they would by nightfall have so far reduced | brains to discover whether Miss A. knew Mr. their muscular force as to be able to adopt B., and whether Miss C. would like to meet in the ball-room a more quiet and matronly Captain D. To ask a young lady without deportment. At all events, we should be spared the ludicrous exhibition of married women, nearing their grand climacteric, venturing to disport themselves on the anything but light fantastic, toe. It would be absurd to speak of self-respect to the woman who, being the mother of daughters "out," can permit a foppish stripling, young enough to be her son, to whisk her off her legs in a fast and furious galop. Such a spectacle produces on a bystander the impression that a law of nature is being actually contravened before his very eyes. One would be glad to believe that her physician had prescribed rapid and exhilarating motion for the benefit of her health. But, alas, there is no such excuse. She is only an extreme instance of the license conceded by the fashion of the day to wives. She could not play these antics if society frowned on them. It is because married women have been allowed to set up an impudent, but successful, claim to all the privileges of young ladies, in addition to those of wives, that matrons of middle age are to be seen waltzing with all the ardor of a debutante, and mothers are not ashamed to stand up in the same set of Lancers as their daughters with the younger and handsomer partner of the two.

providing a beau for her was considered very much like obtaining her company on false pretences. In short, to take care of the young ladies, and to let the married women take care of themselves, was the principle kept steadily in view in dispensing country house hospitalities. Now it is altogether discarded. A hostess who wants her party to go off well thinks only of getting as many pretty, well-dressed, and fashionable young married women as she can muster, not overburdened with any exuberant fondness for their husbands, with whom they are on the footing so well described by Millamant in The Way of the World—"as strange as if they had been married a great while, and as wellbred as if they had never been married at all." They come down and settle like a blight on the budding hopes and nascent flirtations of spinsterhood. They have every advantage on their side-beauty, wealth, knowledge of the world, a semi-independent position. Against such a combination, no young lady can stand. One by one, her fickle admirers desert her standard, and pass over to the enemy. In vain does she display her many and varied accomplishments. No one cares to look at her sketch-book, and just as she is beginning to deliver herself of an impassioned The same sort of wife-errantry, which is bravura from Didone Abbandonata, all the at its height in town in the summer, has be- world slips away to play croquet with one or come a periodical feature of the English coun- other of the piquant brides of last year. try house. In inviting an autumnal party From first to last, the married women monopof friends, there was no point which the mis-olize the attention of the male portion of the tress of the hall or park used to revolve more circle. The eye is ravished with the exquisite anxiously than the ways and means for making their stay agreeable to her young lady visitors. About the married women she took no thought they would, of course, be wrapped up in their husbands. The soul of young maternity would overflow with sympathy and delight at the sight of her wellappointed nurseries, and would never weary of their inspection. What with children and servants and governesses to gossip about, the matrons, young or old, could never lack amusement. But with the young ladies it was different. They were more difficult to please, and only to be satisfied in one way by the society of a certain number of agreeable young gentlemen. Before filling her house, therefore, the hostess had to rack her

taste and variety of their dresses. What they wore yesterday, and what they will wear to-morrow, are topics of absorbing interest to the whole household. How their hair is done, is a problem which baffles the united ingenuity of both sexes. As nothing else is talked about, so no one's pleasure is consulted but the young matron's. And her pleasure is to flirt. Flirting, in all its branches, is the only thing she understands or cares for. She must have an outer circle of handsome young men to dance attendance upon her. In the park, or at a flower show, or a fancy fair for the Irremediables, she would be content upon an average with fifteen. In her box at the opera, or at a private ball, five or six of her special favorites would suffice. Such are

