And countless kings have into dust been humbled,
Whilst not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.

‘ Didst thou not hear the pother o’er thy head,
When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses,
March’d armies o’er thy tomb with thundering tread,
O’erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis,
And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder,
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder ?

‘If the tomb’s secrets may not be confess’d,
The nature of thy private life unfold :
A heart has throbb’d beneath that leathern breast,
And tears adown that dusky cheek have roll’d:
Have children climb’d those knees, and kiss’d that face ?
What was thy name and station, age and race ?

‘Statue of flesh—immortal of the dead!
Imperishable type of evanescence !
Posthumous man, who quitt’st thy narrow bed,
And standest undecay’d within our presence,
Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning,
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning.
12
136 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

‘Why should this worthless tegument endure,
If its undying guest be lost for ever ?
Oh, let us keep the soul embalm’d and pure
In living virtue, that, when both must sever,
Although corruption may our frame consume,
The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom.’”

Car. IX,

“O thank you!” cried all the voices at once, when Amy had

done.

“ My little contribution,” said Hetty, “is gayer, I think,
and not quite so long. It is part of an Ode to a Female

Mummy, written by a friend of mine :—

* Poor dingy, dismal sister mine,
What lawless hosts of thoughts combine
To fluster me, the while
Thy long-unrolling shroud I scan
That old original suggestive Pan-
Orama of the Nile.

‘ As the indomitable Layard,
In kingdoms old with names to say hard,
O’er ruin’d towns might ponder,
I view that breast no more that pants,
And of its old inhabitants
I wonder and I wonder.

©The loves and hates, the joys and cares,
The whirl of human hopes and fears
In human hearts e’er seething—
Those matron fears that made thee sad,
‘When little Tsoph the measles had,
Or baby was a-teething—

‘Or when, at noon or close of day,
‘hy cherubs hungry came from play,
Dirt-pies and gutter-grubbles,
To weep alone you fled upstairs,
Smit with eternal flesh-pot cares
And byead-and-butter troubles—.
Cua. IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 137

‘Where be they now? I can’t suppose
These human and these household woes
Extinguished with thy life ;
Haply, to us come down, they bore
Poor Mrs. Jones our neighbour, or
Obstreperate my wife.

‘Howe’er that be, ’tis very clear
No more they'll persecute thee here ;
Those limbs that trembled all
At loving glance or stern reply,
Supremely passive still would lie
Were sun and moon to fall.

‘Wer’t otherwise, I could disclose
That tuneful Memnon’s lost his nose ;
And, as to thy belief,
We’ve no respect for beetles now,
And only worship ox and cow
As sausages or beef,’

“ And it winds up very nicely with—

*T hope to see that poor brown face
Trradiate with celestial grace
When earth itself’s a mummy !’”

“ Well,” said Fred, when they had done applauding Hetty
for her contribution to the stock of entertainment about
Egypt—“ well, Hindbad, have you anything to offer ? ”

“Yes, yes; I know he has!” cried Bella, shaking Bob up a
little by the shoulder.

“ [’m ashamed,” said Bob.

* Ashamed!” said everybody; ‘‘ what about?”

“Tt is so full of hard words,” said Bob.

“QO, never mind: you must read it yourself,” said Fred ;
“ what’s it about ?”

* About Cinderella.” Then, seeing them all ready to laugh,

13
138 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar, XI,

he began to feel a little vexed, and proceeded, with great dignity,
as follows, only mispronouncing a word now and then :—

“¢ Herodotus informs us that some persons supposed the
third pyramid was not built by Mykerinus, but by a beauty well
known to the Greeks from Sappho’s attack upon her, and her
own votive offerings at the Temple of Delphi, of the name of
Rhodopis. She was born in Thrace, and was originally a fellow-
slave of Esop in the house of Iadmon of Samos. Charaxus,
Sappho’s brother, charmed with her beauty, purchased her free-
dom and married her. She was consequently the contemporary
of Amosis (B.c. 571—527), and lived at Naukratis, the Alexan-
dria of earlier times, and was said to have built this pyramid. -
Herodotus has proved the utter absurdity of this notion by most
conclusive arguments. He did not bear in mind, however, that
the “ Rosy-cheeked,” as Rhodopis was called, was the Nitokris
of the Egyptians—the ill-fated wife of a king, and a reigning
queen even—celebrated in the Egyptian annals as the greatest
heroine and beauty, and of whom there can be little doubt that
the imaginative Greeks picked up a number of stories, which
they were not slow in repeating and embellishing. Strabo’s
version of this legend bears on the face of it evident marks of
historic truth. Rhodopis, the pretended builder of the third
pyramid, he says, lived at Naukratis. One day, as she was
bathing, the malicious wind carried away her sandal, and laid
it at the feet of the king, who was sitting in the court of
justice in the open air. His curiosity being excited by the
singularity of the event and the elegance of the sandal, he could
not rest till he had discovered the fair owner of it, and made
her his queen. Here we have “ Rosy-Cheeks ” as the Egyptian
queen. Was she really a foreigner? possibly a Babylonian or
Median, like the Nitokris of Babylon. The name “ Neith the
Cuap, IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 139

Victorious” is strictly Egyptian ; and Herodotus says expressly
that Nitokris was an Egyptian. According to Herodotus, the
husband of Nitokris lost his life in a conspiracy of the Egyptian
princes. His widowed queen succeeded in keeping possession
of the throne, and in reigning, in the name and right of her
murdered husband, six years. During this time she completed
the pyramid of the first Mencheres in the most magnificent
style and in its present state. It was stated in the Egyptian
tales, or popular legends, that the dedication of the newly-
erected sepulchral chamber furnished her with a pretext for
inviting the murderers of her husband to a festive banquet, at
which she caused them to be put to death. Here again allu-
sion is made to a communication between the Nile and the
sepulchral chamber, as in the tomb of Cheops; these, however,
are mere legendary tales, inasmuch as the sepulchral chambers in
both the pyramids are considerably above the level of the river.
After the royal widow had taken her revenge, she is said to
have died by her own hand. Her ashes and sarcophagus had
disappeared probably long before the royal tombs were dese-
crated by the Persians or Mahometans. Another Memphite
family ascended the throne. The fame of Nitokris as the
“ Rosy-cheeked,” the heroic queen and builder of the pyramid,
long survived her, and passed for thousands of years from mouth
to mouth in many a wonderful travesty. Herodotus, and even
the sober Strabo, relate the story of ‘“‘ Rosy-Cheeks” with as
much pleasure as criticism. The craft of interpreters trans-
formed this charming Egyptian queen into the semi-Hellenic
sister-in-law of Sappho, and the Greeks thought nothing incre-
dible or disgraceful in which reference was made to the charm
of beauty and Grecian customs. Such was the foundation of
the legend which, together with the Thessalian story of Psyche
140 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IX,

in Apuleius, gave rise to the story of Cinderella—the oldest in
the world, and, from its deep truth, as the mirror of destiny,
whether it refer to beautiful woman or the human soul, the
most imperishable.’ ”

“ Well, now, I confess that does my dads,” said Fred. “I
did not know the story of Cinderella was so old as all that.
But where did you get it from, Hindbad?”

“T got it from papa. I went and asked him for something
clever about Egypt.”

* But where did papa get it from?”

“T think he said out of Benson.”

“O, I know, Chevalier Bunsen!” cried Fred. ‘“ Well, that
bit of Egyptian legend is ¢oo clever for us” (‘somebody knows
more than Fred,” thought Bob ; “ what a comfort! ”) ; “but it’s
very interesting, and we’re all very much obliged to you for
bringing it. Now, what has Bella got, 1 wonder ?”

“Only a little extract from Juvenal about Egyptian gods,”
replied Bella.

“ Only!” exclaimed Fred. “Only Juvenal for a little lady
like you. Why, if you quote a Roman satirist now, what may
we expect you to do twenty years hence? If this is not a
learned conclave of boys and girls, there never was one.”

“My governess gave it to me,” said Bella ; “I didn’t find it ;
and here it is :—

§ Who has not heard, when Egypt’s realms are named,
What monster gods her frantic sons have framed ?

Here Ibis, gorged with well-grown serpents ; there,
The crocodile commands religious fear.

A monkey god,—prodigious to be told !—

Strikes the beholder’s eye with burnish’d gold.
Through towns Diana’s power neglected lies,
While to her dogs aspiring temples rise,
Cuapr, IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE, 141

And should you leaks or onions eat, no time
Would expiate the sacrilegious crime. —

Religious nation, sure! and blest abodes,
Where every orchard is o’errun with gods

yo

“Thank you, Bella,” said Fred. ‘I suppose we all know
Juvenal was a satirist, and that the satirical order of mind is
seldom a reverent one. I don’t quite like that way of treating
Egyptian worship; and if I had been an Egyptian, I presume
I should have liked it still less. But I have a very interesting
contribution to our stock of matter to read to you. It comes
from Harriet Martineau’s ‘Eastern Life Past and Present ;’
and I am glad to support, by the words of such an authority,
what I said to you of the appropriateness of Egyptian architec-
ture and ornament. You will recollect I said everything was
not only ix Egypt, but everything was Lyyptian—that a row
of sphinxes or a pyramid had no meaning if you took it away
from the scenery which originally surrounded it; but I was not
aware that Miss Martineau had said the same thing so many
thousands of degrees better than I could hope to do so. She
begins, in the passage I am going to read to you, by wishing
for a fairy gift to enable her to remove from the treasures of
ancient Memphic art the veil of sand which the encroaching
desert has succeeded, by the efforts of centuries, in throwing
over it. Then she describes the conflict—the never-ending,
ever-renewing conflict—between the River and the Desert, which
has so peculiar an effect upon Egyptian life and Egyptian
ideas,—influencing their religion and their art in so unexampled
a degree. Now you must be patient, for it is rather a long
story, but well worth listening to. When Bob can write as well
as this he shall have, not only a surtout and collar, but a doctor’s
degree and cocked hat, and write F\RS., F.S.A., and three-
142 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. 1X,

fourths: of the whole honorary alphabet after his illustrious name.
‘If I,’ says Miss Martineau, ‘were to have the choice of a
fairy gift, it should be like none of the many things I fixed upon
in my childhood, in readiness for such an occasion. It should
be for a great winnowing fan, such as would, without injury to
human eyes and lungs, blow away the sand which buries the
monuments of Egypt. What a scene would be laid open then!
One statue and sarcophagus, brought from Memphis, was buried
one hundred and thirty feet below the mound surface. Who
knows but that the greater part of old Memphis, and of other
glorious cities, lies almost unharmed under the sand? Who.
can say what armies of sphinxes, what sentinels of colossi, might
start up on the banks of the river, or come forth from the hill-
sides of the interior, when the cloud of sand had been wafted
away? The ruins which we now go to study might then appear
occupying only eminences, while below might be ranges of pylons,
miles of colonnade, temples intact, and gods and goddesses safe
in their sanctuaries. What quays along the Nile and the banks
of forgotten canals! What terraces, and flights of wide shallow
steps! What architectural stages might we not find for a
thousand miles along the river, where now the orange sands lie
so smooth and light as to show the track—the clear footprint—
of every beetle that comes out to bask in the sun! But it is
better as it is. If we could once blow away the sand to discover
the temples and palaces, we should next want to rend the rocks,
to lay open the tombs ; and Heaven knows what this would set
us wishing further. It is best as it is; for the time has not
come for the full discovery of the treasures of Egypt. It is best
as itis. The sand is a fine means of preservation; and the
present inhabitants perpetuate enough of the names to serve for
guidance when the day for exploration shall come. The minds
Cuap. IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 143

of scholars are preparing for an intelligent interpretation of
what a future age may find; and science, chemical and me-
chanical, will probably supply such means hereafter as we have
not now, for treating and removing the sand, when its conser-
vative office has lasted long enough. We are not worthy yet
of this great unveiling ; and the inhabitants are not, from their
ignorance, trustworthy as spectators. It is better that the world
should wait, if only care be taken that the memory of no site
now known be lost. True as I feel it to be that we had better
wait, I was for ever catching myself in a speculation, not only
on the buried treasures of the mounds on shore, but on means
for managing this obstinate sand.*

“¢ And yet, vexatious as its presence is in many a daily scene,
this sand has a bright side to its character, like everything else.
Besides its great office of preserving unharmed for a future age
the records of the oldest times known to man, the sand of the
desert has, for many thousand years, shared equally with the
Nile the function of determining the character and the destiny
of a whole people, who have again operated powerfully on the
characters and destiny of other nations. Everywhere the minds
and fortunes of human races are mainly determined by the cha-
racteristics of the soil on which they are born and reared. In
our own small island there are, as it were, three tribes of people,
whose lives are much determined still, in spite of all modern
facilities for intercourse, by the circumstance of their being born
and reared on the mineral strip to the west—the pastoral strip
in the middle—or the eastern agricultural portion. The Welsh
and Cornwall miners are as widely different from the Lincoln-
shire or Kentish husbandmen, and the Leicestershire herdsmen,

* Might so young a student of life as I am venture on the observation that
this is a truly feminine touch? Quite Bluebeardish!—S. 8,
144 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cur. IX,

as Englishmen can be from Englishmen. Not only their phy-
sical training is different—their intellectual faculties are differ-
ently exercised, and their moral ideas and habits vary accord-
ingly. So it is in every country where there is a diversity of
geological formation: and nowhere is the original constitution
of their earth so strikingly influential on the character of its
inhabitants as in Egypt. There everything depends—life itself,
and all that it ineludes—on the state of the unintermitting con-
flict between the Nile and the Desert. The world has seen many
struggles; but no other so pertinacious, so perdurable, and so
sublime as the conflict of these two great powers.* The Nile, ever
young because perpetually renewing its youth, appears to the
inexperienced eye to have no chance, with its stripling force,
against the great old Goliath, the Desert, whose might has never
relaxed from the earliest days till now; but the giant has not
conquered yet. Now and then he has prevailed for a season,
and the tremblers whose destiny hung on the event have cried
out that all was over; but he has once more been driven back,
and Nilus has risen up again, todo what we see him doing in the
sculptures—bind up his water-plants about the throne of Egypt.
These fluctuations of superiority have produced extraordinary
effects on the people for the time ; but these are not the forming
and training influences which I am thinking of now. It is true
that when Nile gains too great an accession of strength, and
runs in destructively upon Desert, men are in despair at
seeing their villages swept aw y, and that torrents come spout-
ing out from the sacred tombs in the mountain, as the fearful
clouds of thé sky come down to aid the river of the valley. It
is true that, in the opposite case, they tremble when the heavens

* Not the struggle between the land and the encroaching sea?—S. 8,
Cuapr. IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 145

are alive with meteors, and the Nile is too weak to rise and
mect the sand-columns that come marching on, followed by
blinding clouds of the enemy ; and that famine is then inevitable,
bringing with it the moral curses which attend upon hunger.
It is true that at such times strangers have seen (as we know
from Abdallatif, himself an eye-witness) how little children are
made food of, and even men slaughtered for meat, like cattle.
It is true that such have been the violent effects produced on
men’s conduct by extremity here—effects much like what are
produced by extremity everywhere. It is not of this that I am
thinking when regarding the influence on a nation of the inces-
sant struggle between the Nile and the Desert. It is of the
formation of their ideas and habits, and the training of their
desires.

“ «Fyrom the beginning the people of Egypt have had every-
thing to hope from the river, nothing from the desert ; much to
fear from the desert, and little from the river. What their fear
may reasonably be, any one may know who looks upon a hillocky
expanse of sand, where the little jerboa burrows, and the hyena
prowls at night. Under these hillocks lie temples and palaces,
and under the level sands a whole city. ‘The enemy has come
in from behind, and stifled and buried it. What is the hope of
the people from the river, any one may witness who, at the
regular season, sees the people grouped on the eminences watch-
ing the advancing waters, and listening for the voice of the crier,
or the boom of the cannon, which is to tell the prospect or event
of the inundation of the year. Who can estimate the effect on
a nation’s mind and character of a perpetual vigilance against
the desert (see what it is in Holland of a similar vigilance
against the sea); and of an annual mood of hope in regard to
the Nile? Who cannot see what a stimulating and enlivening

K
146 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IX.

influence this periodical anxiety and relief must exercise on the
character of a uation? And then there is the effect on their
ideas. The Nile was naturally deified by the old inhabitants.
It was a god to the mass, and at least one of the manifestations
of deity to the priestly class. As it was the immediate cause of
all they had, and all they hoped for—the creative power regu-
larly at work before their eyes, usually conquering, though
occasionally checked—it was to them the good power; and the
Desert was the evil one. Hence came a main part of their
faith, embodied in the allegory of the burial of Osiris in the
sacred stream, whence he rose once a year to scatter blessings
over the earth. Then the structure of their country originated
or modified their ideas of death and life. As to the disposal
of their dead, they could not dream of consigning their dead to
the waters which were too sacred to receive any meaner body
than the incorruptible one of Osiris; nor must any other be
placed within reach of its waters, or in the way of the pure pro-
duction of the valley. There were the boundary rocks, with
the limits afforded by their caves. These became sacred to the
dead. After the accumulation of a few generations of corpses,
it became clear how much more extensive was the world of the
dead than that of the living; and as the proportion of the living
to the dead became, before men’s eyes, smaller and smaller, the
state of the dead became a subject of proportionate importance
to them, till their faith and practice grew into what we see
them in the records of the temples and tombs—engrossed with
the idea of death, and in preparation for it. The unseen world
became all in all to them; and the visible world and pre-
sent life of little more importance than as the necessary intro-
duction to the higher and greater. The imagery before their
eyes perpetually sustained these modes of thought. Everywhere
Cap. IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 147

they had in presence the symbols of the worlds of death and
life; the limited scene of production, activity, and change ;
the valley with its verdure, its floods, and its busy multitudes,
who were all incessantly passing away, to be succeeded by their
like ; while, as a boundary to this scene of life, lay the region of
death, to their view unlimited, and everlastingly silent to the
human ear. Their imagery of death was wholly suggested by
the scenery of their abode. Our reception of this is much in-
jured by our having been familiarised with it first through the
ignorant and vulgarised Greek adoption of it, in their imagery
of Charon, Styx, Cerberus, and Rhadamanthus: but if we
can forget these, and look upon the older records with fresh
eyes, it is inexpressibly interesting to contemplate the symbolical
representations of death by the oldest of the Egyptians, before
Greek or Persian was heard of in the world; the passage of the
dead across the river or lake of the valley, attended by the con-
ductor of souls, the God Anubis; the formidable dog, the
guardian of the mansion of Osiris (or the divine abode); the
balance in which the heart or deeds of the deceased are weighed
against the symbol of Integrity; the infant Harpocrates—the
emblem of a new life, seated before the throne of the judge ; the
range of assessors who are to pronounce on the life of the being
come up to judgment; and finally, the judge himself, whose
suspended sceptre is to give the sign of acceptance—or con-
demnation. Here the deceased has crossed the living valley
and river; and in the caves of the death region, where the howl
of the wild dog is heard by night, is this process of judgment
going forward: and none but those who have seen the contrasts
of the region with their own eyes, none who have received the
idea through the borrowed imagery of the Greeks, or the tra-
ditions of any other people, can have any adequate notion how
K 2
148 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Citar. IX.

the mortuary ideas of the primitive Egyptians, and, through
them, of the civilised world at large, have been originated by
the everlasting conflict of the Nile and the Desert.

‘“‘¢ Flow the presence of these elements has, in all ages, deter-
mined the occupations and habits of the inhabitants, needs only
to be pointed out; the fishing, the navigation, and the almost
amphibious habits of the people are what they owe to the Nile,
and their practice of laborious tillage to the Desert. A more
striking instance of patient industry can nowhere be found than
in the method of irrigation practised in all times in this valley.
After the subsidence of the Nile, every drop of water needed
for tillage, and for all other purposes, for the rest of the year, ”
is hauled up and distributed by human labour, up to the point
where the sakia, worked by oxen, supersedes the shadoof, worked
by men. Truly the Desert is here a hard taskmaster; or,
rather, a pertinacious enemy, to be incessantly guarded against :
but yet a friendly adversary, inasmuch as such natural compul-
sion to toil is favourable to a nation’s character.

“One other obligation which the Egyptians owe to the
desert struck me freshly and forcibly, from the beginning of
our voyage to the end. It plainly originated their ideas of
art; not those of the present inhabitants, which are wholly
Saracenic still, but those of the primitive race, who appear
to have originated art all over the world. The first thing
that impressed me in the Nile scenery above Cairo was
the angularity in all the forms. The trees appeared almost
the only exceptions. The line of the Arabian hills soon be-
came so even as to give them the appearance of being sup-
ports of a vast table-land, while the sand heaped up at their
bases was like a row of pyramids. Elsewhere one’s idea of
sand-hills is, that of all round eminences they are the roundest ;
Ouap, IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE, 149

but here their form is generally that of truncated pyramids.
The entrances of the caverns are square. The masses of sand
left by the Nile are square. The river banks are graduated by
the action of the water, so that one may see a hundred natural
nilometers in as many miles. Then, again, the forms of the
rocks, especially the limestone ranges, are remarkably grotesque.
In a few days I saw, without looking for them, so many colossal
figures of men and animals springing from the natural rocks, so
many sphinxes and strange birds, that I was quite prepared for
anything I afterwards met with in the temples. The higher
. we went up the country the more pyramidal became the forms
of even the mud houses of the modern people: and in Nubia
they were worthy, from their angularity, of old Egypt. It is
possible that the people of Abyssinia might, in some obscure
age, have derived their ideas of art from Hindostan, and pro-
pagated them down the Nile. No one can now positively con-
tradict it. But I did not feel on the spot that any derived art
was likely to be in such perfect harmony with its surroundings
as that of Egypt certainly is ;—a harmony so wonderful as to
be, perhaps, the most striking circumstance of all to an European,
coming from a country where all art is derived,* and its main
beauty therefore lost. Jt ts useless to speak of the beauty of
Egyptian architecture and sculpture to those who, not going to
Egypt, can form no conception of its main condition—its appro-
priateness, Ineed not add that I think it worse than useless to

* “Even the Gothic spire is believed by those who know best to be an
attenuated obelisk ; as the obelisk is an attenuated pyramid, Our Gothic
aisles are sometimes conjectured to be a symmetrical stone copy of the glades
of a forest: but there are pillared aisles at El Karnac and Medeenet Haboo,
which were constructed in a country which had no woods, and before the
forests of northern Europe are discernible in the dim picture of ancient
history.”
150 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar, IX,

adopt Egyptian forms and decorations in countries where there
is no Nile and no Desert, and where decorations are not, as in
Egypt, fraught with meaning—pictured language—messages to
the gazer. But I must speak more of this hereafter. Suffice it
now that in the hills, angular at their summits, with angular
mounds at their bases, and angular caves in their strata, we
could not but at once see the originals of temples, pyramids,
and tombs. Indeed the pyramids look like an eternal fixing
down of the shifting sand-hills which are here the main features
of the Desert. If we consider further what facility the Desert
has afforded for scientific observation—how it was the field for
the meteorological studies of the Egyptians, and how its perma-
nent pyramidal forms served them, whether originally or by
derivation, with instruments of measurement and calculation for
astronomical purposes—we shall see that, one way or another,
the Desert has been a great benefactor to the Egyptians of all
time, however fairly regarded in some senses as an enemy.
The sand may, as I said before, have a fair side to its cha~
racter, if it has taken a leading part in determining the ideas,
the feelings, the worship, the occupation, the habits, and
the arts of the people of the Nile valley, for many thousand
years.’ ”

“ Ah!” observed Hetty, “you, Sindbad, have been to Egypt,
so of course you knew some of this before Miss Martineau told
you. See, dear Hindbad, what it is to be a traveller!”

What sort of reply could our bepraised friend Sindbad make
to this? I do not know, and expect you do not. Neither did
he, so he looked bashfully and held his tongue.

“There is one thing which has struck me in a vague sort of
way,” said Amy, “ about Egyptian drawings. There seems not
only great formality, but a certain unaccountable regularity of
Cuar. IX, THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE, 151

proportion. Can you account for that, Mr. Sindbad ?—I mean
for my impression, which, of course, may be incorrect.”

“ May be, but is not. Your impression, like most impressions,
has a foundation. The Egyptian artist conformed his painting
or his statue to certain lines, in which an exact proportion was
preserved, drawn upon the surface of the material in or upon
which he was to work. We should know this, if by no other
indications, by the positive evidence afforded in the existence of
statues in the rock in an unfinished condition,—I mean with a
head or foot chiselled out of the stone, while the remainder of
the figure remains in a sort of fresco tracery, yet uncut by the
forming hand. The Egyptians were not only extremely patient
artists in the sense of begrudging no time or labour for the com-
pletion of a design once entertained and sketched out, but they
were so in another and higher sense,—in that of the great artist
who chips the marble or tints the canvas, line by line, shade by
shade, day after day, hour after hour, as the ideal of his work
grows upon him. Domenichino was a workman of this sort,
and, for his slowness, was nicknamed ‘the Ox ;’ after a week’s
additional pains taken by him with a picture a common observer
would not be able to detect any difference in the painting. But
as grains of impalpable sand made up the desert wave which
rolled over the remains of Egyptian art, so, we all know, a
million touches, invisible if taken separately, go to make up a
fine work of art. The Egyptians had some apprehension of this,
for we find statues of theirs in which the original design, itself
the result of the consecutive labours of two or three hands, has
been deviated from in the course of the final process, and the
chiselled stone outline supplemented by plaster.”

“ You mean,” said Hindbad, “just as if I were to cut you out
in stone, and not make your nose big enough, and I were to
152 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar, IX,

make it stick out more afterwards by putting some composition
on it?”

“That’s it, Hindbad,” said Frederick, smiling at the naiveté
of the illustration. “I hope, however, if ever you are a sculptor
and think of immortalising me in marble, you will make sure of
my physiognomy before beginning; because the plaster added
by the Egyptian artists has sometimes fallen away: and that
kind of accident would be serious with a nose.”

“Well,” put in Amy, “when are we coming to the de-
tails of the proportion adopted in Egyptian painting and
sculpture ?”

“ Ah, your pardon, Amy!” said Sindbad. “TI really forgot
to say that the plan was always to divide a sitting figure into
fifteen and a standing one into nineteen portions, by lines drawn
upon the material, as we said before.”

“They seemed very fond of making things as big as possible,
I think,” said little Bella.

“The colossal figures in front of the tomb of Abon Simbel
in Nubia, dear, are sixty-one feet high, cut out of the solid
rock,” said Fred.

“T suppose,” observed Hetty, “they built in the rocks before
they made temples ? ”

“We think not,” replied Fred. ‘When you get inside the
rock temples of Nubia, you find in the work positive imitations
of buildings constructed in the strict sense, not excavated. The
grandeur in which the Egyptian imagination so much delighted
was at the command of the artist in the rocky elevations which
border the Nile in Nubia, where the river runs through a
narrow valley; all he had to do was to cut into the rock, and
there was his edifice ; but where there was a wide-open plain,
his obvious resource was to heap pile on pile till he had raised a
Cup, 1X, THE LAST LECTURE-—BUT ONE. 153

pyramid or an obelisk or a ‘hall of columns’ that was not
dwarfed by the surrounding flatness.”

“T wonder how the idea of a column to support a roof first
came to strike people!” said Bobby.

“Well,” replied Fred, “I think it is a very obvious idea, and
one that might have started up in a thousand different ways.
But, if you want a theory, all you have to suppose is, that, if a
number of workmen in cutting into a quarry for stone to carry
away, found the roof they left overhead widening so as to look
alarming, they would leave blocks of stone standing here and
there to support the weight above—and what have you then
but a Hall of Columns ?”

“For my part,” said Amy, “TI should like to know all about
the Egyptian hieroglyphics, and how to read them.”

“ All about the Egyptian hieroglyphics!” cried Fred, with a
smile. “A modest demand for a young lady! Why, the
most learned men who have given their lives to hieroglyphics
know very little about them at present, even with the help of the
Rosetta stone, in which they are forced to leave blanks. But
we can form some idea of the way in which writing by
hieroglyphics slid into writing by words. At first people would
signify a head or a mouth by drawing it outright. And it
would be presumption in us to say what could or could not be
written down in this way by people who had no other way of
writing: for associations of ideas are so delicate and mysterious
that they might find means of communicating shades of ideas
at the time which do not enter into the head of a critic at a
distance of three thousand years. However, all writing by pure
hieroglyphics must, of course, be very limited in its applications ;
and an inventive mind would some day, we may presume, hit
upon the notion of making the painted image of the thing stand

K 3
154 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. IX.

for the first letter of the name of the thing. Just as if we
English had no written language, but represented mouth by a
drawing of a mouth, and by-and-by some one should make that
drawing stand for the consonant m. Well, that substitution
would, of course, be followed up by others, till an alphabet, or
an apology for one, was formed; and, from time to time, the
shape of the letters would be simplified.”

“Ah!” said Bob, “they might make a sort of bow, like a
top lip, stand for m/”

“ Just so,” resumed Fred; “ but the Egyptians do not seem
to have arrived at a pure written language, in which all sounds
should be expressible by an alphabet. Their writing is part
letters, part syllables, part hieroglyphics. There is another
stone besides the Rosetta stone which has been of great use in
aiding clever men to make out ancient Egyptian writing.”

“Egypt,” said Hetty, “was a country with a long history ;
and they must have been, I think, a slowminded people to
have missed the invention of a language, strictly so called;
though, to be sure, the first idea is everything.”

‘‘Slowmindedness may exist in two ways,” said Fred. “I
have already observed that the Egyptians were slowminded, in
the sense of holding fast to ideas once gained. I think they
might be so, and yet quick to apprehend new ideas. What you
say of Egypt having a long history is, of course, true; they
themselves reckon up to nobody knows when, and the chro-
nology of their history is still in terrible confusion. You all know
that there. are four leading periods in Egyptian annals ;—that
of the Pharaohs, when the country was independent; the Perso-
Egyptian period, when it was subject to Persia; the Greco-
Egyptian period, during the reign of the Ptolemies; and the
Romano-Egyptian period, when the country was a Roman pro-
Cuap. IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 155

vince. Manetho is supposed to have been the first Egyptian
historian: he was a priest of Heliopolis, and his work dates
about two hundred and fifty years before Christ. We have
only the remains, detached portions of his history, which was
written in Greek; but from them we find that he reckons
twenty-six races of kings over Egypt from the Persian invasion
under Cambyses up to Menes, who is supposed to have been the
same as Misraim, the grandson of Noah. But we have made
very little progress, I understand, in unrolling the early history
of Egypt, or regulating its chronology, at present.”

“Well, let’s go somewhere else,” cried Hindbad, rather
abruptly ; “what ’s the good of staying in Egypt if nobody can
make it out?”

“Yes! let’s go to Greece!” chimed in Bella. “ Fred
will be sure to have something pretty to tell us about the
Greeks.”

“J think,” interposed good Amy, ‘I think Fred has done
his share in telling ; it is our turn now to tell what we can.”

“But we may ask him questions,” said Bob, with a note of
mischievous interrogation.

“ Certainly,” says Fred.

“Well, then,” resumed Bob, “ what did you mean, Sindbad
the Sailor, in putting the Dying Gladiator into Apollo’s
speech, when he hates the Romans so?”

“]T think I can answer that,” said Amy. “It is a work of
late Greek art, whatever it is called and wherever it is fetched
from.* What struck me was, that we had heard nothing about
how Mr. Apollo’s Greeks used to live in the country. Yet they
could not all have lived in towns; there must have been agri-
culturists; and we have pastoral poetry of theirs; and Homer

* See Note 55 to fourth canto of ‘Childe Harold.’
156 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuap. LX,

was fond of painting rural life. I talked to papa about this
the other night, and he gave me avery pretty extract from
the ‘Iliad,’ which runs thus :—

‘There, in a field, ’mid lofty corn, the lusty reapers stand,
Plying their task right joyously, with sickle each in hand.
Some strew in lines, as on they press, the handfuls thick behind,
While at their heels the heavy sheaves their merry comrades bind.
These to the mows a troop of boys next bear in haste away,
Piling upon the golden glebe the triumphs of the day.
Among them, wrapp’d in silent joy, their scepter’d king appears,
Beholding, in the swelling heaps, the stores of future years.
A mighty ox beneath an oak the busy heralds slay,
With grateful sacrifice, to close the labours of the day ;
While near, the husbandman’s repast the rustic maids prepare,
Sprinkling with flour the broiling cates, whose savour fills the air,’

And he told me that the mountains of Greece, which now look
so cold and naked, were once covered with wood; while the
green landscapes were parcelled out by hedge-rows, as in Eng-
land, and traversed by the beautiful little streams which ran
down from the mountains. He told me that, when I read Mr.
Ruskin with him, he thought he should be able to show me that
in his ‘Modern Painters’ he has understated the Greek appre-
ciation of landscape ; and that other critics, following his lead,
have erred still more in the same direction.”

“We know,” said Hetty, “the Greeks had beautiful vine-
yards and olive-groves : I wonder if they had many flowers ?”

“Why not?” said Amy. “Papa told me they had roses,
violets, lilies, and crocuses; myrtles, of course; lavender, ge-
raniums, the convolvulus, rhododendron, and others. That was
a pretty selection at all events. And sce how they used to
cultivate bees!”

“ Ah,” said Fred, “the golden-looking honey of Hymettos
Cup. IX, THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 157

was considered the finest in the world.” He said just that little,
and put in a word now and then only, because he liked to hear
Amy and Hetty talk, and did not want to be sitting there like
a grave judge to criticise all they said, instead of taking part
in the conversation.

“T have read,” resumed Amy, “that the Greeks were very
careful to plant their hives in the neighbourhood of the best
blossoms for honey-making, such as those of the pear-tree, the
_ bean, the thyme, and the rose; but, above all, the thyme. But
in some parts of Greece, as in Sicily now, the fields are so full
of thyme that the air is heavy with perfume. Box-wood they
tried to avoid, because it tended to make the honey bitter.
Then they diverted very shallow streams of pure water into the
neighbourhood of the hives, and in the streams they put pebbles
and shells rising a little above the surface, for the bees to stand
upon to drink.”

