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was discovered. When one sees how easily the most judicious may be deceived, one wonders which one of our great literary masterpieces may be merely an accepted fraud.

We know that Robert Stephen Hawker deceived even Macaulay (an excellent judge of ballad poetry) by his " Song of the Western Men," with its refrain of

And must Trelawny die, and must Trelawny die?

Then forty thousand Cornishmen will know the reason why.

We know that Surtees deceived even Sir Walter Scott (a still better judge) with his ballads of "The Slaying of Antony Featherstonhaugh" and "Bartram's Dirge," which purported to be collected from oral tradition and were furnished with learned notes. Nay, Andrew Lang hints an uncomfortable suspicion that Sir Walter Scott was himself the author of the ballad of "Kinmont Willie," which to this day is accepted as one of the finest of the old English ballads. Supposing this be true, how many other Kinmont Wil

lies are there in our literature?

In the London Times of June 16 and 28, 1886, Sir George Grove for the first time told how musical literature was "enriched" by an apocryphal work of Beethoven, "The Dream of St. Jerome." In the course of "Philip" Thackeray makes his Miss Charlotte play Beethoven's "Dream of St. Jerome," which he likens to "a poem of Tennyson's in music." A reader of the novel as it ran through Cornhill very naturally wished to possess this work, which was unknown to him, and, applying to a great musical shop, he was told by the proprietor that it was out of print, but would soon be ready. Now, the proprietor himself had never heard of the piece. But, being a gentleman of infinite resources and an iron will, he ordained that if it did not exist it should exist. He commanded one of his "myrmidons," as Sir George puts it, "to look sharp and cook up something; you know your Beethoven." The myrmidon, not loath to show agility in cause so fair, dived among the lesser known works of the Beethoven whom he knew, and came up with the third of that master's sacred songs. Then, like a subtle archimage or an adept in the modern arts of cookery and fakery, he toiled with his material, adding an allegretto in six-eight, two themes of trivial import whipped extremely thin into an airy froth,-"some real vulgar melody," says Sir George,—and thus was woven "The Dream of St. Jerome."

But was Thackeray, too, a deceiver? If not, what was that music which had so charmed and soothed him? What was the true, the antenatal "Dream of St. Jerome"? Curiously enough, it is to be found in another set of "Sacred Songs," the work of Thomas Moore, among which is one entitled "Who is the Maid? St. Jerome's Love. Air-Beethoven." "Ay, St. Jerome's Love; but what of his Dream?" is the obvious question of the inquirer; for, though love is a dream, a dream is not necessarily of love. Of this difficulty there is no better solution than that of Sir George Grove, who very plausibly conceives that Thackeray's recollection failed him, and thus for "love" he wrote "dream." Moore's song is a version of the opening theme of Beetho ven's Sonata in A flat (Op. 26), set to some inspired verses of his own, and there can be no doubt that Thackeray must have frequently heard it sung, probably by Moore himself. It is somewhat singular that the "myrmidon" who manufactured the "Dream" did not know of the existence of the song. His presumed ignorance of this illustrious example only increases the courage of his action, and renders more remarkable his long immunity from detection. The deception, it must be owned, was aided by the most adroit appeal to the sympathetic public. The title itself is a lure of appalling ingenuity. Nothing could be more circumstantial than the superficial evidence. The large inventiveness of the legend "for the Piano-forte, by L. v. Beethoven,”

is supported by the quotation from "Philip" and by another quotation that soberly sets forth the date and locality of "St. Jerome's Dream.”

One of the most amazing impostors who ever lived was George Psalmanazar. He made his first appearance in London in 1703. His antecedents were then entirely unknown: even to this day we only know what he chose to reveal. His real name is still a mystery. A youth of nineteen, he had come to England at the invitation of the Bishop of London, to whom he had been recommended by a clergyman named Innes, chaplain of a Scotch regiment then in garrison at Sluys, Holland.

