Chapter X: The Grand Canon of Arizona 271 (3)

He is a great lover and praiser of himself; a contemner and scorner of
others; given rather to lose a friend than a jest; jealous of every
word and action of those about him (especially after drink, which is
one of the elements in which he liveth); a dissembler of ill parts
which reign in him, a bragger of some good that he wanteth; thinketh
nothing well but what either he himself or some of his friends and
countrymen hath said or done: he is passionately kind and angry;
careless either to gain or keep; vindictive, but, if he be well
answered, at himself. For any religion, as being versed in both.
Interpreted best sayings and deeds often to the worst. Oppressed with
phantasy which hath ever mastered his reason, a general disease in
many poets.... He was in his personal character the very reverse of
Shakespeare, as surly, ill-natured, proud and disagreeable as
Shakespeare, with ten times his merit, was gentle, good-natured, easy,
and amiable.

Jonson expressed with equal frankness his opinion of Drummond, to whom he said that he "was too good and simple, and that oft a man's modesty made a fool of his wit."

Drummond as a poet was classed by Robert Southey and Thomas Campbell in the highest rank of the British poets who appeared before Milton. His sonnets, which are remarkable for their exquisite delicacy and tenderness, won for him the title of "the Scottish Petrarch." It has been said that they come as near to perfection as any others of this kind of writing and that as a sonneteer Drummond is surpassed only by Shakespeare, Milton, and Wordsworth among the poets who have written in English.

Before taking leave of the Scottish poet and his picturesque home, we paused for a few minutes to visit the wondrous caverns, cut out of the solid rock upon which the house is built. Antiquarians have insisted that these caves date back to the time of the Picts, at least as far as the ninth or tenth century.

This, too, was the popular understanding before the scientists offered their opinion. In a curious old volume, published in 1753,[2] we are told:--

Underneath [the house of Drummond] are the noted Caverns of
_Hawthorn-Den_, by Dr. _Stuckely_ in his _Itinerarium-Curiosa_, said
to have been the King of _Pictlands_ Castle or Palace; which nothing
can shew the Doctor's Credulity more than by suffering himself to be
imposed upon by the Tattle of the Vulgar, who in all things they
cannot account for, are ascribed to the _Picts_, without the least
Foundation. For those caves, instead of having been a Castle or
Palace, I take them either to have been a Receptacle for Robbers, or
Places to secure the People and their Effects in, during the
destructive Wars between the _Picts_ and _English_, and _Scots_ and
_English_.

During the contests between Bruce and Baliol for the Scottish crown, these caves became a place of refuge for Bruce and his friends, and one of the rooms is still pointed out as Bruce's bedchamber.

"Here, too, are labyrinthine paths
To caverns dark and low,
Wherein they say King Robert Bruce
Found refuge from his foe."

In the walls are many square holes, from twelve to eighteen inches deep, supposed to have been used as cupboards. On a rough table near one of the openings is a rude and very much damaged desk, said to have been the property of John Knox.

Leaving these gloomy resorts of ancient heroes--perhaps of ancient robbers--we sought a brighter and more cheerful scene. Descending the path we reached a bridge over the Esk on which is a gate that permitted us to leave Hawthornden, although it does not allow wanderers on the other side to enter. The bridge gave a fine opportunity for a farewell view of the grand old mansion, high in the air at the top of the cliff, which we were now viewing from below.

A delightful stroll along the left bank of the stream for about two miles brought us to Roslin Castle, situated on a rocky promontory high above the river. At the point of the peninsula the river is narrowed by a large mass of reddish sandstone over which it falls. When flooded this becomes a beautiful cascade,--whence the name, "Ross," a Gaelic word meaning promontory or jutting rock, and "Lyn," a waterfall,--the "Rock of the Waterfall." The Esk, where it forms the cascade, is still called "the Lynn." The view from the promontory is one of the most delightful to be imagined. The banks are precipitous and covered with a luxurious growth of natural wood. The vale seems to be crowded with every possible combination of trees and cliffs, foliage and sparkling stream, that nature can put together to form a region of romantic suggestion.

Little now remains of the ancient castle of Roslin, which was formerly two hundred feet long and ninety feet wide. A few ivy-covered walls and towers may still be seen, in the midst of which is a more modern dwelling rebuilt in 1653. The ancient foundation walls, nine feet thick, still visible below the surface, and the almost inaccessible location of the castle tell the story of its original purpose. A huge kitchen, with the fireplace alone occupying as much space as the entire kitchen of one of our modern houses, suggests the lavish scale upon which the establishment was once conducted.

The castle was built by a family of St. Clairs, whose ancestor, Waldernus de St. Clair, came over with the Conqueror. William St. Clair, Baron of Roslin, Earl of Caithness and Prince of the Orkneys, who flourished in the middle of the fifteenth century, was one of the most famous of these barons. He lived in the magnificence of royal state.