the modest requirements of the fashionable | yet be arrested? If the mischievous examwives of the present day. In the entertaining ple which a few empty-headed and frivolous scene in the comedy from which we have al- leaders of fashion are setting is to be extenready quoted, the heroine is represented as sively followed, it would be better at once to stating the conditions on which alone she will adopt the French system outright. Let us consent to marry. She is to wear what she have its good as well as its evil. Let our pleases, to have her own friends, to remain young ladies be kept in strict retirement, un"sole empress of her tea-table." The Milla- til marriage gives the signal for quitting it mants of the present day would certainly go forever. At all events, a long period would on to stipulate, like a dissipated housemaid, thus be secured for improving the mind and for an unlimited number of "followers." cultivating the habit of occupation. At presSo much more strait-laced and decorus is the ent, we seem to be combining what is vicious age in which we live than that in which the in both the English and the French etiquette prudish Mr. Congreve wrote. for women. With us, they emerge from the hands of the governess far too soon and turn to the real duties and responsibilities of married life far too late.

Is it too late to hope that the tendency to relax the safeguards with which in England married life has been hitherto environed, may

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Ir has now become rather a common custom | to take the trouble of verifying the extracts, to for publishers, in sending about to the press see that they did represent the cheese? copies of popular new books, to send also separately-printed sheets of healed extracts or titbits from these books, fit for quotation. newspaper, receiving such a printed sheet, may, THE subjoined document, which we have transwithout taking the trouble to have the book it- ted as literally as possible out of its original self read, or even dipped into, clip out one of Latin, was issued a few days ago by the academthe tit-bits so marked and labelled by the pub-ical authorities of Jena :-"We have, indeed, lisher, and reprint it in its columns. We ob- heard before that those cannibals who in lands serve that some of the most respectable magazines of barbarism hunt black men like voracious have recently adopted this custom-sending round beasts, in order to catch them and put them in extracts from themselves of convenient size, duly chains of slavery, set bloodhounds upon the fleeheaded with titles, and quoted from the so and ing ones; yet never have we heard of this, far so magazine of such a month, so that editors and less have we seen it with our own eyes, that, in sub-editors, in search of padding, may be tempted zones of culture, a man with sound sense sets his to use them. Probably there is nothing really dog upon the people as upon wild animals. That wrong in such a custom. It is only a new devel- a sensible man devoted to learning should be caopment of the advertising system. A few bricks pable of such a deed, of this thou hast convinced are sent round as specimens of the new house. us, thou Ferdinand Kundert of Riga, student of It is virtually said to the editor or sub-editor, economy; for thou hast-one is ashamed to say "We know you have no time to read the volume it-set suddenly, like a butcher, thy collossal dog itself, or to form an opinion of it; but here are and what a bull dog!—upon tender girls of the a few little bits from it; if you find it convenient to quote one of them, we shall be much obliged to you; and this will not commit you to any opinion." There is no harm in this, any more than in selling goods by gratis samples. We are not sure, however, but it may interfere with criticism. A critic who makes extracts ought to select what strikes himself in a book; and even that low kind of criticism which consists in mere book-tasting may cease to be trustworthy booktasting, if bits are provided for the critic, already cut out for him. To be sure, this may be said in defence that, whether the critic uses the tastingscoop himself, or has bits placed before him without that trouble, the bits are equally out of the same cheese. But what if even this certainty were to cease, and the critic should have

age of fourteen, and upon old shaky matrons (Mutterchen), and this in the open place, in the full light of the day! In just punishment for this cruel barbarity we therefore rusticate thee beyond the precincts of this city of Jena for the term of two full years.-G. Stickel, Prorector, pro tem."

Ir was stated some time ago in The American Publishers' Circular that Mr. Spurgeon receives about one thousand pounds annually from America for the reprint of his sermons. Mr. Spurgeon now contradicts this assertion, saying he would feel "mightily obliged " if said publishers would only send him a thousand pence per annum.