“ Pretty little bees!” said Bella, clapping her hands; “I
think I should have liked to be a bee in Greece.”

*T should like you to be a lady in Greece, for me to come
and see you,” said Bob.

“Tn a pretty bower made of myrtles, jessamine, and honey-
suckle,” said Fred.

“Tt couldn’t be too pretty for Bella to sit in,” said Bob.

“ But perhaps Bella would not have been so pretty if she had
been a little girl in Greece,” suggested Fred.

. “ Why, were not all the Greek ladies beautiful?” demanded
Bob, in some little consternation. ‘I thought they were!
Look at Juno, and Venus, and Minerva, and Aspasia !’’

“Ah, Hindbad, you have the pick there. But I should
doubt if Grecian ladies were generally very pretty ; certainly
there was no such wide difference between men and women as
158 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. IX,

to handsomeness as exists in modern times. At all events, I
am sorry to have to tell you they are very plain now—I mean
the women. A recent traveller says,—‘The modern Greeks
are still a fine race of men, straight, upright, and well grown;
and in the classes removed from absolute beggary, the national
costume, gay and flowing, adds, of course, considerably to their
personal attractions. But the women appear, almost without
exception, fat and ugly. ‘Their complexions are bad and oily,
and their hair coarse and ill-arranged ; their eyes small, and ,
their hands and feet large and clumsy ; and not even the grace
of the-national dress can conceal the waddling awkwardness of
their movements. They seem to be born to show how ugly it
is possible to be with faultless features. They have nearly all
the splendid Greek profile, the straight nose, the delicate lip ;
but the effect is displeasing” What do you say to that?”

What could Bob say? Nothing to the purpose. So he
looked as he felt, and as we all feel when we learn it for the
first time, quite disappointed that the Grecian ladies were not,
and are not, uniformly beauties.

“T think,” said Amy, “our Hindbad would have liked to
see a Greek vintage ; because it was such a very gay, exciting
scene, when, the magistrate having declared in due form the
time of vintage begun, the lads and lasses went out crowned
with ivy, to the music of the flute, to cut down the blue, bursting
clusters with their little sickles, filled their osier baskets, and
then took them to the wine-press, to be trodden by the men,
who would sing all the while loud songs in praise of Bacchus.
But what was funnier than all was the stage of the mounte-
banks, where conjurers’ tricks were played and quaint dialogues
carried on. And papa told me the men and lads used to fill
skins as full of wine as possible, tie them up, dip them in oil,
Cnap. IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 159

and then try to stand upon them with their sandals off, which
of course was nearly impossible, and made a great deal of
merriment.”

“JT don’t think our Bob would approve of anything so Bac-
chanalian as all that,” said Fred: “he would rather have gone
a-hunting with a party of gentlemen in chase of the stag or
wild-boar, I know. But I can repeat to you all a pretty story
out of Dion Chrysostom if you like, which will give you an idea
of the frank, simple, hearty life we may suppose the Greek
shepherd, remote from towns, to have lived; and then, if we
believe old Dion, who says he was eye and ear witness all the
way through, we shall have a picture of life in the country in
Greece to put by the side of the picture in my travels of life in
the cities.”

*O, let us have the story, do!” exclaimed Bella. “I do so
like a story !”

“ And I do so like an old-fashioned story!” said Hetty.

“So do I,” said Amy; “it is like going into a new world.
Pray begin.”

“Well,” began Fred, “Dion Chrysostom says he was once
wrecked upon the shores of Euboea, and, climbing up the rocks,
fell in with one of the hunters of the islaud, who had just suc-
ceeded in finishing off a deer. The huntsman asked Dion to
go home with him and accept his hospitality. Dion consented
and went, and while he stayed in the hunter’s home was made
acquainted with two of the families of the place who were about
to connect themselves by marriage. In the evening a young
hunter comes in with his father, bringing a present of a hare,
and it soon becomes plain that the daughter of Dion’s friend
who had introduced him to this little circle is the youngster’s
cousin at present, and soon to be his bride. It comes out in
160 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, IX,

conversation that the wedding is to take place when the moon
is near the full, and the weather is fine, if a victim can be pur-
chased to sacrifice to the gods. Now the father of the bride
elect has noticed of late an unaccountable grunting noise behind
the house, and also a rapid disappearance of the barley; the
secret of which is now disclosed. It seems that there is a pig
in reserve, which has been fattening for the sacrifice, and the
boys run off to fetch him. While they are gone, the girl
fetches grapes, apples, and other nice things, and spreads them
out on some clean fern for the evening meal, which is soon
reinforced by bread and eggs, brought in by the little boys
and the girl’s mother. Then came the scouts bearing the pig
in triumph, which squeaks as pigs have squeaked ever since
Noah, and as I suppose they will squeak as long as the earth
spins round the sun. Then the young man is joked a little.
Here is the sacrifice ; but perhaps he wants to make it a little
fatter. ‘Oh, no,’ he says, ‘the pig is bursting with fat, for that
matter.’ ‘But you,’ said Dion, ‘you, young sir, are getting
thin, I perceive.’ ‘Yes,’ says his mother, ‘he goes out and
takes thoughtful walks by night.’ ‘Oh,’ says the young man,
‘that was only when the dogs barked, and I went to see what
was the matter.’ However, it is all overruled, and the wedding
is fixed for the third day. Dion is asked to remain and share in
the festivities, which he does with great pleasure ; and afterwards
he puts down for our benefit this pretty memorial of shepherd-life
in Euboea. That is Dion Chrysostom’s little pastoral story.”
“TI have something in the story way to offer,” said Hetty,
“but it relates to town-life, and is only a very animated and
well-coloured picture of a procession at the Pythian Games.
My brother George copied it for me from a book in his library
at Cambridge. It is from a Greek romance written by Helio-
Cuar. IX, THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE, 161

dorus, a Christian bishop of Thessaly, of Greek origin, who lost
his see rather than give up romance-writing. In ‘Theagenes
and Chariclea,’ the bishop paints this picture, which is, I think,
more vivid and life-like than anything we have had yet :—
‘The procession began with an hecatomb of victims, led by
some of the inferior ministers of the temple, rough-looking men,
in white and girt-up garments. Their right hands and breasts
were naked, and they bore a two-edged axe. The oxen were
black, with moderately arched and brawny necks—their horns
equal, and very little bent; some were gilt, others adorned
with flowers—their legs bent inwards—and their deep dewlaps
flowing down to their knees—their number, in accordance with
the name, exactly an hundred. A variety of other different
victims came afterwards, each species separate and in order,
attended with pipes and flutes, sending forth a strain prelusive
of the sacrifice: these were followed by a troop of fair and long-
waisted Thessalian maidens, with dishevelled locks—they were
distributed into two companies; the first division bore baskets
full of fruits and flowers; the second, vases of conserves and
spices, which filled the air with fragrance: they carried these
on their heads; thus, their hands being at liberty, they joined
them together, so that they could move along and lead the
dance. The key-note to the melody was sounded by the next
division, who were to sing the whole of the hymn appointed for
this festival, which contained the praises of Thetis, of Peleus,
and their son, and of Neoptolemus. ....

SOSA Ici a band of youths on icconahapks with their splen-
didly-dressed commander, opening upon them, afforded a spec-
tacle far preferable to any sounds. Their number was exactly
fifty ; they divided themselves into five-and-twenty on each side,
guarding their leader, chief of the sacred embassy, who rode
162 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Ouap, IX,

in the midst: their buskins, laced with a purple thong, were
tied above their ankles; their white garments, bordered with
blue, were fastened by a golden clasp over their breasts. Their
horses were Thessalian, and by their spirit gave token of the
open plains they came from; they seemed to champ with dis-
dain the foaming bit, yet obeyed the regulating hand of their
riders, who appeared to vie with each other in the splendour of
their frontlets and other trappings, which glittered with gold
and silver. But all these, Cnemon, splendid as they were, were
utterly overlooked, and seemed to vanish, like other objects
before a flash of lightning, at the appearance of their leader,
my dear Theagenes, so gallant a show did he make. He too
was on horseback, and in armour, with an ashen spear in his
hand; his head was uncovered; he wore a purple robe, on
which was worked in gold the story of the Centaurs and the
Lapithe ; the clasp of it was of electrum, and represented Pallas
with the Gorgon’s head on her shield. A light breath of wind
added to the grace of his appearance ; it played upon his hair,
dispersed it on his neck, and divided it from his forehead,
throwing back the extremities of his cloak in easy folds on the
back and sides of his horse. You would say, too, that the
horse himself was conscious both of his own beauty and of the
beauty of his rider—so stately did he arch his neck and carry
his head, with ears erect and fiery eyes, proudly bearing a
master who was proud to be thus borne. He moved along
under a loose rein, balancing himself equally on each side, and,
touching the ground with the extremity of his hoofs, tempered
his pace into almost an insensible motion. . . . .

* «Chariclea was borne in a chariot drawn by two white oxen
—she was dressed ina purple robe embroidered with gold, which
flowed down to her feet—she had a girdle round her waist, on
Cuap. IX, THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE, 163

which the artist had exerted all his skill: it represented two
serpents, whose tails were interlaced behind her shoulders ; their
necks knotted beneath her bosom ; and their heads, disentangled
from the knot, hung down on either side as an appendage : so
well were they imitated, that you would say they really glided
onward. They were wrought in darkened gold, tinged with
blue, the better to represent, by this mixture of dark and yellow,
the roughness and glancing colour of the scales. Such was the
maiden’s girdle. Her hair was not entirely tied up, nor quite
dishevelled, but the greater part of it flowed down her neck,
and wantoned on her shoulders—a crown of laurel confined the
bright and ruddy locks which adorned her forehead, and pre-
vented the wind from disturbing them too roughly—she bore a
gilded bow in her left hand; her quiver hung at her right
shoulder—in her other hand she had a lighted torch; yet the
lustre of her eyes paled the brightness of the torch.’ ”

“Oh! that was something like a pretty story!” cried Bob,
“not half so dull as a good deal of what you've all been
talking about.”

“JT forget what the Pythian games were,—if you ever told
us,” said Bella.

“©, I know that,” said Bob; “they were games instituted
to commemorate Apollo’s killing the Python.”

“‘ How many gods did the Greeks have?” asked Bella.

“More than I could tell you of,” said Fred.

“ But tell me something of some of them, please,” resumed
the little lady.

“ Well, I will,” said Fred. “ Before the whole series of
gods Grecian mythology put Chronos or Time, Chaos se

“T know what that means!” cries Bob.

‘We all know what Chaos is.”


164 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuap. IX.

« Ah, but I know better than you. I saw it ina paper. It
means a large heap of nothing, with no place to put it in—
that’s what Chaos means!”

“Very well—it does not matter much. Chronos, Chaos,
Géa* (the Earth), and Uranos (Heaven), came before the
whole range of deities with whom the popular faith and
imagination were conversant. Time, of course, must go before
everything, thought a Greek ; nothing can be without time for it
to be in. Then come confusion and nothingness ; then heaven
and earth. After these, the twelve great Olympian gods—
their names being Zeus (Jupiter), Poseidon (Neptune), Apollo,
Ares (Mars), Hepheeston (Vulcan), Hermes (Mercury), Héré
(Juno), Athéné (Minerva), Artemis (Diana), Aphrodité (Venus),
Hestia (Vesta), and Demétér (Ceres—the Great Mother). I
think you all know something about these leading deities.
Jupiter, the son of Chronos, had a sort of superiority over all
the rest, and Juno, the large-eyed scold, was his wife. Neptune
was the god of the sea, Mars, of war. Vulcan, of fire.
Mercury, of commerce and cunning, besides being the messenger
of heaven, a sort of Olympian runner, always ready ‘to go for
to come for to fetch for to carry for to take’ at the bidding of
Jove. Minerva, of wisdom. Diana, of the chase. Venus, of
love. Vesta, of domestic life. Ceres, of plenty, or the corn-
field. Besides these, there was Dionysius or Baechus, the god
of wine, who, happening to make the unlucky thirteenth, was
excluded from the round table, though his rank and functions
well entitled him to a respectable place at it. Then came the
smaller fry, of some of which it is hard to say whether they were
ever worshipped or not. Such as Nemesis (or Retribution),
Themis (or Law), the Fates, the Muses, the Graces, and the

* The g pronounced hard,
Citar, IX. THE LAST LECTURE—BUT ONE. 165

rest, with the whole train of sea-nymphs, wood-nymphs, and
mountain-nymphs. Then followed the heroes, such as Hercules,
the strong man, and Esculapius, the medicine-man. A Greek
temple was fitted up inside with an eye to the audience of
worshippers. The god, railed in and on a pedestal, stood at
the further end, or in the middle of the place; the altar in
front, with an opening in the roof above it to allow the escape
of the sacrificial smoke,—or perhaps, in the minds of the élite
of the worshippers, to allow the incense to ascend to heaven,
where the real god whose image was in view awaited the usual
token that his service, or “cultus,” was not neglected.

“Do you think,” inquired Hetty, “there were many of the
worshippers who took that spiritual view of the service? or rather
I should say that comparatively spiritual view of it; for the idea
that a god, even in heaven, required the tangible fume of a
sacrifice to please him was gross enough, I am sure.”

“TJ think,” said Sindbad, pulling out his watch, “ itis getting
late, and we must put off that question till next time: do you
think we can keep up the interest for one more session of this
illustrious assembly ?”

This question was unanimously answered in the affirmative,
and an adjournment, satisfactory to all parties, took place in
due form. Bella and Hetty resigned Hindbad to Sindbad, and
that interesting pair walked away in amicable discussion.

“J don’t think Bob is big enough for a surtout yet,”
suggested Bella in a musing tone, as she watched her friends
walking up the garden path.

“No; I don’t think he is indeed,” said Amy ; “not for a fow
years yet.”

“But, certainly,” said Hetty, “he walks more like a little
man than he used to do. He has caught it of Fred.”
166 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Onapr. X,

CHAPTER X.
THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL.

‘Tum vanity of human wishes,” said Sindbad, on opening the
session, “ has been plentifully illustrated both before and since
Dr. Johnson wrote his poem with that title. I have latterly
experienced strong impressions of the vanity of human possessions.
There was a Frenchman who summed up his knowledge of human
life by saying, ‘I tell you, sare, de pursuit is de good; de
possession is de evil.” I do not wish you to adopt that
philosophy; but I can assure my expecting friend Hindbad
that the possession of a surtout coat—presuming you wear it—
is far from being the unmitigated pleasure he might suppose in
the anticipation. It may serve to moderate the: ardour of his
aspirations, and make him content for a longer term with the
innocent jacket of his youth, if I hint at some of my new-found
troubles since I assumed,—or rather, since I was invested
with,—the toga virilis which he covets so much.”

“TJ don’t covet it!’? exclaimed Bob, very indignantly.

“ We all thought you wanted a surtout, Bobby !”

“Yes, but I want one of my own, not yours!” said Bob. It
was a praiseworthy sentiment, although it made the company
smile,

“ Well,” said Fred, “I’ve got one of my own; but it is not
a source of unmixed gratification. I soon found, after putting
it on, that I was treated with more respect by strangers than
before ; but I also found that they became more exacting.”

“¢ What’s exacting ?” says Bob.
Cuap. X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 167

“‘T mean they wanted more out of me. Beggars and others
would ask me for money who had not been accustomed to do
so before; and as my pocket-money had not lengthened like
my outer garment, this began to tell upon my resources. But
worse than all was the loss of a favourite pocket-handkerchief
and a book from my pockets, Now, a boy who only wears
a jacket can never lose anything out of his coattails.”

_ “Because he hasn’t got any,” suggested Bob.

“ Just so. You are an acute observer, my Bob!”

“T think there was something a good deal worse than the
loss of your handkerchief and book,” said Amy—‘“ at least it
vexed me a good deal more. What do you think, Hindbad ?
I was distressed for some things to finish a group of wax
flowers I was making for dear mamma, and asked Sindbad to
buy them for me.”

“So I did,” said Sindbad, looking very surprised.

So he did, Bobby. But then he put the parcel of delicate
wax sheets into his pocket, the pocket of his beautiful surtout,
and, then putting himself, his beautiful self, into an omnibus,
jammed all my nice material into such a condition that I
couldn’t use it. Next time I want stuff for my flowers, Bobby
shall fetch it. He wears an innocent jacket, and is not above
carrying a parcel.”

You do not suppose Amy was seriously vexed with Fred, do
you? or that she thought he was really and truly so weak and
foolish as to object to carry a parcel? Not she; she was only
joking him. I am sure, if I had thought Sindbad was above
using his hands for the purpose for which they were given to
him in behalf of his friends’ or his own wants, I should never
have written so much about him. No; all this was only playful
talk to keep up the joke of the surtout; and it went on a little
168 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, X.

while longer, till Fred interrupted it with a rap of his knuckles
on the table, which they all knew meant business; so that they
became suddenly attentive and quiet.

“We were talking last session,” said Fred, “ of the compara-
tive spirituality of mind among the worshippers of the gods in
ancient Greece. Of course, that is a matter at which we can
only guess. But we cannot but form a low estimate of the in-
telligence of the popular creed, when we remember how
Socrates was satirised for teaching a greatly-improved form of
it. I have copied out for you an extract from a translation of
‘ The Clouds’ of Aristophanes, in which you will see, by the
sort of ridicule to which Socrates was treated, how little he was
understood, and draw your inferences. If Bobby does not
quite understand it all now, he will at least enjoy the fun about
the broth-puddings at the time of the Panathenaic festival.
And how much more the Athenians must have enjoyed it, to
whom the allusion was a matter of yearly familiarity! It is So-
crates and Strepsiades who are conversing about the Clouds :—

Srreprs. Oh earth! what a sound! how august and profound! it fills
me with wonder and awe.
Soc. These, these then alone, for true Deities own; the rest are mere
godships of straw.
Srr. Let Zeus be left out: he’s a god beyond doubt: come, that you can
scarcely deny.
Soc. Zeus, indeed! there’s no Zeus : don’t you be so obtuse.
Srr. No Zeus up aloft in the sky!
Then, you first must explain, who it is sends the rain; or I really
must think you are wrong.
Soc. Well then, be it known, these * send it alone: I can prove it by
arguments strong.
Was there ever a shower seen to fall in an hour when the sky
was all cloudless and blue ?

* That is, the Clouds,”
Guar. X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL, 169

Srr.

Soc.

Str.

Soc.

Srr.

Soc.
Str.

Soc.

Str.
Soc.

Str.

Yet on a fine day, when the clouds are away, he might send one,
according to you.

Well, it must be confessed, that chimes in with the rest: your
words I am forced to believe.

Yet before I had dreamed that the rain-water streamed from Zeus
and his many-spaced sieve.

But whence then, my friend, does the thunder descend? that does
make me quake with affright!

Why ’tis they, I declare, as they roll through the air.

What! the clouds? did I hear you aright ?

Ay : for when to the brim filled with water they swim, by Necessity
carried along,

They are hung up on high in the vault of the sky, and so, by
Necessity strong,

In the midst of their course, they clash with great force, and
thunder away without end,

But is it not He who compels this to be? does not Zeus this
necessity send ?

No Zeus have we there ; but a Vortex of air.

What! Vortex? that’s something, I own.

I knew not before that Zeus was no more, but Vortex was placed
on his throne!

But I have not yet heard to what cause you referred the thunder’s
majestical roar.

Yes, ’tis they, when on high full of water they fly, and then, as I
told you before,

By Compression impelled, as they clash, are compelled a terrible
clatter to make.

Come, how can that be? I really don’t see.

Yourself as my proof I will take.

Have you never then ate the broth-puddings you get when the
Panathenxa comes round,

And felt with what might your bowels all night in turbulent
tumult resound ?

By Apollo, ’tis true, there’s a mighty to-do, and my belly keeps
rumbling about;

And the puddings begin to clatter within, and to kick up a won-
derful rout :

L
170 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, X,

Quite gently at first, papapax, papapax, but soon pappapapappax
away,
Till at last, I?ll be bound, clan thunder as loud, papapappapapappax
as They. i
Soc, Shalt thou then a sound so loud and profound from thy belly
diminutive send,
And shall not the high and infinite sky go thundering on without
end?
For both, you will find, on an impulse of mind and similar causes
depend.
Str. Well, but tell me from Whom comes the bolt through the gloom,
with its awful and terrible flashes ;
And wherever it turns, some it singes and burns, and some it reduces
to ashes !
For this is quite plain, let who will send the rain, that Zeus against
perjurers dashes.
Soc. And how, you old fool, of a dark ages’ school and an antediluvian wit,
If the perjured they strike, and not all men alike, have they never
Cleonymus hit?’

—and so forth ; making Socrates say what would pass for pro-
fanity with the populace.

“JT see what you meant by what you said before you began,”
observed Amy. ‘¢ You mean, if the Athenians enjoyed this
gross misrepresentation of the theology of Socrates, how very
little of that which is spiritual must there have been in their
minds to be appealed to.”

“ That is what I meant,” said Fred; ‘‘ and Bobby will know
all about it one of these days, and Bellatoo. In the mean time
I think we had better pass on from Greece and Grecian matters,
if there is anything to be said between us about other parts of
my travels,”

“JT think,” said Amy, “ when you detailed your conversation
with Mother Earth, you did not relate that she said anything to
you about the Dinornis, or great bird without wings; at first
Cuar, X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 173

guessed to have once existed by Professor Owen from fragments,
and now proved to have existed by coherent remains pieced
together. People laughed at the idea of a wingless bird, I
understand, when the idea was first broached; but the wings
seem to be of so little use to penguins, ostriches, dodos, and
barn-door fowl, that I never could make out the absurdity of a
bird entirely without wings.”

“Simdbad said nothing of the feast inside the Iguanodon,”
said Hetty, striking in. “ But that was a good joke. Mr.
Waterhouse Hawkins, who constructed the restorations of the
antediluvian animals under the superintendence of Professor
Owen, gave a grand dinner to him, Professor Forbes (who has
since died), and nineteen other gentlemen, inside the Iguanodon.
Professor Forbes, who was a man of very versatile genius, and
every way an ornament to the scientific society of London, com-
posed a song, with a roaring chorus, to be sung after dinner;
and it was actually sung, roaring and all :—

‘Beneath his hide he’s got inside
The souls of living men ;
Who dares our Saurian now deride,
With life in him again ?
The jolly old beast
Is not deceased,
There’s life in him again!”

After which came the roar; and I understand these twenty-one
gentlemen did roar with a vengeance.”

“ Like this? ” said Bob, flinging out his arms—“ R-r-r-r-rrr !””

“You can’t make as much noise as twenty-one men, Bob,”
said Bella. {

“ But what I want to know is, was that the way they roared ?”
said Bob.

L 2
172 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. X.

“‘ Well, I dare say that was something like it,” said Fred;
“but som don't one the whole twenty-one roared all alike, do

ou?’

Bob thought there was something in that, and, after regaling
himself with another roar, subsided into meditative silence for a
few moments. He broke it, however, before long by a question
to Fred. ,

“Tsay, Fred, where was it you went to when you saw the
men that stick bits of wood in their mouths and ears—what did
you call it—when you made that funny clicking noise in your
throat?”

“ Weissnichtwo ?”

“That is it. What does Weissnichtwo mean ?”

“Don’t know where.”

“Then, now I understand what you all meant when you said
it was where my five senses went to when I slept, and where
Romulus and Remus were suckled by a she-wolf, and where
Goody Two-Shoes was born; because I’ve heard Fred say that
story about Romulus and Remus is not true.”

soy put together,” said Fred, “ the Ethnological department
of the Crystal Palace and the Portrait Gallery, and called it all
Don’t-know-where ; because, of course, there is no place where
you could really see at once all that I put into that journey.”

“But you said nothing about those brown-looking Green-
landers, with their child, all in the snow?”

“‘T dare say; because that part of Weissnichtwo was being
turned upside down when I visited it. As for the Portrait Gal-
lery, I hardly spoke of it; but I will supply deficiencies in the
present I shall make to Hindbad instead of sequins, this very
day, when we have all done. Only I must tell him it will not
be all my doing. Amy and Hetty and Papa helped me, espe-
Cuap. X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 173

cially in the lives of the great men and women whose busts are
in the Portrait Gallery. Both the ladies are so anxious for
Hindbad to have a collar and coat after his own heart, that they
have set to work with a will, and assisted me in producing a
little Traveller’s Guide which will be of great use to him in
going over the ground I trod in my wonderful adventures.”

“JT think I should like to go to Pompeii better than anywhere
else, About when did the fatal eruption of Vesuvius occur?”
inquired Bobby.

“ Seventy-nine years after Christ,” replied Fred. “ The
cloud. of smoke and ashes caused by the eruption was actually
seen from Palestine to the east, and from Africa to the south ,
and the good people of Rome were startled to find day turned
into night by the unaccountable gloom of its sudden shadow,”

“JT found in a magazine,” said Amy, “a striking picture of
one of the incidents of the dreadful night, and I have cut it out
and brought it with me: shall I read it, or will Fred ?”

“ Let Bobby read it,” said Fred ; “I am sure he will read it
in a creditable manner.” And so Bobby, after a preliminary
blush or two, and a ‘‘don’t you look at me!” read as follows :—

“In digging out the ruins of Pompeii, every turn of the
spade brings up some relic of the ancient life, some witness of
Imperial luxury. For far the greater part these relics have a
merely curious interest; they belong to archeology, and find
appropriate resting-places in historical museums. But there are
some exceptions. Here, for instance, the exeavator drops, an
uninvited guest, upon a banquet: there he unexpectedly ob-
trudes himself into a tomb. In one place he finds a miser
cowering on his heaps: another shows him bones of dancing
girls, and broken instruments of music lying on the marble
floor. In the midst of painted chambers, baths, halls, columns,

Tie
174 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuar, X,

fountains—among the splendid evidences of material wealth—
he sometimes stumbles on a simple incident, a touching human
story, such as strikes the imagination and suggests the mournful
interest of the great disaster—as the sudden sight of a wounded
soldier conjures up the horrors of a field of battle. Such, to
our mind, is the latest discovery of the excavators in this melan-
choly field. It is a group of skeletons in the act of flight, ac-
companied by a dog. ‘There are three human beings, one of
them a young girl with gold rings and jewels still on her
fingers. The fugitives had bags of gold and silver with them,
snatched up, no doubt, in haste and darkness. But the fiery
flood was on their track, and vain their wealth, their flight,
the age of one, the youth of the other. The burning lava rolled
above them and beyond; and the faithful dog turned back to
share the fortunes of its mistress—dying at her side. Seen by
the light of such an incident, how vividly that night of horrors
looms upon the sense! Does not imagination picture that little
group, in their own house, by the side of their evening fountain,
languidly chatting over the day’s events and of the unusual
heat ? Does it not hear, with them, the troubled swell of the
waters in the bay—sce, as they do, how the night comes down
in sudden strangeness, how the sky opens over head and flames
break out, while scorie#, sand, and molten rocks come pouring
down? What movement, what emotion, what surprise! The
scene grows darker every instant—the hollow monotone of the
bay is lifted into yells and shrieks—the air grows thick with
dust and hot with flames—and at the mountain’s foot is heard the
deadly roll of the liquid lava. Jewels, household gods, gold
and silver coins, are snatched up on the instant. No time to
say farewell ; darkness in front and fire behind, they rush into
the streets choked with falling houses and flying citizens. How
Guar. X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 175

find they the way through passages which have no longer out-
lets ?—confusion, danger, darkness, uproar everywhere ;—the
shouts of parted friends, the agony of men struck down by
falling columns ;—fear, madness, and despair unchained ;—here,
Penury clutching gold it cannot keep; there, Gluttony feeding
on its final meal, and Frenzy striking in the dark to forestall
death. ‘Through all, fancy hears the young girl’s screams—the
fire is on her jewelled hand. No time for thought—no pause :
the flood rolls on—and wisdom, beauty, age, and youth, with all
the stories of their love, their hopes, their rank, wealth, great-
ness,—all the once affluent life—are gone for ever. When
unearthed after many ages, the nameless group has no other
importance to mankind than as it may ‘serve to point a moral
or adorn a tale.’”

“ That is rather a cold conclusion, I think,” remarked Hetty,
who was old enough to catch features in such things which
escaped Amy and the rest. ‘‘ An incident like this does more
than point a moral, to my thinking. It stirs up afresh the
sympathies without which all morals are powerless. It is
better for our hearts to feel with that bewildered girl, all the
way back across eighteen hundred years, than to get by heart
any ‘moral.’ At least, I fancy so—but J am only a girl.”

“ And quite enough, too,” says Fred, with a slight glaze
upon his eye, which did not escape Bobby’s notice. “A girl is
best qualified to think and to say such things as you have just
said. Thank you, Hetty.”

‘“‘ Fred’s going to cry, isn’t he?” whispers Bob to Bella, a
little maliciously.

“ Do you think nobody cries but you, little boy?” returned
Bella. Now that made Bobby rather ashamed—first, that Bella
should remember his wiping his eyes upon his hoop-stick and
176 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuapr, X,

his cuff in the garden ; and secondly, that she should call him
a little boy. But she could not bear to think that anybody
should be ridiculed for being soft-hearted.

“T think,” observed Amy, “ you said something about Pliny’s
letters giving an account of the eruption which buried Hercu-
laneum and Pompeii? Could you give us a more particular
account of them? And if you could (we know you can, you
are so clever), please will you?”

“ Amy, I never refuse anything to so kind and wise a friend
as you,” said Fred. “Iwas prepared for your demand; and
will read to you the first of Pliny’s letters to Tacitus, if you will
all listen. ‘Your request,’ says Pliny, ‘that I would send you
an account of my uncle’s death, in order to transmit a more
exact relation of it to posterity, deserves my acknowledgments ;
for if this accident shall be celebrated by your pen, the glory of
it, I am well assured, will be rendered for ever illustrious ; and,
notwithstanding he perished by a misfortune, which, as it in-
volved at the same time a most beautiful country in ruins, and
destroyed so many populous cities, seems to promise him an
everlasting remembrance—notwithstanding he has himself com-
posed many and lasting works, yet I am persuaded the mention-
ing of him in your immortal writings will greatly contribute to
eternise his name. Happy I esteem those to be whom Provi-
dence has distinguished with the abilities either of doing such
actions as are worthy of being related, or of relating them in a
manner worthy of being read ; but doubly happy are they who
are blessed with both these uncommon talents—in the number
of which my uncle, as his own writings and your history will
evidently prove, may justly be ranked. It is with extreme will-
ingness, therefore, that I execute your commands; and should
indeed have claimed the task, if you had not enjoined it.
Cuap, X. THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 177

“<¢My uncle was at the time, with the fleet under his com-
mand, at Misenum. On the 23rd of August, about one o’clock
in the afternoon, my mother desired him to observe a cloud
which appeared of a very unusual size and shape. He had just
returned from taking the benefit of the sun, and after bathing
himself in cold water, and taking a slight repast, had retired to
his study: he immediately arose and went out upon an eminence
from which he might more distinctly view this very uncommon
appearance. It was not at that distance discernible from what
mountain this cloud issued, but it was found afterwards to ascend
from Mount Vesuvius. I cannot give you a more exact de-
scription of its figure than by resembling it to that of a pine-
tree, for it shot up a great height in the form of a trunk, which
extended itself at the top into a sort of branches, occasioned, I
imagine, either by a sudden gust of air that impelled it, the
force of which decreased as it advanced upwards; or the cloud
itself, being pressed back again by its own weight, expanded in
this manner. It appeared sometimes bright, and sometimes
dark and spotted, as it was either more or less impregnated with
earth and cinders. This extraordinary phenomenon excited my
uncle’s philosophical curiosity to take a nearer view of it. He
ordered a light vessel to be got ready, and gave me the liberty,
if I thought proper, to attend him. I rather chose to continue
my studies; for, as it happened, he had given me an employ-
ment of that kind. As he was coming out of the house he re-
ceived a note from Rectina, the wife of Bassus, who was in the
utmost alarm at the imminent danger which threatened her ;
for her villa being situated at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, there
was no way to escape but by sea. She earnestly entreated him,
therefore, to come to her assistance. He accordingly changed
his first design; and what he began with a philosophical, he
178 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuap, X,

pursued with a heroical turn of mind, He ordered the galleys
to put to sea, and went himself on board, with an intention of
assisting not only Rectina, but several others; for the villas
stand extremely thick upon the beautiful coast. When hasten-
ing to the place from which others fled with the utmost terror,
he steered his direct course to the point of danger, and with so
much calmness and presence of mind as to be able to make and
dictate his observations upon the motion and figure of that
dreadful scene. He was now so nigh the mountain that the
cinders, which grew thicker and hotter the nearer he approached,
fell into the ships, together with pumicestones and black pieces
of burning rock ; they were likewise in danger not only of being
aground by the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from the vast
fragments which rolled down from the mountain, and obstructed
all the shore. Here he stopped to consider whether he should re-
turn back again, to which the pilot advised him.—* Fortune
favours the brave,” said he; “carry me to Pomponianus.”

“¢ Pomponianus was then at Stabiwe, separated by a gulf
which the sea, after several insensible windings, forms upon that
shore,¢ He had already sent his baggage on board ; for though
he was not at that time in actual danger, yet, being within the
view of it, and indeed extremely near if it should in the least
increase, he was determined to put to sea as soon as the wind
should change. It was favourable, however, for carrying my
uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in the greatest conster-
nation. He embraced him with tenderness, encouraging and
exhorting him to keep up his spirits; and the more to dissipate
his fears, he ordered, with an air of unconcern, the baths to be
got ready; when, after having bathed, he sat down to supper
with great cheerfulness, or at least (what is equally heroic) with
all the appearance of it. In the mean while the eruption from
Cuap. X. THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 173

Mount Vesuvius flamed out im several places with much vio-
lence, which the darkness of the night contributed to render
still more visible and dreadful. But my uncle, in order to
soothe the apprehensions of his friend, assured him it was only
the burning of the villages, which the country people had aban-
doned to the flames. After this he retired to rest, and it is
most certain he was so little discomposed as to fall into a deep
sleep; for, being pretty fat, and breathing hard, those who
attended without actually heard him snore. The court which
led to his apartment being now almost filled with stones and
ashes, if he had continued there any time longer it would have
been impossible for him to have made his way out; it was
thought proper, therefore, to awaken him. He got up, and
* went to Pomponianus and the rest of his company, who were
not unconcerned enough to think of going to bed. They con-
sulted together whether it would be most prudent to trust to
the houses, which now shook from side to side with frequent and
violent concussions, or fly to the open fields, where the calcined
stones and cinders, though light indeed, yet fell in large showers,
and threatened destruction. In this distress they resolved for
the fields, as the less dangerous situation of the two—a resolu-
tion which, while the rest of the company were hurried into it
by their fears, my uncle embraced upon cool and deliberate con-
sideration.