He kept a great court and was royally served at his own table in
vessels of gold and silver.... He had his halls and other apartments
richly adorned with embroidered hangings. His princess, Elizabeth
Douglas, was served by seventy-five gentlewomen, whereof fifty-three
were daughters of noblemen, all clothed in velvet and silks, with
their chains of gold, and other ornaments; and was attended by two
hundred riding gentlemen in all her journeys; and if it happened to be
dark when she went to Edinburgh, where her lodgings were at the foot
of the Black Friar's Wynd, eighty lighted torches were carried before
her.[3]

The castle was accidentally set on fire in 1447 and badly damaged, and was leveled to the ground by English forces under the Earl of Hertford, in 1544, who was sent to Scotland by Henry VIII to seek to enforce the marriage of his son Edward to the infant Mary of Scotland, the daughter of James V. In 1650 it was again destroyed, during Cromwell's campaign in Scotland, by General Monk, and rising again, suffered severely at the hands of a mob from Edinburgh in 1688.

It was William St. Clair, the feudal baron above referred to, who built the exquisitely beautiful chapel which stands not far from the castle. The same ancient manuscript, previously quoted, informs us that

His age creeping on him made him consider how he had spent his time
past, and how to spend that which was to come. Therefore to the end he
might not seem altogether unthankfull to God for the benefices
receaved from Him, it came in his minde to build a house for God's
service of most curious work, the which, that it might be done with
greater glory and splendour he caused artificers to be brought from
other regions and forraigne kingdoms and caused dayly to be abundance
of all kinde of workemen present, etc., etc.

The foundation of Roslin Chapel was laid in 1446. It was originally intended to be a cruciform structure with a high central tower. The existing chapel is, therefore, really only a small part of what the church was meant to be. Its style is called "florid Gothic," but this is probably for want of a better name. There is no other piece of architecture like it in the world. It is a medley of all architectures, the Egyptian, Grecian, Roman, and Saracenic being intermingled with all kinds of decorations and designs, some exquisitely beautiful and others quaint and even grotesque. There are thirteen different varieties of the arch. The owner, who possessed great wealth, desired novelty. He secured it by engaging architects and builders from all parts of Europe. The most beautiful feature of the interior is known as the "'Prentice's Pillar." It is a column with richly carved spiral wreaths of beautiful foliage twined about from floor to ceiling. It is said that the master-builder, when he came to erect this column, found himself unable to carry out the design, and traveled to Rome to see a column of similar description there. When he returned he found that his apprentice had studied the plans in his absence and with greater genius than his own, had overcome the difficulties and fashioned a pillar more beautiful than any ever before dreamed of. The master, stung with jealous rage, struck the apprentice with his mallet, killing him instantly. This, at least, is the accepted legend.

The barons of Roslin were buried beneath the chapel side by side, encased in their full suits of armor. There was a curious superstition that when one of the family died, the chapel was enveloped in flames, but not consumed. This and the "uncoffined chiefs" are referred to by Scott in "The Lay of the Last Minstrel." The lady is lost in the storm while crossing the Firth on her way to Roslin:--

"O'er Roslin all that dreary night
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;
'Twas broader than the watch-fire light,
And redder than the bright moonbeam.

"It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
It ruddied all the copsewood glen;
'Twas seen from Dreyden's groves of oak,
And seen from caverned Hawthornden.

"Seemed all on fire that chapel proud
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie,
Each baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.

"Seemed all on fire within, around,
Deep sacristy and altar's pale;
Shone every pillar foliage-bound,
And glimmered all the dead men's mail.

"Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair--
So still they blaze when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high St. Clair.

"There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle;
Each one the holy vault doth hold--
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle."

Commemorated by a tablet in the chapel is another interesting legend. Robert Bruce, King of Scotland, in following the chase on Pentland Hills near Roslin, had often started "a white faunch deer" which invariably escaped from his hounds. In his vexation he asked his nobles whether any of them had hounds which would likely be more successful. All hesitated for fear that the mere suggestion of possessing dogs superior to those of the king might be an offense. But Sir William St. Clair (one of the predecessors of the builder of the chapel) boldly and unceremoniously came forward and said he would wager his head that his two favorite dogs Hold and Help would kill the deer before it could cross the March burn. The king promptly accepted the rash wager, and betted the forest of Pentland Moor.

The hunters reach the heathern steeps and Sir William, posting himself
in the best situation for slipping his dogs, prayed devoutly to
Christ, the Virgin Mary, and St. Katherine. The deer is started, the
hounds are slipped; when Sir William spurs his gallant steed and
cheers the dogs. The deer reaches the middle of the March-burn brook,
the hounds are still in the rear, and our hero's life is at its
crisis. An awful moment; the hunter threw himself from his horse in
despair and Fate seemed to sport with his feelings. At the critical
moment Hold fastened on the game, and Help coming up, turned the deer
back and killed it close by Sir William's side. The generous monarch
embraced the knight and bestowed on him the lands of Kirktown, Logan
House, Earnsham, etc., in free forestrie.[4]

The grateful Sir William erected a chapel to St. Katherine, at the spot, to commemorate the saint's intervention.

One more tale of Roslin remains to be told. Not far away, on Roslin Moor, occurred one of the famous battles of Scottish history. There were really three battles, all fought in one day, the 24th of February, 1303. Three divisions of the English army, consisting of thirty thousand men, were successively attacked by the valiant Scots with only ten thousand men, who, after overpowering the first division, attacked the second, and then the third, defeating all three in the same day.

And so, with history and legend, poetry and romance, real life and fiction, the glory of nature's art and the achievements of human handicraft all happily intermingled in our thought and blended into one pleasant memory, we brought to its close our walk through the valley of the Esk, from Hawthornden to Roslin Glen.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Maitland's _History of Scotland_.

