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Gift of
Charles K. Needham
1923

"I WELL REMEMBER"
A SERIES
No. 1
lxx Bohemia Du Maurier

Illustrated. Demy 8vo, cloth, price 12s. each.
THE YEAR AFTER THE ARMADA,
AND OTHER HISTORICAL STUDIES.
By MARTIN A. S. HUME.
SECOND EDITION.
"Major Hume tells the story in full detail, and with great
spirit. . . . Full of interest. . . . Very interesting." — Times.
"The vivid and picturesque style of the writer imparts to
them all the flavour of romance." — Scotsman.
By the same Author. Uniform in style aud price.
THE COURTSHIPS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.
FOURTH EDITION.
"Without a perusal of Mr. Hume's most researchful and
interesting volume, no one, no student even of Froude, can
claim to have thoroughly grasped the character and aims of
our good Queen Bess." — Daily Chronicle.
"A fascinating picture." — Standard (leader).

LIFE IN THE TUILERIES UNDER THE SECOND
EMPIRE.
By ANNA L. BICKNELL (an Inmate of the Palace).
" A conscientious book, written in an agreeable style." —
Athenamm. "This extremely interesting book." — Scotsman.

London: T. FISHER uxwis.

"FOR EVER AND A DAY."

In Bohemia with
Du Maurier

By
Felix Moscheles

With 63 Original "Drawings

By
G. Du Maurier

Illustrating the ^Artist's Life
in the Fifties

London
T. FISHER UNWIN

November, 1896, First Edition, 1250 Copies
December, 1896, Second Edition, 1000 Copies
January, 1897, Third Edition, 1000 Copies

[All tights rcscivcd]

'fhe few introductory words to this volume were written,
and the last proofs posted, shortly before the fatal news
overtook me in lovely Venice. My world, resplendent
with sunshine, was suddenly lost in darkness. 'The
most lovable of men, whose presence alone sufficed to
make life worth living to all those near and dear to
him, was gone from amongst us. His hand was no
longer to hold those pens — the finely-pointed one that
drew, the freely-flowing one that wrote. His well-
earned rest was not to be enjoyed on earth.
Now that all is changed, the joyous note of these pages
jars upon me. How differently would I attune the story
of our student days, were I to write it to-day in loving
memory of my friend !
But as it stands, so it must go forth. The book,
cordially endorsed by him, is printed and all but issued ;
he would not let me recall it, I know. He himself, in
his kindly, simple way, had enjoyed my resuscitation
of our early recollections, and had here and there lent a
helpful hand even to the correcting of the proofs.
7

To write of him and of his qualities of heart and
mind as I would now venture to record them, I must
wait till the heavier clouds have cleared away and left
the picture, I would draw once more to stand out brightly
in the background of Time. FELIX MOSCHELES.
October, 1896.

PREFACE.
YOU'LL see that I've used up all your
Mesmerism and a trifle more in my
new book," said du Maurier to me, some time
before he published his " Trilby " ; and that
remark started us talking of the good old times
in Antwerp, and overhauling the numerous draw
ings and sketches in which he so vividly depicted
the incidents of our Bohemian days. It seemed
to me that some of those drawings should be
published, if only to show how my now so
popular friend commenced his artistic career.
In order that they should not go forth without
explanation, I wrote the following pages.
The Bohemia I have sought to coerce into
book shape, is not the wild country, peopled by
the delightfully unconventional savages, so often
described, but a little cultivated corner of the
land, as I found it in Antwerp, a mere back
ground to the incidents I had to relate. Such
9 b

Preface.
as it is, it may perhaps serve here and there to
point to the original soil from which were even
tually to spring some of the figures so familiar
to us to-day.
To me it was a source of enjoyment to evoke
these memories, and if I publish them, it is
because I strongly feel that pleasures shared
are pleasures doubled. Sociably inclined as I
always was, I am truly glad to have the oppor
tunity of giving a hearty welcome to those who
may care to join my friend and myself in our
ramblings and our "tumblings."

IO

CONTENTS.
PAGE
Part I. . .... 17
Part II. . . 69

1 1

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
" for ever and a day " . . Frontispiece
THE ATELIER GLEYRE . . . . . l8
MY BLOUSE . . . . . .20
(From an oil-sketch by Matthew Maris.)
PEGGY AND DU MAURIER AT THE RAILWAY STATION
IN MALINES . . . . 27
FROM DU MAURIER'S PAINTING . . 30
MOSCHELES ET MOI SI NOUS AVIONS ETE DU BEAU SEXE 32
SI NOUS AVIONS ETE BEAUX . . . 32
MOSCHELES ET MOI SI NOUS N' AVIONS PAS ETE ARTISTES 33
SI NOUS AVIONS ETE CHEVAUX . . -33
F. s'lL ETAIT CHEVAL . . . . -33
SI NOUS AVIONS ETE MILITAIRES . . -34
" CE SACRE VESICATOIRE " . . . -35
ISABEL DU MAURIER . . . . -35
MOSCHELES, OR MEPHISTOPHELES ? — WHICH . . 40
" INSPIRATION PAPILLOTIQUE " . . -42
DU MAURIER IMPROVISING . . . -43
!3

List of Illustrations.

HOW RAG TRIES TO DESILLUSIONER CARRY ON BOBTAIL,
AND BOBTAIL TRIES TO DITTO DITTO ON RAG
THE INGENIOUS USE WHICH RAG MAKES OF BOBTAIL'
PLIABLE HAT
" BESHREW THEE, NOBLE SIR RAGGE ! LET US TO THE
FAIR TOBACCONISTE "...
" SALUT A LA GENTE ET ACCORTE PUCELLE "
A MESMERIC SEANCE IN MRS. L.'S BACK PARLOUR
THE MIDNIGHT PRESENCE OF THE UNCANNY .
FELIX LOOKS VERY SEEDY AFTER HIS BIRTHDAY
" RACHEL" AND FRIENDS CELEBRATE BOBTAIL'S BIRTH
DAY. .....
RAG ....
BOBTAIL. .....
"WHAT THE DEUCE AM I TO DO WITH THIS CONFOUNDED
ROPE ? HANG MYSELF, I WONDER."
COFFEE AND BRASSIN IN BOBTAIL'S ROOMS
CLARA MOSCHELES ....
" HERR RAG SCHICKT ZU FRAULEIN MOSCHELES SEIN
EMPFEHLUNG UND IHREN BRUDER."
CHER LIX ....
"AN INDISCREET FELLOW LOOKING OVER MY  '
DU MAURIER AT WORK AGAIN .
" CLAUDIUS FELIX ET PUBLIUS BUSSO, CUM CENTURIONE
GUIDORUM, AUDIENTES IUVENES CONSERVATORIONl"
J4

44
46
49 So
57
6064
65
72 72
7680
§3 87
8889
90 91

List of Illustrations.

PAGE
DOUBLE-BEDDED ROOM IN BRUSSELS . . -93
THE HEIGHT OF ENJOYMENT . . . -95
YE CELEBRATED RAG TREATETH HIMSELF TO A PRIVATE
PERFORMANCE OF YE PADRE FURIOSO E FIGLIA
INFELICE . . . . . -97
AT THE HOFRATH'S DOOR . . . -99
" I SAY, GOVERNOR, MIND YOU DON'T GASH HIS THROAT
AS YOU DID THAT POOR OLD SPANIARD'S " . . IOO
MR KENNEDY, WHO IS QUITE BLIND, DISCREETLY IN
FORMS THE PROFESSOR THAT CAPTAIN MARIUS
BLUEBLAST " IS NA BUT A SINFU' BLACKGUARD" IOI
MEETING IN DUSSELDORF .... IO3
SCENE FROM MACPHERSON'S OSSIAN . . . I06
PORTRAIT OF PICCIOLA . . . . -US
"ON THEIR HONEYMOON" .... 116
Also Illustration on pages 37, 88, 98, 102, 108, 109, no,
112, 114, 119, 123, 135, 144, 145.

IS

I.
"TUMBLINGS"
WITH DU MAURIER AND FRIENDS.
I WELL remember" my first meeting with
du Maurier in the class-rooms of the famous
Antwerp Academy.
I was painting and blagueing, as one paints
and blagues in the storm and stress period of
one's artistic development.
It had been my good fortune to commence my
studies in Paris ; it was there, in the atelier
Gleyre, I had cultivated, I think I may say, very
successfully, the essentially French art of chaffing,
known by the name of "La blague parisienne," and
I now was able to give my less lively Flemish
friends and fellow-students the full benefit of my
experience. Many pleasant recollections bound
me to Paris ; so, when I heard one day that a
" Nouveau " had arrived, straight from my old
17 c

In Bohemia

atelier Gleyre, I was not a little impatient to
make his acquaintance.
The new-comer was du Maurier. I sought
him out, and, taking it for granted that he was
a Frenchman, I addressed him in French ; we
were soon engaged in lively conversation, asking

THE ATELIER GLEYRE.

and answering questions about the comrades in
Paris, and sorting the threads that associated us
both with the same place. " Did you know 'un
nomme Pointer ' ? " he asked, exquisitely Frenchy-
fying the name for my benefit. I mentally trans-
18

with du Maurier.
lated this into equally exquisite English, my!
version naturally being : "A man called Poynter."
Later on an American came up, with whom I
exchanged a few words in his and my native
tongue. " What the D. are you — English ? "
broke in du Maurier. " And what the D. are
you ? " I rejoined. I forget whether D. stood
for Dickens or for the other one ; probably it
was the latter. At any rate, whether more or
less emphatic in our utterances, we then and
there made friends on a sound international basis.
It seemed to me that at this our first meeting
du Maurier took me in at a glance — the eager,
hungry glance of the caricaturist. He seemed
struck with my appearance, as well he might be.
I wore a workman's blouse that had gradually
taken its colour from its surroundings. To
protect myself from the indiscretions of my
comrades I had painted various warnings on
my back, as, for instance, " Bill stickers beware,"
" It is forbidden to shoot rubbish here," and the
like. My very black hair, ever inclined to run
riot, was encircled by a craftily conceived band
of crochet-work, such as only a fond mother's
hand could devise, and I was doubtless colouring
some meerschaum of eccentric design. My
19

In Bohemia
fellow-student, the now famous Matthew Maris,
immortalised that blouse and that piece of

MY BLOUSE.
{From an oil-sketch by Matthew Maris.)
crochet-work in the admirable oil-sketch here
reproduced. 20

with du Maurier.
It has always been a source of legitimate pride
to me to think that I should have been the tool
selected by Providence to sharpen du Maurier's
pencil ; there must have been something in my
" Verfluchte Physiognomie," as a very handsome
young German, whom I used to chaff unmerci
fully, called it, to reveal to du Maurier hidden
possibilities and to awaken in him those dormant
capacities which had betrayed themselves in the
eager glance above named.
This was, I believe, in 1857 ; not feeling over
sure as regards that date, I refer to a bundle of
du Maurier's letters before me, but they offer me
no assistance ; there is but one dated, and that
one merely headed: " Dusseldorf, 19th Cent."
Well, in 1857, then, let us take it, the Antwerp
Academy was under the direction of De Keyser,
that most urbane of men and painters. Van
Lerius, well known to many American and
English lovers of art, her Majesty included, was
professor of the Painting Class, and amongst the
students there were many who rapidly made
themselves a name, as Tadema, M. Maris,
Neuhuys, Heyermans, and the armless artist,
whose foot-painted copies after the Masters at
the Antwerp Gallery are well known to every
21

In Bohemia
tourist. The teaching was of a sound, practical
nature, strongly imbued with the tendencies of
the colourist school. Antwerp ever sought to
uphold the traditions of a great Past ; in the
atelier Gleyre you might have studied form and
learnt to fill it with colour, but here you would be
taught to manipulate colour, and to limit it by
form. A peculiar kind of artistic kicks and cuffs
were administered to the student by Van Lerius
as he went his rounds. " That is a charming bit
of colour you have painted in that forehead," he
said to me on one occasion — " so delicate and
refined. Do it again," he added, as he took up
my palette knife and scraped off the "delicate
bit." " Ah, you see, savez vous, you can't do it
again ; you got it by fluke, some stray tints off
your palette, savez vous" and, taking the biggest
brush I had, he swept over that palette and
produced enough of the desired tints to have
covered a dozen foreheads.
The comrade without arms was a most as
siduous worker ; it was amusing to watch his
mittened feet step out of their shoes and at the
shortest notice proceed to do duty as hands ; his
nimble toes would screw and unscrew the tops of
the colour tubes or handle the brush as steadily

with du Maurier.
as the best and deftest of fingers could have
done. Very much unlike any of us, he was most
punctilious in the care he bestowed on his paint
box, as also on his personal appearance. Maris,
Neuhuys, Heyermans, and one or two others
equally gifted, but whose thread of life was
soon to be cut short, were painting splendid
studies, some of which I was fortunate enough
to rescue from destruction and have happily
preserved. Quite worthy to be placed next to these are
Van-der-something's studies. That (or something
like that) was the name of a wiry, active little
man who in those days painted in a garret ; there
everything was disarranged chaotically, mostly
on the floor, for there was no furniture that I can
recollect beyond a stool, an easel, and a fine old
looking-glass. He had a house, though, and a
wife, in marked contrast with his appearance and
the garret. The house was not badly appointed,
and she was lavishly endowed with an exuberance
of charms and graces characteristic of a Rubens
model. A fellow-student of mine was their lodger, a
handsome young German, brimful of talent, but
sadly deficient in health. He had always held
23

In Bohemia
most rigid principles on questions of morality,
but unfortunately they failed one day in their
application, owing to the less settled views enter
tained by Madame Van-der-something on such
subjects. She certainly gave him much affection
on the one hand, but on the other she so auda
ciously appropriated those of his goods and
chattels that could be turned into money, that the
police had to intervene, and she eventually found
herself before a judge and jury. There, how
ever, she managed so well to cast all responsi
bility on her husband, who, to this day, I believe
was quite innocent, that — " cherchez la femme " — •
she got off, and he was sentenced to a term of
imprisonment. Now if Van Ostade or Teniers had risen to
prosecute him for forging their signatures, and he
had been found guilty and condemned to severe
punishment, it would have served him right. He
was a perfect gem of a forger. He picked up a
stock of those dirty old pictures painted on worm-
eaten panels that used to abound in the sale
rooms of Antwerp. On these he would paint
what might be called replicas with variations,
cribbing left and right from old mildewed prints
that were scattered all about the floor. He would

with du Maurier.
scrape and scumble, brighten and deaden with
oils and varnishes ; he would dodge and manipu
late till his picture, after a given time spent in
a damp cellar, would emerge as a genuine old
master. I once asked a dealer whom I knew to
be a regular customer of his, at what price he
sold one of those productions. " I really can't
say," he answered ; " I only do wholesale busi
ness. I buy for exportation to England and
America." If any of my friends here or over
there possess some work of Van-der-something's,
I sincerely congratulate them, for the little man
was a genius in his way.
Of my friend the German I have only to say
that, poor fellow, he spent but a short life of
pleasure and of pain. What became of his Circe
I never sought to know. It was a clear case of
" Ne cherchez pas la femme ! "
The first friend I made on my arrival in
Antwerp was Jean Heyermans (detto il Pegghi),
and a very useful one he proved himself, for he
at once took me in hand, helped me to find home
and hearth, and generally gave me the correct
tip, so valuable to the stranger. He lost no time
in teaching me some of those full-flavoured
Flemish idioms which from the first enabled me
25 D

In Bohemia
to emphasise my meaning when I wished to
express it in unmistakable language.
He himself was a remarkable linguist, speaking
English, French, and German fluently, in addi
tion to his native language, Dutch ; so he soon
chummed with du Maurier and me in several
languages, and became one of our set. He was
always ready to follow us in our digressions from
the conventional course, and we felt that many of
our best international jokes would have been lost
had it not been for his comprehension and appre
ciation. His father, too, was a kind friend to us,
inviting us to his house to hear Music and talk
Art, to ply knives and forks, and to empty
glasses of various dimensions. That gentle
man's corpulence had reached a degree which
clearly showed that he must have "lost sight of
his knees " some years back, but he was none
the less strong and active. There were two
daughters, one pathetically blind, the other sym
pathetically musical.
How our friend came by the name of Peggy
none of us know, but he figures as such in many
of du Maurier's drawings.
" ^ Peggy." ne says» m a letter from Malines,
" doesn't come on Sunday, may the vengeance of
26

¦with du Maurier.
the gods overtake him ! Tell him so. I'll meet
him at the train." And then he sketches the
meeting and greeting of the two, and the railway
guard starting his train with the old-fashioned
horn-signal on the G.E.C. then in use.
My friend Jean soon started on his career as a
regular exhibitor in Belgium and Holland, besides
which he developed a remarkable taste and talent
for teaching.