These were his preliminary recommendations. And this was the account he gave of himself:

His name was George Psalmanazar. He was born of a noble family in the island of Formosa, off the coast of China. He had been educated by a private tutor who passed for a Japanese, and gained from him all the accomplishments usual to the Formosan youth, as well as a thorough knowledge of Latin. When the tutor suddenly announced his determination of taking a journey to the Western world, whose glories he had frequently unfolded to the eager mind of the young pupil, Psalmanazar determined to accompany him. The tutor agreed, after some apparent hesitation, on condition that the matter should be kept a secret from the youth's father, some of whose money would have to be borrowed for the occasion.

The fugitives gained the coast in safety, and after many adventures reached Avignon, in France. Here the pretended Japanese tutor threw off all disguise and appeared in his true colors. He was in truth Father de Rode, a missionary member of the Jesuit College at Avignon, who had encountered numerous dangers in order to save this single human soul.

But the soul would not be saved, because it was conjoined with a mind that detected the sophistry of Jesuitical Christianity, and when the baffled doctors threatened him with the Inquisition, Psalmanazar managed to escape from Avignon. After leading a vagrant life, he joined the service of the Elector of Cologne, and in this capacity was encountered at Sluys by the aforesaid Chaplain Innes. Lutheran and Catholic had sought in vain to convert his heathen incredulity, but what consubstantiation and transubstantiation had failed to do was effected by the sweet reasonableness of Mr. Innes's Anglican arguments. Psalmanazar was baptized by the chaplain, who straightway communicated the remarkable story to the Bishop of London.

The bishop invited the chaplain and his interesting convert over to England. In London he meets a royal welcome. The Tories, headed by the clergy, are delighted to greet a proselyte from paganism who recognized in Anglicanism "a religion that was not embarrassed by any of those absurdities which are maintained by the various sects in Christendom." The Whigs are pleased to find their worst suspicions of Jesuitry so strongly confirmed. The fashionable world is interested in this good-looking and accomplished young man, who, according to his own account, had once been a cannibal. Philosophers and wits are anxious to obtain information concerning the far-off island of Formosa. He is petted and fêted in the highest circles. He has a few detractors, but their voices are drowned in the general hurrah. The book upon which he is engaged will establish his claims beyond possible cavil. In a few months the book appears. It bears the following title: An Historical and Geographical Description of Formosa, an island subject to the Emperor of Japan, giving an account of the religion, customs, manners, etc.. of the inhabitants; together with a relation of what happened to the author in his travels, particularly his conferences with the Jesuits and others in several parts of Europe. Also the history and reasons of his conversion to Christianity, with his objections against it in defence of Paganism, and their

answers, etc. To which is prefixed a preface in vindication of himself from the reflections of a Jesuit lately come from China, with an account of what passed between them. By George Psalmanazar, a native of the said island, now in London. Illustrated with several cuts."

It was adorned by an alphabet, a map of the island, plates representing the divinities of the country, costumes, religious ceremonies, edifices, and vessels. It was speedily translated into French and German.

After some prefatory remarks upon the utter unreliability of all previous writers on Formosa, the author devotes a hundred and fifty pages to an account of his own adventures, which we have already summarized, and then gives his famous history and description of Formosa.

And first, as to the history. That, it seems, had been misunderstood by every previous writer. A capital error made the island a dependency of China, whereas in fact it had been governed for nearly two hundred years by native dynasties before a usurper, named Merryaandanoo, a Chinese fugitive, got possession of the Japanese throne and subsequently of that of ForFormosa, therefore, was a portion of Japan, and not of China. To establish the thing beyond cavil, Psalmanazar quotes the very words of a letter which Merryaandanoo addressed to the native monarch whom he afterwards deposed.


The story of how Merryaandanoo (the name has comic-opera suggestions which are much assisted by its apparent relationship to Merry-Andrew)—the story of how this bold, enterprising, and unscrupulous monarch succeeded in capturing the island of Formosa, needs a new Homer to sing it. Indeed, it is obviously borrowed from the story of the capture of Troy.