[3] From an old manuscript, in the Advocates' Library, collection of
Richard Augustine Hay.

[4] Britton's _Architectural Antiquities_.

V

THE COUNTRY OF MRS. HUMPHRY WARD

V

THE COUNTRY OF MRS. HUMPHRY WARD

I

MRS. WARD AND HER WORK

"'Why does any one stay in England who _can_ make the trip to Paradise?' said the duchess, as she leaned lazily back in the corner of the boat and trailed her fingers in the waters of Como."

These words from "Lady Rose's Daughter" came to mind as we glided swiftly in a little motor-boat, late in the afternoon of a perfect April day, over the smooth waters of Como and into the arm of the lake known as Lecco, where we were to enjoy our cup of tea in a little _latteria_ high up on a rocky crag. In the stern sat Mrs. Ward, looking the picture of contentment, a light summer hat with simple trimmings giving an almost girlish aspect to a face in which strong intellectuality and depth of moral purpose were clearly the predominating features. A day's work done,--for Mrs. Ward goes to Como for work, not play,--this little trip across the lake was one of her favorite recreations, in which, for the time, we were hospitably permitted to share. About us were the scenes "enchanted, incomparable," which are best described in the words of Mrs. Ward herself:--

When Spring descends upon the shores of the Lago di Como, she brings
with her all the graces, all the beauties, all the fine, delicate, and
temperate delights of which earth and sky are capable, and she pours
them forth upon a land of perfect loveliness. Around the shores of
other lakes--Maggiore, Lugano, Garda--blue mountains rise and the
vineyards spread their green and dazzling terraces to the sun. Only
Como can show in unmatched union a main composition, incomparably
grand and harmonious, combined with every jeweled or glowing or
exquisite detail. Nowhere do the mountains lean towards each other in
such an ordered splendor as that which bends around the northern
shores of Como. Nowhere do buttressed masses rise behind each other,
to right and left of a blue waterway, in lines statelier or more noble
than those kept by the mountains of Lecco Lake as they marshal
themselves on either hand, along the approaches to Lombardy and
Venetia.

... And within this divine framework, between the glistening snows
which still, in April, crown and glorify the heights, and those
reflections of them which lie encalmed in the deep bosom of the lake,
there's not a foot of pasture, not a shelf of vineyard, not a slope of
forest, where the spring is not at work, dyeing the turf with
gentians, starring it with narcissuses, or drawing across it the first
golden network of the chestnut leaves; where the mere emerald of the
grass is not in itself a thing to refresh the very springs of being;
where the peach-blossom and the wild cherry and the olive are not
perpetually weaving patterns on the blue which ravish the very heart
out of your breast. And already the roses are beginning to pour over
the wall; the wistaria is climbing up the cypresses; a pomp of
camellias and azaleas is in all the gardens; while in the glassy bays
that run up into the hills the primrose banks still keep their sweet
austerity, and the triumph of spring over the just banished winter is
still sharp and new.

It was in a garden such as this, with a wild cherry tree and olives "perpetually weaving patterns" against the blue sky, that we first met Mrs. Ward. It was a balmy April morning. The scent of spring was in the air, and the birds were adding their melody to the beauty of the landscape. The villa stands well up the slope of a high hill and is reached by a winding path through fragrant trees. A little below the level of the house is a shady nook, well sheltered from the sun, from which the high mountains of the north and the blue glimmer of the lake beneath can be plainly seen. Here we were greeted by the novelist in terms of cordiality that instantly made us "feel at home." There was no posing, none of that condescension which some writers had led us to expect. We were simply welcomed as friends, with a perfect hospitality that seemed to be born of the tranquil beauty all about us.

Mrs. Ward is a woman of rather more than medium height and of erect and graceful carriage. Her manner is dignified, but it is the dignity of one properly conscious of her own strength and is never repellent. One cannot help feeling that he is in the presence of a distinguished person--one who has justly earned a world-wide fame--and yet one in whom the attributes of true womanliness reign supreme. You are proud of the honor of her friendship, and yet you cannot help thinking what an excellent neighbor she would be.

The instinct which impels Mrs. Ward to seek such scenes of beauty as Lake Como in which to do her writing came to her naturally, for her childhood was spent in one of the most beautiful parts of all England, Westmoreland, the home of Wordsworth and of Ruskin. Here "Arnold of Rugby" made his home in a charmingly situated cottage known as Fox How. "Fox," in the language of Westmoreland, means "fairy," and "how" is "hill." A "fairy hill" indeed it must have seemed to Dr. Arnold's little granddaughter Mary, when as a child of five she was brought there by her father from far-away Tasmania, where she was born. The English Lakes are famous for their beauty, but there is no more delightful spot in all the region than the valley "under Loughrigg," and no lovelier river than the Rothay, rippling over the smooth pebbles from Wordsworth's beloved Rydal Water down to the more pretentious grandeur of Lake Windermere. The impressions of her childhood created in the future novelist an intense love of these streams and mountains, which only increased with her absence and the enlargement of her field of vision. When she was the mother of a little girl of seven and a boy of four, she determined to give to them the same impressions which had delighted her own childhood, and the family made an ever-memorable visit from Oxford, where they were then living, to the vicinity of Fox How--a visit which all children may enjoy who will read the pretty little story of "Milly and Olly."