PEGGY AND DU MAURIER AT THE RAILWAY STATION IN MALINES.
"What would you advise about Pen's studies?"
said Robert Browning one afternoon as we sat in
my little studio, talking about his son's talents
and prospects. (This was a few years after my
final return to England.) "Send him to Antwerp,"
I said, "to Heyermans; he is the best man I
know of to start him." 27

In Bohemia
Pen went, and soon made surprising progress,
painting a picture after little more than a twelve
month that at once found an eager purchaser.
The poet took great pride in his son's success,
and lost no opportunity of speaking in the most
grateful and appreciative terms of the teacher.
Millais and Tadema endorsed his praise, and
Heyermans' reputation was established. A few
years ago he migrated to London, where he con
tinues his work, pluckily upholding the traditions
of the Past, whilst readily encouraging the whole
some aspirations of a rising generation.
Another man destined to find a permanent
home in England was Alma Tadema. He was
not much in the Painting Class in my time, but
had previously been hard at work there. I
mostly saw him in the room adjoining it, and he
always seemed to me exclusively interested in the
study of costume and history. The incident that
led to his leaving the academy rather abruptly is
characteristic. An uncle of his having given him
a commission for a picture, Tadema applied to
de Keyser for authorisation to make the neces
sary break in his studies. The Director accorded
him three weeks, but, as Tadema put it when
lately recalling the circumstance, " I couldn't
28

with du Maitrier.
paint a picture in three weeks then, and I cannot
now." I little thought that from his studies of costume
and history, the comrade of my Antwerp days
would evolve a long and uninterrupted series of
masterpieces, resuscitating the Past and present
ing it with the erudition of the Student and the
genius of the Artist. Nor did anything fore
shadow that my genial Dutch friend, to whom
the English language was a dead letter, was
destined in a not too distant Future to become a
shining light of England's Royal Academy.
Du Maurier was soon installed in the Painting
Class, and made a vigorous start. Of the things
he painted, I particularly recollect a life-size,
three-quarter group of an old woman and a
boy — a pen-and-ink drawing of which is in my
father's album — that showed talent enough and
to spare, but his artistic aspirations were soon
to meet with a serious check. His eyesight
suddenly gave him trouble, and before long
put a stop to his studies at atelier or academy.
He was not to become a painter, as he had
fondly hoped, but as we now know, he was to
work out his destiny in another direction. With
the simplest of means he was to delineate
29

'Amu. -//rt^CSp

From du Maurier's painting.

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
character, and everyday drops of ink, when
filtered through his pen, were to emerge in
quaint or graceful shapes, wit, satire, and senti
ment taking their turns to prompt and guide that
pen. In those days we called all that caricaturing,
and caricature he certainly did ; mainly me and
himself. From the first he imagined he saw a
marked contrast between us. His nose was
supposed to be turned up, and mine down,
whereas really neither his nor mine much
deviated from the ordinary run of noses ; my
lower lip certainly does project, but his does not
particularly recede, and so on. But the imaginary
contrast inspired him in the earliest days of
our acquaintance, and started him on the war
path of pen-and-inking. He drew us in all
conceivable and in some inconceivable situations.
"Moscheles and I," he says on one page, "had
we not been artists, or had we been artistically
beautiful ; then again, if we were of the fair
sex, or soldiers, or, by way of showing our
versatility, if we were horses." In that page he
seems to have focussed the essence of our
characteristics, whilst appearing only to delineate
our human and equine possibilities. Poor F.,
3i

In Bohemia
one of our German friends, fares badly, a
donkey's head portraying him "s'il etait cheval."

MOSCHELES ET MOI SI NOUS AVIONS ETE DU BEAU SEXE.

-.-<&»

m

SI NOUS AVIONS ETE BEAUX.

In consequence of the growing trouble with
his eyes, du Maurier left Antwerp for Malines,
32

with du Maurier.

to place himself under the care of an eminent
oculist who resided within easy reach of that

¦ • MOSCHELES ET MOI SI NOUS N'AVIONS PAS ETE ARTISTES.

SI NOUS AVIONS ETE CHEVAUX.

F. S IL ETAIT CHEVAL.

city. That blessed blister — "ce sacre" vdsicatoire,"
as he calls it, is one of the doctor's remedies.
33 E

In Bohemia
The sketch shows how it is being applied by a
devoted Sister of Mercy.
In those days railway travelling was not as
rapid as it is now, but one could get from

<0Q

SI NOUS AVIONS ETE MILITAIRES.

Antwerp to Malines in about an hour, a circum
stance which I frequently turned to account.
Du Maurier's mother had come to live with him,
his sister joining them for a short time, and the
home in quiet old Malines soon became a sort
34

with du Maurier.

of haven of rest. I spent many a happy day
and night there, on which occasions I am bound
to say that the piano, requisitioned by me for

" CE SACRE VESICATOIRE."
some special purposes of
musical caricature, detracted
somewhat from the restful-
ness of the haven. How
ever that may have been,
such intrusion was never
resented; my Swedish prima
donna, or my qualifications
as a basso profondo, or a brass-bandsman, were
always treated with the greatest indulgence by
the ladies, and my high soprano flourished and
35

ISABEL DU MAURIER.

In Bohemia
positively reached unknown altitudes under the
beneficent sunshine of their applause. (For
all that I never attempted Chopin's " Im
promptu.") Then du Maurier would sing the French
"romance" or the English song, or he would
"dire la chansonnette," and what with his
sympathetic tenor and his intuitive knowledge
of music, he seemed to be able to express more
than many who had had the advantage of a
musical training. A few old letters of his remind
me that we were audacious enough to write
verses and music, he doing the former, I the
latter. " Here's something I particularly want you to
do," he writes. "Take strong coffee, inspire
yourself, think of your ' Ideal,' and compose
some very pretty music to the enclosed words,
with which Rag's ideal flame has inspired Rag
— surtout, let it be as good as possible, with
accompaniment a Vavenant. An alteration in
the music of each stanza would render the
gradation of energy expressed in the words,
' Je compte sur toi.' " (How du Maurier
came by the name of "Rag" I must tell
later on.) 36

with du Maurier.
Then follow the words : —
Chanson.
D'apres un barde Britannique.1
Les sources vont a la riviere
Et la riviere a 1'ocean ;
Les monts embrassent la lumiere,
Le vent du ciel se mele au vent ;
Contre le not, le flot se presse ;
Rien ne vit seul — tout semble, ici,
Se fondre en la commune ivresse. . . .
Et pourquoi pas nous deux aussi ?
Vois le soleil etreint la terre,
Qui rougit d'aise a son coucher —
La lune etreint les Hots, qu'eclaire
Son rayon doux comme un baiser ;
Les moindres fleurs ont des tendresses
Pour leurs pareilles d'ici-bas
Que valent toutes ces caresses
Si tu ne me caresses pas ? 2
Two slight sketches of " L'auteur de profil "
and " Le compositeur de face " head the page.

&

Soon afterwards he sends me another poetical
effusion and writes :
" Dear Bobtail, — I send you the Serenade
1 See Shelley's " Love's Philosophy."
2 Pour bien apprecier la valeur artistique de cette
romance, il faut I'entendre chanter par Rag en tenant
les yeux fixes sur le profil de Bobtail.
37

In Bohemia
composed ' tant bien que mal ' last night, not
'entre la poire et le fromage,' but between the
tea and the pears. I am afraid you will not find
it as dramatic as you wished ; but I don't feel it
otherwise, and as Mahomet can't write words to
the mountain's music, the mountain must try and
adapt its music to the verses of Mahomet.
" Serenade apres la sieste.
" Berthe aux grands yeux d'azur, ouvre done ta paupiere,
Chasse les reves d'or de ton leger sommeil —
Ils sont la, nos amis ; cede a notre priere
Le trone prepare n'attend que ton reveil ;
Le soleil a cesse de regner sur la terre,
Viens regner sur la fete et sois notre soleil.
Reponds a nos accords par tes accents plus doux
Au jardin des amours, viens 6 viens avec nous.
Au jardin des amours ta place est reservee,
Parmi des feux de joie et des lilas en fleurs.
Viens reveiller en nous de nouvelles ardeurs —
Descends avec la nuit, ainsi que la rosee — ¦
Tant que l'astre d'argent sourit a la vallee,
Toi, bel astre d'amour, viens sourire a nos cceurs !
Reponds a nos accords par tes accents plus doux,
Au jardin des amours, Berthe, viens avec nous.
Viens avec ta couronne, et viens avec ta lyre,
Tes chants pour nos amis, tes doux regards pour moi !
Deja j'entends les jeux de la foule en emoi
Sur des gazons fleuris . . . oh le joyeux delire !
Si tu ne descends pas, helas ! on pourra dire :
38

with du Maurier.
' Berthe aux grands yeux d'azur, on a chante sans toi ! '
Reponds a nos accords par tes accents plus doux,
Berthe aux grands yeux d'azur, viens 6 viens avec nous !
"You see I have indulged in poetic license;
for instance, the first tenor says he hears the
folks doing the light fantastic toe. One might
suppose they danced in sabots — mere poetic
license, and besides, a first tenor ought to have
very good ears. ... So now, my lad, inspire
yourself." What the result of his appeal to my inspira
tion may have been, I do not remember, but I
find this is what he writes on the subject —
" Carissimo, — In vain have I taxed Rag's inven
tive powers to alter the last stanza ; we must e'en
stick to 'Ce baiser-la.' The lines I have underlined
mean that I don't quite approve the part of the
music that comes just there, as in the musical
phrase you have set to it I fancy there is a want
of tenderness. All the rest is stunning; the
more I hums it the more I likes it, but I can't
exactly come your accompaniment."
No wonder, for my accompaniments were
usually rather indefinite quantities, subject to
39

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
the mood of the moment. " Moscheles or
Mephistopheles, which ? " he asks, as he depicts
me at the piano, perhaps evolving some such
accompaniment from the depths of "untrained
inner consciousness." " Eureka" he might have

put under that other sketch, where his own hands
have at last found some long-sought harmony or
chord on the piano. Another drawing there is
of a somewhat later period which he calls " In
spiration papillotique." Again I am at the piano,
40

" INSPIRATION PAPILLOTIQUE.

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
my eyes raised to the "She" in papillottes, who
floats as a vision in the clouds, issuing from my
ever-puffing cigar, whilst at my feet is stretched
the meditative form of my friend, and under
them is crushed some work of our immortal
colleague Beethoven.

DU MAURIER IMPROVISING.

And who was "She" thus to inspire us ? On the
supposition that most people are, like myself,
interested in the " Shes " that can inspire, I may
permit myself to say something about the attrac
tive young lady who was able to' lead us by easy
stages from the vague "inspiration papillotique "
43

In Bohemia
to an admiration which might be said to culmi
nate in flirtation. I don't remember either of us
ever trying to cut the other out, as the accom
panying sketch seems to imply, where " Rag and

HOW RAG TRIES TO DESILLUSIONER CARRY ON BOBTAIL, AND BOBTAIL
TRIES TO DITTO DITTO ON RAG.
Bobtail fight a duel for Carry, using their noses
as double-barrelled pistols. Shows the way in
which Rag tries to ddsillusioner Carry on Bobtail,
and in which Bobtail tries to ditto ditto on Rag.
44

with du Maurier.
Carry being on this side of the rivals is not
represented." The truth of the matter is that we shared
fraternally in the enjoyment of her good graces,
he having the pull of me the greater part of the
week, and only suspending operations in my
favour when I came to Malines on a Saturday to
Monday visit. These occasions were productive
of a great number of drawings and sketches,
illustrating our little adventures, and all plainly
showing that the incidents recorded occurred to
us at that pleasant time of life, when bright
illusions and buoyant spirits lead the way, and
when sorrow itself has more of the rose colour
than many a rose of a later day.
Malines was, and perhaps is still, a dull,
deserted city, at best up to the date of last
century, beating the record for dry-as-dustiness
and growing dear little blades of grass between
its cobble stones. It boasts of a great many
churches and of a very great many more priests.
(Vide: The ingenious use which Rag makes of
Bobtail's pliable hat.) In addition to these at
tractions, there was, however, a factor of para
mount interest to us. Then and there, just as
now and elsewhere, there were pretty girls about,
45

In Bohemia

and I need not say that, as both of us were
studying art and devoting our best energies to
the cult of the beautiful, we considered it our
duty to take special notice of these pretty girls
wherever we came across them. It is probably
the conscientious performance of his duty in that
direction which enabled du Maurier to evolve

THE INGENIOUS USE WHICH RAG MAKES OF BOBTAIL S PLIABLE HAT.
those ever-attractive and sympathetic types of
female beauty we are all so familiar with. Nor
would it have been becoming in me, who had
everything to learn, to lag behind, or to show
less ardour in the pursuit of my studies.
Thus, whilst du Maurier's facile pen was
throwing off black and white sketches of Miss
46

with du Maurier.
Carry, it was reserved for me to paint her por
trait in oils. Her real name was Octavie, not
Carry ; that appellation we had most unceremo
niously and unpoetically derived from "Cigar."
All else about her we invested, if not with cere
mony with a full amount of poetry. And cer
tainly there was a subtle quality in Carry, well
worthy of appreciation, a faculty of charming and
being charmed, of giving and taking, of free
and easiness, coupled with ladylike reserve. She
seemed to be born with the intuitive knowledge
that there was only one life worth living, that of
the Bohemian, and to be at the same time well
protected by a pretty reluctance to admit as much.
In fact, to give a correct idea of her I need but
say her soul was steeped in the very essence of
Trilbyism. Having got to Carry's soul, it may
not be inappropriate to say something also about
her looks ; but to describe good looks is, as we
all know, deliberately to court failure ; far better
request every man to conjure up his own type of
beauty and he will be sure to be interested in the
picture he evolves. That man will be nearest
the truth whose young lady has a rich crop of
brown curly hair, very blue inquisitive eyes, and a
figure of peculiar elasticity. +7

In Bohemia
Octavie L., dite Carry, was the daughter of
an organist who had held a good position at one
of the principal churches of Malines. When he
died he left but a small inheritance to his widow ;
with what she could realise, she purchased the
goodwill of a small tobacconist's store and set up
in business. Neither the mother nor the daughter
had much previous knowledge of the concern they
had started, and they were consequently not very
discriminating in the selection of their brands ;
but what was lacking in connoisseurship was fully
made up for by Mrs. L.'s obliging manners and
by Octavie's blue eyes. These had been steadily
gaining in expression since she first opened them
about seventeen years back. Customers soon
came in, and for a time the little business was as
flourishing as anything could well be in Malines.
The average citizen of so ecclesiastically con
servative, and hereditarily stationary a city could
hardly be expected to encourage a new venture
of the kind. Still, even tfaig there were some
young men about town, a sort of "jeunesse dore,"
not of 18-carat gold perhaps, but a "jeunesse"
quite equal to the pleasant task of buzzing around
the fair tobacconist. Mrs. L. did her share of
chaperoning ; du Maurier and I supplied the rest,
48

with du Maurier.
and watched over her with chivalrous, if not quite
disinterested devotion. We differed in every
respect from the type of the young man of the
period above mentioned ; so naturally we were
bright stars in Carry's firmament ; she looked
upon us as superior beings, and, granting her
points of comparison, not without cause ; du
Maurier could draw and I could paint ; he could

