Volume 53 — THE BRITISH QUARTERLY JANUARY 1871 (continued 2)

As some persons may say, 'Other nations need a larger gold coinage than we do, because their paper money and banking systems are not like ours; but their coinage is no proof of the extent of their business transactions,' it is best to mention that the united export and import trade of the European countries alone, who have already joined the Monetary Convention, or have signed preliminary treaties of adherence thereto, amounts to no less than five hundred million pounds sterling per annum at the present time, or to nearly one-fourth more than the aggregate exports and imports of the United Kingdom. It will now be desirable to mention the charges made for coining, or seigniorage, at the principal mints. In England no charge is made; but the 1¹/2d paid to the Bank on each ounce of standard gold bullion, amounts to about 0·1605 (say 3s. 2¹/2d.) per cent. In France it is different. When gold is carried to the mint there, coin is returned for it, with a certain deduction. This deduction is about ¹/4 per cent. Beyond this there is some delay, practically, before the coin is returned. On an average the loss of interest on the money, caused by this delay, amounts to about ³/4 per cent. Altogether, the charge is about 1 per cent., or more than six times the charge now made in England. In Prussia the charge is ¹/2 per cent., and the delay is about the same as in Paris. In America and India it is about the same.[7]

It appears from these statements that there is nearly a universal consensus of practice in charging a seigniorage. There is also a nearly universal consensus of opinion on the part of the leading authorities in political economy (such as Adam Smith and J. S. Mill) that such a seigniorage, when moderate, really enhances the value of the coin to the extent of the charge. If, therefore, this opinion is correct, it follows that the gold coinage of England, where no charge is made, will be depreciated—that is, will not obtain its real value in those countries where a charge is made. It is not difficult to show that this is the case in France; and if in one country where a seigniorage is charged, it follows, of course, in all of them.

A British sovereign of full weight contains about equal intrinsic quantities of pure gold with twenty-five francs twenty centimes.

'But it does not follow that even a full-weight sovereign is more valuable, either in a mathematical or in a commercial sense, than twenty-five francs of gold coin, when it is conveyed to a country within the operation of the Monetary Convention of December, 1865. There the sovereign ceases to be coin, and is nothing more than bullion; and, as bullion, is subject to a seigniorage or mint-charge, when converted into coin. And as, in the countries in question, twenty-five francs twenty centimes of bullion are, on the average, equal to only twenty-five francs of coin, the sovereign is practically "valuable" only as twenty-five francs.'—Royal Commission on International Coinage. Evidence of Mr. Hendriks, p. 145.

The reason for this must be that the British coinage is gratuitous. A sovereign may be regarded from two points of view—as a certain weight of gold of a known fineness, manufactured into a uniform shape by the officials of the mint, and as the current coin of the realm. At present no charge is made for the process of manufacture. The question to be decided is this, Is the coin, plus the process of manufacture, worth more than the same weight of gold before that process is performed? It appears that it is even worth less in France.

'The French Mint publishes a tariff giving a schedule of the coinage of each country, the legal weight and fineness in the country of its mintage, and a comparative estimate of fineness, according to the French Mint tariff of purchase, stating the value of each coin per kilogramme and per single piece.'

If the intrinsic value of the pure gold contained in the sovereign is considered, it is equal to 25·2079 at par; but the Mint tariff giving the price of purchase makes it only 25·12 at par, a deduction of about nine centimes on each sovereign. In estimating it thus,

'The French Mint Commission and M. Durand, its Commissioner-General, practically admit that current gold coin in France is equal in exchange to its full legal weight of bullion, plus seigniorage. In order to test this with mathematical exactness, we must observe that a kilogramme, i.e., 1,000 grammes of absolutely pure gold without deduction for seigniorage or mint charges, is worth 3444·4444 francs; or, with deduction at the rate of 6 francs 70 centimes, on 3,100 francs, ⁹/10 fine, the 1,000 grammes of absolutely pure gold, ¹⁰/10 fine, are worth 3,437 francs. Then, at ·916 fine, i.e., at the French Mint tariff of English gold coin treated as bullion, the proportionate value of the kilogramme of sovereigns, allowing for seigniorage or mint charge, comes out as given in the tariff, 3148·29 francs. And thus, doubtless, the French Mint arrives at its present equation of 25·12 francs = 1 sovereign. For the proportion is, 1,000 grammes : 3148·29 francs :: 7·98085 grammes : x = 25·12602 francs.'—Royal Commission on International Coinage. Mr. Hendriks' Evidence, p. 146.

It appears by this that the pound sterling is practically undervalued 2d. in France; one penny about in the intrinsic worth of the gold; and another, the cost of coining the metal, including the loss for delay in so doing.

Any alteration in the standard of the coinage is, beyond doubt, a measure which should not be carelessly undertaken. Those opposed to such a measure have stated that the standard had remained unchanged in this country for more than a century and a half. Great weight has also been attributed by some persons to the resolution of the House of Commons of 20th October, 1696, and passed again in the same words on the 12th June, 1822, 'That this House will not alter the standard of the gold and silver coins of this kingdom, in fineness, weight, or denomination.' A solemn declaration beyond doubt; but notwithstanding this, several changes have at various times been made in the currency of the realm.

In 1696, the year of the 'Resolution' silver was the sole legal tender.

In 1717, silver ceased to be the sole standard, and the double, or alternative standard of gold or silver, was adopted. This change was made under the advice of Sir Isaac Newton.

In 1774, silver was restricted, as a legal tender, to sums under £25 by tale, and above £25 by weight, but gold remained a legal tender without restriction.

In 1783, both gold and silver, without any restriction, became legal tender.

In 1797, bank notes were made legal tender. The effect of this change is well known.

In 1798, silver was made legal tender as in 1774.

In 1817, gold alone was made legal tender, silver being debased and restricted as mentioned before.

In the face of these alterations it is impossible to appeal to history for a proof that it is not lawful to make any desirable change.

But some objectors say, If the British Mint no longer coins gratis, gold bullion will no longer make its way to this country as freely as it now does. At the present time England is the great bullion exchange of the world, because it is the country where the mint charges are lowest. Deprive this country of this advantage, and the stream of bullion will be directed elsewhere. If this argument is of any validity, of course all, or at least the greater part, of the bullion which has already reached this country, must have found its way to the Mint. But what is the real fact? That not so much as the ninth part of the gold bullion imported into this country within the last four years, has been coined into British money.

The following figures are taken from the Statistical Abstract for 1869:—

COMPUTED REAL VALUE OF THE REGISTERED IMPORTS OF GOLD AND SILVER BULLION, AND SPECIE, INTO THE UNITED KINGDOM.

Gold.Silver.Total.

1865£14,485,570£6,976,641£21,462,211

186623,509,64110,777,49834,287,139

186715,800,1598,020,88823,821,047

186817,136,1777,716,41824,852,595

£104,422,992

AMOUNT OF GOLD AND SILVER MONEYS COINED AT THE ROYAL MINT.

Gold.Silver.Total.

1865£2,367,614£501,732£2,869,346

18665,076,676493,4165,570,092

1867496,397193,842690,239

18681,653,384301,3561,954,740

£11,084,417

Looking at these figures, it will scarcely be argued that the fact of gratuitous coinage at the Royal Mint is of any power in attracting gold bullion to this country.

The charges made on coining in other countries amount to large sums in the aggregate. It is desirable to show what these sums are.

It has been calculated that, upon each million pounds sterling worth of gold coin delivered, the charge (including adjustment for loss of interest in the fixed delays for delivery) amounts in all

England to£ 1,605

France10,490

United States15,000

Australia13,330

India13,330[8]

It is of itself a sufficient answer to those who think that the imposition of a seigniorage might prevent bullion from being brought to this country for coinage, to note what has taken place where such a charge is made. Both France and the United States have coined considerably more gold during the sixteen years mentioned above than this country. Yet the charge in the United States is nearly ten times that in Great Britain. The coinage at the Mint of Sydney has nearly doubled, yet the charge in Sydney is nearly as high as in the United States. The returns for the years 1867-1868 have not, as far as we are aware, yet reached this country. But considering the great and progressive increase in the Sydney coinages, it is highly probable that the coins struck in Australia during those years have greatly exceeded those minted in London.

To sum up:

It is at present open to this country to join the International Monetary Convention already in force between several of the principal European States.

It is probable that this Convention will shortly include the most important powers of the civilized world.

The population of the countries which have already given in their adherence to this Convention, greatly exceed in number the inhabitants of the British Islands. Their trade is more important in value than our own.

The disadvantages of being outside such a Convention are very great.

In joining it, a seigniorage would have to be charged on all British gold coinages.

A similar seigniorage is always charged on the coinages at the Sydney Mint; and the coinage at the Sydney Mint is now large and increasing—in the last two years probably more than that of the English Mint.

This seigniorage is no disadvantage to anyone. On the contrary, it possesses several advantages. At present, the last holder of a light sovereign is exposed to loss. This is unfair, as probably the last holder has done nothing to cause the coin to be light.

Were a seigniorage imposed, the first holder, the man who thinks he can gain something by causing the coin to be minted, would have—as is fair—to provide against the depreciation. Further, the first holder would have to pay for the work he has done; i.e., the manufacture of the coin—a charge now defrayed by the country.

It is clear that the absence of a seigniorage is not the cause which attracts gold to England, as barely the ninth part of the bullion imported finds its way to the Mint.