Mary Augusta Arnold was born in Tasmania on the 11th of June, 1851. Her father, Thomas Arnold, second son of Dr. Arnold of Rugby and brother of Matthew Arnold, was at that time Inspector of Schools in the far-away island. He had married the granddaughter of Colonel Sorell, a former Governor of Tasmania, and no doubt intended to remain there permanently. But, becoming interested, even at that distance, in the so-called "Oxford Movement" of the middle of the last century, he determined to return to England, where he followed Newman and others into the Roman Catholic Church, accepting a professorship of English Literature in the Catholic University of Dublin. His daughter Mary, the eldest of six, was sent to Ambleside to be educated. In 1865, having renounced the Catholic faith, Mr. Arnold took up his residence at Oxford. Here his eldest daughter, at the age of fourteen, came under the influence of the friendships and associations which were to have so potent an influence upon her future career. The most important of these were Professor Mark Pattison and the Bodleian Library. Professor Pattison strongly urged her to specialize her studies, and acting upon his suggestion, she learned the Spanish language and began a course of study in Spanish literature and history, in which she found the facilities of the Bodleian Library invaluable. In 1872 she became the wife of Mr. Thomas Humphry Ward, then a fellow and tutor in Brasenose College. During the ensuing ten or eleven years Mrs. Ward assisted her husband in his literary work and contributed largely to the "Pall Mall Gazette," the "Saturday Review," the "Academy," and other magazines, besides publishing the little book for children already referred to, "Milly and Olly."

In 1881 Mr. Ward accepted a position on the staff of the "Times," and the family removed to London. For several years they occupied a house in Russell Square, which Mrs. Ward still regards with fond memories, later removing to their present town house, No. 25 Grosvenor Place. But Mrs. Ward's love of nature is too intense for an uninterrupted residence in London, and she possesses an ideal country home some thirty miles away, near the little village of Aldbury, known as "Stocks." This large and beautiful estate is ancient enough to be mentioned in "Domesday Book." Its name does not come from the old "stocks" used as an instrument of punishment, which may still be seen in the village, although this is a common supposition. "Stocks" is derived from the German "stock," meaning stick or tree, and refers to the magnificent grove by which the house is surrounded.

Before Stocks became a possibility, Mrs. Ward usually managed to choose a summer home in the country, and these choices are most interestingly reflected in her novels. During the Oxford residence Surrey was a favorite resort for seven years, its atmosphere entering largely into the composition of "Miss Bretherton" and "Robert Elsmere." Two nights spent at a farm on the Kinderscout gave ample material for the opening chapter of the "History of David Grieve." The lease for a season of Hampden House, in Buckinghamshire, gave the original for Mellor Park in "Marcella," and a visit near Crewe fixed the scenes of "Sir George Tressady." "Helbeck of Bannisdale" was the result of a summer spent in the delightful home of Captain Bagot, of Levens Hall, near Kendal. Summers in Italy and Switzerland gave most charming scenery for "Lady Rose's Daughter" and "Eleanor," and, to a less degree, "The Marriage of William Ashe." The cottage of her youngest daughter, Dorothy, near the Langdale Pikes, suggested the home of Fenwick, while Diana Mallory found her home in Stocks itself. Thus the creatures of Mrs. Ward's fancy have simply lived in the places which she knew the best. They are all scenes of beauty, for Mrs. Ward loves the beautiful in nature, and has spent her life where this yearning could be most fully gratified.

But if Mrs. Ward seeks the country as the best place for literary work, she is not idle when in the city. If any one imagines her to be merely a society woman with a genius for literature, he is making a serious mistake. Outside of society and literature she is a busy woman, bent on the accomplishment of a task which few would have the courage to assume. Her ideal is best expressed in the closing words of "Robert Elsmere":--

The New Brotherhood still exists, and grows. There are many who
imagined that, as it had been raised out of the earth by Elsmere's
genius, so it would sink with him. Not so! He would have fought the
struggle to victory with surpassing force, with a brilliancy and
rapidity none after him could rival. But the struggle was not his. His
effort was but a fraction of the effort of the race. In that effort,
and in the Divine force behind it, is our trust, as was his.

These words, written nearly a quarter of a century ago, were truly prophetic. For Mrs. Ward not only possesses the kind of genius from which an Elsmere could be created, but is gifted with a rare capacity for business, which has enabled her to crystallize the ideals of her work of fiction into a substantial and permanent institution for practical benevolence. She was already interested in "settlement" work among the poor of London during the writing of the novel. But in 1891, after the storm of criticism which the book aroused had subsided, its suggestions began to take definite shape in the organization of the Passmore Edwards Settlement, in University Hall, in Gordon Square. In 1898 the work was moved to its present quarters in Tavistock Place, where, under the leadership of Mrs. Ward and through the generosity of herself and the friends whom she had been able to influence, a large and substantial building was erected. Directly in the rear of the building is a large garden owned by the Duke of Bedford, who recently placed it at the disposal of the Settlement, keeping it in order at his own expense, resowing the grass every year to keep it fresh and thick. Here in the vacation season one thousand children daily enjoy the luxury of sitting and walking on the grass, and that in the heart of central London. The garden occupies the site of Dickens's Tavistock House. One cannot help imagining the author of Little Nell sitting there in spirit while troops of happy London children pass in review. The land here placed entirely at the disposal of Mrs. Ward and the warden of the Settlement is worth not less than half a million dollars. Twenty-seven teachers, under the direction of a competent supervisor, give instruction in organized out-of-door exercises.