C0^

Al#^5n

% [II II up

-*>

7*
" BESHREW THEE, NOBLE SIR RAGGE ! LET US TO THE FAIR
TOBACCONISTE ! '

sing and I could mesmerise, and couldn't we just
both talk beautifully! We neither of us en
courage hero-worship now, but then we were
"bons princes," and graciously accepted Carry's
homage as due to our superior merits.
There are two drawings illustrative of that
chivalrous devotion of ours. We are galloping
along on our noble steeds, richly attired, as true
49 G

In Bohemia
knights and good should be when they go to pay
homage to beauty.
" Beshrew thee, noble Sir Ragge ! let us to
the fair tobacconiste ! "

"SALUT A LA GENTE ET ACCORTE PUCELLE ! "
" Aye ! Gentle Sir Bobtaile ! By my halidome,
she's passing fair."
The second drawing shows our " Salut a la
Gente et accorte pucelle ! " and the winning smile
with which Carry would receive us.
50

with du Maurier.
Mesmerism, or, as the fashion of to-day calls
it, Hypnotism, formed so frequent a topic of
conversation and speculation between du Maurier
and myself, that it takes a very prominent place
in my recollections.
In Paris I had had opportunities of attending
some most interesting stances, in consequence of
which I soon proceeded to investigate the mes
meric phenomena on my own account. Now I
have not touched the fluid for some thirty years ;
I swore off because it was taking too much out of
me ; but I look back with pleasure on my earlier
experiments, successes I may say, for I was for
tunate enough to come across several exceptional
subjects. Du Maurier was particularly interested
in one of these, Virginie Marsaudon, and had a
way of putting puzzling questions concerning her
faculties and my mesmeric influence. Virginie was
a "femme de menage" of the true Parisian type, a
devoted elderly creature, a sort of cross between
a charwoman and a housekeeper. I was not yet
eighteen when I first went to Paris, to study
under my cousin, the eminent painter, Henri
Lehmann. At his studio I found Virginie in
stalled as the presiding genius of the establish
ment, using in turn broom or tub, needle, grill or
5i

In Bohemia
frying-pan as the occasion might require ; the
wide range of her powers I further extended by
making a truly remarkable mesmeric subject of
her. My debut in Paris was that of the some
what bewildered foreigner, speaking but very
indifferent French, and she had from the first
done what she could to make me feel at home in
the strange city, treating me with truly motherly
care and devotion. How completely she took
possession of me, is shown by a passage in
a letter she wrote when I was ill in Leipsic,
where I had gone on a visit to my parents. After
expressing her anxiety and her regret at not being
there to nurse me, she emphatically says : — " Je
rends Madame, votre mere, responsable de votre
santd " (I make Madame, your mother, respon
sible for your health). It needed but little to
lead her on from a state of docile and genial
dependence to one of unconscious mesmeric sub
jection, and so, a few passes shaping her course,
I willed her across the boundary line that sepa
rates us from the unknown, a line which, thanks
to science, is daily being extended. Madame
veuve Marsaudon was herself an incorrigible dis
believer in the phenomena of mesmerism, but as
a subject her faculties were such as to surprise
and convert many a scoffer. 52

with du Maurier.
At the seances, to which I invited my friends
and a few scientific outsiders, I always courted
the fullest investigation, taking it as the first
duty of the mesmerist to show cause why he
should not be put down as a charlatan. So
we had tests and counter-tests, evidence and
counter-evidence ; there were doctors to feel
the pulse and to scrutinise the rigidity of the
muscles, experts to propound scientific ifs and
buts, and wiseacres generally to put spokes in
the wheel of progress, as is their playful way,
wherever they find that wheel in motion. It
was doubly satisfactory, then, that the good
faith of subject and mesmerist could be con
clusively proved.
One of these seances led to a rather amusing
incident. One night I was awakened from first
slumbers by a sharp ring at my bell, and when,
after some parleying, I opened the door, I found
myself confronted by two individuals. One I
recognised as an " inquirer " who had been
brought to my rooms some time, previously ; the
other was a lad I had not seen before. The
inquirer, I ascertained, having carefully watched
my modus operandi on the occasion of his visit,
had next tried experiments of his own. In this
53

In Bohemia
instance he had succeeded in mesmerising a lad,
but had found it impossible to recall him to his
normal condition. So, securing him by a leather
strap fastened round his waist, he led him through
the streets of Paris to my rooms. There we
both tried our powers upon him, the result
being very unsatisfactory. The youth, feeling
himself freed from one operator and not sub
jected by the other, refused allegiance to either,
and, being of a pugnacious temperament, he
squared up and commenced striking out at both
of us. It was not without considerable difficulty
that I re-mesmerised him completely, and then,
having previously prepared his mind to account
naturally for his presence in my rooms, I
succeeded in awakening him, and all ended
happily. The inquirer was duly grateful, the
youth went home strapless and none the worse
for the adventure, and I proceeded to do some
very sound sleeping on my own account.
I would say more of my stances and all the
recollections they evoke, were I not impatient to
get back to du Maurier and to Malines. Once
on the experiences of those days, I have much
to relate — pros and cons, if you please, for that
subtle magnetic fluid, which, without physical
54

with du Maurier.
contact, one human being can transmit to another,
is a ticklish one to handle. I cannot pack
my pen, though, and take train of thought to
the Belgian city without mentioning my friend
Allonge, the well-known French artist, then a
fellow-student of mine at the Ecole des Beaux
Arts. A chance contact of our knees as we sat
closely packed with some sixty other students
put me on the track of a new subject, perhaps
the most interesting one it was ever my good
fortune to come across. But of him another
time. Using the privilege of a mesmerist, I elect
to will the reader — that is, if natural slumber
has not ere this put him beyond my control —
across the frontier, into the back parlour of
Mrs. L.'s tobacco store. There I am operating
on a boy — such a stupid little Flemish boy that
no amount of fluid could ever make him clever.
How I came to treat him to passes I don't
remember ; probably I used him as an object-
lesson to amuse Carry. All I recollect is that
I gave him a key to hold, and made him believe
that it was red-hot and burnt his fingers, or that
it was a piece of pudding to be eaten presently,
thereby making him howl and grin alternately.
55

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
In the middle of our seance Carry is called
away by a customer, one of the swells of Malines
much addicted to a poetical expression of his
admiration for the fair sex in general and for
Carry in particular. Greatly to our edification,
she was pleased to improve the occasion by
leading him on, within our hearing, to make
what is commonly called a fool of himself.
The pleasant incident is recorded in the accom
panying sketch.
But mesmerism meant more than incidental
amusement or even scientific experiment to us
in those Antwerp and Malines days. When
one stands on the threshold of a world of
mysteries one cannot but long to bridge over
the chasm that separates one from the gods,
the fairies, or the fiends. To be sure, we
should have been glad if we could have got
" light, more light " thrown on our steps, but,
failing that, we tried to find our way as best
we could in the mist. We loved that never-
attainable Will-o'-the-Wisp, "Truth," for its own
dear Bohemian sake ; so, guided by Fancy and
Fantasy, we made frequent inroads into the
boundless land where unknown forces pick up
our poor dear little conception of the Impos-
56

A MESMERIC SEANCE IN MRS. L.'s BACK PARLOUR.

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
sible, and use it as the starting-point of never-
to-be-exhausted possibilities.
Such a land was particularly well suited to
the state of our outward-bound minds and our
excelsior appetites. It was on one or the other
of these excursions, I feel confident, that du
Maurier was inoculated with the germs that
were eventually to develop into Trilbyism and
Svengalism. No wonder, then, if in more than
one of his letters and sketches the future de
lineator of those characters embodies bold dreams
and fancies, or if on one occasion he depicts
himself, with fixed gaze and hair erect, sitting
bolt upright on my hospitable sofa, thrilled
and overawed by the midnight presence of
the uncanny, which I had evoked for his
benefit. "Yes, governor, it's all very well to ask a
nervous fellow to Antwerp and amuse him and
make him ever so jolly and comfortable  But
why, when the bleak November wind sobs against
the lattice and disturbs the dead ashes in the
grate, when everything is damned queer and
dark, and that sort of thing, you know — why
should you make nervous fellows' flesh creep by
talk about mesmerism, and dead fellows coming
59

In Bohemia
to see live fellows before dying, and the Lord
knows what else ? Why, Gad ! it's horrid ! "
My rooms in Antwerp were the scene of many
a festive gathering. We always spoke of them
in the plural ; it sounded better, but in reality

THE MIDNIGHT PRESENCE OF THE UNCANNY.
there was only one room with two small alcoves.
Studies and sketches covered the walls or littered
the floor, and the genial figure of a skeleton, in
very perfect condition, stood in the corner by the
piano. At first it came with a view to instructing
60

with du Maurier.
me in the Science of Anatomy, but soon, putting
aside any didactic pretensions, my bony professor
became quite a companion and friend ; it was
thus natural that on those occasions when guests
had been convened to my rooms, he would take
a leading part, generally appearing gracefully
draped and appropriately illuminated, and thus
forming a fitting background to the gay pro
ceedings of the evening. We had music, recita
tion, and acting, mostly of an improvised, home
made character. The sounds thereof were not
confined, however, to the narrow limits of home,
but spread far beyond it, a fact which the neigh
bours, I am sure, would have been at any time
ready most emphatically to attest.
In justice to myself I may say that I was
primarily answerable for the magnitude of the
sound waves, but I am bound to add that my
example was followed and even improved upon
by the more lung-gifted of my companions.
Amongst the milder forms of entertainment was
my impersonation of Rachel. That grand actress
I had often seen in Paris, and had, more than
once, shivered in my shoes as she annihilated
the Tyrant, pouring forth the vials of her wrath
and indignation in the classical language of
61

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
Racine and Corneille. With those accents still
ringing in my ears I came to Antwerp, and there,
when surrounded by sympathetic friends, the
spirit would sometimes move me, and I would
feel — excuse the conceit of youth — as if I too
could have been a great female Tragedian,
had Fate not otherwise disposed of me. In
such moments I would seize the blade of
the paper-knife, and use the blood of the beet
root, drape myself in the classical folds of the
bed-sheet, and go for the Tyrant, hissing fearful
hexameters of scorn and vituperation into his
ears, and usually winding up with a pose so
magnificently triumphant that it would bring
down any house which was not of the most solid
construction. Another time the cushion yonder would be my
child — the orthodox long-lost one — " It is ! — It
is not ! — It is ! — Let me clasp it to my other
cushion!" "Toi mon fils cheri. Ange de mon
enfer, douleur de mes loisirs ! "
The celebration of one of my birthdays was an
event rescued from oblivion by du Maurier's
pencil. He illustrates our lively doings on that
day and my appearance the next morning.
" Felix's mamma," he says, had worked a very
62

FELIX LOOKS VERY SEEDY AFTER HIS BIRTHDAY.

.- _¦ — .. . - <2:
"RACHEL" AND FRIENDS CELEBRATE BOBTAIL'S BIRTHDAY.

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
pretty cap for Felix, and Felix had it on the
morning after his birthday, and Felix found that
though the cap was very pretty, it made him
look very seedy."
In the other drawing he gives striking likenesses
of the friends assembled to celebrate the festive
occasion. They had come together in the
evening, much in the same spirit that had led
them under my windows in the morning, with
a brass band and an enormous bouquet of
cabbages, carrots, and cauliflowers. There, on
the left, is Van Lerius with his hands in his
pockets, next to him du Maurier ; then Heyer
mans, Bource, and all the other chums, and,
though last not least, the proud bearer of the
steaming punch-bowl. What a set of jolly good
fellows ! It is quite a pleasure to pore over the
sketch and contemplate du Maurier's phiz, ex
pressing his unbounded capacity of enjoyment.
I can see him taking points that fell flat with
the other fellows. Quite a pleasure, too, to
think of Huysmans' big nose and Van Lerius'
bald head, of the tall and the short, of spindle
shanks and chubby face.
Where are they all now ? Some thirty-five
years have elapsed, and the whirligig of time has
67

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
been revolving with unfailing regularity, dropping
us here and there, as caprice dictated, some to
stand, some to fall. What has become of the
threads of friendship, picked up at the studio or
the cafe\ perhaps whilst puzzling over the chess
board, or when harmonising in four-part song ?
Golden threads ; some destined to be spun out
and to become solidly intertwined ; others to be
hopelessly entangled or cruelly snapped asunder
by the inexorable Fates. Where shall I find
them now, those friends and boon companions of
my Bohemian days ? Here, there, and every
where — perhaps nowhere ! Some I see trotting
briskly along the high road of life, others
dragging wearily through its tangled bypaths.
Yet again others resting under a big, cold stone
that bears an inscription and a couple of dates,
fixed just above their heads.

68

II.

I WELL remember a certain "barriere that
protected the level crossing just outside the
Malines Station. It was but an ordinary piece
of hinged timber, but we, that is, du Maurier and
I, can never forget it ; for, as we stood by its
side we vowed that come what might, we would
never travel along that line and past the old
gate without recalling that summer evening and
re-thinking the thoughts of our early days.
It was also there, one evening, that we
adopted our never-to-be-forgotten aliases — Rag
and Bobtail. We had chanced upon a chum of
ours named Sprenk lounging across that old
barriere, and some fortuitous circumstance
having revealed the fact that his initials were
T. A. G., we forthwith dubbed him Tag. Out of
that very naturally grew the further development :
Rag, Tag, and Bobtail. 69

In Bohemia
T. A. G. was an Englishman, strong and
hearty and considerably taller than either of us.
That alone would have sufficed to secure him
the friendship of du Maurier, who ever wor
shipped at the shrine of physical greatness. He
loved to look up to the man of six-foot-some
thing, or to sit in the shadow of the woman of
commanding presence, his appreciation of size
culminating in the love of " Chang," that dog of
dogs, whom we have all learnt to admire, as we
followed his career through the volumes of the
immortal Weekly, presided over by Toby and
his master.
I somehow associate Tag with whisky and
water ; not that he took it much or often, but he
gave one the impression that whatever others
might do when amongst the benighted foreigner,
he, for one, would not let a good old English
custom drop into disuse. Looking at Tag one
intuitively felt that his father before him had
taken his moderate glass of W. and W., and
that, if he married and had sons, they would do
likewise. I do not think that he was particularly
fond of art or artists, unless inasmuch as they
were brother Bohemians. He was engaged, or,
at least, he was generally just about to be
70

with du Maurier.
engaged, in some business, and whilst waiting
for the opportune moment to commence opera
tions, he would settle down to an expectant
present. The golden opportunity he was looking
for was plainly visible on his horizon, but it had
a way of remaining stationary, and as it was con
trary to Tag's nature to move unless under great
pressure, the two never met.
In the meanwhile Tag was one of our trio of
chums ; he was a good deal with us when we
were out and about, bent on storming the world,
or climbing Parnassus ; we did the climbing, he
the looking on, the parts thus being distributed
to our mutual satisfaction. He was always
pleasantly acquiescent, and had the rare gift of
making himself useless agreeably ; a common
bond of interest we had in the Colorado claro
and oscuro, whether the fair or dark, applied to
the friendly weed or the still more friendly fair
sex. He describes himself pretty correctly in a letter
he wrote to us from Paris, when he says : —
" Since my arrival here my notes of what I
have to do represent what I have not done, and
if it be true that the infernal regions are paved
7i

In Bohemia
with good intentions, I shall be received on my
arrival by a deputation of souls to thank me for
my contribution to the pavement."

