springing up, saw him wild and delirious- | enable me still to be in time for the steamer looking; and when I went up to him, he by which it was necessary that I should leave said—“Oh, I am going mad!" I half car- Beyrout for Smyrna and Athens. ried him up-stairs to the little open gallery before his room door, and there set him on a chair. In bringing him up-stairs I had ordered one of our servants to go immediately for the French doctor Mr. Buckle had seen in the morning. His incoherent utterances were most painful to listen to; at one moment saying "How nice, very nice!" was the iced orangeade I had brought him, and thanking me, then telling me to go away; in the midst of all exclaiming "Oh, my book, my book! I shall never finish my book!" and after running on quite incoherently, crying, "I know I am talking nonsense, but I cannot help it!" and bursting into tears. When the doctor arrived, it appeared that he had given his patient a dose of opium, and Mr. Buckle, on his recovery, attributed to this the temporary delirium. And certainly Mr. Buckle's constitution was, in its nervous sensibility, so very peculiar, that a physician might be readily excused if he chanced to err in his first prescription. Next day Mr. Buckle was again better; and the next, Wednesday, before making final arrangements for my departure for Baalbec, I called on the doctor privately and begged him to tell me candidly what he thought of the state of Mr. Buckle. He assured me that there was no danger, but that he should advise Mr. Buckle to return to Beyrout by the shortest road; told me that, from his connection with the French Government, he should be able to procure the easiest possible means of conveyance; protested against my proposal to give up my projected, and indeed, contracted for, tour in the Lebanon, as entirely unnecessary; and expressed little doubt but that, on my return to Beyrout, I should find my friend quite recruited by a week of its bracing sea-breezes. I saw also the British consul and missionary, and could feel assured of their kind attention during the few days the doctor said it might still be necessary for Mr. Buckle to remain at Damascus. On the afternoon of the 22d of May, I bade adieu to Mr. Buckle, who expressed himself as feeling better, and left him all that remained of the medicines I had had from the prescriptions of a London physician. I had remained to the very last day which would Riding through the long-winding streets towards the gate, I was suddenly oppressed with a strange presentiment of evil. And the thought occurred to me, Mr. Buckle may certainly be in no danger now, but what if, in his weak state, he should be attacked by fever, so fatal at this season in Damascus ! I considered whether it would be possible still to turn back and remain with him. But not to speak of the contract which I should have to forfeit, my baggage and servants, except the dragoman with me, were a day's march ahead, where I was to meet them that evening; an escort of a couple of irregular cavalry had been specially granted me by the pasha; and if I turned back no reason could be given for such a change of plans but a "strange presentiment." And it seemed I could still effect the chief purpose I should have had in view in turning back. So, at a little roadside café outside the gate, I dismounted, wrote, and despatched a messenger with a note, urging Mr. Buckle, even if the diarrhoea were but partially stopped by the medicine I had left with him, to get out as soon as possible of the stifling air of Damas cus, and down to the sea. Ten days after, on the 31st of May, returning from a delightful and adventureful tour in the Lebanon, and with no expectation but that of finding Mr. Buckle at the Bellevue Hotel, and ready to leave by the next day's steamer, I rode into Beyrout. I went first to the consul's for letters and news. The consul said, "Have you heard nothing?" I said "No;" and remarking his agitated countenance, anxiously begged him to tell me to what he referred. He then gave me all the sad intelligence. But it seems unnecessary here to give the details of the consul's and the doctor's reports. Suffice it that Mr. Buckle, after I left, had been attacked by typhus fever, and had, after a three days' stupor, died. He had once risen and given orders for departure, but had fallen down exhausted. His last act was to beckon one of the boys to him, to take Alf's hand, and murmur "Poor little boys!" Everything was done for him that the skill of attending physicians and the kindness of an English nurse (the maid of Lady E), of the missionary, and of our consul could suggest. ་ And passing through the ruins of the Chris-In whom is there not narrowness? Is there, tian quarter, he was buried in the Moslem- then, presumption in my saying that there desecrated Protestant cemetery. Around him, appeared to me to be narrowness in Mr. Bucintolerant only of intolerance, the marks of kle; yet he is not only worthily lamented by the fire and sword of the fiercest fanaticism personal friends, but will, I believe, by those and the cruellest bigotry. who clearest see the forces of the age, be most mourned as a national loss. Truth is only to be attained by conflict; and the establishment of true principles is hastened by the vigor, not only of those who proclaim, but of those also who oppose them. Mr. Buckle in this may be an illustration of the error of one of his own views, that, namely, as to the influence of individuals. They, at least, incalculably influence, if not the manner and order, the celerity of human progress. And in the words of Mr. John Stuart Mill, Of all the melancholy things on earth, there seems none more melancholy than the death of genius, its work undone. Ward's picture of the "Death of Chatterton" is typical of but too many such tragedies. It is not the poison-vial that kills, but the ardent straining of the mind to do too much, to get too far, to climb too high. flung down the great principle that the course of history is subject to general laws, together with many striking