«They went out then, having pillows tied upon their heads
with napkins, and this was their whole defence against the
storm of stones that fell round them. Though it was now day
everywhere else, with them it was darker than the most obscure
night, excepting only what light proceeded from the fire and.
flames. They thought proper to go down farther upon the shore,
to observe if they might safely put out to sea ; but they found the
180 THE SYDENILAM SINDBAD. Guar. X,

waves still run extremely high and boisterous. There my uncle,

haying drunk a draught or two of cold water, threw himself
down upon a cloth which was spread for him, when immediately

the flames, and a strong smell of sulphur which was the fore-

runner of them, dispersed the rest of the company, and obliged

him to arise. He raised himself up with the assistance of two

of his servants, and instantly fell down deadsuffocated, as I

conjecture, by some gross and noxious vapour, having always -
had weak lungs, and frequently subjected to a difficulty of
breathing. As soon as it was light again, which was not till

the third day after this melancholy accident, his body was found

entire, and without any marks of violence upon it, exactly in

the same posture that he fell, and looking more like a man

asleep than dead.’ . . .

“Pliny, the nephew, stayed with his mother on the other side of
the water, at Misenum, where all was darkness, convulsion, and
terror. When, on the first morning after the eruption, they
made up their minds to quit the town, they found their chariots
pitching and rolling in a very alarming manner, strange mo-
tions in the sea, and torrents of smoke and ashes falling above
and around. Pursued by a terrified crowd, Pliny, who would
not, though she pressed him to do so, abandon his aged mother,
turned aside his chariot and hers from the main road to avoid
the pressure of the maddened people. In another instant the
last ray of daylight disappeared in a cloud of smoke and ashes.
Men, women, and children set up a chorus of agony, and the
terror and confusion were past all description. Then came a
sudden flash of light, and the crater belched forth its red-hot
horrors till both Pliny and his mother feared for their lives.
By degrees the showers of cinders and stones ceased, and the
sun peeped palely out; but not to show the face of nature like
Cap. X. THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL, 181

what it had been before—for white ashes covered everything in
piled heaps, as if with snow, only not quite so white.”

“Oh!” said all the voices at once, in an under-breathed way
which showed how deeply they had all caught the terribleness
of the story. But Bobby asked what young Pliny meant by
speaking of his uncle “ taking the benefit of the sun.”

“It was,” said Fred, “part of the daily regimen of a respect-
able Roman, and considered very conducive to health, to anoint
the body with oil, and then to walk about or lie down in the
sun. Suppose we add to the accoutit given by Pliny, that by
Sir William Hamilton of an eruption in June, 1794, preceded
by the usual symptoms, such as a drying up of the wells, and
the shocks of an earthquake. Then came the clouds of smoke,
and the bursts of fiery matter from the terrible mountain. ‘It
is impossible,’ says Sir William Hamilton in a letter to Sir
Joseph Banks, ‘for any description to give an idea of this fiery
scene, or of the horrid noises that attended this great operation
of nature. It resembled the loudest thunder, accompanied by
a continued hollow murmur, like that of the roaring of the
ocean during a violent storm; and added to these sounds was
another blowing noise, like that of the going up of a large flight
of sky-rockets. The frequent falling of the huge stones and
scorie, which were thrown up to an incredible height from
some of the new mouths, and one of which, having been since
measured, was ten feet high and thirty-five in circumference,
contributed undoubtedly to the concussion of the earth and air,
which kept all the houses at Naples for several hours in a
constant tremor, every door and window shaking and rattling
incessantly, and the bells ringing. This was an awful moment!
The sky, from a bright full moon and starlight, began to be
obscured ; the moon had presently the appearance of being in

M
182 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. X.

an eclipse, and soon after was totally lost in obscurity. The
murmur of the prayers and lamentations of a numerous populace,
forming various processions, and parading in the streets, added
likewise to the horror, As the lava did not appear to me to
have yet a sufficient vent, and it was now evident that the
earthquakes we had already felt had been occasioned by the air
and fiery matter confined within the bowels of the mountain,
and probably at no small depth (considering the extent of
those earthquakes), I recommended to the company that was
with me, who began to be much alarmed, rather to go and
view the mountain at some greater distance, and in the open
air, than to remain in the house, which was on the sea-side, and
in that part of Naples nearest and most exposed to Vesuvius.
We accordingly went to Posilippo, and viewed the conflagration,
now become still more considerable, from the sea-side under
that mountain ; but whether from the eruption having increased,
or from the loud reports of the yolcanic explosions being repeated
by the mountain behind us, the noise was much louder and
more alarming than that we had heard in our first position, at
least a mile nearer to Vesuvius. After some time, and which
was about two o'clock in the morning of the 16th, having
observed that the lava ran in abundance freely, and with great
velocity, having made a considerable progress towards Resina,
the town which it first threatened, and that the fiery vapours
which had been confined had now free vent, through many
parts of a crack of more than a mile and a half in length, as
was evident from the quantity of inflamed matter and black
smoke which continued to issue from the new mouths above-
mentioned without any interruption, I concluded that at Naples
all danger from earthquakes, which had been my greatest
apprehension, was now totally removed, and we returned to our
Cuap. X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 183

former station, About five o’clock in the morning of the 16th
we could plainly perceive that the lava, which had first broke
out from the several new mouths on the south side of the
mountain, had reached the sea, and was running into it, having
overwhelmed, burnt, and destroyed the greatest part of Torre
del Greco, the principal stream of lava having taken its course
through the very centre of the town. We observed from
Naples that, when the laya was in the vineyards in its way to
the town, there issued often, and in different parts of it, a
bright pale flame, and very different from the deep red of the
lava: this was occasioned by the burning of the trees that
supported the vines. Soon after the beginning of this eruption,
ashes fell thick at the foot of the mountain, all the way from
Portici to the Torre del Greco; and what is remarkable,
although there were not at that time any clouds in the air, except
those of smoke from the mountain, the ashes were wet, and
accompanied with large drops of water, which, as I have been
well assured, were to the taste very salt. The road, which is
payed, was as wet as if there had been a heavy shower of rain,
The lava ran but slowly at Torre del Greco after it had reached
the sea; and on the 17th of June, in the morning, when I went
in my boat to visit that unfortunate town, its course was stopped,
excepting that at times a little rivulet of liquid fire issued from
under the smoking scorie into the sea, and caused a hissing
noise and a white yapour-smoke ; at other times a quantity of
large scoriz was pushed off the surface of the body of the
laya into the sea, discovering that it was red-hot under that
surface; and even to this day the centre of the thickest part
of the lava that covers the town retains its red heat. I observed
that the sea-water was boiling as in a caldron, where it washed
the foot of a new-formed promontory; and although I was at
M 2
184 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Guar. X,

least a hundred yards from it, observing that the sea smoked
near my boat, I put my hand into the water, which was literally
scalded ; and by this time my boatmen observed that the pitch
fiom the bottom of the boat was melting fast, and floating on
the surface of the sea, and that the boat began to leak: we
therefore retired hastily from this spot, and landed at some
distance from the hot lava. The town of Torre del Greco
contained about 18,000 inhabitants, all of whom (except about
fifteen, who from either age or infirmity could not be moved,
and were overwhelmed by the lava in their houses) escaped
either to Castel-a-mare, which was the ancient Stabie, or to
Naples; but the rapid progress of the lava was such, after
it had altered its course from Resina—which town it first
threatened—and had joined a fresh lava that issued from one of
the new mouths in a vineyard about a mile from the town;
that it ran like a torrent over the town of Torre del Greco,
allowing the unfortunate inhabitants scarcely time to save their
lives. Their goods and effects were totally abandoned; and
indeed several of the inhabitants, whose houses had been
surrounded with lava whilst they remained in them, escaped
from them and saved their lives the following day by coming
out of the tops of their houses, and walking over the scoria: on
the surface of the red-hot lava.’

“So much for eruptions of Vesuvius, and for Pliny and Sir
William Hamilton,” said Fred. ‘But there is such an ani-
mated description of Pompeii in the letters of the poet Shelley,
that I have asked papa to let me copy it out for you. He read it
to me one evening during my travels, and I think it is one of the
clearest and most straightforward bits of description I ever read
in my life.

“ Writing to a friend in 1819, Shelley says—‘Since you last
Cuap. X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 185

heard from me, we have been to see Pompeii. I was astonished
at the remains of this city ; I had no conception of anything so
perfect yet remaining. My idea of the mode of its destruction
was this. First, an earthquake shattered it, and unroofed almost
all its temples aud split its columns; then a rain of light small
pumicestones fell; then torrents of boiling water mixed with
ashes filled up all its crevices. A wide, flat hill, from which
the city was excavated, is now covered by thick woods, and you
see the tombs and the theatres, the temples and the houses,
surrounded by the uninhabited wilderness. We entered the
town from the side towards the sea, and first saw two theatres,
one more magnificent than the other, strewn with the ruins of
the white marble which formed their seats and cornices, wrought
with deep bold sculpture. In the front, between the stage and
the seats, is the circular space occasionally occupied by the
chorus. The stage is very narrow, but long, and divided from
this space by a narrow enclosure parallel to it, I suppose for the
orchestra. On each side are the consuls’ boxes, and below, in
the theatre at Herculaneum, were found two equestrian statues
of admirable workmanship. The smallest of the theatres is
said to have been comic, though I should doubt it. From both,
you see, as you sit on the seats, a prospect of the most
wonderful beauty. You then: pass through the ancient streets:
they are very narrow, and the houses rather small, but con-
structed on an admirable plan, especially for this climate. The
rooms are built round a court, or sometimes two, according to
the extent of the house. In the midst is a fountain, sometimes
surrounded with a portico supported on fluted columns of white
stucco; the floor is paved with mosaic, sometimes wrought in
imitation of vine-leaves, sometimes in quaint figures, and more
or less beautiful according to the rank of the inhabitant, There
186 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar. X,

were paintings on all, but most of them have been removed, to
decorate the royal museums. Little winged figures, and small
ornaments of exquisite elegance, yet remain. There is an ideal
life in the forms of these paintings, of an incomparable loveliness,
though most are evidently the work of very inferior artists. It
seems as if, from the atmosphere of mental beauty which
surrounded them, every human being caught a splendour not
his own. In one house you see how the bedrooms were managed :
a small sofa was built up, where the cushions were placed; two
pictures, one representing Diana and Endymion, the other
Venus and Mars, decorate the chamber; and a little niche,
which contains the statue of a domestic god. The floor is
composed of a rich mosaic of the rarest marbles, agate, jaspar,
and porphyry; it looks to the marble fountain and the snow-
white columns whose entablatures strew the floor of the portico
they supported. The houses have only one story, and the apart-
ments, though not large, are very lofty. A great advantage
results from this, wholly unknown in our cities. The public
buildipgs, whose ruins are now forests, as it were, of white fluted
columns, and which then supported entablatures loaded with
sculptures, were seen on all sides over the roofs of the houses.
This was the excellence of the ancients. Their private expenses
were compatatively moderate: the dwelling of one of the chief
senators of Pompeii is elegant indeed, and adorned with most
beautiful specimens of art, but small. But their public buildings
are everywhere marked by the bold and grand designs of an
unsparing magnificence. In this little town of Pompeii it is
wonderful to see the number and grandeur of their public
buildings. Another advantage, too, is, that in the present case
the glorious scenery around is not shut out, and that, unlike the
inhabitants of the Cimmerian ravines of modern cities, the ancient
Cuap, X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. : 187

Pompeians could contemplate the clouds and the lamps of
heaven; could see the moon rise high behind Vesuvius, and
the sun set in the sea tremulous with an atmosphere of golden
vapour, between Inarime and Misenum. We next saw the
temples. Of the temple of Esculapius little remains but an
altar of black stone, adorned with a cornice imitating the scales
of a serpent. His statue in terra-cotta was found in the cell.
The temple of Isis is more perfect. It is surrounded by a
portico of fluted columns, and in the area around it are two
altars and many ceppi.’ What does that mean, Amy? It is
Ttalian, is it not?”

“You should call it sheppi,” said Amy, smiling. “T suppose
it means a sort of block or tall pedestal. Ceppo is Italian for
the trunk of a tree.”

“Thank you, dear,” said Fred. “‘ Many ceppi for statues ;
and a little chapel of white stucco as hard as stone, of the most
exquisite proportion; its panels adorned with figures in bas-
relief, slightly indicated, but of a workmanship the most delicate
and perfect that can be conceived. ‘They are Egyptian subjects,
executed bya Greek artist, who has harmonized all the unnatural
extravagances of the original conception into the supernatural
loveliness of his country’s genius. They scarcely touch the
ground with their feet, and their wind-uplifted robes seem in
the place of wings. The temple in the midst, raised on a high
platform and approached by steps, was decorated with exquisite
paintings, some of which we saw in the museum at Portici. It
is small, of the same materials as the chapel, with a pavement of
mosaic and fluted Ionic columns of white stucco—so white that
it dazzles your eyes to look at it. ‘Thence, through other por-
ticos and labyrinths of walls and columns (for I cannot hope to
detail everything to you), we came to the Forum. This is a
188 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuar, X.

large square, surrounded by lofty porticos of fluted columns, some
broken, some entire, their entablatures strewed under them.
The temple of Jupiter, of Venus, and another temple, the 'Tri-
bunal, and the Hall of Public Justice, with their forests of lofty
columns, surround the Forum. Two pedestals or altars of an
enormous size (for whether they supported equestian statues, or
were the altars of the temple of Venus, the guide could not tell)
occupy the lower end of the.forum. At the upper end, sup-
ported on an elevated platform, stands the temple of Jupiter,
Under the colonnade of its portico we sat and pulled out cur
oranges, and figs, and bread, and medlars (sorry fare, you will
say), and rested to eat. Here was a magnificent spectacle.
Above and between the multitudinous shafts of the sun-shining
columns was seen the sea, reflecting the purple heaven of noon
above it, and supporting, as it were, on its line, the dark lofty
mountains of Sorrento, of a blue inexpressibly deep, and tinged
towards their summits with streaks of new-fallen snow. Between
was one small green island. To the right were Capree, Inarime,
Prochyta, and Misenum. Behind was the single summit of
Vesuvius, rolling forth volumes of thick white smoke, whose
foam-like column was sometimes darted into the clear dark sky,
and fell in little streaks along the wind. Between Vesuvius and
the nearer mountains, as through a chasm, was seen the main
line of the loftiest Apennines, to the east. The day was radiant
and warm. Every now and then we heard the subterranean
thunder of Vesuvius ; its distant deep peals seemed to shake the
very air and light of day, which interpenetrated our frames with
the sullen and tremendous sound—— ”’

“O, how disagreeable!” cried Bella; “I should not like to be
so near Vesuvius as that, if it keeps up grumbling so.”

“I suppose,” suggested Bob, “it is nothing when you’re used
to it!”
Cua. X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL, 189

“Tf I remember rightly,” said Fred, “ Sir William Hamilton
mentions, in the letter to Sir Joseph Banks from which I read
you an extract, that the people whose homesteads had been de-
stroyed by the eruption obstinately returned to rebuild them
upon the same perilous spot, as soon as the subsidence of the
angry mountain’s rage permitted them to do so. Well, Shelley
goes on:—‘ From the Forum we went to another public place—
a triangular portico, half enclosing the ruins of an enormous
temple. It is built on the edge of the hill, overlooking the sea.
That black point is the temple. In the apex of the triangle
stand an altar and a fountain, and before the altar once stood
the statue of the builder of the portico. Returning hence, and
following the consular road, we came to the eastern gate of the
city. The walls are of enormous strength and enclose a space
of three miles. On each side of the road beyond the gate are
built the tombs. How unlike ours! They seem not so much
hiding-places for that which must decay as voluptuous chambers
for immortal spirits. They are of marble, radiantly white ; and
two, especially beautiful, are loaded with exquisite bas-reliefs.
On the stucco-wall that encloses them are little emblematic
figures, of a relief exceedingly low, of dead and dying animals
and little winged genii, and female forms bending in groups in
some funereal office. The higher reliefs represent, one a nau-
tical subject, and the other a Bacchanalian one. Within the cell
stand the cinerary urns, sometimes one, sometimes more. It is
said that paintings were found within, which are now, as has
been everything moveable in Pompeii, removed and scattered
about inroyal museums. These tombs were the most impressive
things of all. The wild woods surround them on either side,
and along the broad stones of the paved road which divides them
you hear the late leaves of autumn shiver and rustle in the stream

M 3
190 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cap. X,

of the inconstant wind, as it were, like the step of ghosts. The
radiance and magnificence of these dwellings of the dead, the
white freshness of the scarcely tarnished marble, the impassioned
or imaginative life of the figures which adorn them, contrast
strangely with the simplicity of the houses of those who were
living when Vesuvius overwhelmed them. The amphitheatre is
of great magnitude, though much inferior to the Coliseum.’ So
much for Shelley at Pompeii.”

“T am sure,” said Amy, “we are all very much obliged to you
for copying out such a long story for us. It is all very real and
straightforward, as you said. But, to change the scene from
Pompeii to the imperial city itself, I was going to venture to say
I fancied your Mr. Apollo was rather too hard upon the old
Romans.”

“JT am prepared for that criticism,” says Fred; “and, by
way of making the magnificent old soldiers some amends, I have
made another extract from Shelley’s letters about Rome itself,
giving the liveliest impression of fzs impression of the grandeur
and magnificence of the crownless ‘ Niobe of Nations,’ as Byron
calls her.”

“ T know,” said Bob, “ I say it at school :—

‘The Niobe of nations! there she stands,
Childless, and crownless in her voiceless woe ;
An empty urn within her wither’d hands,
Whose holy dust was scatter’d long ago,’”

Yes, Bob; and those lines, of which you quote the first four,
are among the finest Byron ever wrote. Shelley says—‘* Rome
is yet the capital of the world. It is a city of palaces and tem-
ples more glorious than those which any other city contains, and
of ruins more glorious than they. Seen from any of the emi-
nences that surround it, it exhibits domes beyond domes, and
Cuap. X. THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 191

palaces, and colonnades interminably, even to the horizon, in-
terspersed with patches of desert, and mighty ruins which stand
girt by their own desolation, in the midst of the fanes of living
religions, and the habitations of living men, in sublime loneli=
Mess) tos I walk forth in the purple and golden light of an
Italian evening, and return by star or moon light through this
scene. The els are just budding, and the warm spring winds
bring unknown odours, all sweet, from the country. I see the
radiant Orion through the mighty columns of the temple of
Concord, and the mellow fading light softens down the modern
buildings of the Capitol, the only ones that interfere with the
sublime desolation of the scene. On the steps of the Capitol
itself stand the colossal statues of Castor and Pollux, each with
his horse ; finely executed, though far inferior to those of Monte
Cavallo, the cast of one of which you know we saw together in
London. ... . We visit the Forum and the ruins of the Coli-
seum every day. The Coliseum is unlike any work of human
hands I ever saw before. It is of enormous height and circuit,
and _the arches, built of massy stones, are piled on one another,
and jut into the blue air, shattered into the forms of overhang-
ing rocks. It has been changed by time into the image of an
amphitheatre of rocky hills, overgrown by the wild olive, the
myrtle, and the fig-tree, and threaded by little paths which
wind among its ruined stairs and immeasurable galleries: the
copsewood overshadows you as you wander through its laby-
rinths, and the wild weeds of this climate of flowers bloom under
your feet. The arena is covered with grass, and pierces, like
the skirts of a natural plain, the chasms of the broken arches
around. Butasmall part of the exterior circumference remains :
it is exquisitely light and beautiful; and the effect of the per-
fection of its architecture, adorned with ranges of Corinthian
192 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, X.

pilasters, supporting a bold cornice, is such as to diminish the
effect of its greatness. The interior is all ruin. I can scarcely
believe that when encrusted with Dorian marble aid ornamented
by columns of Egyptian granite its effect could have been so
sublime and impressive as in its present state.’””

‘“* Why, no,” said Hetty, “ it was built for use and for occupa-
tion; but there was one time when it must have looked impres-
sive, when full of the thousands of living people who thronged
to see the gladiatorial shows.”

“ Right, Hetty: a mass of human beings is always sublime.

“ Let us take one more picture from Shelley’s account of
Rome, and then we will pass on to something else. ‘ The foun-
tain on the Quirinal, or rather the group formed by the statues,
obelisk, and the fountain, is, however, the most admirable of all.
From the Piazza Quirinale, or rather Monte Cavallo, you see
the boundless ocean of domes, spires, and columns, which is the
City, Romr. On a pedestal of white marble rises an obelisk of
red granite, piercing the blue sky. Before it is a vast basin of
porphyxy, in the midst of which rises a column of the purest
water, which collects into itself all the overhanging colours of
the sky, and breaks them into a thousa d prismatic hues and
graduated shadows—they fall, together with its dashing water-
drops, into the outer basin. The elevated situation of this
fountain produces, I imagine, this effect of colour. On each
side, on an elevated pedestal, stand the statues of Castor and
Pollux, each in the act of taming his horse; which are said, but
I believe wholly without authority, to be the work of Phidias
and Praxiteles. ‘These figures combine the irresistible energy
with the sublime and perfect loveliness supposed to have be-
ionged to their divine nature. The reins no longer exist;
but the position of their hands, and the sustained and calm com-
Caap. X. THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 193

mand of their regard, seem to require no mechanical aid to en-
force obedience. The countenances at so great a height are
scarcely visible, and I have a better idea of that of which we
saw a cast together in London than of the other. But the sub-
lime and living majesty of their limbs and mien, the nervous
and fiery animation of the horses they restrain, seen in the blue
sky of Italy, and overlooking the city of Rome, surrounded by
the light and the music of that crystalline fountain, no cast can
communicate.—These figures were found at the Baths of Con-
stantine ; but are, of course, of remote antiquity. I do not ac-
quiesce, however, in the practice of attributing to Phidias, or
Praxiteles, or Scopas, or some great master, any admirable
work that may be found. We find little of what remained, and
perhaps the works of these were such as greatly surpassed all
that we can conceive of most perfect and admirable in what
little has escaped the deluge (of ruin). If, concludes Shelley,
‘if Iam too jealous of the honour of the Greeks, our masters
and creators, the gods pardon me!’”

“I know what Fred laid so much stress upon that last bit for,”
said Bob ; “because he means to say somebody else is jealous for
his Greeks beside himself and his friend Apollo.’ After de-
livering himself of this profound piece of criticism, the young
gentleman suggested a change of scene. He wanted to get to
Assyria. He had brought with him, to read and laugh over, the
letter of Imaum Ali Zadi, rebuking the inquisitive tendency of
the infidel Frank, Layard :— i

“ My Illustrious Friend and Joy of my Liver,—The thing
you ask of me is both difficult and useless. Although I have
passed all my days in this place, I have neither counted the
houses nor have I inquired into the number of the inhabitants ;
and as to what one person loads on his mules and the other stows
Â¥
194 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, X,

away in the bottom of his ship, that is no business of mine. But,
above all, as to the previous history of this city, God only knows
the amount of dirt and confusion that the infidels may have eaten
before the coming of the sword of Islam. It were impossible for
us to inquire into it. O my soul! O my lamb! seek not after
the things which concern thee not: Thou camest unto us, and
we welcomed thee: go in peace. Of a truth, thou hast spoken
many words, and there is no harm done, for the speaker is one
and the listener is another. After the fashion of thy people, thou
hast wandered from one place to another, until thou art happy
and content in none. We (praise be to God!) were born here,
and never desire to quit it. Listen,O my son. There is no
wisdom equal unto the belief in God. He created the world;
and shall we liken ourselves unto Him, in seeking to penetrate
into the mysteries of his creation? shall we say, Behold this star
spinneth round that star, and this other star, with a tail, goeth
and cometh inso many years? Let it go. He from whose hand
it caméwill guide and direct it. But thou wilt say unto me,
‘Stand aside, O man, for I am more learned than thou art, and
have seen more things,’ If thou thinkest that thou art in this
respect better than I am, thou art welcome. I praise God that
I seek not that which I require not. Will much knowledge
create thee a double belly, or wilt thou seek paradise with thine
eyes ?”

“T think,” said Bob, “that is what Irish people call blarney,
isn’t it? But what trouble Mr. Layard must have had in getting
all his excavations made, when the natives are so ignorant and
foolish.”

“ And how wonderful to think,” said Amy, “that whereas
Nineveh was destroyed and Assyria discovered two thousand five
hundred years ago, and the monster city has lain buried and
Onap. X. THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL, 195

concealed nearly all that while, the French and we have made
such discoveries within these ten years—for it is not much more
than that since M. Botta, the French Consul at Mossul, made
the first important find of sculptural remains ! ”

* And to think,” said Hetty—for the theme was enough to
make any one philosophical“ to think both of the largeness
and the littleness of human interests in the light of this Assyrian
—mystery, I think we might call it! How excited we get over a
trifle that happens to a next-door neighbour, or a resident a few
streets off; over an accident to a single baby, or the violent death
of a man. And here—here was a city which contained, Jonah
says, one hundred and twenty thousand little children, and a
male population in proportion—it has been hidden under drifted
sand for scores of generations, and nobody has missed it.”

“ But the interest we creatures of flesh and blood,’ said Fred,
“feel in all flesh-and-blood doings soon asserts itself when we
discover that it has been overlooked. In a few more years we
shall almost wonder how we could ever have got on without
knowing all about these curious old Puls, and Sargons, and
Shalmanesers, and Sennacheribs: only, to be sure, they have
left neither art nor literature, neither books nor buildings nor
statues, which can ever work their way into our inmost minds,
grow there, and influence our own ideas.”

“T know what I should have liked to see best, in all Assyrian
history,” said Bob.

“ What ?” asked Fred.

‘‘ Why, Semiramis, when she ran out of her room where she
was doing up her hair, with one side of her head all dressed
and the other all ragged, to put down a disturbance in the city.
How funny she must have looked! I’d have said, ‘O joy of my
liver, where are you going to, cutting such a figure as that, like
195 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, Cuar. X.

my son John, one leg off and one leg on—what do you think of
my son John?’ Whata funny woman she must have been, con-
sidering she was brought up by pigeons after she was cast out
upon the rock! A coward ought not to be called pigeon-hearted,
Lam sure. They used to worship her, I’ve read, under the form
of a dove, and she wasn’t a coward.”

“ Ah,” said Fred to Amy, “ how unchangeable human nature
is! See what notice was taken of a lady going out-a-doors with
her hair untidy, and how it is remembered hundreds and hun-
dreds of years!”

“Not a bit more,” said Amy, “ than it would have been if
Shalmaneser had rushed out of his palace to quell a tumult, with
one side of his chin lathered and the other clean-shaved.”

“ The Assyrians didn’t shave,” said Fred.

“Then they ought to have done,” said Amy.

“ But if they had spent so much time in shaving,” said Hetty,
“ they never could have executed those stupendous works of theirs.
Just think of a palace three miles and three quarters round, and
another seven miles round, and gardens supported on cloisters
inside the city—not flower-gardens only, but gardens where the
tallest trees might grow! Just think of a lake as far round as
all London, dug to prevent the chance of the city being swamped
by any overflow of the river. Just think of ten thousand men
being set by Alexander to clear out the ruins of the temple of
Belus, and hardly making any impression upon the work in three
months! No: these people had no time for any such weakness
as shaving.” !

“T am afraid,” said Amy, “ your argument will not hold good.
The Egyptians shaved ; and, besides, it is possible to spend more
time in dressing the beard than in cutting it off, and I must say
the beards of these Assyrians look as if a good deal of trouble
Cuar, X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 197

had been spent upon them. Perhaps they did them up in brown
paper every night, as they used to do in England once.”

‘“‘ Well, suppose we dismiss the great beard question,” said
Fred. “One thing is clear, that the Assyrians built stupendous
palaces and temples, and that they more utterly lost themselves
in the jaws of the old edax rerum than the glories of any other
nations of antiquity—more even than those of the ancient Mexi-
cans. Of course, the reason is that the materials they used for
building purposes were chiefly sun-dried bricks of clay mixed
with chopped straw, with cedar-wood for pillars, and occasional
facings of alabaster and other materials. Of course, when build-
ings so constructed once began to totter, their size made the ruin
worse, and the material would soon mix with the ground on which
they stood. Then would come the sand of the desert, and
heap layer after layer upon the blocks of rubbish, and there
would remain only mounds of earth where had been temples and
towers. Such mounds as these were actually all that told of
Nineveh, and they were cultivated and built on by the Arabs,
who were not without fragmentary traditions of the origin of
these risings in the plains, though very much indisposed to meddle
with them, as Bobby’s letter to the ‘ Joy of my Liver’ hinted.
Mr. Layard says that the discovery of a colossal human head at
an early stage of his excavations caused so much terror among
the ignorant workmen and the people of Mossul, that he was
forced for a while to suspend his labours. ‘That they were re-
sumed, and with signal success, we all know. How they found
portions of several palaces; tablets with arrow-headed inscrip-
tions, which have been partly deciphered; human-headed and
eagle-winged bulls ; obelisks of black marble; military records,
which, on being translated, were found to contain numerous
references to Scripture names and Scripture events ; and material
198 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap, X,

enough, in various shapes, to authorise that attempt at restoring for
modern eyes the general characteristics of Assyrian architecture
which has been made at Sydenham, and whereof I, your faithful
Sindbad, did somewhat discourse in my travels to Wonderland.”

“T have heard,” said Amy, “that it was a German gentle-
man who obtained the first clue to the translation of the arrow-
headed characters ?”

“Yes,” said Fred, “one Professor Grotefend, of Bonn; he
made out the words ‘Darius’ and ‘ Xerxes,’ with a few con-
nected words; and then our own gifted and energetic country-
man, Colonel Rawlinson, attacked an inscription upon a rock,
lying three hundred feet above the level of the plain, which con-
tained about a hundred proper names in Persian as well as
Assyrian. This inscription had to be read and transcribed by
the aid of powerful glasses; but, being in love with his task,
Colonel Rawlinson laughed at difficulties and defeated them.
Ah! what a thing it is to be in love with one’s work !

“The arrow-headed (or cuneiform) character was easily
chiselled, and the Assyrians confided their historic records to
rocks and stone tablets, or to cylinders of baked earth. But the
bas-reliefs tell stories about which there is no difficulty and no
mistake, as with the written characters. For instance, some of
them represent the process of building a palace, from the efforts
of the workmen in raising the artificial mound upon which the
foundation was laid, for dignity, for coolness, or for safety from
inundation, to the raising of the stupendous sculptures to their
places, there to be finished by the hand of the artist.”

“TI always feel to be in a sort of confusion,” said Hetty,
“between Nitocris and Semiramis, and Nineveh and Babylon,

and I cannot get any clear idea of Assyrian chronology into my
head at all.”
Cuap. X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 199

“ Ah, Hetty,” said Sindbad, “ wiser people,—I mean ”—
Fred interrupted himself, and made the hotou with his head on
the table—“ I mean more learned people than you are in similar
confusion : the pretensions of the Chaldeans in point of antiquity
are at least as great as those of Egypt, and as irreconcileable
with any recognised chronologic data. Old Berosus carries
back the empire of Babylon to the creation of the world, and,
counting ten kings to the first dynasty, makes them reign alto-
gether 432,000 years. The ordinary Biblical chronology places
the origin of the kingdoms of Babylon and Nineveh in the fifth
generation after the Deluge, 2218 years before Christ. The
Bible, in mentioning Nimrod and Asshur as the builders of
Babel and Nineveh, indicates that they were the founders of the
empite of Chaldea and that of Assyria. In the time of Nim-
rod the religion of the Babylonians would seem to have been a
kind of theism, which, later on, underwent corruption after cor-
ruption, until it became a positive idolatry ; when Nimrod was
worshipped under the name of Bel, or Baal, and confounded
with the sun in the vulgar mind. About the sixteenth century
before Christ an Arabian invasion, analogous to that of the
Shepherd Kings in Egypt, took place ; the invaders seized and
occupied Babylon, whose population had then become enervated
by idleness and luxury. The Assyrians were of stouter stuff,
and Nineveh held out. Three centuries later Belus, one of the
Ninevite monarchs, perceiving that the Arab invaders had
caught the enervated spirit of the Babylonians and become
feeble in their turn, attacked them vigorously, turned them out,
and ‘ annexed’ Babylon to his own empire. It was then that
Babylon became tributary to Assyria, and the second capital in
the empire. Then followed the reign of Ninus, son of Belus,
and the beautification and aggrandisement of Babylon by his
200 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD, mar, X,

wife Semiramis, of whom such wonderful stories are told. Be-
tween her, however, and Nitocris, wife of Nebuchadnezzar the
Second—(the one who set up the colossal Bel, and was turned
out to eat grass for his pride)—there is infinite confusion. It is
said that she governed Babylon during her husband’s insanity
with great glory, great moderation, and great modesty ; and as
a proof of her modesty it is mentioned that during her seven
years’ regency this Median princess did not have her name
stamped on a single brick of a single edifice built during that
period ; it was always the name of her husband. He and his
wife together seem to have built up a new Babylon beside the
old, as well as restored the latter. It is said that Nebuchad-
nezzar, to please her taste for a mountainous country, had arti-
ficial mountains built all round her palace ; covered with vege-
tation of all kinds—which constituted the hanging gardens we
have been talking of. But it has been observed that it was
not only to please the mountain fancies of a Median woman,
but to give her the benefit of as low a temperature as possible,
that these green heights were built up for her. Accustomed to
the cook breezes of a hilly country, the wife of Nebuchadnezzar
would have stifled perhaps in the temperature of the plains,
which has been compared to that of the ‘ burning fiery furnace
which Nebuchadnezzar set up.’ A great French authority upon
Assyrian matters says, ‘I, who had already passed twelve
years of my life in tropical climates, was forced to put on
clothes dipped in water, in order to keep at all cool.’ It is the
same author who thinks he has found the eye of Nitocris!”
“The eye of Nitocris! preserved in spirits?” said Bob.
“Diodorus, says my authority,” continued Fred, “ relates,
after Ctesias, that Nitocris was represented upon the mosaics of
the innermost walls of the valace aiming a javelin at a panther ;
Cuap. X. THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 201

and it is upon the enamelled fragments of these mosaics dis-
covered at Kasr that M. Fresnel has found that blue eye to
which it appeared to him a Mede, a daughter of the north of
Asia, has incontestable rights.”

