Chapter M

LORD BROUGHAM has recently been engaged in the investigation of a peculiar phenomenon which he calls the "diflection of light." The experiment itself consists in causing a ray of light to fall upon the sharp edge of a knife or on the point of a needle; the ray is thus "diflected" by the edge or point, and becomes prismatic. Lord Brougham, in addition to other curious phenomena, has discovered that the ray, when once diflected, cannot be again diflected in the same direction, but may be diflected in an opposite direction.

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[FROM THE SPECTATOR, OF JUNE 15.]

LIFE OF THE AUTHOR OF 'TREMAINE.'[3]

The literary success of the author of _Tremaine_ was owing to the worldly experience and means of observation which his official position gave him; but the sole interest which he possesses in the eyes of the world arises from his success as an author. As an office-holder, he was not a mere red-tapist, but one of those able, hard-working, experienced administrative men, who really carry on the business of government, and, except in the case of rare ability and courage in a "chief," are masters of the Ministers, though want of interest, ambition, or "gift of the gab," retains them in a subordinate post. As an author, Mr. Ward's temporary success was greater than his permanent prospects. His subjects were generally large enough, he was a man of extensive reading, and his tastes took in a wide range; but he was essentially bounded by the present. His earlier works, which procured him the patronage of Pitt, and with it a seat in Parliament and office, were on the Law of Nations: and though their most attractive part related to a temporary subject, the rights of belligerents and neutrals, there was enough in that branch of the subject to secure duration; but who reads them now? how few, indeed, know of their existence? He cannot be said to have originated the serio-didactic novel, for Hannah More and others had long cultivated that field; but he brought to it, what they could not bring, a well-bred scholarship, a wide knowledge of public and private life, seen in affairs as well as society, with less of a narrow sectarian spirit: yet it may be doubted whether _Tremaine_ some thirty years hence will be more read than _Coelebs in Search of a Wife_. If Mr. Ward did not found the school of fashionable novelists, he was certainly among the founders; and he infused into the best of his works, _De Vere_, a real knowledge of Parliamentary life, a newer and truer view of statesmen and nobles, though a little _en beau_, and a great variety of actual characters. The circumstance of Wentworth's supposed resemblance to Canning, and the accident of publication at a time when the official conspiracy of the novel seemed acting in Parliament, gave _De Vere_ a success with the world at large, which its length and longwindedness might have marred. Mr. Ward's essays (generally in the form of stories) were not so successful with the public as his fictions. We think he was by nature designed for an essayist--naturally given to discuss and expound; but nature had denied him that penetrating originality of perception, that vigor of thought, and (as a consequence) that terseness of style, which are necessary to render the essay attractive and to preserve it. As Robert Plumer Ward was essentially confined to the present, so he was dependent on it; he was nothing if not in the mode, and in his later works he rather fell behind the fashion.

His life as presented in these volumes was not very remarkable or eventful. His father was a merchant at Gibraltar, and also held the post of chief clerk of the civil department of the Ordnance in that garrison: his mother was a Spanish Jewess. Robert Ward was born in London, in 1765, on a visit of the family to England; and, after an education at private schools, was sent to Oxford, in 1783. He left the University in 1787, in debt; and soon after became a student of the Inner Temple. An affection of the knee-joint sent him to Bareges: he was speedily cured; but was so attracted by the pleasures of French society, that he remained in France till the Revolution; from which he had a narrow escape.

"It happened, unfortunately for him, that another 'Ward,' of
about the same age and personal appearance, had incurred the
suspicion of the Republican party, at a moment when suspicion
lost all its doubts, and death followed close upon the heels
of certainty. To use his own words, 'I was arrested for having
the same name and the same colored coat and waistcoat as
another Ward, guilty of treason; was ordered without trial to
Paris, to be guillotined; and only escaped by their catching
the real traitor: I was, however, banished the republic,
merely for my name's sake.'"

On his return to England he was called to the bar, in June 1790; and but for a singular circumstance might have passed through life as a literary barrister, with middling success in law and letters.