There are sketches' in which Tag's eloquence
, i \ I I

in—'

r (»'

C^f

is confined to one exclamation, " Matilda! " But
whether that name was coupled with present
felicity or future hopes I do not recollect. But
du Maurier's lines describe him and our chumship

with du Maurier.
much better than any words of mine could do.
He says : — "To Bobtail.
Oh, fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint
All lazy beggars like me  "
" In the sunshine of April, the April of life,
You and I and our Tag make three ;
And few will deny that for such close chums
A queer set of fellows are we.
For I walk slowly, and you walk fast,
And Tag lies down (not to fall) ;
You think of the Present, / think of the Past,
And Tag thinks of nothing at all.
Yet who shall be lucky, and who shall be rich ?
Whether both, neither, one, or all three ;
Is a mystery which, Dame Fortune, the witch,
Tells neither Tag, Bobtail, or me ! (Rag)."
The portraits of Rag and Bobtail head the page.
A space was left for Tag's, but never filled.
Apropos of plans and prospects on Tag's
distant horizon, I find a passage in one of his
letters, dated November, 1857, which is well
worth recording. I quote it to give myself and
my fellow Europeans an opportunity of rejoicing
73 K

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
that Tag's scheme belonged to those that were
not to be realised. It runs thus : —
"As du Maurier's eye, though better, will, most
probably, not allow him to resume his profession
as a painter, we have determined to try our
fortune together in Australia, and mean to start
from here early in February. He hopes to
obtain employment by drawing sketches, carica
tures, &c, for the Melbourne Punch, and other
illustrated papers. You know how eminently
suited he is for that kind of work, and we hear
that an artist of talent of that description is much
wanted out there, and would be sure to do
exceedingly well. I, of course, do not intend
to start in that line, but hope to be able to
support myself for the first few years, after
which I shall establish myself in business on
my own account, and I trust, with luck, I may
return home in the course of from ten to fifteen
years, if not with immense riches, at all events
with enough to enable me to pass the remainder
of my ' old age ' in peace and comfort."
Did Tag ever go, I wonder ? Did he come
back, and has he perhaps been enjoying his " old
74

1*6- ».

' WHAT THE DEUCE AM I TOiDO WITH
THIS CONFOUNDED ROPE ? HANG
MYSELF, I WONDER."

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
age " somewhere over here for the last thirty
years ? — I wish you would say what has become
of you, my dear Tag. I'm sure we should be
chums again, if you're anything like the dear
old stick-in-the-mud of former days ! Don't you
recollect that sketch of Rag's ? I had nearly
forgotten to mention it, the one with the three
ropes of life. I am climbing ahead with fiendish
energy. Rag follows, steadily ascending, weighted
as he is with a treasure, a box marked " Mrs.
Rag, with care," and your noble form is squatting
on the floor, a glass of the best blend at your
feet, and a cigar you are enjoying from which
rises the legend that makes you say, " What the
deuce am I to do with this confounded rope ?
Hang myself, I wonder ? " Nonsense, to be
sure ; but do come and tell me what you have
done with the rope, or say where I can find you
still squatting.
That music of a certain spontaneous kind, the
music within us which we were ever longing to
bring to the surface, was a bond of union between
du Maurier and myself, I have already mentioned ;
but that bond was to be greatly strengthened by
the music that great musicians on more than one
occasion lavished on us. First came Louis
77

In Bohemia with dn Maurier.
Brassin, the pianist. He had studied under
Moscheles at the Conservatorio of Leipsic, the
city of Bach and Mendelssohn fame ; and there,
from the days of his boyhood, he had belonged
to the little circle of intimates who frequently
gathered around the master at his house.
When, a few years later, he came to Belgium
on a concert tour, he and I found no difficulty
in taking up the old friendship contracted in my
father's house, just where we had left it. The
boy had become the man, the student had
developed into the artist and thorough musician.
He was the boonest of boon companions, and his
jokes were so broad that they often reminded one,
in their crudeness and their rudeness, of certain
passages in Mozart's early letters. To say that he
spoke French with a German accent a la Sven-
gali would be putting it very mildly ; Teutonic
gutturals would most unceremoniously invade
the sister language ; d's and t's, b's and p's would
ever change places, as they are made to do in
some parts of the Fatherland. With all that, he
rejoiced in a delightful fluency of speech, con
veying quaint and original thought. There was
something decidedly interesting about Brassin's
looks, but his figure gave one the impression of
78

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
having been very carelessly put together ; when
he walked his head went back on his shoulders,
and his hat went back on his head ; his long
arms dangled, pendulum-like, by his sides, while
his lanky legs, dragging along anyhow, were
ever lagging behind one another. But when he
opened the piano and put hands and feet to keys
and pedal, he was not the same individual. He
would turn on nerve and muscle-power, and
would hurl avalanches of music and torrents of
notes at his audience till he, in his turn, was
overwhelmed with thunders of applause. And
those were the days, we must remember, when
but few men could play at a greater rate than
twenty to twenty-five miles an hour ; when grand
pianos were not yet ironclad and armour-plated,
or had learnt proudly to display the maker's
name on their broadside when they went forth
to do battle on the concert field.
Brassin used to draw inane caricatures of him
self, which he would present to us with a
triumphant laugh of immoderate calibre. I have
preserved some of these, but decidedly prefer
du Maurier's rendering of our common friend.
In the accompanying drawing he shows him at
the piano, entertaining us on " A rainy day."
81 L

In Bohemia
"Ah! Felix, amico mio," he says, "may thy
room be always as jolly, thy coffee be ever so
sweet, as on that happy morning ! May Brassin's
fingers be ever as brilliant and inspired ! May
Tag be ever as lazy, and with equal satisfaction
to himself, and may I never be blinder ! Amen."
That sketch admirably pourtrays the lankiness
and flabbiness of Brassin's figure, contrasting as
it did with the strength of the wrist and the grip
of the fingers. He was certainly a fine subject
for du Maurier, whom I always looked upon as
a sort of vivisector of music and musicians, of
their methods and their moods. A brilliant career
awaited Louis Brassin, but it was to be suddenly
and unexpectedly cut off. He died some ten
years ago at the age of forty-four.
In 1858 my father came on a visit to Antwerp
with my mother and my youngest sister, Clara.
Wherever my father took up his abode, even
temporarily, a grand piano would in the natural
course of events gravitate towards him, and a
select circle of art lovers would soon be grouped
around it. Amongst the friends in the Antwerp
circle were — Van Lerius, Tadema, Baron Leys,
Heyermans, and Bource. My sister at that
time was a bright and happy creature, not long
82

with du Maurier
out of her teens, full of hopes — alas ! never to be
realised, and of talents never to be matured.
The large dark eyes — they seemed the gift of he

^f^%

CLARA MOSCHELES.

godmother, the famous Malibran — reflected the
artist's soul, and a grand soprano voice spoke its
powerful language. Du Maurier and she were
83

In Bohemia
soon on a brother and sisterly footing, and they
ever remained so.
Of the pleasant evenings we of the circle spent
together I recall one in particular. My sister had
been singing one song after another ; my father
was engaged in an animated conversation with
Stefani, the pianist, on the relative merits of
Mendelssohn and Schumann. Du Maurier and I
had been sitting at the farther end of the room,
talking of his eyes. At that time one doctor
held out hopes ; another, a great authority, had
considered it his painful duty not to conceal the
truth from his patient, and had, with much unction
and the necessary complement of professional
phraseology, prepared him for the worst. The
sight of one eye had gone, that of the other
would follow. Those were anxious days, both
for him and for his friends ; but, whatever he
felt, he could talk about his trouble with perfect
equanimity, and I often wondered how quietly he
took it, and how cheerfully he would tell me that
he was " fearfully depressed." That evening I
had been putting the chances of a speedy re
covery before him, and making predictions based,
I am bound to admit, on nothing more sub
stantial than my ardent hopes. But du Maurier
84

with du Maurier.
was too much of a philosopher to be satisfied
with such encouragement as I could give, and
said : "No, I had better face the enemy and be
prepared for the worst. If it comes, you see, my
dear fellow, there is Nature's law of compen
sation, and I firmly believe that one cannot lose
one faculty without being compensated by some
great gain elsewhere. I suppose one gets to see
more inside as things grow darker outside. If
one can't paint, one must do something else —
write perhaps ; that is, as long as one can, and
then, if the steam accumulates, and one wants a
safety valve to let it off, dictate." Happily, to
this day he writes, and need not have recourse to
dictation. When we joined our friends we found Van
Lerius and Heyermans had been pressed into the
service, and were making sketches for my
sister's album. Du Maurier took up a pencil,
and, with a few characteristic touches, drew that
sister's eyes. " Quand je les vois," he wrote
underneath, "j'oublie les miens. (Reflexion
d'un futur aveugle.) When I see them I
forget my own. (Reflections of a man going
blind.)" Soon the main business of the evening was
85

In Bohemia
resumed. Was it Beethoven's sonata for piano
and violin, or a mighty improvisation on classical
themes that came first ? I do not recollect ; but
I remember that du Maurier's rendering of
Balfe's " When other lips and other hearts,"
with my scratch accompaniment, was warmly
greeted by all lips and hearts present.
When these pleasant evenings had come to an
end, the friendly intercourse was not allowed to
drop, and so a number of sketches by her new
friends found their way into Miss Clara's album.
In the following winter, when I left on a short
visit to Leipsic, he sent her a few lines through
me. I quote from his letter because the wording
is peculiar, and illustrates his capacity for express
ing himself in a language that he had to evolve
from his inner consciousness : —
" Herr Rag schickt zu Fraulein Moscheles
sein empfehlung und ihren bruder ; es wird
hoflicht gebeten das sie wird die sach reciprokiren,
und in ftinftzen dagen ihr empfehlung und seinen
freund zuruck schicken."
For the benefit of those whose inner conscious
ness is not in touch with the above, I give the
English version : —
" Mr. Rag sends his greeting and her brother
86

with du Maurier.
to Miss Moscheles, and kindly requests her to
reciprocate the proceeding in a fortnight by re
turning her greeting and his friend."

J^OfeJ'

HERR RAG SCHICKT ZU FRAULEIN MOSCHELES SEIN EMPFEHLUNG
UND IHREN BRUDER."

When I think how easily and spontaneously
such sketches dropped from his pen, I am
reminded of a passage in one of Mendelssohn's
letters to my mother ; he sends her the Mailied
and says : " This morning a song came to me.
I really must write it down for you." So, too,
from the first the pen-and-ink compositions came
to du Maurier. His talent manifested itself not
only in a desire to illustrate this or that incident
or adventure, but also in his inexhaustible capacity
87

In Bohemia

for making something out of nothing, and as the
nothing was never lacking, he might well say :
" Dear Bobtail, I will never write
without sending my compliments
to thine album." His rendering
of "Cher Lix," for instance,
takes the shape of a graceful
monogram, or diplogram, or whatever I ought to
call a combination of our two profiles and my
name.

He starts a short missive with a sketch of
himself seated in his trunk, pipe in mouth, and

with du Maurier.
says : " Dear Bobtail, I write to you out of
sheer idleness, so as to have an excuse not to
pack up for the next half-hour." Or he draws
himself looking over my shoulder whilst I am

AN INDISCREET FELLOW LOOKING OVER MY-

writing to my sister and puts the supposed
context of my letter : —
" Bobtail writes (in German of course) :
" I won't write any more, for there's an in
discreet fellow looking over my  "
89 M

In Bohemia
"Rag. It's not true, I swear. (For Miss
Clara.)" Another time he wants me to send him some
brushes and various other painting materials he

DU MAURIER AT WORK AGAIN.

enumerates : " Oh, and a little thing like this for
oil to do the thing cheesy." He depicts himself
quite elated ; his eyes seemed so much better
that •he had once more resumed work in the
90

with du Maurier.
studio of his friend Goyers. " Gruss from
maternal and self," he ends; "ganz hertzlich ;
come soon, or write soon, or do something soon,
hang it. — Thy Rag, jusqu' a la mort."
Monsieur Staps, Sous-Chef of the " Guides,
the best military band in Brussels, was a friend of

" CLAUDIUS FELIX ET PUBLIUS BUSSO, CUM CENTURIONE GUIDORUM,
AUDIENTES JUVENES CONSERVATORIONI."

ours. He had invited us to one of the famous
Concerts du Conservatoire, a treat in anticipation
of which du Maurier at once takes to the pen,
and shows us in classical garments and dignified
attitudes listening to the "young men of the
Conservatorio." " Sketch represents," he says,
9i

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
" Claudius Felix et Publius Busso, cum centurione
Guidorum, audientes juvenes Conservatorioni,
a.d. CCLVIII." The "Busso" derived from his
full name — George Louis Palmella Busson du
Maurier. In striking contrast with the last drawing is
the next. Here we are decidedly anything
but conventional in our attire, as he depicts
us in " Double-bedded room, Brussels. Time
n a.m. (train starts 11.20). Bobtail's face
being rather smutty, he washes it, and Rag's
boots being rather tight, he puts them on at
leisure, during which process he has time to
smoke three pipes. Bobtail. Bub-bub-bub-
bub . . . whew . . . pouf! . . . Rag. How
many ? "
A favourite theme of his was his supposed
inability to shine on occasions when I had intro
duced him to friends of mine, and was particu
larly anxious to show him off to advantage, and
then, again, the unrelenting fate that would
swiftly overtake him if he ventured to put him
self forward. I need not say that the inability
and the discomfiture existed only in his imagina
tion, for in all circles he was ever appreciated
and admired. But he would have it other-
92

A-^- s/2*~/e&^ JtLrB-i~.

rd$S&cL<l£, ^4«- jU<^y le-^fc^- ^*^^~, <j£e. -tts&*^ ^
£hO /?**J £tt£- '/*oUf 4aJtz^£f^/^-/*~^-^£zzrs^
Q-fhfL»oJn~

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
wise, and pourtrays us side by side with the
legend —

" The height of enjoyment.
Rag thinking of his eyes, in a pair of tight boots, with
Bobtail whispering : ' Say something clever, you stupid
muff ! '"

Another drawing shows what happened when
for once in a way he presumed to accept the
homages of the fair. 95

In Bohemia
"One fine morninge, earlie, at ye Cafd de la
Plage, Blankenberghe, ye celebrated Rag, deem
ing himself alone, treateth himself to a private
performance of ye Padre furioso e figlia infelice,
in imitatione of his illustrious friende, Felix Bob-
tailo. Presentlie a voice exclaimeth behind him,
' Monsieur, permettez moi de vous feliciter,' and
a ladie politelie maketh him complimente on his
talente. Rag replieth that she must not be sur
prised thereat, as hys life has been spent among
ye great musicians, and that therefore he can
scarcelie helpe being a consummate musician
himselfe. Shortly after as he lighteth hys cigarre
at ye barre, he enquireth bumptiously, ' Who
might that good ladie be ? ' ' She is the prima-
donna ofthe Munich Opera, Monsieur.' Where
upon ye soul of ye humiliated Rag sinketh into
hys bootes, and he retireth for ever under a
perpetual extinguisher.
"Ye hero of ye above unfortunate adventure
presenteth hys compliments to Miss Clara
Moscheles, and beggeth she will deigne to
accepte ye sketche in acknowledgment of ye
last box of ' acidulated lemon-flavoured droppes '
entrusted to her brother's care (need he remark
that they have not yet reached their destination).
95

tvith du Maurier.
" Miss Clara is invited to observe how cun-
ninglie ye profile of Rag is made to imitate that
of her talented brother."
Du Maurier's stay in Blankenberghe was but
short. He soon went to Diisseldorf to put him-

YE CELEBRATED RAG TREATETH HIMSELF TO A PRIVATE PERFORMANCE
OF YE PADRE FURIOSO E FIGLIA INFELICE.
self under the treatment of a famous oculist,
Hofrath de Leeuwe, who resided not far from
there at Grafrath. He wrote, in high spirits :
" Spent yesterday in Grafrath ; jolly place, lots
of beauties, plenty of singing and sketching and
that sort of thing, you know. Long walks in
97 n

In Bohemia
beautiful valleys, most delightful. The fact is,
I'm so beastly merry since I've been here that
I don't think I'm quite sane, and altogether only
want your periodical visits and permission to
have my fling on Saturday nights to be in
heaven. Doctor says he'll do me good ; have
to go to Grafrath once a week. Ca me bote
joliment. Good-bye, my old. Thine ever

He had met some old acquaintances and frater
nised with some English and American artists,
had got into the swim of Grafrath society, such
as it was, and was soon placed on a pedestal,
whilst sundry beauties sat at his feet and, to the
best of my belief, sighed. "They all want me
to make etchings of the little can-cans and lick-
spittlings going on here. Splendid study ; shall
98

with du Maurier.
think about it. Carry novel, of course, adjourned
sine die ; haven't got time just now — you know
what a fellow I am. Just got her letter ; very
naive and amusing — but don't tell her so, or else
she will pose for that and spoil it. Here is a

AT THE HOFRATH S DOOR

" SHE. REALLY I DON T SEE THE SLIGHTEST MOTE IN YOUR EYES.
" HE. NO, BUT I CAN SEE THE BEAMS IN YOURS."
little drawing for you. Do all honour to it, since
it has met with a little ovation here."
He calls it "a new adaptation from the New
Testament." He and a charming "she" sit
waiting their turn at the Hofrath's door. He is

In Bohemia

looking into her eyes and she into his. " Really
I don't see the slightest mote in your eyes," says
she. " No, but I can see the beams in yours,"
he replies. r

o.