It is also clear that alterations, one at least of far more importance than the imposition of a seigniorage, have at former times been made in the status of the currency of the country.

To conclude, in the words of an early pioneer of British commerce, 'The exchanges practised in England, and principally in London, are confined within a narrow scantling, being but as a rivolet issuing out of the great streame of those exchanges that are used beyond the seas.'

Thus wrote 'that eminently deserving author,' Mr. Lewes Roberts, the 'delineator' of the Merchant's Mappe of Commerce in 1638. The 'true dimensions of our English traffique' even then excited his limited admiration and wonder. He could only imagine either that this commerce was 'at its full perfection, or that it aymes higher than can hitherto, by my weake sight, be either seen or discerned.' To us, 'the full streame' of that trade seems but 'a petty rivolet,' and we only wonder how, with the complicated and varying systems of money then in practice, with measures of length and quantity differing in almost every place of importance in Europe, any commerce could be kept up between differing nations. It is no longer needful to note now, as it was then, that different weights and measures were to be found in the principal cities even of the same country. It is no longer needful to bear in mind, as it was then, that there was a difference of exchange between places close to each other, and within the same territories. Commerce now would not bear such fetters. The vigour of the early days of trade surmounted those obstacles as the rush of a mountain stream drives it unhindered over rocks that vainly bar its course. In these times affairs approach what has been termed the stationary state. As the stream expands, the current becomes more gentle. As facilities for trade become greater, a smaller obstacle suffices to turn that trade from its course. It is now far more easy to give a vessel the option of discharging her cargo in one port or another, in one country or another, than it was then. Increased opportunities of intercourse render any change of the line of traffic far less difficult now than at any previous time. A smaller difference in profit renders such alterations of destination more desirable and more necessary. The course of commerce has just been compared to that of a stream—as dashing rapidly down the mountain glen, or slowly moving through the rich and level plain. Is it permissible to carry on the simile still further?—to watch how, as in Holland, a trifling artificially-produced change of level is sufficient to divert the scarcely perceptible flow of the almost stagnant flood—to add the waters of the Rhine to the Yssel, or of the Waal to the Lech? So as a general extension of wealth brings all countries more closely to one uniform condition, is it not needful to remove those obstacles which may cause similar diversions of our trade? Is it not needful to take a step onward, and to supply our own people with those advantages which are now possessed by many—will soon be possessed by almost all civilized nations? Among such advantages, to provide a coinage which, while entailing no expense on the country, either at its creation or for its maintenance, may be truly international in character, and aid the streams of our commerce to maintain their course around the globe.

Art. III.—(1.) Diaries and Correspondence of James Harris, first Earl of Malmesbury. Edited by his Grandson, the Third Earl. 4 vols. Second edition. London: 1845.

(2.) Letters of the first Earl of Malmesbury, his Family, and Friends, from 1745 to 1820. Edited, with Notes, &c., by his Grandson, the Right Hon. the Earl of Malmesbury, G.C.B. 2 vols. London: 1870.

From 1745 to 1820—this was the lifetime of James Harris, afterwards first Earl of Malmesbury; and such is the period over which the subject-matter of these two works extends. A more memorable period is not to be found in the annals of this country, or even in the long and more momentous history of Europe. It bridges the chasm which separates the old world of Europe from the new. It shows us that elder world in its last stage; it also shows us the beginning of that new and better order of things amongst which we now live. In the earlier period of those seventy-five years, we see the thrones of Louis the Fifteenth, of Frederick the Great, and Catherine of Russia, standing high above the heads of a crushed and miserable people, who counted for nothing either in their policy or in their pleasures. The simple facts of that old régime of royal absolutism now read like a monstrous dream. Vice and despotism in the palace, license and intrigue at the Court, penury in the cottage, and degradation everywhere, such is hardly an exaggeration of the general condition of the Continent at that time, and simple truth as regards France, who then, as since, boasted her leadership of civilization. As is always the case in analogous periods, the people themselves had sunk into a moral torpor. There were no national movements or aspirations. Religion, freedom, and the thirst for military conquest, are the three great motive powers of humanity. But all of these were then dead or in abeyance. Humanity had settled on its lees. Even mental philosophy, which so often flourishes in such dead times of a nation's history, threw its teachings into the scale in favour of an ignoble life; and while a pitiless Scepticism robbed men of heaven and all their religious beliefs, Materialism bade them "eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow ye die" for ever, like the trees of the wood and the beasts of the fields. While Philosophy robbed man of his moral freedom and a future life, Royalty denied him his personal and political liberty and plundered his pockets. In truth, the whole upper crust of society had become heartless, debased, and corrupt, while beneath was a seething mass of suffering, ignorance, and savagery. And so the upper crust, with king, priests, and nobles—crowns, croziers, and coronets—gave way and fell into an abyss of devouring fire, like that which burst up of yore beneath Sodom and Gomorrah, devastating the corrupt Cities of the Plain. The old world of Europe was cast into the furnace, and all things became new—Providence overruling the wrath of man to its own wise and merciful ends.

All history is an ennobling study, alike in its events and its examples; but life is short, and it is the French Revolution that commences the period of history of deepest importance to the present age. Beyond that chasm, so rudely severing the old world of Europe from the new, lies the realm of the historian; on this side begins a drama of opinions and events constituting by far the most useful field of study in secular and political knowledge. Changed since then, and still changing, as are the territorial arrangements of Europe, the conquests of Napoleon contributed greatly to the rise of the principle of Nationality which is now the great power at work in the alteration of boundaries and the shaping of kingdoms. It is true, Napoleon meant to conquer only for himself and for France. He sought to found a vast empire, with vassal kingdoms under the rule of his brothers and relatives. But in establishing this empire, he swept away a great deal of the obstructive rubbish of the former time. By expelling the Germans from Italy, and also by creating a titular King of Rome, he paved the way for the subsequent aspirations and movement of the Italians in favour of nationality and independence, which have at length borne their full fruits in the establishment of a free and united Italy. In like manner, by sweeping away a whole host of petty princedoms in Germany, he simplified the subsequent course of events towards a unification of Germany; while the iron despotism which he exercised in that country first compelled all Germans to feel the tie of brotherhood, in the glorious uprising of the Fatherland in 1813 against the foreign foe. Poland, too, during the ascendancy of Napoleon, temporarily (but only for the great conqueror's own purposes) regained in part its old existence, thereby keeping alive the hope for renewed independence; a hope which, improbable as our expectations may seem, we think will yet be realized amid the great trouble, and changes impending over the Continent. But still more memorable, and worthy of thoughtful study, are the times of the French Revolution, from the influence which they have produced upon the current of political, social, and religious thought, in subsequent times. A whole flood of new ideas, principles, and opinions was then poured upon the world. Some of these were wise and good, others were detestable, but nearly all of them were given to the world in so crude a form and in so savage or ruthless a spirit, as to make them as a whole so repulsive that even yet some of their excellencies are but little known or acknowledged. Every one recognises, however, the vast influence which that grand and terrible Revolution has exercised upon the whole current of subsequent thought; and if Europe has yet to undergo one more great upheaving of democratic revolution (as we believe it has), we may rely upon it that some of the more extreme and, at present, all but forgotten dogmas of the first revolution will again appear on the scene; including, we regret to say, that terrible development of infidelity and materialism, against which even Robespierre himself, with his firm belief in the Supreme Being and a future life, was unable successfully to contend. That storm of blasphemy and utter scepticism, in its worst features at least, soon blew over—and let us trust that such will be the case again; but any one who has watched the turn of thought on the Continent, and in Germany even more than in France, must expect any new outburst of democratic revolution to be accompanied by a manifesto of infidelity and an attempt to banish religion from the fabric and principles of society, in a manner only too similar to that which formed the worst feature of the first French Revolution.

The first Earl of Malmesbury was in public life, for the greater part of the time holding the highest diplomatic appointments abroad, during the whole course of these momentous events. From a vantage-ground enjoyed by few men either of this or any other country, he beheld the Courts and peoples of Europe both before the deluge and after it; and although he withdrew from public office before the termination of the great war with France, he continued to the end to be confidentially consulted by the Ministers of the time. The first of the two works whose titles are prefixed is by far the most valuable and important. All the leading men of the day—monarchs, statesmen, and generals—figure constantly in the diaries and correspondence. The work has been quoted with advantage to history by some of our ablest writers, and not least so by Lord Stanhope, in his 'Life of Pitt.' It constitutes a mine of historical and political facts; and though published too late to be made use of by our chief historians of the French war and of the immediately preceding times of the Empress Catherine and Frederick the Great, its value is fully recognised by the writers of the personal and political memoirs which have recently issued from the press. The second of the works on our list is of a lighter character, in which the incidents of fashionable life mingle largely with matters of State and Parliamentary politics. The one work shows us the grand movements of the time, the other gives us the bye-play. The latter, to which we chiefly confine our remarks, is a selection from private letters received by three generations of the Harris family. They are confidential exchanges of intelligence and ideas, in which the hopes and fears, the expectations, disappointments, and impressions of our ancestors are given in the very words in which they were described. The noble editor of these letters calls them 'waifs of the past,' but they possess a twofold interest, firstly, as illustrating the opinions and social habits of that past time; and secondly, they are reliable indications of what public feeling was at their date with regard to politics, society, and the general condition of our own and foreign countries:—

'And how eventful those years were,' says the editor: 'They saw the Highland rebellion; the American war; the despotic Courts of the Bourbons, of Catherine, and of Frederick; the great French revolution, and its subsequent phases of a bloody republic, an aggressive empire, an ephemeral restoration, and again of a short empire and a second restoration. They witnessed the struggles of our English people for greater freedom, even from the privileges claimed by their own House of Commons; and lastly, a far fiercer contest to save their own country from the subjugation under which for a time Napoleon held every nation in Europe except theirs.'