This was the first of the recreation schools or play centers. Handwork occupations, such as cooking--both for girls and boys--sewing, knitting, basket-work, carpentering, cobbling, clay modeling, painting and drawing; dancing combined with old English songs and nursery rhymes; musical drill and gymnastics; quiet games and singing games; acting; and a children's library of story-books and picture-books--these are the provisions which have been made for the fortunate children of that locality.

The entire purpose of such play centers is to rescue the children of the poor from the demoralization that results from being turned out to play after school hours in the streets and alleyways, where they are subjected to every kind of vile association and influence. The effects already noted by those in charge of the centers are improvement in manners, in thoughtfulness for the little ones, and in unselfishness; increase in regard for truth and honesty; the development of the instinct in all children to "make something"; the teaching that it is more enjoyable to play together in harmony than when obedience to a leader is refused. The success of this first experiment was so marked that gradually other centers were started in different parts of London. Liberal sums of money were placed in the hands of Mrs. Ward, who enlisted the support of the County Council to the extent of securing facilities in the public school buildings. The work has so far progressed that the total attendance last year[5] reached an aggregate of six hundred thousand. It is difficult to estimate from these figures how many children were affected, but, taking--at a guess--fifty times as the average attendance of each, this would mean that the lives of at least twelve thousand poor children were directly lifted up by this practical charity, and that as many more hard-working and anxious parents were indirectly benefited.

But Mrs. Ward will not be satisfied until the entire school population of London has been made to feel the influence of these play centers. Private beneficence, as she has plainly pointed out, can never solve the problem. "Private effort," said she in a well-known letter to the London "Times," "cannot deal with seven hundred and fifty thousand children, or even with three hundred thousand. If there is a serious and urgent need, if both the physique and the morale of our town children are largely at stake, and if private persons can only touch a fraction of the problem, what remains but to appeal to the public conscience?"

This is Mrs. Ward's way of "doing things." She does not appeal to public authority to accomplish an ideal without first finding a way and proving that it can be done. But, having clearly demonstrated her proposition at private expense, she does not rest content with the results so obtained, but pushes steadily forward toward the larger ideal, which can be realized only through public support.

But the recreation school is only a part of the work of the Passmore Edwards Settlement. During the daytime many of the rooms are used by the "Cripple Schools." Children who are suffering from spinal diseases, heart trouble, and deformities of various kinds which prevent attendance at the regular schools are daily brought to the Settlement in ambulances. Here the little ones do all kinds of kindergarten work, while the older ones are instructed in drawing, sewing, bent-iron work, and other suitable tasks. As an outgrowth of this school twenty-three cripple schools are now in operation in London.

But it is in the evening that the Passmore Edwards Settlement is seen to best advantage. There is a large library containing some three thousand volumes, which are kept in active use. On Monday nights two tables in this room are the centers of busy groups. These represent the "coal club," a businesslike charity of a very practical kind. The club buys a large quantity of coal in the summer-time, when it can be obtained cheapest. As a large consumer, it usually gets every possible concession. The members of this club can buy the coal in small quantities as wanted, or as they are able to pay for it, at any time during the year, at the summer price of one shilling one and a half pence per hundred weight (twenty-seven cents). If bought during the winter in the ordinary way, they would have to pay perhaps five or six pence more--a very substantial saving. Thrift is encouraged by allowing members to deposit small sums in the summer to apply against their winter purchases. Last year the club transacted a business equal to about $4300.

"The Poor Man's Lawyer" is another practical part of the work. Once each week free legal advice is given to all who ask it, and considerable money has been saved to people who, from ignorance and poverty, might have been imposed upon. The "Men's Club," the "Boys' Club," the "Factory Girls' Club," and the "Women's Club" are all actively engaged in performing the usual functions of such organizations. There is a gymnasium where boys and girls, men and women, all have their regular turns of systematic instruction.

An orchestra of a dozen pieces and a choral society of forty members, together with a dramatic society, give opportunity for many to take part in numerous concerts and entertainments. A large hall is the scene nearly every night of some kind of social amusement. The room is decorated with many pictures, all reproductions of the best works of art, while around the walls are placed busts in marble of Emerson, James Martineau, Dickens, Matthew Arnold, Benjamin Jowett, and Sir William Herschel--the gift of Mr. Passmore Edwards. There is a large stage for dramatic performances, drills, etc., with a piano and a good organ. There are tables where the members may play cards, smoke, or have light refreshments. On Sunday nights there are concerts or lectures. The whole atmosphere of the place is attractive to the men and women who frequent it. There is no obtrusive piety, no patronizing air, nothing to offend the pride of the poor man who values his self-esteem, yet all the influences of the place are elevating.

The whole spirit of the Settlement is expressed in these words, displayed in a framed notice at the entrance to the social hall:--

We believe that many changes in the conditions of life and labour are
needed, and are coming to pass; but we believe also that men, without
any change except in themselves and in their feelings towards one
another, might make this world a better and a happier place.

Therefore, with the same sympathies but different experiences of life,
we meet to exchange ideas and to discuss social questions, in the hope
that, as we learn to know one another better, a feeling of fellowship
may arise among us.

To these ends we have a Library, Clubs, Lectures, Classes,
Entertainments, etc., and we endeavour to make the Settlement a centre
where we may unite our several resources in a social and intellectual
home.

