« AnteriorContinuar »
finds that refreshing and abundant streams gush forth.' To-day Sir William also is among the prophets, and takes up the burden of London : There was a time when the metropolis was a fertile Liberal soil. By the accident of Nature (cheers) it has become covered with thorns and briers; but that is no reason why with intelligence and energy it should not be restored to its pristine fertility' Of all the ornaments of style, as Aristotle long ago pointed out, metaphor is by far the most valuable, being the product of original genius, and so having a creative influence.
21st.— There was some interesting evidence given yesterday before the Select Committee on Money Lending. One question and answer were vastly entertaining :
Chairman : Who is the money-lender ?
Brutus, it seems, will not start a spirit as soon as Cæsar. From the advertisement-sheet I cull Bull-dog for sale; will eat anything ; very fond of children.'
22nd. I broke a pane of glass this morning in the library. Whenever a queen-wasp sails into the room, I shut the window, and when she returns from her circumnavigation of the apartment I flick her on the pane with the newspaper. But it is Saturday, and I had not allowed enough for the weight of the —
The terms of peace between Greece and Turkey are not likely to be arranged without some higgling. That is, of course, the fashion of the Orient. We have heard a good deal of late from Phil-hellenes about early Greek history; it is a pity that they pay so little attention to early Greek political philosophy. Here is a sentence from Thucydides about the war with Sparta. After speaking of the usual fickleness of the multitude,' he says:
Pericles had told the Athenians that if they would be patient and would attend to their navy, and not seek to enlarge their dominion, they would be victorious; but they did all that he told them not to do, and from motives of private ambition and private interest they adopted a policy which had disastrous effects. The reason of the difference was that he, being a man of transparent integrity, was able to control the multitude in a free spirit; he led them, rather than was led by them; for, not seeking power by
dishonest arts, he had no need to say pleasant things, but in the s strength of his own high character could venture to oppose and
even to anger them. But his successors were more on an equality with one another, and, each one struggling to be first himself, they were ready to sacrifice the whole conduct of affairs to the whims of the people' (ii. 65). But indeed, as Thucydides remarks in another place, 'The follies of mob-rule are universally admitted, and there is nothing new to be said about them.'
25th.—The ladies have been badly beaten at Cambridge, the unchivalrous undergraduates have made bonfires in honour of the event,' and the question of feminine bachelors may now go to sleep
A private letter describing the scene at Cambridge has been sent to the Manchester Guardian, and is worth preserving:
May 24, 1897. • MY DEAR ----,-You missed the most wonderful scene ever known by not coming to Cambridge on Friday. . . . About 2,000 country voters turned up. Feeling was very strong among the dons, and, I'm told, has been very bitter and personal, as is usual when women are concerned. The undergrads were raging, and practically unanimous; they have never been so roused within living memory. The degree-day “rag” in your day and the football-blue question in mine were nothing in comparison. What would have happened if the Grace had been carried I don't like to think; it would have meant a most serious riot; but they saw from the start of the voting how things were going, and kept good-tempered. Moreover, the proctors and police were wise, so no real harm was done. The demonstration was organised by a committee of “ Blues;" and, so far as they were concerned, was in perfectly good taste. One or two very small things were done, by a small set, which one wished different; but when 3,000 youngsters were provoked beyond endurance that isn't wonderful. Girton and Newnham were "gated” at eight on Friday morning, which was wise. The midday train from town brought down bishops, peers, M.P.'s, and all kinds of M.A.'s in hundreds. They were met at the station by undergrads with “Non placet, sir? A carriage is ready for you. Allow me to carry your bag,” &c. One bishop was nearly torn in pieces by four different men wanting to drive him up; and finally was shoved on to the box with the information that “there's no room inside.” He enjoyed it hugely. We stood in Senate House yard, and formed a queue into the building, where, “placets” to left and “non placets" to the right, we gave up our tickets, every wretched" placet” being howled at. The K.P. [King's Parade] and Market Place were one howling mob, who had to work off their feelings by pelting us with confetti and fireworks. No one minded. One ass began to throw eggs, but the other men stopped that sharp. Caius and Trinity Street were adorned with mottos and effigies, including some rather neat Shakespeare quotations and “Cambridge expects every M.A. to do his duty.” . . . When the result was announced came such cheering as I never can hope to hear again; and we filed out down a lane of cheering men, being patted on the back and bowing like royalty.
. . In the evening there was a huge bonfire in the Market Place, fed with all the hoardings in the town, and fireworks ad lib. It was all perfectly orderly, and the bonfire was surrounded by the top hats and grey beards of old M.A.'s. The proctors wisely did not show till nearly twelve-just to get the men to bed. A few windows got smashed, because the men in them poured water on the crowd, and got bombarded with rockets in return. I was with some College dons, and their men came up at intervals to cap us respectfully and report the news, One
—at least, for a decade. The question is one that cannot be argued in the abstract, for abstraction is sure to be made of some very important element in the problem. My sister-in-law looks at the question from a matrimonial point of view. 'I am told,' she says, that some first-class girls marry, some third-class, no second-class, and all the failures. You must consider, therefore, whether you wish to attract more frivolous girls to Cambridge, and so increase their chances of marriage by diminishing your son's chances of taking honours. To me it seems sufficient to say that when the Oxford or Cambridge degree comes to mean simply attending lectures and passing examinations, it will be time to put it on a level with that of London, and grant it to women. At present it means having lived in a certain society for a certain length of time, and having learnt certain things, the most important of which are not taught in lecture-rooms.
