{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_17120/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_17120","id":"gutenberg_17120","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17120","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Humour","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","English literature -- 19th century"],"text":"Transcribed from the 1887 William Blackwood and Sons edition by David\nPrice, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk\n\n\n\n\n\nFASHIONABLE PHILOSOPHY AND OTHER SKETCHES\n\n\n[Title page: title.jpg]\n\nBY LAURENCE OLIPHANT\n\nAUTHOR OF\n'PICCADILLY,' 'ALTIORA PETO,' 'MASOLLAM,' ETC.\n\nWILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS\nEDINBURGH AND LONDON\nMDCCCLXXXVII\n\nPRICE ONE SHILLING\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThat railway travel is not, as a rule, conducive to serious thought, may\nfairly be inferred from the class of literature displayed on the\nbookstalls at the stations.  I have therefore refrained from any attempt\nto excite the reflective faculties of the reader, excepting in the first\nand third of the accompanying sketches, and even in these have only\nventured to suggest ideas, the full scope and pregnancy of which it must\nbe left to his own idiosyncrasy to appreciate and develop, the more\nespecially as they bear upon a certain current of investigation which has\nrecently become popular.\n\nI have to express my thanks to the Editor of the 'Nineteenth Century\nReview' for the kind permission he has granted me to reproduce \"The\nSisters of Thibet\"; and I avail myself of the opportunity thus afforded\nof removing the impression which, to my surprise, was conveyed to me by\nletters from numerous correspondents, that the article contained any\nrecord of my own personal experiences.  The satire was suggested by the\nwork of an author whose sincerity I do not doubt, and for whose motives I\nhave the highest respect, in order to point out what appears to me the\ndefective morality, from an altruistic and practical point of view, of a\nsystem of which he is the principal exponent in this country, and which,\nunder the name of Esoteric Buddhism, still seems to possess some\nfascination for a certain class of minds.\n\nThe other articles originally appeared in 'Blackwood's Magazine,' and I\nwish to express my acknowledgments to my publishers for their usual\ncourtesy in allowing me to republish them in this form.\n\nATHENAEUM CLUB,\n_January_ 1887.\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nFashionable Philosophy\nThe Brigand's Bride: a tale of Southern Italy\nThe Sisters of Thibet\nAdolphus: a comedy of affinities\n\n\n\n\nFASHIONABLE PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\nSCENE--_A London Drawing-room_. TIME--5 _o'clock_ P.M.\n\n_The afternoon tea apparatus in one corner of the room_, _and_ Lady\nFritterly _on a couch in another_.  The Hon. Mrs Allmash _is announced_.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  How too kind, dear, of you to come, and so early, too!\nI've got such a lot of interesting people coming, and we are going to\ndiscuss the religion of the future.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  How quite delightful!  I do so long for something more\nsubstantial than the theologies of the past!  It is becoming quite\npuzzling to know what to teach one's children: mine are getting old\nenough now to understand about things, and one ought to teach them\nsomething.  I was talking about it to that charming Professor Germsell\nlast night.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Well, I hope he is coming presently, so you will be\nable to continue your conversation.  Then there is Mr Coldwaite, the\ncelebrated Comtist; and Mr Fussle, who writes those delightful articles\non prehistoric aesthetic evolution; and Mr Drygull, the eminent\ntheosophist, whose stories about esoteric Buddhism are quite too\nextraordinary, and who has promised to bring a Khoja--a most interesting\nmoral specimen, my dear--who has just arrived from Bombay; and Lord\nFondleton.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  Lord Fondleton!  I did not know that he was interested in\nsuch subjects.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  He says he is, dear; between ourselves--but this, of\ncourse, is strictly _entre nous_--I rather think that it is I who\ninterest him: but I encourage him, poor fellow; it may wean him from the\nunprofitable life he is leading, and turn his mind to higher things.  Oh!\nI almost forgot,---then there is my new beauty!\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  Your new beauty!\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Yes; if you could only have dined with me the other\nnight, you would have met her.  I had such a perfect little dinner.  Just\nthink!  A poet, an actor, a journalist, a painter, a wit, and a new\nbeauty.  I'll tell you how I found her.  She really belongs at present to\nLady Islington and myself; but of course, now we have started her, all\nthe other people will snap her up.  We found that we both owed that\nvulgar upstart, Mrs Houndsley, a visit, and went there together--because\nI always think two people are less easily bored than one--when suddenly\nthe most perfect apparition you ever beheld stood before us;--an old\nmaster dress, an immense pattern, a large hat rim encircling a face, some\nrich auburn hair inside, and the face a perfect one.  Well, you know, it\nturned out that she was not born in the purple--her husband is just a\nclerk in Burley's Bank; but we both insisted on being introduced to\nher--for, you see, my dear, there is no doubt about it, she is a ready-\nmade beauty.  The same idea occurred to Lady Islington, so we agreed as\nwe drove away that we would bring her out.  The result is, that she went\nto Islington House on Tuesday, and came to me on Thursday, and created a\nperfect furor on both occasions; so now she is fairly started.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  How wonderfully clever and fortunate you are, dear!  What\nis her name?\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Mrs Gloring.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  Oh yes; everybody was talking about her at the Duchess's\nlast night.  I am dying to see her; but they say that she is rather a\nfool.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Pure spite and jealousy.  Yet that is the way these\nChristian women of society obey the precept of their religion, and love\ntheir neighbours as themselves.\n\n[Lord Fondleton _is announced_, _accompanied by a stranger_.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  How d'ye do, Lady Fritterly?  I am sure you will\nexcuse my taking the liberty of introducing Mr Rollestone, a very old\nfriend of mine, to you; he has only just returned to England, after an\nabsence of so many years that he is quite a stranger in London.\n\n[Lady Fritterly _is_ \"_delighted_.\"  _The rest of the party arrive in\nrapid succession_.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  Dear Mr Germsell, I was just telling Lady Fritterly what\nan interesting conversation we were having last night when it was\nunfortunately interrupted.  I shall be so glad if you would explain more\nfully now what you were telling me.  I am sure everybody would be\ninterested.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Oh do, Mr Germsell; it would be quite too nice of you.\nAnd, Mr Drygull, will you ask the Khoja to--\n\n_Mr Drygull_.  My friend's name is Ali Seyyid, Lady Fritterly.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Pray excuse my stupidity, Mr Allyside, and come and\nsit near me.  Lord Fondleton, find Mrs Gloring a chair.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_ [_aside to_ Mrs Gloring].  Who's our black friend?\n\n_Mrs Gloring_.  I am sure I don't know.  I think Lady Fritterly called\nhim a codger.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  Ah, he looks like it,--and a rum one at that, as our\nAmerican cousins say.\n\n_Mrs Gloring_.  Hush!  Mr Germsell is going to begin.\n\n_Mr Germsell_.  Mrs Allmash asked me last night whether my thoughts had\nbeen directed to the topic which is uppermost just now in so many minds\nin regard to the religion of the future, and I ventured to tell her that\nit would be found to be contained in the generalised expediency of the\npast.\n\n_Mr Fussle_.  Pardon me, but the religion of the future must be the\nresult of an evolutionary process, and I don't see how generalisations of\npast expediency are to help the evolution of humanity.\n\n_Germsell_.  They throw light upon it; and the study of the evolutionary\nprocess so far teaches us how we may evolve in the future.  For instance,\nyou have only got to think of evolution as divided into moral,\nastronomic, geologic, biologic, psychologic, sociologic, aesthetic, and\nso forth, and you will find that there is always an evolution of the\nparts into which it divides itself, and that therefore there is but one\nevolution going on everywhere after the same manner.  The work of science\nhas been not to extend our experience, for that is impossible, but to\nsystematise it; and in that systematisation of it will be found the\nreligion of which we are in search.\n\n_Drygull_.  May I ask why you deem it impossible that our experience can\nbe extended?\n\n_Germsell_.  Because it has itself defined its limits.  The combined\nexperience of humanity, so far as its earliest records go, has been\nlimited by laws, the nature of which have been ascertained: it is\nimpossible that it should be transcended without violation of the\nconclusions arrived at by positive science.\n\n_Drygull_.  I can more easily understand that the conclusions arrived at\nby men of science should be limited, than that the experience of humanity\nshould be confined by those conclusions; but I fail to perceive why those\nphilosophers should deny the existence of certain human faculties,\nbecause they don't happen to possess them themselves.  I think I know a\nRishi who can produce experiences which would scatter all their\nconclusions to the winds, when the whole system which is built upon them\nwould collapse.\n\n_Mrs Gloring_ [_aside to_ Lord Fondleton].  Pray, Lord Fondleton, can you\ntell me what a Rishi is?\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  A man who has got into higher states, you know--what I\nheard Mr Drygull call a transcendentalist the other day, whatever that\nmay be.  I don't understand much about these matters myself, but I take\nit he is a sort of evolved codger.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  Oh, how awfully interesting!  Dear Mr Drygull, do tell us\nsome of the extraordinary things the Rishi can do.\n\n_Drygull_.  If you will only all of you listen attentively, and if Mr\nGermsell will have the goodness to modify to some degree the prejudiced\nattitude of mind common to all men of science, you will hear him as\nplainly as I can at this moment beating a tom-tom in his cottage in the\nHimalayas.\n\n[Mr Germsell _gets up impatiently_, _and walks to the other end of the\nback drawing-room_.\n\n_Drygull_ [_casting a compassionate glance after him_].  Perhaps it is\nbetter so.  Now please, Lady Fritterly, I must request a few moments of\nthe most profound silence on the part of all.  You will not hear the\nsound as though coming from a distance, but it will seem rather like a\nmuffled drumming taking place inside your head, scarcely perceptible at\nfirst, when its volume will gradually increase.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_ [_aside to_ Mrs Gloring].  Some bad champagne produced\nthe same phenomenon in my head last night.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_ [_severely_].  Hush!  Lord Fondleton.\n\n[_There is a dead silence for some minutes_.\n\n_Mrs Gloring_ [_excitedly_].  Oh, I hear it!  It is something like a\nwoodpecker inside of one.\n\n_Drygull_.  Not a word, my dear madam, if you please.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_ [_after a long pause_].  I imagine I hear a very faint\nsomething; there it goes--boom, boom, boom--at the back of my tympanum.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  That's not like a woodpecker.\n\n_Mrs Gloring_.  No; it seems to me more like tic-tic-tic.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  How too tiresome!  I can't hear anything.  I suppose it\nis on account of the rumble of the carriages.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_ [_whispers to_ Mrs Gloring].  I hear something inside of\nme; do you know what?\n\n_Mrs Gloring_.  No; what?\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  The beating of my own heart.  Can't you guess for\nwhom?\n\n_Mrs Gloring_.  No.  Perhaps the Rishi makes it beat.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  Dear Mrs Gloring, you are the Rishi for whom--\n\n_Mrs Gloring_.  Hush!\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  There, it is getting louder, like distant artillery,\nand yet so near.  Oh, Mr Drygull, what a wonderful man the Rishi must be!\n\n_Drygull_.  Yes; he knew that at this hour to-day I should need an\nillustration of his power, and he is kindly furnishing us with one.  This\nis an experience which I think our friend over there [_looking towards_\nMr Germsell] would find it difficult to classify.\n\n_Germsell_.  Fussle, have the goodness to step here for a moment--[_points\nto a woman beating a carpet in the back-yard of an adjoining house_].\nThat is the tom-tom in the Himalayas they are listening to.\n\n_Fussle_.  Well, now, do you know, I don't feel quite sure of that.  I\nwas certainly conscious of a sort of internal hearing of something when\nyou called me, which was not that; it was as though I had fiddlestrings\nin my head and somebody was beginning to strum upon them.\n\n_Germsell_.  Fiddlestrings indeed--say rather fiddlesticks.  I am\nsurprised at a sensible man like yourself listening to such nonsense.\n\n_Fussle_ [_testily_].  It is much greater nonsense for you to tell me I\ndon't hear something I do hear, than for me to hear something you can't\nhear.  You may be deaf, while my sense of hearing may be evolving.  Can\nyou hear what Lord Fondleton is saying to Mrs Gloring at this moment?\n\n_Germsell_.  No, and I don't want to.\n\n_Fussle_.  Ah, there it is.  You won't hear anything you don't want to.\nNow I can, and he ought not to say it;--look how she is blushing.  Oh, I\nforgot you are short-sighted.  Well, you see, I can hear further than\nyou, and see further than you.  Why should you set a limit on the\nevolution of the senses, and say that no man in the future can ever hear\nor see further than men have in the past?  How dare you, sir, with your\nimperfect faculties and your perfunctory method of research, which can\nonly cover an infinitesimal period in the existence of this planet,\nventure to limit the potentialities of those laws which have already\nconverted us from ascidians into men, and which may as easily evolve in\nus the faculty of hearing tom-toms in the Himalayas while we are sitting\nhere, as of that articulate speech or intelligent reasoning which, owing\nto their operation, we now possess?\n\n_Germsell_.  Pardon me, you do not possess them, Mr Fussle.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Mr Fussle, might I ask you to take this cup of tea to\nMrs Allmash?  Mr Germsell, it would be too kind of you to hand Mrs\nGloring the cake.\n\n_Fussle_ [_savagely_].  We will continue this conversation at the\nMinerva.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_ [_apart to the_ Khoja].  Oh, Mr Allyside, I am so glad to\nhear that you speak English so perfectly!  I want you to tell me all\nabout your religion; perhaps it may help us, you know, to find the\nreligion of the future, which we are all longing for.  And I am so\ninterested in oriental religions! there is something so charmingly\npicturesque about them.  I quite dote on those dear old Shastras, and\nVedas, and Puranas; they contain such a lot of beautiful things, you\nknow.\n\n_Ali Seyyid_.  I know as little, madam, of the Indian books you mention\nas I do of the Bible, which I have always heard was a very good book, and\ncontained also a great many beautiful things.  I am neither a Hindoo nor\na Buddhist,--in fact, it is forbidden to me by my religion to tell you\nexactly what I am.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  But indeed I won't tell anybody if you will only confide\nin me.  Oh, this mystery is too exquisitely delicious!  Who knows,\nperhaps you might make a convert of me?\n\n_Ali Seyyid_ [_with an admiring gaze_].  Madam, you would be a prize so\nwell worth winning, that you almost tempt me.  The first of our secrets\nis that we are all things to all men, until we are quite sure of the\nsympathy of the listener; then we venture a step further.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  How wise that is! and how unlike the system adopted by\nChristians!  You may be sure of my most entire sympathy.\n\n_Ali Seyyid_.  The next principle is--but this is a profound secret,\nwhich you must promise not to repeat--the rejection of all fixed rules of\nreligion or morality.  It really does not matter in the least what you\ndo: the internal disposition is the only thing of any value.  Now, as far\nas I understand, you have already got rid of the religion, or you would\nnot be looking for a new one; all you have to do is to get rid of the\nmorality, and there you are.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_ [_with an expression of horror and alarm_].  Yes, there I\nshould be indeed.  Oh, Mr Allyside, what a dreadful man you are!  Who\nstarted such an extraordinary doctrine?\n\n_Ali Seyyid_.  Well, his name was Hassan-bin-Saba--commonly known among\nWesterns as the \"Old Man of the Mountain.\"  His followers, owing to the\nvalue they attached to murder as a remedial agent, have been known by the\nname of the \"Assassins.\"\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  Oh, good gracious!\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  My dear Louisa, what is the matter?  You look quite\nfrightened.\n\n_Ali Seyyid_.  Mrs Allmash is a little alarmed because I proposed a new\nmorality for the future, as well as a new religion.\n\n_Mr Coldwaite_.  Excuse me; but in discussions of this sort, I think it\nis most important that we should clearly understand the meanings of the\nterms we employ.  Now I deny that any difference subsists between\nreligion and morality.  That any such distinction should exist in men's\nminds is due to the fact that dogma is inseparably connected with\nreligion.  If you eliminate dogma, what does religion consist of but\nmorality?  Substitute the love of Humanity for the love of the\nUnknowable--which is the subject of worship of Mr Germsell; or of the\nDeity, who is the object of worship of the majority of mankind--and you\nobtain a stimulus to morality which will suffice for all human need.  It\nis in this great emotion, as it seems to me, that you will find at once\nthe religion and the morality of the future.\n\n_Germsell_.  From what source do you get the force which enables you to\nlove humanity with a devotion so intense that it shall elevate your\npresent moral standard?\n\n_Coldwaite_.  From humanity itself.  I am not going to be entrapped into\ngetting it from any unknowable source; the love of humanity, whether it\nbe humanity as existing, or when absorbed by death into the general mass,\nis perpetually generating itself.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  Then it must produce itself from what was there before;\ntherefore it must be the same love, which keeps on going round and round.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  A sort of circular love, in fact.  I've often felt it:\nbut I didn't think it right to encourage it.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Lord Fondleton, how can you be so silly?  Don't pay\nattention to him, Mr Coldwaite.  I confess I still don't see how you can\nget a higher love out of humanity than humanity has already got in it,\nunless you are to look to some other source for it.\n\n_Coldwaite_.  Why, mayn't it evolve from itself?\n\n_Germsell_.  How can it evolve without a propulsive force behind it?  The\nthing is too palpable an absurdity to need argument.  You can no more fix\nlimits to the origin of force than you can destroy its persistency.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_ [_aside_].  That seems to me one of those sort of things\nno fellow can understand.\n\n_Germsell_.  All you can say of it is that it is a conditioned effect of\nan unconditioned cause.  That no idea or feeling arises, save as a result\nof some physical force expended in producing it, is fast becoming a\ncommonplace of science; and whoever duly weighs the evidence will see\nthat nothing but an overwhelming bias in favour of a preconceived theory\ncan explain its non-acceptance.  I think my friend Mr Herbert Spencer has\ndemonstrated this conclusively.\n\n_Coldwaite_.  Pardon me; do I understand you to say that the mental\nprocess which enabled Mr Spencer to elaborate his system of philosophy,\nor that the profound emotion which finds its expression in a love for\nhumanity, are the result of physical force alone?\n\n_Germsell_.  He says so himself, and he ought to know.  His whole system\nof philosophy is nothing more nor less than the result of the liberation\nof certain forces produced by chemical action in the brain.