"He was, early in 1794, leaving his chambers in the Temple
for the purpose of paying a visit in the Northern outskirts
of London. Upon crossing Fleet Street he had to traverse Bell
Yard; and as he passed a watchmaker's shop his attention was
attracted by a placard in the window, of a very revolutionary
character, convening a meeting of a certain society, that
evening, at the watchmaker's. Many a man would have passed it
unnoticed, or contented himself with a feeling of regret or
indignation at the prevalence during that period of similar
views: not so was it with young Ward; he was fresh from
all the horrors which the success of such principles in a
neighboring country had entailed; he at once determined to
enter the watchmaker's shop and provoke a discussion with
him. For two hours did the young student contest with the
Republican the justice of his sentiments; for two hours did he
labor to impress upon him, not only by argument but by his own
experience, the horrors to which success must lead; but at
the end of that time he was obliged to leave him, apparently
unmoved, or at all events unconvinced. He paid his distant
visit, and late in the evening returned homeward through the
same alley. Desparing of success, he paid no second visit
to the disputant of the morning, though he did remark with
pleasure that the revolutionary placard had been withdrawn.
Hardly, however, had he passed the shop twenty yards, when
he heard some one running after and calling to him. He looked
back and beheld the Republican watchmaker. The manner of the
man was changed from the dogged imperturbability with which he
had listened to Mr. Ward's arguments in the morning to a frank
and eager confidence. 'I have called you in,' said he, 'to say
I have done nothing but think over your words: I feel their
truth; I shudder at the precipice on which I stood, at the
evil I was about to do; and am now as anxious to communicate
and prevent as I was before to conceal all our schemes.' He
then communicated to him the existence of a most fearful
plot against the Government, which, with his newly-awakened
feelings, he longed to frustrate by immediately informing the
authorities, if he who had convinced would also accompany and
support him.

"They went to the Chief Magistrate, Sir Richard Ford; who
attached so much importance to the communication, that the
three were at once ushered into the presence of Pitt and his
colleagues, assembled with Macdonald and Scott, the Attorney
and Solicitor-General. The singular history was duly narrated
in detail; the arguments carried on by the young Mentor, the
misgivings of the Republican, and then the details of the
impending danger. The countenance of Pitt was turned with
interest on the young lawyer, who seemed not only to share
that horror of revolutionary movements with which he was
himself so strongly imbued, but who had so gallantly acted
upon it. 'What was your motive, young gentleman,' he inquired,
'for thus entering the shop?' 'I, Sir,' answered young Ward,
'am not long returned from France, and have there seen in
practice what sounds so fine in theory.'"

Though, according to report, Pitt was not the man to overlook rising talent or lose sight of a useful adherent, eight years elapsed before much came of this singular introduction; during which the young barrister published two books or pamphlets on the Laws of Nations, married a sister of Lady Mulgrave, and was slowly working his way at the bar. In 1802, Pitt, in a stiff enough letter, offered Mr. Ward a seat for Cockermouth, one of the Lowther boroughs; and when he returned to power, his protégé became Under-Secretary of State for the Foreign Department, (his brother-in-law, Lord Mulgrave, being Principal Secretary,) _after_ he had published a pamphlet in justification of Pitt's highhanded seizure of the Spanish treasure-ships. Of course he went out on the accession of All the Talents after Pitt's death; and came in again on their expulsion, as a Lord of the Admiralty, still under Lord Mulgrave. In 1812, he was moved to the Ordnance, as "Clerk." In 1823, he quitted office, withdrew from Parliament, and began novel-writing as an amusement, at fifty-eight. He died in 1846, in his eighty-second year; having lived long enough to see his son, the present Lord High Commissioner of the Ionian Islands, Secretary to the Admiralty under a Whig Ministry. He was thrice married, and each time advantageously. His first wife, as we have seen, was a sister-in-law of Lord Mulgrave; the second, whom he wedded at the age of sixty-three, was the widow of Mr. Plumer of Gilston Park, which became his through the marriage; his third alliance, when he was nearly seventy, gave him the advantage of a jointure of 1,000l. per annum allowance as guardian, and a couple of mansions. His writings would lead to the notion that Robert Ward was everything tender and amiable; and so he might be as long as he was pleased; but he would seem to have had a quiet implacability, that was offended on slight grounds, and obdurate in displeasure. He quarreled with his son on account of his politics: he received some slight from an official friend and repulsed all attempts at explanation, till a letter written when Ward was seventy-two and his correspondent turned of seventy produced a reconciliation rather dry on his part. It would have been satisfactory to know that some relenting, some interest beyond a "suspicion" of the writer, had been shown on the receipt of the following manly letter, written after the publication of _De Vere_. After alluding to the internal traits by which he had identified the author, the anonymous correspondent continues:

"It surprises me, I confess, that the feeling, judgment, and
sagacity, which sufficed to produce the work that I have been
commending, should have suffered the golden opinions of me,
which you entertained, to be filched and adulterated by mere
traducers, whose reports the hearer's own experience could
have almost refuted, and whose testimony was so obviously
liable to be warped by prejudice.

"We live in a strange world. Before my feelings and
dispositions had changed from wavering and transient to
permanent and fixed,--before the desultory ramblings, which
almost became our age, had terminated in a path, and that,
I trust, a right and honorable one, and from which, with
moderate allowance for human inferiority, I have not deviated
since,--before my principles had attained their vigor, and
generated those correct habits which it was their province
to produce,--in short, while, like most young men, I might
be said to have as yet 'no character at all,' I obtained your
friendship. How I lost it, I have already told you. When,
remains to tell you. I lost it when any fruits which my youth
may have promised had appeared; lost it all at once, under
circumstances scarcely more annoying to my feelings than
revolting to my sense of what was right and just.

"I am not seeking to penetrate what is to me, indeed, no
secret; neither do I form the unavailing wish that our expired
intercourse should revive. C'en est fait. A knot which has
been loosened or untied may be formed again, but this knot has
been cut. Accordingly, I neither address you by your name nor
subscribe my own. My hand-writing, though not disguised, is,
like yourself, much changed; and, though this were not the
case, you could not, after the lapse of so much time, have
recognized it.

"My regard you continue to possess, though I am not certain
of your title to retain it. But you have, by means of your
estrangement, sustained a loss. In ceasing to entertain a
feeling of esteem and cordiality toward me, you have lost that
which is a source of soothing gratification to the mind in
which it is cherished, and which, I flatter myself, I as well
deserved to have retained with regard to me as any other of
your early friends, be that other who he may. Again: though
you have not lost a friend, (for my sentiments toward you
continue friendly,) you have elected to lose the usual and
not unpalatable fruits of friendship in my case: and this at
a time of life (for we are much of the same age) when old
friends can the less be spared, because new friendships are
rarely formed.

"When our earliest meetings and the commencements of a
bygone friendship are called up before me by the letter which,
I scarcely know why, I am writing, I feel myself softened
as well as depressed by the recollection; and, as I write
farewell, it gives me pain to think that I might add to it
the words--probably forever. God bless you."

There is nothing in Robert Ward's life or literary eminence to require or even justify so large a space as his nephew has bestowed upon it. Strictly speaking, indeed, the biography occupies but a small portion of these bulky volumes, which are chiefly filled with remains or correspondence; and much of that little is not distinguished for matter or character. The correspondence is indifferent. The latter portion of it is mainly devoted to literary criticism, or compliments, having for subject the author's works or those of his praisers; and is weak and flimsy to a degree. The earlier portion principally relates to politics, especially to the intrigues carried on by Canning and Malmesbury during the Addington Ministry to procure Pitt's premature return to office. To this Lord Mulgrave was judiciously opposed; and although there is nothing very new or particular in the account, and the letters are rather flat, it gives the Mulgrave version of the business. The most valuable part of the book, and which was, indeed, well worthy of separate publication, is a diary that Mr. Ward kept through a considerable portion of his official life, beginning in June 1809, and continuing with a short interruption till the death of Perceval, when it ceased till 1819; after which it was maintained to a later period than Mr. Phipps thinks it proper to publish it. This diary consists of gossip, anecdote, on dits, and confidential communications made to Mr. Ward on various occasions and at critical times, together with his own observations and reflections on affairs, or remarks on characters. As he was much in the confidence of Perceval, saw a good deal of the Duke of Wellington, (Master-General of the Ordnance during the era of the Manchester massacre and Sidmouth's spy doings,) and was continually behind the scenes, the diary is both curious and amusing. Allowance must of course be made for the writer's position as a partisan, and some of his later notions are those of the "laudator temporis acti," speaking without responsibility; but it is sufficiently interesting to raise a desire for the whole, published as a diary, and not mixed up with other matters to which it has small relation.