exemplifications of it, into the arena of popular discussion, to be fought over by a sort of combatants in the presence of a sort of spectators, who would never even have been aware that there existed such a principle if they had been left to learn its existence from the speculations of pure science. And hence has arisen a considerable amount of controversy, tending, not only to make the principle rapidly familiar to the majority of cultivated minds, but also to clear it from the confusions and misunderstandings by which it was but natural that it should for a time be clouded, and which impair the worth of the doctrine to those who accept it, and are the stumbling-block of many who do not." I cannot here enter on any criticism of Mr. Buckle's work as it stands, and as it was meant to be, or on any discussion of his opinions. Yet so colored was the retrospect of our jour-" Mr. Buckle, with characteristic energy, has ney together with the atmosphere of thought in which we lived, that for long after my return it seemed impossible to give any account of that journey without entering upon those discussions which were the chief condition of its life. There was fundamental agreement between us in the general view of phenomena as naturally determined, and not by supernatural interferences; and also generally as to the method of scientific investigation. But there were withal important differences in our views, and I found that the discussion of these differences would have led to the enunciation of principles which would have ill fitted into an account of a journey in the East, or even into the last chapter of a life; principles, in a word, which could not be fitly treated incidentally. Neither the philosophical discussion nor the personal narrative seemed likely to gain anything by being united, Whether Mr. Buckle was justified in thinkwhichever were subordinate to the other. ing he had other intellectual merits than that Even his minor opinions I found I could not above ascribed to him I do not mean here to satisfactorily weave into a narrative, so closely inquire. But whether his work was greater did I feel them connected with those general or less than he imagined, there is more than views in which we differed. To giving, as in his work to set side by side with whatever may the foregoing pages, merely an account of have been less worthy in Mr. Buckle. Truth, our journey and sketch of personal charac-imdeed, compels me to say that, during these teristics, many things disinclined me. Among months of intimate acquaintance as fellowthese, the fear that, if perfectly truthful, I travellers, there were instances in which inmight hurt the more devoted of Mr Buckle's friends. At length I seemed to get a stand point, from which I could speak of him freely, and yet without just offence. A few words in conclusion, to endeavor to place my read-ings of his friends, but to the reticence which ers at that point of view. It is a point of view from which one can see narrowness and yet be just to greatness. 1067 THIRD SERIES. LIVING AGE. dignation was roused, not only against what appeared to me distorted moral views, but against acts wanting in generosity, if not in justice. Out of regard, not only to the feel I conceive imposed on myself by the intimacy even of an accidental acquaintanceship, and still more by his death, I have in these pages suppressed all allusion to those particular of hitherto accepted moral standards, and such progress only towards new moral standards as may have been affected by the Utilitarian Philosophy, In such an age of shipwreck we should be tender in our judgments of one an Buckle did not feel, and therefore hardly believed in the terrible moral, as well as intellectual struggles of this our transition age. views and acts to which I thus generally refer. But with full remembrance of them all, I can still say that it was no selfish nature that could be so shaken by the death of another as his had been; that could so passionately other. Unfortunately for his insight, Mr. cherish the hope of immortality; that could [ attach itself so much to children, so care for, and so affectionately write of, the friend's sons who accompanied him in the East; that could be so roused by wrong done to others; that could conceive and devote itself to the accomplishment of so great a purpose as the "History of Civilization in England." And as an illustration at once of his character and of how easily one may misjudge another, let me add that he told me he never subscribed a sixpence in charity; and yet I afterwards found that he personally visited the poor, and set apart a certain sum to supply their wants, not indeed in money, but in kind. Further, in judging him is ever to be remembered the flow of energetic life in the man, tempting him often to too strong or untimely expression. And in case of the misunderstanding of any of the foregoing anecdotes of him, let me say that no serious charge of effeminacy or cowardice can be brought against one suffering from such physical weakness and nervous exhaustion as Mr. Buckle had gone to the East to recover from, They call it bigotry when one cannot bear to hear anything against one's own opinion, And it is not love but narrowness of heart, that cannot, in thinking of a friend, set, if truth compels it, good and evil side by side. And he whom Mr. Buckle so constantly stud How much Mr. Buckle's intellectual views were influenced by his moral disposition, and how much the expression of that disposition was influenced by his intellectual views? that were a subtle question, not here to have its ied-Shakspeare-chiefly taught us to raise solution attempted. Was, for instance, the sharpness with which he sometimes carried his political economy into practice owing chiefly to the influence of the former, or of the latter? our hearts to take in such co-existence, to condemn if necessary, and yet by our condemnation not be made to forget to love. To what worthy end do we talk and write and act, but to raise ourselves and help to raise others to a nobler