\n\n_Drygull_.  Then, if I understand you rightly, if the chemical changes\nwhich have been taking place for some years past in his brain had\nliberated a different set of forces, we should have had altogether a\ndifferent philosophy.\n\n_Germsell_.  The chemical changes would in that case have been different.\n\n_Drygull_.  But the changes must be produced by forces acting on them.\n\n_Germsell_.  Exactly: a force which has its source in the Unknowable\nproduces a certain chemical action in the brain by which it becomes\nconverted into thought or emotion, into love or philosophy, into art or\nreligion, as the case may be: what the nature of that love or philosophy,\nor art or religion, may be, must depend entirely on the nature of the\nchemical change.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_ [_aside to_ Mrs Gloring].  I feel the most delightful\nchemical changes taking place now in my brain, dear Mrs Gloring.  May I\nexplain to you the exquisite nature of the forces that are being\nliberated, and which produce emotions of the most tender character.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_ [_sharply_].  What are you saying, Lord Fondleton?\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  Ahem--I was saying--ahem--I was saying that we shall\nbe having some Yankee inventing steam thinking-mills and galvanic loving-\nbatteries soon.  What a lot of wear and tear it would save!  I should go\nabout covered with a number of electric love-wires for the force to play\nupon.\n\n_Fussle_.  I think this matter wants clearing up, Mr Germsell.  Why don't\nyou write a book on mental and emotional physics?\n\n_Mr Rollestone_.  I would venture with great diffidence to remark that\nthe confusion seems to me to arise from the limit we attach to the\nmeaning of the word employed.  It may be quite true that no idea or\nemotion can exist except as the result of physical force; but it is also\ntrue that its effect must be conditioned on the quality of the force.\nThere is as wide a difference between the physical forces operant in the\nbrain, and which give rise to ideas, and those which move a steam-engine,\nas there is between mind and matter as popularly defined.  Both, as Mr\nGermsell will admit, are conditioned manifestations of force; but the one\ncontains a vital element in its dynamism which the other does not.  You\nmay apply as much physical force by means of a galvanic battery to a dead\nbrain as you please, but you can't strike an idea out of it; and this\nvital force, while it is \"conditioned force,\" like light and heat,\ndiffers in its mode of manifestation from every other manifestation of\nforce, even more than they do from each other, in that it possesses a\npotency inherent to it, which they have not, and this potency it is which\ncreates emotion and generates ideas.  The fallacy which underlies the\nwhole of this system of philosophy is contained in the assumption that\nthere is only one description of physical force in nature.\n\n_Germsell_.  No more there is.  Why, Mr Spencer says that the law of\nmetamorphosis which holds among the physical forces, holds equally\nbetween them and the mental forces; but mark you, what is the grand\nconclusion at which he arrives?  I happen to remember the passage: \"How\nthis metamorphosis takes place; how a force existing, as motion, heat, or\nlight, can become a mode of consciousness; how it is possible for aerial\nvibrations to generate the sensation we call sound; or for the forces\nliberated by chemical changes in the brain to give rise to emotion,--these\nare mysteries which it is impossible to fathom.\"\n\n_Lord Fondleton_ [_aside to_ Mrs Gloring].  What a jolly easy way of\ngetting out of a difficulty!\n\n_Drygull_.  Of course, if you admit such gross ignorance as to how it is\npossible for aerial vibrations \"to generate the sensation we call sound,\"\nI don't wonder at your not hearing the tom-tom in the Himalayas we were\nlistening to just now.  If you knew a little more about the astral law\nunder which aerial vibrations may be generated, you would not call things\nimpossible which you admit to be unfathomable mysteries.  If it is an\nunfathomable mystery how a sound is projected a mile, why do you refuse\nto admit the possibility of its being projected two, or two hundred, or\ntwo thousand?  Under the laws which govern mysteries, which you say are\nunfathomable, if the mystery is unfathomable, so is the law, and you have\nno right to limit its action.\n\n_Rollestone_.  To come back to the question of a possible distinction in\nthe essential or inherent qualities of dynamic or physical forces.  There\nis nothing in the hypothesis which may not be reasonably assumed and\ntested by experiment; and before any man has a right to affirm that there\nis only one quality of physical force in nature, which, by undergoing\ntransformation and metamorphosis, shall account for all its phenomena, I\nhave a right to ask whether the hypothesis, that there may be another,\nhas been experimentally tested.  It would then be time for me to accept\nthe conclusion that there is only one, and that it is an unfathomable\nmystery how this one force should be able to perform all the functions\nattributed to it.\n\n_Germsell_.  I admit that the forces called vital are correlates of the\nforces called physical, if you choose to call that a distinction; but\ntheir character is conditioned by the state of the brain, and it comes to\nthe same thing in the end.  The seat of emotion as well as of thought is\nthe brain, and it entirely depends on its chemical constitution, on its\ncirculation, and on other causes affecting that organ, what you think,\nand feel, and say, and do.  People's characters differ because their\nbrains do, not because there is any difference in the vital force which\nanimates them.\n\n_Rollestone_.  You might as well say that sounds differ because their\naerial vibrations differ, but those vibrations only differ because the\nforce makes them differ which is acting upon them.  They don't generate\ntunes, but convey them.  And the result, so far as our hearing is\nconcerned, depends upon what are called the acoustic conditions under\nwhich the vibrations take place.  Just so the brain possesses no\ngenerating function of its own; it deals with and transmits the ideas and\nemotions projected upon it according to the organic conditions by which\nit may be affected at the time, whether those ideas and emotions are\nproduced by external stimuli, or apparently, but only apparently, as I\nbelieve, owe their origin to genesis in the brain itself.  In the one\ncase the brain is vibrating to the touch of an external force, in the\nother to one that is internal and unseen, just as the air does when it\ntransmits sound, whether you see the cause which produces it or not; and\nthe mystery which remains to be fathomed, but which I do not admit to be\nunfathomable until somebody tries to fathom it, is the nature of those\nunseen forces.\n\n_Germsell_.  How would you propose to try and fathom it?\n\n_Rollestone_.  By experiment: I know of no other way.  The forces which\ngenerate emotions and ideas must possess a moral quality: the experiments\nmust therefore be moral experiments.\n\n_Germsell_.  How do you set to work to experimentalise morally?\n\n_Rollestone_.  As the process must of necessity be a purely personal one,\ncarried on, if I may use the expression, in one's own moral organism, I\nhave a certain delicacy in attempting to describe it.  In fact, Lady\nFritterly, if you will allow me to say so, as the whole subject which has\nbeen under discussion this afternoon is the most profoundly solemn which\ncan engage the attention of a human being, I shrink from entering upon it\nas fully as I would do under other circumstances.  I people begin to want\na new religion because it is the fashion to want one, I venture to\npredict that they will never find it.  If they want a new religion\nbecause they can't come up to the moral standard of the one they have\ngot, then I would advise them to look rather to that unseen force within\nthem, which I have been attempting to describe to Mr Germsell, for the\npotency which may enable them to reach it.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Indeed, Mr Rollestone, we are all exceedingly in\nearnest.  I never felt so serious in my life.  Of course this London life\nmust all seem very frivolous to you; but that we can't help, you know.  We\ncan't all go away and make moral experiments like you.  What we feel is,\nthat we ought all to endeavour as much as possible to introduce a more\nserious tone into society.  We want to get rid of the selfishness, and\nthe littlenesses, and the petty ambitions and envyings, and the scandals\nthat go on.  Don't we, Louisa, dear?  And you can't think how grateful I\nam to Lord Fondleton for having given me the pleasure of your\nacquaintance.  I hope I may often see you; I am sure you would do us all\nso much good.  You will always find me at home on Sunday afternoons at\nthis hour.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  It is so refreshing to meet any one so full of\ninformation and earnestness as you are, in this wicked, jaded London.\nPlease go on, Mr Rollestone; what you were saying was so interesting.\nHave you really been experimentalising on your own moral organism?  How\nquite too extraordinary!\n\n_Lord Fondleton_ [_aside to_ Mrs Gloring].  By Jove!  I had no idea old\nRollestone could come out in this line.  He is a regular dark horse.  I\nshould never have suspected it.  He will be first favourite in London\nthis season, and win in a canter.\n\n_Coldwaite_.  You will excuse me, Mr Rollestone, but I really am\ninterested, and I really am serious.  It was with no idle curiosity that\nI was waiting to hear your answer to Mr Germsell's inquiry, as to the\nnature of the moral experiment necessary to test the character of this\nunseen force.\n\n_Rollestone_.  I can only say that any experiment which deals with the\naffectional and emotional part of one's nature must be painful in the\nextreme.  There is, indeed, only one motive which would induce one to\nundergo the trials, sufferings, sacrifices, and ordeals which it\ninvolves--and that is one in which you will sympathise: it is the hope\nthat humanity may benefit by the result of one's efforts.  Indeed, any\nlower motive than this would vitiate them.  I will venture to assert to\nMr Germsell, who is so sceptical as to the existence of any other quality\nin that force, which he can only fathom so far as to know that it is\nphysical, that I will put him through a course of experiment which will\ncause him more acute moral suffering than his brain could bear, unless it\nwas sustained by a force which, by that experimental process, will reveal\nattributes contained in it not dreamt of in his philosophy.\n\n_Germsell_.  I have no doubt you could strain my mind until it was weak\nenough to believe anything, even your fantastic theories.  Thank you, I\nwould rather continue to experiment with my own microscope and forceps\nthan let you experiment either upon my affections or my brains.\n\n_Fussle_ [_aside to_ Mr Rollestone].  You could not make anything of them\neven if he consented--the former don't exist, and the latter are mere\nputty--but I can quite understand your desire to begin _in corpore vili_.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_ [_aside to_ Mrs Gloring].  Allow me freely to offer you\nmy affections as peculiarly adapted to experiments of this nature.\n\n_Rollestone_.  It has always struck me as strange that men of science,\nwho don't shrink from testing, for instance, the value of poisons, or the\nnature of disease, by heroically subjecting their own external organisms\nto their action, should shrink from experimenting on that essential if\nremote vitalising force, which can only be reached by moral experiment,\nand disorder in which produces not only moral obliquity and mental\nalienation, but physical disease as well.\n\n_Fussle_.  Thus a man may die of apoplexy brought on by a fit of passion.\nCure his temper, and you lessen the danger of apoplexy; that, I take it,\nis an illustration of what you mean.\n\n_Rollestone_.  In its most external application it is; the question is\nwhere his bad temper comes from, and whether, as Mr Germsell would\nmaintain, it is entirely due to his cerebral condition, and not to the\nmoral qualities inherent in the force, which, acting on peculiar cerebral\nconditions, causes one man's temper to differ from another's.  It is not\nthe liberated force which generates the temper.  For that you have to go\nfarther back; and the reason why research is limited in this direction is\nnot because it is impossible to go farther back, but because it must\ninevitably entail, as I have already said, acute personal suffering.  Nor,\nas these experiments must be purely personal, and involve experiences of\nan entirely novel kind, is it possible to discuss them except with those\nwho have participated in them.  One might as well attempt to describe the\nemotion of love to a man whose affections had never been called forth.  If\nI have alluded to them so fully now, it is because they justify me in\nmaking the assertion, for which I can offer no other proof than they have\nafforded to me personally, that a force does exist in nature possessing\nan inherent spiritual potency--I use the word spiritual for lack of a\nbetter--which is capable of lifting humanity to a higher moral plane of\ndaily living and acting than that which it has hitherto attained.  But I\nfear I am trespassing on your patience in having said thus much.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  Oh no, Mr Rollestone; please go on.  There is\nsomething so delightfully fresh and original in all you are saying, I\ncan't tell you how much you interest me.\n\n_Germsell_ [_aside_].  I know a milkmaid quite as fresh and rather more\noriginal.  [_Aloud_, _looking at his watch_.]  Bless me! it is past six,\nand I have an appointment at the club at six.  So sorry to tear myself\naway, dear Lady Fritterly.  I can't tell you how I have enjoyed the\nintellectual treat you have provided for me.\n\n_Lady Fritterly_.  I thank you so much for coming.  I hope you will often\nlook in on our Sundays.  I think, you know, that these little\nconversations are so very improving.\n\n_Germsell_.  You may rely upon me; it is impossible to imagine anything\nmore interesting.  [_Mutters as he leaves the room_.]  No, Lady\nFritterly, this is the last time I enter this house, except perhaps to\ndinner.  You don't catch me again making one of your Sunday afternoon\ncollection of bores and idiots.  What an insufferable prig that\nRollestone is!\n\n_Fussle_ [_aside to_ Drygull].  Thank heaven, that pompous nuisance has\ntaken himself off!\n\n_Drygull_ [_aside to_ Fussle].  I don't know which I dislike most--the\nPharisee of science or the Pharisee of religion.\n\n_Rollestone_.  If, then, you admit that the human organism not only\ncannot generate force, but that the emotions which control the body are\nin their turn generated by a force which is behind it, and that this\nforce is dependent for its manifestation on its own special conditions,\nas well as on those of its transmitting organic medium, I venture to\nassert that experiment in the direction I have suggested will prove to\nour consciousness that the moral or spiritual quality of the original\ninvading force is a pure one, and that the degree of its pollution in the\nhuman frame is the effect of inherited and other organic conditions; and\nthe question which presents itself to the experimentalist is, whether by\nan effort of the will this same force may not be evoked to change and\npurify those conditions.  Indeed the very effort is in itself an\ninvocation, and if made unflinchingly, will not fail to meet with a\nresponse.  Much that has heretofore been to earnest seekers unknowable\nwill become knowable, and a love, Mr Coldwaite, higher, if that be\npossible, than the love of humanity, yet correlative with and inseparable\nfrom it, will be found pressing with an irresistible potency into those\nvacant spaces of the human heart, which have from all time yearned for a\ncloser contact with the Great Source of all love and of all force.  It is\nin this attempt to sever the love of humanity from its Author, that the\nPositivist philosophy has failed: it is the worship of a husk without the\nkernel, of a body without the soul; and hence it will never satisfy the\nhuman aspiration.  That aspiration is ever the same; it needs, if you\nwill allow me to say so, Lady Fritterly, no new religion to satisfy its\ndemands.  If the world is of late beginning to feel dissatisfied with\nChristianity, it is not because the moral standard which that religion\nproposes is not sufficiently lofty for its requirements, but because,\nafter eighteen hundred years of effort, its professors have altogether\nfailed to reach that standard.  Christianity seems a failure because\nChristians have failed--have failed to understand its application to\neveryday life, have failed to embody it in practice, and have sought an\nescape from the apparent impossibility of doing so, by smothering it with\ndogmas, and diverting its scope from this world to the next.  It will be\ntime to look for a new religion, when we have succeeded in the literal\napplication of the ethics of the one we have got to the social and\neconomic problems of daily life.  It is not by any intellectual effort or\nscientific process that the discovery will be made of how this is to be\ndone, but by the introduction into the organism of new and unsuspected\npotencies of moral force which have hitherto lain dormant in nature,\nwaiting for the great invocation of wearied and distressed humanity.\nThere can be no stronger evidence of the approach of this new force,\ndestined to make the ethics of Christianity a practical social standard,\nthan the growing demand of society for a new religion.  It is the\ninarticulate utterance of the quickened human aspiration, in itself a\nproof that these new potencies are already stirring the dry bones of\nChristendom, and a sure earnest that their coming in answer to that\naspiration will not be long delayed.\n\n_Drygull_.  Of course, I entirely disagree with you as to any such\nnecessity in regard to the moral requirements of the world, existing.  You\nmust have met, in the course of your travels, that more enlightened and\ninitiated class of Buddhists, with whom I sympathise, who are quite\nindifferent to considerations of this nature.\n\n_Rollestone_.  And who were too much occupied with their subjective\nprospects in Nirvana, to be affected by the needs of terrestrial\nhumanity.\n\n_Drygull_.  Quite so.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  And, Mr Allyside, I am afraid you are equally\nindifferent.\n\n_Ali Seyyid_.  I am certainly not indifferent to the discovery of any\nforce latent in Christendom which may check the force of its cupidity,\nand put a stop to the _exploitation_ and subjugation of Eastern countries\nfor the sake of advancing its own material interests, under the specious\npretext of introducing the blessings of civilisation.\n\n_Coldwaite_.  You have certainly presented the matter in a light which is\naltogether new to me, Mr Rollestone, and upon which, therefore, I am not\nnow prepared to express an opinion.  I should like to discuss the subject\nwith you further privately.\n\n_Rollestone_.  It is a subject which should never be discussed except\nprivately.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_.  Now, I should say, Mr Rollestone, on the contrary, that\nit was just a subject you ought to write a book about.  You would have so\nmuch to tell,--all your personal experiments, you know; now do.\n\n_Fussle_.  Take my advice, Mr Rollestone, and don't.  You would have very\nfew readers, and those who read you would only sneer at what they would\ncall your crude ideas; and indeed, you will excuse me for saying so, but\nI am not sure that they would not be right.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  I quite disagree with you, Mr Fussle.  If Rollestone\nwould write a book which would put a stop to this \"religion of the\nfuture\" business, he would earn the gratitude of society.  Do you know, I\nam getting rather bored with it.\n\n_Fussle_.  Not if he introduced instead a latent force, which should\noverturn all existing institutions, and revolutionise society--which it\nwould inevitably have to do if we were all coerced by it into adopting\nliterally the ethics of Christianity, instead of merely professing them.\nWhy, the \"Sermon on the Mount\" alone, practised to the letter, would\nproduce a general destruction.  Church and State, and the whole economic\nsystem upon which society is based, would melt away before it like an\niceberg under a tropical sun.  I don't mind discussing the religion of\nthe future as a subject of interesting speculation; but, depend upon it,\nwe had better let well alone.  It seems to me that we--at least those of\nus who are well off--have nothing to complain of.  Let us trust to the\nsilent forces of evolution.  See how much they have lately done for us in\nthe matter of art.  What can be pleasanter than this gentle process of\naesthetic development which our higher faculties are undergoing?  With\ndue deference to Mr Rollestone, I think we shall be far better employed\nin cultivating our taste, than in probing our own organisms in the hope\nof discovering forces which may enable us to apply a perfectly\nunpractical system of morality, to a society which has every reason to be\nsatisfied with the normal progress it is making.