“Poor old Nitocris!” said Bob; “to think that her blue eye
should keep so long!”

“In enamel, Bob, you know! But believe, if you can, Hind-
bad, and ladies all, that one tree of her gardens is still imagined
to be standing—a tamarind-tree—solitary and sad, on the top of
a hillock! However, some of the most curious of the discoveries
in the neighbourhood of the Euphrates appear to me to have been
those of skeletons. One day, when the Euphrates had sunk
below the ordinary low-water mark, some sarcophagi of baked
earth (¢erra-cotta) were found. They were of exceedingly small
size, and the skeleton tenants were packed inside in a very
unusual way, the knees doubled up and touching the chin, and
the arms crossed between the chest and the legs. Though these
sarcophagi were found on a level with the foundations of ancient
Babylonian temples, and a Chaldean origin for them can very
well be conceived, some critics in these matters attribute them
to the Parthians. But, south of Kasr, the French expedition of
discovery found, upon excavating the mound of Amranibu-Ali,
some sarcophagi underneath the remains of the palaces of the
left bank of the Euphrates. Inside were traces of some skeleton,
with iron armour and goldencrowns. The skeletons themselves,
with the exception of some parts of the skull, were crumbled to
dust, but the iron, though rusted, and the gold of the crowns,
were in good preservation. These sarcophagi are supposed to
be Macedonian, and to belong to the time of Alexander. The
crowns of gold consist of a sort of frontlet, with six leaves of
laurel, or perhaps of a sort of indigenous poplar, three on each
202 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cap. X.

side, with the points turned inwards towards the centre of tne
forehead. ‘The leaves are delicately chiselled, and the veining
distinct. Beneath the frontlet there are, in every case, a certain
quantity of golden leaves, which probably were intended to cover
the eyes. In some instances the quantity of iron is yery large.
In one there was none at all; and here the earrings pointed
to the probability that the skeleton was that of the wife of one
of the warriors. Not far off from these tombs—and I should
say that these Greco-Babylonian sarcophagi were merely paral-
lelograms of brick—was found one of similar construction, inside
of which were statuettes of marble or alabaster, representing
Venus, Juno, and some personage with a Phrygian cap on.
Besides these there were jewels and precious stones, earrings of
complicated workmanship, bracelets of gold, &c. &c.; but the
skeleton bore no crown of that metal, as in the other cases. This
was obviously the last resting-place of a lady.”

“Poor thing!” said Bob, in his bold quaint way.

“ Poor thing, Bobby ?” said Amy ; “why ‘poor thing’? We
must all die, and we have no reason to believe that she died by
violence.”

“Somehow,” replied Bob, “I couldn’t help thinking ‘ poor
thing,’ so I said it. It seems so melancholy to come suddenly
upon her skeleton hundreds and hundreds of years after she
lived. I wonder whether she was like you, Amy?”

“What an unnecessary question, Hindbad!” said Amy, with
a little start at this sudden Death-and-the-Lady way of putting
the thing.

“Tf,” said Fred, “she was as clever and as well-disposed as
Amy, she must have been an exception, living when she did.”

“Why, weren’t there always clever and good people?” said
Bob,
Cuap, X; THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 203

“ Yes, surely,” said Fred, ‘‘ but we must judge by comparison.
The best lady in Sargon’s time might not be as good as a lady
who would attract no attention by her goodness in ours. Indi-
yiduals die, and particular races decline and (in part) die out ;
but the race—Man—grows and improves from age to age. If
there is any certainty whatever in our data of science, morals,
and politics, the world, at this moment, contains more truth,
more goodness, more freedom and general well-being, than ever
it did.”

“ Because God must mean things to go from good to better,
and from better to best,” said Hetty.

“So that goodness not only does not come to an end,” said
Amy, “ but is always growing.”

« Just so,” said Fred, “ though all other things do come to an
end—even these Lectures of ours.” And the approaching foot-
step of a servant warned the little party that they were expected
to conclude, for this time, at least. But, in truth, the conclusion
is for good and all, and we must look our last at Sindbad and
Hindbad, unless we can find a telescope to give us a glimpse of
their future.

Ah, my dear boys! do you know, I am sorry to part with you,
and don’t mind telling All the World and his Wife as much?
Sorry to part with you, my adventurous Sindbad, soon to travel,
upon your own account, the great open land of Lebenszeit ; *—in
which you will find your surtout coat and your stand-up collar
no protection to you. As to the surtout, I can myself answer
that it is no coat of mail for the heart. And though I wear,
myself, a turn-down collar (because I like to keep my neck cool),
Thaye the reliable testimony of intimate friends who wear the
brave “‘all-round” that they have often been morally guillotined

* Which means Lifetime—haven’t I told you before? I beg pardon!
204 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuar, X,

in spite of it. But, from what I have seen of you, since I first
made your acquaintance in the summer-house, my dear Sindbad,
I think you have better protectors to look to than coat or collar.

Nor do I despair of you, my chubby-faced Bob! Despair of
you, my boy? No! By all that is cheerful, I have the best hopes
of your career. My little Hindbad, mark my words: THE coaT
Is YOURS—and THE COLLAR—in good time. And now we will
say no more about it.

As for Bella, my heart is positively wrung at the thought
of parting with her. True, I love Amy, who parts her light-
brown hair & ? Eugénie (and, between you and me, it becomes
her style of face); and Hetty, whose black, almost blue-black,
tresses have a natural trick of drooping wavily upon her cheek,
before they make up their curly minds to run fluttering and
laughing below her chin,—for Hetty I have a profound attach-
ment, which I feel will survive these pages and embalm her
image in my memory at moments when mummies charm no
more, and arrow-headed characters do not hit the bull’s-eye of
my fancy. Yes, all this is true. But how about Bella? I see
her now! Her hair is tumbled. Her eyelids fall a little with
a grave pleasure. One hand is on Bob’s shoulder; the other is
in her own neck. Her feet are drowsily drumming against the
seat of the summer-house. She is thinking the holidays are
just over. And is that necklace of hers mended yet? And
how her little brother (only eighteen months old yesterday)
cried when he fell down and grazed his knee on the gravel.
And whether cabinet-pudding was popular with the Assyrians,
and (as lawyers say in Chancery Interrogatories) “ if not, why
not.” And when her next birthday will be. And what Aunty
will bring her. And beneath all there is a rippling under-cur-
rent of Bob, which defies your or my fathoming. Bob will
Cuap. X, THE LAST LECTURE OF ALL. 205

return to school. O Bella! ..... Still, I must bid Bella
good bye...... But I will wait till the general parting, or
break-up... ... There was a solemn silence. ... .

* * * * * *

At length, Sindbad rose.

“ Hindbad,” he said, in a voice choked with a peach-stone
(he had just been eating of that luscious fruit),—“ Hindbad,
these meetings of ours for the narration of my Travels in Won-
derland, and subsequent discussions upon them, have come to
their close. Instead of sixty sequins, allow me to present you
with a Gift which you will find far more conducive to the ac-
complishment of your aspirations to the toga virilis and its
accessories than any merely pecuniary advance upon my part.
And I am sure you will always remember, as to the material of
which this Gift is composed, that it is ‘one in which ‘he that
scattereth increaseth.’ ”

With deep emotion Hindbad stretched out his hand (having
first emptied it of some “ alleys and commoners”) for the Gift.
On it were inscribed the words—

“ Sinvbar’s

OWN GUIDE
to

CAD NDER - LAND.”

As Bella and Bob bent over the Gift together, and began to
turn it over, the servant made a second appearance, and pro-
nounced the words—

** The tea will be cold.”

Tn another second the little summer-house was cleared, show-

N
206 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cnap, X.

ing no trace of the transactions which have interested us so
much beyond a scrap or two of written paper, and a pencil which
was left behind by Amy. Late in the evening, when the moon
was high in heaven, and all was still, a slender figure in a slight
barége dress might have been seen gliding down the garden-
walk towards the scene of those happy hours. It was Amy.
Her object in seeking the summer-house was not to shed a
secret tear over past pleasure, but simply to recover her pencil.
It is pleasant to be able to add that the dear girl did recover it,
and did not take cold from venturing out in the dewy night!
SINDBAD’S
GUIDE TO WONDERLAND.

SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 209

SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND.

WonveErtanp is in the county of Surrey, near Dulwich Wood.
The PaLAce oF WONDERLAND is at the summit of Penge Hill.
Its length is 1608 feet, its breadth at the widest point 384.
The span of the central vault in the roof is 40 feet greater than
that of St. Paul’s Cathedral. The glass walls of the Palace of
Wonderland are only eight inches thick, yet it is calculated to
outlast the strongest edifice ever reared by human hands out of
the most apparently robust material.

The Palace standing upon sloping ground, an even surface
was artificially created by the construction of the Paxton Tunnel
of brick piers, to support the plates on which the columns rest.
The Tunnel goes from end to end underneath the building, and
contains fifty miles of iron piping for heating purposes. ‘The
gardens of Wonderland cover two hundred acres.

The way to Wonderland is very simple. It is best to go by
my friend the Roc, who will be found as punctual in bearing
you thither as me. He is a most obliging animal, and will land
you at the foot of a staircase, which will make your entry into
the Palace or Gardens of Wonderland such a very simple
matter, that I shall not insult you, my dear Hindbad, by gomg
into particulars. Chi ha lingua va a Roma say the Italians,
meaning that the merest provincial may, if he have a tongue to
ask his way, find his road to Rome. But when you take leave
of my good Roe, you will find your eyes and wits more than
sufficient, without calling upon your tongue.

n3
210 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD,

I will suppose, then, that you have found your way, either
along the covered avenue bordered with flowers to the south
transept of the palace from which you walk up the nave to the
middle; or that you have crossed the beautiful gardens, and
ascended the steps to the terrace, and so reached the same point.
You now stand under the grand central arch, in the midst of the
Great Transept. Standing with your back to the gardens, you
face the west; the east is behind you; the north to your right;
the south to your left. Try, once for all, to fix the bearings of
the compass in your mind ; for it will be of great use to you in
your travels in Wonderland.

Standing, then, under the Central Arch, look upward, and
around you, and on both sides. Take in the long perspective
of the nave each way; the height of the blue-seeming dome
above you; the broader associations of artistry and human
feeling belonging to the place. If there is music playing at the
moment of your entrance, so much the better; it will help to
attune your mind to that passion of wonder which is the fitting
emotion on visiting the place. Glance at the large statues, the
Rubeng and the Hercules. The Monte Cavallo horses are there,
and you remember, no doubt, their story. They are said to repre-
sent the twins Castor and Pollux, the former of whom was great
in horses, the latter in pugilism. When Castor died, Jupiter,
at his brother’s request, granted them a sort of alternate im-
mortality, “share and share alike,” as lawyers say. Castor was
to live one day, and Pollux the other; twin stars in the firma-
ment, the ‘‘ Gemini,” one appearing when the other set, but the
two never appearing together. Cast a glance, besides, at the
Toro Farnese, or Farnese Bull, great part of which group is a
modern restoration. Zethus and Amphion are about to punish
Dirce for a wrong done to their mother, by tying her to the
SINDBAD’S. GUIDE TO WONDERLAND, 211

horns of a bull—but Antiope is touched with pity, and intercedes
even for her rival. Notice, here, as in all the works of ancient
art, the direct, vigorous /ife of the actors flung out into un-
questioning action in what is before you—the unity of aspect
and aim which only unreasoning passion gives. This is the
characteristic of all pictures, sculptural or other, of life in simple
times; there is ever a weak consciousness of that Law Divine,
which, as Hooker says, “ hath her seat in the bosom of God,”
but a correspondingly strong outflow of individual force. You,
my Hindbad, will not see all that this means now ; but you will
see it in part, and some day wholly.

But now pass on. Which way? Well, let us take the Fine
Art Courts in their order, going down the nave northward. A
few steps forward, and you come to an avenue of eight sleeping
lions, which-are moulded from a pair in our Museum, commonly
called Lord Prudhoe’s lions. Walk up! and you approach a
fagade of eight handsome pillars, with capitals of palm and
lotus leaves, specimens of Egyptian art in the Ptolemaic period,
when it caught some touches of Grecian lightness and elegance.
Above the columns is the inscription of which I told you in my
travels. Now enter by the doorway, and you are in the outer
court of an Egyptian temple. Look at the wall to the left of
you, and you will see a picture copied from the Temple of
Ramses the Third near Thebes—which, I think, tells its own
story, if the inscription did not inform us that the hands of the
slain are being counted to the number of three thousand.
Notice, now, these eight figures of kings with hands crossed on
their breast, from the Temple of Ramses the Great. Pass
through the colonnade to the left, into the Tomb of Beni
Hassan, and pause, for you have here the most ancient archi-
tectural specimen in our Wonderland. But note that the
212. THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

real tomb, cut in the solid rock, on the banks of the Nile, has
only one entrance; the four here being only a matter of con-
venience. Look, next, as you emerge from the comparative
gloom of this tomb, at the colonnade from Phil, perhaps the
most beautiful thing in this Egyptian Wonderland (it struck me
as being so). Do not omit to notice the Egyptian Antinous,
the Rosetta stone, the bas-relief of Alexander (of which I have
already told you). Nor forget the model, to your right hand
farther on, of the Tomb of Abou Simbel. In the northern
transept you will find models, of the actual size, of these great
sitting figures, which are Ramses the Great; the others being
his mother, wife, and daughter. Glance at the lotus-columns
on your left hand, and then at the columns from the Hall
of Columns at Karnak, imitated here in reduced size. The
original temple, or palace, at Karnak fronts the Nile on the
west, and an avenue of sphinxes leads down to the river. It
is one of the most enormous “remains” of antiquity. The
original columns are forty-seven feet high.

Now, if you will find your way into the nave again, and
proceed northward, you will soon recognise the facade of the
Greece of Wonderland, and, a little farther on, that of its Rome.
Entering both, I think you will make out, from what you will
remember of my Travels to Greece and to Pompeii, enough to
leave you no curiosity but what a Catalogue will satisfy. I
will give you here the numbers of some of the finest monuments
of Grecian art which you will find in these courts. The
Laocoon, the Quoit-thrower, the Niobe, the Grinder sharpening
his knife to flay Marsyas, the Boy praying, the Diana, the
Apollo, want no numbering; you, my Hindbad, will know
them at a glance—as also the beautiful model of the Parthenon,
and some of the busts. But here are a few numbers ;—
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 213

Milo Venus Bi 1 | Niobe Seem eons
NenusiVictrixs., o | 2 | Venus de’ Medici .. .. 198
Discobulus -. .« 4 | Cupid and Psyche .. .. 246
Danaid .. .. .. .. 14 | Boy extracting Thorn .. 247
ibeneoomn C60 4a Gol “Se L1G | Apollo Belvedere ., .. 252
Farnese Minerva .. .. 17 | Boy and Goose.. .. .. 262
Barberini Faun OMIM ANIEINOUS | cc! Bao fel 8e
Genius of Death .. .. 24 | Drunken Faun.. .. .. 295
Apollino .. .. .. .. 26 | The Lizard-catcher (Apollo
Apiaceae. Bote Eee cae tee Sauroctonos) Ao ee ee}
HILO reve yas es ees ey ined GiladiatOneege
he: Bates se) lsu 1858

These numbers you will find to apply to the monuments of
Greek art during its best periods in Greece, and its transplanted
or secondary period under Roman rule. ‘The monuments re-
ferred to are either iz the Greek and Roman Courts, or ranged
in front of them, or in the western part of the Great Transept
where it joins the Nave.

From Egypt to Greece, and from Greece to Rome (in which
latter we include Pompeii, you know, which was a Roman
watering-place), the transition is natural and chronologically
regular. But we will now take a leap. A great change is
before us, in this exquisitely beautiful Alhambra Court which
lies next. Assuredly, it is more enchanting than any image
you could form in your own mind of what it was likely to be.
Here is the Court of Lions of which I spoke—only less by one-
third than the original—and through the archway before you,
you catch glimpses of the splendour-dropping roof of the Hall
of the Abencerrages. I know what I should like to do, myself,
wheuever I came to this Alhambra Court in the Palace of
Wonderland,—to sit down on those cushions and take coffee
with Amy and Hetty and Bella, while you, Hindbad, or
somebody else, read to me out of the Arabian nights (of course
you would have some coffee too). But I cannot stay now.
214 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD,

If your feelings, my Hindbad, were shocked. by the suddenness
of the transition to the Alhambra Court (I expect they were
not—you were only enchanted) they will be still more so, when
you take a few steps forward. Crossing the Shrine of Abou
Simbel, with its avenue of twenty-two sphinxes, you come to the
Assyrian Court. Here, we are forsaken by the good guidance of
Mr. Owen Jones, who, whatever my friend Mr. Apollo may say
of the colouring of the frieze of the Parthenon, has accomplished
his work with extraordinary talent* up to the Alhambra Court,
where he leaves us. Mr. Ferguson, with help from Mr. Layard,
has created this great Assyrian Court, in which you have
a reproduction, not pretending to perfect accuracy, of the
architecture and ornament of the Assyrians, as gathered from
Khorsabad and Persepolis. The great winged bulls, the giants,
and some other objects are actual casts from originals. The
dwarf columns are composed. The four huge columns in the
middle of the great hall are from Susa and Persepolis, accurately
copied. The decorated archway is imitated from Khorsabad—
so the Assyrians knew the use of the arch. It is as certain as
anything can very well be, that the architecture of Jerusalem
was substantially like that of Assyria; and if you will carry
away with you as vivid and complete an idea as possible of
what is now around you, you will read the account of Solomon’s
temple with fresh interest the next time you take it up.

At the end of the Nave, as you leave the Assyrian Court,
you will come to the Aigina Marbles, monuments of a very
early Greek art, belonging to the Temple of Jupiter in the
island of Zgina. The larger group represents the fight around

* Remember, Hindbad, I am praising him to you: of course he would not
care for the praise or dispraise of a lad like me. He is too clever for my com-
pliments,—S. 8.
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 215

the corpse of Patroclus, who lies in the centre, with Hector,
Paris, Aineas, &c., on the right; and on the left, Ajax, Teucer,
Diomede, &c. The other group is the fight of Hercules and
Telamon against Laomedon. ‘There are in the British Museum
restorations of the Temple from which the originals of these
were taken to the Glyptothek, Munich.

Now, if you please, you can visit the picture-gallery, or
admire the colossal bronze figures of the Fountains, or the
Oriental and tropical vegetation around you, or loiter over the
ayiaries, or pass into one of the refreshment-rooms at this end of
the building. But I dare say you will prefer this time to go
straight on with the Fine Art Courts on the right-hand side,
turning back—the east side of the palace. Here, as far as the
Great Transept, you will be under the guidance of Mr. M.
Digby Wyatt.

When Christianity superseded Paganism, and the seat of
the Roman Empire was removed, to Byzantium, and the temples
of the gods were destroyed, a new style of architecture was a
necessity for places of Christian worship. Such a style arose in
the Byzantine and Romanesque architecture, which forms a kind
of link between the Pagan and Gothic, and which existed,
speaking roughly, from about a.p. 400 to a.p. 1400.

In the church architecture of the Byzantine school the ground-
plan of the building is that of the Greek cross, in which, you
know, Hindbad, all the four limbs are equal; and there is an
exterior dome in the centre. If you glance at this Court from
almost any point, but especially from the nave, you will be
struck with a certain formal repetition of the arch, the promi-
nence of the dines of the design, a certain hardness which I
cannot well describe, but which you will soon catch with your
eye. Come closer, and you will note the disappearance of the
216 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

capital of the ancient architecture and the substitution of another,
considerably varied but not always pleasing, with the presence
of mosaic ornament in great profusion. ‘The Romanesque archi-
tecture of the north-west retains more or less the same cha-~
racteristics, excepting that of the dome, which is mostly wanting,
and, by degrees, through the Lombard and Norman styles, glides
into the Gothic proper.

You enter this Court from the nave through a cloister from
the church of Santa Maria at Cologne, the roof and columns of
which are very characteristic of the Byzantine style. To the
left lies an effigy of Richard Coeur-de-Lion—to the right the
Prior’s doorway from Ely. Entering the Court, a black marble
fountain, copied from one at Heisterbach on the Rhine, stands
in the centre. At the sides are the recumbent effigies from
Fontevrault Abbey—Henry I. and Eleanora, Richard I., and
Isabella, wife of King John. There are also an effigy of this
last king from Worcester, and one of Queen Berengaria from
France. Before you, now, is the cloister of St. John Lateran
(Rome), passing through which you see the black marble font
from Winchester Cathedral. Proceeding to the left, past the
Augsburgh door, and the Kilpeck door, you pass through the
Romsey door into the Irish vestibule, with a very curious cross
in the centre. Returning and going towards the right, you pass
the Hildesheim door, and the Shobdon door, with the Birkin
door on the other side. All these monuments date from about
the sixth to the thirteenth century. During the latter part of
this period, the changes which the Romanesque style underwent
in England, Germany, and the northern parts of France, were
tending to the development of that Gothic style, of which the
vertical line (as contradistinguished from the horizontal of an-
tiquity), and the pointed arch, were the most prominent cha-
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. ZANT,

racteristics. For specimens of pointed architecture, at various
stages of its growth, you will have to pass from the Byzantine
and Romanesque Court into the Medizval Court adjoining. In
the mean time you will have noticed in this Court the forms,
symbolic and other, which Christian architectural ornament
assumed in the early stages of its growth. You have the cross,
the serpent, the rays of glory, the fish, the trefoil (symbolising
the Trinity), and the lion, the ox, the eagle, and the man, era-
ployed as the emblems of the Four Evangelists: and sometimes
a very elaborate allegorical design is carried out. For instance,
in the doorway of Kilpeck Church there is a very complex
mystical signification running through the emblems—of church,
and law, and gospel, and tree of life, and trinity, and more than
I can stay to tell you. In the bronze doors of Bishop Bernard
of Hildesheim, you will see represented the Creation of Adam
and Eve, the Temptation, the Expulsion, and other scenes from
Jewish and Christian story. The Prior’s doorway, from Ely,
is one of the most beautiful examples of late Byzantine art in this
Court. You will bear in mind, my Hindbad, that all you see
here can give you only a very faint idea of the splendid effects
of which Byzantine art zz mass was capable. You may laugh
at the half-Pagan, half-Christian character of some of the early
ornamentation here, as Amy did when she came with me—or
think the mosaic trivial and barbaric, as Hetty did; but behold
a large edifice of this order, like St. Mark’s at Venice, or St.
Sophia’s (now turned into a mosque), and you would lose sight
of the faulty detail in the massive brilliancy of the genera.
effect. The only living pen to which we can resort for any
competent picture of the splendours of Byzantine church archi-
tecture is that of Mr. Ruskin; and from him [I have copied out
for you one of the most brilliant passages of his ‘ Stones of
0
218 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

Venice.” Follow him “ into the shadow of the pillars at the end
of the ‘ Bocca di Piazza,’ Between those pillars there opens a
great light, and, in the midst of it, as we advance slowly, the
vast tower of St. Mark seems to lift itself visibly forth from the
level field of chequered stones, and, on each side, the countless
arches prolong themselves into ranged symmetry, as if the
rugged and irregular houses that pressed together above us in
the dark alley had been struck back into sudden obedience and
lovely order, and all their rude casements and broken walls had
been transformed into arches charged with goodly sculpture, and
fluted shafts of delicate stone.

“ And well may they fall back, for beyond those troops of
ordered arches there rises a vision out of the earth, and all the
great square seems to have opened from it in a kind of awe, that
we may see it far away ;—a multitude of pillars and white domes,
élustered into a long low pyramid of coloured light ; a treasure~
heap, it seems, partly of gold and partly of opal and mother-of-
pearl, hollowed beneath into five great vaulted porches, ceiled
with fair mosaic, and beset with sculpture of alabaster, clear as
amber and delicate as ivory,—sculpture fantastic and involved,
of palm-leaves and lilies, and grapes and pomegranates, and
birds clinging and fluttering among the branches, all twined
together into an endless network of buds and plumes; and, in
the midst of it, the solemn forms of angels, sceptered, and robed.
to the feet, and leaning to each other across the gates, their
figures indistinct among the gleaming of the golden ground
through the leaves beside them, interrupted and dim, like the
morning light as it faded back among the branches of Eden,
when first its gates were angel-guarded long ago. And round
the walls of the porches there are set pillars of variegated stones,
jasper and porphyry, and deep green serpentine spotted with
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 219

flakes of snow, and marbles tliat half refuse and half yield to the
sunshine, Cleopatra-like, ‘their bluest veins to kiss’—the shadow,
as it steals back from them, revealing line after line of azure
undulation, as a receding tide leaves the waved sand; their
capitals rich with interwoven tracery, rooted knots of herbage,
and drifting leaves of acanthus and vine, and mystical signs, all
beginning and ending in the Cross; and above them, in the
broad archiyolts, a continuous chain of language and of life—
angels, and the signs of heaven, and the labours of men, each in
its appointed season upon the earth; and above these, another
range of glittering pinnacles, mixed with white arches edged with
scarlet flowers—a confusion of delight, amidst which the breasts
of the Greek horses are seen blazing in their breadth of golden
strength, and the St. Mark’s Lion, lifted on a blue field covered
with stars, until at last, as if in ecstacy, the crests of the arches
break into a marble foam, and toss themselves far into the blue
sky in flashes and wreaths of sculptured spray, as if the breakers
on the Lido shore had been frost-bound before they fell, and the
sea-nymphs had inlaid them with coral and amethyst.

“Between that grim cathedral of England and this, what an
interval! There is a type of it in the very birds that haunt
them; for, instead of the restless crowd, hoarse-voiced and sable-
winged, drifting on the bleak upper air, the St. Mark’s porches
are full of doves, that nestle among the marble foliage and
mingle the soft iridescence of their living plumes, changing at
every motion, with the tints, hardly less lovely, that have stood
unchanged for seven hundred years.

«* And what effect has this splendour on those who pass
beneath it? You may walk from sunrise to sunset, to and fro,
before the gateway of St. Mark’s, and you will not see an eye
lifted to it, nor a countenance brightened by it. Priest and

02
220 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

layman, soldier and civilian, rich and poor, pass by it alike
regardlessly. Up to the very recesses of the porches the meanest
tradesmen of the city push their counters; nay, the foundations
of its pillars are themselves the seats—not “of them that sell
doves” for sacrifice, but of the vendors of toys and caricatures.
Round the whole square in front of the church there is almost a
continuous line of cafés, where the idle Venetians of the middle
classes lounge, and read empty journals; in its centre the Aus-
trian bands play during the time of Vespers, their martial music
jarring with the organ notes—the march drowning the Miserere,
and the sullen crowd thickening round them—a crowd which,
if it had its will, would stiletto every soldier that pipes to it.
And in the recesses of the porches, all day long, knots of men of
the lowest classes, unemployed and listless, lie basking in the
sun like lizards; and unregarded children—every heavy glance
of their young eyes full of desperation and stony depravity, and
their throats hoarse with cursing—gamble, and fight, and snarl,
and sleep, hour after hour, clashing their bruised centesimi upon
the marble ledges of the church porch. And the images of
Christ and His angels look down upon it continually.

“ Through the heavy door whose bronze network closes the
place of his rest, let us enter the church itself. It is lost in still
deeper twilight, to which the eye must be accustomed for some
moments before the form of the building can be traced ; and
then there opens before us a vast cave, hewn out into the form
of a cross, and divided into shadowy aisles by many pillars.
Round the domes of its roof the light enters only through narrow
apertures like large stars; and here and there a ray or two from
some far-away casement wanders into the darkness, and casts a
narrow phosphoric stream upon the waves of marble that heave
and fall in a thousand colours along the floor. What else there
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 221

is of light is from torches, or silver lamps, burning ceaselessly
in the recesses of the chapels; the roof sheeted with gold, and
the polished walls covered with alabaster, give back at every
curve and angle some feeble gleaming to the flames; and the
glories round the heads of the sculptured saints flash out upon
us as we pass them, and sink again into the gloom. Under foot
and over head, a continual succession of crowded imagery, one
picture passing into another, as in a dream; forms beautiful and
terrible mixed together; dragons and serpents, and ravening
beasts of prey, and graceful birds that in the midst of them drink
from running fountains and feed from vases of crystal; the
passions and the pleasures of human life symbolized together,
and the mystery of its redemption ; for the mazes of interwoven
lines and changeful pictures lead always at last to the Cross,
lifted and carved in every place and upon every stone; some-
times with the serpent of eternity wrapt round it, sometimes
with doves beneath its arms, and sweet herbage growing forth
from its feet ; but conspicuous most of all on the great rood that
crosses the church before the altar, raised in bright blazonry
against the shadow of the apse. And although in the recesses
of the aisles and chapels, when the mist of the incense hangs
heavily, we may see continually a figure traced in faint lines
upon their marble, a woman standing with her eyes raised to
heaven, and the inscription above her, ‘ Mother of God,’ she is
not here the presiding deity. It is the Cross that is first seen,
and always, burning in the centre of the temple; and every dome
and hollow of its roof has the figure of Christ in the utmost
height of it, raised in power, or returning in judgment.

“ Nor is this interior without effect on the minds of the
people. At every hour of the day there are groups collected
before the various shrines, and solitary worshippers scattered
222 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

through the darker places of the church, evidently in prayer both
deep and reverent, and, for the most part, profoundly sorrowful.
The devotees at the greater number of the renowned shrines of
Romanism may be seen murmuring their appointed prayers with
wandering eyes and unengaged gestures; but the step of the
stranger does not disturb those who kneel on the pavement of
St. Mark’s; and hardly a moment passes, from early morning
to sunset, in which we may not see some half-veiled figure enter
beneath the Arabian porch, cast itself into long abasement on
the floor of the temple, and then rising slowly with more con-
firmed step, and with a passionate kiss and clasp of the arms
given to the feet of the crucifix, by which the lamps burn always
in the northern aisle, leave the church, as if comforted.

“ But we must not hastily conclude from this that the nobler
characters of the building have at present any influence in fos-
tering a devotional spirit. There is distress enough in Venice
to bring many to their knees, without excitement from external
imagery; and whatever there may be in the temper of the
worship offered in St. Mark’s more than can be accounted for
by reference to the unhappy circumstances of the city, is as-
suredly not owing either to the beauty of its architecture or to
the impressiveness of the Scripture histories embodied in its
mosaics. ‘That it has a peculiar effect, however slight, on the
popular- mind, may perhaps be safely conjectured from the
number of worshippers which it attracts, while the churches of
St. Paul and the Frari, larger in size and more central in posi-
tion, are left comparatively empty. But this effect is altogether
to be ascribed to its richer assemblage of those sources of in-
fluence which address themselves to the commonest instincts of
the human mind, and which, in all ages and countries, have been
more or less employed in the support of superstition. Darkness
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 223

and mystery ; confused recesses of building ; artificial light em-
ployed in small quantity, but maintained with a constancy which
seems to give it a kind of sacredness; preciousness of material
easily comprehended by the vulgar eye; close air loaded with a
sweet and peculiar odour associated only with religious services ;
solemn music; and tangible idols or images having popular
legends attached to them—these, the stage properties of super-
stition, which have been from the beginning of the world, and
must be to the end of it, employed by all nations, whether openly
savage or nominally civilized, to produce a false awe in minds
incapable of apprehending the true nature of the Deity, are
assembled in St. Mark’s to a degree, as far as I know, unex-
ampled in any other European church.” You will see, my dear
Hindbad, that the Byzantine architecture, applied to religious
purposes, was peculiarly adapted to nourish such a religious
faith as even you, young as you are, can fancy that of dark
ages to have been. I recommend you not to hurry away from
this Byzantine Court; though I must now beg to be your guide
to the next.