The chief recipient of the earlier letters in this collection was Mr. James Harris, the father of the first Earl of Malmesbury. The Harris family had lived quietly on an estate in Wiltshire from the middle of the 16th century; and Mr. James Harris first broke through the hereditary sameness of existence by becoming one of the most distinguished scholars of his day. Besides 'Philosophical Treatises,' he published a work on grammar, called 'Hermes,' which the accomplished Bishop Lowth styled 'the most beautiful example of analysis produced since the days of Aristotle,' and which obtained so high a reputation that it was afterwards translated and published by command of the French Directory in 1796. He was member of Parliament for Christchurch, which seat he held till his death, in 1780; was made a Lord of the Treasury in 1763, and in 1744 he became Secretary and Comptroller of the Queen's Household. When he first took his seat in the House of Commons, John Townshend asked who he was, and on being told that he had written on grammar and harmony, replied 'Why does he come here, where he will hear neither?' His literary talent and high personal character procured for Mr. Harris a wide circle of friends and acquaintances among the leading men of the times; and owing to the influence he thus acquired he was enabled to launch his son, afterwards the first Lord, early into public life. The present Earl (who edits these letters), speaking of the 'fêtes and social intercourse in the venerable city of Sarum,' where his great-grandfather resided, observes regretfully 'how much less of cliques and class categories then existed among the nobility and their neighbours than in the present day.'

Mr. Harris was passionately fond of music and art, and wrote treatises upon them, which indicate a more lively and sympathetic nature than would he inferred from the dry philosophy of his other works. His wife moved much in society, and appears to have possessed a similar taste for the fine arts. The best artists of the day were visitors at their house in Salisbury. The family went frequently to the theatre, and in the letters we find critical observations on most of the new dramas of the time. There are two letters from David Garrick, asking permission to bring out at Drury Lane a musical pastoral, called 'Damo and Amyrillis,' which, the editor says, 'was in Mr. Harris's hands,' but which, there seems to us reason to believe, was actually composed by him. As might be expected of a musical family, they attended the concerts and the opera, and by-and-by we read of 'the great house in the Haymarket,' and Italian singers come to the front. Then, as now, the Opera was a perilous venture, and both the managers and singers occasionally came to grief. Of one of the favourite singers of the day we read as follows:—

'All Manzolini's clothes and finery are seized, and carried to the Custom House, so he has sent a petition to the Lords of the Treasury to have them redeemed. This event diverts Lord North, as he says not one of the Treasury know a note of music, nor care one farthing what becomes of Manzolini, except Mr. Harris. He says your father has told so moving a story to Mr. Grenville about it, that he thinks it may affect him.'

A close friendship existed between Mr. Harris and Handel, who left him, by will, his portrait, and all his operas in manuscript. The very first letter in this collection has a touching allusion to the great musician, whose intellect had been affected by his labours, and who had become very eccentric. The Countess of Salisbury, a relative of Mr. Harris, writes to him thus (in 1745):—

'My constancy to poor Handel got the better of my indolence and my propensity to stay at home, and I went last Friday to see the 'Alexander's Feast;' but it was such a melancholy pleasure as drew tears of sorrow, great though unhappy Handel, dejected, wan, and dark, sitting by, not playing on the harpsichord, and to think how his light has been spent by being overplied in music's cause. I was sorry, too, to find the audience so insipid and tasteless (I may add unkind) as not to give the poor man the comfort of applause; but affectation and conceit cannot discern or attend to merit.'

In the next letter, the Rev. W. Harris writes to Mrs. Harris thus:—

'I met Mr. Handel a few days since in the street, and stopped and put him in mind who I was; upon which, I am sure it would have diverted you to have seen his antic motions. He seemed highly pleased, and was full of inquiry after you. I told him I was very confident that you expected a visit from him this summer (at Salisbury). He talked much of his precarious state of health, yet he looks well enough.'

Handel recovered from the mental affection; and five years later (1750) we find the Earl of Shaftesbury writing of him as follows:—

'I have seen Handel several times since I came hither (to London), and I think I never saw him so cool and well. He is quite easy in his behaviour, and has been pleasing himself in the purchase of several fine pictures, particularly a large Rembrandt, which is indeed excellent. We have scarce talked at all about musical subjects, though enough to find that his performances will go off incomparably.'

Music appears to have held a more prominent place in public amusements a century ago than is generally imagined; and when Giardini undertook the management of the Opera 'at the great house in the Haymarket' in 1764, Mrs. Harris opines that he will meet with no small difficulty, because the 'greatest part of the orchestra, and almost all the dancers, are engaged at the play-houses.' Giardini—a Piedmontese violinist and composer, who, after residing thirty years in England, went to Russia, where he died in 1793—came to grief in this operatic venture, and afterwards started an Opera in 'Mrs. Cornely's' rooms. Indeed, the Haymarket house, great as its celebrity became in the present century, was by no means a famous place in those times. In the same year (1764) we read in one of the letters, 'Almack is going to build some most magnificent rooms behind his house—one much larger than that at Carlisle House,' i.e., Mrs. Cornely's. This latter was the favourite place of resort at that time, and for many years afterwards. It was a place where subscription-concerts were held (one series mentioned in 1764, consisted of twenty-one concerts, of Bach's music, Cocchi's, and Abel's, for five guineas), where the Opera for some time had its seat; and also where masquerade parties and other fashionable entertainments were held. In 1770, we read of 'fifteen or sixteen young men of fashion and fortune giving a masquerade at Cornely's, to 800 people;' and in the following year we have a full account of a masquerade given at the same place by 'the gentlemen of the Tuesday Nights' Club.' Mrs. Harris, writing to her son (the future Earl) at Madrid, says: 'Mr. Charles Fox has offered to supply us with tickets. Your sisters and I mean to go; 'tis the only masquerade I wish them to go to. I shall try my utmost to persuade Mr. Harris (her husband) to accompany us. One difficulty is in the way; that is, no gentlemen are admitted in dominos.' Mr. Harris could not be persuaded to join the fashionable assembly, but Mr. Fox—who had just commenced his official career, as a Lord of the Admiralty—was, at that time, more at home in such parties than in Parliament. Mrs. Harris was greatly delighted with it. The following is part of her account of it:—

'Gertrude (Miss Harris) was dressed as the Pythian, that is, priestess to the temple of Apollo, a dress which she wore in one of the private plays. Louisa was an Indian Princess; Mr. Cambridge borrowed a dress for her which was pretty and fine—the habit, muslin with green and gold sprigs, with a turban and veil. I never saw anybody enter so strongly into the spirit of a masquerade as she did. She talked to numbers all in French, and had disguised her voice so well that even some of her friends did not discover her. Towards the end, she said she was frightened by the Devil speaking to her sister. Mine was a white domino, with a Mary Queen of Scots cap and ruff.

'Lord Edgecombe was a shepherdess, with a little lamb under his arm, and a most excellent figure he was. Mr. Banbury was a most excellent friseur; Lord Berkeley, a charlatan. Mrs. Crewe[9] looked beautiful as a nun with a yellow veil. Several gentlemen in women's clothes, not as old women....

'On the whole we are greatly entertained, for it was the first masked ball I ever saw. We supped soon after one; and then everybody unmasked, and a number of acquaintances we found, though we had found out many before. We got home soon after five; and, old as I may be, I never left a public place with more regret.'

Mrs. Cornely's rooms soon became the object of a jealous, and let us hope unfounded, attack. Giardini had opened an Opera there, which was 'greatly injuring that of Mr. Hobart's in the Haymarket;' and the latter gentleman 'informed against them' as an unlicensed house. There was a strong party on either side, 'harmoniacs' and 'anti-harmoniacs,' and the latter party brought forward scandalous charges. Only a week after the above-mentioned masquerade, Mrs. Harris writes thus:—

'The Harmoniac is over, and, what is worse, they threaten hard to indict Mrs. Cornely's as a house of ill-fame, and say that forty beds are made and unmade every day, which is hard, for a friend of ours says it is never more than twenty. But, joking apart, if they choose to demolish Mrs. Cornely, all elegance and spectacle will end in this town; for she never yet had her equal in these things, and I believe got but little, as all she undertakes is clever to a degree.'

There is a wonderful want of logical sequence in these few lines; and as to whether the scandalous charge was true or false, Mrs. Harris apparently was as little in a position to judge as we are now. Mrs. Cornely was originally Mademoiselle Pompeiati, a singer. She hired Carlisle House, in Soho-square, and established balls and assemblies by subscription. This place of fashionable resort, however, as well as its mistress, quickly thereafter declined in reputation. In 1774, we find Mrs. Harris writing:—'I went to Carlysle House, which Bach has taken for his concerts; the furniture, like Mrs. Cornely, is much on the decline; but, in my opinion, the place is better for the concert than Almack's.' Bach soon left these rooms, and opened a place of his own, splendidly fitted up. But even he was not allowed to carry on his performances without opposition, although of a different kind from that which proved fatal to Mrs. Cornely. 'Lord Hillsborough, Sir James Porter, and some others (writes Mrs. Harris) have entered into a subscription to prosecute Bach for a nuisance, and I was told the jury had found a bill against him. One would scarce imagine his house could molest either of these men, for Bach's is at the corner of Hanover-street.'