In all this work Mrs. Humphry Ward is the inspiration, and a moving, active spirit. Her name stands next to that of the wealthy Duke of Bedford as the most liberal contributor. She is the Honorable Secretary of the Council, a member of the Finance Committee, president of the Women's Club, etc. But these are only her official positions. Her directing hand is manifest in every branch of the work, and, from the warden down to the humblest member of the Girls' Club, her name is accorded a respect amounting almost to reverence.

But, as with the play centers, Mrs. Ward is not content with the work of this one institution, splendid as it is. To her it is only the means of ascertaining the way. She feels that she is dealing with a great problem, and her method is to ascertain, first of all, the best solution, and then to use her large influence to induce others to take up the work. Thus the "New Brotherhood" of Robert Elsmere has not only continued to exist for a quarter of a century, but has in it the elements of growth which will make it a vital power in human society long after the real Robert Elsmere, in the person of Mrs. Ward, has ceased to be the directing force.

II

THE REAL ROBERT ELSMERE

In seeking to point out the real persons and places of Mrs. Ward's novels, it is only fair to the author to begin with her own statement as to the story-teller's method of procedure:--

An idea, a situation, is suggested to him by real life, he takes
traits and peculiarities from this or that person whom he has known or
seen, but that is all. When he comes to write ... the mere necessities
of an imaginative effort oblige him to cut himself adrift from
reality. His characters become to him the creatures of a dream, as
vivid often as his waking life, but still a dream. And the only
portraits he is drawing are portraits of phantoms, of which the germs
were present in reality, but to which he himself has given voice,
garb, and action.

It is my purpose to point out some of these "germs of reality" in Mrs. Ward's work, relying for the essential facts, at least, upon information given me personally by the novelist herself. For Mrs. Ward does not hesitate to admit that certain characters were drawn from real life; but she insists upon a proper understanding of the exact sense in which this is true. Because "Miss Bretherton" was suggested by the career of Mary Anderson it does not follow that all that is said of the former is true of the latter. There is a vast difference between a "suggestion" and a "portrait." The thoughts and feelings or the personal characteristics of a certain individual may suggest a character who in his physical aspects, his environment, and the events of his career may be conceived as an individual totally different. Mrs. Ward's novels contain no portraits and no history. But they abound in characters suggested by people whom she has known, in incidents and reminiscences of real life, and in vivid word-pictures of scenes which she has learned to love or of places with which she is personally familiar.

A study of the scenery of these novels properly begins in the County of Surrey. About four miles southwest of Godalming is Borough Farm, an old-fashioned brick house, which we reached by a drive over country that seemed in places almost like a desert--so wild and forsaken that one could scarcely believe it to be within a few miles of some of the busiest suburbs of London. But it has a splendid beauty of its own. The thick gorse with its golden blossoms everywhere waves a welcome. There are now and then great oaks to greet you, and graceful patches of white birch. And everywhere is a delightfully exhilarating sense of freedom and fresh air such as only this kind of open country can suggest. Here Mrs. Ward lived for seven summers, finding in the country round about some of the most interesting of the scenes of her first novel, "Miss Bretherton," and of "Robert Elsmere."

"Miss Bretherton" was published in 1884. Mary Anderson was at that time the reigning success on the London stage, while Sarah Bernhardt, in Paris, was startling the world with an art of a totally different character. The beauty of the young American actress was the one subject of conversation. Was it her beauty that attracted the crowds to the theater, and that alone? Was she totally lacking in that consummate art which the great Frenchwoman admittedly possessed? These questions suggested to Mrs. Ward the theme of her first attempt at fiction. The beautiful Miss Bretherton is taken in hand by a party of friends representing the highest types of culture. In their effort to give her mind and body much-needed rest from the exactions of London society she is carried away on two notable excursions. The first is to Surrey, the real scene of this outing being a place near Borough Farm called "Forked Pond," well known to Mrs. Ward and her family while residents at the farm. The other is to Oxford, where, after admiring the colleges, which brought many happy recollections to the gentlemen of the party, Miss Bretherton is taken to Nuneham Park, a beautiful place on the river where a small rustic bridge enhances the romantic character of the surroundings. This, of course, was familiar ground to the author, who spent sixteen happy years in that vicinity as a resident of Oxford. Through the kindness of these friends, and particularly by the influence of Kendal, who becomes her lover, Miss Bretherton is made to take a new view of her art, and is transformed into an actress of real dramatic power.

Although a charming story, "Miss Bretherton" did not prove successful and had little part in making the reputation of the novelist, who is likely to be known as "the author of 'Robert Elsmere,'" so long as her fame shall endure. For this great book created a sensation throughout the English-speaking world when it appeared, and aroused controversies which did not subside for many years.

The scenery of "Robert Elsmere" combines the Westmoreland which Mrs. Ward learned to love in her childhood with the Oxford of her girlhood and early married life, and the Surrey where so many pleasant summers were spent. Not wishing, for fear of recognition, to describe the country near Ambleside, with which she was most familiar, Mrs. Ward placed the scenes of the opening chapters in the neighboring valley of Long Sleddale, giving it the name of Long Whindale. Whinborough is the city of Kendal, and the village of Shanmoor is Kentmere. Burwood Farm, where the Leyburns lived, is a house far up the valley, which still "peeps through the trees" at the passer-by just as it did in the days when Robert Elsmere first met the saintly Catherine there. A few hundred yards down the stream is a little stone church across the road from a small stone schoolhouse, and next to the school a gray stone vicarage, standing high above the little river, all three bearing the date 1863. At sight of this group of buildings one almost expects to catch a glimpse of the well-meaning but not over-wise Mrs. Thornburgh, sitting in the shade of the vicarage, awaiting the coming of old John Backhouse, the carrier, with the anxiously expected consignment of "airy and appetizing trifles" from the confectioner's.