" I SAY, GOVERNOR, MIND YOU DON'T GASH HIS THROAT AS YOU DID
THAT POOR OLD SPANIARD'S ! "
Did du Maurier ever attempt to shave any
body, I wonder ? According to one of the
sketches he sent me from Diisseldorf he did,
and was so engaged on a blind man Kennedy,
ioo

with du Maurier.
when a Captain Marius comes on the scene and
says, in discreet whisper and with much con
cern, " I say, governor, mind you don't gash his
throat as you did that poor old Spaniard's ! (Out
loud) How d'ye do, Kennedy?"
The same Mr. Kennedy figures once more,

MR. KENNEDY, WHO IS QUITE BLIND, DISCREETLY INFORMS THE PRO
FESSOR THAT CAPTAIN MARIUS BLUEBLAST " IS NA BUT A SINFU'
BLACKGUARD."
when, unaware of the presence of the captain,
he discreetly informs the professor that Captain
Marius Blueblast " is na' but a sinfu' blackguard."
A portrait he drew of the doctor was a great
success. " I have done the old cock's portrait
IOI

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
stunningly," he says; "nine crosses ofthe Legion
of Honour, &c. Not a sou into my pocket ; all
for poor-box. Fancy a fellow like me making
presents to the poor-box (vide sketch) ! But as

the portrait will be very much spilt about
(rdpandu), I may fish a stray order or two. I
have followed your advice for a whole week
and done a magnificent Framboisy. Shall not
attempt to go on until you are here to give me
another stirring-up. Am going to Antwerp next
week (always am). Shall you be moving too ?
Journey together — great fun. Take care of my

102

T

\

L--~i'

MEETING IN DUSSELDORF.
WE SAT INTO THE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING, TALKING OF THE PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE.

Scene from Macpherson's Ossian : —

" Dark was the sun ! Heavy the clouds on the cliffs of Oithona —
when the fair-headed son of the Maunalva crossed his claymore with
the stern dark-browed Bobthailva and swore friendship on the names
of Carry and Damask."

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
purse and passport, and see my trunks are
locked." I was moving, and as du Maurier kept on
being about to go to Antwerp, I went to pay him
a flying visit at Diisseldorf on my way to Paris.
We sat into the small hours of the morning (as
he depicts us), talking of the past, present, and
future, a long-necked Rhine-wine bottle and two
green glasses beside us, our hopes and aspirations
rising with the cloud that curled from my ever-
glowing cigar. We talked till his fertile imagina
tion took us across the sea, and " Ragmar of the
Maurialva and Bobthailva, the son of Moscheles,
swore eternal amity on their native heath."
Damask was another beauty whom we appre
ciated, perhaps all the more because we knew she
was dying of consumption.
In Paris I was probably absorbed in some
work I had in hand and must have neglected du
Maurier, for he writes urging me to answer by
return of post and give an account of myself. He
had been visited, he says, by an alarming night
mare, which he forthwith sketches for my benefit.
Carry, the Circe, had captured the lion. The
noble beast — that was me — had succumbed to the
107

In Bohemia

^

wiles of the enchantress, and sub
mitted tamely to being combed
and brushed and to having his
claws clipped by her hand. Like
/^O^ftXN' birds of a feather, so do lions of
^ a name, flock together. And so
1 another noble beast — that was he
I — is seen approaching, presumably
! to claim his share of the combing
and clipping and of whatever other favours may
be forthcoming.
Another time when, I suppose, I was again
letting him wait for an answer, he writes from
Diisseldorf : " Dear Bobtail, — Est-ce que tu
te donnes le genre de m'oublier par hazard ? I
108

with du Maurier.

have been expecting
a letter from you
every day, running
thus : ' Dear Rag,
— Come to Paris
immediately, to illus
trate thirty-six peri
odical papers which
I have got for you.
In haste, Bobtail.'
My old pal, Tom

Armstrong, is here, working
hard ; eyes the same as ever.
Write soon and tell all about
that portrait. Diisseldorf
rencontre was jolly." The
letter is headed by
a drawing repre
senting me soar
ing heavenwards,
whilst he, chained
to the spot, is philo
sophically consult
ing the cards on his
prospects of release. 109

In Bohemia

Then comes a postscript: "Going in for this
sort of thing."

" Will you come old fellow and be

I suppose I answered saying that I only put
off writing till I had mustered the full complement
of periodicals. If I was in a prophetic mood I
may have added that it was all right, and that
very shortly thirty-six editors would be clamour
ing for his work, and perhaps thirty-six States
hallooing for him to come over immediately.

with du Maurier.
Hoping to be punch'd at an early date, I probably
remained his, &c., &c.
The early date came, for, before his final return
to England, we met once more in Antwerp and
Malines. And that takes me back to Carry.
She was changed to her advantage, so, at least,
the world of Malines thought. We were not
quite so sure that the change would prove
altogether to her advantage. She had been quite
pretty enough before, and we thought she could
well have done without developing further
physical attractions. She had always known how
to use her eyes, not unfrequently shedding their
beneficent light on two persons at the same time,
and we considered that that number should not
be exceeded. But now their activity seemed
daily increasing, and it was not without concern
that we noticed in her a certain restlessness and
a growing tendency to discuss with the serpent
questions relating to the acquisition of prohibited
apples. After a while, and perhaps in conse
quence of the good advice we gave her, she
sobered down and surprised us by her docility ;
but at best her moods were 'uncertain and she
puzzled us much.
" Now, Bobtail," said Rag, as we walked along
in

In Bohemia
the sober old streets of Malines, discussing the
state of Carry's mind and heart. (He has

omitted the streets, but has put us into our very
best mediaeval suit.) " Now, Bobtail, what do

112

with du Maurier.
you think ? Is she in love ? And if so, with
whom ? "
" She may be, or she may be not," said Bobtail,
with oracular discretion; "but, if she is, it can
only be with one of us. She would not waste
her sentiment on a native whilst we were within
reach." " But which of us is it ? " asked Rag, somewhat
alarmed. ' I know not ; but I hope neither," answered
the oracle thus appealed to ; " but the state of her
mind, I believe, is this : If she were to marry
you, she would fall in love with me ; and if she
were to marry me, she would fall in love with
you." This dictum must have impressed du Maurier,
for it started him on a series of drawings, with
accompanying text in illustration of it. There
were to be two volumes. The first, in which I
figure as the husband, was rapidly produced ; the
second, in which he was to be the husband, never
saw the light of day. It was shelved sine die, a
proceeding I always thought particularly unfair,
as he never gave me a chance of being loved. I
am compensated, however, by the possession of
the first volume of the " Noces de Picciola," or
113 p

In Bohemia
" Cari-catures," as they are called. On the title-
page Bobtail is made to say : —

«&\

r^D

<nfi

<r\

" If Carry were to many one of us,
I'd give thee any odds she would be safe,
O Rag, to love the other  "
(Shakespere. " Two Swells of Antwerp.")
" Varium et mutabile semper femina," he adds,
and his story illustrates the truth of the poet's
words. His points will be so much better under
stood later on, when some of the problems con
nected with our matrimonial laws have been
solved, that it would be a pity to publish them
prematurely. Suffice it to show how Felix and
Georges produced the portrait of Picciola.
" Felix put all his talent and Georges all his good
will into it, for, once completed, Picciola was to
select a husband from the two suitors. After
much cogitation she decides for Felix, whilst
offering her friendship to Georges, who seems
114

with du Maurier.
but moderately satisfied with this arrangement ;
and then, when husband and wife leave for distant
countries, Georges, who cannot bear the thought
of being parted from his dear Picciola, enters the
service of the young couple and accompanies them

PORTRAIT OF PICCIOLA.

on their honeymoon." This mythical journey
gives the author opportunities for the subtle
psychological, analysis of a young lady's heart,
strongly inclined to revolt against some of the con
ventions laid down by Society for its regulation.
"5

In Bohemia
We had fondly hoped we might escort and
protect her on the thorny path of life, as perti
nently shown in the drawing,1 where we are all
three going along, our arms and hands fraternally

"ON THEIR HONEYMOON.'

intertwined and linked together in perfect sym
metry, as if therewith to tie the knot of friendship
and make it fast for ever and a day.
But it was not to be. A big wave intervened to

See Frontispiece. 116

with du Maurier.
separate us, and swept away all traces of the road
before us. Poor Carry! Yes, she had a story.
Sad. Bright. Then sad again. First she gave
to Amor what was Amor's, and then to Hymen
what was Hymen's. She tasted of the apple her
friend the serpent had told her so much about.
Then — " la femme a une chute est rare comme
le Niagara" — and there are more apples than one
in the Garden of Eden — she tried another; such
a bad one unfortunately. It was a wonder it
didn't poison her, body and soul, but it didn't.
There was a moment when the Angel with the
flaming sword threatened to cast her adrift, and
it would have fared badly with her had not a
helping hand come to save her. But sound as
she was at the core, and true, she rallied and
rose again to new life and unhoped-for happiness.
It was a young doctor who came to the rescue ;
a mere boy he seemed to look at ; but a man he
was in deed and word. He worked hard and
walked fast ; he defied convention and challenged
fate. With a stout heart he laboured to raise
Carry to the level of his affections, and with a
strong hand he tightened his hold upon her.
He loved her passionately, devotedly, and she,
clinging to him as to the instrument of her
117

In Bohemia
salvation, gradually regained her better self, and,
slowly but surely, learnt to find in her own heart
the greatest of treasures that woman can bestow
upon man. But he was a Southerner of the
French meridional type, excitable and impulsive,
and, so, alas ! he was jealous of Carry's northern
friends and snapped the thread asunder that
bound her to them. We only knew, and that we
learnt in a roundabout way, that she was the
happiest little wife in Paris. Once, and only
once, she wrote to us, to tell us how complete was
her happiness. A crowning glory had come ; a
little glory to nurse and fondle, to cry over —
tears of joy; to smile to — the prettiest, foolishest
of mother's smiles ; to pray for and to worship
from the bottom of her little blossoming soul. It
was not till three years later that I was in Paris
and succeeded in picking up the thread of Carry's
story. Hale and hearty, overflowing with health
and happiness, the young doctor had gone to his
work at the hospital. He came home blood-
poisoned, to die in his wife's arms. It was a
case .of self-sacrifice in the cause of science, of
heroic devotion to a fellow-creature. And the
young widow was left alone again, with none to
weep over (tears of anguish this time) but the
118

with du Maurier.

little glory, who, poor thing, could only wonder,
but not soothe. What can have become of
Carry once more cast adrift in Paris to fight the
battle of life in this hard ever love-making world ?
We never knew.
Back to England. The time had come when —
'' Who was to be lucky and who to be rich,
Who'd get to the top of the tree ;
Was a mystery which
Dame Fortune, the witch,
Was to tell du Maurier and me."
What with the boxing-
gloves and one thing and
another, he had been "get
ting English again by
degrees." In a drawing
he shows us how he is
going through the process
arm-in-arm with his old
friend, Tom Armstrong,
now the Art- Director of
that very English insti
tution, the South Ken
sington Museum. Armstrong
Lamont, the man who to this day bears such
a striking resemblance to our friend the Laird,
119

and T. R.

In Bohemia
had presented du Maurier with a complete edition
of Edgar Allan Poe's works. His appreciation
of that author is expressed in a letter which he
addressed to Armstrong, and it needs not much
reading between the lines to gather what was
the literary diet best suited to his taste. It is
amusing, too, to notice the little shadows cast
here and there by coming events.
(Billy Barlow was, I really don't know why, for
the time being, synonymous with George du
Maurier.) " Gulielmus Barlow, Thomasino Armstrong,
Whom we hope is ' gaillardement ' getting along
And salubrious, ave ! You'll wonder, I ween,
At Barlow's turning topsy-tur — poet I mean.
I take odds you'll exclaim, 'twixt a grunt and a stare,
' Gottferdummi ' the beggar's gone mad, I declare,
And his wits must have followed his ' peeper ' — not so ;
He will give you the wherefore, will William Barlow —
Viz : he's so seedy and blue, he's so deucedly triste,
He's so d  d out of sorts, he's so d  d out of tune,
That for mere consolation he cannot resist
The temptation of holding with Tommy commune.
Then that he should be bothered alone, isn't fair,
So he'll just bother you a bit, pour se distraire,
This will partly account for the milk — then the fact is
That some heavy swell says that it's deuced good practice,
And then it's a natural consequence, too,
Of the classical culture he's just been put through.
120

with du Maurier.
I'll explain : T'other day the maternal did say,
' You are sadly deficient in reading, Bill ; nay
Do not wrinkle your forehead and turn up your nose
(That elegant feature of William Barlow's !)
You've read Thackeray, Dickens, I know ; but it's fit
You should study the classical authors a bit.
Heaven knows when your sight will be valid again,
You may throw down the pencil and take up the pen,
And you cannot have too many strings to your bow.'
— ' A-a-amen ! ' says young William to Mrs. Barlow.
So we're treated (our feelings we needn't define)
To a beastly slow book called the ' Fall and Decline '
By a fellow called Gibbon, be d  d to him ; then
Comes the 'Esprit des lois et des mceurs,' from the pen
Of a chap hight Voltaire — un pedant — qui je crois
Ne se fichait pas mal et des mceurs et des lois.
After which just to vary the pleasures, Rousseau
By Emile — no : Emile by Rousseau f Gad ! I know
That which ever it be it's infernally slow,
And I'm glad Billy's neither Emile nor Rousseau —
Such my fate is to listen to, longing to slope —
Then come horrid long epics of Dryden and Pope,
Which I mentally swear a big oath I'll confine
To the tombs of the Capulets, every line — <
Not but what the old beggars may do in their way,
Gad ! Uncommonly fine soporifics are they ;
But they seem after Tennyson, Shelley, and Poe
Just a trifle too Rosy for Billy Barlow —
Oh, dear Raggedy, oh !
Ulalume and ^Enone for William Barlow.
Erst, they're short. Then they breathe in their mystical tone
An essence, a spirit, a draught which alone
Can content Billy's lust, for the weird and unknown
121 Q