\n\n_Mrs Gloring_.  Indeed, Mr Rollestone, I agree with you a great deal more\nthan with Mr Fussle.  I should like to call out a higher moral force in\nmyself--but I should never have the courage to undergo all the ordeals\nyou say it would involve; I am too weak to try.\n\n_Lord Fondleton_.  Of course you are,--don't!  You are much nicer as you\nare.  Why, Rollestone, you would make all the women detestable if you\ncould have your way.\n\n_Rollestone_.  I don't think there is any immediate cause for alarm on\nthat score.\n\n_Mrs Allmash_ [_rising_].  Dearest Augusta, I am afraid I must run away:\nthank you _so_ much, for _such_ a treat.  [_All rise_]  Mrs Gloring, we\nhave all been so deeply interested, that we have scarcely been able to\nexchange a word, but I hope we shall see a great deal of each other this\nyear.  I have a few people coming to me to-morrow evening; do you think\nyou can spare a moment from your numerous engagements?  Lady Fritterly\nand Lord Fondleton are coming; and perhaps, Mr Drygull, you will come,\nand bring Mr Allyside.  Mr Fussle, I know it is useless to expect you;\nand I cannot venture to ask Mr Rollestone to anything so frivolous.  But\nperhaps you will dine with me on Thursday--you will meet some congenial\nspirits.\n\n_Rollestone_.  Thank you, but I fear it will be impossible, as I leave\nLondon to-morrow.  Good-bye, Lady Fritterly.  Forgive me, an utter\nstranger, for having so far obtruded my experiences upon you, and for\nventuring finally to suggest that it is in our own hearts that we should\nsearch for the religion that we need; for is it not written, \"The kingdom\nof heaven is within you\"?\n\n\n\n\nTHE BRIGAND'S BRIDE: A TALE OF SOUTHERN ITALY.\n\n\nThe Italian peninsula during the years 1859-60-61 offered a particularly\ntempting field for adventure to ardent spirits in search of excitement;\nand, attracted partly by my sympathy with the popular movement, and\npartly by that simple desire, which gives so much zest to the life of\nyouth, of risking it on all possible occasions, I had taken an active\npart, chiefly as an officious spectator, in all the principal events of\nthose stirring years.  It was in the spring of 1862 that I found matters\nbeginning to settle down to a degree that threatened monotony; and with\nthe termination of the winter gaieties at Naples and the close of the San\nCarlo, I seriously bethought me of accepting the offer of a naval friend\nwho was about to engage in blockade-running, and offered to land me in\nthe Confederate States, when a recrudescence of activity on the part of\nthe brigand bands in Calabria induced me to turn my attention in that\ndirection.  The first question I had to consider was, whether I should\nenjoy myself most by joining the brigands, or the troops which were\nengaged in suppressing them.  As the former aspired to a political\ncharacter, and called themselves patriotic bands fighting for their\nChurch, their country, and their King--the refugee monarch of Naples--one\ncould espouse their cause without exactly laying one's self open to the\ncharge of being a bandit; but it was notorious in point of fact that the\nbands cared for neither the Pope nor the exiled King nor their annexed\ncountry, but committed the most abominable atrocities in the names of all\nthe three, for the simple purpose of filling their pockets.  I foresaw\nnot only extreme difficulty in being accepted as a member of the\nfraternity, more especially as I had hitherto been identified with the\nGaribaldians; but also the probability of finding myself compromised by\nacts from which my conscience would revolt, and for which my life would\nin all likelihood pay the forfeit.  On the other hand, I could think of\nno friend among the officers of the Bersaglieri and cavalry regiments,\nthen engaged in brigand-hunting in the Capitanata and Basilicata, to whom\nI could apply for an invitation to join them.\n\nUnder these circumstances, I determined to trust to the chapter of\naccidents; and armed with a knapsack, a sketch-book, and an air-gun, took\nmy seat one morning in the Foggia diligence, with the vague idea of\ngetting as near the scene of operations as possible, and seeing what\nwould turn up.  The air-gun was not so much a weapon of offence or\ndefence as a means of introduction to the inhabitants.  It had the\ninnocent appearance of rather a thick walking-cane, with a little brass\ntrigger projecting; and in the afternoon I would join the group sitting\nin front of the chemist's, which, for some reason or other, is generally\na sort of open-air club in a small Neapolitan town, or stroll into the\nsingle modest _cafe_ of which it might possibly boast, and toy\nabstractedly with the trigger.  This, together with my personal\nappearance--for do what I would, I could never make myself look like a\nNeapolitan--would be certain to attract attention, and some one bolder\nthan the rest would make himself the spokesman, and politely ask me\nwhether the cane in my hand was an umbrella or a fishing-rod; on which I\nwould amiably reply that it was a gun, and that I should have much\npleasure in exhibiting my skill and the method of its operation to the\nassembled company.  Then the whole party would follow me to an open\nspace, and I would call for a pack of cards, and possibly--for I was a\ngood shot in those days--pink the ace of hearts at fifteen paces.  At any\nrate my performances usually called forth plaudits, and this involved a\nfurther interchange of compliments and explanations, and the production\nof my sketch-book, which soon procured me the acquaintance of some ladies\nand an invitation as an English artist, to the house of some respectable\ncitizen.\n\nSo it happened that, getting out of the diligence before it reached\nFoggia, I struck south, and wandered for some days from one little town\nto another, being always hospitably entertained, whether there happened\nto be an _albergo_ or not, at private houses, seeing in this way more of\nthe manners and customs of the inhabitants than would have been otherwise\npossible, gaining much information as to the haunts of the brigands, the\nwhereabouts of the troops, and hearing much local gossip generally.  The\nignorance of the most respectable classes at this period was astounding;\nit has doubtless all changed since.  I have been at a town of 2000\ninhabitants, not one of whom took in a newspaper: the whole population,\ntherefore, was in as profound ignorance of what was transpiring in the\nrest of the world as if they had been in Novaia Zemlia.  I have stayed\nwith a mayor who did not know that England was an island; I have been the\nguest of a citizen who had never heard of Scotland, and to whom,\ntherefore, my nationality was an enigma: but I never met any one--I mean\nof this same class--who had not heard of Palmerston.  He was a mysterious\npersonage, execrated by the \"blacks\" and adored by the \"reds.\"  And I\nshone with a reflected lustre as the citizen of a country of which he was\nthe Prime Minister.  As a consequence, we had political discussions,\nwhich were protracted far into the night, for the principal meal of the\ntwenty-four hours was a 10 o'clock P.M. supper, at which, after the\ninevitable macaroni, were many unwholesome dishes, such as salads made of\nthistles, cows' udders, and other delicacies, which deprived one of all\ndesire for sleep.  Notwithstanding which, we rose early, my hostess and\nthe ladies of the establishment appearing in the early part of the day in\nthe most extreme deshabille.  Indeed, on one occasion when I was first\nintroduced into the family of a respectable citizen, and shown into my\nbedroom, I mistook one of two females who were making the bed for the\nservant, and was surprised to see her hand a little douceur I gave her as\nan earnest of attention on her part, to the other with a smile.  She soon\nafterwards went to bed: we all did, from 11 A.M. till about 3 P.M., at\nwhich hour I was horrified to meet her arrayed in silks and satins, and\nto find that she was the wife of my host.  She kindly took me a drive\nwith her in a carriage and pair, and with a coachman in livery.\n\nIt was by this simple means, and by thus imposing myself upon the\nhospitality of these unsophisticated people, that I worked my way by slow\ndegrees, chiefly on foot, into the part of the country I desired to\nvisit; and I trust that I in a measure repaid them for it by the stores\nof information which I imparted to them, and of which they stood much in\nneed, and by little sketches of their homes and the surrounding scenery,\nwith which I presented them.  I was, indeed, dependent in some measure\nfor hospitality of this description, as I had taken no money with me,\npartly because, to tell the truth, I had scarcely got any, and partly\nbecause I was afraid of being robbed by brigands of the little I had.  I\ntherefore eschewed the character of a _milordo Inglese_; but I never\nsucceeded in dispelling all suspicion that I might not be a nephew of the\nQueen, or at least a very near relative of \"Palmerston\" in disguise.  It\nwas so natural, seeing what a deep interest both her Majesty and the\nPrime Minister took in Italy, that they should send some one _incognito_\nwhom they could trust to tell them all about it.\n\nMeantime, I was not surprised, when I came to know the disposition of the\ninhabitants, at the success of brigandage.  It has never been my fortune\nbefore or since to live among such a timid population.  One day at a\nlarge town a leading landed proprietor received notice that if he did not\npay a certain sum in black-mail,--I forget at this distance of time the\nexact amount,--his farm or _masseria_ would be robbed.  This farm, which\nwas in fact a handsome country-house, was distant about ten miles from\nthe town.  He therefore made an appeal to the citizens that they should\narm themselves, and help him to defend his property, as he had determined\nnot to pay, and had taken steps to be informed as to the exact date when\nthe attack was to be made in default of payment.  More than 300 citizens\nenrolled themselves as willing to turn out in arms.  On the day preceding\nthe attack by the brigands, a rendezvous was given to these 300 on the\ngreat square for five in the morning, and thither I accordingly repaired,\nunable, however, to induce my host to accompany me, although he had\nsigned as a volunteer.  On reaching the rendezvous, I found the landed\nproprietor and a friend who was living with him, and about ten minutes\nafterwards two other volunteers strolled up.  Five was all we could\nmuster out of 300.  It was manifestly useless to attempt anything with so\nsmall a force, and no arguments could induce any of the others to turn\nout: so the unhappy gentleman had the satisfaction of knowing that the\nbrigands had punctually pillaged his place, carrying off all his live\nstock on the very day and at the very hour they said they would.  As for\nthe inhabitants venturing any distance from town, except under military\nescort, such a thing was unknown, and all communication with Naples was\nfor some time virtually intercepted.  I was regarded as a sort of\nmonomaniac of recklessness, because I ventured on a solitary walk of a\nmile or two in search of a sketch,--an act of no great audacity on my\npart, for I had walked through various parts of the country without\nseeing a brigand, and found it difficult to realise that there was any\nactual danger in strolling a mile from a moderately large town.\n\nEmboldened by impunity, I was tempted one day to follow up a most\nromantic glen in search of a sketch, when I came upon a remarkably\nhandsome peasant girl, driving a donkey before her loaded with wood.  My\nsudden appearance on the narrow path made the animal shy against a\nprojecting piece of rock, off which he rebounded to the edge of the path,\nwhich, giving way, precipitated him and his load down the ravine.  He was\nbrought up unhurt against a bush some twenty feet below, the fagots of\nwood being scattered in his descent in all directions.  For a moment the\ngirl's large fierce eyes flashed upon me with anger; but the impetuosity\nwith which I went headlong after the donkey, with a view of repairing my\nerror, and the absurd attempts I made to reverse the position of his\nfeet, which were in the air, converted her indignation into a hearty fit\nof laughter, as, seeing that the animal was apparently uninjured, she\nscrambled down to my assistance.  By our united efforts we at last\nsucceeded in hoisting the donkey up to the path, and then I collected the\nwood and helped her to load it again--an operation which involved a\nfrequent meeting of hands, and of the eyes, which had now lost the\nferocity that had startled me at first, and seemed getting more soft and\nbeaming every time I glanced at them, till at last, producing my sketch-\nbook, I ventured to remark, \"Ah, signorina, what a picture you would\nmake!  Now that the ass is loaded, let me draw you before we part, that I\nmay carry away the recollection of the loveliest woman I have seen.\"\n\n\"First draw the donkey,\" she replied, \"that I may carry away a\nrecollection of the _galantuomo_ who first upset him over the bank, and\nthen helped me to load him.\"\n\nSmiling at this ambiguous compliment, I gave her the sketch she desired,\nand was about to claim my reward, when she abruptly remarked--\n\n\"There is not time now; it is getting late, and I must not linger, as I\nhave still an hour to go before reaching home.  How is it that you are\nnot afraid to be wandering in this solitary glen by yourself?  Do you not\nknow the risks?\"\n\n\"I have heard of them, but I do not believe in them,\" I said; \"besides, I\nshould be poor plunder for robbers.\"\n\n\"But you have friends, who would pay to ransom you, I suppose, if you\nwere captured?\"\n\n\"My life is not worth a hundred _scudi_ to any of them,\" I replied,\nlaughing; \"but I am willing to forego the pleasure of drawing you now,\n_bellissima_, if you will tell me where you live, and let me come and\npaint you there at my leisure.\"\n\n\"You're a brave one,\" she said, with a little laugh; \"there is not\nanother man in all Ascoli who would dare to pay me a visit without an\nescort of twenty soldiers.  But I am too grateful for your amiability to\nlet you run such a risk.  _Addio_, Signer Inglese.  There are many\nreasons why I can't let you draw my picture, but I am not ungrateful,\nsee!\"--and she offered me her cheek, on which I instantly imprinted a\nchaste and fraternal salute.\n\n\"Don't think that you've seen the last of me, _carissima_,\" I called out,\nas she turned away.  \"I shall live on the memory of that kiss till I have\nan opportunity of repeating it.\"\n\nAnd as I watched her retreating figure with an artist's eye, I was struck\nwith its grace and suppleness, combined, as I had observed while she was\nhelping me to load the donkey, with an unusual degree of muscular\nstrength for a woman.\n\nThe spot at which this episode had taken place was so romantic, that I\ndetermined to make a sketch of it, and the shades of evening were closing\nin so fast that they warned me to hurry if I would reach the town before\ndark.  I had just finished it, and was stooping to pick up my air-gun,\nwhen I heard a sudden rush, and before I had time to look up, I was\nthrown violently forward on my face, and found myself struggling in the\nembrace of a powerful grasp, from which I had nearly succeeded in freeing\nmyself, when the arms which were clasping me were reinforced by several\nmore pair, and I felt a rope being passed round my body.\n\n\"All right, signors!\" I exclaimed; \"I yield to superior numbers.  You\nneed not pull so hard; let me get up, and I promise to go with you\nquietly.\"  And by this time I had turned sufficiently on my back to see\nthat four men were engaged in tying me up.\n\n\"Tie his elbows together, and let him get up,\" said one; \"he is not\narmed.  Here, Giuseppe, carry his stick and paint-box, while I feel his\npockets.  _Corpo di Baccho_! twelve _bajocchi_,\" he exclaimed, producing\nthose copper coins with an air of profound disgust.  \"It is to be hoped\nhe is worth more to his friends.  Now, young man, trudge, and remember\nthat the first sign you make of attempting to run away, means four\nbullets through you.\"\n\nAs I did not anticipate any real danger, and as a prolonged detention was\na matter of no consequence to a man without an occupation, I stepped\nforward with a light heart, rather pleased than otherwise with\nanticipations of the brigand's cave, and turning over in my mind whether\nor not I should propose to join the band.\n\nWe had walked an hour, and it had become dark, when we turned off the\nroad, up a narrow path that led between rocky sides to a glade, at the\nextremity of which, under an overhanging ledge, was a small cottage, with\nwhat seemed to be a patch of garden in front.\n\n\"Ho!  Anita!\" called out the man who appeared to be the leader of the\nband; \"open!  We have brought a friend to supper, who will require a\nnight's lodgings.\"\n\nAn old woman with a light appeared, and over her shoulder, to my delight,\nI saw the face I had asked to be allowed to paint so shortly before.  I\nwas about to recognise her with an exclamation, when I saw a hurried\nmotion of her finger to her lip, which looked a natural gesture to the\ncasual observer, but which I construed into a sign of prudence.\n\n\"Where did you pick him up, Croppo?\" she asked carelessly.  \"He ought to\nbe worth something.\"\n\n\"Just twelve _bajocchi_,\" he answered with a sneering laugh.  \"Come,\n_amico mio_, you will have to give us the names of some of your friends.\"\n\n\"I am tolerably intimate with his Holiness the Pope, and I have a bowing\nacquaintance with the King of Naples, whom may God speedily restore to\nhis own,\" I replied in a light and airy fashion, which seemed exceedingly\nto exasperate the man called Croppo.\n\n\"Oh yes, we know all about that; we never catch a man who does not\nprofess to be a _Nero_ of the deepest dye in order to conciliate our\nsympathies.  It is just as well that you should understand, my friend,\nthat all are fish who come into our net.  The money of the Pope's friends\nis quite as good as the money of Garibaldi's.  You need not hope to put\nus off with your Italian friends of any colour: what we want is English\ngold--good solid English gold, and plenty of it.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said I, with a laugh, \"if you did but know, my friend, how long I\nhave wanted it too.  If you could only suggest an Englishman who would\npay you for my life, I would write to him immediately, and we would go\nhalves in the ransom.  Hold!\" I said, a bright idea suddenly striking me;\n\"suppose I were to write to my Government--how would that do?\"\n\nCroppo was evidently puzzled: my cheerful and unembarrassed manner\napparently perplexed him.  He had a suspicion that I was even capable of\nthe audacity of making a fool of him, and yet that proposition about the\nGovernment rather staggered him.  There might be something in it.\n\n\"Don't you think,\" he remarked grimly, \"it would add to the effect of\nyour communication if you were to enclose your own ears in your letter?  I\ncan easily supply them; and if you are not a little more guarded in your\nspeech, you may possibly have to add your tongue.\"\n\n\"It would not have the slightest effect,\" I replied, paying no heed to\nthis threat; \"you don't know Palmerston as I do.  If you wish to get\nanything out of him you must be excessively civil.  What does he care\nabout my ears?\"  And I laughed with such scornful contempt that Croppo\nthis time felt that he had made a fool of himself; and I observed the\nlovely girl behind, while the corners of her mouth twitched with\nsuppressed laughter, make a sign of caution.\n\n\"_Per Dio_!\" he exclaimed, jumping up with fury, \"understand, Signor\nInglese, that Croppo is not to be trifled with.  I have a summary way of\ntreating disrespect,\" and he drew a long and exceedingly sharp-looking\ntwo-edged knife.\n\n\"So you would kill the goose\"--and I certainly am a goose, I\nreflected--\"that may lay a golden egg.\"  But my allusion was lost upon\nhim, and I saw my charmer touch her forehead significantly, as though to\nimply to Croppo that I was weak in the upper storey.\n\n\"An imbecile without friends and twelve _bajocchi_ in his pocket,\" he\nmuttered savagely.  \"Perhaps the night without food will restore his\nsenses.  Come, fool!\" and he roughly pushed me into a dark little chamber\nadjoining.  \"Here, Valeria, hold the light.\"\n\nSo Valeria was the name of the heroine of the donkey episode.  As she\nheld a small oil-lamp aloft, I perceived that the room in which I was to\nspend the night had more the appearance of a cellar than a chamber; it\nhad been excavated on two sides from the bank, on the third there was a\nsmall hole about six inches square, apparently communicating with another\nroom, and on the fourth was the door by which I had entered, and which\nopened into the kitchen and general living-room of the inhabitants.  There\nwas a heap of onions running to seed, the fagots of firewood which\nValeria had brought that afternoon, and an old cask or two.\n\n\"Won't you give him some kind of a bed?\" she asked Croppo.\n\n\"Bah! he can sleep on the onions,\" responded that worthy.  \"If he had\nbeen more civil and intelligent he should have had something to eat.  You\nthree,\" he went on, turning to the other men, \"sleep in the kitchen, and\nwatch that the prisoner does not escape.  The door has a strong bolt\nbesides.  Come, Valeria.\"\n\nAnd the pair disappeared, leaving me in a dense gloom, strongly pervaded\nby an odour of fungus and decaying onions.  Groping into one of the\ncasks, I found some straw, and spreading it on a piece of plank, I\nprepared to pass the night sitting with my back to the driest piece of\nwall I could find, which happened to be immediately under the airhole, a\nfortunate circumstance, as the closeness was often stifling.  I had\nprobably been dozing for some time in a sitting position, when I felt\nsomething tickle the top of my head.  The idea that it might be a large\nspider caused me to start, when stretching up my hand, it came in contact\nwith what seemed to be a rag, which I had not observed.  Getting\ncarefully up, I perceived a faint light gleaming through the aperture,\nand then saw that a hand was protruded through it, apparently waving the\nrag.  As I felt instinctively that the hand was Valeria's, I seized the\nfinger-tips, which was all I could get hold of, and pressed them to my\nlips.  They were quickly drawn away, and then the whisper reached my\nears--\n\n\"Are you hungry?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Then eat this,\" and she passed me a tin pannikin full of cold macaroni,\nwhich would just go through the opening.\n\n\"Dear Valeria,\" I said, with my mouth full, \"how good and thoughtful you\nare!\"\n\n\"Hush! he'll hear.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Croppo.\"\n\n\"Where is he?\"\n\n\"Asleep in the bed just behind me.\"\n\n\"How do you come to be in his bedroom?\"\n\n\"Because I'm his wife.\"\n\n\"Oh!\"  A long pause during which I collapsed upon my straw seat, and\nswallowed macaroni thoughtfully.  As the result of my\nmeditations--\"Valeria _carissima_.\"\n\n\"Hush!  Yes.\"\n\n\"Can't you get me out of this infernal den?\"\n\n\"Perhaps, if they all three sleep in the kitchen; at present one is\nawake.  Watch for my signal, and if they all three sleep, I will manage\nto slip the bolt.  Then you must give me time to get back into bed, and\nwhen you hear me snore you may make the attempt.  They are all three\nsleeping on the floor, so be very careful where you tread; I will also\nleave the front door a little open, so that you can slip through without\nnoise.\"\n\n\"Dearest Valeria!\"\n\n\"Hush!  Yes.\"\n\n\"Hand me that cane--it is my fishing-rod, you know--through this hole;\nyou can leave the sketch-book and paint-box under the tree that the\ndonkey fell against,--I will call for them some day soon.  And, Valeria,\ndon't you think we could make our lips meet through this beastly hole?\"\n\n\"Impossible.  There's my hand; heavens!  Croppo would murder me if he\nknew.  Now keep quiet till I give the signal.  Oh, do let go my hand!\"\n\n\"Remember, Valeria, _bellissima_, _carissima_, whatever happens, that I\nlove you.\"\n\nBut I don't think she heard this, and I went and sat on the onions\nbecause I could see the hole better, and the smell of them kept me awake.\n\nIt was at least two hours after this that the faint light appeared at the\nhole in the wall, and a hand was pushed through.  I rushed at the finger-\ntips.\n\n\"Here's your fishing-rod,\" she said when I had released them, and she had\npassed me my air-gun.  \"Now be very careful how you tread.  There is one\nasleep across the door, but you can open it about two feet.  Then step\nover him; then make for a gleam of moonlight that comes through the crack\nof the front door, open it very gently and slip out.  _Addio, caro\nInglese_; mind you wait till you hear me snoring.\"\n\nThen she lingered, and I heard a sigh.  \"What is it, sweet Valeria?\" and\nI covered her hand with kisses.\n\n\"I wish Croppo had blue eyes like you.\"\n\nThis was murmured so softly that I may have been mistaken, but I'm nearly\nsure that was what she said; then she drew softly away, and two minutes\nafterwards I heard her snoring.  As the first sound issued from her\nlovely nostrils, I stealthily approached the door, gently pushed it open;\nstealthily stepped over a space which I trusted cleared the recumbent\nfigure that I could not see; cleared him; stole gently on for the streak\nof moonlight; trod squarely on something that seemed like an outstretched\nhand, for it gave under my pressure and produced a yell; felt that I must\nnow rush for my life; dashed the door open, and down the path with four\nyelling ruffians at my heels.  I was a pretty good runner, but the moon\nwas behind a cloud, and the way was rocky,--moreover, there must have\nbeen a short cut I did not know, for one of my pursuers gained upon me\nwith unaccountable rapidity--he appeared suddenly within ten yards of my\nheels.  The others were at least a hundred yards behind.  I had nothing\nfor it but to turn round, let him almost run against the muzzle of my air-\ngun, pull the trigger, and see him fall in his tracks.  It was the work\nof a second, but it checked my pursuers.  They had heard no noise, but\nthey found something that they did not bargain for, and lingered a\nmoment, then they took up the chase with redoubled fury.  But I had too\ngood a start; and where the path joined the main road, instead of turning\ndown towards the town, as they expected I would, I dodged round in the\nopposite direction, the uncertain light this time favouring me, and I\nheard their footsteps and their curses dying away on the wrong track.\nNevertheless I ran on at full speed, and it was not till the day was\ndawning that I began to feel safe and relax my efforts.  The sun had been\nup an hour when I reached a small town, and the little _locanda_ was just\nopening for the day when I entered it, thankful for a hot cup of coffee,\nand a dirty little room, with a dirtier bed, where I could sleep off the\nfatigue and excitement of the night.  I was strolling down almost the\nonly street in the afternoon when I met a couple of carabineers riding\ninto it, and shortly after encountered the whole troop, to my great\ndelight, in command of an intimate friend whom I had left a month before\nin Naples.\n\n\"Ah, _caro mio_!\" he exclaimed, when he saw me, \"well met.  What on earth\nare you doing here?--looking for those brigands you were so anxious to\nfind when you left Naples?  Considering that you are in the heart of\ntheir country, you should not have much difficulty in gratifying your\ncuriosity.\"\n\n\"I have had an adventure or two,\" I replied carelessly.  \"Indeed that is\npartly the reason you find me here.  I was just thinking how I could get\nsafely back to Ascoli, when your welcome escort appeared; for I suppose\nyou are going there, and will let me take advantage of it.\"\n\n\"Only too delighted; and you can tell me your adventures.  Let us dine\ntogether tonight, and I will find you a horse to ride on with us in the\nmorning.\"\n\nI am afraid my account of the episode with which I have acquainted the\nreader was not strictly accurate in all its details, as I did not wish to\nbring down my military friends on poor Valeria, so I skipped all allusion\nto her and my detention in her home; merely saying that I had had a\nscuffle with brigands, and had been fortunate enough to escape under\ncover of the night.  As we passed it next morning I recognised the path\nwhich led up to Valeria's cottage, and shortly after observed that young\nwoman herself coming up the glen.\n\n\"Holloa!\" I said, with great presence of mind as she drew near, \"my\nlovely model, I declare!  Just you ride on, old fellow, while I stop and\nask her when she can come and sit to me again.\"\n\n\"You artists are sad rogues,--what chances your profession must give\nyou!\" remarked my companion, as he cast an admiring glance on Valeria,\nand rode discreetly on.\n\n\"There is nothing to be afraid of, lovely Valeria,\" I said in a low tone,\nas I lingered behind; \"be sure I will never betray either you or your\nrascally--hem!  I mean your excellent Croppo.  By the way, was that man\nmuch hurt that I was obliged to trip up?\"\n\n\"Hurt!  Santa Maria, he is dead, with a bullet through his heart.  Croppo\nsays it must have been magic; for he had searched you, and he knew you\nwere not armed, and he was within a hundred yards of you when poor Pippo\nfell, and he heard no sound.\"\n\n\"Croppo is not far wrong,\" I said, glad of the opportunity thus offered\nof imposing on the ignorance and credulity of the natives.  \"He seemed\nsurprised that he could not frighten me the other night.  Tell him he was\nmuch more in my power than I was in his, dear Valeria,\" I added, looking\ntenderly into her eyes.  \"I didn't want to alarm you, that was the reason\nI let him off so easily; but I may not be so merciful next time.  Now,\nsweetest, that kiss you owe me, and which the wall prevented your giving\nme the other night.\"  She held up her face with the innocence of a child,\nas I stooped from my saddle.\n\n\"I shall never see you again, Signer Inglese,\" she said, with a sigh;\n\"for Croppo says it is not safe, after what happened the night before\nlast, to stay another hour.  Indeed he went off yesterday, leaving me\norders to follow to-day; but I went first to put your sketch-book under\nthe bush where the donkey fell, and where you will find it.\"\n\nIt took us another minute or two to part after this; and when I had\nridden away I turned to look back, and there was Valeria gazing after me.\n\"Positively,\" I reflected, \"I am over head and ears in love with the\ngirl, and I believe she is with me.  I ought to have nipped my feelings\nin the bud when she told me she was his wife; but then he is a brigand,\nwho threatened both my ears and my tongue, to say nothing of my life.  To\nwhat extent is the domestic happiness of such a ruffian to be respected?\"\nand I went on splitting the moral straws suggested by this train of\nthought, until I had recovered my sketch-book and overtaken my escort,\nwith whom I rode triumphantly back into Ascoli, where my absence had been\nthe cause of much anxiety, and my fate was even then being eagerly\ndiscussed.  My friends with whom I usually sat round the chemist's door,\nwere much exercised by the reserve which I manifested in reply to the\nfire of cross-examination to which I was subjected for the next few days;\nand English eccentricity, which was proverbial even in this secluded\ntown, received a fresh illustration in the light and airy manner with\nwhich I treated a capture and escape from brigands, which I regarded with\nsuch indifference that I could not be induced even to condescend to\ndetails.  \"It was a mere scuffle; there were only four; and, being an\nEnglishman, I polished them all off with the 'box,'\"--and I closed my\nfist, and struck a scientific attitude of self-defence, branching off\ninto a learned disquisition on the pugilistic art, which filled my\nhearers with respect and amazement.  From this time forward the sentiment\nwith which I regarded my air-gun underwent a change.  When a friend had\nmade me a present of it a year before, I regarded it in the light of a\ntoy, and rather resented the gift as too juvenile.  I wonder he did not\ngive me a kite or a hoop, I mentally reflected.  Then I had found it\nuseful among Italians, who are a trifling people, and like playthings;\nbut now that it had saved my life, and sent a bullet through a man's\nheart, I no longer entertained the same feeling of contempt for it.  Not\nagain would I make light of it,--this potent engine of destruction which\nhad procured me the character of being a magician.  I would hide it from\nhuman gaze, and cherish it as a sort of fetish.  So I bought a walking-\nstick and an umbrella, and strapped it up with them, wrapped in my plaid;\nand when, shortly after, an unexpected remittance from an aunt supplied\nme with money enough to buy a horse from one of the officers of my\nfriend's regiment, which soon after arrived, I accepted their invitation\nto accompany them on their brigand-hunting expeditions, not one of them\nknew that I had such a weapon as an air-gun in my possession.\n\nOur _modus operandi_ on these occasions was as follows: On receiving\ninformation from some proprietor that the brigands were threatening his\nproperty,--it was impossible to get intelligence from the peasantry, for\nthey were all in league with the brigands; indeed they all took a holiday\nfrom regular work, and joined a band for a few weeks from time to\ntime,--we proceeded, with a force sufficiently strong to cope with the\nsupposed strength of the band, to the farm in question.  The bands were\nall mounted, and averaged from 200 to 400 men each.  It was calculated\nthat upwards of 2000 men were thus engaged in harrying the country, and\nthis enabled the _Neri_ to talk of the king's forces engaged in\nlegitimate warfare against those of Victor Emmanuel.  Riding over the\nvast plains of the Capitanata, we would discern against the sky-outline\nthe figure of a solitary horseman.  This we knew to be a picket.  Then\nthere was no time to be lost, and away we would go for him helter-skelter\nacross the plain; he would instantly gallop in on the main body, probably\noccupying a _masseria_.  If they thought they were strong enough, they\nwould show fight.  If not, they would take to their heels in the\ndirection of the mountains, with us in full cry after them.  If they were\nhardly pressed they would scatter, and we were obliged to do the same,\nand the result would be that the swiftest horsemen might possibly effect\na few captures.  It was an exciting species of warfare, partaking a good\ndeal more of the character of a hunting-field than of cavalry\nskirmishing.  Sometimes, where the ground was hilly, we had Bersaglieri\nwith us; and as the brigands took to the mountains, the warfare assumed a\ndifferent character.  Sometimes, in default of these active little\ntroops, we took local volunteers, whom we found a very poor substitute.\nOn more than one occasion when we came upon the brigands in a farm, they\nthought themselves sufficiently strong to hold it against us, and once\nthe cowardice of the volunteers was amusingly illustrated.  The band was\nestimated at about 200, and we had 100 volunteers and a detachment of 50\ncavalry.  On coming under the fire of the brigands, the cavalry captain,\nwho was in command, ordered the volunteers to charge, intending when they\nhad dislodged the enemy to ride him down on the open; but the volunteer\nofficer did not repeat the word, and stood stock-still, his men all\nimitating his example.\n\n\"Charge!  I say,\" shouted the cavalry captain; \"why don't you charge?  I\nbelieve you're afraid!\"\n\n\"_E vero_,\" said the captain of volunteers, shrugging his shoulders.\n\n\"Here, take my horse--you're only fit to be a groom; and you, men,\ndismount and let these cowards hold your horses, while you follow\nme,\"--and jumping from his horse, the gallant fellow, followed by his\nmen, charged the building, from which a hot fire was playing upon them,\nsword in hand.  In less than a quarter of an hour the brigands were\nscampering, some on foot and some on horseback, out of the\nfarm-buildings, followed by a few stray and harmless shots from such of\nthe volunteers as had their hands free.  We lost three men killed and\nfive wounded in this little skirmish, and killed six of the brigands,\nbesides making a dozen prisoners.  When I say we, I mean my companions;\nfor having no weapon, I had discreetly remained with the volunteers.  The\nscene of this gallant exploit was on the classic battle-field of Cannae.\nThis captain, who was not the friend I had joined the day after my\nbrigand adventure, was a most plucky and dashing cavalry officer, and was\nwell seconded by his men, who were all Piedmontese, and of very different\ntemperament from the Neapolitans.  On one occasion a band of 250 brigands\nwaited for us on the top of a small hill, never dreaming that we should\ncharge up it with the odds five to one against us--but we did; and after\nfiring a volley at us, which emptied a couple of saddles, they broke and\nfled when we were about twenty yards from them.  Then began one of the\nmost exciting scurries across country it was ever my fortune to be\nengaged in.  The brigands scattered--so did we; and I found myself with\ntwo troopers in chase of a pair of bandits, one of whom seemed to be the\nchief of the band.  A small stream wound through the plain, which we\ndashed across.  Just beyond was a tributary ditch, which would have been\nconsidered a fair jump in the hunting-field: both brigands took it in\nsplendid style.  The hindmost was not ten yards ahead of the leading\ntrooper, who came a cropper, on which the brigand reined up, fired a\npistol-shot into the prostrate horse and man, and was off: but the delay\ncost him dear.  The other trooper, who was a little ahead of me, got\nsafely over.  I followed suit.  In another moment he had fired his\ncarbine into the brigand's horse, and down they both came by the run.  We\ninstantly reined up, for I saw there was no chance of overtaking the\nremaining brigand, and the trooper was in the act of cutting down the man\nas he struggled to his feet, when to my horror I recognised the lovely\nfeatures of--Valeria.\n\n\"Stay, man!\" I shouted, throwing myself from my horse; \"it's a woman!\ntouch her if you dare!\" and then seeing the man's eye gleam with\nindignation, I added, \"Brave soldiers, such as you have proved yourself\nto be, do not kill women; though your traducers say you do, do not give\nthem cause to speak truth.  I will be responsible for this woman's\nsafety.  Here, to make it sure, you had better strap us together.\"  I\npiqued myself exceedingly on this happy inspiration, whereby I secured an\narm-in-arm walk, of a peculiar kind it is true, with Valeria, and indeed\nmy readiness to sacrifice myself seemed rather to astonish the soldier,\nwho hesitated.  However, his comrade, whose horse had been shot in the\nditch, now came up, and seconded my proposal, as I offered him a mount on\nmine.\n\n\"How on earth am I to let you escape, dear Valeria?\" I whispered, giving\nher a sort of affectionate nudge: the position of our arms prevented my\nsqueezing hers, as I could have wished, and the two troopers kept behind\nus, watching us, I thought, suspiciously.\n\n\"It is quite impossible now--don't attempt it,\" she answered; \"perhaps\nthere may be an opportunity later.\"\n\n\"Was that Croppo who got away?\" I asked.  \"Yes.  He could not get his\ncowardly men to stand on that hill.\"\n\n\"What a bother those men are behind, dearest!  Let me pretend to scratch\nmy nose with this hand that is tied to yours, which I can thus bring to\nmy lips.\"\n\nI accomplished this manoeuvre rather neatly, but parties now came\nstraggling in from other directions, and I was obliged to give up\nwhispering and become circumspect.  They all seemed rather astonished at\nour group, and the captain laughed heartily as he rode up and called out,\n\"Who have you got tied to you there, _caro mio_?\"\n\n\"Croppo's wife.  I had her tied to me for fear she should escape;\nbesides, she is not bad-looking.\"\n\n\"What a prize!\" he exclaimed.  \"We have made a tolerable haul this\ntime,--twenty prisoners in all--among them the priest of the band.  Our\ncolonel has just arrived, so I am in luck--he will be delighted.  See,\nthe prisoners are being brought up to him now: but you had better remount\nand present yours in a less singular fashion.\"\n\nWhen we reached the colonel we found him examining the priest.  His\nbreviary contained various interesting notes, written on some of the fly-\nleaves.  For instance:--\n\n\"Administered extreme unction to A---, shot by Croppo's orders: my share\nten _scudi_.\n\n\"Ditto, ditto, to R---, hung by Croppo's order; my share two _scudi_.\n\n\"Ditto, ditto, to S---, roasted by Croppo's order, to make him name an\nagent to bring his ransom: overdone by mistake, and died--so got nothing.\n\n\"Ditto, ditto, to P---, executed by the knife by Croppo's order, for\ndisobedience.\n\n\"M--- and F---, and D---, three new members, joined to-day: confessed\nthem, and received the usual fees.\"\n\nHe was a dark, beetle-browed-looking ruffian, this holy man; and the\ncolonel, when he had finished examining his book of prayer and crime,\ntossed it to me, saying,--\"There! that will show your friends in England\nthe kind of politicians we make war against.  Ha! what have we here?  This\nis more serious.\"  And he unfolded a piece of paper which had been\nconcealed in the breast of the priest.  \"This contains a little valuable\ninformation,\" he added, with a grim smile.  \"Nobody like priests and\nwomen for carrying about political secrets, so you may have made a\nvaluable capture,\" and he turned to where I stood with Valeria; \"let her\nbe carefully searched.\"\n\nNow the colonel was a very pompous man, and the document he had just\ndiscovered on the priest added to his sense of self-importance.  When,\ntherefore, a large, carefully folded paper was produced from the\nneighbourhood of Valeria's lovely bosom, his eyes sparkled with\nanticipation.  \"Ho, ho!\" he exclaimed, as he clutched it eagerly, \"the\nplot is thickening!\" and he spread out triumphantly, before he had\nhimself seen what it was, the exquisitely drawn portrait of a donkey.\nThere was a suppressed titter, which exploded into a shout when the\nbystanders looked into the colonel's indignant face.  