He had usurped the throne of Japan, it appears, by the blackest of perfidies, and soon cast a longing eye upon Formosa.

So he feigned sickness. All the native gods of Japan were appealed to, but in vain. Sacrifices were offered; the divinities seemed to turn their nostrils away from the ascending smoke. Then Merryaandanoo declared that he would appeal from the home gods to foreign gods. He would implore his royal cousin of Formosa to grant permission that victims should be immolated in all the principal temples of his kingdom.

A letter was accordingly framed and despatched. His Highness of Formosa received it with tears of joy. The priests were all in a high state of exhilaration. Here was a chance to test the true god against foreign impostors. An answer was in due course returned, granting to Merryaandanoo the permission he craved, on condition, however, that if the Formosan deity wrought a cure the worship of that god should be established throughout the Japanese kingdom. The condition was at once accepted.

Then Merryaandanoo caused to be constructed a number of norimmonnos of the largest size. And what is a norimmonnos? It is a huge sort of litter capable of containing from thirty to forty people. It is usually divided off into compartments, with window-like openings to admit fresh air. The litter is carried by two elephants.

Now, in each of the norimmonnos the wily Merryaandanoo caused thirty soldiers to be hidden away. To better deceive the Formosans, oxen, calves, or sheep were also placed in the norimmonnos, which could readily be seen through the windows left open for the purpose. To the ordinary eye it would appear that the litters were filled only with the victims for sacrifice.

Then the norimmonnos, three hundred in all, with their attendant elephants, were embarked on board of large flat-boats known as arkha-kasseos. These are huge craft, propelled by as many as two hundred oars on each side.

When the Formosans saw this mighty fleet approaching their shores they

were much tickled. The great Emperor of Japan had done them proud, they thought, in sending over so many victims to be sacrificed to the native god. Owing to the veneration which sacrificial animals inspired in their bosoms, they did not dare to inspect the norimmonnos too closely, but stood by in rapt admiration while the backs of the elephants were laden with their sacred burdens. A magnificent retinue of Japanese officers accompanied them to the capital city of Xternetsa.

Just as the ceremonies were about to begin, and the King of Formosa, his courtiers and his citizens, were looking on in open-mouthed admiration, the signal_agreed upon was given. Out poured ten thousand Japanese soldiers. The Formosans were taken by surprise, the king surrendered on the spot, and Merryaandanoo neatly and expeditiously possessed himself of the capital, and later of the entire island, without shedding a drop of blood!

Since that time the King of Japan has always held a strong garrison in the island, and sends over a king to govern it. This king is known as the Tano Agon, or Superintendent; the real heirs to the throne bear the title of Bagalandro, or Viceroy, and have little more than the empty title, a yearly stipend, and the right to wear robes of a very magnificent description.

The religion of the country is polytheism. One of its chief rites is the yearly sacrifice of eighteen thousand boys' hearts. Note the figures. We shall have to recur to them again. Every month they sacrifice one thousand beasts, and every week as many fowls as they are able.

The religious ceremonies of the Formosans are curious.

"1. The Formosans, in adoring God, use various postures of body, according to the several parts of religious worship they are performing; for, first, when the Farhabadiond is publicly read in their temples, every one of them, at least if he be capable of doing it, bends a little the right knee, and lifts up the right hand towards heaven.

"2. When thanks are given to God, then all of them fall prostrate on the ground.

"3. After the thanksgiving, when they sing songs or hymns, they are to stand up with their hands joined together.

"4. When prayers are made for the sanctification of the sacrifices, then every one bends the left knee and stretches out his arms wide open. But when the victims are a-slaying, every one may sit upon the ground (for they have no seats or pews such as you use here in England), only the richer sort have a cushion to sit on; while the flesh is a-boiling every one stands with his hands joined together, looking towards the upper part of the tabernacle. After the flesh is boiled, every one of the people takes a piece of the flesh from the priest and eats it, and what remains the priests keep for themselves." Religious freedom, however, is assured to all save Christians: "No king can prohibit or enjoin any religion in his country; but every subject shall enjoy the liberty of his conscience to worship God after his own way, except there shall be any found that are Christians."