In Bohemia
(Billy's out of his depth) they've an undefined sense
Of the infinite 'mersed in their sorrow intense
(Billy's sinking ! A rope ! Some one quick ! Damn it !
hence
That mystical feeling so sweetly profound
Which weaves round the senses a spell (Billy's drowned)
(Here run for the drags of the Royal Humane !)
A mystical feeling, half rapture, half pain,
Such as moves in sweet melodies, such as entrances
In Chopin's ' Etudes,' and in Schubert's ' Romances.'
Ah ! Chopin's ' Impromptu' ! Schubert's 'Serenade' !
Have you ever heard these pretty decently played ?
If you haven't, old fellow, I'll merely observe
That a treat most delicious you have in reserve.
Lord ! How Billy's soul grazes in diggins of clover,
While Stefani rapidly fingers them over,
Feelingly, fervidly fingers them over.
Illusion that enervates ! Feverish dream
Of excitement magnetic, inspired, supreme,
Or despairing dejection, alternate, extreme !
Gad ! These opium-benumbing performances seem,
In their sad wild unresting irregular flow
Just expressly concocted for William Barlow.
Oh ! dear Raggedy, oh !
Why, they ravish the heart, sir, of Billy Barlow."
Du Maurier's stay on the Continent had come
to a close some time before mine, and to that
circumstance I owe several letters in which he
speaks of his first experiences in London. He
revelled in the metamorphosis he was going

with du Maurier.
through, and illustrated the past and the present
for my better comprehension. There on one side
of the Channel he shows the dejected old lion of
Malines gnawing his tobaccoless clay pipe, and
then on the other the noble beast stalking along

jauntily with tail erect and havannah alight. He
wrote in high spirits : —
" Dear Bobtail, — I need not tell you how
very jolly it was to get your letter and to hear
good news of you. My reason for not writing
was that I intended to make my position before
giving of my news to anybody. I was just funky
and blue about it at first, but fortunately I was
twigged almost immediately, and, barring my
blessed idleness, am getting on splendaciously
just now. Lots of my things have been out.
I'm going in for becoming a swell.
" How strange to think of such a change. I'm
123

In Bohemia
leading the merriest of lives, and only hope it will
last. Living with Henley, No. 85, Newman
Street ; very jolly and comfortable. Chumming
with all the old Paris fellows again, all of them
going ahead. There's Whistler is already one
of the great celebrities here — Poynter getting on.
This is a very jolly little village, and I wish you
were over here. They do make such a fuss with
an agreeable fellow like you or me, for instance.
But I suppose Paris is just as jolly in its way.
My ideas of Paris are all Boheme, quartier latin,
&c, et si c'etait a recommencer, ma foi je crois
que je dirais 'zut.' This is a hurried and absurd
letter to write to an old pal like you, but I hardly
ever have time for a line — out late every night
and make use of what little daylight there is in
Newman Street to draw. ' S'il faisait au moins
clair de Lune pendant le jour dans ce sacrd pays '
I daresay I shall treat myself to a trip over to
Paris as soon as the weather is jollier. I intend
to go abroad this summer to do some etchings 'qui
seront aux pommes.' Is there any chance what
ever of your coming over here before ? You
mustn't form your opinion of my performances
by what you may happen to see, as half of what I
do is spoiled by bad engraving (that's why I intend
124

with du Maurier.
to etch), and what I have done, bar one or two
things, are merely little chic sketches for money.
I have many plans ; among others I intend to
bring out a series in Punch, with which I shall
take peculiar care — something quite original. I
think you would precious soon get more portraits
than you could paint here, but if you are getting
on so well in Paris, of course it would be madness
to leave. But I do not like the idea of your not
being one of us — such a band of brothers full of
jolly faults that dovetail beautifully. It was quite
a freak of mine coming over here ; I did it against
everybody's advice — came over with a ten-pound
note and made the rest. ' Your friend Bobtail
seems to be the only man who had no doubt of
your talent,' writes my mother. ' Enfin c'est
prouve que je suis au moins bon a quelque chose.'
Do you go much into the world ? I go knocking
about as happily as possible, singing and smoking
cigars everywhere. Jimmy Whistler and I go
' tumbling ' together, as Thackeray says. Would
you were here to tumble with us ! Enfin, mon
bon, ecris moi vite."
When at last I too returned to London I was
privileged to take my humble share in the
" tumbling," as also in the steady process that
125

In Bohemia.
was gradually to wean us from Bohemia. We
tumbled pretty regularly into the Pamphilon, a
restaurant within a stone's throw of Oxford
Circus, of the familiar type that exhibits outside
its door a bill of fare with prices appended, to be
studied by those who count their shillings and
pence as we did. We had got beyond the days
when no wines are sour and when tough meat
passes muster, if there is only plenty of it ; we
wanted a sound dinner, and we got it at the
Pamphilon ; to wind up we adjourned to the
coffee-room and talked and read and smoked.
Stacey Marks, Poynter, Jimmy Whistler, and
Charles Keene were among the crew, and others
not so well known to fame. Pleasant hours those
and gemiithliche, as the Germans say ; how diffe
rent the after-dinner clay pipe or cheap weed of
those times to the post-prandial havannah we
now complacently whiff at our friend's Maecenas'
hospitable table ! Yes, things have changed, my
dear Rag, since the day we were paying our bill,
and you addressed the waiter with superb affa
bility : " Here, Charles, is a penny for you. I
know it isn't much, but I can't afford more."
It is hard to fancy anything less like Bohemia
than Regent Street, but a little incident that
126

with du Maurier.
occurred as I walked down that busy thorough
fare one afternoon recalls the best traditions of
the land in which practical jokes abound. I was
going along without any definite aim, killing time
and gathering wool, flaneing, in fact ; perhaps
there was a touch of the foreigner about me, for
I had only lately returned from abroad; anyway I
suddenly found myself singled out as a fit subject
to be victimised. I felt a hand stealthily sliding
into my pocket ; on the spur of the moment I
grasped that hand in as much of an iron grip as
I could muster. Then — I hardly know why — I
waited quite a number of seconds before I turned
round. When I did, it was du Maurier's face that
I beheld, blanched with terror. Those seconds
had been ages to him. Good heavens ! had he
made a mistake ? Was it not Bobtail's but
another man's hand that was clutching his wrist ?
Thank Heaven, it was Bobtail's !
There never was an occasion, before or after,
I feel absolutely sure, when du Maurier was more
truly glad to see me. H is colour rapidly returned,
and he swore that of all the bonnes blagues this
was the best ; but for all that, one thing is certain
— he has never since attempted to pick pockets
in Regent Street. 127

In Bohemia
A delightful compromise between Bohemia
and the land where well-regulated Society rules
supreme, was the ground on which stood Moray
Lodge, the residence of Arthur Lewis, the head
of the well-known firm of Lewis and Allenby.
We have read of him before : —
" Sir Lewis Cornelys, as everybody knows,
lives in a palace on Campden Hill, a house of
many windows, and, whichever window he looks
out of, he sees his own garden and very little
else. There was no pleasanter or more festive
house than his in London, winter or summer."
I quote this, as probably it may not be known
to everybody that Sir Lewis was knighted on
the memorable occasion of Trilby's birthday,
when she was presented at the drawing — and
every other — room. With much kindly fore
thought his friend and biographer allows him to
be eighty years old in the early sixties, thereby
enabling him to have attained to-day the ripe old
age of one hundred and fourteen.
Well, he was one of du Maurier's earliest
friends, and when Taffy the Laird, and Little
Billie, "a-smokin' their pipes and cigyars," told
the cabby to drive to Mechelen Lodge, I found
my way to what I called Moray Lodge, and met
128

with du Maurier.
them there. And there too, to be sure, was
Glorioli, " the tall, good-looking swarthy foreigner
from whose scarcely parted, moist, thick, bearded
lips issued the most ravishing sounds that had
ever been heard from throat of man or woman
or boy."
As we now empty one or the other of the
million bottles that are about, marked " De
Soria, Bordeaux," we often think with gratitude
of the great wine-grower and still greater singer,
so correctly described as " singing best for love
or glory in the studios of his friends."
To return to Arthur Lewis : —
He occupied an exceptional position, inasmuch
as he had made his house a centre towards which
intellectual London gravitated. When he had
done this, that, and the other to make his
bachelor days memorable to a host of friends,
he wound up by marrying one of England's
fairest women, our great actress, Kate Terry.
It was in those early days that Ellen, the
debutante, was introduced to the dramatic world
as " Kate Terry's sister." Since then Kate,
having elected to rest on her laurels, is proud
to be referred to by the younger generation as
" Ellen Terry's sister." 129 R

In Bohemia
In early life Lewis had various roads open to
him. Born, as he was, with the capacity of a
man of business, the means and opportunities of
a man of leisure, and the talents of an artist, he
managed to follow the three roads at the same
time, and they all led to well-deserved success.
He was to be found at his desk in Regent Street,
at his easel in the studio, or on the threshold of
that big billiard and reception room which he had
built to entertain his friends. Himself an artist,
and for many years a regular exhibitor at the
Royal Academy, he was on terms of close friend
ship with the men who had made their mark in
the art-world, and with many who were destined
to become famous. He was a Maecenas of the
right sort, knowing a good thing when he came
across it, and frequently acquiring it before the
sleepy world awoke to its merits.
I well recollect the enthusiasm with which he
welcomed the first pictures Joseph Israels ex
hibited in England in 1862. Neither in the
English nor in the Dutch department of the
Exhibition could he ascertain whether these two
pictures, "The Drowned Fisherman" and
" Washing the Cradle," were for sale. But luck
would have it that he was introduced to Israels
130

with du Maurier.
at the Academy soirde, and the artist, assuring
him that the pictures were " certainly for sale,"
Lewis secured the coveted works, and was thus
the first to establish Israels' fame in England.
The gatherings in Moray Lodge were unique
in their way. It was characteristic of the master
and the house that they made everybody feel at
home, from the titled aristocrat in the dress-suit
to the free-and-easy brother-brush or pen, and
the sometimes out-at-elbow friend Bohemian.
There was the Duke of Sutherland, the Mar
quis of Lome, Lord Dufferin, Mr. Frederic
Leighton, Associate of the Royal Academy, Fred
Walker, who on several occasions designed the
cards of invitation for Lewis, and his namesake,
the musician Fred Walker, who sang tenor in the
choir, of which more presently. There was Lord
Houghton, Charles Dickens, Wilkie Collins, Ros
setti, Landseer, Daubigny, Gustave Dore, Arthur
Sullivan, Leech, Keene, Tenniel, &c, &c. It is
as hard to pass those names over without com
ment as it must have been to run the gauntlet of
Scylla and Charybdis, for every one of them brings
back some recollection, and calls upon the pen to
start a paragraph with an " I well remember."
But that would lead me away from Moray
!3i

In Bohemia
Lodge and the famous Saturday evenings, and I
never was, and am not now, in a hurry to get
away from that hospitable mansion.
The billiard-table was boxed over on the gala
nights and transformed into a buffet. It was
covered with bottles and glasses, pipes and cigars,
and towards the close of the evening with moun
tains of oysters. The amount we consumed on
one occasion was 278 dozen, as I happen to
know. But the great attraction at these gather
ings was the part-singing of the twenty-five
"Moray Minstrels." John Foster was the con
ductor, and led them to such perfection that the
severest critic of the day, dear old crabbed
Henry F. Chorley, proclaimed them the best
representatives of the English school of glee-
singing. Another no less interesting feature was the
performance of small theatrical pieces. Du
Maurier and Harold Power had given us charm
ing musical duologues, like " Les Deux Aveu-
gles," by Offenbach, and " Les Deux Gilles,"
with great success, and that led to further
developments and far-reaching consequences. A
small party of friends were dining with Lewis.
" What shall we get up next? " was the question
132

with du Maurier.
raised. " Something new and original," suggested
the host. " Now, Sullivan, you should write us
something." "All right," said Sullivan, "but
how about the words ? Where's the libretto ? "
"Oh, I'll write that," said Burnand. And thus
those two were started. "Cox and Box," a
travesty of " Box and Cox," was read, re
hearsed, and performed within a fortnight, at
Burnand's house and at Moray Lodge. Du
Maurier was " Box," Harold Power " Cox," and
John Foster " Sergeant Bouncer." Du Maurier's
rendering of " Hush-a-by, Bacon," was so sym
pathetic and tender that one's heart went out to
the contents of the frying-pan, wishing them
pleasant dreams.
Then there was his famous duet with " Box,"
reciting their marriage to one and the same
lady, and the long recitative in which the
printer describes his elaborate preparations for
suicide. How he solemnly walked to the cliff and
heard the seagulls' mournful cry — and looked all
around — there was nobody nigh. Then (dis
posing his bundle on the brink) — "Away to
the opposite side I walked." ("Away" on the
high A, that Sullivan put in on purpose for du
i33

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
Maurier, who possessed that chest-note in great
fulness.) I must skip a few years and speak of a
drawing that appeared in Punch in 1875,1 and
which has a special interest for me ; it brings
back to my mind a happy thought of du
Maurier's, which is closely connected with a
particularly happy thought of my own, that took
root then and has flourished ever since.
I must explain that there was a time when
I had to console myself with the reflection that
the course of true love never runs smooth. A
lady whom in my mind I had selected as a
mother-in-law, by no means reciprocated my
feelings of respect and goodwill. But the young
lady, her daughter, fortunately sided with me,
and had, in fact, given her very willing consent
to the change in her mother's position which
I had suggested. I was naturally anxious to
assure that young lady as frequently and as
emphatically as possible how much I appre
ciated her assistance, and how determined I
was never to have any other mother-in-law but
the one of my choice ; nor could there be
1 Published by kind permission of the proprietors of
Punch. J34

\ .«v.x

From The Art of Caricature AN EXAMPLE OF DUMAURIER's EARLY WORK (1871;)
"La Politesse" can be carried too far even among the politest people in the world— for instance it can be carried rieht acrn« «,.
pavement, so as'to stop the way. B "* lne

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
anything obscure in such a declaration, as
of three sisters in the family that particular
one was the only unmarried one. But neither
in obscure nor in explicit language was I
allowed to approach her ; a blockade was de
clared and rigorously enforced, and we were
soon separated by a distance of some few
hundred miles.
I can look back complacently on the troubles
of those days now that twenty years have elapsed
since I emerged victorious from the contest ; but
then the future looked blank and bleak, and I
felt nonplussed and down-hearted. Knowing,
however, what a faint heart is said never to
win, I was anxious to keep mine up to the
mark, and with a view to stimulating its
buoyancy I went to make a friendly call on
du Maurier. He would, I felt sure, be sym
pathetic, and, whatever else might be wanting
in that troublesome eye of his, there would be
a certain vivifying twinkle in it that could always
set me up.
It was as I expected, and I had the full benefit
of the eye, and of an ear, too, that he lent
willingly as I told him how matters stood.
"Well," he said, "if you can't smuggle in a
i37 s

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
letter, let's smuggle in your portrait. It will
be rather a joke if she comes across you in
Punch. I've just got a subject in which I can
use you."
To be sure, I jumped at the idea, only
beseeching him to make me as handsome as
he possibly could, without losing sight of the
main object, viz., that the young lady should
be able to recognise me. Her mother too, I
felt sure, would not fail to be duly impressed,
for to figure in Punch would raise me in her
estimation as a person of no small importance.
The drawing was made and published, and
the scheme worked well ; coupled, perhaps, with
a few millions of other influences, and with the
assistance of the Fates, it achieved the desired
result, and before a year had elapsed the original
drawing could be presented by du Maurier to
the young lady, now become a bride, as a
memento of bygone troubles.
One more digression suggested by the name
of Arthur Sullivan ; it shall be the last. I am
not going back to the time when we were
boys together in Leipsic, but will only mention
him in connection with Carry ; this time Carry
in another form. 138

Co "(TUT" tOtntr Ou-tfW iV^V ¦ ..«,
V a
fY~ia^r —j° iAj-tn^n^irurtkrsvir — dwr— -v^-tP^-r^-
—r—r- r—f — - -T-- T^- T- - /-- tf-r-J*- — /*¦ ^r--r-, -
t/o-a^^ ^ 