Passing from the gallery of the Byzantine Court, you may
go through the side arches into the little German Medieval
Court, and look at the “great doorway from the Frauenkirche
(Our Lady’s Church) at Nuremberg, which dates about 1360,
and is considered a very fine instance of its kind, the orna~
mented German Gothic. The equestrian St. George is from
Prague. ‘The bas-reliefs over the doorway to the right which
leads into the Byzantine Court (which is a composition) are
copies from Veit Stoss; the originals are at the church of St.
Laurence at Nuremberg. The monuments of Bishops immedi-
ately adjoining are from Mayence. The arcade surrounding
the Court, and the other ornaments and monuments, are chiefly
224 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

from Cologne Cathedral. Above the archways which lead into
the Nave are eight “jongleurs,” or dancing jesters, which come
from the Rath Haus (Town-hall) of Munich. To the right
hand you will see on the wall some reliefs from the church
of St. Sebald, also at Nuremberg, and representing Christ’s
Betrayal, Christ on the Mount of Olives, and the Last Supper.
These are by Adam Krafft, who flourished towards the close of
the 15th century. ‘There are several other reliefs hard by,
executed by the same, and one by Veit Stoss of “ Justice with
the Rich and Poor.’ Much better known than these is the
“ Garland,” which will catch your eye as you reach the doorway
into the next Court, the Rose-wreath, or Garland of the Church
Triumphant, by Veit Stoss, from Nuremberg. On the opposite
side are two reliefs said to be by Albert Durer, representing
the Circumcision of Christ, and Christ teaching in the Temple.
The “ Garland” of Veit Stoss is, you will see at a glance, a
very wonderful piece of minute labour. Trace out for yourself
the life of Christ which it contains, and notice the apparently
almost countless portraits (over 100, I believe) of Christian
saints and fathers. Do not omit to notice the St. George and
the Dragon in the Court nearest the gallery, which is a copy of
a bronze original, five hundred years old, now standing in the
Castle Square at Prague. In the gallery you will notice the
celebrated Arderne monument (of alabaster) from Elford
Church, Staffordshire. This is exceedingly beautiful; it dates
from the reign of Henry IV. Outside this Court are statues of
St. Peter, St. Paul, and St. John, from the church of St.
Langen ; a statue of the Virgin from Nuremberg, by Veit Stoss ;
one of St. Peter, from Cologne; and a Bishop from Wells
Cathedral, in a sitting posture.

The Norman architecture, with its round arches, thick pillars,
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 225

and characteristic zigzag mouldings, gave place, about the
commencement of the 14th century, to the first form of what is
generally called “ Gothic” architecture, the Early English.
Now come lancet-shaped windows, delicate shafted pillars,
spires, and tracery filling up the spaces. Rose-windows, bell-
shaped capitals, great variety in the sculptured imitations of
flowers, graceful ladies, lively knights, and stiff-necked bishops,
characterise this style. By-and-by, the mind and the hand
gained confidence in the resources which this style opened up,
and an increase of ornamentation was the consequence. This
brings us to the Decorated or Secondary period. Now, the
arch is that of an equal-sided triangle, as in the Abbey of
Guisborough, into a cloister of which you pass from the Nave,
through the Tintern door, where the arch is acute or lancet-
shaped. Inthe Decorated period, the statuary grows in graceful-
ness, and foliage in naturalness, till, the climax passed, we descend
the incline of decay. Now comes the Third period, called also
Perpendicular from the vertical character of the tracery, in
which ornament becomes first magnificently profuse, and then
excessive ; the statuary shows signs of affectation; and a gene-
ral decay of simplicity and power prevails in the architectural
remains. In this style the arches become, at last, very obtuse,
and the Tudor arch signalises its lowest point of degradation.

I have supposed you to enter this Court from the Nave,
through the Decorated Cloister from Guisborough Abbey,
Yorkshire. To your right hand is a door from Ely, which will
show you what we mean when we speak of the decline of Gothic
art—compare it with the Tintern door through which you passed
on entering. On the left hand is a doorway from Prince
Arthur’s chapel in Worcester Cathedral (Prince Arthur son of
Henry VII., not King John’s nephew). This is in the middle

0 3
226 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

Perpendicular style. The figures on the upper part of the
Court into which we are now passing are from the “ Angel’s
Choir” in the cathedral church of Lincoln. Right im front of
you is the unspeakably beautiful doorway from Rochester
Cathedral, which may serve as an example not only of the ~
splendour of which Gothic ornament was capable, but of the
Polychromatic (many-coloured) decoration of the time. On
the left of this doorway is the Easter Sepulchre, from Hawton
Church, Nottinghamshire, what will tell its own story, if you
study ita little. Notice the beautiful Virgin and Child in the
recess, and the fine oriel window from Lincoln. On the right
hand of the Rochester doorway is the monument of Humphrey
de Bohun from Hereford, and, next to it, the effigy of the “ Boy-
Bishop” from Salisbury Cathedral. Here is an account, from
Hone, of the “ Boy-Bishop” ceremony, and how St. Nicholas,
on whose day the boy-bishop was chosen, came to be the patron
saint of little boys :—

“ December 6.—St. Nicholas is patron or titular saint of
virgins, boys, sailors, and the worshipful company of parish
clerks of the City of London. Mr. Audley briefly observes of
him, that he was remarkable in his infancy for piety, and the
knowledge of the Scriptures ; that he was made Bishop of Myra,
in Lycia, by Constantine the Great, and that ‘he was present in
the council of Nice, where, it is said, he gave Arius a box on
the ear.’

“ According to Catholic story, St. Nicholas was a saint of
great virtue, and disposed so early in life to conform to eccle-
siastical rule, that when an infant at the breast he fasted on
Wednesday and Friday, and sucked but once on each of those
days, and that towards night. A story is related to his credit
which is of considerable curiosity. It is told that ‘an Asiatic
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 227

gentleman’ sent his two sons to ‘ Athens’ for education, and
ordered them to wait on the bishop for his benediction. On
arriving at Myra with their baggage they took up their lodging
at an inn, purposing, as it was late in the day, to defer their
visit till the morrow; but in the mean time the innkeeper, to
secure their effects to himself, wickedly killed the young gentle-
men, cut them into pieces, salted them, and intended to sell
them for pickled pork. Happily St. Nicholas was favoured
with a sight of these proceedings in a vision, and in the morning
went to the inn, and reproached the cruel landlord with his
crime, who immediately confessed it, and entreated the saint to
pray to Heaven for his pardon. Then the bishop, being moved
by his confession and contrition, besought forgiveness for him,
and. supplicated restoration of life to the children ; whereupon
the pickled pieces reunited, and the reanimated youths stepping
from the brine-tub threw themselves at the feet of St. Nicholas,
who raised them up, exhorted them to return thanks to God
alone, gave them good advice for the future, bestowed his bless-
ing on them, and sent them to Athens with great joy to prosecute
their studies.

“The Salisbury missal of 1534, fol. 27, contains a prayer to
St. Nicholas, before which is an engraving on wood of the bishop
with the children rising from the tub; but better than all, by a
licence that artists formerly assumed of representing successive
scenes in the same print, the landlord himself is shown in the act
of reducing a limb into sizes suitable for his mercenary pur-
pose. ‘There are only two children in the story, and there
are three in the tub of the engraving; but it is fairly to be
conjectured that the story was thought so good as to be worth
making a little better. Ribadeneira says of St. Nicholas, that,
‘being present at the council of Nice, among three hundred
228 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

and eighteen bishops who were there assembled together to
condemn the heresy of Arius, he shone among them all with so
great charity, and opinion of sanctity, that he appeared like a
sun amongst so many stars.’ It will be remembered that he is
affirmed to have given Arius a clarifying ‘ box on the ear” ....
If there were no other, the miracle of the pickled children
would be sufficient to establish Nicholas’s fame as the patron of
youth, and we find his festival day was selected by scholars, and
the children of the church, for a remarkable exhibition about to
be described.

“ Anciently on the 6th of December, it being St. Nicholas’s
day, the choir-boys in cathedral churches chose one of their
number to maintain the state and authority of a bishop, for
which purpose the boy was habited in rich episcopal robes, wore
a mitre on his head, and bore a crosier in his hand, and his
fellows, for the time being, assumed the character and dress of
priests, yielded him canonical obedience, took possession of the
church, and, except mass, performed all the ecclesiastical cere-
monies and offices. Though the boy bishop’s election was on
the 6th of December, yet his office and authority lasted till the
28th, being Innocents’ day.

“* It appears from a printed church-book, containing the service
of the boy bishop, set to music, that at Sarum, on the eve of Inno-
cents’ day, the boy bishop and his youthful clergy, in their copes,
and with burning tapers in their hands, went in solemn procession,
chanting and singing versicles as they walked into the choir by
the west door, in such order that the dean and canons went
foremost, the chaplains next, and the boy bishop with his priests
in the last and highest place. He then took his seat, and the
rest of the children disposed themselves on each side of the
choir upon the uppermost ascent, the canons resident bore the
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 229

incense and the book, and the petit canons the tapers, according
to the Romish rubric. Afterwards the boy bishop proceeded to
the altar of the Holy Trinity, and All Saints, which he first
censed, and next the image of the Holy Trinity, while his
priests were singing. Then they all chanted a service with
prayers and responses, and the boy bishop, taking his seat, re-
peated salutations, prayers, and versicles, and in conclusion
gave his benediction to the people, the chorus answering ‘ Deo
gratias.” Having received his crosier from the crossbearer,
other ceremonies were performed: he chanted the complyn ;
turning towards the quire delivered an exhortation ; and last of
all said, ‘ Benedicat Vos omnipotens Deus, Pater, et Filius, et
Spiritus Sanctus.’

“ By the statutes of the church of Sarum, for the regulation
of this extraordinary scene, no one was to interrupt or press
upon the boy bishop and the other children during their pro-
cession or service in the cathedral, upon pain of anathema. It
farther appears that at this cathedral the boy bishop held a
kind of visitation, and maintained a corresponding state and
prerogative; and he is supposed to have had power to dispose
of prebends that fell vacant during his episcopacy. If he died
within the month he was buried like other bishops in his epis-
copal ornaments, his obsequies were solemnised with great
pomp, and a monument was erected to his memory, with his
episcopal effigy.

«¢ About a hundred and fifty years ago a stone monument to
one of these boy bishops was discovered in Salisbury cathedral,
under the seats near the pulpit, from whence it was removed to
the north part of the nave between the pillars, and covered over
with a box of wood, to the great admiration of those who, un-
acquainted with the anomalous character it designed to comme-
230 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

morate, thought it ‘ almost impossible that a bishop should be
so small in person, or a child so great in clothes.’

“ Mr. Gregorie found the processional of the boy bishop.
He notices the same custom at York; and cites Molanus as
saying ‘ that this bishop in some places did reditat census, et
capones annuo accipere, receive rents, capons, &c., during his
year, &c. He relates that a boy bishop in the church of
Cambray disposed of°a prebend, which fell void during his
episcopal assumption, to his master; and he refers to the de-
nunciation of the boy bishop by the council of Basil, which, at
the time of the holding of that council, was a well-known cus-
tom. Mr. Gregorie, who was a prebendary of Salisbury, de-
scribes the finding of the boy bishop’s monument at that place ;
and inserts a representation of it in his treatise.

“The ceremony of the boy bishop is supposed to have existed
not only in collegiate churches, but in almost every parish in
England. He and his companions walked the streets in public
procession. A statute of the collegiate church of St. Mary
Overy, in 1337, restrained one of them to the limits of his
own parish. On December 7, 1229, the day after St. Nicho-
las’s day, a boy bishop in the chapel at Heton, near Newcastle-
upon-Tyne, said vespers before Edward the First on his way to
Scotland, who made a considerable present to him and the other
boys who sang with him. Iu the reign of King Edward the
Third a boy bishop received a present of nineteen shillings and
sixpence for singing before the king in his private chamber on
Tnnocents’ day. Dean Colet, in the statutes of St. Paul’s
School, which he founded in 1512, expressly ordains that his
scholars should every Childermas (Innocents’) day, ‘come to
Paulis churche and hear the Chylde-Bishop’s sermen: and
after be at the hygh masse, and each of them offer a penny to
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 231

the Chylde-Bishop: and with them the maisters and surveyors
of the scole.’

By a proclamation of Henry the Eighth, dated July 22,
1542, the show of the boy bishop was abrogated, but in the
reign of Mary it was revived with other Romish ceremonials.
A flattering song was sung before that queen by a boy bishop,
and printed. It was a panegyric on her devotion, and compared
her to Judith, Esther, the Queen of Sheba, and the Virgin Mary.

“The accounts of St. Mary-at-Hill, London, in the 10th
Henry the Sixth, and for 1549 and 1550, contain charges for
the boy bishops of those years. At that period his estimation
in the church seems to have been undiminished ; for on No-
vember 18, 1554, the bishop of London issued an order to all
the clergy of his diocese to have boy bishops and their pro-
cessions; and in the same year these young sons of the old
church paraded St. Andrew’s, Holborn, and St. Nicholas
Olaves, in Bread-street, and other parishes. In 1556 Strype
says that the boy bishops again went abroad singing in the old
fashion, and were received by many ignorant but well-disposed
persons into their houses, and had much good cheer.”

Farther on is a door from Lichfield Cathedral, with its
iron-work painted like oak. On the opposite side of the court
are monuments from Lincoln and from Winchester. In the
centre of the court are the beautiful restored tombs of Edward
the Second and Queen Eleanor on the north side, and Edward
the Black Prince, her son, and William of Wykeham, on the
south. Poor Eleanor, with soul as sweet as her face forebodes!
she sleeps calmly now, and does not reck of the days when the
brutal Londoners pelted her with filth and stones from London
Bridge !

In the centre of the vestibule which you enter upon passing
232 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

through the Rochester doorway (to which I now beg to recon-
duct you) stands the beautiful octagon Walsingham Font, with
the Crucifixion and the Seven Sacraments of Romanism sculp-
tured on its sides. ‘This fine monument belongs to the Per-
pendicular period, and challenges high admiration. Here, too,
are the monuments of Sir Giles Daubeny from Westminster
Abbey; Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick; Henry IV.,
and his queen Joan of Navarre. The beautiful stained win-
dow towards the garden is from Holbeach Church, Lincolnshire.
Notice, now, the statues of King Ina (eighth century) and his
queen Ethelberga, and (opposite Daubeny’s tomb) the “ En-
tombment” from the Cathedral at Mayence, which is very fine ;
and then we will take a look at the French and Italian Gothic
Courts before passing to the Renaissance beyond. Here
France will be glorified in the eye of my Hindbad by the
twenty-three casts surrounding the court, taken from the choir
of Notre Dame at Paris, in which he will see the leading fea-
tures of the life of Christ are set forth, up to the moment pre-
ceding the Ascension. Above this series are some canopies
from the Cathedral of Chartres. Also, you will see the western
door from Notre Dame, or rather one of the western doors, the
iron-work of which was at the time thought sufficiently well
done to be attributed to the devil! In modern times we know
better, I think, to what quarter to attribute anything good.
There are besides an altarpiece by Orcagna, and a figure of
“ Our Lady,” and a “ Justice” by Giovanni Pisano, of Pisa.
That altarpiece of San Michele, Florence, by Orcagna, will
repay you for a little study. At the back of the court are
some interesting miscellanies; among others, the “ Shoemaker
and the Monkey ” from the capital of one of the pillars in the
Cathedral of Wells.
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 233

We will now pass into the Renaissance Court, if our good
Hindbad is ready. He understands French well enough to
know the meaning which that word covers. It refers to the
revival of classicism in art, which began in the fifteenth cen-
tury, and, after Brunelleschi had built his dome of Florence
Cathedral, and Ghiberti had executed his wonderful gates, pro-
ceeded at an accelerated pace, till it obliterated for a time the
Gothic style, which was now looked upon as a barbarism and a
disgrace. Roman remains were dug up, printing was disco-
vered, and classic literature came into vogue. In Italy the
revival of the classic spirit, where it had, indeed, never enjoyed
a very sound sleep,* was prompt and vigorous, and both Paint-
ing and Sculpture sought “ fresh fields and pastures new.” In

* An able writer in one of our Reviews wrote thus some two or three years
back:—‘‘ The revival of classical learning in the sixteenth century is generally
spoken of as if the classics had been till then unknown. The great revolution
of opinion which marks that period is supposed to be mainly attributable to
the new light which the literature of ancient Greece and Rome shed upon the
world. Never was there a more flagrant example of the confounding of cause
and effect. The darkness, or whatever it may be called, of the middle ages,
was a thing deliberately chosen in preference to the light of the classics.
Clemens Alexandrinus, and Gregory Nazianzen, knew Plato much better than
Picus Mirandola, Leo the Tenth, or Erasmus; but they preferred St. Paul.
Ambrose and Augustine were familiar with Virgil, Horace, and even Martial;
but they thought David and Isaiah on the whole greater poets. Later, and
in the very grossness of medieval darkness, Thomas Aquinas was perfectly
acquainted with the classical authors, and might have written as learned com-
mentaries on the vices which constituted their inspiration as Scaliger or
Brunck; but he thought he was doing better for the interests of mankind by
commenting on the Bible. It was not, then, that the long-neglected classics
were, in the sixteenth century, suddenly discovered in the recesses of some
library, and that, when laid open, they diffused a flood of light over benighted
Europe. The true statement of the case is this: the minds of thinking men
had then become assimilated to the classical modes of thought, and were there-
fore prepared to appreciate the classics. Petrarch, Dante, and Boccaccio in
Italy; and in England, Chaucer, Gower, and Lydgate, had, upwards of a cen-
tury before the revival of learning, as it is called, adopted as much of the
classical feeling as found acceptance in their age,”
234 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

the Renaissance Court you will find sufficient proof that Sculp-
ture, at least, had taken a leap forward during the eighteenth
century, even though Lorenzo Ghiberti was more then twenty
years over those wonderful “‘ Gates of Paradise” from Florence.
The fagade of the court is from the Hétel Bourgtheroulde at
Rouen. On the upper part are copies of the frieze from the
Hospital for the Poor at Pistoia, representing the Seven Acts of
Mercy; and on the lower, the meeting of Henry and Francis
on the Field of the Cloth of Gold. In the centre of the back
wall of the Court two Caryatides by Jean Goujon support
Cellini’s Nymph of Fontainebleau, which he executed for Francis
the First. The central Fountain is a copy in terra-cotta of the
Vase of the Chateau Gaillon, from the original in the Louvre.
There are also two fine statues—David and John—by the
vigorous hand of Donatello, both in bronze.

In the vestibule into which you pass under the doorway of
Cellini’s Nymph, you will find on the ceiling a copy of a paint-
ing by Perugino for an Exchange; and in the centre of the
gallery, Pilon’s “Graces.” But I fully expect that you, my
Hindbad, will, like me, be soon tired of this Court; and will
not stay long in its successor, the Elizabethan, which illustrates
the style of architecture which, in our own country, filled up the
gap between the decayed Gothic and the reviving Italian.
No doubt you will be satisfied if I tell you that this Court is
chiefly modelled from Holland House, Kensington; and that
the most interesting objects in it are the bust of Shakspeare,
the kneeling effigies (in the gallery) of the sons of the Countess
of Norfolk from Salisbury, and the tombs of—1. Sir John
Cheney, a soldier who distinguished himself in the wars of the
Roses, the original of which is in Salisbury Cathedral; 2. Mary
Queen of Scots, from Westminster Abbey; 8. Queen Elizabeth,
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 235

also from Westminster Abbey; 4. Margaret Countess of
Richmond and Derby, mother of Henry VH. Some illus-
trations of that complete revival of Roman art which was in-
augurated by the Renaissance will be found in the Italian
Court, to which Hindbad will now pass on. St. Peter’s at
Rome, and St. Paul’s in London, are examples of the classic
style as revived. ‘The Court before us is a composition chiefly
founded upon the Farnese Palace at Rome, which is partly the
work of Michael Angelo, and was built with stones taken from
the Coliseum.

Entering the Court, you see before you the Fountain of the
Tortoises from Rome. On your right hand is a Virgin and
Child by Michael Angelo; on your left a Jonah by Raffaelle.
To the right and left, standing in the centre, are the Night and
Day, and Dawn and Twilight, of Michael Angelo. Behind
the latter is the bronze door from St. Mark’s, Venice, on which
Sansovino is said to have spent great part of thirty years.
Crossing the court towards the gallery, you will see on each side
of the doorway a Piett (Virgin with dead Christ)—that on the
left by Michael Angelo, that on the right by Bernini. Notice
the painted ceilings of the gallery, and the Moses of Michael
Angelo. Then, if you please, pass through the Italian Vestibule
modelled after the Casa Taverna of Milan (the work of a pupil
of Da Vinci’s), and notice the cabinet copies of works of old
masters on the walls. Now follows the rather naked-looking
Court of “Christian Art,” adjoining the Great Transept, in
which there are some Irish remains of great antiquity. In front,
as you go out of it, are two statues of Perseus, one by Canova,
and one by Cellini, the latter a very remarkable production,
both as to its merit and its history. When Cellini found he
had not metal enough to complete:his cast, he flung in all his
236 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

metal table-ware, and then uncovering his work, after an earnest
prayer to Heaven, discovered that it was complete all but one
foot !

Crossing the Great Transept, still keeping on the same side
of the building, you enter the Foreign Industrial Court, then
reach the Ceramic Court, which will not either of them detain
you so long as they did Amy and Hetty, and lastly, the
Musical Instrument Court. Emerging, you find yourself near
the Crystal Fountain; keeping still to the left, pass through
part of the Ethnological and Natural History Departments,
then along by the Screen of the Kings and Queens of England
to the opposite side, amid the clatter of crockery and knives
and forks—for there is always a brisk business going on at
this end in the refreshment way. In my travels I told you
something of the ethnological specimens, and also of Pompeii,
in which you will now find yourself, on the western side of the

Palace of Wonderland. From Pompeii you go to Sheffield,
from there to Birmingham, and from thence to Stationery,
the furniture departments, and some other manufactures, lying
at the back. Close to the Stationery Court is the Reading
Room, which you can enter for a penny, and there consult
newspapers and periodicals to your heart’s content. And now
T have brought you to the Great Transept again—not dwelling,
by the way, upon any of the Industrial Courts, which, however,
aré not only full of interesting objects, but are very prettily
designed, in an architectural point of view. Notice, especially,
the Musical, Stationery, and Birmingham Courts, if you have
time.

In the Great Transept of the Palace of Wonderland you
will notice that, looking towards the west, the Court of Ancient
Art is to your right hand adjoining Egypt, and the Court of
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 237

English and German Sculpture to your left hand adjoining the
Stationery Court. Looking east (garden-wise) the Court of
French and Italian Sculpture is towards the right, and that
of Modern Art towards the left. But the distinctions here
indicated are not rigidly preserved, and you will find works of
art of various modern authors scattered up and down the Nave.
Of the Modern Sculpture in the Palace of Wonderland I will
now say a few words of a descriptive character, taking them in
numerical order for convenience of reference as you come to
them in traversing the Palace.

Dr. JOHNSON (2) is by Bacon, the Calvinistic Methodist, who
was the architect of his own fortune, and the trainer of his own
gift.

Maternat Arrection (44), and Eve LisTenine (4c), are
by Baily, one of our best living sculptors.

UNA AND THE Lion (5), and Dororne#a (5a), are by Bell.

Hybas AND THE Nympus (22), and THe Hours LEADING,
FORTH THE Horsss oF THE SuN (26), the latter from a bas-relief,
of which you have (perhaps) seen engravings, and the former
from the original work at Marlborough House, are by Gibson.

BEATRICE (31), the immortal love of Dante, is by Hancock.

Two Boys WRESTLING (35) by Lawlor.

Aw ApoTHEosis OF SHAKSPEARE in bas-relief (45) will interest
you for some time. ‘The sculptor is Lough.

ULYSSES RECOGNISED BY HIS DOG (48) is by Macdonald.

Saprina (51) is by Marshall. Turn to Milton’s ‘Comus’
for anything you do not yet know of the subject.

Lavinia (57) is by Spence. So is (58) Burns’ Hicuianp
Mary. Only I should tell you that this immortal girl was
not pretty in the common sense of the word, and was a little
marked with the small-pox.
288 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

A very pretty Narcissus (60) is by Theed.

PaoLo AND Francesca (72) is a bas-relief by the younger
Westmacott. It is very fine, but the treatment of this story
from Dante (which you, my Hindbad, will know more about
some day) does not please your faithful Sindbad so much as
Ary Scheffer’s in his wonderful picture.

The beautiful, pensive PENELOPE (82) is by Wyatt, who is
now dead.

I think even you, little as you have seen of the world, my
Hindbad, would almost know the work of a French or Italian
sculptor from that of an Englishman. At all events you will
catch the influence of the national conceptions of character and
beauty in the works of French and Italians which I am now going
to notice.

Tue Turer Farus (93), by Joseph Debay ; THe Case (94),
by his son Jean Baptiste; and THe Firsr CrapLe (96), by
his son Auguste, will detain you a few minutes, I dare say—
especially the last. Do you think the “cradle” a particularly
safe or convenient one?

A Roman Woman, and A Woman or THE Ratne (105 and
106), by Fraikin (Belgian), present a contrast which is very
effective.

Rusens, colossal (107), MAuipran (108), and the Story oF
St. Hupert in bas-relief (109), are by William Geefs, the
well-known Belgian sculptor. He was the son of a baker.
Large numbers of artists have sprung from the trading (as
distinguished from the labouring and the professional) classes.

Girt PRAyine (120) is by Bartolini.

Venus AND Aponts (126), ENpyMion (127), and a SLEEPING
Lion (141), are among the best works of Canova. There are
other works of Canova here, which you will know from the
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 239

popular casts. If you compare what you see of Canova’s with
works of Gibson and Thorwaldsen, you will see how com-
paratively feeble, affected, and impure was the great Italian.

Tur First Srep (148) is by Magni.

I do not like the few works of Monti which are here among
the sculptures; scarcely even’ his Rerenrant Eve (150*).
But, as he is unquestionably a great sculptor, I refer you to the
figures of the Four Races supporting the fountains in the north
nave, and to the statues of Spain, Italy, South America, China,
the Zollverein, and Holland, on the terrace overlooking the
gardens, for instances of the power and grace of which Monti
is capable. ‘The four syrens of the fountains—Caucasian, Nu-
bian, American, Australian—are very striking and expressive.

EsMERALDA (156) is by Rossetti, and Aupactry (159) by
Srrazza, both of Milan: the latter tells a story.

The Hecror (166) and Nymru (167) are by the pious Dan-
necker, whose “ Ariadne on the Panther” you know from
casts and engravings. Longfellow has narrated an interview —
with him in the last chapter of Hyperion.

One of the most celebrated of modern German sculptors is
Curistran Raucu, who, if still living (I think he is), must be
very aged. The six figures of Victory (184 to 189) are by
him. So is the MAIDEN oN THE STAG, of which you have seen
copies I dare say. The story of this work is that of a young
girl who, going into the woods early one Sunday to seek wild
flowers for decking the shrine of the Saviour in the church, lest
her way, and was borne to the church-door by a docile stag.
Tur Eacue (191) is very beautifully done.

Lupwic¢ ScHWANTHALER, who died young a few years back,
is a very distinguished name. The Bavaria (205) is from his
colossal statue in front of the Hall of Heroes at Munich. The
240 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

original is fifty feet high. The Nympx (203), the two statues
of Victory (206 and 207), and the Sumip or HEeRcuuEs (215),
are very fine productions of Schwanthaler.

But perhaps the greatest name in modern sculpture is that
with which I will close—THorwapsen, the Dane. Compare
his GRAcES (222) with Canova’s. A certain tone of chaste
beauty, which occasionally borders on coldness, will be seen to
pervade all Thorwaldsen’s works, of which the specimens here
are numbered from 216 to 252. Also, the conception is gene-
rally very intelligible, and the working out free from crowding,
whatever the multiplicity of detail introduced. Thorwaldsen
was one of that class of ideal artists who do not succeed in por-
traiture, and what he has done in that department of sculpture is
not worthy of his general reputation. In classical bas-relief he
is the greatest of modern artists.

The departments for Machinery, for Carriages, and for Agri-
cultural Implements, on the basement of the Palace of Wonder-
land, will catch your eye and detain you a little while. In the
galleries of the northern half of the building you will find over
the Fine Art Courts below collections of photographs and small
objects illustrative of the archeology of the Courts. In the
north-east upper gallery there is a Naval museum, and under-
neath a museum of objects in civil engineering. In the second
gallery of the Great Transept, on the garden side, is the Raw
Produce collection. In the gallery over the Assyrian Court is
an Indian and Chinese museum. In the other galleries are
various industrial bazaars, articles of food, philosophical instru-
ments, &c. Ifyou like to ascend as high as the Upper Gallery
you will have a fine bird’s-eye view of the interior of the building
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. QAI

below you, and from the upper terraces you may see the sur-
rounding country stretching for many, many miles each way,
encircled with its belt of bluish dimness where the boundary-
line of vision mingles with the sloped horizon. Into the gar-
dens and to the Geological Islands I have already taken you.



And now, my dear Hindbad, comes what has been to me the
pleasantest part of my task in preparing this Gift for you; and
what I expect will prove not only its pleasantest but its most
useful part to yourself. I am about to give you a Biographical
Guide to the Departments of Portrait Busts in the Palace of
Wonderland, in which I have had the assistance not only of
Amy and Hetty, but of papa.

I am sorry to say that the Portrait-Gallery when I was last
at the Palace of Wonderland was in a somewhat disorderly
condition—many of the most interesting busts lying on the
floor. I think it a pity more attention is not paid to this de-
partment. The Greek and Roman portraits are to be found
in the respective Courts; the French, Italian, German, and
English around and near the Great Transept. I shall deal
with them all in numerical order, for the same reason as in the
case of Modern Sculpture ; selecting (i. e. papa, Amy, Hetty,
and I) what seem to us the most striking or the most instruc-
tive busts for comment. ‘The first of the two dates placed after
a name indicates the time of an individual’s birth; the second
that of his death.

GREECE AND RoME.

I shall not trouble you with any biographical notices of great
men and women in these Courts; partly because information
P
242 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

about them is at least in the power of every schoolboy ; partly
because the treatment of many of the characters would require
a degree of moral and literary discrimmation to which papa
thinks you and I cannot pretend; but chiefly because I want
the bulk of my space for the more modern portraits.
Here are some of the leading names in the ancient Courts :—
GREECE.—1*. Homer; 3. Esop; 6. Aischylus; 7. Sopho-
cles; *. Pindar; 8. Adschines; *. Aristides; 9. Euripides ;
11. Bias; 12. Thucydides; 13. Socrates; 16. Plato; 18.
Diogenes; 19. Demosthenes; 20. Epicurus; 21. Zeno; 22.
Alexander the Great; 23. Phocion; 24. Alcibiades; 25.
Miltiades; 26. Aspasia, and 27. Pericles her husband; 30.
Lycurgus.
Romr.—26. Nero ; 89*. Vespasian ; 40. Caligula; 43. Titus ;
44. Domitian; 45. Trajan; 46. Hadrian; 47. The good
Antoninus Pius; 48. his successor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus,
equally good, and more highly gifted ; 59. Maximinus (see my
Travels in Weissnichtwo) ; 60. Caracalla; 71. Julian, called
the Apostate, though it must be obvious to an honest mind
that the mere fact of changing one’s creed ought not to expose
any one to that name; 107. The first great Brutus; 109. The
Scipio; 110. The Cato; 111. The Cesar; 112. his assassin
Brutus; 118. Terence ; 120. Cicero; 121. Virgil; 122. Seneca.
The lives of the majority of the celebrated characters whose
busts we have in these Courts, says papa, present extreme ex-
hibitions of virtue or of vice. The idea of Moral Law had
not yet descended from heaven upon men in its full beauty
and equalising power. ‘The systems of the philosophers, too,
will be found to be embodiments of eatreme ideas, drawn from
partial views. Stoicism nourished. some fine spirits, but it was,
after all, an absurdity. Hindbad knows very well that the
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 243

most enduringly influential of all ancient thinkers was PLato—
unquestionably one of the greatest of men, the most poetic of
philosophers, and the most philosophic of poetic souls. Mr.
Emerson, the American Essayist, founds upon the preservation
and repeated republication of this man’s works an observation
on the certainty of the final appreciation of what is good :—See,
says he (I forget the exact words)—in any given generation of
men, there are not twenty, perhaps, who understand Plato;
and yet how punctually his thoughts have come down the long
centuries for that twenty! It is a comment, my dear Hindbad,
of very wide application. In the case of all good things, the
supply creates the demand as much as the demand the supply.
Let us all remember that in any kind action we do, and in any
wise thought we throw out, we start an incalculable series of
bettering influences. So much for moralising. Now we will
turn to the

ITALIAN PoRTRAIT GALLERY.

130. ORCAGNA or ORGAGNA, a great Pre-Raphaelite artist of
the 14th century, of whom we have already spoken.

131. BRrunetiescut, of Florence, an architect and sculptor
of the 15th century, who contributed to the progress of the
Renaissance. We have already mentioned him, and also

182. Lorenzo GHIBERTI, of the same city, fertile in great
men. His wonderful “Gates of Paradise,” for the Baptistery
of Saint John at Florence, are copied in the Renaissance Court.
He died in 1455.

133. DONATELLO, one of the most devoted and unconscious
of artists. A friend of Ghiberti’s.

134. Fra ANGELICO was another great painter of the Pre-
Raphaelite school. He was a Dominican friar, a most reli-

P 2


244 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

giously-minded artist in an age when all art was religious, and
particularly fond of painting angels. He was born at Vicchio
in Tuscany, and died at Rome in 1455.

138. Bramante; 189. PeruGino, the tutor of Raffaelle; and
140. DoMENtco GHIRLANDAIO, once tutor of Michael Angelo, are
other great names in the list of the 14-15th century, which you
will frequently meet if you read much upon fine-art topics.
Bramante was employed by Leo X. to rebuild St. Peter’s, and
was a very versatile man.

But all the versatility of the Middle Ages, including that of
the “ Admirable Crichton,” is thrown into the shade by that of
Lronarpo DA Vinci (141), born at Vinci 1452, died in France
1519. He was one of the most accomplished men that ever
lived; a musician and an engineer, as well as a painter; a
natural philosopher, and a man of letters. You, my Hindbad,
have some general ideas of all this, I know, for I have told you,
when we have been looking at that German cast of his “ Last
Supper,” how versatile a man this was, and how the four hundred
years that have elapsed since he flourished have not deprived
his works on Anatomy and Painting of any considerable portion
of their value.

142. Fra Bartotomzo, 1469-1517. This is another name
you will often encounter in fine-art literature ; one of those early
artists who are constantly referred to for examples of religious-
ness of spirit in painting. He was the inventor of the lay
figure, or artist’s “dummy.” At least it is said so.