Amateur theatrical performances were in those days in great vogue among the upper classes, and usually took place in the country residences of the nobility and gentry in the winter months—during the Parliamentary recess, when even members of the Ministry (notably Mr. Fox) took part in them. Winterslow House was the famous place for these amateur performances. The ordinary audience consisted of the servants of the house and the neighbouring townspeople, as well as a select circle of visitors, which on one occasion included the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry, the Duchess of Bedford, Lord and Lady Pembroke, Lady Charles and Lord Robert Spencer, Lord Dunkellin, Lady Louisa Fitzpatrick, &c. At the close of one of those performances at Winterslow House (in January, 1774), in which Mr. Fox and another member of his family acted, a lamentable accident occurred, which destroyed the greater part of the mansion. Mrs. Harris writes of it next day as follows:—

'We got home in whole bones [an allusion apparently to the bad roads] soon after one, and in high spirits; but our joy is now turned to sorrow, for this morning, at five, a fire broke out in the new building at Winterslow House, and entirely consumed that and also the old house, except the kitchen and laundry. Though the house was full of company, fortunately no life was lost. The fire was discovered by some Salisbury chairmen, who, for want of a bed, were deposited on a carpet under the great stairs; they alarmed the house, and probably, thereby, saved some lives. Lady Pembroke, Lady Mary Fox and her children, were carried to King's House; Miss Herbert, Mrs. Hodges, and the other ladies stayed in the laundry; all the gentlemen stood by. As they had no engines, and little or no water but violent rain, they in a manner gave up all hopes of the house; but their object was to save the furniture, in which they have succeeded, though 'tis greatly damaged by dirt and rain. 'Tis thought, but not certain, that the fire was owing to some timber near a chimney in the new building. I think of the contrast: we left that house this morning between twelve and one, all mirth and jollity, and by seven it was consumed; it really hurts me when I think how many agreeable days I have spent in those rooms.

'Some say that, during the flames, Stephen and Charles Fox and Fitzpatrick got to a proper distance, and laid bets as to which beam would fall in first. The friends of the house, who resort to Almack's and White's, say they are sorry they were not at Winterslow that night, as "they might have had an opportunity of seeing the family in a new light. I could mention profane things uttered at the very time, but they are too bad."

Amateur dramatic and operatic performances were a frequent amusement at Mr. Harris's house in Salisbury. Miss Gertrude, the elder daughter, was an adept in such performances, and, moreover, retained this taste throughout the whole of her long life. This lady afterwards became the wife of Mr. Robinson, younger son of Lord Grantham. She lived, in the London world, to the age of eighty-five, preserving to the last her faculties and cheerful character. She used to give private theatricals at her house, in which Lord de Grey, Mr. F. Robinson, Hugh Elliott, and Canning were the chief actors—Canning writing the prologues and epilogues, which are still extant. In the letters we find frequent allusions to the performances in Mr. Harris's family residence; but we shall content ourselves with mentioning one of them, which aroused the satirical ire of some provincial Juvenal, whose poetic outburst serves to show the great, indeed too great, change between the notions on such subjects then and now. Mrs. Harris, in a letter to her son, thus alludes to a rehearsal of the piece, which a few days afterwards was performed, as usual, to an audience of the townsfolk and the visitors at the house:—

'I have but little to send from hence; we are so totally taken up with our own theatrical business that nothing else is thought of. The ladies acted last night in their dresses to all their servants, and a most crowded house they had. Although I was not admitted to the performance, I saw all the ladies. Their dresses are fine and elegant. Miss Townshend makes an excellent Spanish ambassador, a fine figure and richly dressed; she had a prodigious long sword, and not being accustomed to wear one, she contrived, as she walked, to run it up through a scene, and damaged it greatly. Louisa has taken a sword you left her [here?], and manages it right well. She is very fine in a purple Spanish dress, all the buttons Irish diamonds, a handsome button and loop to her hat, and your King of Spain's picture hanging from her neck. The Queen, Miss Hussey, was dressed in blue and silver, with a number of diamonds; Miss Wyndham, who is Elvira, in white, trimmed with pearls; Gertrude, the Princess, in a black Spanish dress, trimmed with red and silver, and a great quantity of diamonds; it becomes her much.

'Lord Pembroke [the tenth Earl] sent a note to your father, which was as follows:—"I can snuff candles, I can scrape on the violoncello; if either of these sciences will entitle me to a place in your theatre, I will perform gratis. P.S. My wife says she can thrum the harpsichord or viol-de-gamba."

'We have sent them and the Amesbury House tickets for Saturday. Everybody is making interest to get in. The ladies mean to perform five times, so I hope everybody will see it.'

The satirical verses which this lady performance called forth appeared in the Bath Journal (Nov. 17, 1774), entitled 'On the Ladies at the Close of Salisbury, now acting Elvira;' and Mrs. Harris opines that 'they were sent from some vinegar merchant in Salisbury who could not get admitted to the performance. The verses are as follows:—

If the anonymous 'vinegar merchant' could have been transported into the present time, how much more would he have been shocked by the 'change which time affords!' Could he now take a trip to London (so serious a matter a century ago, but made so quickly and cheaply now by means of a return ticket by rail), what would he think of the state of matters in our theatres? It was only in private theatricals that ladies donned the male costume a century ago, and they were always draped with the strictest propriety. But what do we see in London theatres now? Not only in the so-called 'burlesques' does the main 'fun,' such as it is, consist in the transposition of the sexes—men taking female characters, and women the part of males—but the costumes of the female performers, rich and picturesque as they usually are, are devised expressly to make a prodigal display of the person, a minimum of clothes apparently being the acme of perfection kept in view by the theatrical costumiers, and by the ladies themselves. The female figure is now so prodigally displayed that a handsome girl, especially if she has well-turned legs, is sought after on that account alone. 'My shape is my fortune, sir, she said!' would now be the burden of the song of these demi-nude demoiselles of the stage. To such a pitch has this new method of attracting audiences been carried, that this class of performances, or rather exhibitions, are now known in theatrical parlance as 'leg-pieces.' It is impossible not to see what a demoralising influence such performances must have upon the rising generation, indeed upon the whole audience. It is a lamentable sign of the times: it is a symptom of degeneration, of corruption, of a fatal laxity of manners. The relation between the sexes is becoming seriously deteriorated; and woman, instead of being peculiarly an object of respectful regard or chivalrous admiration, tends to become simply an object of pleasure, seeking to please at any cost. Most rightly did the Lord Chamberlain recently issue his fiat against the short skirts of the ballet-dancers: but the fiat has been vain, as all such injunctions in this 'free' country must be when public opinion refuses to support it, or at last allows itself to be overpowered by the crowd of playgoers who delight in such spectacles. A gangrene of selfish and demoralising pleasure is now eating into the heart of this country; and we fear the social malady will not be checked save by the advent of some terrible national calamity—let us hope not so terrible as that by which our neighbour France is now being purged as by fire.

Before quitting the lighter and gossipy items to be found in these letters, let us say a word or two about the rich Court costumes of the period. We need not speak of the dresses of the ladies; for although the fashion of those dresses has changed, indeed is ceaselessly changing, in richness and costliness female attire at the present time is quite on a par with what it was when George the Second was king. But a notable change has taken place in the full dress of the men. Probably only a minority of our readers can remember the time when colour disappeared from the evening costume of gentlemen: it is nearly forty years since coloured coats, with white or coloured silk or velvet waistcoats vanished from the private dinner-party and ball-room—though the taste for colour is now reviving. Warren, in Ten Thousand a Year, dresses his hero Gammon for the evening in blue coat with metal buttons, white waistcoat, and black trousers—and such was a quiet evening dress of that time. In the long interval since then, there has been a monotonous reign of simple black cloth. The change in the Court or gala dress has been still more striking. Apropos of this change, a philosophic writer has remarked, that whenever any class abandons its distinctive costume, it is a sign of decadence and coming extinction. There is some truth in the remark, but it is partial truth only. It ignores the fact that the peculiar source of distinction for each class, and especially with the nobility, who are or ought to be the leaders of the nation, varies from age to age with the spirit of the times. It might as well be said that our nobility verged on extinction three centuries ago, when they ceased to wear mail and to lead their retainers to the field. No doubt the French Revolution, with its levelling doctrines, and the principle of social equality (not new in this country), tended to abolish the 'bravery' of dress previously distinctive of the nobility; but the change was far more due to the gravity of the times, the sober spirit natural during a most critical period of the country, and of the economy rendered necessary throughout the community at large by the heavy costs of the great war with France. Indeed, the fact that a corresponding change took place in the gala dress of the middle classes serves to show that there was nothing exceptional or peculiar in the diminished finery of the aristocratic costume. All classes alike felt the sobering influence of the time, and then, as in all such cases, a corresponding change took place in costume.