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
Shortly after that big wave intervened that
separated her from us a happy chance put me
in possession of a dog, the most affectionate
and lovable of Skye terriers.
I named him Carry.
That dog, his qualities and virtues, and espe
cially his musical gifts, deserve more than a
passing mention ; but, trusting that he, like every
dog, will have his day, I will here only transcribe
a letter of his that he wrote with the assistance
of his friend, Arthur Sullivan, who, attracted
perhaps by the gifts above named, had kindly
taken charge of him during my temporary
absence on the Continent. Poor dog ! He is
dead now ; so that there can be no indiscretion
in publishing his bark and its translation. The
former is best given in its original setting. The
latter, purporting to be a " Translation of the
foregoing by A. S.," runs as follows : —
" My dear and esteemed Master, — My kind
friend, Mr. Sullivan, who pretends to be as fond
of me as you are, has taken me away from the
enjoyment of a delicious mutton bone, in order
to answer your letter ; and as I cannot find a
pen to suit me well, he is writing whilst I dictate.
141

In Bohemia
I was very low-spirited the other day after
leaving you, and appeared to feel the parting
very much, but it soon wore off under the
influence of biscuit, bones, and kindness ; indeed,
I must do Sully and his family the justice to say
that they try to do the utmost to make me happy
and comfortable, although they don't always
succeed, for sometimes I appear dissatisfied
(hoping, entre-nous, by that means to get more
out of them).
" I have several idiosyncrasies and failings,
of which my master (pro tern.) is trying to
correct me, but finds it rather hard work, for
I am not so easily brought out of them. I
have a will of my own, but Sully says : ' Train
up a dog in the way it should go, and he will
not depart, &c, &c.' — and Sully is right.
" Don't you think it is a bad plan to wash me
with soap ? I think it deters me from licking
my skin, and consequently from having those
ideas of cleanliness engendered within me which
are so necessary to every well-bred dog moving
in good society !
" I want to get back to my bone, but Sully
says I must first deliver a message from him.
You are to give his love to your dear parents
142

with du Maurier.
(in which I heartily join), and tell them how
grieved he was that he did not see them to
wish them ' God speed ' before they left England,
and how it hurt him to think that a long, long time
would perhaps elapse before he should see them
again. " And now, my dear master, I must say ' Good
bye.' Much love in few words, in which Sully
joins me. " Believe me, ever your
" Attached and faithful dog,

" F. Moscheles, Esq."
And now I come to du Maurier's last letter —
the best, as I am sure every right-minded person
will admit. I have kept it "pour la bonne
bouche " (excuse my quoting French. " Will me
not of it," as our neighbours say ; there are
unassailable precedents for such quoting, you
know — or ought to know). The letter in ques
tion speaks of an event so momentous, that of
i43

In Bohemia
all events it is the one most worthy to "be
marked with a white, white stone " ; and marked
it was, if not with a stone, with satins and laces
and a veil and white orange blossoms.
" Come and be introduced to the future Mrs.
Kicky," it said. "She intends to celebrate her

r^M([]

t 

2 1 st birthday by a small dance. There will be
friends and pretty girls, 'en veux tu, en viola.'
So rek-lect, olf'lah, Tuesday, at half-past seven."

The drawing shows how I was introduced, and
how graciously I was received.
The letter needs a word of explanation, as it
144

with du Maurier.
speaks of the " future Mrs. ' Kicky,' " and I have
not yet mentioned that Kicky was but another
name for du Maurier. He got it at an early
period of his life. Just as any other baby less
favoured by " Dame Fortune the witch " would
have done, he gave himself his nickname. He
picked it up in Brussels when he was two years
old, and under the care of Flemish servants.
They called him "Mannekin" (little man), and

that he converted into " Kicky." I append one
of the numerous varieties of his signature.
The Rag, Tag, and Bobtail had its day, and
was shelved soon after we bid adieu to Bohemia ;
but the Kicky survived and flourished, and to
day not only his old chums, but those nearest
and dearest to him, feel that they could not do
without that particular appellation, associated as
it is with a thousand and one happy memories.
H5 T

In Bohemia with du Maurier.
And having arrived at that busiest of stations,
the Matrimonial Junction, where the converted
bachelor alights and changes for Better or for
Worse, these pages fitly come to a close, meant
as they were only to sketch some of the pleasant
recollections that I, in common with so many of
his friends, have of du Maurier's bachelor days.

UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON
146

A SELECTED LIST
OF
MR. T- FISHER UNWIND
publications.
MODERN FRENCH MASTERS.
A Series of Biographical and Critical Reviews. By
American Artists. With 37 Wood Engravings by
Timothy Cole and others, and 28 Half-Tone Illus
trations. Edited by John C. Van Dyke. Royal 8vo,
elegantly bound in cloth gilt, price £2 2s.
Twenty biographical and critical monographs of the most famous
French Masters, written by their American pupils and admirers — in
each case an American artist, chosen because of his knowledge and
sympathy with the painter of whom he writes. The book is edited by
Prof. John C. Van Dyke, of Rutgers College, author of " Old Dutch and
Flemish Masters." It is illustrated by 66 full-page pictures (insets) by
Timothy Cole, Woolf, Kingsley and others, chosen designedly from
both wood-engravings and half-tones, placed side by side, to allow
judgment as to the relative merits of the two classes of reproduction.

THE LIFE OF GENERAL GORDON.
By Demetrius C. Boulger, author of " The History
of China," &c. Illustrated. 2nd Ed. Demy 8vo,
2 vols., cloth, 2 is.
This is the most important life of " Chinese Gordon " that has yet
been written. Mr. Boulger has had a considerable amount of new and
highly interesting material relative to the hero's career placed in his
hands.

A SELECTED LIST OF

ON THE NILE WITH A CAMERA.
By Anthony Wilkin. With over ioo Illustrations
from photographs by the Author. Demy 8vo, cloth, 21s.
The colossal wonders of Egypt are among the things no one wearies
in hearing about. Mr. Wilkin has freshly come from the East with a
well-stocked travel-scrip, and furnishes in this book much pleasant and
unpretentious matter for fireside reading.

PIONEER WORK IN THE ALPS OF NEW ZEALAND.
By Arthur P. Harper. 40 Illustrations and Maps.
Demy Svo, cloth, 21s. net. — Also, an Edition de
Luxe printed on Japan paper, limited to 20 copies,
price £$ 5s. net.
Mr. Harper did a great deal of useful work in exploration and map
making before Mr. Fitzgerald and Zurbriggen had touched the virgin
peaks of New Zealand. His pioneering experiences are of much
interest and value, involving as they do observations and notes which
could not be made by explorers who perform their feats in a brilliant
hurry.
THE GREY MAN.
By S. R. Crockett. Edition de Luxe. With Portrait
and 26 Drawings by Seymour Lucas, R.A. Limited
to 250 copies, signed by Author. Crown i\to, cloth gilt,
2 is. net.
ARCHITECTURE IN ITALY.
From the Sixth to the Eleventh Century. Historical and
Critical Researches by Raffaele Cattaneo. Trans
lated by the Contessa Isabel Curtis-Cholmeley in
Bermani. With Photogravure Frontispiece and over
100 Illustrations. Crown \to, parchment, 21s. net.
No writer has as yet made this period the special object of his
studies ; the few who have written about it have done so superficially
and imperfectly, so that Cattaneo had the difficult work of retracing
art-history for nearly six centuries. That this work is recognised as a
standard volume is proved by there already being French, German, and
Italian editions of it. The English edition is a translation from the
Italian and contains all the illustrations of the original printed in Venice
by the famous house of Ongania.

MR. T. FISHER UNWIN'S PUBLICATIONS.

CLIMBING REMINISCENCES OF THE DOLOMITES.
By Leone Sinigaglia. Translated by Mary Alice
Vialls. With an Introduction by Edmund J. Gar
wood, A.C., Member of the Italian Alpine Club.
Profusely Illustrated. With Map. g% bv 6^. Cloth,
21s. net. — Also an Edition on Japan paper, limited to
20 copies, bound by Zaehnsdorf, £5 5s. net.
This work of the well-known Italian climber is published in the hope
that it may be of use to the increasing number of English mountaineers
who devote themselves to rock-climbing. In the absence of such an
English guide to the Dolomite region, it is thought that this book,
describing, as it does, the mountain routes followed with great accuracy
and detail, may supply a want that has long been felt.
It may likewise serve to make better known a most picturesque and
interesting district to English travellers, and to familiarise them with
the beautiful scenery of the Dolomites.

FORERUNNERS OF MODERN SOCIALISM DURING
THE SIXTEENTH AND SEVENTEENTH CEN =
TURY. By Karl Kautsky and Ed. Bernstein. Translated
from the revised German edition. Two Vols. Demv
8vo, 2 is.
Mr. Bernstein was of all men most qualified to present a subject of
such economic interest as the history of social reformers in England in
the seventeenth century. This English translation of the "Geschichte"
is better and more compact than the original, since it has been subject
to revision, in which that well-known economic authority, Mr. C. H.
Firth, has kindly aided. Those who anticipate reading Mr. Bernstein's
" Life of Engels " will certainly add to the pleasure and profit derivable
from that work by the perusal of this.

TWELVE BAD WOMEN.
A Companion Volume to " Twelve Bad Men." Edited
fry Arthur Vincent. Illustrated. Demy Svo, cloth, 16s.
This Volume is made up as follows : — i. Alice Perrers (the rapacious
paramour of Edward III.)— ii. Alice Arden (Shakespeare's chosen type
of a bad woman) — iii. Mary Frith (" Moll Cutpurse ") — iv. The Coun
tess of Somerset (Sir Thomas Overbury's murderess) — v. Barbara,
Duchess of Cleveland — vi. Marv Young ("Jenny Diver") — vii. Teresia
Constantia Phillips (Walpole's" " Con Phillips ")— viii. The bigamous
Duchess of Kingston — ix. Mrs. Brownrigg (the cruellest of women) —
x. Elizabeth Canning (Impostor)— xi. Mary Bateman (" The Yorkshire
3

A SELECTED LIST OF

Witch ") — xii. Mary Anne Clarke (the baleful genius of "the brave old
Duke of York").
It has not been necessary to go further afield than the British Isles to
find members of the gentle sex worthy to rank as counterparts to the
Twelve Bad Men, and these pages will be found to show that the
"badness" of Englishwomen is not so limited in kind as popular
phraseology has elected to make it seem. The characters named have
been selected as types of various forms of vice as developed in the
feminine heart, and if all the deadly sins are not represented it is
believed that material is here afforded for a revised edition (with addi
tions) of the accepted list.

THE EARLY CORRESPONDENCE OF HANS VON
BULOW :
Edited by his Widow. Selected and Translated by Con
stance Bache. With Portraits. Demy Svo, cloth, 16s.
This volume contains the letters of Billow's early years, ranging from
the age of eleven to that of twenty-five. It gives the most graphic
description of the early difficulties of the young musician, firstly in
taking the step which decided his career, and secondly in making his
way in that career when finally adopted. His long and close connec
tion with Liszt and Wagner also comes prominently forward, to say
nothing of other great, though lesser, lights in the musical and literary
world, such as Joachim, Cossmann, Raff, Uhlig, Cornelius, Brendel,and
many others who at that time centred around Liszt at Weimar, and
with all of whom Biilow was on terms of the greatest intimacy. The
most interesting feature of the work is perhaps the letters to his parents :
the absolute confidence that existed between himself and his father,
and, in a lesser degree and though broken for a while by his choice of
a profession, between himself and his mother, gives to these an intimate
and particularly naive character all their own. The volume leaves him
well launched in his career, but the difficulties he had to contend with,
and the rebuffs he met with in many of his first attempts, not only form
a most interesting narrative, but should also serve as a lesson and an
encouragement to many another aspiring young artist.

THE INNER LIFE OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS:
Selected from the writings of William White, with a
Prefatory Note by his son, and an Introduction by
Justin McCarthy, M.P. 2 Vols. Demy Svo, 16s.
The late Mr. William White was, for many years, door-keeper of the
House of Commons, and, in this capacity, gained a unique knowledge
of the parliamentary life of his day. He witnessed the early skirmishes
4

MR. T. FISHER UNWIN'S PUBLICATIONS.
between Mr. Disraeli and Mr. Gladstone, and sketched many a word-
portrait, none the less vivid for being un-academical, for the Illustrated
Times, from whose pages these extracts are mainly derived. From
them it will be gathered that Mr. White was the pioneer of the modern
"descriptive reporting" which obtains so largely nowadays.

THE YEAR AFTER THE ARMADA.
And other Historical Studies. By Major Martin A. S.
Hume, Author of " The Courtships of Queen Eliza
beth." 2nd Ed. Demy Svo, cloth gilt. Illustrated. 12s.
This is a bright collection of studies, as valuable to the historian as
they are entertaining to the general reader. The principal study tells,
for the first time, from unpublished contemporary diaries the strange
story of England's attempt to take revenge for the Armada by a joint-
stock invasion of Portugal ; and each of the other eight chapters lays
bare some extraordinary or obscure story of the past — in every case
with the aid of absolutely new contemporary material — such as the
coming of Philip II. to marry Queen Mary, the almost incredible
intrigues which surrounded the deathbed of Charles the Bewitched,
and the strange vagaries of the Sumptuary Laws. The author's repu
tation for original research is a guarantee that, extraordinary as some
of these studies are, not a fact is stated in them which is not supported
by serious contemporary evidence.

TALKS ABOUT AUTOGRAPHS.
By George Birkbeck Hill, Editor of " Boswell's Life
of Johnson." With Portraits and Facsimiles. Square
Svo, cloth, 12s.
Mr. Birkbeck Hill, the zealous "Johnsonian," is in his way a specialist
in autographs, and can chat about them very pleasantly. The volume
contains, moreover, a number of facsimiles, including letters from
Charles Lamb, Southey, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and documentary sig
natures of leaders in French revolutionary movements.

RANCH LIFE AND THE HUNTING TRAIL.
By Theodore Roosevelt. Illustrated by Frederick
Remington. Royal Svo, cloth, ios. td.
This is a new edition of Mr. Roosevelt's work on life in the Far
West. Both author and artist are well-known ranchmen and hunters
of big game, and some of Mr. Remington's most famous pictures are to
be found in its pages.

MR. T. FISHER UN WIN'S PUBLICATIONS.
TURKEY AND THE ARMENIAN ATROCITIES.
By Rev. Edwin M. Bliss, Late cf Constantinople ;
Editor of "Encyclopaedia of Missions;" Assistant
Editor of " The Independent." Assisted by Rev.
Cyrus Hamlin, Prof. E. A. Grosvenor, of Amherst
College, and other Oriental Scholars ; also several eye
witnesses of the Greatest Massacres. With an Introduc
tion by Miss Frances E. Willard. Profusely
Illustrated. Square 8vo, cloth gilt, ios. td.
A graphic and thrilling history of Turkey, the Armenians, and the
events that have led up to the terrible massacres that have occurred in
Armenia, with a full account of the same — so bloody and brutal in
character and extent as to shock the entire Christian world.

NEW EDITION.
MODERN SCIENTIFIC WHIST.
By C. D. P. Hamilton, i Vol. Large crown Svo.
600 pages ; over 5,000 Pip Illustrations ; 268 Dia
grams, and 20 Tables. Beautifully printed in red and
black, on paper specially manufactured for this book.
Bound in cloth gilt, Ss. bd. net.
A digest, by a practical whist-player, that will be appreciated by the
beginner for its simplicity and clearness, and by the expert for its com
prehensiveness. The most exhaustive treatise ever written on the
subject of Whist.
MY LONG LIFE.
By Mary Cowden-Clarke. Crown Svo, cloth gilt,
with 4 Engravings and 4 Collotypes, 7s. td.
Mrs. Cowden-Clarke is, if the term be admissible, the doyen of
women writers. Her concordance to the plays of Shakespeare speaks
eloquently for her industry, but she is the author, besides, of many
other works, mainly of a retrospective character. Here we have her
own autobiography — the autobiography of the oldest descendant of the
great Novello family, who were the pioneers of cheap music, the
friends and publishers of Mendelssohn, and whose name is indissolubly
connected with the production of oratorio in this country. Great
interest attaches, therefore, to this voice from the past. Her many
anecdotes have, indeed, a special individuality and charm.