143. Micuart Anceto Buonarortt, 1474-1563. You know
what a great name this is. You know how enthusiastic artists
of all classes have been about the genius of Michael Angelo.
You remember that Sir Joshua Reynolds wound up a lecture
before the Royal Academy by expressing a wish “that the last
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 245

word he might be heard to utter within those walls might be the
name of Michael Angelo,”—and you know that proved to be
his last lecture. ‘To the general reader he is known chiefly as
the architect of St. Peter’s, the building of which he superintended
for near twenty years, without fee or reward,—for “the love of
God alone,” as he put it. But he was a great painter and
engineer, like Leonardo, and also a poet. Amiable he was not,
and he lacked the pure devotedness of earlier artists. Even in
his piety, and renunciation of reward, there was a self-assertion
which, at times, narrowly escaped rudeness. He was the rival
of Leonardo da Vinci,—not merely the rival in contemporary
opinion ; but the actual rival, working against him hand-to-hand
almost. The rivalry of those times was something most real,
often fierce and unscrupulous; and we cannot trust all the
stories of unkindness engendered by it which have come down
tous. Michael Angelo was a man of great physical energy,
and lived to his ninetieth year.

144, Titan, the greatest of Italian colourists, and the head
of the Venetian school,—born 1477, died 1576. His career
was honourable and fortunate ; he was patronised by Charles V. ;
and dying of the plague, was distinguished by a magnificent
funeral, when others, less noble in the public eyes, could barely
command sepulture. Unlike some of the other masters of ideal
subjects, he painted excellent portraits. His “ Young Man with
a Glove,” in the Louvre, is well known to you, I dare say, by
copies.

146. RarraELLe, 1483-1520. Another great artist and
sculptor who contributed greatly to the progress of the Renais-
sance, and another rival of Michael Angelo. His paintings, as
you know, fix an era in art, which is differently regarded by
different schools of art-theorists. But there is no question on any

P 3
246 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

side as to his capacity and his marvellous execution. His
Cartoons at Hampton Court are familiar to you and to me and
to every one, either by sight or by engravings from them. His
“ Transfiguration,” in the Vatican, like the Cartoons, has, of late
years, been subjected to some very severe criticism. Raffaelle
(four syllables) was a handsome man, of delicate frame and
strong passions. He died at 37 years of age.

148. SEBASTIANO DEL Promso (whose “ Raising of Lazarus”
is in our National Gallery); 150. AnpREA DEL Sarto; 152,
CorrEeceto; 153. CARAVAGGIO; 154. GruLIo RomaNno—are all
names of great painters who lived at the close of the 15th and
beginning of the 16th centuries.

155. Patapio, of Vicenza, 1518-1580, was the architect who
gave his name to that modernised revival of Roman architecture
which is called Palladian. 156. PauL VeRoneEsE, 1528-1588,
is considered one of the most effective colourists of the Venetian
School. This collection of Busts gives only one of the three
Caracci, 158, ANNIBALE, who are the heads of what is known
as the Bolognese school of painting. ‘To this school belonged
DomeEntcuHino, 159, who suffered even more than some others
by the jealousy of brother artists, and was eventually poisoned.
Both these flourished from the end of the 15th to the beginning
of the 16th centuries.

161. CorELL, the violinist and composer (a well-known
tune called “ Lonsdale,” in common congregational use, is from
his works), 1653-1713 ; 167. Cimarosa, 1755-1801 (already
mentioned) ; 170. Paganini, 1784-1840, are all distinguished
musical names of which you know something. The last of the
three was a harsh, avaricious man.

168 is Canova, of whom we have already said something.
It may now be added that he was a kindhearted man, who
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND, 247

excited as few jealousies among his contemporaries as any
artist that ever lived.

172 is GIuLIA Grist, the great Queen of the Opera. A
fine creature, physically and mentally.

171 is MALIBRAN, great as a singer, but almost greater as
an actress. She did much to raise the character of her pro-
fession in the eyes of men, by the purity and sweetness of her
character, during a short career, terminated by her death in
1836, at the age of 28. She was as much beloved in her day
as Jenny Lind in ours. Papa has told me of instances of her
kindness which were privately known to himself.

173. Dante. Of an ancient and noble family, he was born at
Florence in 1265. He was a brave soldier and a warm political
partisan. He was once sentenced to be burnt alive, as a
Ghibelline, when he was chief magistrate of Florence ; all his
property was confiscated by the Guelph party, and he became
first a wanderer, and then an exile. “Alas!” says he, in a very
pathetic passage,.“alas! had it pleased the Dispenser of the
universe that the occasion of this excuse had never existed ;
that neither others had committed wrong against me, nor I
suffered unjustly—snffered, I say, the punishment of exile and
poverty ; since it was the pleasure of the citizens of that fairest
and most renowned daughter of Rome, Florence, to cast me
forth out of her sweet bosom, in which I had my birth and
nourishment even to the ripeness of my age, and in which, with
her good-will, I desire with all my heart to rest this wearied
spirit of mine, and to terminate the time allotted to me on
earth. Wandering over almost every part to which this our
language extends, [ have gone about like a mendicant, showing
against my will the wounds with which fortune has smitten me,
and which is often imputed to his ill-deserying on whom it is
248, THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD,

inflicted, I have, indeed, been a vessel without sail and without
steerage, carried about to divers ports, and roads, and shores,
by the dry wind that springs out of sad poverty; and have
appeared before the eyes of many, who, perhaps, from some
report that had reached them, had imagined me of a different
form in whose sight not only my person was disparaged, but
every action of mine became of less value,”

Dante died at Ravenna, on the 14th September, 1321, of a
fever caused by fatigue and chagrin. After his death, political
hate forgot itself in doing honour to his genius, and Florence
strove hard to obtain possession of his remains, which, however,
lie at Ravenna, Michacl Angelo volunteered to erect a. monu-
ment to Dante at his own cost, if Leo X. would allow his
remains to be transported to Florence; but Leo too well bated
the man whose Latin treatise ‘De Monarchia’ was so adverse
to the temporal rule of the popes, to grant the petition of the
Florentines. Michael Angelo was deeply indebted to Dante
for subjects for his own works, and has memorialised the
intensest poet of modern times in two somnets which have been
translated by Hazlitt :—

“He from the world into the blind abyss
Descended and beheld the realms of woe;
Then to the seat of everlasting bliss,
And God’s own throne, led by his thonght sublime,
Alive he soar’d, and to our nether clime
Bringing a steady light, to us below
Reveal'd the secrets of eternity.
Ill did his thankless oountrymen repay
‘The fine desire; that which the good and great
So often from the insensate many meet,
‘That evil guerdon did our Dante find.
But gladly would J, to be such as he,
For his hard exile and calamity
Forego the happiest fortunes of mankind,




SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 249

How shall we speak of him? or our blind eyes
Are all unequal to his dazzling rays:

Easier it is to blame his enemies

Than for the tongue to tell his lightest praise.
For us did he explore the realms of woe ;

And at his coming did high heaven expand
Her lofty gates, to whom his native land
Refused to open hers. Yet shalt thou know,
Ungrateful city, in thine own despite,

That thou hast foster’d best thy Danté’s fame ;
For virtue when oppress’d appears more bright,
And brighter therefore shall his glory be,
Suffering of all mankind most wrongfully,
Since in the world there lives no greater name!”

In Michael Angelo’s copy of Dante the margins are filled
up with frequent sketches in pen and ink made by the great
painter as he read. Dante’s love for his Beatrice is a well-
known story. It began when he was nine years old! After
her death he was “persuaded” to marry another lady, with
whom he does not seem to have been happy. However, she
was kind to the children, and, probably, if we knew all, we
should have to conclude that the wife was a truer heroine than
the husband. Dante was unquestionably a man of a hot, harsh,
overbearing nature. His countenance is strongly marked, and
unmistakeably expressive of deep, settled melancholy, and a
powerful will.

174. Perrarcu, 1304-1374. This name is only second to
that of Dante in the literature of Italy and of the middle ages.
- His love for Laura, whom, being anu ecclesiastic, he could never
hope to marry, is immortalised in his sonnets, some written
before, some after her death, and is well known, even to you,
my Hindbad, I dare say. Petrarch was a scholar and a
250 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

diplomatist as well as a poet. His, too, is more than a merely
literary influence—it is that of devotion to an idea.
“ They keep his tomb in Arqua, where he died.”

176. ARtosto, the author of the ‘Orlando Furioso,’ is a
poet of later date, having been born in 1474, He is a very
brisk and vivacious writer, full of life and complicated adventure ;
a true story-teller, who never loses his thread; every way one
of the most remarkable of writers, but not entitled to the very
highest rank as a poet. He is buried at Ferrara, where he
died in 1533.

177. Torquato TAsso, 1544-1595, was even more unfortunate
than Dante. He was twice imprisoned for his love to Leonora
d’Este, sister of Alphonso II. Shelley gives a wretched picture
of the dungeon in which he lay chained for years :—‘ We went
afterwards to see his prison in the hospital of Sant? Anna, and
I enclose you a piece of the wood of the very door which for
seven years and three months divided this glorious being from
the air and the light which had: nourished in him those influences
which he has communicated, through his poetry, to thousands.
The dungeon is low and dark, and, when I say that it is really
a very decent dungeon, I speak as one who has seen the prisons
in the Doge’s palace of Venice. But it is a horrible abode for
the coarsest and meanest thing that ever wore the shape of man,
much more for one of delicate susceptibilities and elevated
fancies. It is low, and has a grated window, and being sunk
some feet below the level of the earth is full of unwholesome
damps. In the darkest corner is a mark in the wall where the
chains were riveted which bound him hand and foot. After
some time, at the instance of some cardinal, his friend the
duke allowed his victim a fireplace; the mark where it was
walled up yet remains.”
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 251

Tasso finished his great epic poem the ‘ Jerusalem Delivered’
in 1575, lived long enough to be solemnly crowned with laurel
in the Capitol, and then died. It is a wonder that with such
a delicate frame he could have reached fifty years of age.

178. Mmrastasio, 1698-1782, was one of the most fluent
and pleasant of third or fourth-rate poets. His tragic operas
commanded much attention in their time; but he is not a
vigorous or original writer. I (Amy) have a selection from his
writings which is pleasant enough, and reads in certain passages
like very mild Shakspeare. But I should fancy Metastasio
must be tedious reading “ in bulk.’”’*

180. ALFIERI, 1749-1803, was areal dramatist. His tragedies
have commanding merit. His life was a moral puzzle. He
was one of the most reckless of men, an inveterate traveller, and
singularly fond of horses. 179. The life of Alfieri, along with
that of Gonpont, has been recently written by a Mr. Copping.
Goldoni was not only a very prolific comic dramatist—he was
the great improver of the Italian stage.

181 is a bust of Gavazzi.

182 is CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.

183 is the famous NicnoLas MAcHIAVEL.

185 is the more than famous GALILEO, 1564-1642. Surely a
noble face this! Not only as one of the greatest of those
scientific discoverers and. faithful students of Nature who have
contributed each his own earnest share of labour toward placing
her resources at our command, but as a martyr for freedom of
thought, Galileo has especial claims upon human love and
reverence. Where should we all have been if it were not for
the legacy of mental independence left us by such men? It

* J think Amy must have caught that expression from her brother, who is
amerchant. It is a phrase familiar in the city, but not literary —S. 8.
252 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

were an ungrateful task, if ever so easy, to portion out honours
to the great benefactors of the human race. But one is some-
times in the mood to say that, of Italy’s worthies, the great
world could better have spared even Dante than the self-sacrific-
ing Galileo and Columbus.

192 is Prince Evcenn, 1663-1736, of Italian origin, not-
withstanding his French name. He was a clever and successful
soldier—

« Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won,
And our good Prince Eugéne.”

Hindbad will remember those lines of Southey’s on the battle of
Blenheim.

rn

The Italy of to-day is, socially and politically, a most painful
topic for every lover of human growth and goodness. The
national genius, moral and other, seems to have slidden from
under the influences of progress which have told almost every-
where else, save in Spain. Even in our own time Italy has pro-
duced great men ; but between her people at large and the rest
of Europe there seems a great gulf fixed. Altogether she
presents a wretched, disheartening spectacle. How she is
tortured and tyrannised over by Pope and Emperor we all
know; what the innate capacities of her people are we know ;
what part they once played in European politics we all know—
but “shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon” her future.
She has not, alas! like Germany, a commanding modern
literature ; and ours are days in which her living art commands
no sympathy from the multitude in England, except what
exhales in applauses to a stray vocalist. With ourselves, less
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 2538

richly endowed in the arts which appeal to eye and ear than
the Italians,

“ Freedom broadens slowly down
From precedent to precedent ;”

and we cannot be got to contemplate with the energy of active
helpfulness such volcanic efforts as would be necessary to set
Italy free, and leave her growing-room among the nations.
This, my Hindbad, is grave sort of speech to held to one so
young as you, and, to tell you the truth, it is chiefly papa’s
writing; but I have a presentiment that this ‘Gift’ will pass
into other hands than Hindbad’s, and I widen my range both
of topics and of phraseology in accordance with the presenti-
ment. But even you, dear boy, are not too young to feel
deeply for a country where women and lads are cruelly beaten
with rods for small offences, and people suspected of political
designs are tortured upon the smallest pretence. No, dear
little Hindbad, and you, Bella, looking over his shoulder, you
are old enough to feel and think, and I hope you will, about the
unhappy lot of Italy at this time; I do not expect you to be
politicians, you know, but I should like to see you with all your
sympathies wide awake, and not wholly ignorant of the great
world which lies out of England. Above all, I wish to see you,
like a true English boy and girl, quick to feel for the oppressed,
whoever and wherever they may be.

Tue Frenca PortRAir GALLERY.

196. Jean Gougon flourished about 1550. A Renaissance
sculptor who was killed during the Massacre of St. Bartholomew.
The Caryatides by him in the Renaissance Court 1 have
already referred to.

Q
254 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

197. Stwon Vourt, 1582-1641. The father of French
painting.

198. NicHonAs Poussin, 1594-1665. The most celebrated
of French artists. He was a noble self-reliant man, and some-
what of a stoic, and his style of painting is remarkably {ree
from affectation.

199. Pizrre MicNaRD, painter; 200. Awprf LE Notre,
architect and gardener, who planned the gardens of Versailles ;
201. EusracheE LE SUEUR, painter; and 202. CHARLES LE
Bron, painter, are all celebrated names of the seventeenth
century. Le Sueur and Le Brun were both artists of all but
the highest order.

205, JEAN BApristE DE Lutiy (1633-1687) is another very
remarkable name. Lully, who belongs to the times of “ Le
Grand Monarque,” was a worthless wretch, but his story has
often been told to the young as an astonishing example of
natural faculty and industry triumphing over circumstances.
Lully, when young, was a scullery-boy. He became, however,
one of the greatest of violinists, and was the creator of the
French school of music. A rare genius was Lully, and a rare
specimen of heartlessness too.

208**, MADEMOISELLE CLATRON, 1723- 1803. A very great
French actress, and, like Rachel, humbly born. How commonly
is this the case with the artist !—oftener, I think, than with the
mere man of letters. She was a woman of real genius, and,
stimulated by Voltaire and by enlightened opinion in other
quarters, did something towards banishing conventionalities of
attire from the French stage. Like many other actresses, she
lived to a fine old age.

209 is Jacquzs Louis Davin (1748-1825), the protégé of
Napoleon, who “did not paint Englishmen,” and is said to
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 255

have refused to paint Wellington. A man of considerable
faculty as an artist, but limited in his range both of feeling and
execution. Not by any means of an amiable or reverent nature.

213, Gros, and 214, Guerin, both painters, are tolerably
well known to Englishmen. ‘The latter had, if not the better
gift, the purer taste. Gros became hypochondriacal towards
the close of his life, and eventually drowned himself. Both these
artists flourished from about 1770 to 1835.

215. This is the familiar face of CouNT D’ORSAY, who was
not only a man of taste and ability, but a man of a nobler cha-
racter than the tongue of calumny has made out. He finished
a career which scarcely did justice either to his gifts or his
opportunities, at Paris, in 1852.

216 is MADEMOISELLE RacHEL, the greatest living actress in
tragedy. She belongs to the classic school, and is wanting in
nature and in variety. Still her genius is not only unquestioned
but unquestionable. She is one of the most remarkable women
of her day. Her birth was the humblest—her cheek is said yet
to retain a mark from the bite of a dog with whom she con-
tended in a gutter for a bone. Hier life has not been worthy of
her genius. Rachel does not rank with those who have ennobled
the profession she follows, as Malibran and Jenny Lind have
done.

217 is the beautiful DrAnz DE Porrters, a heroine of the
sixteenth century. One of the most influential women of her
time, of whom you will read more some day, if you read much
history.

218 is CoRNEILLE, the first of French tragedians. You, my
Hindbad, have heard or read of the ‘Cid’ and ‘Les Horaces ;’
and as you know I do not like French tragedy at its best, you
will believe me when I say that I can quite enter into the

Q 2
256 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

passionate admiration of the French for the writings of this true
hero of art. Corneille is nothing like our own Shakspeare, but
we can no more conceive French literature without him than we
can English literature without the latter. He was born in 1606,
and died in 1684; having lived a life of the old Roman stamp,
and poor to the last, when a few touches of courtliness might have
made his “ fortune.”

220 is La Fontatne the fabulist.

221 is Moxtisre (1622-1673). Whatshall I say of him? He
was much greater, my Hindbad, than you or I can know at
present, I hear competent judges say he must take rank with
our Shakspeare in universality and fertility of genius. He was,
what so few writers of dramas are, a dramatist; a writer, my
Hindbad, who sank himself in his characters, and made them all
talk and act like men who moved and spoke of their own accord.
I dare say you can guess my meaning. One man will write a
drama in which it seems as if Revenge, and Love, and 'Truthful-
ness, and so on, were turned into persons and made to talk.
Another will draw you an individual so well that you seem to
have known him all your life: you say, “ There’s a man—cut him
out, and he'll walk.” This is what Shakspeare does, and what
Moliére does; and he is greater in comedy than even Shakspeare.
Like him, he was an actor as well as an author; but he led a
more cheequered and passionate life, at a time when actors were
regarded as Pariahs. He was inconstant and unhappy in his
attachments; and “thereby hangs a tale,” too long for me to
tell you, which places the heroism of which true friendship is
capable in the sublimest light. The tale is not so creditable to
Molitre as to his friend. Still, I do not wish to give you an
ignoble idea of this great man, who was, indeed, far from
ignoble. For the sake of the poor players who were dependent
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 257

upon him, he persisted in going on the stage to act in his own
‘ Malade Imaginaire’ on the very day of his death. “ What
would you have me do?” heasked : “ there are fifty poor fellows
looking to my exertions, and, so long as I can bear up, I must
not rob them of their daily bread.” That night he burst a
blood-vessel on the stage, but would not leave it till the curtain
dropped. No one would come to confess him. No one gave
‘him the sacrament. The coffin was interred by night, and only
one handful of earth granted by king and priest to be thrown
on it. Two hundred people, bearing torches, were present at
the funeral. In 1817 or 1818 (1 forget which) the coffin was
removed to Pérela Chaise, after high mass had. been said over it.
A century after the death of Moliére a fine bust of him was set
up in the Academy, under which was the line—“ Rien ne manquait
& sa gloire; il manquait & la notre” (nothing was wanting to his
glory; ours was incomplete without him). By a curious coinci-
dence, the Archbishop who refused to grant Christian burial to
Moliére had, after his own death, to lie long in ignominious
state before any one could be found to pronounce his funeral
oration. Some one was at last hit upon, but he delivered the
conventional discourse upon the express condition that he should
not be expected to say anything of the deceased. Moliére’s was
a life of generous lawlessness; the Archbishop’s one of the
foulest hypocrisy. Molitre’s life was fully up to the standard of
his time; the Archbishop’s below the standard of all time.
When you shall have sufficient knowledge of the world to under-
stand him, there is a great treat in store for you, my Hindbad,
in reading Molitre.
224 is Borteau (1636-1711), author of the‘ Art Poétique,’ «Le
Lutrin,’ &c. He was the Pope of French literature, with, perhaps,
less rhetorical power than the English poet. He was a good man,
258 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

225 is Racine (1639-1699), who is only inferior to Corneille
because he did not create French tragedy as the other did. He
as more command over the grand and the terrible than Corneille.
His versification is considered perfect. His character has been
variously estimated. He was much more devotional in his habits
and tastes than Molitre; but he has been accused of unworthy
pride, of meanness, and even of want of heart. He did not like
the society of ladies, and wrote a ‘ Satire against Women.’
He was a good prose-writer, as well as a poet. His ‘ Athalie’
and his ‘ Phédre’ are considered his best works; and of the
two, the majority of good critics prefer (if I remember) the
‘ Athalie;’ which was not brought out at first with any public
success.

230 is Le Sace (1683-1741). Ah, you know what he wrote!
‘Gil Blas’ is, I suppose, more read than any other work of French
genius. I think we might say that it is as well known as the
‘ Pilerim’s Progress;’ for though there are circles where ‘Gil
Blas’ would not be read with zest and the other would, the
converse holds true as well. Le Sage was all his life poor, and,
like a large number of French men of letters, full of the brusquerte
of a proud clever man. Independence pur e¢ simple does not
seem to be a French quality (I except Béranger): you almost
always get it adulterated with pride. ‘ Gil Blas,’ like the
‘ Diable Boiteux,’ is the book of a man of the world, and you
must not expect to understand it all for many years to come.
Thomson founded his tragedy of ‘'Tancred and Sigismunda’
(which is still occasionally produced) upon the story called ‘Le
Mariage de Vengeance’ in the fourth book.

233 is VOLTAIRE, the most versatile writer, the greatest man
of letters France ever produced. He was scarcely a philosopher,
though he wrote a ‘ Philosophical Dictionary ’—he was a, philo-
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 259

sophical critic. About the merits of his poetry, dramatic and
other, there will always be great differences of opinion. If his
‘ Henriade’ is not an epic poem, France has had no epic poet ;
but I confess I can hardly conceive of any one reading it
through. Neither do I like Voltaire’s tragedies. His satire
was of a very high order. He was one of those men in whom
great talent runs genius so close that you can hardly draw the
line at which the shortcoming appears. It may seem pedantry
to say Voltaire was not a man of genius, but was a man of such
yaried and consummate talent as to embarrass our definitions,
though not our perceptions, of the thing called genius; and yet
that is what I feel as if I must say. Voltaire was not a man of
a noble nature. He was as thoroughly French, too, as Moliére
was cosmopolitan. As far as I can judge, Voltaire was not a
bad man, though his writings are full of malicious irreverence.
Be was born in 1694, and died,—“ smothered in praise,” says
Cowper,—in 1778. Frenchmen in general are as sensitive
about his glory as about their reverse at Waterloo.

236. Micuet DE MonraicnE—born 1533, died 1592—was
the pleasantest and most original of essayists; a writer who can
count as many favourites, if not more, among men of genius who
have flourished since, than any French author whomsoever. He
was a quaint, playful sceptic; a man of noble morale, trusted.
and beloved on all hands in times when the flames of political
and religious hate burned fiercely ; and yet a man who seemed
to toy with life, and let “circumstances” do as they pleased
with him. Perhaps he has been more quoted than any other
French author, not excepting Rousseau. He was a most en-
joying man, and is the most enjoyable of all thinkers who have
put on paper things not to be let die. “Montaigne and his
cat”—though the man was a foreigner and lived three centuries
260 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

ago—is as familiar a combination as “ Hogarth and his dog,”
and one perhaps more beloved.

Rén& Descartes (238), 1596-1650.—This is one of the
greatest of philosophic names, and one of the most influential.
The “ Cartesian philosophy” has ceased, as such, to play a
prominent part on the stage of thought, but its influence upon
modern developments is undoubted. He began life as a sol-
dier, but quitted arms for philosophy when twenty-three years
old, and made himself a name which is spoken in the same
breath with that of Bacon. But Desesrtes had in him more of
the mathematician and metaphysician, and less of the philoso-
pher and perhaps also of the methodiser, than Bacon. His
mind was, also, infinitely less poetic. Bacon, again, was not a
great scientific discoverer, like Descartes. He did not marry
algebra to geometry, or make discoveries in optics. Descartes
did for French prose what Chaucer did for English poetry.

240 is VAUBAN, the great engineer of the seventeenth cen-
tury, of whom you will often read in history, and sometimes in
poetry. Prior says something, I think, in one of his epistles in
verse—

“Of apes that storm or take a town
Almost as well as Count Vauban.”

Vauban was a man of sterling character.

241 was his contemporary TourNerrort, the great French
botanist.

242 is Rotxin the historian (1661-1741). Kirke White—
not always the best of critics, but right enough in this case—-
describes him, in a letter to brother Neville, as “a valuable and
truly pious writer, but so crammed and garnished with reflec-
tions that you lose the thread of the story while the poor man
is prosing about the morality of it, when, after all, the moral is
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 261

too obvious to need insisting on.” Rollin was a pious man, as
well as a pious writer.

243 is JEAN BAPTISTE Rousseau, the lyrist, 1669-1741.
You, my Hindbad, have often got by heart little pieces of his,
I know ; but I cannot suppose you appreciate, at present, all the
grace and point of his writing.

244 is REAuMUR, the chemist, who gives his name to a thermo-
meter (1683-1757).

245 is Burron, the great naturalist (1707-1788)—a man
who, I believe, ranks higher among scientific men than among
general readers. You remember that story of his about feeing
his valet to wake him in the morning, or rather to force him out
of the bed, when he could not manage to form the habit of
early rising.

246 is Linnf, or Linneeus, who lived and died in Sweden,
and, notwithstanding his French descent, is always called “ the
great Swedish naturalist.” Born 1707, died 1778.

247 is JEAN Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778). One of the
most influential of modern writers, and one of the most inscrut-
able of moral puzzles. He was a man ofa gipsy nature—
seeming utterly destitute of all that we summarise in the word
“principle.” Yet he had the keenest perceptions of abstract
right, and the finest sensibilities. He was one of the most elo-
quent and pathetic of writers, and conduced largely to the
French Revolution. He is not so much quoted as he used to
be: in the early part of this century he was the Bible of every
sentimentalist. His life is one of the wretchedest stories of
moral infirmity constantly slidmg down to baseness, contained
in the whole range of biography.

249 is LAGRANGE, the mathematician and astronomer (1736-
18138).

Q3
262 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD,

250 is LA Pérovuse, the well-known navigator of the
eighteenth century.

251 is Monteonrizr.—Ah! you know who he was and what
he did? (1745-1799.)

252 is DEnon, the great Egyptian traveller (1747-1825).

253 is JussIEU, the botanist (1748-1836).

256 is the great CUVIER, who is said to have been as good as
he was great. You know what a great comparative anatomist
he was. There is a story that the devil called on him once,
and threatened to eat him—to which threat the great man
coolly replied, surveying the ugly visitor from head to foot,
“ Kat me! you couldn’t do it! Horns, hoofs,—hm! de-
cidedly graminivorous.” Cuvier was born in 1769, and died
in 1832. ‘

257. Ah! who is this? The Good Knight Bayarp, the
“ Chevalier sans peur et sans reproche ;” the flower of medieval
chivalry, and the type of the gentleman-soldier for all time.
Whom, but our own Sir Philip Sidney, can we place in a niche
at his side? His real name was Pierre du Terrail, and he was
born in 1476 at Chateau Bayard, not far from Grenoble. All
his near ancestors were brave soldiers; he was the bravest of
the brave, the mirror of knightly courage, grace, and truth.
His course of true love, I am sorry to say, did not run smooth.
But he was too noble a soul to turn maudlin, and after a life
of incessant activity, in which he fully redeemed in the battle-
field the promise of the tourney in his adolescence, he died on
the “tented plain” in 1524, mourned over by his enemies—
for he had been kind to prisoners-of-war ; and all true knights,
friends or foes, knew very well that when he fell the sun of
knighthood sank in darkness.

260 is Conieny (1517-1572), the Huguenot hero and
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 263

martyr. You remember the allusion to him in Macaulay’s
‘ Ivry,—
“ And as we look’d on them we thought of Seine’s enpurpled flood,
And good Coligny’s hoary hair all dappled with his blood.”
But Coligny was not an old man when he died, if his hair was
white.

277 is the Republican LarayErre, whose history is inter-
woven with that of American Independence, and of Napoleon.
He was born in 1757, and died in 1834.

279 is MarsHAL Massena, one of the first of soldiers, and
one of the most infamous of men.

285 is Nuy, the “bravest of the brave ”—disgracefully shot
in 1815, in his forty-seventh year. Every way as noble as
Massena was base. His is one of the dearest names in military
history.

292 is RicweLreu (1585-1642). I cannot say I like the
face. You know he was Louis XIII.’s Prime Minister, and
a very useful instrument in the history of France, though
tyrannical, heartless, and persecuting ; one of those men who
have made their indelible mark upon the history of the world by
energy of character without conscience—a comparatively easy
task, and one that can ennoble none! The true great man,
Hindbad, admired of all the gods, is he who does great things,
and yet keeps the bloom of a pure conscience upon his soul.
Of course you can succeed if, once getting a fulerum for your
lever, you do not mind whose throat you cut, or what falsehood
you are guilty of. But to succeed, and leave no trail of suffer-
ing, except upon your own heart—hoc opus, hoc labor est.

The pupil and successor of Richelieu was the less able, but
perhaps more infamous Mazarin, 293 (1602-1661).

294 is Buatse PascaL (1623-1662), of whom you have, I
264 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

dare say, read how he had worked out, at twelve years of age,
with a piece of charcoal on the floor tiles of his chamber, the
thirty-second proposition of the first book of Euclid, before he
had ever heard of a triangle, parallelogram, or circle, or knew
the definition of a straight line. Pascal was a natural philo-
sopher, a metaphysician, and a moralist, as well as a ma-
thematician. His ‘ Provincial Letters,’ and his ‘ Thoughts,’
will never cease to be influential upon the minds of those who
themselves move other minds. His style is singularly beautiful.
He died early, the victim of a gradual depreciation of the vital
powers, from the corrosion of an apprehensive nature, steeped
in the bitterness of ascetic views of life. His carriage being one
day nearly turned over into the Seine, he received a shock
from which he never recovered, and, for the rest of his life,
laboured under the monomania that he was always on the point
of falling down a precipice. Blaise Pascal was one of the
greatest of Frenchmen. The world could ill spare the thought
of him from its spiritual Walhalla.* Much better could it have
dispensed with—

295.° BossueT (1627-1704). Bossuet was the most eloquent
of French ecclesiastics, and one of the most fiery and zealous,
Extracts from his ‘ Universal History, intended to show the per-
petual presence of the Divine hand in human affairs—the par-
ticular Providence (so to speak) of the general scheme—form
a common text-book for young French scholars. I am sorry
to have to add that Bossuet at one period of his life persecuted
the amiable and not less gifted

Frangois DE Sauignac pe LA Morte FENELON, 296
(1651-1715)—one of the humblest and most affectionately

* This criticism is of course intended to be spoken with the reserve of
“humanly speaking.” —WNote by Hetty,
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 265

pious of human creatures. His writings, Roman Catholic though
he was, are so saturated with the spirit of true devotion that
they are highly prized by Protestants; and many a large bo: k
that could be named is, I understand, only a growth from seeds
of thought sown by this sweet-souled prelate. He was not only
a man of poetic mould, as you see in ‘ Télémaque,’ but he was a
poet and a philosophic thinker of a wide range of faculty.
Some day, probably, you will know more of him in this latter
capacity. In the mean time bear in mind that the shrinking
humility of his nature was such that he perhaps never put forth
all his energy in every direction in which he was capable cf
benefiting mankind; and accept this translation of one of his
poems, which has very much delighted us all—Amy, and Hetty,
‘and papa :—

Tor Livre ABBEY oF CARENNAGC,

“ Hre—in God’s house of the open dome—
Vigil is kept by the pilgrim-breeze ;
Here, from its sun-illumined tome,
Labour intones its litanies.
For discipline, here is the chastening rain ;
For burden, the fruit of the bending tree;
The thorn of the rose for a pleasant pain ;
And palm for a costless victory.
Oh! if my vow but bound to these,
*Twere long ere this laggard step grew slack.
O that the wilful world would please
To leave me my flocks, my birds, and bees,
My ivied stall and my hours of ease,
And my little Abbey of Carennac!

Far from the city’s guarded gate,
Free from the crush of its silken crowds,
I see the sun in his purple state,
And the changing face of the courtier-clouds.
266

THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

My thoughts are mine when my task is sped ;
My head aches not, and my heart is full ;
And the laurels that cumber my careless tread
Are the only ones that I choose to pull.

Away from my friends, I love them best;
Away from my books, no lore I lack :
Here—no longer a flying guest,
With wavering foot that finds no rest—
Truth comes home to this lonely breast
In this little Abbey of Carennac.

Thus, half-hid from the smile of Spring
Under the bough of a blossom’d tree,
My single wish is the grace to sing
The praise of a spot where a bard should be.
Sounding clear as the forest call—
Wakening man in the monarch’s breast,
Many-voiced as the waters fall—
Speaking to every soul’s unrest,
My song should seize with a minstrel sway
Yon green twin-isles and their busy bac,
The hamlet white and the convent gray,
And the lodge for the wanderer on his way,
And thus to my France in my little lay
Give my little Abbey of Carennac.