The diary begins with Canning's intrigue against Castlereagh; and Canning is occasionally brought forward in the earlier period, and painted with a good deal of shadow, (he was then in a sort of opposition to Perceval,) and altogether a very different personage from the Wentworth of _De Vere_. Lord Palmerston, then a "very fine young man," and a promising candidate for place, with no other faults, in Mr. Ward's estimation, than what he has certainly got rid of long since--nervousness and modesty!--also figures in the pages, and at a critical conjuncture of his fortunes.

"Lord Palmerston came to town, sent for by Perceval. He was
so good as to confide to me that three things were offered to
him,--the Chancellorship of the Exchequer, Secretaryship at
War, or a seat at the Treasury, by way of introduction to the
seals, if he was afraid of entering upon them at once. These
offers were, however, in the alternative of there being any
of them declined by Milnes (Member for Pomfret), to whom they
were made in the first instance. Lord P. consulted me very
frankly upon them, and asked if I thought he would be equal
to the seals either in Cabinet or Parliament, particularly the
latter, where he had barely made his début. I told him, and
was most sincere, that in common with all his friends whom I
had ever heard speak on the subject, I thought him quite equal
to them in point of capacity, but as to nerves in Parliament,
(of which he seemed most to doubt,) nobody could judge but
himself. He said, Petty (whom I had mentioned) had come
forward after having felt his way and got possession of
himself in the House, and that if he had done the same, he
perhaps would not hesitate. As it was, he inclined to the
second place, but had written to Lord Malmesbury. We walked up
to Hyde Park discussing the subject. Among other topics which
I urged, one seemed to impress him much; which was, the great
difference there would be in his situation and pretensions
upon a return to office, in the event of our going out, if
he retired as a Cabinet Minister instead of a subordinate
capacity. He allowed it much flattered his ambition, but
feared the prejudice it would occasion to his own reputation
and the interest of his friends if he failed. I left him
inclining to the Secretary at War; and admired his prudence,
as I have long done the talents and excellent understanding,
as well as the many other good qualities as well as
accomplishments, of this very fine young man."

One portion of the diary relates to the Regency. New facts are scarcely advanced, but we think some freshness is given from the light and coloring of the author. Unless Sheridan really persuaded the Prince to throw over the Whigs, out of revenge for Whig hauteur, his Royal Highness would seem to have acted entirely from himself. The arrogance of Grey and Grenville comes out very strongly in the painting of his opponent. After all, however, it is doubtful whether they _could_ have come in. The Tories would have been strong in Opposition; the Whigs could scarcely form a Government without the Canning votes, and the hatred with which the old Whigs regarded their leader rendered that junction impossible: what was more than all, their cowardly anti-national policy would have rendered their position one of great difficulty with the country. The fact is, that poor in point of talent as the Perceval Ministry was, it best represented the opinion of the country; as the Whigs now are in a similar position. Some of these points are well put in this report of a conversation in the House of Commons; which will also give an idea of the manner of the diary.