MR. T. FISHER UN WIN'S PUBLICATIONS.
THE REAL JAPAN:
Studies of Contemporary Japanese Manners, Morals,
Administration, and Politics. By Henry Norman.
40 Illustrations. New Edition, with a new Preface.
Large Crown Svo, cloth, 7s. td.

A PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF THE EUROPEAN
MILITARY ADVENTURES OF HINDUSTAN (1784=
1803).
Compiled by Henry Compton. New and cheaper
edition. Map and Illustrations. (A New Volume of
The Adventure Series.) Large crown Svo, cloth, 7s. td.

SfjySbtllino IRovete.
Uniform in style with S. R. Crockett's Works. Large
crown Svo, cloth, gilt top, 6s. each.
THE GREY MAN.
By S. R. Crockett.
No words are necessary in introducing a new " Crockett." An
exciting historical novel of the first class, with plenty of fighting, is
here offered by the indefatigable author of "The Raiders."
IN A MAN'S MIND.
By John Reay Watson. Uniform with " The
Raiders."
Have we here the Howells of Australia ? It may be so, for the
mingled subtlety and simplicity of the sophisticated colonial have been
hit off in this story in quite the approved Bostonian manner. The hero
is a Queenslander, and his life's romance is the subject of minute and
dexterous analysis, and whether he will choose his blooming and com
monplace cousin or the sensitive Brisbane shop-girl, his social inferior,
is.a matter of breathless interest till it is finally decided to his and the
reader's satisfaction.
THE HERB-MOON.
By John Oliver Hobbes, Author of " Some
Emotions and a Moral," &c. Frontispiece.
7 u

A SELECTED LIST OF

A DAUGHTER OF THE FEN.
By J. T. Bealby.
This is an historical novel of the Fen Country in 1764, and is of a rare
class. It has two great claims to merit, viz., it is an exceedingly inte
resting account of the enclosure of the Fen Country, which measure
created great opposition, rioting, and bloodshed on the part of the
Fensmen, and it is a very spirited and exact picture of the social life,
habits, manners, and customs of the Lincolnshire fen folk. The author
tells us in his preface that he has put all the local knowledge he
possesses into the book. Rarely is there a novel so ample, so charac
teristic, so full and satisfying in detail. The novel is also a very
exciting one ; when once well begun the interest never flags.

IN BOHEMIA WITH DU MAURIER.
By Felix Moscheles. Illustrated with 63 Original
Drawings by G. du Maurier. Large crown 8vo,
cloth, ios. td.
These two well-known artists — the author and the subject of his
reminiscences — were art-students together, and for some time became
inseparable companions. The result is in part preserved by the large
number of free and humorous sketches reproduced in this volume —
artist's disjecta membra. Much light is thrown upon the sources from
which du Maurier obtained that hypnotic local colour which he used in
" Peter Ibbetson" and "Trilby."

RAMBLES IN GALLOWAY.
By Malcolm Mc L. Harper. New edition, with a
Map and upwards of 80. Illustrations. Demy 8vo,
handsomely bound in art linen, blocked gold, gilt top,
6s. net.
This volume will make a most suitable companion to the works of
Mr. S. R. Crockett, treating, as it does, of the country with which his
writings are chiefly associated. Indeed a reading of the " Rambles "
tend to give a further zest to the writings of that distinguished novelist.
The author has travelled every foot of the ground referred to in the 400
or thereby closely-printed pages which constitute the book, noting on
his way with the eye of an artist the many beauties of the scenery, of
loch, hill, and valley, and few places of importance in this picturesque
province have been passed unnoticed. The book will be equally
welcome to the artist, the antiquary, and the archaeologist, and by the
many readers who would like to know more of Crockett's county it will
be hailed as a boon.

MR. T. FISHER UNWIN'S PUBLICATIONS.

QUEER PEOPLE."
A Book about Brownies and others. By Palmer Cox.
Profusely Illustrated. Large Quarto, cloth gilt, 6s.

BARDS OF THE GAEL AND GALL.
Edited by Dr. George Sigerson. Small crown 8vo,
cloth, 6s. net.
This will be a welcome book for those who have found little comfort
in existing anthologies. A good deal of original matter has been
included in this charming collection of Irish lyrics.

A VILLAGE POLITICIAN:
The Life Story of John Buckley. By J. C. Buckmaster.
About 350 pp. Crown Svo, 6s.
This is a volume containing the interesting reminiscences of a lead
ing pioneer of the Free Trade movement. It brings once more to the
mind of the reader the thrilling times when the repeal of the Corn Laws
was still unaccomplished.

WITHOUT PREJUDICE.
By I. Zangwill, Author of "The Master," " Children of
the Ghetto," &c. Crown Svo, cloth, 6s.
Author's Note.
This book is a selection — slightly revised — from my miscellaneous
work during the last four or five years, and the title is that under which
the bulk of it has appeared month by month in the Pall Mall Magazine.
In selecting, I have omitted those pieces which hang upon other
people's books, plays, or pictures : a process of exclusion which, while
giving unity to a possible collection of my critical writings in another
volume, leaves this first selection exclusively egoistic. — I. Z.

THE SHADOW SHOW.
By Peter S. Newell, Author of " Topsys and Turvies,"
&c. Paper boards, 5s.
This is another of Mr. Newell's unique productions, consisting of a
number of pictures (printed in colours) which, when held up to the light
and reversed, produce a startling effect upon the observer. Uniform in
style with this author's previous works.

A SELECTED LIST OF

THE COURTSHIPS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.
By Martin A. S. Hume, F.R.H.S., Editor of the
" Calendar of Spanish State Papers of Elizabeth "
(Public Record Office). Fourth and Cheap Edition.
Demy Svo, cloth, with Portraits, 6s.
"A clear and very interesting account. An excellent book." —
The, Times.
"Aluminous and fascinating narrative. Mr. Hume's masterly and
impartial narrative." — Pall Mal! Gazette.

THE ROMANCE OF A KING'S LIFE.
By ]• ]• Jusserand. With Photogravure Frontispiece
and other Illustrations. Fcap Svo, cloth, 6s.
This is the pathetic story of the imprisonment of James I. of Scotland.
It is here handled by one who has mastered all the documents bearing
on the subject, and is acquainted with the unfortunate king's romantic
compositions.
HAIN FRISWELL:
The Story of his Life. Written by his Daughter, Laura
Hain Friswell. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.
The essays that appeared in the Family Herald, during Mr. Hain
Friswell's editorship, were remarkable both for literary acumen and
common sense. They were no mere pot-pourris of quotation and anec
dote. This posthumous collection is on a par with that which, under
the title of " The Wicked World," had marked success in 1892 and the
more famous " Gentle Life " Series. The' opinions of the author of
" The Gentle Life " are well known. He was a prolific writer, a true
scholar, and an earnest and kindly man. As a satirist, novelist, and
essayist he was popular, " and deservedly praised fur his rare faculty in
expressing his thoughts in good sound English." In the forthcoming
book an attempt will be made to give an account of his early life, edu
cation, and determination to become an author. It will show his strong
religious faith, his indefatigable industry in many things as well as in
literature, his love for the working- classes, whose interests he had ever
at heart, and of whose education and advancement he never lost sight.

HIS FIRST YEAR AT SCHOOL.
By Alfred West. With Frontispiece. Crown Svo,
cloth, 5s.
This book aims at furnishing a vivid representation of every-day life
in upper-class preparatory schools. It should therefore prove interest-
10

MR. T. FISHER UN WIN'S PUBLICATIONS.
ing to boys, parents, and masters. The author's long and intimate
connection with schools and universities enabled him to describe
various types of pupils and pedagogues as they really exist. No
deliberate attempt is made to point a moral in the story ; nevertheless,
both boys and their parents may glean useful hints from its pages, for
the writer believes with Horace that " a joke often decides weighty
matters more vigorously and efficiently than severe treatment."

SCHILLER'S SONG OF THE BELL.
Translated by A. G. Foster- Barham. Twelve Illustra
tions by W. A. Phillips. Oblong 8vo, cloth, 5s. net.
Schiller's exquisite Lied, or " Lay of the Bell," has a peculiar and
appropriate fitness in these days of socialistic theories and tampering
with family ties. A pure, tender note pervades the story, and no less
is the blessing of honest faithful work and sympathy between men and
masters brought prominently forward. No man can rise from reading
the Lied without a glow of heart, which is the reflection of the beautiful
soul of the poet. Childhood, youth, manhood, love, happiness, grief,
are all there, and drawn by a master-hand. Mr. W. Alison Phillips'
illustrations have struck a new and rich vein. He has turned away
from the too tempting delineations of Retsch, and in lieu of feathers
and curled locks and moustachios, he gives us genuine peasant's life,
with all its simple grace and beauty. While, over all, mingling with
all, dominating all, yet " heartless — without sympathy," the measure
solemn tones of the Bell fall on the ear.

BRER MORTAL.
By J. Hancock. Illustrated. Crown Svo, cloth, 5s.
This is a subtle allegory on Mrs. Grundy and the world which takes
the apparently simple form of a child's story. Indeed the double-
entendre is so skilfully manipulated that the child may fancy he is
listening to a new Uncle Remus right the way through the story, while
the grown-up is laughing at the quips and cranks of the Spirit of Satire.

£be 5t0ll> Of tbe IRatiOnS.— New Volumes.
Illustrated, and with Maps and Indexes. Crown Svo,
cloth, 5s. each.
THE BALKANS.
By W. Miller, M.A.
This work traces the histery of Roumania, Servia, Bulgaria, and
Montenegro. II

A SELECTED LIST OF

BRITISH INDIA.
By R. W. Frazer, LL.B.
Every effort has been made to include in this volume of the " Story
of the Nations " Series the results of the recent researches in Indian
history. The course of ancient commerce between the East and West,
the rise and fall of the Portuguese settlements in India, the accounts of
the early English travellers and details of the first voyages are plainly
set forth. A description is given of the internal state of India towards
the close of the seventeenth century, and the causes detailed which
made the extension of British dominion inevitable. Throughout the
story the main facts which led to the extension of territorial possession
are dwelt on and the result of each step forward traced. The history
includes the most recent events, and an account is given of the moral
and material progress of the people under British rule.
MODERN FRANCE. 1789-1895.
By Andre Lebon.
CANADA. By J. G. Bourinot, C.M.G., LL.D., Lit.D.,
Clerk of the Canadian House of Commons,
Honorary Secretary and ex-President of the
Royal Society of Canada, &c.
In this book, written by an English Canadian whose constitutional
and historical works have won him much distinction, we have one of
the most interesting volumes that have yet appeared on the Dominion
of Canada. Like the eminent American historian, Francis Parkman,
Dr. Bourinot has given special prominence to the exceedingly pictu
resque days of the French regime (1604-1760), and his narrative, from
the beginning to the end, reads like a romance, though in no sense has
he sacrificed historical truth to mere graphic effect. The history of the
years of English dominion is more or less a record of the political and
constitutional struggles of communities isolated from each other until
1867, but the author has also here invested his narrative with interest
by giving most attention to the epoch-making events, and to tracing
step by step the development of a Confederation which now extends
from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, and has already won a place
among the nations. The illustrations have been selected with much
care, and add much to the vividness of the story. The portraits of the
makers of Canada are of special value to the students of the history of
a great English dependency.
SCHOOL IN FAIRYLAND.
By Euphaus H. Strain, Author of " A Man's Foes."
Illustrated by Leslie Brooke. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
The author of that vigorous historical romance, " A Man's Foes," has
here essayed something quite new. " School in Fairyland ' is a
12

MR. T. FISHER UN WIN'S PUBLICATIONS.
charming allegory, unobtrusive (i.e., not didactic), just the thing, in
other words, to please both children and their elders. The First Part
of this story relates the sayings and doings, during a month of compe
tition for prizes, of a number of little mortals who have been sent to
Fairyland for their education. The fairies' methods — the different
effects of these upon the children, and their apparently unfair pressure
upon the Head Pupil — are satisfactorily cleared up at the culminating
scene of the Prize-giving, by the unexpected but absolute justice of the
Examining Fairy's awards. Part II. deals with the astonishing adven
tures of two pupils who, displeased with the rank assigned them, return
to earth without leave. They are followed, with the fairies' approba
tion, by the Head Pupil. Their eventual and arduous return to the
Fairy School is rendered interesting by the frustration of the efforts of
the Head Pupil to help them, and by the manner in which the fairies,
while keeping watch over the " rebels," leave their education in the
hands of " other powers." The story, though distinctly written for
children, is not without an aim and suggestivenesss which may com
mend it to the notice of older readers.

RICHARD COBDEN AND FREE TRADE.
By P. Leroy-Beaulieu, Henry Dunckley ("Verax"),
Dr. Theodor Barth, The Right Hon. Leonard
Courtney, M.P., and The Right Hon. Charles
Villiers, M.P With Introduction by Richard
Gowing, Secretary of the Cobden Club. Crown Svo,
cloth, uniform in style with the Jubilee edition of
" Richard Cobden," 3s. 6d.
The first three contributions of this book are reprinted from Cos-
mopolis, and the fourth is Mr. Leonard Courtney's address at the jubilee
dinner of the Cobden Club, June 27, 1896. These, with the Frght Hon.
Charles Villiers' contribution and the Introduction by Mr. Richard
Gowing, form a comprehensive history of the Free Trade Movement.
THE SUNNY DAYS OF YOUTH.
A Book for Boys and Young Men. By Rev. E. J.
Hardy, Author of "How to be Happy though Married,"
&c. New and Cheaper Edition, cloth, 3s. td.
TALES OF IND._
By T. Ramakrishna, B.A., Author of '" Life in an Indian
Village." With an Introduction by the Hon. Rev. W.
Miller, M.A., LL.D., CLE. Crown 8vo, cloth,
3s. td. net.
" They are simple tales, told in English verse, which is characterised
by a purity and a simplicity that are very noteworthy in an Indian
writer, and which show considerable acquaintance of the English
language, especially of Tennyson's writings." — Madias Times.
13

MR. T. FISHER UNWIN'S PUBLICATIONS.
THE PRIVATE LIFE OF THE RENAISSANCE
FLORENTINES.
By Dr. Guido Biagi. 30 Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
The Librarian of the famous Florentine Library has a literary record
of great interest, and his reminiscences of the Renaissance have a per
manent value in their handy form.

FAIRY TALES FROM FINLAND.
Translated by Ella R. Christie from the Swedish of
Zack Topelius. 6 Illustrations by Ada Holland.
Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, y. 6d.
The literature of few countries in Europe has received less attention
than that of Finland, and not many are so rich in tales of poetic imagi
nation as the country of Zach, Zopelius, the Hans Andersen of Sweden.
Zopelius is by birth and sympathy a Finn, though the language he
employs is Swedish. All through his work there breathes the spirit of
patriotism and devotion to his country in all its aspects. Nowhere is
his love of nature better illustrated than in his tales of Fairyland,
familiar to every child in Sweden, although hitherto practically unknown
to England. The present, therefore, would appear a fitting moment
for bringing them in an attractive form before the British public, and
the translator offers this volume with the confident hope that in its
English garb it may receive a measure of the attention bestowed upon
the tales in Germany and other countries. Although conscious that it
is impossible fully to reproduce the subtle charm which pervades the
stories in the original, the translator has done her best to attain this
object, and trusts she is not entirely unsuccessful.
f)aIf«<trOWn WiOVelS— New Volume.
LE SELVE.
By Ouida. Crown Svo, cloth, 2s. td.
ftbe Cbilbretl'S QtUty— New Volumes.
Long Svo, cloth, gilt top, with Frontispiece. Price 2s. 6d.
each.
A CHILD'S HISTORY OF IRELAND.
By R. Barry O'Brien.
A CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
By Frances E. Cooke.
A CHILD'S HISTORY OF GERMANY.
By Mrs. Kate Freilgrath Kroeker.
14

c
4V.