Firstly, then, as to the gala costume of the Prince of Wales, afterwards George III., who certainly cannot be suspected of too great a devotion to fashion or the frivolities of dress. In a Drawing-room in St. James's in 1745, the Prince of Wales wore a light-blue velvet coat, laced with silver, and the sleeves of it brocade—as was also his waistcoat. On another occasion he 'had on a crimson damask laced with silver, very rich and handsome.' Again, the Countess of Shaftesbury, writing to her cousin, Mr. Harris, in December, 1754, 'enlivening her epistle with a detail of the birthday finery' at Court, says: 'The Prince of Wales looked as blooming as his clothes; they were a blossom-coloured velvet, with gold and lace down before; the waistcoat and cuffs a rich white-and-gold stuff. Prince Edward's was a yellow and silver velvet, with a silver lace before, turned up with white and silver cuffs, and the waistcoat the same.' She adds: 'My lord's clothes and mine were both admired. His was a very rich scarlet and gold velvet coat—waistcoat and breeches the same; and mine a gold stuff with purple spots on the ground, and coloured sprigs of flowers that looked like embroidery.' On a similar occasion, 'Lord Kildare was unexceptionably the finest of any gentleman there: his coat was a light-blue silk, embroidered all over with gold and silver in a very curious manner, turned up with white satin, embroidered as the other; the waistcoat the same as his sleeves.' His Majesty (George II.), however, by no means set the fashion in gala dress. Even at Drawing-rooms, we read, 'he dressed in his usual way, without aiming at finery of any sort;' his usual costume being a deep-blue cloth coat, trimmed with silver lace, and waistcoat the same. At another Birthday Drawing-room, 'the King was dressed in black velvet; the sleeves of his coat and his waistcoat were red, embroidered with gold.' The last time his Majesty's costume at Drawing-rooms is mentioned is in 1754, six years before his death, when we find the following curious statement, that 'his Majesty had told Mr. Shutz [the fashionable German tailor of the day] he would have him bespeak him a very handsome suit, but not to make a boy or a fop of him;' and as the result of this consultation with his tailor, his Majesty appeared in brown, very richly laced with silver, and turned up with a blue cuff laced, and a blue and silver waistcoat.' We read of 'very mortifying disasters' happening at some of these Birthday Drawing-rooms. On one such occasion, the Countess of Salisbury writes:—

'Miss Young, in making her curtsey to his Majesty, entangled the heel of her shoe [there were high heels in those days] in her train, so that she fell quite backwards, with her legs up. The laugh was so general that nobody thought of helping the poor young creature, until his Majesty, though as well diverted as the rest, said he would go himself; but, as you may imagine, was prevented. Lady Young was not in less confusion than her daughter.

'The second hustle was about Miss Corke, whose hoop, in climbing over the Foreigner's box, caught in such a manner that all her petticoats flew up, to the undermost flannel. Lady Arvon, in endeavouring to help her, was caught in the hoop, which pulled off her fine diamond sprig and head-dress.'

As might be expected, there were flirtations, runaway matches, and mésalliances in those days, as they are still. One of the beauties immortalized by the pencil of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and whose portrait is preserved at Holland House, gave rise to much gossip by marrying a 'player:'—

'The Court and assembly's talk yesterday was all of the match of Lady Susan Strangeways and O'Brien, the player. It is said she went out on Saturday with a servant, whom, under pretext of having forgotten something, she sent back, and said she would wait in the street till her return. O'Brien was waiting in a hackney coach, which she got into; and they went to Covent Garden Church, and were married. 'Tis a most surprising event, as Lady Susan was everything that was good and amiable; and how she ever got acquainted with this man is not to be accounted for. They say she sent him £200 a little time since. She is of age.'

Gretna Green, on the Scottish borders, although it has now relapsed into the obscurity natural to such a poor little hamlet (although it still gives name to a railway station), was a famous place in those days in connection with runaway matches; indeed, it was so even within the memory of the present generation. A century ago, we often read of lovers having 'gone to Scotland.' Among others—

'Lady Jane Tollemache, daughter to Lord Dysart, is gone to Scotland with a Captain Halliday of the Light Horse: his father is a man of fortune. The captain was just going to to be married to Miss Byron; the coach and clothes were bought; but he saw Lady Jane twice at the Richmond assembly, was captivated, wrote a letter to Miss Byron, to inform her he had changed his mind, and had set out for Scotland.' [The gay captain would have had to pay heavy damages for so cavalier a proceeding now-a-days.]

Whatever amount of what is commonly called 'scandal,' and which merits a worse name, there may have been in our aristocratic circles in the latter half of last century, there is but little trace of it to be found in these letters. But in one of Mrs. Harris's letters to her son, giving him the talk and gossip of the town, there is a mysterious-looking allusion to some such matrimonial scandal, which reads as follows:—'Lady S—— B—— is in lodgings at Knightsbridge. She says her husband [whom doubtless she had deserted] is a most angelic man; but her attachment for the other is so great, she must live with him.'

What was the 'Pantheon' in those days? Whatever else it was, it appears to have been a sort of assembly-rooms for balls and dances; and, though frequented by persons of rank and of the highest respectability, its doors were not impregnable against the entrance of 'soiled doves' and doubtful reputations—whose presence, however, was against the rules of the place, for, as the following embarrassing incident to one of Mrs. Harris's daughters shows, they were liable to be turned out. Mrs. Harris thus writes of it to her son:—

'Wednesday your two sisters, Molly Cambridge, and I, went to the Pantheon. It is undoubtedly the finest and most complete thing ever seen in England. Such mixture of company never assembled before under the same roof. Lord Mansfield, Mrs. Baddeley, Lord Chief Baron Parker, Mrs. Abbingdon, Sir James Porter, Madlle. Heinell, Lords Hyde and Camden, with many other serious men, and most of the gay ladies in town, and ladies of the best rank and character—and, by appearance, some very low people. Louisa is thought very like Mrs. Baddeley [one of the gay ladies]; and Gertrude and I had our doubts whether our characters might not suffer by walking with her [i.e., Louisa]; but had they offered to turn her out, we depended upon Mr. Hanger's protection. [George Hanger, of the Guards, was one of the great beaux of his day.] None of the fashion dance country-dances or minuets in the great room, though there were a number of minuets and a large set of dancers. I saw Miss Wilks dance a minuet; some young ladies danced cotillons in the cotillon gallery.... The spectacle at first strikes one greatly, but then it becomes stupid.'

The domain of personal incident crops up richly and interestingly throughout these volumes, and comes freshly and truthfully upon us in the correspondence of the hour. Whether we read of Lady ——, who ran away with her footman John, and sent back her fine clothes, 'because she would no longer have any need for them;' or of the deep gambling and other queer affairs of Charles Fox in his dissipated youth; or of the sayings and doings of the notorious Wilkes, who so shocked society, or of his duel, in which he bore himself so honourably, the epistolary narrative is full of naïveté and interest. The second marriage of Lord Coventry (whose first wife was the elder of the beautiful Miss Gunnings) must have been what is now called 'good fun.' The marriage party was all assembled in stately magnificence; but his Grace of Canterbury was from home, and the licence did not arrive! But the party was equal to the emergency—'so it was agreed that they should eat the dinner, rather than it should be spoiled. So to dinner they went [at the early hour then in fashion], and sat all the afternoon, dressed in their white and silver, expecting every moment the express from Lambeth, but nothing came. The same reason held good for eating a supper as for eating the dinner; and in short they supped and sat till after two, and then, by mutual consent, dismissed the parson, and all retired.' Two hours afterwards (4 a.m.) the express with the licence arrived, and the ceremony went off with due éclat in the forenoon. We may remark that it is comforting to find in these letters of the day a guarantee for the genuineness of many of the excellent bonmots and repartees which have taken their place in our anecdotical literature in connection with the more or less famous men of that period, and which sparkle pleasantly across the pages of these volumes.

But quitting the domain of purely personal incident, let us glance at some passages in the letters which throw curious light upon the England of our forefathers in the latter half of the eighteenth century. Here is a picture of Cambridgeshire which looks strange now, and which indeed startled the writer thereof, Mrs. Harris, when she and her husband went on a visit to their friend the Dean of Sarum's parsonage in that locality. She says that the country is the most disagreeable she ever saw; and talking of the Fens, says that the herds of cattle which feed on them in the summer months are up to their bellies in water even in the dry season:—

'The natives dry the cowdung for firing in the winter; so 'tis kept in heaps about the fields, as is also the dung of their yards; so when you walk, the stink is inconceivable. Mr. Harris took a ride to survey these fens, and he says nothing can be so detestable. He talked with the natives, who told him that during the winter the water was constantly above the ancles in their houses.'

'The Dean's parsonage is surrounded with fens, and you are teased beyond expression by the gnats. When we got here, the Dean's butler came to your father with a pair of leather stockings [the dress of that day was breeches and silk stockings] to draw on so as to protect his legs, which in hot weather [it was the month of June] is dreadful. Besides this, the beds have a machine covered with a silk net, which lets down after you are in bed, and covers you all over. Without this, there could be no sleeping; for, notwithstanding these precautions, we were most miserably stung.'

Were anyone to light upon this passage in an isolated form nowadays, he would conclude without hesitation that it was an extract from some Indian diary—the use of the word 'natives' completing the resemblance. Here we have the Indian plague of mosquitoes existing in full severity in England, and also the use of mosquito-nets around the beds at night, exactly as in India. Nay, there is still another point of resemblance—namely, in the use which the Cambridgeshire 'natives' made of the cow-dung: drying and using it as fuel, as is the common practice of the natives of our Eastern Empire.