"J.W. Ward told me what he called a bon mot, and seemed much
to enjoy, of Lady ----'s. He had said there was a difficulty
in getting people to accept of offices just now; she answered,
she thought Lord Grenville would be not unwilling to accept
them _all_ in his own person. Oh strange union, where this,
by one of their party, is thought characteristic and told
with glee! I understand, however, that Tierney has confessed
a difficulty. The Prince, it seems, wants them to accept, and
they are afraid to accept. They are therefore reduced to tell
the Prince, We would accept if it were to do ourselves good;
but not when it is inconvenient, though to do you good.
The remarkable part of the evening was a conversation with
Brand, who came over to sit by me. Though he had spoken, and
strongly, against us in the debate, he opened immediately upon
the merits of Perceval; he admired his conduct and ability
so much, that if he had ever given him a vote in his life, he
said, he would have supported him on these questions; that
his character had enabled him to commence the stand he had
made, and character had attached his party so much to him as
to continue the majority all through; that this sentiment
was not peculiar to him in the Opposition, but partaken
by many--indeed, all without exception admired him; that
this would give him extraordinary influence as the head of
an Opposition, which must give great trouble, to the new
Government when it was formed: nevertheless, he thought we
were not going out, it was too dangerous to come in; probably,
he added, laughing, the Regent will keep Perceval three months
as his father's Minister, and then 'fall so much in love with
him' (that was the expression) that he will continue him
as his own. He then entered much on the comparison between
him and Canning; the latter of whom, he said, spite of his
abilities, was discarded by all parties; that he could tell
me it was finally resolved not to admit him in the new
Government, into which some on account of those abilities
had wished to introduce him. I may say, he observed, that I
had some share in the rejection: I protested against such a
junction whenever it was talked of; I told my friends it would
ruin that without which they never could make a Government,
character; that the eyes of a great number whom they could by
no means command were upon them: I bade them look at the back
rows on the side of Opposition, and asked them if they could
count such men as Nicholson, Calvert, Halsey, Coke of Norfolk,
&c., &c., as their regular supporters, unless it was from
an esteem for their character--and if that character would
not sustain a deep wound in the outset--if, for the sake of
power, they allied themselves with a man who had deserted all
alliances he had ever made; that he had deserted them before,
after a treaty made, and had then deserted Perceval, after
endeavoring to undermine Castlereagh; his conduct to whom had
injured himself with the public in the most serious manner,
in having allowed him to retain his office and undertake that
melancholy expedition, five months after he had declared
him so incapable that he put his own resignation upon his
dismissal, that to ally with such a man could be only lowering
themselves in public esteem without gaining anything but a
hollow support. I would inform Canning myself, he added, that
this was my protest, if he asked me."

The heads of the "great Whig families," however, were more sanguine, and hoped, or at least were occupied, to the last. Their treatment by the Prince was characteristic; and one can fancy the magnates at Adam's announcement in the following extract:

"What most offended them was the manner in which the Prince
announced his resolution. They were in the very act of forming
the Administration, filling offices, &c., &c., when Adam came
in from the Prince. They said they could not be disturbed;
he said he must disturb them, for he had a message from the
Prince: they replied that it was for the Prince they were at
work, for they were making the Government; Adam told them to
spare all trouble, for no Government was to be made. This was
on Friday the 1st, in the evening; and what affronted them
was, that after having had such a task committed to them, the
Prince should have presumed to take a counter resolution by
himself without first consulting them."

This is a characteristic trait of the Duke of Wellington's way of getting through, business.

"He was fond of relating, that soon after the Duke's
appointment, he was leaving his office at the usual hour,
when, on coming out at the Park entrance, he perceived his new
chief just in the act of getting on horseback. He went up to
the Duke, and mentioned that there were some matters connected
with the department on which he would like to communicate
with him when he had time. 'No time like the present,' said
the Duke, and, at once dismissing his horse, returned with
Mr. Ward into the Ordnance Office. There, then, he remained
closeted with the Duke till past eight, listening to and
answering his pertinent queries upon manifold points connected
with the department. From that moment the Duke appeared to be
au fait of the business in hand, and ready to cope with the
details as they from time to time presented themselves."

The Duke seems to have been more alarmed at the state of the nation about 1819 than the nature of the case justified; deceived, probably, by the official "reports" of Messrs. Castles and Co. The following remark, however, exhibits his penetration:

"He said, if the rising broke out anywhere, it would be
at Glasgow and Paisley; where many rich merchants and all
they supported would be sure to suffer, while no one could
certainly foretell how soon it might be put down. This led
him to his favorite notion, that the loyal should be taught
to rely more upon themselves, and less upon the Government,
in their own defense against the disloyal. It was this, he
thought, that formed and kept up a national character: while
every one was accustomed to rely upon the Government, upon a
sort of commutation for what they paid to it, personal energy
went to sleep, and the end was lost: that in England, he
observed, every man who had the commonest independence, one,
two, five or six hundred, or a thousand a year, had his own
little plan of comfort--his favorite personal pursuit, whether
his library, his garden, his hunting, or his farm, which he
was unwilling to allow anything (even his own defense) to
disturb; he therefore deceived himself into a notion that if
there was a storm it would not reach him, and went on his own
train till it was actually broke in upon by force. This led
to supineness and apathy as to public exertion; which would in
the end ruin us: the disposition therefore must be changed,
by forcing them to exert themselves; which would not be if
Government did everything in civil war, they nothing: hence
his wish for a volunteer force. All this was exceedingly
sound, and showed the reach of his reflecting mind as an
observer of human nature, as well as a statesman and soldier,
more than anything I have yet seen."

There is a curious passage touching Pitt's dying moments.

"At the time Mr. Ward accepted the post of Under-Secretary of
State, (resigning that of Welsh Judge,) it had been promised
him that the apparent risk of such a step to the future
prospects of his family should be guarded against by the grant
of a pension, to commence when he should cease to hold office.
He had been but a year in the post thus accepted, and amid
the pressure of other matters the contemplated arrangement
had never been completed. More than once in his last illness
did Pitt allude to his unfulfilled promise, and speak with
kindness of him to whom it had been made. Later on, when he
could no longer continuously articulate, he made the name
'Robert Ward' audible, and added signs for paper and ink.
His trembling hand having feebly traced a number of wandering
characters, and added what could be easily recognized as
his well-known signature, he sank back. The precious paper
(precious, whatever may have been its unknown import, as a
proof of remembrance at so solemn a moment) was afterward
handed over by the physician in attendance, Sir Walter
Farquhar, to Mr. Ward; and many a time did he declare, as he
displayed it to me, that he would give anything he valued most
in the world to be able to decipher its unformed characters."

Some posthumous compositions of Mr. Ward are appended to the Memoirs. They consist of "characters," similar to those of Chesterfield and other writers, and of "sketches" and essays; these last being set in a species of framework, intended to connect them into a series. They are not the best specimens of the author's composition; and perhaps were hardly worth publication. Allowance is to be made, as Mr. Phipps remarks, for their unrevised state; and revision might have removed crudities and imparted more closeness and strength. It would not, however, have altered their main defects; which may be summed up by saying that they belonged to another age, without reaching the peculiar force and finish which alone can give interest to an obsolete mode.

[Footnote 3: Memoirs of the Political and Literary Life of Robert Plumer Ward, Esq., Author of "The Law of Nations," "Tremaine," "De Vere," &c. With Selections from his Correspondence, Diaries, and unpublished Literary Remains. By the Honorable Edmund Phipps. In two volumes. Published by Murray.]

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THE BAGPIPE.--In Gothic sculpture and tracery angels are sometimes portrayed practising on the bagpipe. It was occasionally used in churches before the introduction of the organ, which occurred early in the fifteenth century. Written music came into use about the same time, and both were loudly denounced by many of the old school-men as unnecessary and vain innovations.

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THE IVORY MINE:

A TALE OF THE FROZEN SEA.

I.--YAKOUTSK.

Yakoutsk is one of the principal cities of Siberia, a country the name of which excites exaggerated ideas of sterility and desolation. Watered by rivers, which in every direction do the work of railways, with richly-wooded mountains and valleys, with green slopes, cultivated fields, soft meadows, gardens, and grassy islands in the great streams, with all the common vegetables in pretty fair abundance, with an endless source of commerce in furs and ivory, Siberia, except in its extreme northern provinces, presents, like most other lands, a very considerable amount of compensation for considerable rigor of climate. Yakoutsk is a completely northern town on the great river Lena, with wide streets and miserable huts, all of wood, in many of which ice is still used in winter for panes of glass. A very eminent traveler tells us that on his visit there were 4000 people living in 500 houses; with three stone churches, two wooden ones, and a convent. It had once an antiquity to show--the ancient Ostrog or fortress built in 1647 by the Cossacks; but which menaced ruin more and more every day, being not of stone, but of wood, and at last disappeared. Even here progress is observable, and wretched cabins give way gradually to houses, some of which are even elegantly arranged in the interior. It is a great commercial center: from the Anubra to Behring's Straits, from the banks of the Frozen Sea to Mount Aldana, from Okhotsk and even Kamschatka, goods are brought hither, consisting chiefly of furs, seals' teeth and mammoths' tusks, which afford excellent ivory, all of which are sold in the summer to itinerant traders, who give in return powerfully-flavored tobacco, corn and flour, tea, sugar, strong drinks, Chinese silks and cottons, cloth, iron and copper utensils, and glass.