To journey again o’er the hard highway ;

To enter a garrulous, troublous train ;
Uncall’d to come, and unbid obey ;

To feign it pleasure, and feel it pain.
To float—a straw on an idle stream ;

To glitter—a mote by the sunbeam sought ;
To walk—a shade in a waking dream ;

To strive for nothings where all is nought.
An iron tongue to summon away,

And a rope of sand to hold me back,
Are the call to go, and the will to stay—
Clamorous Duty and still Delay :
O gilded gloom! O green and gay

Of my little Abbey of Carennac !

cr
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 267

Fields that teem with the fruits of peace,

Let your reapers reap, and your binders bind!
I cannot flee for a fond caprice

Yon stony spot to my hand assign’d,
To me are number’d the seeds that grow;

Not mine the loss of the perish’d grain,
If working I watch for the time to sow,

And waiting pray for the sun and rain.
My day to God and the King I lend:

The wish of my heart will bring me back
A few last, lightsome hours to spend,
And to pass with my lifelong look’d-for friend,
Through a quiet night and a perfect end,

From my little Abbey of Carennac.” *

300 is CHARLES THE Firru (1500-1558) of Germany and
Spain. One of the most curious compounds that ever reigned.
Victorious and successful for many years, when at last defeated
he resigned his crown and retired to a monastery, where he spent
his time in cutting out wooden Marionnettes, hanging his
chamber-walls with watches, and voracious eating and drinking.
On his road to the retirement which he chose, he halted by
night at the house of one of his nobles. ‘This noble entertained
his king in the most sumptuous manner, and warmed his bed
with a warming-pan of gold, heated with sticks of cinnamon,
instead of common wood. Now the magnificent monarch hap-
pened not to like cinnamon, and revenged himself upon his
host for this well-intended misapprehension of the likings of
the royal nose by ordering him to be paid for the entertainment
like a common innkeeper! The rate at which this pious (!)
monarch ate and drank in his religious (!) retirement is not to

* The author takes the liberty of extracting this exquisitely graceful trans-
lation from Chambers’ Journal of October 25, 1856, Who is the translator he
does not know, though he would be glad to know.

@
268 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

be described. Contemporary chroniclers speak with amaze-
ment of the length of time for which the royal nose would dis-
appear down a flagon of Rhenish—when the king drank you
fancied his physiognomy would never see daylight again. Nor
did it, till the liquor was all gone. Charles measured every one
by his capacity to minister to his appetite. His cooks were
often in despair for some new thing to give him for dinner!
The universe was recklessly scoured for sausages! Like Louis
Napoleon, Charles was fond of sausages. “ Ah!” said he
lugubriously one day, of some purveyor, “he does not make
sausages like my mother now in bliss.” Yet the man was
capable of good actions, and one is sometimes glad to take
refuge in the thought that he must have been crazed.

303 is CuarLEs THE NintH, 1550-1574, in whose reign
oceurred the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. Charles might have
been a passable monarch under favourable influences, and he
had conscience enough to suffer all the rest of his life from
remorse for this cruel massacre.

305 is Henry tHe Fourta—the hero of the ‘ Henriade,’ the
idol of the French people, the Huguenot soldier, the promulgator
of the Edict of Nantes, which, you know, was revoked when our
Spitalfields became peopled with French refugees. Henry was
an able man, like his minister the great Sully, and during his
reign the expansive genius of Protestantism worked wonders in
improving France. He was not pure in his private relations,
and eventually recanted his Protestantism. He was stabbed by
Ravaillac in 1610.

310 is the unfortunate Marte ANTOINETTE, wife of Louis XVI.,
beheaded in the French Revolution in 1793.

311 is NaPoLEON BUONAPARTE.

312. Louis PHILirrr.
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 269

$12*. Louis NaApoLron, the present Emperor of France.
What a strange panorama is the life of this man! Yesterday
escaping from prison with a plank of -wood under his arm to
complete a carpenter’s disguise—to-day the emperor of the
second state in Europe! Here is an anecdote of his childhood,
taken from his Life by Mr. James Augustus St. John. When
he was asleep one morning with his brother, “ the nurse left the
room for a moment. During her absence, a young Savoyard;
as black as Erebus, descended the chimney, and, coming out into
the nursery, shook himself, and filled the whole chamber with a
dark cloud. Louis Napoleon, a light sleeper, awoke, and was
seized with terror on beholding a sweep. But soon calling to
‘mind what Madame de Boubers had told him about the poverty
and misery of the little Savoyards, he climbed over the railings
of his cot, and, running across the room in his nightshirt, and
mounting on a chair, took forth from a drawer his pocket-money,
and gave it, purse and all, to the little sweep. He then tried
to climb back into his bed, but found it impracticable, upon
which his brother called the nurse.

“ Had this happened to any common boy, it wih hardly have
interested any one beyond his mother, or at most the family
circle; but the court adulators, converting the incident into an
historical event, had the scene painted on a porcelain vase,
which they presented to Hortense on her birthday. Having
more money than she knew how to spend judiciously, Josephine
thought this an excellent opportunity for indulging in a little
domestic extravagance, and formed the design of reproducing
the sketch on the vase in a grand oil-painting.” One day
when the Emperor Alexander came, little Louis ‘ took a little
signet ring which his uncle Eugene had given him, and
approaching the emperor on tiptoe, that he might attract no
270 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD,

attention to his movements, he gently slipped the ring into the
emperor’s hand, and then ran hastily away. His mother called
him to her, and inquired what he had been doing. ‘I had
nothing but that ring,’ he replied, blushing and hanging down
his head; ‘my uncle Eugéne gave it to me, and I wished to
give it to the emperor, because he is good to mamma.’ The
emperor Alexander embraced the boy, and, putting it on the
ring which held the bunch of seals suspended to his watch, said,
with emotion, that he would wear it for ever.”

Ah, little Louis! coquetting with a sweep in your nightshirt,
would any one have thought, to see you then pattering about the
room, that you would ever become the author of a coup-d’état ?
the invisible chief-actor in a scene of horror like that of “les
jours de Décembre,” when “masses of soldiers, infuriated with
brandy, extended in long lines through the great thoroughfares,
to intimidate or slaughter the population.

“Suddenly, on the Boulevards, when the hronging and rexviwwa
passengers least expected it, a pistol was fired, by whom is
not known. ‘The soldiers immediately presented arms, a line
of flafne passed along the streets, followed by the report of
musketry, and the shrieks of men, women, and children rolling
upon the earth in mortal agony. The soldiers again loaded
their pieces, and raked the windows and balconies of the opposite
houses, killing indiscriminately all who presented themselves.
The streets were encumbered with the dead; the kennels ran
red with blood ; here the grey hairs of age were dabbled in the
gory puddle, and there infants crawled over the dead bodies
of their mothers. The drunken soldiers proceeded with their
butchery until nothing that had life was seen in the streets.”
Let us turn from your heavy-looking face to that of your pretty
wife (312**), with her child-woman face, and take leave of la
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 271

belle France in such good humour as anything so pretty naturally
throws us into!

GERMAN PorTRAIT GALLERY.

313. Perer Pavn Rupes, the painter. Rubens was born,
not at Cologne, as all but universally stated, but at Siegen,
in the duchy of Nassau, in 1577. This, which I believe is
established, puts an end to the disputes between Antwerp and
Cologne for the honour of having given birth to him. Rubens
was one of the most prolific and versatile of painters. His
Descent from the Cross is considered his greatest work. ‘There
is a certain kind of red which he uses so profusely in his drapery
that it is probably the first thing by which an unaccustomed eye
tries to distinguish a picture by Rubens—for others paint the
female figure coarsely as well as he. The Crucifixion of St. Peter
is said to contain the best evidences of his study of the human
form. Rubens was a very active and versatile man ; he under-
stood many languages, and conversed freely in Dutch, English,
German, French, Italian, Spanish, and Latin. He died at
sixty-three years of age of gout “ striking inwards ” as it is called.

314. HanveEL, 1684-1759. The grandest of musical com-
posers, and the finest organist that ever lived. He has an
unsurpassed power of varying a musical theme; and, amid
incessant repetition, is always a potent master over the affec-
tions, chiefly those of a graver sort. He was, as he looks, a
somewhat coarse and a very passionate man—but, to speak
conventionally, “not a bad fellow on the whole.”

315 is WINCKELMANN, 1717-1768, a really useful antiquary,
and the author of a ‘History of Art’ which tended largely to
inaugurate the new school of criticism in which Lessing first
and Goethe afterwards were the great masters.
272 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

316 is Francis JosepH HAypn, 1732-1809. One of the
greatest, and always the most intelligible, of modern musical
composers. His melodies are so sweet, flowing, and charac-
teristic, that his works are special favourites with thousands who
are quite destitute of musical science. There are some glimpses
of him, in which biographic truth is not forsaken, in George
Sand’s ‘Consuelo,’ When very young, and very poor, he put
himself under the yoke of the great musical master of the day,
Porpora, and submitted to all kinds of household drudgery
for the sake of his instructions. His “instrumentation” was
good. He was a very fertile producer.

317. Mozart, 1756-1791. The most: precocious of musical
genuises. He could play well and compose a little when he was
four years old, and at thirteen was a world’s wonder and the
composer of an opera. His was an exquisitely delicate organiza-
tion, and he was a singularly sensitive and affectionate,ghild,
often asking -of his friends, ‘‘ But are you sure you love me?”
During the earlier part of his short career (he died, like so
many other men of surpassing genius and passionate nature,
midway between thirty and forty) he did not seem to suffer
in health from his extraordinary activity of brain. But at
thirty-five he died, just after completing his ‘ Requiem.’
Perhaps his ‘ Don Giovanni’ is the finest of operas.

320 is THORWALDSEN, of whom you have already learned
something. His father was an Icelander, and he himself wrought
in a dockyard when young. His fortune seems at one period of
his life to have hung upon an “ accident.” Detained at Rome
by a mistake at the passport office, he came in contact with
Mr. Hope, the Englishman, who purchased his “ Jason.”
During the few hours for which his detention was to have
lasted, Mr. Hope happened to call and ask the price of his
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 273

“ Jason,” and was told six hundred zecchini. Like the generous
man he was, Mr. Hope gave him eight hundred, and Thor-
waldsen took courage, stayed in Rome, wrought on, and before
middle life was celebrated enough all over Europe to be wel-
comed home, when he at last went northward, in a manner the
most triumphal, the crowd drawing his carriage through the
streets in their enthusiasm. He was born in 1770, and died in
» 1844.

821 is BrErHoveN, the deaf musician,—deaf from about
twenty-six years old. A sort of German Wordsworth of me-
lody, whose fame has been widening and deepening in propor-
tion to the growth of a true taste in musical matters. Beet-
hoven’s music has a mystic depth of sentiment, and a certain
voluminousness of harmony, altogether his own. He was not an
amiable man. (1770-1827.)

323. CuristIaN RAucu, sculptor.

327. GLUCK, a very famous musical name in the eighteenth
century. Do you remember, my Hindbad, in the story of
‘Les Deux Réputations’ in the ‘ Veillées du Chateau’ of
Madame de Genlis, the allusions to the dilettante squabblings
about Gluckists and Piccinists? Is it not Luzincour who says
“ Messieurs, je ne suis ni Gluchiste ni Picciniste—que voulez
vous?” Gluck did true service in the cause of improving dra-
matic music, and taught the popular taste to look for expression
as well as melody and harmony.

330 is Lupwic ScHWANTHALER, the sculptor.

33]. Fenrx Mrprtssonun Barraonpy, the author of ‘ St.
Paul,’ ‘ Elijah, the ‘Hymn of Praise,’ and the wonderful
‘ Midsummer Night’s Dream’ music. Another man of impas-
sioned and delicate genius, who died just before reaching middle
life. The death of a beloved sister did something towards
274 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

sapping his strength. His compositions are of the highest
order, and they are rising in the judgment of all music-lovers.
M. Benedict, in a brief memoir of Mendelssohn, gives a very
winning picture of the child-genius, which we have copied out
for our Hindbad. “It was,” says he, “in the beginning of
May, 1821, when walking in the streets of Berlin, with my
master and friend, Carl Maria Von Weber, he directed my
attention to a boy, apparently about eleven or twelve years old,
who, on perceiving the author of ‘ Freyschiitz,’ ran towards him,
giving him a most hearty and friendly greeting.

“¢?Tis Felix Mendelssohn,’ said Weber, introducing me at
once to the prodigious child, of whose marvellous talent and
execution I had already heard so much at Dresden. I shall
never forget the impression of that day on beholding that beau-
tiful youth, with his auburn hair clustering in ringlets round his
shoulders, the look of his brilliant clear eyes, and the smile of
innocence and candour on his lips. He would have it that we
should go with him at once to his father’s house; but as Weber
had to attend a rehearsal, he took me by the hand, and made
me pun a race till we reached his home. Up he went briskly
to the drawing-room, where, finding his mother, he exclaimed,
‘Here is a pupil of Weber’s, who knows a great deal of his
music of the new opera. Pray, mamma, ask him to play it for
us.’ And so, with an irresistible impetuosity, he pushed me to
the pianoforte, and made me remain there until I had exhausted
all the store of my recollections. When I then begged of him
to let me hear some of his own compositions, he refused, but
played from memory such of Bach’s fugues or Cramer’s exer-
cises as I could name. At last we parted—not without a pro-
mise to meet again. On my very next visit I found him seated
on a footstool, before a small table, writing with great earnest-
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 275

ness some music. On my asking what he was about, he re-
plied, gravely, ‘I am finishing my new Quartet for piano and
stringed instruments.’

“TI could not resist my own boyish curiosity to examine this
composition, and, looking over his shoulder, saw as beautiful a
score as if it had been written by the most skilful copyist. It was
his first Quartet in C minor, published afterwards as Opus 1.

“ But whilst I was lost in admiration and astonishment at
beholding the work of a master written by the hand of a boy,
all at once he sprang up from his seat, and, in his playful man-
ner, ran to the pianoforte, performing note for note all the
music from Freyschiitz, which three or four days previously he
had heard me play, and asking, ‘ How do you like this chorus?’
‘ What do you think of this air?’ ‘ Do you not admire this
overture?’ and soon. Then, forgetting quartets and Weber,
down we went into the garden, he clearing high hedges with a
leap, running, singing, or climbing up the trees like a squirrel
—the very image of health and happiness.”

Alas, poor boy !—Mendelssohn was much attached to Eng-
land and English people. He died in 1847, aged 38.

334 is KuopsTock, the poet, author of the ‘ Messiah,’ which
is now no longer talked about as a great work of art either in
England or in Germany, though it inaugurated a new literary
era in the latter country. It was Klopstock who put the mo-
dern intellect of Germany in the road for discovering what trea-
sures of expression lay hidden in its native tongue; and he is
by no means so destitute of poetic faculty as some of his modern
depreciators have pretended. But his rhetoric and rhapsody
pale before the passion of Schiller, the invention of Uhland, the
diablerie of Heine, the power and meaning of Goethe. He
will always have “a name to live” in German literature; but
276 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

his writings, in the mass, will soon cease to have more than an
historical interest for the appreciative reader of poetry.*
Klopstock was born in 1724, and died in 1808.

335. Lesstna (1729-1781), a contemporary of Klopstock,
and not less influential upon Germapart and literature. He was
a dramatist of great merit; one of the best of modern fabulists ;
an acute thinker, and fine-art critic; and he taught his country-
men to love Shakspeare. I think you will thank me if I pro-
duce from a literary journal a few of his fables in a translated
form :—

‘* JUPITER AND THE HORSE.

‘« ¢ Father of animals and men; so spoke the horse, and ap-
proached the throne of Jupiter ; ‘ men say that I am one of the
most beautiful creatures with which thou hast adorned the
world, and my self-love bids me believe it. But still, might
not something more be yet granted to improve me?’ ‘ And
what thinkest thou, then, would be an improvement? Speak, I
accept thy suggestion,’ said the good god, and smiled. ‘ Per-
haps,’ continued the horse, ‘ I should be fleeter if my legs were
longer and more slender; a long, swan-like neck would not
disfigure me; a broader breast would increase my strength ;
and as thou hast destined me to carry thy favourite man, surely
I might be created with a natural saddle, instead of that which
the considerate rider puts on me.’

“* Good,’ replied Jupiter; ‘have patience a moment!’ And
with a serious countenance, Jupiter uttered the fiat of creation.
Then life flowed into the dust; organized matter was created ;
and at once there stood before the throne—the ugly camel.

* Need I say that in notes of this class I have been “helped” by papa, as

drawing-masters ‘‘help” lazy pupils when they retouch (i.e. almost wholly
re-create) their sketches?—S, 8S.
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 277

“The horse saw, shuddered, and trembled with horror and
disgust.

“¢Here are longer and more slender legs,’ said Jupiter ;
‘here is a long swan-like neck ; here is a broader breast ; here
is the natural saddle. Wilt thou, horse, that I thus transform
thee ?’

“The horse still trembled.

“Go, continued Jupiter ; ‘this time be instructed instead
of punished. But, to make thee now and then penitently
remember thy audacity, continue to live, new creature’ (Jupiter
cast a life-sustaining glance at the camel), ‘and let the horse
never look at thee without shuddering.’

“ THE MONKEY AND THE FOX.

“Mention to me any animal so clever that I cannot imitate
it!’ boasted the monkey to the fox. But the fox replied,
‘And thou mention to me any animal so insignificant that it
could ever occur to it to imitate thee!’

“ Authors of my nation—need I explain myself more clearly ?

“ THE CRICKET AND THE NIGHTINGALE.

“ my song is by no means wanting in admirers.’ ‘ Well, then,
name them to me,’ said the nightingale. ‘The laborious reapers,’
answered the cricket, ‘hear me with great pleasure ; and surely
you will not deny that these are the most useful people in
the human commonwealth?’ ‘I will not deny that,’ said the
nightingale, ‘but on that account you must not be proud of
their applause. Worthy people, whose whole thoughts are with
their work, must certainly be deficient in the finer sensibilities.
Do not, therefore, think anything of your song, till the light-

R
278 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

hearted shepherd, who himself plays very sweetly upon his flute,
listens with quiet delight.’

“ THE WARLIKE WOLF.

“My father of glorious memory,’ said a young wolf to a
fox; ‘he was a true hero! How terrible did he not make
himself in the whole neighbourhood. He has, by degrees,
triumphed over more than two hundred enemies, and sent their
black souls into the kingdom of perdition. What wonder, then,
that finally he was obliged to succumb to one!’ ‘So would a
funeral orator express himself,’ said the fox, ‘but the matter-
of-fact historian would add, the two hundred enemies over
whom he by degrees triumphed were sheep and asses ; and the
one enemy to whom he submitted was the first bull which he
ventured to attack.’ ”

336. WieLAND (1733-1813), some extracts from whose
‘Oberon’ I think I have before now read to you. His talents
are very variously estimated by modern critics. It is not dis-
puted, however, that he was an accomplished scholar, a master
of the graces of language, and a man of much poetic sensibility.
He is wanting in depth both of thought and feeling, but he is
always charming.

337. JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE, born at Frankfort-
on-the-Maine, at twelve o’clock of the noon, on the 28th of
August, 1749, was one of the completest men that ever lived.
Versatile seems hardly the word to apply to him. He was
never superficial; his vivacity was without levity; his know-
ledge was accurate as well as general ; his scientific views have
been confirmed by purely scientific men; his poem of ‘ Faust’
keeps its rank as the greatest poem of our day ; his criticism is
unquestionably the best the world ever knew; his career was
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 279

successful; he died, full of years and honours, and left behind
him an imperishable fame. Besides all this, he had none of the
sickliness which so often belongs to genius. He was very hand-
some; and though a most delicate, wailing baby, proved to be
a strong, healthy man. “Vola un homme!” said Napoleon,
after an interview with him. This was the great captain’s way
of expressing his sense of that completeness, that rotundity of
character, which strikes every student of Goethe. Was there
anything wanting, then, in this man? I fear I cannot withhold
my opinion that there was. He was too capable of self-isola-
tion for us to believe that his heart was of the highest order.
Very kind he could be; genial he was; capable of strong
attachment; above common meannesses; but the ablest exposi-
tion of what was morally great in Goethe cannot prevent my
wishing that he had been a weaker man! I cannot tell you
here the whole story of his life, nor would it be of much service
to you if I were to do so. When you are older, my Hindbad,
you will, I presume, attack German ; and if so, you will inevi-
tably come to know more of Goethe, and to have some under-
standing of his life and character. Goethe died on the 22nd of
March, 1832, after an illness of only five or six days, accom-
panied with little or no pain. Just before his departure he
requested that the window-shutters of the room might be thrown
open wider, saying, “ Light! more light!” words which have
since become memorable, passing into a sort of proverbial aspi-
ration among earnest men. He was buried side by side with
his friend Schiller and the Grand Duke of Weimar. The
friendship between Goethe and Schiller—the two greatest men
of modern Germany, and both philosophic poets—would alone
be sufficient to disprove, if disproof were needed, the shallow
falsehood that affectionate intimacy cannot subsist between two
R 2
280 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

persons of similar pursuits and likings. The thing is foolish
on the face of it; it is one of those silly paradoxes which obtain
acceptance only with the vulgar and the poor in spirit. The
true condition of friendship is predominating likeness, yet
with some difference. Schiller wrote Goethe’s epitaph during
the lifetime of his friend. Goethe, in his turn, wrote that of
Schiller.

338. FRIEDERICH CHRISTOPH VON SCHILLER was born at
Marbuch in 1759, and died at Weimar on the 9th May, 1805.
Schiller was a man of a more affectionate nature than Goethe,
and has left behind a tenderer memory. His career was more
checquered, and he died in his prime amid much physical
suffering. Originally intended for a soldier, he became, by the
mere force of the internal impulse, one of the most philosophic
of poets and historians. Some of his ballads are known by
heart all over Europe. Who does not remember the ‘ Diver,’
and the ‘Song of the Bell,’ and Fridolin, the beloved page
of the lady with the jealous lord, who commanded his men to
fling him into the furnace? The tragedy of ‘ Wallenstein,’
which, in Coleridge’s translation, is familiar to all cultivated
Englishmen, is usually considered Schiller’s masterpiece. He
was blameless in his private relations, and on all hands dearly
beloved. In pathos and moral elevation he is much superior to
Goethe, and the world will always be of that opinion, ont out of
perversity, but because i zs so /

339 is Lupwia Teck, who, in conjunction with Schlegel,
translated Shakspeare into German. And a wonderful trans-
lation it is—perhaps the very best translation ever executed—
not merely the best translation of Shakspeare, but the best trans-
lation of anybody. He is only dead within these two or three
years (not far from the time of the departure for the Silent Land
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 281

of his great contemporary Schelling), at a good old age, and
full of honours.

340 is BerrHoLtD AUERBACH, who is (I believe) yet living.
His ‘Tales of the Black Forest’ you and I have read on winter
evenings.

341 is GUTTENBERG, the inventor of printing.

342 is ImmANUEL KAnt, the great metaphysician, of whose
works I will not try to tell you anything more than that they
have stimulated metaphysical studies, and suggested more new
systems of mental science than those of any modern writer.
Kant was a very good man. His habits were singularly exact.
His tastes were in some respects fantastic. He would never
talk when abroad for fear of catching cold: he kept his mouth
closed in order that the air, passing into the lungs exclusively
through the nostrils, might get warmed en route. He had also
a great objection to perspiring. His trousers cost him much
profound reflection ; he invented, and got made for his own use,
a complicated system of braces or “suspenders,” which were
said to remind an observer of the “cycle on epicycle” of the
ante-Copernican system of the heavens. During the greater part
of his life a singularly punctual man, redigiously observant of
time, it is very remarkable that Kant in his latter days lost all
accurate sense of duration. He would order out the carriage
for a long drive, and, when he had been abroad a few minutes,
fancy hours had elapsed, and bid the postilion hurry back. He
always took coffee immediately after dinner: in order to accom-
modate the impatience which resulted from his loss of apprecia-
tion of time, three or four servants were always ready at the
proper moment to prepare his coffee—one holding the berries,
one the mill, one the hot water, and so on. Even with these
precautions, however, Kant used to get anxious and excited over

R3
282 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

the delay with his coffee. He would ring the bell three or four
times while it was in course of preparation ; and at last, rising
from the table, call out piteously through the room door to the
servants, ‘‘ Coffee, coffee!”—adding, as he resumed his seat,
“ Well, in heaven there will be no coffee to wait for—that is
one comfort!” He was very kind to his servants, and much
beloved by his friends. «He died very peacefully. Born at
Konigsberg 1724, died 1804.

343 is Prsratozzi (1745-1827). This good man’s “sys-
tems” of juvenile instruction have died away, though in dying
they have rendered up their living soul to be incorporated in the
“system” of our own age. In other words, though Pestalozzi’s
forms are no longer prized, the spirit of his plans—to lead out
the nature of the child into self-tuition in its noblest sense—has
passed into universal currency. No other idea of education is
now accepted among the wise and good. Pestalozzi was a
curious person: he was called “ Harry Whimsical of Foolstown ”
when young, and, in maturity, he did the strangest things—
always in lawsuits; boasting that he did not care for reading ;
living in a muddle; he was still a good man, and the friend
of the children. When eighty years old he would not accept an
oak-wreath offered him by a band of little ones in token of their
homage, but put it back, saying, “‘ Not to me, not tome! The
wreath belongs to Innocence!”

346 is HAHNEMANN the Homeeopathist (1755-1843).

347. OLBERS, the astronomer (1758-1840), who discovered
Pallas and Vesta. I think I have seen in some old school-books
one of these planets called Olbers? Is that correct, Hindbad ?

348 is WoLF, the great linguist. The critic who started in
his ‘ Prolegomena ad Homerum’ the question of the Homeric
unity, 7. e. whether the ‘ Iliad’ and ‘Odyssey’ (more especially
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 283

the first) are the work of one mind or many—single poems, or
agglomerations of poems. Hindbad will hardly understand this,
I am afraid ; even Amy and Hetty I cannot reconcile to looking
the question in the face—they cannot bear the idea of disbelieving
in Homer, though, for my part, I don’t believe they often read
him! Did Amy, did Hetty, ever get through the Iliad? If so,
it was in the way of that celebrated gentleman who, being
pressed to state if he had ever read ‘ Paradise Lost,’ said, “ Yes,
of course” (very indignantly); and then added, softly, to an-
other neighbour, “T’ll take very good care I never read it
again!” Now, what can J say about the Homeric controversy ?
Can Sindbad, who has never read Wolf, and has only dipped
into the controversy at second-hand, pretend to offer an opmion ?
Not he. Let him then dismiss the subject by saying that his
papa, who has looked into the controversy himself, is inclined to
disbelieve in Homer!

349 is JonANN GorTims Ficute (1762-1814), one of the
best of men and the profoundest of thinkers in Germany, at a
time when she was prolific of intellectual and moral greatness.
As to his philosophy, I do not think either you or I can feel
much improved by being told by papa that Fichte founded a
new (or ostensibly new) scheme of Idealism, in which Ontology
and Psychology were merged in one; and endeavoured to
erect the whole scheme of morals and religion upon the basis
of individual consciousness. Some day, perhaps, we shall know
more about these things. Meanwhile we can all understand
that Fichte’s influence as a metaphysician and moralist has been
great upon serious natures both in Germany and in England ;
and that he was a true hero, and, with his wife, fell a sacrifice
to his idea of patriotism in the wars of his time, into which he
volunteered, The world has not seen many nobler souls than
284 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

John Theophilus Fichte. I have read some memoirs of him,
and papa has told me to read his ‘ Way to the Blessed Life’
when I can find courage.

351 is the venerable HumBoxpr, still living (at the moment
at which I write) m cheerful health, and in the unimpaired
possession of his splendid faculties. Papa says the author of
‘Cosmos’ is one of the greatest philosophers now living ; and that,
if the mental history of some of our best young intellects were un-
rolled, we should see how grandly he has served the good cause.

353 is SCHELLING, born in 1775, and dead within these two
years. Another metaphysician, who has proved more attractive
as a writer than the Fichte whose “system” his own in part
supplemented. I am told that Coleridge has borrowed, or
rather, somewhat audaciously stolen, not only ideas and sugges-
tions, but large passages from Schelling. I quite believe it.
Coleridge was one of those men of genius in whom inspiration
seemed connected with a sort of moral insanity.

854. BerzEvius, the chemist, 1779-1848.

360. BiucHER—immortal in boots and in connection with
Waterloo, 1742-1819.

367. WitHELM von HumBoupr (1767-1835), diplomatist,
scholar, and poet. Brother to the still greater Alexander of the
_ *Cosmos,

370. RADETZKY, a colossal martinet, courteous and cruel, w th
a conscience of only one side, and that side the wrong one,

871. Luruer. 372. MELANCHTHON,

873. ScHLEIERMACHER. Ah, what do you know of him?
Schleiermacher was a liberal theologian, whose name you will
constantly meet in recent theological lore. He was a great
scholar, Biblical and classic, and translated Plato. What is
more, he was what many divines have not been—a good man,


SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND, 285

In dealing with the Modern Portrait Busts we began with
Italy, the Italian intellect being (with the exception of the
Spanish, and perhaps without even that exception) the most
remote from the English of any in Europe. We drew a little
nearer in the French gallery. We have drawn nearer still in
the German—not nearer, Hindbad mine, geographically speak-
ing, but with reference to intellectual and moral affinities And
now, having crossed the bridge, we find ourselves in

Tue Encuish PortRAIt GALLERY.

388. Inigo Jones (1572-1651). A great architect of his
time, adopting in his works the Palladian model. The Ban-
queting House at Whitehall was erected by him.

389. Str CuristopHER WREN (1632-1723). A much greater
man; not because he built St. Paul’s, but because he was a
person of large general culture, a mathematician, and a natural
philosopher. He was unsuccessful in Gothic architecture, as
the towers of Westminster Abbey bear witness.

390. Davip GARRICK, born in 1716, died 1779, was tradi-
tionally the greatest of English actors; but we should neither
know so much of him, nor would he seem, at this distance of
time, and with all that is told of his greedy and puerile vanity,
so prominent and respectable a figure in the history of his
times, if it were not that he was the friend of Johnson—

“T’m not the rose, the bramble said,
But I have lain beside it.”

To have been the penniless adventurer, who came up to town
with Aim, is a claim to our notice and regard which we cannot
overpass. Late in life, when Garrick was prosperous and rich,
and an honoured guest at courtly tables, Johnson used to
286 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

tease him by occasional references to the poverty and peril of
their common start in life. When Johnson said, perhaps, that
when he first came to London he had only sevenpence in his
pocket, poor blushing Garrick would interpose with, “Come,
Doctor, we were not so badly off as that either!” To which
Johnson would reply, “ Nay, Davy, but we were—and you, I
remember, had but fourpence.” Poor Davy! The English
drama and the English stage are both under great obligations
to Garrick. He reintroduced Shakspeare to the boards, if, in
one or two instances, he doctored him. Some of his own dra-
matic writings are not contemptible. He laboured, not without
good results, at purifying and elevating the theatre, and the
profession of an actor became respectable in his person.

391. FuseLt (1745-1825) was one of the most remarkable
painters of his day, and engravings from his works are still not
out of fashion. He had much poetry of conception and unusual
knowledge of the human form. His pictures are full of a quasi-
theatric grandeur, not unaccompanied by exaggeration. All his
figures stare and glower, and he draws a leg or an arm with
the muscles standing out as if the member were on the full
stretch of exertion.

394 is FLAXMAN, the greatest and most honoured name in
the history of English art. Flaxman was born in the city of
York in the year 1755, and poor, delicate, and crippled, worked
his way up from the shop in which his father moulded plaster-
casts, to the glorious position of our greatest sculptor—and one
of the greatest that ever lived. In almost all respects self-
taught, the delicate boy won the silver medal of the Royal
Academy at fifteen. But he was thrown upon his own resources ;
and to him was practically propounded that gordian-knot pro-
blem of what to do in the mean time—in the reckless cutting of
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 287

which so many of the (male) children of genius have perished,
self-slain. The young Flaxman was happily not one of those in
whom genius was insanity: it was in him allied to a morale the
tenderest, the sweetest, the most dutiful, the most self-sacrificing.
He determined to do his duty in the “mean time,”—to work
like a man for his own bread at such tasks within his power as
offered themselves, and to see if he could not still find time and
strength enough for the higher purposes of his vocation. He
engaged himself to the Wedgwoods, and for years superintended
the artistic part of their porcelain manufacture—to what purpose
the Messrs. Wedgwood knew, and the world knows. What
potter’s name was ever so famous before or since? As soon as
he was able Flaxman married, and, fortunately for him and for
the world, he married happily. ‘A mute and spiritless mate,
to all due converse inaccessible” (the words are Milton’s), would
have done much to take the delicate bloom from his soul and
lower the tone of his energies. *I have heard foreigners, Ger-
mans and Italians, speak in the most enthusiastic terms not
only of Flaxman and his works, but of his wife, who died in
1820. Her husband, stricken with grief, survived till 1826,
and then passed away, leaving the dearest name and the brightest
fame of any Englishman who ever touched pencil or chisel in
sight of the world.

395 is SrornarpD, the painter (1755-1834), great as an
illustrator of English works of genius. Hindbad must know his
name very well, for almost every library has some book with
engravings from his designs. His ‘Canterbury Pilgrimage,’
and ‘Procession of the Dunmow Flitch,’ are also exceedingly
familiar.

396. Srr Tuomas Lawrence (1769-1830). During his

* This notice is by papa.—s. S,
288 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

life our most popular portrait-painter. His father was an inn-
keeper at Devizes.

397. Cartes KemBie, born in 1775, and recently dead.
One of our best Shakspearian actors.

398. CHANTREY, the sculptor, 1781-1841.

399, WitL1Am MULREADY, painter.

400. JoHN Gibson, our greatest living sculptor.

401. Macrnapy, the actor. A man who has done more to
elevate popular dramatic art, and impress Shakspearian images
upon the mind of the multitude by his own impersonations, than
any actor of his time. He began his successful career by some
great “hits”? in melodrama, and was perhaps all his life most
successful in the romantic drama. In some of Shakspeare’s cha-
racters, such as Hamlet and Othello, his conception of his part
was open to much criticism. In others, as in Macbeth and
King Lear, he had not only no equal of late years, but no one
who could at all approach him. He has now been living for
some time in retirement, where he has been usefully and
honourably employed.

402. Gore CRUIKSHANK.

403. Ropert VERNON, whose pictures, bequeathed to the
nation, constitute the Vernon Gallery.

404. Fanny KemBte, actress and poetess.

406. Cuaucer, 1328-1400. The father of English poetry,
and almost of the English language. Little read by the mass
of poetry-lovers on account of the obsoleteness of his diction ;
but all attempts to modernise him, and yet to retain the charm
of his writing, have been unsuccessful. Dryden made an igno-
minious failure. Others have not succeeded.