life with fellow-men? For that, breadth of sympathy, not the same as laxity of principle, is chiefly needed. And surely if what was great and little in this But two remarks may under this head be made. What might be called the vicious extremes of some of Mr. Buckle's views might also be adduced in evidence of the virtue of intellectual enthusiasm, boldness, and thor-man has been even feebly presented from the oughness. On the other hand, however, it might be said that a finer moral instinct might have prevented the expression of views only logically justifiable; and in such an age as ours, there are probably many unhonored men who profer obscurity to following against their instinct, what seems logic. And the other remark I would here make is, that a man must ever be judged in relation to the intellectual condition of the age; and that which unfortunately chiefly distinguishes this age is the destructive criticism point of view proposed, it should tend to breadthen our sympathies, to enable us to open our hearts to take in the little with the great, the great with the little. With the hope that the foregoing pages have in some degree fulfilled their purpose, I conclude for those only ought to attempt to sum up and balance the characteristics of an eminent man who are greater than he, either themselves or in their time. No such judicial summing-up do I presume to give. J. S. S. G. PART III.-CHAPTER VIII. ent of a needlecase, and was very civil-spoken -more so a great deal than the Curate of St. Roque's; and such a subject of talk and curiosity had not been in Carlingford for a hundred years. But though he rang his bell so often, and was Ir was the next morning after this when so tiresome with this litter, and gave so much Mrs. Hadwin's strange lodger first appeared trouble, Sarah's heart, after a while, melted in the astonished house. He was the strang-to" the gentleman." He made her a presest lodger to be taken into a house of such perfect respectability, a house in Grange Lane; and it came to be currently reported in Carlingford after a time, when people knew more about it, that even the servants could not tell when or how he arrived, but had As for Mrs. Hadwin, she never gave any woke up one morning to find a pair of boots explanation at all on the subject, but accepted standing outside the closed door of the green the fact of a new inmate cheerfully, as if she room, which the good old lady kept for com- knew all about it. Of course she could not pany, with sensations which it would be im- ask any of her nieces to visit her while the possible to describe. Such a pair of boots green room was occupied; and as they were they were too-muddy beyond expression, all rather large, interfering, managing wowith old mud which had not been brushed men, perhaps the old lady was not very sorry. off for days-worn shapeless, and patched at Mr. Wentworth himself was still less explanthe sides; the strangest contrast to a hand-atory. When Mr. Wodehouse said to him, some pair of Mr. Wentworth's, which he, "What is this I hear about a brother of contrary to his usual neat habits, had kicked yours?-they tell me you've got a brother. off in his sitting-room, and which Sarah, the staying with you. Well, that's what I hear. housemaid, had brought and set down on the Why don't you bring him up to dinner? landing, close by these mysterious and unac- Come to-morrow;" the Perpetual Curate countable articles. When the bell of the calmly answered, "Thank you; but there is green room rang an hour or two later, Sarah no brother of mine in Carlingford,” and took and the cook, who happened to be standing no further notice. Naturally, however, together, jumped three yards apart and stared this strange apparition was much discussed in at each other; the sound gave them both "a Grange Lane; the servants first and then turn." But they soon got perfectly well used the ladies, became curious about him. to that bell from the green room. It rang Sometimes, in the evenings, he might be very often in the day, for "the gentleman seen coming out of Mrs. Hadwin's garden chose to sit there more than half his time; door-a shabby figure, walking softly in his and if other people were private about him, patched boots. There never was light enough it was a great deal more than he was about for any one to see him: but he had a great himself. He even sent the boots to be beard, and smoked a short little pipe, and mended, to Sarah's shame and confusion. had evidently no regard for appearances. It For the credit of the house, the girl invented was a kind of thing which few people apa story about them to calm the cobbler's sus- proved of. Mrs. Hadwin ought not to permit picions. "They was the easiest boots the it, some ladies said; and a still greater numgentleman had, being troubled with tender ber were of opinion that, rather than endure feet; and he wasn't agoing to give them up so strange a fellow-lodger, the curate ought because they was shabby," said Sarah. He to withdraw, and find fresh lodgings. This sent down his shabby clothes to be brushed, was before the time when the public began and wore Mr. Wentworth's linen, to the in- associate the stranger in a disagreeable way dignation of the household. But he was not with Mr. Wentworth. Before they came to a man to be concealed in a corner. From that, the people in Grange Lane bethought where he sat in the green room, he whistled themselves of all Mrs. Hadwin's connections, so beautifully that Mrs. Hadwin's own pet to find out if there might not be some of canary paused astonished to listen, and the them under hiding; and, of course, that exbutcher's boy stole into the kitchen surrepti- cellent woman had a nephew or two whose tiously to try if he could learn the art and conduct was not perfect; and then it came while he whistled, he filled the tidy room to be reported that it was Mr. Wentworth's with parings and cuttings of wood, and carved brother-that it was an unfortunate college out all kinds of pretty articles with his knife. chum of his-that it was somebody who had : |