The inhabitants of the town are chiefly traders, who buy of the Yakouta hunters their furs at a cheap rate, and then sell them in a mysterious kind of fashion to the agents who come from Russia in search of them. During the annual fair they stow up their goods in private rooms; and here the Irkoutsk men must come and find them. These traders are the Russian inhabitants, the native Yakoutas being the only artisans. In this distant colony of the human race, the new-born child of a Russian is given to a Yakouta woman to nurse, and when old enough, learns to read and write, after which he is brought up to the fur trade, and his education is finished.

Ivan Ivanovitch was a young man born and bred at Yakoutsk. His parents had given him the usual amount of tuition, and then allowed him for a time to follow the bent of his inclination. Ivan took to the chase. Passionately fond of this amusement, he had at an early age started with the Yakouta trappers, and become learned in the search for sables, ermines, and lynxes; could pursue the reindeer and elk on skates; and had even gone to the north in quest of seals. He thus at the age of twenty, knew the whole active part of his trade, and was aware of all the good hunting-grounds on which the Siberians founded their prosperity. But when he was called on to follow the more quiet and sedentary part of his occupation, he was not one-half so quick. His rough and rude life made town existence distasteful to him, and he evinced all that superb contempt for shop-keeping which characterizes the nomadic man, whether Red Indian, Arab, Tartar, or Siberian.

But Ivan was told he must make his way in the world. His parents who died before he attained to manhood, left him a small fortune in rubles and furs, which, if he chose to be industrious and persevering, might pave the way to the highest position in his native town. Acting on the pressing advice of his friends, he gave up his wanderings, and went to reside in the house of his fathers, piled up his skins and ivory, bought new ones, and prepared for the annual fair. The merchants from Irkoutsk, the capital, came, and Ivan, who was sharp and clever, did a good trade. But when his furs and teeth were changed into tea, tobacco, brandy, cloth, &c., he did not feel a whit happier. Ivan longed for the arid hills, and lofty mountains, and pellucid lakes--for the exciting hunt and the night bivouac, when gray-headed Yakoutas would, with their _ganzis_--the Irish duddeen--in their mouths, tell terrible and wonderful stories of ancient days. When eating town fare, his stomach yearned after frozen Yakouta butter, cut up with axes, and for _strouganina_ or frozen fish, with reindeer brains, and other northern delicacies. And then his kind friends told him that he wanted a wife--a possession without which, they assured him, life was dull, adding that in her society he would cease to long for communion with bears and savages.

Ivan believed them, and, following their advice, launched into society--that is, he went more than usual to the noisy festivities of the town, which form the occupation of the dull season. The good people of Yakoutsk--like all people approaching to a savage state, especially in northern climes--consider eating the great business of life. Fabulous legends are told of the enormous capacity for food, approaching that of the Esquimaux; but however this may be, certain it is that a Yakoutsk festival was always commenced by several hours of laborious eating and drinking of fat and oily food and strong brandy. When the utmost limits of repletion were reached, the patriarchs usually took to pipes, cards, and punch, while the ladies prepared tea, and ate roasted nuts, probably to facilitate digestion. The young men conversed with them, or roasted their nuts for them, while perhaps a dandy would perform a Siberian dance to the music of the violin or _gousli_, a kind of guitar. Ivan joined heartily in all this dissipation: he smoked with the old men; he drank their punch; he roasted nuts for the ladies, and told them wonderful stories which were always readily listened to, except when some new fashion, which for several years before had been forgotten in Paris--found its way via St. Petersburgh, Moscow, and Irkoutsk, to the deserts of Siberia. Then he was silent; for the ladies had ample subject of discourse, not forgetting the great tea-table topic--scandal; causing the old men to shake their heads, and declare such things were not when they were young. Ivan, however, had one unfailing subject of popularity with the ladies. Like most Russians who have had occasion to travel much in cold places, he relished a cup of tea even better than the punch, as he had learned by experience that there was more genuine warmth in the pot than in the bowl. Most Russian officers are known to share this opinion.