In the letters which relate to the events of the Rebellion of 1745, and the march of the rebels into the heart of England, we have ample proof alike of the general ignorance of places now well known to every one, and of a want of the means of information in regard even to the great events taking place in other parts of the kingdom, which read strangely in these times when every morning we can know from the newspapers the very way the wind is blowing in every quarter of our island. The Highland army marches to and fro in its daring enterprise, although several separate armies (Wade's, Ligonier's, the Duke of Cumberland's, &c.) are on foot to meet or catch them: indeed, as we read in these letters, 'more troops are in England than ever was known before,' yet notwithstanding, the hardy light-moving Highlanders get through them all into the heart of England, and quite as easily back again. We cannot help thinking that the English generals had not much stomach for their work. They were astonished and something more by the sudden and total rout of Sir John Cope's army, and by the daring and marvellous rapidity of the rebels' march; and it must be allowed that even in their retreat, the Highlanders gave a good account of any force that tried to bar their passage. As the noble editor incidentally observes, General Wade (who was posted in the north of England to stop the southward march of the rebels) only became famous after the rebellion was over; and his marching and counter-marching to catch the rebels was of a very helpless character indeed.

Smuggling, as well as rebellion, profited greatly by the roadless character of England in those days. Mr. and Mrs. Harris, on returning home one night from Heron Court, then the property of their friend Mr. Hooper, had great difficulty in getting over Ringwood Heath, an adjoining waste land, about five miles in length—'the vile heath,' as Mrs. Harris calls it—even with 'the assistance of two servants riding before.' Heron Court now belongs to the Malmesbury family; and the editor, in a foot-note, states that until the beginning of the present century there were no roads but smugglers' tracks across those heaths. They were a favourite place for contraband transit from the south coast; and he mentions that all classes aided in carrying on this traffic. 'The farmers lent their teams and labourers, and the gentry openly connived at the practice, and dealt with the smugglers. The cargoes, chiefly of brandy, were easily concealed in the furze bushes, that extended from Ringwood to Poole, and in the New Forest for thirty miles.' We suspect that the impossibility of carrying on such operations nowadays has had much more to do with their cessation than the improvement in the morality of the age. Look at the customary frauds in making returns to the income-tax, and then say whether the middle-classes are a whit more honest in fiscal matters now than they used to be when smuggling was rife.

How vastly London has changed and grown since the last century need not be said, and the contrast between then and now, meets one almost in every page of these lively letters. There was no Rotten-row, or the fashionable rides in the Park, which make so gay a sight now in the summer afternoons; and the whole district north of the Park knew nothing of the noble streets and terraces which now occupy the space. Mrs. Harris speaks with delight, almost rapture, of the sweet rural beauty of a 'ride to Paddington of a July morning.' But with all our knowledge of the change which has come over the British metropolis since that time, it is startling to find that some nameless Dick Turpin or Claude Duval could ply his trade with impunity even within the courtly precincts of St. James's. In February, 1773, Mrs. Harris writes that 'a most audacious fellow robbed Sir Francis Holburne and his sisters in their coach, in St. James's Square, coming from the Opera. He was on horseback, and held a pistol close to the breast of one of the Miss Holburnes for a considerable time. She had left her purse at home—which he would not believe. He has since robbed a coach in Park Lane.' In these letters, too, there is the earliest mention which we have met with of the tiny member of the finny tribe which now confers a greater popular renown upon Greenwich than even its world-famous Observatory or its magnificent Hospital, and which for a generation has caused that place to be the honoured scene of the annual Ministerial banquet at which our rulers meet together to congratulate one another upon the approaching close of the Parliamentary session,—the famous 'whitebait dinner,' which within the last two years has fallen into abeyance, perhaps never to be revived. Mr. Harris, the founder of the family and father of the first Earl Malmesbury, was then (1763) a Lord of the Admiralty; and Mrs. Harris describes a 'most agreeable expedition on the Thames,' which she had with a party in the 'Admiralty barge.' After seeing Woolwich and all its military wonders, the lady says:—

'We got back to Greenwich to dine. We had the smallest fish I ever saw, called whitebait: they are only to be eat at Greenwich, and are held in high estimation by the epicures; they are not so large as the smallest of minnows, but are really very good eating. We dined in a charming place in the open air, which commanded a fine view of the Thames; but were obliged to leave it at six o'clock, as the tide was so cruel as not to stay for us—and they never venture to shoot the bridge [old London bridge] with the Admiralty barge at low water. We had a beastly walk through the Borough after we landed.'

Let us now quit old England for a moment to take a passing glance at the Continent. As we have already said, the 'Diaries and Correspondence' of the first Earl of Malmesbury are a rich mine of political information and personal anecdote concerning the leading Courts of Europe; but we must here confine our few gleanings of this kind from the newly published 'Letters,' and content ourselves with some sketches of the state of matters in France, in the period of decay and rottenness which preceded the outburst of the terrible but life-reviving Revolution. Young Mr. Harris (afterwards the first Earl), then only in his twenty-second year, is passing through Paris in November, 1768, on his way to assume a diplomatic post at Madrid, and thus he writes of the French capital:—

'I see no new improvements since I was last here; and, except a few new fashions for caps and muffs, I believe nothing has changed materially. On such subjects alone do this lively people exercise their inventive faculties, since the decease of Louis le Grand. They have now no capital painters, few good sculptors, and still fewer good authors; for the modern set of French writers are either totally devoid of talents, or else employ them in such a manner, and on such subjects, as to render their works of very little use to the community. To pass for an esprit fort is all their ambition; and when a man has written down all religions, without distinction, they cry, "Pardi! c'est un grand homme: il pense hardiment!"'

Turning from fashion and infidelity, the young diplomatist in another letter describes the political aspect of affairs; remarking, inter alia, that the Government 'are now expending the revenues of the year 1771 [three years in advance!] at the same time that the people are labouring under the greatest necessity; garden stuff and bread, the chief nourishment of the lower class in this country, being raised in price one-third since last winter, and the greatest appearance also that there will not be a sufficient quantity of either to supply the winter.' But Court life and pageantry went on quand même. Seven years later, a Dr. Jean takes up the correspondence from Paris. Speaking of the Anglomania then prevalent, and which mingled with the Court gaieties, he writes that the 'young Queen' (Marie Antoinette) has made herself unpopular by 'a little misunderstanding in etiquette' between her and the princes of the blood, and also by her great predilection for everything that is English. And he describes a horse race, 'which is now become a very frequent and frequented amusement.' Most of the cavaliers in the concourse were 'badly imitating the English mode of riding;' also 'ladies of fashion, clad in boots and leather breeches, astride on their horses!' The Queen, with all her court, were upon the stand at the starting post; and the race was 'managed by English grooms (jackés as they call them) and English horses.' The same correspondent also gives a description of a bal paré in 'the most decorated room perhaps in the world,' the Opera House at Versailles. He says that Lord Clive, who was present, 'declared that Asiatic display of riches appeared but as tinsel to the brilliancy of the French court on that occasion.' 'The room,' says Dr. Jean 'was filled by between three and four thousand people, dressed in the richest, and at the same time the most fancied, taste imaginable. The show which French ladies always make above those of other nations added much to the spectacle. The ornaments of their head-dress, and their robes, so disposed and varied, composed a most beautiful tout ensemble. In regard to their persons, to be sure, they seemed to be almost all of the same family, from the similarity of their complexions, and the unity of their dress. It appeared to me an assembly of houris.' He describes the Queen as 'very majestic, and at a distance very handsome,' also with a remarkably fine hand and arm; and he adds that she gives life to almost all public amusements, and 'is very familiar with those who are in favour,'—an amiable though perhaps not dignified trait which brought her sad woe in the end, in consequence of the calumnies set on foot against her by her base and contemptible relative, the Duke of Orleans, Philippe Egalité.

A romantic incident connected with the French Revolution happened to Lord Malmesbury in 1793, when the French nobility and clergy were flying from the sanguinary proscriptions of the Reign of Terror. He was walking one day on the pier at Brighton (not then the scene of gaiety and fashion which it is now), when a French fishing-boat approached the pier, and one of the crew jumped out with a baby in his arms, and addressed him. The poor fisherman said that a lady, known and beloved by himself and his comrades, had thrown the baby into their boat, entreating them to save its life by carrying it to England, whither, she said, if she were spared, she would follow it. They had accordingly stood over for Brighton, to entrust the infant, as the lady desired, to the first Englishman they met. Lord Malmesbury at once took charge of the helpless little exile, and had it conveyed to Lady Malmesbury at his house. In a few weeks, the mother, after many hair-breadth escapes, found her way to England, and knowing where the child had been landed, soon discovered its place of refuge. The baby became a handsome and fascinating woman, and, as Madame Alfred de Noailles, was for many years a leader of fashion in the first circles of Paris. When Lady Malmesbury was at Paris in 1816, we find her writing of Madame Alfred as 'our daughter;' and his quondam protégé, in all her letters to Lord Malmesbury, used to sign herself 'Leontine Harris.'