I only was affected\ndifferently, as my gaze fell upon this touching evidence of dear\nValeria's love for me, and I glanced at her tenderly.  \"This has a deeper\nsignificance than you think for,\" said the colonel, looking round\nangrily.  \"Croppo's wife does not carefully secrete a drawing like that\non her person for nothing.  See, it is done by no common artist.  It\nmeans something, and must be preserved.\"\n\n\"It may have a Biblical reference to the state of Italy.  You remember\nIssachar was likened to an ass between two burdens.  In that case it\nprobably emanated from Rome,\" I remarked; but nobody seemed to see the\npoint of the allusion, and the observation fell flat.\n\nThat night I dined with the colonel, and after dinner I persuaded him to\nlet me visit Valeria in prison, as I wished to take the portrait of the\nwife of the celebrated brigand chief.  I thanked my stars that my friend\nwho had seen her when we met in the glen, was away on duty with his\ndetachment, and could not testify to our former acquaintance.  My meeting\nwith Valeria on this occasion was too touching and full of tender\npassages to be of any general interest.  Valeria told me that she was\nstill a bride; that she had only been married a few months, and that she\nhad been compelled to become Croppo's wife against her choice, as the\nbrigand's will was too powerful to be resisted; but that, though he was\njealous and attached to her, he was stern and cruel, and so far from\nwinning her love since her marriage, he had rather estranged it by his\nfits of passion and ferocity.  As may be imagined, the portrait, which\nwas really very successful, took some time in execution, the more\nespecially as we had to discuss the possibilities of Valeria's escape.\n\n\"We are going to be transferred to-morrow to the prison at Foggia,\" she\nsaid.  \"If, while we were passing through the market-place, a disturbance\nof some sort could be created, as it is market day, and all the country\npeople know me, and are my friends, a rescue might be attempted.  I know\nhow to arrange for that, only they must see some chance of success.\"\n\nA bright thought suddenly struck me; it was suggested by a trick I had\nplayed shortly after my arrival in Italy.\n\n\"You know I am something of a magician, Valeria; you have had proof of\nthat.  If I create a disturbance by magic to-morrow, when you are passing\nthrough the market-place, you won't stay to wonder what is the cause of\nthe confusion, but instantly take advantage of it to escape.\"\n\n\"Trust me for that, _caro mio_.\"\n\n\"And if you escape, when shall we meet again?\"\n\n\"I am known too well now to risk another meeting.  I shall be in hiding\nwith Croppo, where it will be impossible for you to find me, nor while he\nlives could I ever dare to think of leaving him; but I shall never forget\nyou\"--and she pressed my hands to her lips--\"though I shall no longer\nhave the picture of the donkey to remember you by.\"\n\n\"See, here's my photograph; that will be better,\" said I, feeling a\nlittle annoyed--foolishly, I admit.  Then we strained each other to our\nrespective hearts, and parted.  Now it so happened that my room in the\n_locanda_ in which I was lodging overlooked the market-place.  Here at\nten o'clock in the morning I posted myself--for that was the hour, as I\nhad been careful to ascertain, when the prisoners were to start for\nFoggia.  I opened the window about three inches, and fixed it there: I\ntook out my gun, put eight balls in it, and looked down upon the square.\nIt was crowded with the country people in their bright-coloured costumes,\nchaffering over their produce.  I looked above them to the tall campanile\nof the church which filled one side of the square.  I receded a step and\nadjusted my gun on the ledge of the window to my entire satisfaction.  I\nthen looked down the street in which the prison was situated, and which\ndebouched on the square, and awaited events.  At ten minutes past ten I\nsaw the soldiers at the door of the prison form up, and then I knew that\nthe twenty prisoners of whom they formed the escort were starting; but\nthe moment they began to move, I fired at the big bell in the campanile,\nwhich responded with a loud clang.  All the people in the square looked\nup.  As the prisoners entered the square, which they had to cross in its\nwhole breadth, I fired again and again.  The bell banged twice, and the\npeople began to buzz about.  Now, I thought, I must let the old bell have\nit.  By the time five more balls had struck the bell with a resounding\ndin, the whole square was in commotion.  A miracle was evidently in\nprogress, or the campanile was bewitched.  People began to run hither and\nthither; all the soldiers forming the escort gaped open-mouthed at the\nsteeple as the clangour continued.  As soon as the last shot had been\nfired, I looked down into the square and saw all this, and I saw that the\nprisoners were attempting to escape, and in more than one instance had\nsucceeded, for the soldiers began to scatter in pursuit, and the country\npeople to form themselves into impeding crowds, as though by accident,\nbut nowhere could I see Valeria.  When I was quite sure she had escaped,\nI went down and joined the crowd.  I saw three prisoners captured and\nbrought back; and when I asked the officer in command how many had\nescaped, he said three--Croppo's wife, the priest, and another.\n\nWhen I met my cavalry friends at dinner that evening, it was amusing to\nhear them speculate upon the remarkable occurrence which had, in fact,\nupset the wits of the whole town.  Priests and vergers and sacristans had\nvisited the campanile, and one of them had brought away a flattened piece\nof lead, which looked as if it might have been a bullet; but the\nsuggestion that eight bullets could have hit the bell in succession\nwithout anybody hearing a sound, was treated with ridicule.  I believe\nthe bell was subsequently exorcised with holy water.  I was afraid to\nremain with the regiment with my air-gun after this, lest some one should\ndiscover it, and unravel the mystery; besides, I felt a sort of traitor\nto the brave friends who had so generously offered me their hospitality,\nso I invented urgent private affairs, which demanded my immediate return\nto Naples, and on the morning of my departure found myself embraced by\nall the officers of the regiment, from the colonel downwards, who, in the\nfervour of their kisses, thrust sixteen waxed moustache-points against my\ncheeks.\n\nAbout eighteen months after this, I heard of the capture and execution of\nCroppo, and I knew that Valeria was free; but I had unexpectedly\ninherited a property, and was engaged to be married.  I am now a country\ngentleman with a large family.  My sanctum is stocked with various\nmementoes of my youthful adventures, but none awakens in me such\nthrilling memories as are excited by the breviary of the brigand priest,\nand the portrait of the brigand's bride.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SISTERS OF THIBET.\n\n\nIt is now nearly twenty-seven years ago--long before the Theosophical\nSociety was founded, or Esoteric Buddhism was known to exist in the form\nrecently revealed to us by Mr Sinnett{81}--that I became the _chela_, or\npupil, of an adept of Buddhist occultism in Khatmandhu.  At that time\nEnglishmen, unless attached to the Residency, were not permitted to\nreside in that picturesque Nepaulese town.  Indeed I do not think that\nthey are now; but I had had an opportunity during the Indian Mutiny, when\nI was attached to the Nepaulese contingent, of forming an intimacy with a\n\"Guru\" connected with the force.  It was not until our acquaintance had\nripened into a warm friendship that I gradually made the discovery that\nthis interesting man held views which differed so widely from the popular\nconception of Buddhism as I had known it in Ceylon--where I had resided\nfor some years--that my curiosity was roused,--the more especially as he\nwas in the habit of sinking off gradually, even while I was speaking to\nhim, into trance-conditions, which would last sometimes for a week,\nduring which time he would remain without food; and upon more than one\noccasion I missed even his material body from my side, under\ncircumstances which appeared to me at the time unaccountable.  The\nNepaulese troops were not very often engaged with the rebels during the\nIndian Mutiny; but when they were, the Guru was always to be seen under\nthe hottest fire, and it was generally supposed by the army that his\nbody, so far from being impervious to bullets, was so pervious to them\nthat they could pass through it without producing any organic\ndisturbance.  I was not aware of this fact at first; and it was not until\nI observed that, while he stood directly in the line of fire, men were\nkilled immediately behind him, that I ceased to accompany him into\naction, and determined, if possible, to solve a mystery which had begun\nto stimulate my curiosity to the highest pitch.  It is not necessary for\nme to enter here into the nature of the conversations I had with him on\nthe most important and vital points affecting universal cosmogony and the\nhuman race and its destiny.  Suffice it to say, that they determined me\nto sever my connection with the Government of India; to apply privately,\nthrough my friend the Guru, to the late Jung Bahadoor for permission to\nreside in Nepaul; and finally, in the garb of an Oriental, to take up my\nresidence in Khatmandhu, unknown to the British authorities.  I should\nnot now venture on this record of my experiences, or enter upon the\nrevelation of a phase hitherto unknown and unsuspected, of that esoteric\nscience which has, until now, been jealously guarded as a precious\nheritage belonging exclusively to regularly initiated members of\nmysteriously organised associations, had not Mr Sinnett, with the consent\nof a distinguished member of the Thibetan brotherhood, and, in fact, at\nhis dictation, let, if I may venture to use so profane an expression in\nconnection with such a sacred subject, \"the cat out of the bag.\"  Since,\nhowever, the _arhats_, or illuminati, of the East, seem to have arrived\nat the conclusion that the Western mind is at last sufficiently prepared\nand advanced in spiritual knowledge to be capable of assimilating the\noccult doctrines of Esoteric Buddhism, and have allowed their pupil to\nburst them upon a thoughtless and frivolous society with the suddenness\nof a bomb-shell, I feel released from the obligations to secrecy by which\nI have hitherto felt bound, and will proceed to unfold a few arcana of a\nfar more extraordinary character than any which are to be found even in\nthe pages of the 'Theosophist' or of 'Esoteric Buddhism.'\n\nOwing to certain conditions connected with my _linga sharira_, or \"astral\nbody\"--which it would be difficult for me to explain to those who are not\nto some extent initiated--I passed through the various degrees of _chela_-\nship with remarkable rapidity.  When I say that in less than fifteen\nyears of spiritual absorption and profound contemplation of esoteric\nmysteries I became a _mahatma_, or adept, some idea may be formed by\n_chelas_ who are now treading that path of severe ordeal, of the rapidity\nof my progress: indeed, such extraordinary faculty did I manifest, that\nat one time the Guru, my master, was inclined to think that I was one of\nthose exceptional cases which recur from time to time, where a child-body\nis selected as the human tenement of a reincarnated adept; and that\nthough belonging by rights to the fourth round, I was actually born into\nthe fifth round of the human race in the planetary chain.  \"The adept,\"\nsays an occult aphorism, \"becomes; he is not made.\"  That was exactly my\ncase.  I attribute it principally to an overweening confidence in myself,\nand to a blind faith in others.  As Mr Sinnett very properly remarks--\n\n   \"Very much further than people generally imagine, will mere confidence\n   carry the occult neophyte.  How many European readers who would be\n   quite incredulous if told of some results which occult _chelas_ in the\n   most incipient stages of their training have to accomplish by sheer\n   force of confidence, hear constantly in church, nevertheless, the\n   familiar Biblical assurances of the power which resides in faith, and\n   let the words pass by like the wind, leaving no impression!\"\n\nIt is true that I had some reason for this confidence--which arose from\nthe fact that prior to my initiation into Buddhist mysteries, and before\nI left England, I had developed, under the spiritual craze which was then\nprevalent in society, a remarkable faculty of clairvoyance.  This gave me\nthe power not merely of diagnosing the physical and moral conditions of\nmy friends and acquaintances, and of prescribing for them when necessary,\nbut of seeing what was happening in other parts of the world; hence my\norganism was peculiarly favourable for initiation into occult mysteries,\nand naturally--or rather spiritually--prepared for that method in the\nregular course of occult training by which adepts impart instruction to\ntheir pupils.\n\n   \"They awaken,\" as we are most accurately informed by Mr Sinnett, \"the\n   dormant sense in the pupil, and through this they imbue his mind with\n   a knowledge that such and such a doctrine is the real truth.  The\n   whole scheme of evolution infiltrates into the regular _chela's_ mind,\n   by reason of the fact that he is made to see the process taking place\n   by clairvoyant vision.  There are no words used in his instruction at\n   all.  And adepts themselves, to whom the facts and processes of nature\n   are as familiar as our five fingers to us, find it difficult to\n   explain in a treatise which they cannot illustrate for us, by\n   producing mental pictures in our dormant sixth sense, the complex\n   anatomy of the planetary system.\"\n\nI have always felt--and my conviction on the subject has led to some\npainful discussions between myself and some of my _mahatma_ brothers--that\nthe extreme facility with which I was enabled to perceive at a glance\n\"the complex anatomy of the planetary system,\" and the rapid development\nof my \"dormant sixth sense,\" was due mainly to the fact that I was\nnothing more nor less than what spiritualists call a highly sensitive\nmedium.  Meantime this premature development of my sixth sense forced me\nright up through the obstacles which usually impede such an operation in\nthe case of a fourth-round man, into that stage of evolution which awaits\nthe rest of humanity--or rather, so much of humanity as may reach it in\nthe ordinary course of nature--in the latter part of the fifth round.  I\nmerely mention this to give confidence to my readers, as I am about to\ndescribe a moral cataclysm which subsequently took place in my sixth\nsense, which would be of no importance in the case of an ordinary\n_chela_, but which was attended with the highest significance as\noccurring to a _mahatma_ who had already attained the highest grade in\nthe mystic brotherhood.  It was not to be wondered at that when I arrived\nat this advanced condition, Khatmandhu, though a pleasant town, was not\naltogether a convenient residence for an occultist of my eminence.  In\nthe first place, the streets were infested with _dugpas_, or red-caps, a\nheretical sect, some members of which have _arhat_ pretensions of a very\nhigh order--indeed I am ready to admit that I have met with Shammar\nadepts, who, so far as supernatural powers were concerned, were second to\nnone among ourselves.  But this was only the result of that necromancy\nwhich Buddha in his sixth incarnation denounced in the person of Tsong-\nkha-pa, the great reformer.  They even deny the spiritual supremacy of\nthe Dalai Lama at Lhassa, and own allegiance to an impostor who lives at\nthe monastery of Sakia Djong.\n\nThe presence of these men, and the presumption of their adepts, who\nmaintained that through subjective or clairvoyant conditions, which they\nasserted were higher than ours, they had attained a more exalted degree\nof illumination which revealed a different cosmogony from that which has\nbeen handed down to us through countless generations of adepts, were a\nperpetual annoyance to me; but perhaps not greater than the proximity of\nthe English Resident and the officers attached to him, the impure\nexhalations from whose _rupas_, or material bodies, infected as they were\nwith magnetic elements drawn from Western civilisation, whenever I met\nthem, used to send me to bed for a week.  I therefore strongly felt the\nnecessity of withdrawal to that isolated and guarded region where the\nmost advanced adepts can pursue their contemplative existence without\nfear of interruption, and prepare their _karma_, or, in other words, the\nmolecules of their fifth principle, for the ineffable bliss of\nappropriate development in _devachan_--a place, or rather \"state,\"\nsomewhat resembling Purgatory with a dash of heaven in it; or even for\nthe still more exquisite sensation which arises from having no sensations\nat all, and which characterises _nirvana_, or a sublime condition of\nconscious rest in Omniscience.\n\nThat I am not drawing upon my imagination in alluding to this mysterious\nregion, or imposing upon the credulity of my readers, I will support my\nassertion by the high authority of Mr Sinnett, or rather of his Guru; and\nhere I may remark incidentally, that after a long experience of Gurus, I\nhave never yet met one who would consciously tell a lie.\n\n   \"From time immemorial,\" says Mr Sinnett's Guru, \"there has been a\n   certain region in Thibet, which to this day is quite unknown to and\n   unapproachable by any but initiated persons, and inaccessible to the\n   ordinary people of the country, as to any others, in which adepts have\n   always congregated.  But the country generally was not in Buddha's\n   time, as it has since become, the chosen habitation of the great\n   brotherhood.  Much more than they are at present, were the _mahatmas_\n   in former times distributed throughout the world.\n\n   \"The progress of civilisation engendering the magnetism they find so\n   trying, had, however, by the date with which we are now dealing--the\n   fourteenth century--already given rise to a very general movement\n   towards Thibet on the part of the previously dissociated occultists.\n   Far more widely than was held to be consistent with the safety of\n   mankind was occult knowledge and power then found to be disseminated.\n   To the task of putting it under a rigid system of rule and law did\n   Tsong-kha-pa address himself.\"\n\nOf course, before transferring my material body to this region, I was\nperfectly familiar with it by reason of the faculty which, as Mr Sinnett\nvery truly tells us, is common to all adepts, of being able to flit about\nthe world at will in your astral body; and here I would remark\nparenthetically, that I shall use the term \"astral body\" to save\nconfusion, though, as Mr Sinnett again properly says, it is not strictly\naccurate under the circumstances.  In order to make this clear, I will\nquote his very lucid observations on the subject:--\n\n   \"During the last year or two, while hints and scraps of occult science\n   have been finding their way out into the world, the expression 'astral\n   body' has been applied to a certain semblance of the human form, fully\n   inhabited by its higher principles, which can migrate to any distance\n   from the physical body--projected consciously and with exact intention\n   by a living adept, or unintentionally by the accidental application of\n   certain mental forces to his loosened principles by any person at the\n   moment of death.  For ordinary purposes, there is no practical\n   inconvenience in using the expression 'astral body' for the appearance\n   so projected--indeed any more strictly accurate expression, as will be\n   seen directly, would be cumbersome, and we must go on using the phrase\n   in both meanings.  No confusion need arise; but strictly speaking, the\n   _linga sharira_, or third principle, is the astral body, and that\n   cannot be sent about as the vehicle of the higher principles.\"\n\nAs, however, \"no confusion need arise\" from my describing how I went\nabout in my _linga sharira_, I will continue to use it as the term for my\nvehicle of transportation.  Nor need there be any difficulty about my\nbeing in two places at once.  I have the authority of Mr Sinnett's Guru\nfor this statement, and it is fully confirmed by my own experience.  For\nwhat says the Guru?--\"The individual consciousness, it is argued, cannot\nbe in two places at once.  But first of all, to a certain extent it can.\"\nIt is unnecessary for me to add a word to this positive and most correct\nstatement; but what the Guru has not told us is, that there is a certain\ndiscomfort attending the process.  Whenever I went with my astral body,\nor _linga sharira_, into the mysterious region of Thibet already alluded\nto, leaving my _rupa_, or natural body, in Khatmandhu, I was always\nconscious of a feeling of rawness; while the necessity of looking after\nmy _rupa_--of keeping, so to speak, my astral eye upon it, lest some\naccident should befall it, which might prevent my getting back to it, and\nso prematurely terminate my physical or objective existence--was a\nconstant source of anxiety to me.  