407. SHAKSPEARE,

408. Minton.
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 289

409. ALEXANDER Pore was born in London in 1688, and died
at Twickenham in 1744. He was the successor of Dryden in
the work of polishing and perfecting English versification, and,
while he improved upon his master’s melody, degraded the
vigour of his style, though+perhaps not as much so as has
been laid to his charge. There has been, at intervals within
the last thirty or forty years, much discussion about Pope’s
merits, and very good critics have gone the length of striking
him out of the list of poets altogether; relegating him to the
catalogue of versifiers, whose pathos and sublimity are ever
rhetorical, and who never get beyond fine felicities in what they
produce. But now that the mists of wild controversy and
personal feeling have cleared away from the question, Was
Pope a poet? thinking men have begun to see what a silly
question it was. Pope has unquestionably written some of the
finest things in the language, and that the habit of his mind
was poetical is sufficiently shown by the fact that it incessantly
impelled him to adopt poetic forms, and to labour at perfecting
them. His manuscript was, to the eye of an observer, exceed-
ingly laborious ; but probably his corrections were most of them
hasty—done in the very act of composition. He used to write
on any scrap of paper that came to hand. He is the most
epigrammatic and quotable of poets. His lines and couplets
readily impress themselves upon the memory, and there is
scarcely a cause into whose service he has not been at one time
or another impressed by orator or writer or both. He is not a
poet of passion or imagination. Perhaps, in modern times, he
might have made a very great critic. That he had fine per-
ceptions is evident from his choice of a subject in the transla-
tion of Homer, which, inadequately and often falsely as it

reproduces the original, is, beyond question, a great work, and
s
290 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

contains passages which will never cease to charm. Pope, as
far as Greek was concerned, was almost wholly self-taught. He
left school at twelve years old, but his father (a linendraper
and a Romanist) encouraged him in his early efforts, and the
mortification he felt at his smallness and bent frame spurred him
on to seek and win distinction in spheres where “the mind’s the
measure of the man.” The ‘Essay on Man,’ the ‘Rape of
the Lock,’ and the ‘Dunciad’ are not much resorted to by
the general reader now-a-days, but scholars and men of letters
cherish them not only for their intrinsic merits, but because they
supply links in literary history which cannot be spared in tracing
the development of the national mind and character. Pope was
a Roman Catholic, and in the lines we all remember—
« Where London’s column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully lifts the head and lies ”—

refers angrily to the inscription formerly to be seen upon the
Monument, in which the fire of London was attributed to the
Catholics. The character of Pope was not noble. He partook
of the meanness, and falseness, and somewhat, alas! of the
uncleauiliness of soul, which characterised his times. The line—

“ Karless on high stood unabash’d Defoe,”—

is an everlasting disgrace to him ; a line we would all willingly
blot from our memories, if we could. Defoe was a hero, and in
reach and breadth of faculty, asin morale, greatly Pope’s superior,
and his being pilloried was a thing to be hidden for shame,—
shame not for Defoe’s sake, but for the sake of the “ powers
that were.” Nor, say the worst of Lady Montagu, can Pope
be forgiven for his false, rancorous, dastardly behaviour to her
after she offended him.

410. GotpsmrrH, the best gift of the “Emerald Isle” to her
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 291

sister. Goldsmith was born at Pallas, in Ireland, in 1728. He
died poor (could an Irish man of letters ever be rich?), in
London, in 1774. The author of the ‘Vicar of Wakefield’
has been growing in the good graces of all lovers of truth and
nature since the day when Johnson went to him and saved
him from the bailiffs by taking his ‘Vicar of Wakefield’ and
selling it for forty pounds. The ‘ Vicar of Wakefield ’ is one
of the best books in the English language ; and one of the best
things to be wished for in Hindbad is, that he may rapidly grow
into the capacity to appreciate all its wit, wisdom, and tender-
ness; and then, that he may never lose it! To read such a
book is like bathing the world-defiled heart in a fresh fountain
of natural feeling. He who does not relish at all, or who has
lost part of the relish he once had, for the ‘ Vicar of Wakefield,’
should make up his soul’s accounts, and see what is wrong in his
moral balance-sheet. For all that, there is a want in this
sweetest of domestic stories, as there was a want in Goldsmith’s
nature. Goldsmith was good from impulse, and not from prin-
ciple. He had no abiding consciousness of law divine in him ;
his books betray no sense of such a thing. It is the common
defect of the literary character, as such, which depends for its
force upon an aboriginally strong emotional nature. Goldsmith
was a very vain man, but not offensively so—his was the vanity
of a little child; he was fond of being looked after, and of gay
clothes! His “improvidence” must not be harshly judged:
some men, the majority, are improvident through a spirit of selfish
indulgence — not so ‘poor Poll;” he had really, by nature,
the vaguest possible ideas of figures, and of getting and keep-
ing. His conversation was much ridiculed, and he was the
good-humoured butt of the good-humoured satire of his literary
friends while he lived; but we cannot place much dependence
8 2
292 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

upon the reports of his conversational foolishness which have
come down to us. Johnson—a great man, but far the inferior
of Goldsmith in the hierarchy of genius—was the great-gun of
the talkers in those times ; and he carried all before him, though
a very little scrutiny of his reported speeches would convict him
of quite as much nonsense as need be laid to any man’s account
in a lifetime. It is quite probable that Goldsmith, being vain,
bashful, and destitute of tact, would often commit himself, and
look very silly ; but it is not only improbable, it is incredible,
that he should not often have shown much of his better self.
Goldsmith’s humorous poetry is that which most strongly im-
presses the modern taste: his ‘ Deserted Village’ and ‘Tra-
velier’ are little read by that “middle class” which now con-
stitute fhe bulk of the English reading public.

410. Ropert Burns (1759-1796). The character of this
born singer—one of the most remarkable men of modern times,
and a man who has even yet not found his true place in the
history of literature—was so far like that of Goldsmith, that
there was in it a similar unconsciousness of law—a want of
“principle,” strictly so called. In Burns, however, there was
an excess of what poor Goldy wholly lacked—pride; and that
to some extent simulated, as it so commonly does, the action of
conscience. Burns, however, was wanting in true dignity of
character : it is customary to cant about his “independence ;”
but it was as often offensive as the reverse; and it was not
founded on an elevated moral estimate of life so much as upon
self-esteem—what is known as “manly pride,” and which in its
place is good. Burns was, as to his circumstances, one of the
most unfortunate of the children of genius. His “ patrons,”
after he had been dug out of obscurity, and duly flattered and
lionised, made him an excise officer at 702. a-year—a situation
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 293

full of temptation and of disgustfulness for a man like Burns.
The thing seems almost incredible as we write it down! Burns
died at thirty-seven, burnt-out, worn-out, disgusted-out of his
existence. It is a miserable story! Even with all his disad-
vantages, a little less self-esteem, or a little more self-control,
might have saved him. One would give a limb to have no
tears but those of pity to drop over a name so glorious as
his. Burns played an important part in the history of our litera-
ture. Along with Cowper, he was greatly instrumental in bring-
ing in that return to truth and nature in poetry which Words-
worth, Coleridge, and others carried forward more decisively.
411. SamurL Rogers was born in 1762, and is only
recently dead. He lived over ninety years. He was a link
between the literary present and the literary past, both in his
person and in his writings. He knew Johnson, Reynolds, and
Crabbe, and saw Garrick. His ‘Pleasures of Memory’ and
‘Italy’ are poems upon a model which will never again be
adopted by English poets—a model which unites something of
the conventionality and cold finish of the Pope school with
something of the naturalness and simplicity of the new school.
Mr. Rogers was a banker, very wealthy, and not unkind to
poorer men who sought his aid. He was essentially a man of
taste, and may be said to have lived in a “ Palace of Art” all
his life. But not alone—his house was always the resort of the
literary and artistic celebrities of the day; and the ‘Table-
Talk of Samuel Rogers,’ recently published, is one of the
pleasantest of books. Perhaps Mr. Rogers cannot be called a
benevolent man. Is there great kindness in this bust? .
In his intercourse with others he very frequently dealt in those
brusqueries which, if inspired by strong sense, have all the effect
of wit; but he was neither a witty nor a humorous man.
294 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cup. XL

412. Witttam Worpswortu (1770-1850). The greatest
English poet of modern times ; it is hard to say where his place
is, if not next to Milton. His life was devoid of incident; and
he was a man after a somewhat cold, though pure and correct,
model. He was an egotist; part of the power of his poetry
comes of his egotism. His one passion was for Nature; his
great gift for making Nature speak intelligibly to all men
through himself. What a bed of daffodils or a mountain-peak
said to Wordsworth, Wordsworth could translate for you and
me into poetic forms. He was a most influential writer. He
has poured floods of light upon the inner life of us all, and
visibly shared in moulding our philosophies, as well as in re-
calling our poetry to life in its humbler forms.) When he began
to aspire to reforming the popular taste in poetry, he wrote some
foolish and extravagant things, for which he was deservedly
ridiculed ; but his mistakes are now forgotten in the common
veneration of all good critical intellects.

413. Sm Water Scort (1771-1832). God gives to large
numbers of minds a special gift for story-telling ; it is one
of his richest bounties to man ; it is not more frequently abused
than any other gift. Sir Walter Scott was perhaps the greatest
story-teller that ever lived, both in prose and verse. What he
did for literature is matter of world history rather than of bio-
graphy. In private he was one of the most modest and sterling
of creatures. His novels brought him untold sums of money,
which he lost by becoming entangled in bill transactions with
his publishers. Perhaps it must be said that, if he had had a
very quick conscience, he would not have become so entangled
—it has been said. But we cannot judge: at all events Sir
Walter’s conscience was as quick as that of three-fourths of our
mercantile men; and he struggled to redeem himself, and repay
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 295

his creditors (with incredible success), until his brain snapped
under the effort. We are ail under enormous obligations to
Sir Walter Scott for opening up new fields of delight, and
creating new tastes, in which both authors and readers now find
their account.

414, Robert SouTHEY was born at Bristol in 1774, and died
at Keswick in 1843. He was the friend of Wordsworth, Cole-
ridge, Lamb, &c., and had more manly nobleness of character
than any other of the clan, except the sweet-souled Lamb.
Southey was a man of true independence, and was one of the
honestest and most laborious of men of letters—one of those
who have made writing for bread respectable. His poetry is
heavy ; but it will always command readers among cultivated
people. His prose is of the very best. Southey’s private cha-
racter was spotless. Perhaps his whole nature may be gathered
from ‘The Doctor’ better than from any other of his writings.
His own intellect and that of Mrs. Southey gave way towards
the close of life.

415. THomAs CAMPBELL was born at Glasgow, on the 26th
of July, 1777. His father was a retired merchant and had nine
children besides Tom. The early promise of Thomas’s school
and college career was very bright ; and at twenty-one he pro-
duced the ‘ Pleasures of Hope:’ of his other poems,—few in
number, and published at wide intervals, —‘ Gertrude of Wyoming,’
and the Ballads, are the best. The ballads are not surpassed in
the language. Campbell was the most finished and rhythmical
of poets, but he sacrificed too much of thought and passion to
finish in the details of his art. Hindbad will like to see some of
his very early productions. Here is one written at ten years

of age :—
296 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

“ Now farewell my books and also my Versions
I hope now I will have some time for diversions
The labour and pains you have cost me’s not small
But now by good luck I’ve got free of you all,
When the pen was not good I blotted the paper
And then my Father cried Tom what’s the matter ?
Consider but once what items you need
My purse it must suffer or you must take heed
So adieu to rebukes and also to Versions
I hope I’ll now have some time for diversions.”

And here is another, written at about the same age :—

“In Caledonia lives a youth
' Of genius and of fame
Whose company yields me delight
Will Irvine is his name,

A chattering parrot he possess’d
Whose each diverting jest

For weary lessons cheered him up
And soothed his anxious breast.

Poll’s chattering lays and curious jokes
And rhymes well got by rote

Were sweeter far to him than lark’s
Or Philomela’s note.

When from the Grammar school he came
With Poll he oft made sport ;

The parrot mimicked all he said—
With fun the nights seemed short.

Short were they then but now they’re long
Poll’s dead he’s left to mourn

And weep without a comforter
That Poll can ne’er return.

For Poll was but an hourly joy
A gift soon to decay

Emblem of all our earthly bliss
That only lasts a day.
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND, “297

Once in December’s gloomy month
This same youth did sit down
With aching heart for to relate
Of Death’s dart lately thrown.

That dart which thrown at poor Poll’s heart
Caused him to weep and cry
‘ Oh may that day of the year be dark
On which my Poll did die.

¢ But let me moralise,’ he said
‘ Death overtakes us all
The haughtiest tyrant ever lived
Did by his arrows fall.

‘None can escape his powerful arm
Or shun the fatal blow
Thus powerful kings as well as Poll
His victims are laid low.”

Campbell was not a great producer: he has written but little
compared with what the world thought itself justified in expect-
ing from his pen. But in early life he had had to work very
hard at teaching, &c., to support himself, and so spent much of
the original energy of a nature always rather delicate than
vigorous. He was one of those (and they were many) who were
indebted (if such a word obtains in the intercourse of men of
letters) to Walter Scott for introductions and counsel, early in
his career, after the ‘ Pleasures of Hope’ had made him known.
He was a very genial man; when young very handsome ; and
always very vain. In the latter part of his life he wasted time
in unsuccessful biographies; and employed himself in urging
forward the “ causes” of Poland and Greece, and the establish-
ment of the London University. He died at Boulogne on the
15th of June, 1844, and is buried near Addison in Westminster
Abbey. Some pleasant years of his life were spent at Sydenham.

416. Tuomas Moore (1780-1852) was the gayest and

s 3
298 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

pleasantest of the modern lyrists of sentiment. He was a man
of society, musical, cheerful, fond of praise, and ready to give it,
not quite free from flunkyism. His long prose poem of ‘ Lalla
Rookh’ contains poetry enough to keep it alive for some gene-
rations yet. His lyrics will always hold their own with a certain

-class of readers ; but Moore seldom took hold of the nobler part
of our nature, and something of the drawing-room seems
always to cling to his verses. He died in 1852, after a life of
enjoyment such as befalls few poets.

417. Joun Witson, the Christopher North of the ‘ Noctes
Ambrosiane’ (1785-1854), has left upon the literature of his
day the broad mark of a fresh, genial, highly imaginative nature ;
but has scarcely fulfilled (one is tempted to say) the whole promise
of his best things in prose, as he has certainly sunk below his
own apparent level in his poetry. He wanted purpose and con-
centration. But he was one of the most eloquent and cultivated
men of his time, and, while he lived, a power and a glory among
his contemporaries. He was a great wrestler and rower, and,
generally, a fine, manly fellow. He was Professor of Moral
Philosophy at Edinburgh ; but as a thinker Wilson lacked both
depth and subtlety. He was very tall, and his whole appearance
and bearing corresponded with the face and head before you.

418. Lorp Byron (1788-1824). The story of Byron’s life is
well known. He is very unequal as a poet, and rather indifferent
as to incurring obligations to others. He is the poet of fine
fragments. Perhaps his poetry has never done a tithe of the
harm which has been laid at its door. Byron’s play of intellect
and feeling always excites the liveliest rapture in a young mind ;
but papa does not think he ever exercised much influence upon
the hearts and morals of his readers. In truth, Byron lacks the
one qualification for influence, true earnestness. With all his
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 299

fire and force he was not a sincere man. Portions of his life in
Italy were marked, papa says, by the foulest degradation ; there
were times when the splendid Byron sank as low as it is possible
for man to sink in his habits and associations. Without his
ideality, he would have been an irredeemable beast. In the
man’s moral character there was little that was capable of saving
any one from the lowest temptation. Byron is well painted (with
the suppression of the very worst traits) in Disraeli’s ‘ Venetia.’
He was greatly indebted, both as a poet and a man, to the good
influence of Shelley.

419. DouaLAs JERROLD—born in 1803, in early life a sailor-
boy, in adolescence a struggler with hard fate when times were
hard—is a self-made man. He is unquestionably the first wit of
his day. His conversation is something wonderful in its fluency,
brightness, and meaningful point. In spite of the rough surface
his writings sometimes offer to the critical touch, Mr. Jerrold is
a genial, sound-hearted man. Some of his prose is full of rich
poetic feeling. He is not the most inventive of story-tellers, but
when he has constructed a story it is always well told. He will
live chiefly as a dramatist, and as the wit of his day.

420. Lorp Bacon (1561-1626). A man whose precise rela-
tion to the history of philosophy is still unsettled among the
most thoughtful minds. His rank is unquestioned. He must
be placed by the side of Shakspeare. It is not every critic who
can appreciate the poetic splendour of Bacon’s prose, or his
wonderful fulness and suggestiveness of thought. There are
" always discoveries to be made in his work ; he will always be
the subject of controversies among men of letters; he will never
be placed anywhere else than in the very foremost ranks of the
not too large class of poet-philosophers.

422. JoHN Locke (1682-1704). One of our foremost
300 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

thinkers, and one of our best men. He contributed largely to
the progress of liberal opinion in England. His style is as plain
as Bacon’s is ornate. He may almost be called the Father of
Metaphysics and the Father of sound Scriptural criticisin: in
England. He lived a stainless and devoted life. In theology he
was a Unitarian.

423. The same remark applies to the theological opinions of
Sir Issac Newton (1642-1727). Morally Newton cannot be
held up as an example for imitation. To be free from vice is
not to be good, and the calmness of a mathematician is not the
“ crowning grace” of humility. Newton was mean to Flamsteed,
and engaged in an ignoble quarrel with Leibnitz, who was
scarcely a less man than himself.

424, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN (1706-1790). One of the most
efficient men of his own or any other day. An example for
the young of prudence, studiousness, self-denial, perseverance,
honesty, overcoming all obstacles, and bringing splendid success
in their train, but not an instance of the purest heroism. Franklin
was capable of mean things, and did not disdain “ politic”
measures. Sometimes they were justifiable; as when he did the
opponents of a just war by passing a clause for admitting
gunpowder under the head of “corn and other grain!”
Franklin, however, often showed gleams of a capacity for a
nobler height of goodness than he actually reached to, and
perhaps if he had been less prosperous he might have been a
greater man.

425 is SamueL Jounson (1709-1784), another instance of
the triumph of goodness and virtue over difficulties. Johnson
was the first man who made the profession of letters truly
honourable in England. He would not sell his soul or dangle
at the heels of the great; he shamed both place-hunting and
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 301

pension-hunting. Though one of the roughest, he was also one
of the kindest of men. Some of his personal peculiarities have
doubtless been much exaggerated; but he was large, pock-
marked, short-sighted, fond of tea, and a great eater. Your
modern literary coxcomb thinks it clever to speak lightly of
such poetry as the good Doctor’s ‘ Vanity of Human Wishes,’
but it is a very good poem for all that.

426 is ADAM Smitu, who bears the same relation to Political
Economy as Locke does to Metaphysics. His ‘Wealth of
Nations’ almost created the science. Adam Smith was very
fond of lump sugar, and visitors have seen him watching his
chance of smuggling a bit out of the sugar-basin without being
seen by his housekeeper, of whom he stood in great awe. So
great and so little! A revolutioniser of thought, and afraid of
an old woman! Adam Smith was born in 1723, and died in
1790, after a tolerably easy life spent throughout in good circum-
stances.

427 is Jonn Hunrer, born in 1728, died in 1793. Sera
nunquam est ad bonos mores via! Translate that, my Hindbad,
and then vary it by saying it is never too late for real genius to
strike out its own path. Hunter was a letterless carpenter up
to carly manhood, and yet, when the right spark fell and ignited
his “ flame-earnest ” faculty, he went his way to the dissecting-
room, and became the greatest surgeon and anatomist of his
day. Hunter was a man of generous but warm temper, and
dicd of a spasm of the heart, of which he had had a presentiment.

428 is James Watr (1736-1819), one of the greatest of
mechanists and natural philosophers, as Hindbad knows; a
man whose “ deeds,” though “writ in (hot) water,” will serve
the needs of generations to come, and keep his memory fresh
for millions of grateful men and women whom his improvements
302 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

in the steam-engine and other departments of mechanical in-
vention have benefited. Watt was a very kind, unassuming
man, and very versatile in his general culture. He was not at
all musical, and yet he built an organ, and nearly solved the
problem of musical “temperament.”

430 is FRANCIS JEFFREY, the critic. 483. GrorGE STEPHEN-
son, the engineer, another of our wonderful self-raised men.
435 is our great living astronomer Str JoHN HerscueEt.

436 is MicaEL F'arapay, the greatest natural philosopher of
his day ; especially great in connection with Magnetism, Light,
and Electricity. Another of our self-raised men! In religion Mr.
Faraday is, I hear, a Sandemanian—the name of a sect of whom
there are, probably, not fifty in all the world.

436* is Mary SOMERVILLE.

437, The accomplished Dr. WILLIAM WHEWELL.

438. Sir H. T. Dn ta Becus, the geologist.

439. THoMAs CARLYLE, the most influential thinker and most
powerful writer of our day. Hindbad may never be a great
reader, but one of the books we should not wish him to miss
would fe Mr. Carlyle’s ‘Sartor Resartus” Mr. Carlyle is a
prose poet. His philosophical and historical works are alive
with poetry. Every sentence is a picture or an inspiration.
Mr. Carlyle’s theory of societarian well-being amounts to nothing,
but the preparatory social criticism is nothing less than pro-
phetic. His insight into the individual soul is wonderful ; Words-
worth is the only modern writer who can compare with him in
that particular. Mr. Carlyle’s theology is that of Pantheism,
or quasi-pantheism (belief in an impersonal Spirit, or Life in
the universe) ; his supreme faith in all strong spontaneous action
is the natural corollary of his theology. Does Hindbad quite
comprehend these last sentences ?
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 303

441. RicHARD OWEN is another self-made man, and another
son of the sea. The midshipman becomes the greatest compa-
rative anatomist that ever lived in England. Owen is one of
those men whom all the world delight to honour ; and long may
he live to stretch that delight to its uttermost! He is now
about sixty years old. As a naturalist he ranks with Cuvier,
and is one of the few men of science whose name and fame are
familiar all over civilised society.

442. BENJAMIN DISRAELI was born in 1805, and, at this
present writing, is head of the Conservative, “ Country,” or Tory
party inthe House of Commons. His first-published work of any
consequence, if not the very first, was the novel of ‘ Vivian Grey,’
which is a kind of modern ‘ Gil Blas,’ with a dash of the ‘Don
Juan’ init. In all his writings, as in all his conduct—as far as
his conduct is a public topic—Mr. Disraeli manifests an Orien-
tal insensibility to what we usually imply when we use the
word “ Conscience.” That he is a law unto himself is plain,
for his conduct has an indisputable consistency of its own; and
he is not wanting in the feeling of reverence. He is rather a
political critic than a politician, and has never originated any
statesmanlike movement. As a man of letters, his gift is that
of a cleverness which so nearly approaches genius that it often
takes a keen eye to be sure that the gem he manufactures is
not real. His political novels have not only done great damage
to Whiggery, but have largely influenced the political thought
of young minds in England. Mr. Disraeli is a born story-
teller: he is not one of those novelists who fill their pages with
character, sentiment, poetry, everything but story ; he tells a tale
that is worth telling, that really interests you, and that would
have a merit of its own if it were told by a writer without a
spark of genius. He is singularly versatile in his powers. His
304 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

humour is very good; so is his dialogue. ‘Ixion in Heaven’
and ‘The Infernal Marriage’ are specimens. He has written
a tragedy called ‘Count Alarcos,’ but it is not a success: his
pathos is artificial, and he writes poor blank verse. ‘ Popanilla’
is a very clever political allegory of his, which is now almost
forgotten; but it deserves to be remembered, not only for its
merits, but because, written in its author’s youth, it contains the
germs of so many of the ideas which he has since developed in
his greater works and in his political career. One of the best
things in its way ever done by Mr. Disraeli is his ‘ Henrietta
Temple,’ which is a modern love-story of the May-Fair school,
but redeemed from bathos and triviality by its author’s unques-
tionable power. In ‘ Venetia,’ the two leading male characters
are Lord Byron and Shelley; but the portrait of Shelley is
hardly a success. It is no great reproach to say so, for the
character was extraordinarily difficult to seize, and indefinitely
more so to put upon paper. Lord Byron is exceedingly well
done. It is plain that Mr. Disraeli understands that perverse
and unhappy man immeasurably better than the thousand and
one Critics who have mouthed about him.

443 is WiLi1aM Daraan, the great Irish Railway King, who
founded the Dublin Exhibition.

444, Mr. SAMUEL WARREN, well known as the author of
‘The Diary of a late Physician,’ ‘Ten Thousand a Year,’ &c.
He is Recorder of Hull, and has lately entered parliament—a
man in whom constructive talent seems to tread close upon the
heels of genius. Singularly enough, Mr. Warren’s sty/e is often
very poor, and reminds you of Alison.

446. Jupae HaureurTon is the author of ‘Sam Slick,’ and
is the first of American humourists. We need not surely tell
our Ilindbad, or any one else, that ‘Sam Slick’ is a kind of
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND. 305

American or rather Yankee Sam Weller, with, however, more
philosophy and less vulgarity, though equal freedom, and a far
superior range of “slang.” Judge Haliburton is a judge in
Nova Scotia, and has been much in England in connection with
the embassies of America. He is much liked ; and though the
popularity of ‘Sam Slick’ has of late years a little declined, it
will be many generations before it is forgotten on either side of
the Atlantic.

447. Epwarp Forsrs, who has died since the Palace of
Wonderland was built, followed to his grave by the infinite
regrets of all who knew him. One of the most accomplished
and versatile of our men of science, singularly free from pedan-
try, and gifted with the happiest powers of illustration, a bright
career seemed to lie open before Professor Forbes, when he was
taken from us. He was Professor of Natural History at Edin-
burgh at the time of his death.

450 is EpMuND Burke (1730-1797). One more great Irish-
man to add to the list of precious contributions in the world of
mind from the sister island. Burke has not written much;
neither when living did he effect much that could be recorded ;
but he was one of the finest masters of style. Altogether, his
intellect was of a noble order, and he was, beyond question, the
most philosophic of our statesmen. Goldsmith sums up his
strength and his weakness in that wonderful poem of ‘ Reta-
liation.’

451. GEorGE WASHINGTON, the greatest of Americans, their
first President, the founder of their independence, and a hero
whose purity and steadiness of purpose can never be surpassed.
When he was a boy he was remarkable for his love of truth-
fulness. ‘ George,” said his father sternly to him one day,
when he had been using a hatchet too freely in the garden,—
806 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD,

“ George, have you been hacking that cherry-tree ?””—‘ Papa,”
said George, ‘“ you know I cannot tell a lie!”—Washington
was not aman of brilliant abilities; perhaps his mind was of
about the same calibre as that of our Wellington, whom, how-
ever, he infinitely surpassed in true greatness of soul. One
ought almost to apologise for naming the two men in a breath.
Washington was born in 1732, and died in 1799. How foolish
it seems to us, now, when we look back with shame upon King
George’s obstinacy, and praise the good Washington as heartily
as any Yankee, that the national hymn should ever have con-
tained such a couplet as
“Oh, may America
Bend to our monarch’s sway!”

451*, Warren Hastinas, whose name is historical: the hero
of one of the greatest trials that ever took place in England
(1732-1818).

452. CHARLES JAMES Fox (1748-1806), the idol of the poli-
tical liberalism of his day, and a man generally beloved.
Versatile, brilliant, truly eloquent, of large views, serving his
country well in parliament, Fox was not as active and useful a
man as his talents should have made him. He was a sad plea-
sure-lover and gamester.

455. Horatio NELson.

456, Wi1Am Prrr.

459. Tue DUKE.

463. Lorp Lynpuurst, one of the ornaments not only of the
legal profession, but of the House of Peers, to which it led him.
Lord Lyndhurst was one of our best Chancellors; at ninety
years of age, almost blind, he is one of our best statesmen.
Nominally Conservative (once hated as a “ Tory’), he is a man
of wise and liberal views. His father was Copley the painter.
SINDBAD’S GUIDE TO WONDERLAND, 307

465. Dante O’CONNELL—a man whose character was finely
summed up by Sydney Smith, who said, “ The best thing to do
with O’Connell would be to erect him a statue, and hang him by
the side of it.”

466. Josera Hume.

467. Lorp Brovenam. Both, again, wonderful old men.
Hume, the veteran reformer, invincible in his energies, till the
common conqueror laid him low quite recently ; Brougham, still
living, and, at eighty years of age, an active law-improver.
Both these men have served their country well. Hume made
Radicalism and Retrenchment words that meant something,
saved us millions of money, and bequeathed to his successors an
example and a stimulus to exertion. Brougham did more than
any man of his time to fulfil his own prophetic phrase—* The
Schoolmaster is abroad !”

471. LorD PALMERSTON.

472. Sir Ropert PEEL.

474. Lorp JoHN RussExt.

477. Tie EARL oF Drrsy.

481, CarpinaAL Wo sry (1471-1530)

483. FATHER MATHEW.

484, CARDINAL WISEMAN.



Needs it that Sindbad should point out to Hindbad “ the
Sovereign whose image is on the half-crown” he has in his
pocket? Or that of her husband? He hopes not. He believes
nut. He feels sure not!

Nor need Sindbad point out to Hindbad, in closing this little
Gift, that, like other gifts, it may be abused ; that to consider it
at all exhaustive on the matters of which it treats were an error
unpardonable even in one so young as Hindbad ; that it is in-
308 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD.

tended only to give his faculties a fillip in the direction in which
the coat and collar are firmly believed to lie, and not to take
the place of what others may have to tell who are greater tra-
vellers than his faithful Sindbad“in, the Crystal Realm of Won-
derland !
WL’ Enbdoi.
Amy. Belovéd Bob! this modest Gift is plann’d
To guide your little feet through Wonderland.
Herry. Read it, my Bob! the next time she goes thither
Amy, I think, will want you to go with her.
Born. And, oh, how charming it will be if Bob
With Freddy’s lore prepares his darling nob!
Bella will want to go, and so she may,
The Roe will take us all the quickest way ;
Bob will explain, and she will understand,
With such a guide to show her Wonderland,
Cuar, XI. TELESCOPIC, HOMILETIC, AND VALEDIOTORY. 309

CHAPTER XI.
TELESCOPIC, HOMILETIC, AND VALEDICTORY.

Ir is worth while to look at Jupiter’s belts for a penny, in St.
Paul’s Churchyard or Leicester Square, where a man stands
with a public instrument during clear weather. But, after all,
what are Jupiter’s belts to you and me, when you come to think
of it? Let us look through a telescope which will tell us some-
thing of two humanecreatures, or, if possible, more than two, in
whom we are already interested. Now then, are you ready?
I am going to act as the man that shows Jupiter, belts, satellites,
and all :—

There, ladies and gentlemen, addressing a Committee of
the House of Commons on the subject of a new Railway Bill, is
our old friend Fred, in a horsehair wig which does the perru-
quier credit, though it increases the difficulty which years have
created in recognising the respected wearer. Not far off is a
gentleman some years younger, in a surtout and stand-up collar,
who is the Consulting Engineer of the company projecting the
railway, and in him you will, without very much difficulty,
recognise another old friend, by name Bob. Both gentlemen
looking as well as could be expected—or desired.

** Ah, now I can’t see anything, Mr. Telescope-man!”

No, my dear; because I have shifted the direction of the
instrument. Now look again!

* O, I see some ladies in a room, talking very gaily.”

Stedfastly regarding whom you will at last perceive the
familiar features of Hetty, Amy, and Bella, who happen to
310 THE SYDENHAM SINDBAD. Cuap. XI,

have met to-day for the purpose of taking together a trip to
Wonderland. One of the ladies produces from a recess an
object inscribed in plain letters, ‘ StvpBAD’s Girr To HinpBaD;’
and then they all laugh. And, my telescope enabling you to
hear as well as see, listen to what Amy is saying :—‘“‘ Do you re-
member, Bella, how excited Hindbad was the first time-he went
out with you in that surtout of his?” “ O,” says that lady, “ what.
fun it was to see his incessant efforts to prevent himself from
looking in at plate-glass windows as we went along the street!”
“ And now,” began Hetty—

“ O, you’ve shifted the telescope again.”

T have so, You have heard enough. Your old friends are
well and happy. Hindbad, and Sindbad, and Amy, and Bella,
and Hetty, are still useful and kind to ¢ other; and the
precise details are not Important. When you know as much as
Sindbad, you will have a telescope of your own and will not
need a guide to Wonderland. In the mean time, accept his
(printed with his sanction, and annotated by him), as Hindbad
did, and always remember that, as the Voice told Sebald—

«The sacred wings
° Were never given
For sordid things.”

It is too much the fashion, in addressing young people like
you, to talk as if they were; as if the “ chief end of man” were
respectability, and success, and position in life; and as if good
behaviour always brought them in its train. But why deceive
you any longer, dear children? Are you not already too old
for this mercenary juggle with your inmost souls? “If you are
girls, I am sure you are; if boys, I hope you are. Therefore
I have not in futuro made Fred Lord Chancellor, or even Lord
Mayor; or Bob President of the Board of Trade. Happy
Cuar. XI. TELESCOPIC, HOMILETIC, AND VALEDICTORY. 311

they both will be, as my telescope has told you; but they will
have troubles, as you will have yours; their disappointments,
their heartaches, their mortifications and losses. And, inhuman
as you may think me, I hope that neither they nor you—no, nor
the dear little ladies, though it 7s hard to think of a crook in
their lot—will be spared one stroke of ill-fortune which is caleu-
lated to do you good. See, then! I want you to get knowledge,
which is power; and I wish it may bring you plenty, honour,
and “ troops of friends :” but, far more than all, I wish you to
turn out good men and women—more ready to give than to
get, to suffer than to strike, to look skywards than three-per-
centwards. And, having registered that supreme desire in
your behalf in presence of All the World and his Wife (which
respected couple were present when you and I opened pro-
ceedings), I bid you good bye.

THE END.

LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET, AND CHARING CROSS.





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