Although tempted to linger longer over these interesting letters, our narrowing limits warn us that we must leave untrod a large portion of the field which they present, alike for gossiping and for sage historical reflection. But ere we close, we must say a few words as to the leading members of the family whose correspondence has now been given to the world. Of Mr. James Harris, who, though not himself ennobled, may justly be regarded as the founder of the Malmesbury family, we have already spoken. He was a literary man of fine tastes, a member of Parliament, and a subordinate member of several Administrations. He does not appear to have had the brilliant abilities of his son, the first Earl; but he had a pleasant and healthy temperament, a perfect rectitude of nature, and a sound sagacity, which qualities have since been hereditary in the family. There are only a few letters of his in this collection, but in almost every one of these, brief though they are, there is some remark or other which shows his shrewd and healthy common sense, whether in great matters or little ones. When a motion was made in the House (1770), to restrain revenue officers from voting at elections (a disfranchisement only recently removed), Mr. Harris writes that it was 'a rather tedious debate, full of that patriotic commonplace which nobody believes that talks it, nor anyone else but a few dupes in the provinces.' When we were on the eve of war with Spain, in 1770, about the Falkland Islands, he writes:—'It moves me to indignation that two respectable nations, naturally made for friends, should take to cutting one another's throats for a paltry island, not better than Bagshot Heath, and which if it were merged in the ocean, would be no loss to either. Let it be with nations as with individuals: if ye can help it, don't quarrel at all—'tis more conformant to your social nature; but if ye must quarrel, for heaven's sake let it not be for trifles, for objects of the lowest contempt.' But when this Spanish difficulty was happily got over, to the general satisfaction of the country, which, he says, 'does not wish a war, whatever wicked patriots may endeavour;' he adds, 'None make such audacious use of the word people as these do—a word which often means no more than themselves, and their ignorant or interested followers.'

His son, the first Earl of Malmesbury, was perhaps the ablest diplomatist whom England has produced; certainly he was second to none in the long roll of distinguished men who have served the State as ambassadors and ministers in foreign countries. There is an anecdote of his boyhood, narrated by his relative Lord Shaftesbury, which perhaps may be taken as an indication of the courage and self-reliance which the youth was afterwards to display in a very different form. As his mother was walking one day with some friends before her house in the Close at Salisbury, she descried some one climbing up the spire of the cathedral; and having obtained a glass the better to observe so perilous a feat, she immediately dropped it, exclaiming, 'Good heavens! it is James!' The astonished lady had discovered her only son upon the apex of the tallest steeple in Great Britain. Of his life at Oxford, he himself (taking a retrospect in 1800) gives a poor account, either as regards learning or amusements. He says that the set of men with whom he lived were very pleasant, but very idle fellows. 'Our life was an imitation of high life in London: luckily, drinking was not the fashion; but what we did drink was claret, and we had our regular round of evening card parties, to the great annoyance of our finances. It has often been a matter of surprise to me how so many of us [Charles Fox, Lord Auckland, Bishop North, and others] made our way so well in the world, and so creditably.' From Oxford he went to the University of Leyden; and as he became a favourite with our Minister at the Hague, young Harris had ample opportunities of mingling in the court life, and also of studying carefully the political affairs of Holland—a knowledge which he was afterwards destined to turn to most valuable account. In the following year (1767) he made a journey to Prussia, Poland, and Paris; and in 1768, although only in his twenty-second year, he was appointed secretary of embassy at the Court of Madrid. In this post, an opportunity arising, the youth greatly distinguished himself; for, having been temporarily left chargé d'affaires, he undertook upon his own responsibility the critical affair of the Falkland Islands, which he conducted so admirably as to win the praise of both political parties at home; and the issue, so honourable to England, at once established his diplomatic reputation, and obtained for him in the following year the post of Minister at Berlin, where Frederick the Great, although past his prime, reigned in the full vigour of his tyrannical and eccentric genius. Next, after a few months in England in 1776, when he married, he was sent to St. Petersburg as our minister at the Court of the Empress Catherine, whose shameless passion for 'favourites' affected even her policy, and where he had a hard battle to fight, owing to the Empress's ill-will to England, although his esprit and remarkable conversational talents made him personally much more liked by the Empress than any of his diplomatic rivals. It appears to have been a costly office, and diplomatic salaries at that time were so inadequate that on leaving Russia he had diminished his private fortune to the extent of £20,000.

The severe climate of Russia broke down his health, and he returned to England in 1782, having previously received from the King the Order of the Bath, in acknowledgement of his services at the Russian Court. But two years afterwards he was despatched to the Hague, at that moment the scene of the most active political operations and manoeuvres; the Stadtholder being then threatened with deposition, and Holland with subjection to France. In this emergency, Sir James Harris matured a bold plan of an Anglo-Prussian alliance and an intervention on behalf of Holland; a project which Mirabeau, the French agent at Berlin, when he got wind of it, scouted as absurd, et seulement la conception personelle de cet audacieux et rusé Harris, but which completely succeeded—freeing Holland from her peril, and winning high fame for its bold projector, who was created Baron Malmesbury, and received honours from the King of Prussia and the Stadtholder. Lord Malmesbury now enjoyed the almost unbounded confidence of his Government in all matters relating to foreign politics, and was entrusted with all the most important missions. In 1793, he was sent to Berlin, and in 1796 and again in the following year he was sent to France to endeavour to negotiate a peace with the French Directory. We cannot do more than simply mention those important missions; but we cannot refrain from noticing a mission of a very different kind which befel him in 1794, when he received orders 'to ask of the Duke of Brunswick his daughter in marriage for the Prince of Wales.' Lord Malmesbury had little hope of this union turning out well, but he had no discretionary power in the matter, so he married her Royal Highness by proxy, and brought her over to England. The Prince of Wales never forgave Lord Malmesbury for his share in this affair, which was certainly hard upon his Lordship, especially as he had no end of difficulties with the German princess, as well as with some of the ladies of the Court, who had reasons of their own for hating Prince George's fiancée. Here is his Lordship's account of the first interview between the Princess and her royal betrothed:—

'I, according to the established etiquette, introduced (no one else being in the room) the Princess Caroline to him. She very properly, in consequence of my saying to her it was the right mode of proceeding, attempted to kneel to him. He raised her (gracefully enough), and embraced her, said barely one word, turned round, retired to a distant part of the apartment, and calling me to him said, "Harris, I am not well, pray get me a glass of brandy." I said, "Sir, had you not better have a glass of water?" upon which he, much out of humour, said with an oath, "No!" and away he went. The Princess, left during the short moment alone, was in a state of astonishment, and on my joining her said, "Mon Dieu! est-ce que le Prince est toujours comme cela? Je le trouve très gros, et nullement aussi beau que son portrait." I said His Royal Highness was naturally a good deal affected and flurried at this first interview, but she certainly would find him different at dinner.

'At dinner I was far from satisfied with the Princess's behaviour; it was flippant, rattling, affected raillery and wit, and throwing out coarse vulgar hints about Lady ——, who was present, and, though mute, le diable n'en perdait rien. The Prince was evidently disgusted. And this unfortunate dinner fixed his dislike, which, when, left to herself, the Princess had not the talent to remove, but, by still observing the same giddy manners and attempts at cleverness and coarse sarcasm, increased it till it became positive hatred.'

Soon after the Earl's last diplomatic mission to France, in 1797, he was seriously attacked by deafness, in consequence of which infirmity he thought it right to decline all further State employment either in the Cabinet or abroad; but during the lives of Mr. Pitt and the Duke of Portland, he remained in the most intimate political confidence of those Ministers and their principal colleagues. Indeed, during the greater part of the war with Napoleon, every scrap of important news received at the Foreign Office appears to have been forwarded to him; and in 1814 he was consulted by Lord Liverpool's Government on the readjustment of Europe, and the arrangements relating to Holland, Belgium, Luxembourg, and Prussia, were principally suggested and settled by him. During the closing years of his life (he died in 1820, at the age of seventy-five), he passed most of his time in London and at Parkplace, his seat near Henley, receiving at his house constantly, and with the same pleasure, the rising generation of statesmen and literary men, as he had shown formerly in associating with his own distinguished contemporaries. He early appreciated the high talents of Mr. Canning, Lord Grenville, and Lord Palmerston, and used his influence with the statesmen of the time to draw special attention to those illustrious men who have now become memorable in English history. He was the guardian of Lord Palmerston, and by his influence obtained for him his first official appointment.

Two portraits of the Earl are given in these volumes: one taken in the early part of his career when he was simple Mr. Harris, the other when he was full of years and honours, at the age of seventy. Both are handsome faces, but though the first has the advantage of youth, with a look of esprit and lively courage, the second is really the finer and nobler head—a phenomenon only observable in rare cases, where high intellect is united with goodness of heart and a well-balanced temperament. His grandson, who edits these works, and who—in consonance with the principles of life so wisely and admirably laid down by the first Earl, with special reference to the nobility, but whose beautiful precepts are applicable to all spheres of life—has devoted himself from youth to the public service, and has twice been the Foreign Minister of England, appends some true remarks as to the difference in the work and responsibilities of diplomatists which has been created by the progress of civilization and the great change in the political condition of the nations of Europe. But the result of those changes has been to lessen the responsibility and lighten the labour of our Ministers abroad, and the contrast serves only to heighten the well-won reputation of the diplomatist whose 'Letters and Correspondence' have supplied materials for this article. The cynical but pre-eminently sagacious Talleyrand, speaking simply of Lord Malmesbury's intellectual powers and knowledge of human nature, apart from those high personal qualities by which he was distinguished, said, Je crois que Lord Malmesbury était le plus habile Ministre que vous aviez de son temps. C'était inutile de le devancer, il fallait le suivre de près. Si on lui laissait le dernier mot, il avait toujours raison. And as is shown alike by his official career, and by his private correspondence, we may well apply to the first Lord Malmesbury the epithet by which M. Thiers has so truly characterized Mr. Pitt—'ce pur Anglais.'