At the extreme end of the valley the road abruptly comes to an end. A stone bridge leads off to the left to a group of three small farms. In front no sign of human habitation meets the eye. The hills seem to come together, forming a kind of bowl, and there is no sound to break the stillness save the ripple of the river. It was to this lonely spot that Catherine was in the habit of walking, quite alone, to visit the dying Mary Backhouse. The house of John and Jim Backhouse where Mary died may still be seen. It is the oldest of the three farms above mentioned. A very small cottage, it is wedged between a stable on one side and a sort of barn or storehouse on the other, so that from the road before crossing the bridge it seems to be quite pretentious. The house dates back to 1670. Mary Backhouse never existed except in imagination, but Mrs. Ward, upon seeing the photograph of the house, exclaimed with much satisfaction, "Yes, that is the very house where Mary Backhouse died." So real to her are the events described in her novels that Mrs. Ward frequently refers to the scenes in this way. Behind the house is a very steep hill, covered with trees and rough stones. It was over this hill that Robert and Catherine walked on the night of Mary Backhouse's death. Readers of "Robert Elsmere" will remember that poor Mary was the victim of a strange hallucination. On the night of Midsummer Day, one year before, she had seen the ghost or "bogle" of "Bleacliff Tarn." To see the ghost was terror enough, but to be spoken to by it was the sign of death within a year. And Mary had both seen and been spoken to by the ghost. Her mind, so far as she had one, for she was really half-insane, was concentrated on the one horrible thought--that on Midsummer Night she must die. The night had at last arrived, and Catherine, true to her charitable impulses, was there to comfort the dying girl.

The weather was growing darker and stormier; the wind shook the house in gusts, and the farther shoulder of High Fell was almost hidden by the trailing rain-clouds. But Catherine feared nothing when a human soul was in need, and, hoping to pacify the poor woman, volunteered to go out to the top of the Fell and over the very track of the ghost at the precise hour when she was supposed to walk, to prove that there was nothing near "but the dear old hills and the power of God." As she opened the door of the kitchen, Catherine was surprised to find Robert Elsmere there, and together they set out, over the rough, stony path, facing the wind and rain as they climbed the distant fell-side. There Robert pleaded his love against Catherine's stern sense of duty, and won.

When Robert and Catherine were married, they went to live at the Rectory of Murewell, in Surrey. This old house is at Peper Harow, three miles west of Godalming and a mile or so from Borough Farm. It was leased for one summer by Mrs. Ward. A plain, square house of stone, much discolored by the weather, it could hardly be called attractive in itself. But stepping back to the road, with its picturesque stone wall surmounted by foliage, and viewing the house as it appears from there, flanked on the left by a fine spreading elm and on the right by a tall, pointed fir and a cluster of oaks, with a little flower garden under the windows and the gracefully curving walk leading past the door in a semicircle stretching from gate to gate, the ugly house is transformed into a home of beauty, where Robert and Catherine, one can well imagine, might have been quite happy and contented with their surroundings.

In the rear of the house is the garden, famous for its phloxes, the scene of many walks and family confidences. At the farther end is the gate where Langham poured out the story of his life in passionate speech, impelled by the equally passionate sympathy of Rose, only to recall himself a moment later, "the critic in him making the most bitter, remorseless mock of all these heroics and despairs the other self had been indulging in."

Only a short walk from the Rectory is the little church of Peper Harow, the scene of Robert's early clerical labors, and further on is the large and beautiful Peper Harow Park, the present home of Lord Middleton. This attractive park is the original of Squire Wendover's, but the house itself is not described. The fine library owned by the Squire, which so delighted Robert Elsmere with its many rare books, was in reality the famous Bodleian Library of Oxford, with which the author became familiar very early in life.

Three characters from real life, each a man of marked individuality, stand out prominently in the pages of "Robert Elsmere." These are Professor Mark Pattison, whose strong personality and scholarly attainments suggested Squire Wendover; Professor Thomas H. Green, the original of Mr. Grey; and the melancholy Swiss philosopher, poet, and dreamer Amiel, who was the prototype of Langham.

The theme of the novel is the development of Robert Elsmere's character and the gradual change of his religious views, brought about through many a bitter struggle. In this the principal influence was that of Roger Wendover, a typical English squire of large possessions, but, in addition, a scholar of the first rank, the possessor of a large library filled with rare and important volumes of history, philosophy, science, and religion, with the contents of which he was thoroughly familiar, and an author of two great books, one of which had stirred up a tremendous excitement in the circles of English religious thought.