Some idea of the danger which attends\nthis process may be gathered from the risks incidental to a much more\ndifficult operation which I once attempted, and succeeded, after\nincredible effort, in accomplishing; this was the passage of my fifth\nprinciple, or ego-spirit, into the ineffable condition of _nirvana_.\n\n   \"Let it not be supposed,\" says Mr Sinnett,--for it is not his Guru who\n   is now speaking,--\"that for any adept such a passage can be lightly\n   undertaken.  Only stray hints about the nature of this great mystery\n   have reached me; but, putting these together, I believe I am right in\n   saying that the achievement in question is one which only some of the\n   high initiates are qualified to attempt, which exacts a total\n   suspension of animation in the body for periods of time compared to\n   which the longest cataleptic trances known to ordinary science are\n   insignificant; the protection of the physical frame from natural decay\n   during this period by means which the resources of occult science are\n   strained to accomplish; and withal it is a process involving a double\n   risk to the continued earthly life of the person who undertakes it.\n   One of these risks is the doubt whether, when once _nirvana_ is\n   attained, the ego will be willing to return.  That the return will be\n   a terrible effort and sacrifice is certain, and will only be prompted\n   by the most devoted attachment, on the part of the spiritual\n   traveller, to the idea of duty in its purest abstraction.  The second\n   great risk is that of allowing the sense of duty to predominate over\n   the temptation to stay--a temptation, be it remembered, that is not\n   weakened by the motive that any conceivable penalty can attach to it.\n   Even then it is always doubtful whether the traveller will be able to\n   return.\"\n\nAll this is exactly as Mr Sinnett has described it.  I shall never forget\nthe struggle that I had with my ego when, ignoring \"the idea of duty in\nits purest abstraction,\" it refused to abandon the bliss of _nirvana_ for\nthe troubles of this mundane life; or the anxiety both of my _manas_, or\nhuman soul, and my _buddhi_, or spiritual soul, lest, after by our\ncombined efforts we had overcome our ego, we should not be able to do our\nduty by our _rupa_, or natural body, and get back into it.\n\nOf course, my migrations to the _mahatma_ region of Thibet were\naccompanied by no such difficulty as this--as, to go with your _linga\nsharira_, or astral body, to another country, is a very different and\nmuch more simple process than it is to go with your _manas_, or human\nsoul, into _nirvana_.  Still it was a decided relief to find myself\ncomfortably installed with my material body, or _rupa_, in the house of a\nThibetan brother on that sacred soil which has for so many centuries\nremained unpolluted by a profane foot.\n\nHere I passed a tranquil and contemplative existence for some years,\nbroken only by such incidents as my passage into _nirvana_, and disturbed\nonly by a certain subjective sensation of aching or void, by which I was\noccasionally attacked, and which I was finally compelled to attribute,\nmuch to my mortification, to the absence of women.  In the whole of this\nsacred region, the name of which I am compelled to withhold, there was\nnot a single female.  Everybody in it was given up to contemplation and\nascetic absorption; and it is well known that profound contemplation, for\nany length of time, and the presence of the fair sex, are incompatible.  I\nwas much troubled by this vacuous sensation, which I felt to be in the\nhighest degree derogatory to my fifth principle, and the secret of which\nI discovered, during a trance-condition which lasted for several months,\nto arise from a subtle magnetism, to which, owing to my peculiar organic\ncondition, I was especially sensitive, and which penetrated the _mahatma_\nregion from a tract of country almost immediately contiguous to it in the\nKarakorum Mountains, which was as jealously guarded from foreign\nintrusion as our own, and which was occupied by the \"Thibetan Sisters,\" a\nbody of female occultists of whom the Brothers never spoke except in\nterms of loathing and contempt.  It is not, therefore, to be wondered at\nthat no mention is made either of them, or the lovely highland district\nthey occupy, in Mr Sinnett's book.  The attraction of this feminine\nsphere became at last so overpowering, that I determined to visit it in\nmy astral body; and now occurred the first of many most remarkable\nexperiences which were to follow.  It is well known to the initiated,\nthough difficult to explain to those who are not, that in a sense space\nceases to exist for the astral body.  When you get out of your _rupa_,\nyou are out of space as ordinary persons understand it, though it\ncontinues to have a certain subjective existence.\n\nI was in this condition, and travelling rapidly in the desired direction,\nwhen I became conscious of the presence of the most exquisitely lovely\nfemale astral body which the imagination of man could conceive; and here\nI may incidentally remark, that no conception can be formed of the beauty\nto which woman can attain by those who have only seen her in her\n_rupa_--or, in other words, in the flesh.  Woman's real charm consists in\nher _linga sharira_--that ethereal duplicate of the physical body which\nguides _jiva_, or the second principle, in its work on the physical\nparticles, and causes it to build up the shape which these assume in the\nmaterial.  Sometimes it makes rather a failure of it, so far as the\n_rupa_ is concerned, but it always retains its own fascinating contour\nand deliciously diaphanous composition undisturbed.  When my gaze fell\nupon this most enchanting object, or rather subject--for I was in a\nsubjective condition at the time--I felt all the senses appertaining to\nmy third principle thrill with emotion; but it seemed impossible--which\nwill readily be understood by the initiated--to convey to her any clear\nidea of the admiration she excited, from the fact that we were neither of\nus in natural space.  Still the sympathy between our _linga shariras_ was\nso intense, that I perceived that I had only to go back for my _rupa_,\nand travel in it to the region of the sisterhood, to recognise her in her\n_rupa_ at once.\n\nEvery _chela_ even knows how impossible it is to make love satisfactorily\nin nothing but your _linga sharira_.  It is quite different after you are\ndead, and have gone in your fourth principle, or _kama rupa_, which is\noften translated \"body of desire,\" into _devachan_; for, as Mr Sinnett\nmost correctly remarks, \"The purely sensual feelings and tastes of the\nlate personality will drop off from it in _devachan_; but it does not\nfollow that nothing is preservable in that state, except feelings and\nthoughts having a direct reference to religion or spiritual philosophy.\nOn the contrary, all the superior phases, even of sensuous emotion, find\ntheir appropriate sphere of development in _devachan_.\"  Until you are\nobliged to go to _devachan_--which, in ordinary parlance, is the place\ngood men go to when they die--my advice is, stick to your _rupa_; and\nindeed it is the instinct of everybody who is not a _mahatma_ to do this.\nI admit--though in making this confession I am aware that I shall incur\nthe contempt of all _mahatmas_--that on this occasion I found my _rupa_ a\ndistinct convenience, and was not sorry that it was still in existence.\nIn it I crossed the neutral zone still inhabited by ordinary Thibetans,\nand after a few days' travel, found myself on the frontiers of \"the\nSisters'\" territory.  The question which now presented itself was how to\nget in.  To my surprise, I found the entrances guarded not by women, as I\nexpected, but by men.  These were for the most part young and handsome.\n\n\"So you imagined,\" said one, who advanced to meet me with an engaging\nair,  \"that you could slip into our territory in your astral body; but\nyou found that all the entrances _in vacuo_\"--I use this word for\nconvenience--\"are as well guarded as those in space.  See, here is the\nSister past whom you attempted to force your way: we look after the\nphysical frontier, and leave the astral or spiritual to the\nladies,\"--saying which he politely drew back, and the apparition whose\nastral form I knew so well, now approached in her substantial _rupa_--in\nfact, she was a good deal stouter than I expected to find her; but I was\nagreeably surprised by her complexion, which was much fairer than is\nusual among Thibetans--indeed her whole type of countenance was\nCaucasian, which was not to be wondered at, considering, as I afterwards\ndiscovered, that she was by birth a Georgian.  She greeted me, in the\nlanguage common to all Thibetan occultists, as an old acquaintance, and\none whose arrival was evidently expected--indeed she pointed laughingly\nto a bevy of damsels whom I now saw trooping towards us, some carrying\ngarlands, some playing upon musical instruments, some dancing in lively\nmeasures, and singing their songs of welcome as they drew near.  Then\nUshas--for that was the name (signifying \"The Dawn\") of the illuminata\nwhose acquaintance I had first made _in vacuo_--taking me by the hand,\nled me to them, and said--\n\n\"Rejoice, O my sisters, at the long-anticipated arrival of the Western\n_arhat_, who, in spite of the eminence which he has attained in the\nmysteries of Esoteric Buddhism, and his intimate connection during so\nmany years with the Thibetan fraternity, has yet retained enough of his\noriginal organic conditions to render him, even in the isolation of (here\nshe mentioned the region I had come from) susceptible to the higher\ninfluence of the occult sisterhood.  Receive him in your midst as the\n_chela_ of a new avatar which will be unfolded to him under your tender\nguidance.  Take him in your arms, O my sisters, and comfort him with the\ndoctrines of Ila, the Divine, the Beautiful.\"\n\nTaking me in their arms, I now found, was a mere formula or figure of\nspeech, and consisted only in throwing garlands over me.  Still I was\nmuch comforted, not merely by the grace and cordiality of their welcome,\nbut by the mention of Ila, whose name will doubtless be familiar to my\nreaders as occurring in a Sanscrit poem of the age immediately following\nthe Vedic period, called the Satapathabrahmana, when Manu was saved from\nthe flood, and offered the sacrifice \"to be the model of future\ngenerations.\"  By this sacrifice he obtained a daughter named Ila, who\nbecame supernaturally the mother of humanity, and who, I had always felt,\nhas been treated with too little consideration by the _mahatmas_--indeed\nher name is not so much as even mentioned in Mr Sinnett's book.  Of\ncourse it was rather a shock to my spiritual pride, that I, a _mahatma_\nof eminence myself, should be told that I was to be adopted as a mere\n_chela_ by these ladies; but I remembered those beautiful lines of\nBuddha's--I quote from memory--and I hesitated no longer:--\n\n   \"To be long-suffering and meek,\n   To associate with the tranquil,\n   Religious talk at due seasons;\n   This is the greatest blessing.\"\n\n\"To be long-suffering\"--this was a virtue I should probably have a\nsplendid opportunity of displaying under the circumstances,--\"and meek\";\nwhat greater proof of meekness could I give than by becoming the _chela_\nof women?  \"To associate with the tranquil.\"  I should certainly obey\nthis precept, and select the most tranquil as my associates, and with\nthem look forward to enjoying \"religious talk at due seasons.\"  Thus\nfortified by the precepts of the greatest of all teachers, my mind was at\nonce made up, and, lifting up my voice, I chanted, in the language of the\noccult, some beautiful stanzas announcing my acceptance of their\ninvitation, which evidently thrilled my hearers with delight.  In order\nto save unnecessary fatigue, we now transferred ourselves through space,\nand, in the twinkling of an eye, I found myself in the enchanting abode\nwhich they called their home, or _dama_.  Here a group of young male\n_chelas_ were in waiting to attend to our wants; and the remarkable fact\nnow struck me, that not only were all the women lovely and the men\nhandsome, but that no trace of age was visible on any of them.  Ushas\nsmiled as she saw what was passing in my mind, and said, without using\nany spoken words, for language had already become unnecessary between us,\n\"This is one of the mysteries which will be explained to you when you\nhave reposed after the fatigues of your journey; in the meantime\nAsvin,\"--and she pointed out a _chela_ whose name signified\n\"Twilight,\"--\"will show you to your room.\"  I would gladly linger, did my\nspace allow, over the delights of this enchanting region, and the\nmarvellously complete and well-organised system which prevailed in its\ncuriously composed society.  Suffice it to say, that in the fairy-like\npavilion which was my home, dwelt twenty-four lovely Sisters and their\ntwenty-three _chelas_--I was to make the twenty-fourth--in the most\ncomplete and absolute harmony, and that their lives presented the most\ncharming combination of active industry, harmless gaiety, and innocent\npleasures.  By a proper distribution of work and proportionment of\nlabour, in which all took part, the cultivation of the land, the tending\nof the exquisite gardens, with their plashing fountains, fragrant\nflowers, and inviting arbours, the herding of the cattle, and the heavier\npart of various handicrafts, fell upon the men; while the women looked\nafter the domestic arrangements--cooked, made or mended and washed the\n_chelas_' clothes and their own (both men and women were dressed\naccording to the purest principles of aesthetic taste), looked after the\ndairy, and helped the men in the lighter parts of their industries.\n\nVarious inventions, known only to the occult sisterhood by means of their\nstudies in the esoteric science of mechanics, contributed to shorten\nthese labours to an extent which would be scarcely credited by the\nuninitiated; but some idea of their nature may be formed from the fact\nthat methods of storing and applying electricity, unknown as yet in the\nWest, have here been in operation for many centuries, while telephones,\nflying-machines, and many other contrivances still in their infancy with\nus, are carried to a high pitch of perfection.  In a word, what struck me\nat once as the fundamental difference between this sisterhood and the\nfraternity of adepts with which I had been associated, was that the\nformer turned all their occult experiences to practical account in their\ndaily life in this world, instead of reserving them solely for the\nsubjective conditions which are supposed by _mahatmas_ to attach\nexclusively to another state of existence.\n\nOwing to these appliances the heavy work of the day was got through\nusually in time for a late breakfast, the plates and dishes being washed\nup and the knives cleaned by a mechanical process scarcely occupying two\nminutes; and the afternoon was usually devoted to the instruction of\n_chelas_ in esoteric branches of learning, and their practical\napplication to mundane affairs, until the cool of the evening, when\nparties would be made up either for playing out-of-door games, in the\nless violent of which the women took part, or in riding the beautiful\nhorses of the country, or in flying swiftly over its richly cultivated\nand variegated surface, paying visits to other _damas_ or homes, each of\nwhich was occupied on the same scale and in the same manner as our own.\nAfter a late dinner, we usually had concerts, balls, and private\ntheatricals.\n\nOn the day following my arrival, Ushas explained to me the relationship\nin which we were to stand towards each other.  She said that marriage was\nan institution as yet unknown to them, because their organisms had not\nyet attained the conditions to which they were struggling.  They had\nprogressed so far, however, that they had discovered the secret of\neternal youth.  Indeed, Ushas herself was 590 years old.  I was not\nsurprised at this, as something of the same kind has occurred more than\nonce to _rishis_ or very advanced _mahatmas_.  As a rule, however, they\nare too anxious to go to _nirvana_, to stay on earth a moment longer than\nnecessary, and prefer rather to come back at intervals: this, we all\nknow, has occurred at least six times in the case of Buddha, as Mr\nSinnett so well explains.  At the same time Ushas announced without\nwords, but with a slight blush, and a smile of ineffable tenderness, that\nfrom the day of my birth she knew that I was destined to be her future\nhusband, and that at the appointed time we should be brought together.  We\nnow had our period of probation to go through together, and she told me\nthat all the other _chelas_ here were going through the necessary\ntraining preparatory to wedlock like myself, and that there would be a\ngeneral marrying all round, when the long-expected culminating epoch\nshould arrive.\n\nMeantime, in order to enter upon the first stage of my new _chela_-ship,\nit became necessary for me to forget all the experiences which I had\nacquired during the last twenty years of my life, as she explained that\nit would be impossible for my mind to receive the new truths which I had\nnow to learn so long as I clung to what she called \"the fantasies\" of my\n_mahatma_-ship.  I cannot describe the pang which this announcement\nproduced.  Still I felt that nothing must impede my search after truth;\nand I could not conceal from myself that, if in winning it I also won\nUshas, I was not to be pitied.  Nor to this day have I ever had reason to\nregret the determination at which I then arrived.\n\nIt would be impossible for me in the compass of this article to describe\nall my experiences in the new life to which I dedicated myself, nor\nindeed would it be proper to do so; suffice it to say, that I progressed\nbeyond my Ushas' most sanguine expectations.  And here I would remark,\nthat I found my chief stimulus to exertion to be one which had been\ncompletely wanting in my former experience.  It consisted simply in this,\nthat altruism had been substituted for egotism.  Formerly, I made the\nmost herculean spiritual effort to tide myself over the great period of\ndanger--the middle of the fifth round.  \"That,\" as Mr Sinnett correctly\nsays, \"is the stupendous achievement of the adept as regards his own\npersonal interests;\" and of course our own interests were all that I or\nany of the other _mahatmas_ ever thought of.  \"He has reached,\" pursues\nour author, \"the farther shore of the sea in which so many of mankind\nwill perish.  He waits there, in a contentment which people cannot even\nrealise without some glimmering of spirituality--the sixth\nsense--themselves, for the arrival of his future companions.\"  This is\nperfectly true.  I always found that the full enjoyment of this sixth\nsense among _mahatmas_ was heightened just in proportion to the numbers\nof other people who perish, so long as you were safe yourself.\n\nHere among the Sisters, on the other hand, the principle which was\ninculcated was, \"Never mind if you perish yourself, so long as you can\nsave others;\" and indeed the whole effort was to elaborate such a system\nby means of the concentration of spiritual forces upon earth, as should\nbe powerful enough to redeem it from its present dislocated and unhappy\ncondition.  To this end had the efforts of the Sisters been directed for\nso many centuries, and I had reason to believe that the time was not far\ndistant when we should emerge from our retirement to be the saviours and\nbenefactors of the whole human race.  It followed from this, of course,\nthat I retained all the supernatural faculties which I had acquired as a\n_mahatma_, and which I now determined to use, not for my own benefit as\nformerly, but for that of my fellow-creatures, and was soon able--thanks\nto additional faculties, acquired under Ushas' tutorship--to flit about\nthe world in my astral body without inconvenience.\n\nI happened to be in London on business the other day in this ethereal\ncondition, when Mr Sinnett's book appeared, and I at once projected it on\nthe astral current to Thibet.  I immediately received a communication\nfrom Ushas to the effect that it compelled some words of reply from the\nsisterhood, and a few days since I received them.  I regret that it has\nbeen necessary to occupy so much of the reader's time with personal\ndetails.  They were called for in order that he should understand the\nsource of my information, and my peculiar qualifications for imparting\nit.  It will be readily understood, after my long connection with the\nThibetan brotherhood, how painful it must be to me to be the instrument\nchosen not merely of throwing a doubt upon \"the absolute truth concerning\nnature, man, the origin of the universe, and the destinies toward which\nits inhabitants are tending,\" to use Mr Sinnett's own words, but actually\nto demolish the whole structure of Esoteric Buddhism!  Nor would I do\nthis now were it not that the publication of the book called by that name\nhas reluctantly compelled the sisterhood to break their long silence.  If\nthe Thibetan Brothers had only held their tongues and kept their secret\nas they have done hitherto, they would not now be so rudely disturbed by\nthe Thibetan Sisters.\n\n* * * * *\n\n\"The Sisters of Thibet,\" writes Ushas, of course with an astral pen in\nastral ink, \"owe their origin to a circumstance which occurred in the\ntime of Sankaracharya, erroneously supposed by the initiated to be an\nincarnation of Buddha.  