Ivan had several times had his attention directed to Maria Vorotinska, a young and rich widow, who was the admiration of all Yakoutsk. Her husband had left her a fortune in knowledge of the fur trade and in rubles, with a comfortable house nicely furnished, in Siberia the very height of human felicity. It was commonly reported that Maria, young as she was, was the best bargainer in the land. She got her skins for less than anybody else, and sold them for a higher price. With these qualifications, she must, it was said, prove a jewel to Ivan, who was not a close buyer nor a hard seller. But Ivan for some time remained perfectly insensible both to these social advantages and the great beauty of the lady. He met her often, and even roasted her more nuts than any one else, which was a strong case of preference; but he did not seem caught in the fair one's toils. He neither ate, nor slept, nor amused himself one whit the less than when he first knew her. One evening, however, as Maria handed him his tea, with a hot cake, Ivan, whether owing to some peculiar smile on her face, or to the domestic idea which the act suggested, seemed certainly very much struck, and next day formally proposed. Maria laughed, and tossed her head, and spoke a few good-natured words; and then, without either accepting or rejecting him, hinted something about his youth, his want of devotion to business, and his want of fortune. Ivan, a little warmly, declared himself to be the best hunter in Yakoutsk, and hence the most practically-experienced of any in the trade, and then gave the sum-total of his possessions.

"Just one quarter of what good old Vorotinska left me!" replied the prudent Maria.

"But if I liked," replied Ivan, "I could be the richest merchant in Siberia."

"How?" asked Maria a little curiously, for the mere mention of wealth was to her like powder to the war-horse.

"Being almost the only Russian who has lived among the Yakoutas, I know the secret of getting furs cheaper and easier than any one else. Beside, if I chose to take a long journey, I could find ivory in vast heaps. A tradition is current of an ivory mine in the north, which an old Yakouta told me to be truth."

"Very likely," said Maria, to whom the existence of the fossil ivory of the mammoth in large masses was well known; "but the _promich lenicks_--trading companies--have long since stripped them."

"Not this," cried Ivan; "it is a virgin mine. It is away, away in the Frozen Sea, and requires courage and enduring energy to find. Two Yakoutas once discovered it. One was killed by the natives; the other escaped, and is now an old man."

"If you could find that," said Maria, "you would be the first man in Siberia, and the Czar himself would honor you."

"And you?" asked Ivan humbly.

"Ivan Ivanovitch," replied Maria calmly, "I like you better than any man in Yakoutsk, but I should adore the great ivory merchant."

Ivan was delighted. He was a little puzzled by the character of the lady, who, after marrying an old man for his fortune, seemed equally desirous of reconciling her interest and her affections in a second marriage. But very nice ideas are not those of the half-civilized, for we owe every refinement both of mind and body to civilization, which makes of the raw material man--full of undeveloped elements--what cooking makes of the potato root. Civilization is the hot water and fire which carry off the crudities, and bring forth the good qualities.

However this maybe, Ivan nursed his idea. Apart from the sudden passion which had invaded him, he had long allowed this fancy to ferment in his brain. During his wandering evenings, a noted hunter named Sakalar, claiming descent from the supposed Tartar founder of the Yakoutas, had often narrated his perilous journey on sledges across the Frozen Sea, his discovery of an ivory mine--that is, a vast deposit of mammoths' tusks, generally found at considerable depth in the earth, but here open to the grasp of all. He spoke of the thing as a folly of his youth, which had cost the life of his dearest friend, and never hinted at a renewed visit. But Ivan was resolved to undertake the perilous adventure, and even to have Sakalar for his guide.