29th.—There is an account in to-day's paper of the first meeting of the Jubilee Hospital Fund. The Committee hope to raise 50,0001. by a special stamp which 'philatelists' are expected to buy up greedily. The Queen's Printers, it is announced, have engrossed a large number to stick into their · Jubilee Bibles and Prayer Books. What is a 'Jubilee Bible'? And why should it have a stamp stuck in it? Nay, if there be such a thing as a Jubilee Bible, and it requires an adhesive emblem, why should there not be prepared a special book-plate ? Ex-libris collectors are every scrap as avid as they who collect stamps, and their frenzy might be turned to the benefit of the other Jubilee scheme, the Clergy Sustentation Fund, I am sure a word to the admirable Bishop Creighton would produce the requisite article in a twinkling.
The house-martens have at last begun building. told me they wanted to give the M.A.'s who had come up a “good show for their money.” They did. ... What a different place Cambridge is to the rest of the world !--and we have managed to keep it different, I'm thankful to say. You don't need telling that at the worst of the row one could have taken one's lady belongings through the thick of it with perfect not only safety but pleasure, and receiving Courtesy all the time. The majority is far bigger than anyone in Cambridge expected, and I hope has settled the question for ever. When the women have recovered their tempers a bit, I think they will go off on the right line of a women's university.'
! What is the etymology of this word? Is it from dixos (loring) and até ela (ineffect ualness), because such people do not use their stamps for sticking on letters? Is the word as old as the use of • franks '(atenńs)?
CONCEPCION TAKES THE ROAD.
*Who knows ? the man is proven by the hour.' AFTER the great storm came a calm almost as startling. It seemed indeed as if Nature stood abashed and silent before the results of her sudden rage. Day after day the sun glared down from a cloudless sky and all Castile was burnt brown as a desert. In the streets of Madrid there arose a hot dust and the subtle odour of warm earth that rarely meets the nostrils in England. It savoured of India and other sun-steeped lands where water is too precious to throw upon the roads.
Those who could, remained indoors or in their shady patios until the heat of the day was past; and such as worked in the open lay unchallenged in the shade from midday till three o'clock. During those days military operations were almost suspended, although the heads of departments were busy enough in their offices. The confusion of war, it seemed, was past and the sore-needed peace was immediately turned to good account. The army of the Queen Regent was indeed in an almost wrecked condition, and among the field officers jealousy and backbiting, which had smouldered through the wartime, broke out openly. General Vincente was rarely at home and Estella passed this time in quiet seclusion. Coming as she did from Andaluzia, she was accustomed to an even greater heat and knew how to avoid the discomfort of it.
She was sitting one afternoon, with open windows and closed jalousies, during the time of the siesta, when the servant announced Father Concha.
The old priest came into the room wiping his brow with simple ill manners.
You have been hurrying and have no regard for the sun, said Estella.
Copyright 1897 by Dodd, Mead & Co., in the United States of America
*You need not find shelter for an old ox, replied Concha, seating himself. 'It is the young ones that expose themselves unnecessarily.'
Estella glanced at him sharply but said nothing. He sat, handkerchief in hand, and stared at a shaft of sunlight that lay across the floor from a gap in the jalousies. From the street under the windows came the distant sounds of traffic and the cries of the vendors of water, fruit, and newspapers.
Father Concha looked puzzled and seemed to be seeking his way out of a difficulty. Estella sat back in her chair, half hidden by her slow-waving, black fan. There is no pride so difficult as that which is unconscious of its own existence, no heart so hard to touch as that which has thrown its stake and asks neither sympathy nor admiration from the outside world. Concha glanced at Estella and wondered if he had been mistaken. There was in the old man's heart, as indeed there is in nearly all human hearts, a thwarted instinct. How many are there with paternal instincts who have no children ; how many a poet has been lost by the crying need of hungry mouths. It was a thwarted instinct that made the old priest busy himself with the affairs of other people, and always of young people.
'I came hoping to see your father,' he said at length, blandly untruthful. I have just seen Conyngham, in whom we are all interested, I think. His lack of caution is singular. I have been trying to persuade him not to do something most rash and imprudent. You remember the incident in your garden at Ronda-a letter which he gave to Julia.'
“Yes,' answered Estella quietly, 'I remember.'
‘For some reason which he did not explain I understand that he is desirous of regaining possession of that letter, and now Julia, writing from Toledo, tells him that she will give it to him if he will go there and fetch it. The Toledo road, as you will remember, is hardly to be recommended to Mr. Conyngham.'
‘But Julia wishes him no harm,' said Estella.
My child, rarely trust a political man and never a political woman. If Julia wished him to have the letter she could have sent it to him by post. But Conyngham, who is all eagerness, must needs refuse to listen to any argument and starts this afternoon for Toledo-alone. He has not even his servant Concepcion Vara, who has suddenly disappeared, and a woman who claims to be the scoundrel's wife from Algeciras has been making inquiries