This teacher, who lived more than a century\nbefore the Christian era, dwelt chiefly upon the necessity of pursuing\n_gnyanam_ in order to obtain _moksha_--that is to say, the importance of\nsecret knowledge to spiritual progress, and the consummation thereof.  And\nhe even went so far as to maintain that a man ought to keep all such\nknowledge secret from his wife.  Now the wife of Sankaracharya, whose\nname was Nandana, 'she who rejoices,' was a woman of very profound occult\nattainments; and when she found that her husband was acquiring knowledges\nwhich he did not impart to her, she did not upbraid him, but laboured all\nthe more strenuously in her own sphere of esoteric science, and she even\ndiscovered that all esoteric science had a twofold element in\nit--masculine and feminine--and that all discoveries of occult mysteries\nengaged in by man alone, were, so to speak, lop-sided, and therefore\nvalueless.  So she conveyed herself secretly, by processes familiar to\nher, away from her husband, and took refuge in this region of Thibet in\nwhich we now dwell, and which, with all his knowledges, Sankaracharya was\nnever able to discover, for they were all subjective, and dealt not with\nthe material things of this world.  And she associated herself here in\nthe pursuit of knowledge with a learned man called Svasar, 'he who is\nfriendly,' who considered secret knowledge merely the means to an end,\nand even spiritual progress valuable only in so far as it could be used\nto help others; and they studied deep mysteries as brother and sister\ntogether--and he had been a _mahatma_ or _rishi_ of the highest\ngrade--and, owing to the aid he derived from his female associate, he\ndiscovered that the subjective conditions of _nirvana_ and _devachan_\nwere the result of one-sided male imaginings which had their origin in\nmale selfishness; and this conviction grew in him in the degree in which\nthe Parthivi Mutar, or 'Earth Mother,' became incarnated in Nandana.  Thus\nwas revealed to him the astounding fact that the whole system of the\noccult adepts had originated in the natural brains of men who had given\nthemselves up to egotistical transcendental speculation--in fact, I\ncannot better describe the process than in the words of Mr Sinnett\nhimself, where he alludes to 'the highly cultivated devotees to be met\nwith occasionally in India, who build up a conception of nature, the\nuniverse and God, entirely on a metaphysical basis, and who have evolved\ntheir systems by sheer force of transcendental thinking--who will take\nsome established system of philosophy as its groundwork, and amplify on\nthis to an extent which only an oriental metaphysician could dream of.'\n\n\"This, Mr Sinnett chooses to assume, was not the fact with the Thibet\nBrothers; but, in reality, this was just what they did.  The fact that\nthey have outstripped other similar transcendentalists is due to the\ncircumstance that the original founders of the system were men of more\npowerful will and higher attainments than any who have succeeded them.\nAnd on their death they formed a compact spiritual society in the other\nworld, impregnating the wills and imaginations of their disciples still\non earth with their fantastic theories, which they still retain there, of\na planetary chain, and the spiral advance of the seven rounds, and the\nseptenary law, and all the rest of it.  In order for human beings to come\ninto these occult knowledges, it is necessary, as Mr Sinnett admits, for\nthe adepts to go into trance-conditions--in other words, to lose all\ncontrol of their normal, or as they would probably call them, their\nobjective faculties.  While in this condition, they are the sport of any\ninvisible intelligences that choose to play upon them; but fearing lest\nthey may be accused of this, they erroneously assert that no such\nintelligences of a high order have cognisance of what happens in this\nworld.  The fact that _mahatmas_ have powers which appear supernatural\nproves nothing, as Mr Sinnett also admits that innumerable _fakirs_ and\n_yojis_ possess these as well, whose authority on occultism he deems of\nno account, when he says that 'careless inquirers are very apt to\nconfound such persons with the great adepts of whom they vaguely hear.'\nThere can be no better evidence of the falsity of the whole conception\nthan you are yourself.  For to prove to you that you were the sport of a\ndelusion, although your own experience as a _mahatma_ in regard to the\nsecret processes of nature, and the sensations attendant upon subjective\nconditions, exactly corresponded to those of all other _mahatmas_, you\nhave, under my tutelage, at various times allowed yourself to fall into\ntrance-conditions, when, owing to occult influences which we have brought\nto bear, a totally different idea concerning 'nature, man, the origin of\nthe universe, and the destinies toward which its inhabitants are\ntending,' was presented to your sixth sense, which appeared 'absolute\ntruth' at the time, and which would have continued to seem so, had I not\nhad the power of intromitting you through trance-conditions into a\ntotally different set of apparent truths on the same subject, which were\nno more to be relied upon than the other.  The fact is, that no seer, be\nhe Hindoo, Buddhist, Christian, or of any other religion, is to be\ndepended upon the moment he throws himself into abnormal organic\nconditions.  We see best, as you have now learnt, into the deepest\nmysteries with all our senses about us.  And the discovery of this great\nfact was due to woman; and it is for this reason that _mahatmas_ shrink\nfrom female _chelas_--they are afraid of them.  According to their\nphilosophy, women play a poor part in the system of the universe, and\ntheir chances of reaching the blissful condition of _nirvana_ are\npractically not to be compared with those of the men.\n\n\"There is no such thing as subjectivity apart from objectivity.  Mr\nSinnett very properly tells you 'that occult science regards force and\nmatter as identical, and that it contemplates no principle in nature as\nwholly immaterial.  The clue to the mystery involved,' he goes on to say,\n'lies in the fact, directly cognisable by occult experts, that matter\nexists in other states than those which are cognisable by the five\nsenses;' but it does not become only cognisable subjectively on that\naccount.  You know very well, as an old _mahatma_, that you can cognise\nmatter now with your sixth sense as well as with your five while in a\nperfectly normal condition, that you could not cognise except in trance-\nconditions before, and which even then you could only cognise\nincorrectly.  The much-vaunted sixth sense of _mahatmas_ needs sharpening\nas much as their logic, for you can no more separate subjectivity from\nobjectivity than you can separate mind from matter.  Christians, if they\ndesire it, have a right to a heaven of subjective bliss, because they\nconsider that they become immaterial when they go there; but Buddhists,\nwho admit that they are in a sense material while in _devachan_ or\n_nirvana_, and deny that their consciousness in that condition is in the\nsame sense objective as well as subjective, talk sheer nonsense.\"  Ushas\nused a stronger expression here, but out of consideration for my old\n_mahatma_ friends, I suppress it.\n\n\"'_Devachan_', says our Guru--speaking through his disciple in order to\nescape from this dilemma--'will seem as real as the chairs and tables\nround us; and remember that above all things, to the profound philosophy\nof occultism, are the chairs and tables, and the whole objective scenery\nof the world, unreal and merely transitory delusions of sense.'  If, as\nhe admits, they are material, why should they be more unreal than the\nchairs and tables in _devachan_, which are also material, since occult\nscience contemplates no principle in nature as wholly immaterial?  The\nfact is, that there is no more unreal and transitory delusion of sense\nthan those 'states' known to the adepts as _devachan_ or _nirvana_; they\nare mere dreamlands, invented by metaphysicians, and lived in by them\nafter death--which are used by them to encourage a set of dreamers here\nto evade the practical duties which they owe to their fellow-men in this\nworld.  'Hence it is possible,' says our author, 'for yet living persons\nto have visions of _devachan_, though such visions are rare and only one-\nsided, the entities in _devachan_, sighted by the earthly clairvoyant,\nbeing quite unconscious themselves of undergoing such observation.'  This\nis an erroneous and incorrect assumption on the Guru's part.  'The spirit\nof the clairvoyant,' he goes on, 'ascends into the condition of\n_devachan_ in such rare visions, and thus becomes subject to the vivid\ndelusions of that existence.'  Vivid delusions indeed, the fatal\nconsequences of which are, that they separate their votaries from the\npractical duties of life, and create a class of idle visionaries who,\nwrapping themselves in their own vain conceits, would stand by and allow\ntheir fellow-creatures to starve to death, because, as Mr Sinnett frankly\ntells us, 'if spiritual existence, vivid subjective consciousness, really\ndoes go on for periods greater than the periods of intellectual physical\nexistence, in the ratio, as we have seen in discussing the devachanic\ncondition, of 80 to 1 at least, then surely man's subjective existence is\nmore important than his physical existence and intellect in error, when\nall its efforts are bent on the amelioration of the physical existence.'\n\n\"This is the ingenious theory which the Brothers of Thibet have devised\nto release them from acknowledging that they have any other Brothers in\nthis world to whom they are under sacred obligations besides themselves,\nand which, owing to the selfish principle that underlies it, has a\ntendency to sap the foundations of all morality.  So that we have this\nnineteenth-century apostle of Esoteric Buddhism venturing to assert to\nhis Western readers that 'it is not so rough a question as that--whether\nman be wicked or virtuous--which must really, at the final critical\nturning-point, decide whether he shall continue to live and develop into\nhigher phases of existence, or cease to live altogether.'  We, the\nSisters of Thibet, repudiate and denounce in the strongest terms any such\ndoctrine as the logical outcome either of the moral precepts of Buddha or\nof the highest esoteric science.  Let the Brothers of Thibet beware of\nany longer cherishing the delusion that the Sisters of Thibet, because\ntheir existence is purely objective, 'are therefore unreal and merely\ntransitory delusions of sense.'  We also have a secret to reveal--the\nresult of twenty centuries of occult learning--and we formally announce\nto you, the so-called adepts of occult science, that if you persist in\ndisseminating any more of your deleterious metaphysical compounds in this\nworld under the name of Esoteric Buddhism, we will not only no longer\nrefrain, as we have hitherto done, from tormenting you in your subjective\nconditions while still in your _rupas_, but, by virtue of the occult\npowers we possess, will poison the elements of _devachan_ until\nsubjective existence becomes intolerable there for your fifth and sixth\nprinciples,--your _manas_ and your _buddhis_,--and _nirvana_ itself will\nbe converted into hell.\"\n\n\n\n\nADOLPHUS: A COMEDY OF AFFINITIES.\n\n\n_Dramatis personae_.\n\nThe HON. ADOLPHUS GRESHAM.\n\nThe EARL OF GULES.\n\nADOLPHUS PLUMPER.\n\nMr FLAMM.\n\nLADY ELAINE BENDORE.\n\nThe COUNTESS OF GULES.\n\nMrs PLUMPER.\n\nCHARLES.\n\n\n\nSCENE I.--A railway carriage.  The Earl and Countess of Gules--Lady\nElaine Bendore--The Hon. Adolphus Gresham.\n\n\n_Elaine_.  I must really beg of you to stop, Mr Gresham.  You cannot\nthink how you pain and surprise me.  I am sure I never had the least\nidea!  Besides, supposing papa or mamma should hear you.\n\n_Adolphus_.  Lord Gules is asleep, and her ladyship is absorbed in her\nnovel; besides, you may be sure that I have taken care to ascertain their\nsentiments before I venture to say what I have to you.  Oh, Elaine, if I\ncould but hope!\n\n_Train stops_.  _Guard_ [_looking in_].  All the smoking-carriages are\nengaged, gentlemen; but you'll find room in here.\n\n[_Enter_ Adolphus Plumper _and_ Mr Flamm.  Flamm _seats himself opposite_\nElaine, _and_ Plumper _opposite_ Adolphus.\n\n_Flamm_ [_aside to_ Plumper].  By Jove, Plumper! you never told me you\nhad a twin brother.  Polish up your spectacles, old man--you've made 'em\ndamp by that race we had to catch the train--and look at your\n_vis-a-vis_.\n\n[Plumper _takes off his spectacles with great deliberation, wipes them,\nputs them on again, and stares at_ Adolphus.\n\n_Plumper_ [_aside_] _stammering_.  Dud-dud-dud-do you see a likeness?  Dud-\ndud-dud-don't see it myself.  He's bab-bab-bab-bald, and he's not sh-sh-\nsh-ort-sighted.\n\n_Fl_.  Probably he doesn't stammer either.  I'll try presently.\nPositively, if he wore spectacles and a wig of your hair, I shouldn't\nknow you apart.\n\n_Lady Gules_ [_aside to_ Elaine].  Did you ever see anything more\nextraordinary, my dear?  What a horrid caricature of our dear Adolphus\nGresham!\n\n_El_. [_aside_].  I can't say I agree with you, mamma.  I think he has a\nmore intelligent expression--more soul, I should say.\n\n_Lady G_.  You are quite ridiculous, Elaine.  Half the girls in London\nhave bean setting their caps at Mr Gresham for the last few seasons, till\nthey have given him up as invulnerable; and now that you have a chance of\nbecoming one of the richest peeresses in England, you do nothing but snub\nhim.  He is as clever and charming as he will be rich when his father\ndies, and is certain to become a Cabinet Minister some day.  He's\nconsidered the most rising young man of his party.\n\n_El_.  That he may easily be, considering he is a Conservative.  Oh,\nmamma! how can you suppose that I would ever marry a Conservative?\n\n_Lady G_.  I have no patience with you, Elaine; a nice mess your Radicals\nhave made of it with Egypt and Ireland.  But we won't go into that now;\nonly remember this, if he proposes, and you don't accept him, your father\nand I will be seriously displeased.\n\n_El_. [_sighing_].  I'm sure the gentleman opposite is a friend of the\npeople.  See! he's reading the 'Pall Mall.'  [_Aside to_ Adolphus.] Mamma\nhas just been telling me that she sees such a strange likeness between\nyou and your opposite neighbour.\n\n_Ad_.  Ah!  Plumper--if the name on his hat-box is to be believed; A.\nPlumper, too.  I wonder whether A. stands for Adolphus?  I don't feel\nflattered.\n\n_El_.  Now that is nothing but Tory prejudice.  I am sure he looks very\ndistinguished, though his name is Plumper.  I have no doubt he's a self-\nmade man.\n\n_Pl_.  Pup-pup-pup-pardon me, madam; shall I put the window up?  I see\nyou feel the dud-dud-dud-draught.\n\n_El_.  Thank you.  No; I prefer it open.  But may I ask you to lend me\nyour 'Echo'? it's a paper I like so much, and so seldom see.\n\n_Fl_.  Cheap, but not nasty; enjoys a vast circulation among the middle\nclasses.  The Conservatives are as far behind us in journalistic capacity\nas they are in parliamentary eloquence.\n\n_Pl_.  You must make allowances for my friend.  He's on the pup-pup-pup-\npress himself, and expects shortly to get into Pup-pup-pup-Parliament.\n\n_El_.  Oh, I do so hope he will!  You don't think there is a reaction\nsetting in, do you?  Papa says that Mr Gladstone is losing his hold on\nthe country.\n\n_Lord Gules_ [_awaking with a snort_].  Not, however, before the country\nhas lost its hold upon him.  He cares no more for his country, sir, than\nI do for the Chinese in California.  He's a traitor, sir, to his\nprinciples; he's--\n\n_El_.  Oh, papa, do stop!--here we are at the Victoria--and we have no\nright to judge any one so harshly.  I assure you such strong expressions\nonly make me feel more and more convinced how wrong you must be.  [_To_\nPlumper, _handing back his paper_.]  Thank you so much.  I'm so sorry I\nhave not had time to read it.\n\n_Lady G_.  Good-bye, Mr Gresham; remember that you have promised to dine\nwith us to-morrow night.  We shall be quite alone; but I am sure you\ndon't care about a party.\n\n_Ad_.  I need not say with what pleasure I shall look forward to it.  _Au\nrevoir_, Lady Elaine.  [_Aside_.]  You do not know how you have been\ntempting me to abandon all my cherished political convictions for your\nsake.  It is to be hoped that the Radicals will not follow up their\nsuccess with the caucus by organising the young ladies of their party and\nletting them loose on society as propagandists of their Utopian ideas and\npolitical fallacies.\n\n[_Exeunt omnes_.\n\n\n\nSCENE II.--Lady Gules's Boudoir.  Elaine and Adolphus.\n\n\n_Ad_.  Dear Lady Elaine, Lady Gules has given me special permission and\nopportunity to explain myself more fully than was possible yesterday.\nPlease tell me why you were so surprised at what I said, and why you\nthink me so very objectionable?\n\n_El_.  I don't think you at all objectionable, Mr Gresham, as a member of\nsociety; on the contrary, I think you charming; though I do feel that,\nmagnetically, we are wide as the poles asunder!  Oh, believe me, we have\nno grounds of common sympathy, either in matters of philosophical,\npolitical, or religious thought--and above all, in art!  You seem to lack\nthat enthusiasm for humanity which could alone constitute an affinity\nbetween us.  I was surprised, because I had hoped to find in you an\nintelligent companion; and mortified at the discovery that you could not\nrise to higher ground than that of an ordinary admirer,--men in these\ndays seem to think that women have no other _raison d'etre_ except to be\nmade love to.\n\n_Ad_.  I do not think that is a new idea, Lady Elaine; but is it\nabsolutely necessary, in order that you should return the deep affection\nI feel for you, that we should agree politically, philosophically,\ntheologically, and aesthetically?  In old days women did not trouble\nthemselves on these matters, but trusted to their hearts rather than to\ntheir heads to guide their affections.\n\n_El_.  And so I do now.  I feel instinctively that we are not kindred\nspirits; that the mysterious chord of sympathy which vibrates in the\nheart of a girl with the first tone of the voice of the man she is\ndestined to love, does not exist between us.  Oh, indeed, indeed, Mr\nGresham, although I adore Frederic Harrison as a thinker, as much as I\ndislike Mr Mallock--though I read every word he writes as a duty--I am\nnot destitute of romance.  I am a profound believer in the doctrine of\naffinity.  Who that accepts, as I do, the marvellous teaching of Comte,\nand remembers that the highest ideas which it contains were inspired by a\nwoman, could fail to be?  But I shall know the man towards whom I am\ndestined to occupy the relation that Comte's Countess did to him, at a\nglance.  No words will need to pass between us to assure us that we are\none in sentiment.  It will be as impossible for him to be indifferent to\nelevating the taste of the masses in matters of domestic detail, or be\notherwise wanting in a whole-hearted devotion to the service of humanity,\nor to scoff at the theory of evolution, as it would be for him to accept\nthe errors and superstitions of an obsolete theology, or the antiquated\ndogmas of the Conservatives about landed property.\n\n_Ad_.  And if I fulfilled all these conditions, so far as a thorough\nphilosophical and political sympathy was concerned, would that avail me\nnothing to produce this hidden affinity?\n\n_El_.  Absolutely nothing.  In the first place, you could not pretend to\nbelieve and feel what you did not believe and feel; and in the second, if\nyou could, I should instantly sense the absence of that internal\nattraction towards each other which would be irresistible in both.  You\nwere right, Mr Gresham, when you said the heart and not the head should\nbe the guide; and I trust it absolutely--so give up a hope which must be\nvain.  Believe me, I feel deeply pained at having to speak so decidedly,\nbut it is better that you should be under no delusion.  Still, do not let\nme lose you as a friend whom I shall always esteem.  You will soon get\nover it, and will have no difficulty in finding a wife who will suit you\nfar better than I should ever have done.\n\n_Ad_.  There, believe me, you are mistaken; but it is a point impossible\nto discuss.  Good-bye, Lady Elaine.  Thanks for your frankness and\npatience with me.  Perhaps I shall get over it, as you say.  I shall take\nrefuge in my yacht, and try the curative effect of a cruise round the\nworld.  It will be a year at least before we meet again.  [_Exit_\nAdolphus.\n\n_El_.  Poor Adolphus! how absolutely impossible is love, where the hidden\nsympathy of soul is wanting!--and yet how nice he is [_sighs_], and how\nmanfully he accepted his fate!  What philosophy can really explain the\nmystery of that magnetic affinity called love, which so unaccountably\nexercises its attracting influences over the whole animal creation, and\nmost probably over plants?  If it is a latent potentiality of matter, how\ndid it get there?  Now for a scene with mamma.\n\n[_Exit_ Elaine.\n\n\n\nSCENE III.--The Countess of Gules's Boudoir.  Lady Gules and Lady Elaine\nreading.  Enter Charles with card and letter.\n\n\n_El_. [_reading card_].  Mr Adolphus Plumper!  Is the gentleman coming up-\nstairs, Charles?\n\n_Charles_.  