From The Cornhill Magazine. WAS NERO A MONSTER? Ir, as is not improbable, the title of this essay should mislead readers into the notion that a playful paradox is about to be presented, they are begged to discard that suggestion at once, and to believe that my purpose is entirely serious. Indeed, one may consider it a proof of the imperfect condition of historical science that such a title should for a moment wear the aspect of a grim jest. At any rate, let me declare that nothing can be further removed from the spirit of this essay than the playful irony which would paint the mansuetude of one on whose name rests universal execration, or than the dialectical sophistry which would extenuate crimes until they almost wore the air of virtues. That Nero was an exemplary son, a loving husband, a sagacious statesman, or a reputable emperor, I altogether disbelieve; indeed one cannot resist the impression that he was a vain, dissolute, contemptible, and miserable man, not without good qualities, but with many vices, and placed in a situation where his vices must have been fearfully fostered. He may have been a monster little better than his fame. I do not know that he was; I do not even suspect that he was; but what I do know—with all the certainty possible in such a case-is, that in support of the capital charges against him, charges universally accepted without question, there is not for a rational inquisitive mind any evidence what

ever.

skepticism, to history, has yet to be made; it will be fruitful in results. Niebuhr changed the whole aspect of Roman history by simply discriminating its mythological elements. But Niebuhr, keen-sighted among texts, and familiar with mythology, was as obtuse as his predecessors in all that related to psychology; and not being versed in science, was unable to detect fictions which any scientific skeptic would at once expose. I say scientific skeptic, because, as will presently appear, the mere possession of knowledge does not suffice to shake off that lethargy of credulity which oppresses the faculties of men whenever they pass beyond the laboratory into the wide spaces of history. They forget the lessons they have so laboriously learned, and so sedulously practised; they unhesitatingly accept as evidence respecting a character or an event, statements which, if offered respecting a phenomenon or a cause, would be subjected to a rigid scrutiny and vigilant verification.

There is nothing on which the generality of mankind, even the cultivated, need instruction more than on what constitutes evidence. In science we are forced to be vigilant. In jurisprudence the keen interests of contending intellects fix attention upon every fact or semblance of a fact. But in most other departments our supineness is wonderful; and historians have been especially remarkable for throwing all their ingenuity into the construction of inferences and the accumulation of probabilities, instead of first carefully ascertaining whether the "facts" themselves were This is a paradox which challenges the at- not worthless. Positive statements exercise tention of all who interest themselves in a sort of fascination over the mind, coercing history; a paradox in the true, and not the its assent; and what is once positively aspopular sense of the word, namely, in the serted often takes place unchallenged as hissense of a statement which is at variance with torical fact. I have been made sensible of the dominant opinion, though not in itself at this lately by having, for a special purpose, variance with reason. There may be some- to read the Roman historians. The picture thing, at first, to raise the reader's misgiving they have painted of the empire is so remarkwhen he hears that a reputation so loaded able an example of the unreflecting credulity with infamy as never yet to have found an with which history is mostly written, that I apologist, rests upon charges which not only have resolved to take the character of Nero ought to have awakened skepticism by their as an illustration of what would result if men very enormity and self-contradictions, but began seriously to investigate the evidence prove, on close inspection, to be utterly in on which the mass of traditional opinions is defiance of all credit, and without even a founded. semblance of warranty; yet the proof of such assertions is by no means difficult.

The evidence, and that alone, will claim attention here; nothing will be attempted in Many revolutions in our historical appre- the way of extenuation, or apology. The ciations have already taken place. The ap- admirers of Lord Bacon explain his conduct plication of science, and above all of scientific towards Essex, and his corruption on the

bench, by adducing extenuating circumstances And why did not Seneca and Burrhus, when which may, or may not, mitigate the verdict condemned to death, avenge themselves on passed upon the acts; but no advocate denies Nero by revealing what they are supposed to the facts, however he may interpret them. have known so well? It is certain that Not thus will the character of Nero be dis- stories circulated at Rome respecting Nero, cussed. It is on the acts themselves, and not both in his lifetime and for years afterwards; on their interpretation, that skepticism will but before we believe such stories we must rest. It is the crimes themselves which will demand that at least some authenticity better be shown as unworthy of a place among his- than that of gossip be shown to belong to torical facts. Whether Nero were on a level them; we must ask who vouches for their with the moral standard of his age, or miser- truth, and what were his means of knowing ably below that standard, is beside my pres- it. ent purpose; I simply mean to show that there is no evidence for the crimes of which he is accused.