Art. IV.—The Explorations in Palestine. Publications of the Palestine Exploration Fund, viz.—

(1.) Report of Preliminary Meeting, 1865.

(2.) Captain Wilson's Expedition, 1866.

(3.) Meeting at Cambridge, 1867.

(4.) Annual Meeting, with Lieutenant Warren's Report, 1868.

(5.) Statement of Progress, January 1st, 1869.

(6.) Lieutenant Warren's Letters and Reports, with Lithographed Plans.

(7.) Lieutenant Warren's Notes on the Valley of the Jordan, and Excavations at Ain es Sultan (Jericho.)

(8.) Dean Stanley's Sermon on the Exploration of Palestine.

(9—15.) Quarterly Statements I. to VII., April, 1869, to October, 1870.

(16.) The Recovery of Jerusalem. Edited by the Honorary Officers of the Palestine Exploration Fund. With Fifty Illustrations. Richard Bentley.

The Palestine Exploration Society was established in 1865, for the accurate and systematic investigation of the archeology, topography, geology, physical geography, and manners and customs of the Holy Land, for Biblical illustration. The universality of interest belonging to Palestine, and the inefficiency of individual efforts at exploration, made the step advisable; while the success of the Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem in 1864 at once suggested the scheme and gave encouragement to its promoters. In the original prospectus of the Society it was proposed to excavate at Jerusalem for the purpose of ascertaining the extent of the Temple enclosure, the position of the tombs of the kings, the site of the Tower of Antonia, &c; to examine other important sites, such as Gerizim, Samaria, Jiljilieh (probably Gilgal) and the mounds at Jericho; to collect materials for a work on manners and customs comparable to Mr. Lane's 'Modern Egyptians;' to effect an accurate survey of the Holy Land; to determine levels and sites and the course of ancient roads; to investigate the geology of the country, especially in the Valley of Jordan and basin of the Dead Sea; and lastly, to apply the same energy and ability to the study of the botany, zoology, and meteorology of Palestine, which naturalists have given to those of the forests of South America and the rivers of Africa. The time is come when we may ask how much of this programme has been carried out, and what amount of light, if any, is being thrown on the Scriptural history. Three years ago, we touched upon the subject;[10] but the Society was then in its infancy, its work only just begun, and the publication of results confined to one or two small pamphlets. We now have at least enough reports to make a thick octavo volume, and these so packed with technical details that they will have to be spread out into three volumes more before their information can be grasped by the ordinary reader. We have, moreover, now before us the book called the 'Recovery of Jerusalem,' which is partly such an expansion and partly a comment on the work, with a trifle of new material.

The active work of the Society commenced in December, 1865, when Captain Wilson, E.E., and Lieutenant Anderson, E.E., with Corporal Phillips, as photographer, landed at Beyrout, to probe the country from north to south. Captain Wilson was the intelligent officer who had surveyed Jerusalem the previous year, and given us a map of that city, as accurate and reliable in every particular as any map to be had to-day of the city of London. This first expedition, in the course of six months, traversed Palestine from Damascus to Hebron, constructing a series of maps of the entire backbone of the country, excavating at Tel Salhiyeh (near Damascus), at Kedes (Kadesh Naphtali), and Mount Gerizim; examining remains of ancient synagogues, copying old inscriptions, collecting materials for about fifty plans, with detailed drawings of churches, synagogues, mosques, temples, and tombs, and tracing the ancient system of irrigation of the Plain of Gennesareth. The report of this tentative expedition was in favour of Jerusalem as the headquarters of any future exploring party, since that city promised to prove the greatest mine of discoveries, and to yield the quickest results. Accordingly, in November, 1866, we find Lieutenant Warren, R.E., at work in Palestine, at first with only Sergeant Birtles for his assistant, but afterwards with several corporals as well, and with permission to engage a number of native labourers, according to the amount of excavation going on. Lieutenant Warren spent two months in survey-work east and west of Jordan, and then concentrated his energies on Jerusalem, where he laboured at shafts and galleries almost incessantly, till he was invalided home, in May of the year 1870.

Although the operations at Jerusalem, besides being the more extensive, are also the more interesting in character, it may be well to look, first, at the results of Captain Wilson's expedition, and in connection with that officer's work, to consider the later labours of Warren, where they are of the same kind. First, with regard to the survey-work: it is marvellous that we have never yet had a decently correct map of the land in which all Christians are so much interested. The Admiralty have given us correct charts of the coast-line, but in the interior of the country hundreds of sites remain to be verified, and hundreds to be discovered; while the east of Jordan is almost a terra incognita, and the maps of it scarcely more than creations of the fancy. It is as though in England we were acquainted with but the line of the Great Northern Railway and the towns within a little distance of it on either side, and in Wales knew only the position of three or four of the principal towns. The Wilson exploring party fixed for the first time the exact latitude and longitude of nearly seventy places between Damascus and Jerusalem, determined many sites, ascertained heights, and recorded the features of the ground along which they passed. Lieutenant Warren has obtained the latitude and longitude of many scores of places, fixed the height of some hundreds, and surveyed so much ground that the committee are able to announce the map of Palestine, on the scale of one inch to the mile, as 'now approaching completion.' Much of this work was done in the dangerous country east of Jordan, where life is not safe without an escort, and the sheikh who bargains to protect you is ready to sell you to the next chieftain who thinks your friends can pay a ransom.

Connected with the surveying is the settlement of topographical questions. We have seen an old book which professed to give the latitude and longitude of every place visited by the Scriptural kings, prophets and apostles, with their relative positions and distances from one another in miles. Such information, if reliable, would be of great value, for there is so close a connection between history and geography that in some cases the first cannot be understood without a knowledge of the second; and in most cases the geographical or topographical knowledge will at least assist us to realise the history.

In this department our knowledge is still scanty, though good service has been rendered by the explorers. The site of Capernaum, which has been fixed in three different places by Egmont, Robinson, and De Saulcy, and which Dean Stanley regarded as utterly lost, has been fixed by Wilson with very small chance of error, where Sœwulf placed it in the beginning of the twelfth century, viz., at Tel Hum,[11] on the north-western corner of the lake. The determining circumstance was the discovery of the irrigation of the plain of Gennesareth, as described by Josephus,[12] and its connection with the Tabighah Fountain, whereas attention had previously been fixed on the Round Fountain. It is confirmatory of Wilson's view, that while at the Round Fountain there are no ruins, except some small foundations which may have been anything, Tel Hum possesses extensive ruins, including those of a synagogue. Two miles north of Tel Hum—at Kerazeh, a spot indicated by the Rev. G. Williams, in 1842, and indeed by Pococke, as early as 1740—Lieutenant Anderson identified Chorazin, by the presence of extensive remains, including those of a synagogue. Of no less interest is the discovery of the scene of the destruction of the herd of swine. Lord Lindsay, Mr. Elliott, and others had been on the eastern shores of the lake, but their accounts were mutually contradictory; and Dean Stanley, after rewriting his note on the place again and again, had been obliged to scratch it out altogether. It now appears that there is only one place—namely, Khersa, about half way between Wady Fîk and Wady Semakh—which fulfils all the conditions required by the Biblical narrative. The hills which everywhere else on the eastern side receded from a half to three-quarters of a mile from the water's edge, here approach within forty feet of it; not, indeed, terminating abruptly, but presenting a steep, even slope. The 'Dictionary of the Bible' places the scene at Gadara, now Um Keis, a place from which the swine would have had a hard gallop of two hours before reaching the lake.

We have also in these publications an admirable paper by Captain Wilson, 'On the site of Ai and the position of the Altar which Abram built between Bethel and Ai;' and another by the Rev. Dr. Zeller, Protestant clergyman at Nazareth, on 'Kefr Kenna.' As the old Hebrew names of places commonly cling to the spot under some Arabic disguise—the hill of Dan, for instance, being now Tel el-Kadi (both Kadi in Arabic, and Dan in Hebrew, being equivalent to 'judge' in English)—it is doing good service to collect Arabic names. Great care, however, is needed in this work, for the same wady may have different names in different parts; two or three hills, a fountain, and several ruins may all have one name—that of the district; and the traveller may misunderstand the Arabic answers to his questions. Mr. Layard tells a story of a traveller, who published, for the benefit of those who might follow in his footsteps, a little vocabulary, but whose own ignorance of the language is shown by the fact that several places on his map are marked with the word Mabarafsh. The fact was, that when the traveller asked his guide the name of a place the man answered Mabarafsh—'I don't know,' and down went this name on the map. In the same traveller's vocabulary 'nose' is put down as snuff; for when he wanted the word for nose he had probably raised his hand, and the Arab supposed he wanted 'snuff.' Under these circumstances, it must have been very satisfactory to Lieutenant Warren, after making a list of 150 places visited or seen on the east of Jordan, to find that wherever Robinson had been before him there was substantial agreement in the spelling. Lieutenant Warren and Dr. Chaplin, of Jerusalem, also obtained many names in the course of a tour from Jisr Damieh to Jisr Mejamia and back; and the former has given us a list of thirty-four Tels in the Jordan valley. More work of the same kind will have to be done, as there is much confusion in the spelling of names; besides which there exist many unnamed cities and ruins on both sides of the Jordan. South of Ammân (the ancient Rabbath-Amman, and afterwards Philadelphia, 2 Sam. xi. and xii.), Lieutenant Warren came upon a piece of elevated country, about four miles square, literally covered with ruins of temples and houses.