The Pentateuch, the Prophets, the Gospels, St. Paul, Tradition, the
Fathers, Protestantism and Justification by Faith, the Eighteenth
Century, the Broad Church Movement, Anglican Theology--the Squire had
his say about them all. And while the coolness and frankness of the
method sent a shock of indignation and horror through the religious
public, the subtle and caustic style, and the epigrams with which the
book was strewn, forced both the religious and the irreligious public
to read, whether they would or no. A storm of controversy rose round
the volumes, and some of the keenest observers of English life had
said at the time, and maintained since, that the publication of the
book had made or marked an epoch.

Against the influence of such a book, and more particularly against a growing intimacy with its author, Robert Elsmere felt himself as helpless as a child. The squire's talk "was simply the outpouring of one of the richest, most skeptical, and most highly trained of minds on the subject of Christian origins." His two books were, he said, merely an interlude in his life-work, which had been devoted to an "exhaustive examination of human records" in the preparation of a great History of Testimony which had required learning the Oriental languages and sifting and comparing the entire mass of existing records of classical antiquity--India, Persia, Egypt, and Judea--down to the Renaissance.

Reference has already been made to the influence of Professor Mark Pattison upon the early life of Mrs. Ward. To create the Squire she had only to imagine the house in the great park of Peper Harow, equipped with a library like the Bodleian, and inhabited by a person who might be otherwise like any English squire, but in mental equipment a duplicate to some extent of the Rector of Lincoln. Professor Pattison's father was a strict evangelical. He gave his son a good education, and the boy early manifested a delight in literature and learning. He soon developed an independence of character, and, refusing to confine his reading to the prescribed books of orthodoxy, delved into the classics extensively as well as the English literature of Pope, Addison, and Swift. He was graduated at Oxford in 1836, and took his M.A. degree in 1840. By this time he had abandoned the evangelical teachings of his youth, and with other young men came under the influence of Newman, in whose house he went to live. When Newman went into the Roman Catholic Church in 1845, Pattison was not so much shocked as others. Indeed, he confessed that he "might have dropped off to Rome himself in some moment of mental and physical depression or under pressure of some arguing convert." But Pattison, who was now a Fellow at Lincoln College, was thoroughly devoted to his work and was fast gaining a great reputation, not only for his magnetic influence upon young men, but as one of the ablest of college tutors and lecturers. In 1861 he became Rector of Lincoln. He was an indefatigable writer, contributing to many magazines and to the "Encyclopaedia Britannica." An article on "Tendencies of Religious Thought in England, 1688-1750" aroused widespread comment. His literary work was marked by evidences of most painstaking research coupled with a profound scholarship and excellent judgment in the arrangement of his material. He devoted a lifetime to the preparation of a history of learning--a stupendous undertaking of which only a portion was ever completed. He possessed a library said to be the largest private collection of his time in Oxford. It numbered fourteen thousand volumes, and was extraordinarily complete in books on the history of learning and philosophy in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries. Of Professor Pattison's personality his biographer says:--

Under a singularly stiff and freezing manner to strangers and to those
whom he disliked he concealed a most kindly nature, full of geniality
and sympathy and a great love of congenial and especially of female
society. But it was in his intercourse with his pupils and generally
with those younger than himself that he was seen to most advantage.
His conversation was marked by a delicate irony. His words were few
and deliberate but pregnant with meaning and above all stimulating,
and their effect was heightened by perhaps too frequent and,
especially to undergraduates, somewhat embarrassing flashes of
silence.

All these qualities are continually appearing in the Squire. But Professor Pattison's own definition of a man of learning is the best description of Roger Wendover:--

Learning is a peculiar compound of memory, imagination, scientific
habit, accurate observation, all concentrated through a prolonged
period on the analysis of the remains of literature. The result of
this sustained mental endeavor is not a book, but a man. It cannot be
embodied in print; it consists of the living word.

The second in importance of the potent influences upon Robert Elsmere's character was that of Henry Grey, a tutor of St. Anselm's (Balliol College), Oxford. Very early in his Oxford career Elsmere was taken to hear a sermon by Mr. Grey, which made a deep impression on his mind. The substance of this sermon, which is briefly summarized in the novel, was taken from a volume of lay sermons by Professor Thomas Hill Green, entitled "The Witness of God."

The whole basis of Grey's thought was ardently idealist and Hegelian.
He had broken with the popular Christianity, but for him God,
consciousness, duty, were the only realities. None of the various
forms of materialist thought escaped his challenge; no genuine
utterance of the spiritual life of man but was sure of his sympathy.
It was known that, after having prepared himself for the Christian
ministry, he had remained a layman because it had become impossible to
him to accept miracle; and it was evident that the commoner type of
Churchmen regarded him as an antagonist all the more dangerous because
he was so sympathetic.

All of this, like all the other references to Grey throughout the book, applies perfectly to Professor Green. He was the leading exponent at Oxford of the principles of Kant and Hegel, and attracted many followers. His simplicity, power, and earnestness commanded respect. He associated with his pupils on terms of friendly intimacy, frequently taking some of them with him on his vacations. He was a man of singularly lofty character, and those who knew him were reminded of Wordsworth, whom he resembled in some ways.

When Elsmere is advised by his friend Newcome to solve all the problems of his doubt by trampling upon himself, flinging away his freedom, and stifling his intellect, these words of Henry Grey flash upon his mind:--

God is not wisely trusted when declared unintelligible. Such honor
rooted in dishonor stands; such faith unfaithful makes us falsely
true.

God is forever reason; and his communication, his revelation, is
reason.

The words are taken from the same volume of Professor Green's sermons.