victed on suspicion, unless the suspicion is
fortified by a mass of evidence. But before
the bar of history accusation often has the
weight of proof.

nius has not impressed me with respect for | torians imagine, make the truth of the charges
their trustworthiness, but, on the contrary, as notorious as the charges. No man is con-
with surprise at the naïveté and uncritical
laxity with which they repeat stories too
monstrous for belief,* I do not here intend to
rest my case for Nero on such a defect in the
witnesses. Nor will I take advantage of the
fact, that if they speak against Nero, they
speak with almost equal animosity against
the Christians; though it is quite arbitrary
to refuse that credit to their aspersions of the
hated sect, which is given to their aspersions
of the hated emperor. If we admit that igno-
rance, party spirit, and the rancor of jealous
opponents misrepresented the Christians, we
must also admit that similar sources of mis-
representations existed with respect to Nero.
The objection that Tacitus knew nothing of
the Christians, and only trusted the reports of
their enemies, whereas the acts of Nero were
public and notorious, therefore known to
many, is specious, but will not bear examina-
tion; for it is not the public acts of Nero on
which rests the infamy of his name, it is on
the private motives imputed to him for acts
he is supposed to have committed; precisely
as it is on no proved acts of the Christians,
but on their" detestable doctrines and avowed
hatred of the whole human race" that rests
their infamy in the historian's judgment.
Now the evidence for the imputations against
Nero I affirm to be absurdly defective, resolv-
ing itself into mere suspicion, often prepos-
terous. Montaigne, speaking of the severity
of Tacitus with regard to Pompey, says
pithily; "We ought not to weigh suspicion
against evidence, and therefore I do not be-
lieve him here."

Britannicus died suddenly. This is a fact, the notoriety of which removes it beyond skepticism. That he was murdered, is an inference, and one which we shall presently see reason to discredit altogether. That his death was suspected-nay, believed-to have been caused by poison, and that Nero was suspected of being the poisoner, are also notorious facts; but these suspicions do not convert what is mere inference into fact-they do not as his*It is needless to cite cases; some of them, indeed, cannot be spoken of in English; but any one curious to measure the credulity of these writers may

turn to Tacitus, Annales, lib. xiii. c. 13 and 17, and Suetonius, in Nerone, c. 28. The story of the soldier whose hands fell from his arms and clung to the faggots, owing to the intense cold (Tacit. xiii. c. 35), and various miracles and prodigies gravely narrated, belong to the general credulity of the age.

Every reader must be aware of the immense amount of fiction which historians mingle with their narratives, fiction not less purely drawn from their imagination than are similar scenes in romance; interviews are circumstantially related, and conversations of some length repeated, in which horrible crimes are planned and damnatory disclosures revealed by the actors, yet the narrator never volunteers to give his guarantee for his accuracy; never informs us who was present at these interviews and took down the conversasations, or who betrayed to him secrets of this importance. Conspirators and criminals, we know, sometimes confess, and still oftener betray their comrades; when such confession and betrayal can be adduced, they take their place as evidence. But the mere supposition of an interview in which takes place an imaginary conversation is, in the strictest sense of the word, fiction, though it passes as history. Nero and his accomplices might have revealed their guilty thoughts, might have confessed their crimes under the stress of death-bed repentance, or under the terrors and agonies of torture; but as no one pretends that this was done, we must inquire how historians became acquainted with facts which, from the nature of the case, would be jealously hidden? Thus dialogues which the novelists or dramatists offers as the work of imagination, the historian calls upon us to accept as grave facts. This vice is so deeply rooted in all history that there is scarcely one writer who is conscious of writing pure fiction, when he explains an event by imagining who may have been its prime movers, and what may have been their motives. In a court of law this would be held as childish. In a private circle, when the character of a friend was involved, it would be instantly and indignantly repudiated. But the fiction which would not impose upon a jury, or grain credence in private, is received without hesitation whem palmed off as history.

So much for the testimony of the historians in general. I now pass to the appreciation of Tacitus, Suetonius, and Dion Cassius when narrating the crimes of Nero; and my first

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