No, my lady; he only left the card and this letter, and said\nhe would call again. [_Exit_ Charles.\n\n_El_. [_opening letter_].  From Mr Gresham, mamma, dated Naples.\n[_Reads_.]  \"DEAR ELAINE,--I felt so much touched by the kindness of your\nlast words to me when we parted, that I venture to hope that it may\ninterest you to know, as a friend, how it has fared with me since I left\nEngland.  The curative process does not seem to have fairly set in yet,\nbut I am going to try the effect of a little mild excitement by joining\nthe demonstrating fleets at Alexandria.  For a month past I have been\nidling here; and curiously enough, the first person I stumbled upon in\nthe Chiaja Gardens was Mr Adolphus Plumper--our railway companion on the\nonly journey I ever had the happiness to take with you, and who seated\nhimself by my side on a bench to which I had resorted for a quiet cigar.\nAs there are few foreigners here at this season, we have been thrown\nalmost daily together, and I have been quite delighted to find how very\nmuch superior he is to what I thought he _looked_ when you honoured me by\npointing out our resemblance.  I ought to speak highly of him, for he\nsaved my life.  I took him a cruise in my yacht, and the gig in which we\nwere landing one day was upset in some breakers.  I had been stunned, and\nshould have been drowned had he not come to the rescue; and I really feel\nthat for this and some other reasons which I will explain when we meet, I\nowe him a debt of gratitude that I can never hope to repay.  Although he\nis too retiring by nature to say so, I could see, when I made some\nlaughing allusions to the occasion of our first meeting, that he would be\nglad to continue to make the acquaintance of Lord and Lady Gules--in\nother words, to continue the political discussion he then commenced with\nyou.  Singular to state, he is an admirer of Congreve and all that\nschool, so I am sure you will have plenty of topics in common.  Mr\nPlumper has made an enormous fortune as a contractor, and now chiefly\noccupies himself with works of charity and benevolence.  One of his\nspecial hobbies is the introduction of the aesthetic principle into\n_Kindergartens_.  I have given him a hint not to introduce his vulgar\nfriend Flamm--pardon me the expression, though he is a Radical.  I have\ngiven Plumper a few lines to Lady Gules.  Please do all you can to\novercome the prejudice against him which both she and Lord Gules are sure\nto entertain; and believe me, yours faithfully,\n\n\"ADOLPHUS GRESHAM.\"\n\n_Lady G_.  A Radical, a plutocrat, and an infidel!  That is a mixture\nthat ought to suit you, Elaine.\n\n_El_.  Quite as well as a Tory, a spendthrift, and a bigot, which is the\none I usually meet in society, mamma.  But please do not let us quarrel.\nI always try to be polite to your mixtures.  For Mr Gresham's sake, be\ncivil to mine.\n\n_Lady G_.  For Mr Gresham's sake, indeed!  What have you done for Mr\nGresham's sake that puts me under an obligation to him?  However, I\nsuppose we must ask the man to dinner.  Is there any address on his card?\n\n_El_.  20 Heavitree Gardens.\n\n_Lady G_.  One of those millionaire palaces, I suppose, in the back\nregions of South Kensington.  The carriage is waiting, so I shall leave\nyou to write the invitation.  You had better ask him for Tuesday, when we\nhave got some people coming to dinner.\n\n[_Exit_ Lady Gules.\n\n_El_. [_taking up the letter, reads_].  \"Now chiefly occupies himself\nwith works of charity and benevolence.  One of his special hobbies is the\nintroduction of aesthetic principles into _Kindergartens_.\"  How\nrefreshing to meet a man at last who takes a living interest in the\nwelfare of his fellow-creatures!  I am sure I shall like him. [ _Writes,\nand rings the bell_.]\n\n_Enter_ Charles.\n\n_Lady E_.  Please put this in the post, Charles.  [_Exit_ Charles.]  Now\nI must go and get ready to go out riding with papa, and reconcile him to\nthe dreadful idea of having \"a Radical, a plutocrat, and an infidel\" at\nhis dinner-table.  [_Exit_ Elaine.\n\n(_A month elapses_.)\n\n\n\nSCENE IV.--Lady Gules's Boudoir.  Lord and Lady Gules.\n\n\n_Lord G_.  I tell you what it is, my dear--we've only known that fellow\nPlumper a month, and he has already completely captivated Elaine with his\n_Kindergarten_, and his sunflowers, and his hatred of the landed interest\nand Irish coercion, and love of the _cloture_ and humanity, and Buddha\nand Brahma, and Zoroaster and Mahomet, and all the rest of them.  I must\nreally take steps to find out whether Gresham was well informed about his\nreputed wealth.  I shall ride down and take a look at 20 Heavitree\nGardens to-morrow.  I haven't met a single man at the Club who has ever\nheard of him.\n\n_Lady G_.  It's no use: if he should turn out a pauper, or even a\nswindler, I am afraid Elaine will marry him.  I saw it in her eye last\nnight; and so, I should think, did he.  He certainly can't complain of\nnot receiving encouragement.  I only wonder that he has not yet proposed.\nI believe the man to be capable of any act of audacity, in spite of his\nlanguid manner, and his long hair, and short-sightedness, and his\nstammer.\n\n_Enter_ Elaine.\n\n_Lord G_.  Are you coming to ride with me, or going out to drive with\nyour mother, Elaine?\n\n_El_.  Neither, dear papa.  I am too busy finishing a paper I am writing\non the \"Chiton; or, Clothing for the masses on the principles of the\nideal of the ancient Greeks,\" for the next meeting of the Women's Dress\nReform Association.\n\n_Lord G_.  Well, take care you make them put enough on.  Remember the\nclimate, if you ignore other considerations.\n\n_Lady G_.  And pray do not so far overstep the bounds of maidenly modesty\nas to consult your Mr Plumper on the subject.\n\n[_Exit_ Lord _and_ Lady Gules.\n\n_El_. [_sighing_].  My Mr Plumper!  Ah, Adolphus, there is not a fibre in\nour bodies or souls--and why should not souls have fibres?--that does not\nvibrate in harmony!  We are like AEolian harps that make the same music\nto the same airs of the affections, while electrically our brains respond\nsympathetically to the same wave-current of idea.  Emotionally,\nintellectually, we are one.  Why should I allow an absurd custom of\nconventional civilisation, degrading to the sex, to prevent my telling\nhim so?  What more inherent right can be vested by nature in a woman than\nthat of telling a man that she loves him, and that, therefore, he belongs\nto her?  Hark! his step.  My Adolphus!\n\n_Enter_ Adolphus.\n\n_Ad_.  I have ventured to kuk-kuk-kuk-call, Lady Elaine, with the pap-pap-\npattern I promised of female attire suited to all classes; for why should\nwe recognise any did-did-distinction between the folds which drape the\nform of the aristocrat and the pop-pop-pauper?  It is all in\nkuk-kuk-curves and circles; there is not a straight line about it worn\nthus.  See how graciously it flows!  [_Puts his head through a hole in\nthe middle_.]  But allow me; your form will do far more justice to it\nthan mine.  [_Takes it off and puts it on_ Lady Elaine.]  Ah, how\ndivinely precious!  [_Gazes with rapture_.  Lady Elaine _sits down in\nit_.]\n\n_El_.  Dear Adolphus, why should this strained conventional formality\nexist any longer between us?  Can we not read each other's thoughts?  Can\nwe not feel each other's hearts beating in sweet accord?  Are we not\nformed and fashioned for each other?  Let this exquisite garment, which\nwe have both worn, be the symbol of that internal robe which costumes our\nunited souls, woven from the texture of our affections.\n\n_Ad_. [_falling on his knees, kisses its hem_].  Sweet symbol of\nsanctified intuitions!  Tit-tit-tit-transparent--though it may seem tot-\ntot-tolerably thick; for does it not reveal to me the workings of the\nsoul of my beb-beb-beloved?  Ah, Elaine, how trifling do earthly\ntreasures seem, compared with those of the affections!  You will be mine,\nfor ever mine, dud-dud-darling, will you not--even though I may not have\nthe riches I am supposed to possess?\n\n_El_.  Oh, Adolphus! how can you ask me such a question?  What is the\nwealth of the pocket as compared with the wealth of the soul!\n\n_Ad_.  True! oh, quite intensely true!--for how sweetly sings the poet\nOscar on this theme!--\n\n   \"As like miners we explore\n   Hidden treasures in the soul,\n   And we pip-pip-pick the amorous ore\n   Firmly bedded in its hole;\n   New emotions come to light,\n   Flashing in affections' rays,\n   Scintillating to the sight,\n   With a tit-tit-tit-transcendental bib-bib-bib-blaze,\n   Warming us until we burn\n   With a glow of sacred fire,\n   And as coals to diamonds turn,\n   Sparkling in us with did-did-did-desire.\"\n\n_El_.  Oh, quite, quite too lovely!  Come, Adolphus--why should we linger\nhere, now that our troths are plighted?  Why should we not at once brave\nthe world together?  I need the sweet scents of the air, the rustle of\nleaves, the singing of birds, the chattering of monkeys, and the hum of\nnature.  Let us go, my love, and walk in the Zoo.\n\n_Ad_. [_rising_].  Dud-dud-dud-do you intend to keep that on?\n\n_El_.  What on?\n\n_Ad_.  This mystic garment of kuk-kuk-curves and circles.\n\n_El_.  No; I will keep it for a pattern and a sweet reminiscence.  Now I\nwill go and put on my Louis Quatorze hat, and be back in a moment, if you\nwill go and call a hansom.\n\n[_Exit_ Elaine.\n\n[Adolphus _bursts into a fit of uncontrollable laughter_.\n\n[_Exit laughing_.\n\n\n\nSCENE V.--The Zoological Gardens.\n\n\n_El_.  How sweet are these sights and sounds when hallowed by the\nconsciousness of a beloved presence!  How one glows with affection\ntowards every object in nature!  Adolphus, dear, don't you feel, with me,\nthat our hearts warm towards the hippopotamus?\n\n_Ad_.  Mine is positively beating with the violence of my affection for\nhim.  If he was not so wet and bib-bib-big, I could throw my arms round\nhim.  Dear hippop-pop-pop-pop-otamoms!\n\n_El_.  Oh, look! there is that gentleman who got into the train with you\non the blessed day that we first met.  Mr Flamm, I think Mr Gresham said\nhis name was.\n\n_Enter_ Flamm.\n\n_Flamm_.  Ah, Plumper, how are you, old man?  I was looking for you\neverywhere.  Why, what have you done with Mrs Plumper and the children?\n\n_Ad_.  My mother and her little grandchildren, you mean.  I was not aware\nthat they were to come here to-day.\n\n_Fl_.  Your mother! and grandchildren!  Why, what the dev---  Oh, ah,\nahem!  [_Aside_.]  I see--mum's the word.  Oh fie! sly dog!  Naughty,\nnaughty!--but so nice!  [_Whispers_.]  You are quite safe with me.\n[_Aloud_.]  Yes, dear old lady--she's getting too old to walk much now.\n[_Aside_.]  I only hope we shan't meet the young one.  A jolly row\nthere'll be!\n\n_El_.  I hope soon to have the pleasure of being introduced to Mr\nPlumper's mother.  I am sure I shall like her.\n\n_Fl_.  Oh, I am sure you will; she is the dearest, most delightful old\nlady!  [_Aside_.]  At least I hope she is by this time, for she was a\nhorrid old cat up to the day of her death, ten years ago.  By Jove! here\ncome Mrs Plumper and the young uns.  Now for it!\n\n_Enter_ Mrs Plumper.\n\n_Mrs Plumper_.  Why, Adolphus, where have you been?  Excuse me, madam; I\ndid not see that you were upon my husband's arm.  Perhaps he'll have the\ngoodness to present his wife to you.\n\n_El_.  His wife! her husband!  [_Screams--faints_.]\n\n_Mrs P_.  Yes, madam.  You may well scream, \"His wife! her husband!\" and\nthen pretend to faint.  Who else's wife do you suppose I am?\n\n_Ad_.  I am sorry I have no time for explanation now, as I must attend to\nthis young lady; but if you will have the kindness to hold my hat, Mr\nFlamm.  [_Hands his hat to_ Flamm.]  And you, madam, to take care of\nthese.  [_Takes off his wig and spectacles and hands them to_ Mrs\nPlumper.]  Your own senses will explain a good deal.  As you may have\nalready discovered, I am not Mr Plumper at all; in fact, I perceive him\napproaching.  Help me to hold her head a little higher, please Mr Flamm;\nand Mrs Plumper, kindly undo the back of her dress, or her stays, or her\n_chiton_, or whatever is underneath, and let go everything generally, so\nas to give her a chance of breathing.\n\n_Enter_ Plumper.\n\n_Fl_.  Here, Plumper, you're a medical man, just come in the nick of\ntime.  This gentleman here has been personating you for some reason or\nother, and the discovery caused the young lady to faint.  Mysterious,\nisn't it?\n\n_Ad_.  Not at all, when you come to know the circumstances.  Here is my\ncard; and you will find me ready to make any apology or offer you any\nsatisfaction you may require.  Meantime, Dr Plumper, let me implore you\nto assist me in bringing her to.\n\n_Pl_.  There now, my gug-gug-good lady, take a smell of this.  There now,\nwe are beginning to feel beb-beb-better already.  [_Aside_.] Most\nextraordinary coincidence, Flamm: this is the same lady and gentleman we\ntravelled up to town with a kuk-kuk-couple of months ago; and you\nremarked upon our wonderful resemblance to each other.  Horrid bob-bob-\nbore, a fellow's being so like you; he can pip-pip-play all sorts of\ntricks upon you.  Just a chance he did not get me into a did-did-devil of\na scrape with Jemima.\n\n_Fl_. [_aside_].  Well, you can always pay him off in his own coin--that\nis, if you shave your head, and throw away your spectacles, and give up\nstammering.\n\n_Pl_. [_aside_].  But I can't--that's where he has the pup-pup-pull over\nme.  [_Aloud_.]  There now, one or two bib-bib-breaths, and we are all\nright.  Now, dud-dud-don't go off again; it can be all satisfactorily\nexplained.  [_Aside_.]  Hang me if I know how!\n\n_El_. [_opens her eyes while_ Plumper _is bending over her--screams_].\nOh, Adolphus!--[_shuts them again_]\n\n_Pl_.  There, there, my gug-gug-good lady, I'm not Adolphus; at least I\nam Adolphus, bub-bub-but not your Adolphus.  Here, Mr Gresham, if you're\nher Ad-dod-dod-dod-ol-phus, you'd better take her.\n\n_El_. [_opens her eyes, sees_ Adolphus _bending over her--screams_].  Oh,\nwhere am I?--[_shuts them again_.]\n\n_Pl_.  In the arms of your Adolphus.  We're bub-bub-both Adolphuses.  I\nsuppose, if you'll rouse yourself a little, you'll soon fif-fif-find out\nwhich is the right one.\n\n_Ad_.  Lady Elaine, pardon me, and I will explain all.  I am Adolphus\nGresham.  I came back from Naples a month ago, and have deceived you by\ndisguising myself as Dr Plumper.  I shall never forgive myself unless you\nforgive me.\n\n_El_.  Oh, this is too horrible!  [_Shrinks from him, and bursts into a\nviolent fit of weeping_.]\n\n_Pl_.  There, that's capital!  Nothing like a hearty fit of tears to kuk-\nkuk-comfort a woman when she finds herself in a mess.  Now Flamm, if you\ncall a kuk-kuk-cab, we'll put her in and send her home.\n\n[_Exit_ Flamm.\n\n_Ad_.  If you'll have the kindness, Dr Plumper, to give me your address,\nand allow me to call upon you to-morrow, I think I shall be able to give\nboth Mrs Plumper and yourself a complete explanation of what must appear\nmost extraordinary conduct on my part.\n\n_Re-enter_ Flamm.\n\n_Fl_.  The cab is ready.\n\n_Ad_.  Now, Lady Elaine, if you will allow Dr Plumper and myself to\nassist you, we will accompany you home.  [_Exeunt omnes_.\n\n\n\nSCENE VI.--Lady Gules's Boudoir.  Lord and Lady Gules--Adolphus.\n\n\n_Lord G_.  Ha, ha, ha!  Oh, wait a moment, my dear Gresham, or you'll\nkill me with laughing.  It's the best joke I ever heard in my life, and\nmost cleverly executed.  So you caught the Radical, Comtist, aesthetic\nlittle minx in her own trap.  Oh, excellent!  I can't say how thoroughly\nLady Gules and I congratulate you on the success of your ruse, and how\nhappy you have made us.  My lady there is too pleased with the probable\nresult to quarrel about the means.  But how you did take us all in!  I\ngive you my word I never suspected you for a moment.  Your stammer and\nwig were both admirable.  As for Elaine, she's torturing her brain with\nmetaphysical doubts as to the nature of love, and says she will never\nlove again.  She tells her mother that her Adolphus was an ideal\npersonage who has no longer existence, and that her love is buried with\nhim; but here she comes, so we will leave you to fight your own battle.\n\n[_Exeunt_ Lord _and_ Lady Gules.\n\n_Enter_ Elaine.\n\n_Ad_.  Dear Elaine.\n\n_El_.  Sir!\n\n_Ad_.  Nay, rather Adolphus than sir.\n\n_El_.  How can I say Adolphus? there is no Adolphus.\n\n_Ad_.  Indeed there is--[_producing wig and spectacles_]--pup-pup-pardon\nme while I put them on.  If it was only my wig and spectacles you cared\nabout, did-did-dearest, I will wear them and stammer through life fuf-fuf-\nfor your sake.\n\n_El_.  Oh, Mr Gresham, how can you be so heartless?  You know very well I\nloved you--at least I didn't love you,--I mean, I thought I loved\nAdolphus--at least I was sure of it at the time; but I'm sure I don't\nnow.  Oh, how cruel of you!\n\n_Ad_.  But if it was not my wig and spectacles and stammer for which you\nfelt a magnetic affinity, I want to know exactly what it was you did\nlove; because I am precisely the same human being without them as with\nthem.  What about me struck that mysterious chord of sympathy which\nvibrated in your affections when I was Plumper, which failed to strike it\nas Gresham?  Why should not our hearts still beat in sweet accord without\nmy wig?  Why should not \"this exquisite garment, which we have both\nworn--[_takes up the dress, which is lying on a chair in the corner_]--be\nthe symbol of that internal robe which costumes our united souls, woven\nfrom the texture of our affections,\" without my spectacles?\n\n_El_.  Mr Gresham, how dare you talk such nonsense?  The texture of our\naffections indeed! mine are dead--basely, foully murdered.  Oh, was ever\nwoman so cruelly humiliated?\n\n_Ad_.  Nay, Elaine, I merely wished to prove to you that your aversion\nfor me was entirely unfounded.  You have proved to me that your love for\nAdolphus, in the abstract, is as baseless and unsubstantial.  I am not\nsorry under the circumstances that it should have been murdered, for it\nwas a poor exotic.  Let us not attempt to analyse the mysterious nature\nof that passion which is too precious a plant to tear up by the roots in\norder to discover the origin of its existence, but learn rather from this\nlesson, so painful to us both, that there are more things in heaven and\nearth than are dreamt of even in the philosophy of Comte, the doctrines\nof the aesthete, or the politics of Mr Gladstone.  And now, Elaine,\nfarewell,--this time you need not fear my coming back from Naples.\n[_Moves towards the door and lingers_.]\n\n[Elaine _puts her face between her hands and sobs convulsively_.\n\n_Ad_.  Elaine, dear Elaine [_returns softly and takes her hand_], do you\nwish me to go?\n\n[Elaine _shakes her head_.\n\n_Ad_.  Do you wish me to stay?\n\n[Elaine _shakes her head_.\n\n_Ad_.  What do you wish me to do?  I must do either one or the other.\nShall I stay and go alternately, or shall we make a fresh start, without\nprejudice, as the lawyers say?\n\n_El_.  Oh, how heartlessly you talk!  What do I care what the lawyers\nsay?  Can't you see how miserable I am, and how hollow everything seems\nall at once?  I don't believe in any one, and I don't feel as if I knew\nanything, except that love is an inexplicable phenomenon of matter.  I\nshall become an agnostic.\n\n_Re-enter_ Lord _and_ Lady Gules.\n\n_Lord G_.  Well, have you two young people come to an understanding?  Take\nmy word for it, Elaine, an ounce of practice is worth a pound of theory\nin love-affairs, and be thankful if the man is willing to become your\nhusband, who has had sufficient common-sense to teach you the lesson.\nHolloa! whom have we here?\n\n_Enter_ Charles _with cards_.\n\n_Lord G_. [_reads_].  \"Dr and Mrs Plumper and Mr Flamm, to inquire for\nLady Elaine Bendore.\"  Oho! our friend Plumper seems to know the\ndifference between theory and practice at any rate, and is evidently\nanxious to extend the latter.  [_To_ Charles.]  Show them up.\n\n_Ad_.  I called upon the Plumpers this morning, and explained the whole\naffair to the entire satisfaction of the worthy couple.\n\n[Adolphus _and_ Lady Elaine _whisper apart_.\n\n_Lord G_.  I have to thank you, Dr Plumper, for the timely assistance you\nrendered my daughter--first, in nearly sending her into a fit, and then\nin bringing her out of it; and am glad of this opportunity of expressing\nmy sense of the obligation I am under to Mrs Plumper and Mr Flamm.\n\n_Dr P_.  Oh, don't mention it, my lord; I am sure I was only too gug-gug-\nglad to be of any assistance to Mr Gresham by being so like him as to\nfrighten the young lady into a fif-fif-fit.  And as for bringing her to--I\nalways take the sal-volatile in my pup-pup-pup-pocket on Mrs Plumper's\naccount.\n\n_Ad_.  And you'll accept me, Elaine, as your husband, even though I don't\nabandon my political aspirations, or introduce aesthetic principles into\n_Kindergartens_, or adopt the philosophy of Comte?\n\n_El_. [_giving him her hand_].  Oh, Adolphus, you have convinced me that\nthe loftiest of all aspirations, the purest of all principles, the\nsupremest of all philosophies, is--\n\n_Ad_.  A-dod-dod-dolphus!\n\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n{81}  Esoteric Buddhism.  By A. P. Sinnett, President of the Simla\nEclectic Theosophical Society.\n\nPRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.","title":"Fashionable Philosophy, and Other Sketches","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":29143}