Transmigration is one of the doctrines taught by the clergy. The soul of a woman, it appears, cannot obtain eternal rest until it has informed the body of a man; though "some, indeed, think that if it animate the body of a male beast, it is sufficient to attain as great happiness as it is capable of."

Another article of the Formosan faith seems to the excellent Mr. Psal

manazar the converted Formosan a deplorable one. And this is the worship which even the sanest and most pious citizens give to the demon.

They hold, indeed, that there are no devils save aerial spirits who people the atmosphere around us. These they imagine to be the souls of the wicked, and they offer sacrifices to them, thinking thus to propitiate them. They acknowledge that these spirits are the enemies of God and man, but they are

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firmly persuaded that all public and private calamities, as storms, earthquakes, famines, pestilences, sicknesses, and so on, are caused by these spirits. Wherefore whenever any affliction seizes them they rush to certain mountains where there are altars raised to the demon or chief of the evil spirits, and prostrate themselves before the hideous statues that surmount the altars, and beat their breasts, and pray, and sacrifice animals of all kinds, and even children, believing that the blood of these innocents will appease the anger of the demon.

The funerals of people of wealth and distinction are conducted with great pomp. The body of the deceased is rubbed with perfumes and laid out on a table for thirty-two hours. Parents and friends assemble around it. Food and drink are served to them, of which they partake in silence.

The funeral cortège is marshalled in this order. First of all walks a city magnate bearing the arms of the deceased; then a lot of musicians singing and playing slow and subdued airs; then the military, armed with lances, bows, cross-bows, and swords; then the monks, preceded by an officer of the convent bearing the emblem of the order and followed by their Soulleto, or superior. The secular priests follow, and in their wake comes the wagon carrying the animals which are to be sacrificed. This wagon is drawn by an elephant. The weepers are next. They march immediately before the body, which is carried in a sort of litter covered with black and surmounted in the middle by a small tower. This litter (which is called norimmonnos ach boskos) is borne on the backs of two elephants covered with black cloth in such a way that nothing can be seen save the head of the first one. On this cloth are worked the armorial devices of the deceased and of his ancestors. Last of all come the relatives and friends of the dead.

When the procession has arrived at the sacrificial altar, priests and monks pray for the sanctification of the animals, they are duly slaughtered and burnt, and then the body itself is cremated with appropriate ceremonies.

Those who hold that the Formosans are olive-skinned are greatly in error. The upper classes, especially, are as fair as Europeans, owing to their habit of living during the hot season in caves or in tents kept cool by the continual sprinkling of water. Nor are the Formosans gigantic in size, as some authors assert. They are rather below than above the middle size, and the ladies especially are very beautiful, so much so that some hold the Formosan and the Turkish women to be the fairest in the world. In a foot-note the author adds with becoming gallantry that even were the Georgians willing to cede them the palm in this respect, it might well be contested by the ladies of England. Their dress, from the descriptions, does not differ very materially from the European in fashion, though its materials are sometimes leopard-, tiger-, and bear-skins, which would seem strangely unsuited to a tropical country.

The national architecture, too, appears to be more European in character than one would have expected, and might be described as a judicious admixture of the Chinese and the classical.

The Formosans have no carriages; their principal vehicles are the norimmonnos, which we have already described. These vary in size and in magnificence.

The norimmonnos of the viceroy is from eight to nine feet in height by twelve in breadth. It is upholstered inside with silk and cloth-of-gold, and is covered on the outside with pure gold. Two elephants, richly caparisoned, are the bearers. The viceroy takes his seat within, accompanied by his Carilhan, or general, together with some ten or twelve of their wives, whenever he goes to Japan to pay formal homage to the emperor.

The norimmonnos of the nobility and gentry are not more than seven feet high and ten wide. They are of wood, painted and gilded.

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