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awaits orders to start, the ex-patients are struction of St. Peter's, have no doubt a afforded an opportunity to return thanks great weight in favor of Baron Geyfor all that has been done for them. This müller's opinion. The difficult problem, they accomplish with right good will by also, of Raphael's education as an archigiving three cheers for doctors, nurses, tect appears to be satisfactorily solved in attendants, and even for the much-abused, the early chapters of this book, which is and not always infallible, Asylums Board, richly illustrated by eight plates in helioto which the inmates of the Darenth Camp, gravure executed by Dujardin, and by at any rate, have good reason to be grate excellent woodcuts reproducing original ful. The omnibus then journeys across drawings of Raphael, or from the hand of country some five miles to Long Reach, other great architects working under bis where a special steamer is in readiness to directions, and also by some views of convey them up river to the wharf in Lon- buildings reconstructed from fragmentary don, whence they go their several ways. materials.
The greatest interest attaches, of course, to the chapters in which Raphael's works as an architect at Rome are discussed
the Villa Farnesina, with its stables and From The Academy.
loggia, hitherto considered to be the work RAPHAEL AS AN ARCHITECT.
of Baldassare Peruzzi; the Capella Chigi, The fourth centenary of Raphael's birth in the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo; has furnished the occasion for some new the Church of St. Peter; the palace of the editions of lives of the great artist, and Vatican; the several private palaces at also for a few treatises on special subjects Rome and at Florence; and the Villa referring to him. Among the latter per. Madama, with its extensive gardens. haps none has so just a claim to be wel. The drawings referring to the latter work, comed, not only by the art-student, but one of the most enchanting productions of also by the public at large, as Baron Gey: the Renaissance, are especially valuable, müller's splendid publication on Raphael as the writer las succeeded in identifying as an architect. We may safely say that many hitherto unknown or misnamed here for the first time the subject bas sketches, which have enabled him to rebeen treated by a competent writer, who construct the building and to depict the by various similar publications on Italian arrangement of the pleasure - grounds. Renaissance architecture, in French, Ger. The high opinion which he entertains of man, and English, has made himself widely this “most sublime creation” will cerknown as an authority on the subject. tainly find an echo in many of his readers. Passayant and other biographers of our
J. P. RICHTER. times were content to look on Raphael as the great painter, paying but scant attention to his achievements as an architect. In the opinion of Baron Geymüller the geoius of Raphael was, during the last
From St. James's Gazette.
GAMBLING ON ATLANTIC BOATS. years of his life, much more concerned with architectural problems than with his THE question of gambling and betting engagements as a painter; so much so on board Atlantic steamers, though it has indeed, that if his life had been prolonged recently come into notice again, is no new he would probably have given up painting thing. The following is my experience altogether, just as Bramante had done, in of a few years ago on one of the leading order to concentrate his creative
powers entirely on those architectural works which he had undertaken. When Bra. About the second day out of Queens. mante, the originator of the new Church town, I was beginning to get over sea. of St. Peter's at Rome, died in 1514, sickness, and boldly sought out the Raphael became his successor as chief "smoking-room." I was rather disaparchitect of the building. The pope's appointed with the place when I found it. brief on his appointment states that it is It consisted of a few benches placed due not only to the express wish of Bra. round the sides of the enclosure over the mante, but also to the model which had entrance to the hold — whatever may be been produced by Raphael for the com- the seafaring name for it — and formed a pletion of the work. Facts like this, es. by no means luxurious divan. Very prob. pecially when placed in the light of minor ably it was the only place at liberty in the circumstances connected with the con- | ship. In this den a lamp, like that at
Kildare's holy shrine, burned night and most of them were Americans by birth, day; and here to my astonishment I and some of them were no doubt only found, on my first appearance, a sort of travelling for what they could pick up on “sea Tattersall’s ” already established the way. Betting was by no means conand in full swing: the subject of the spec. fined to the ship's run. They betted on ulations of the members not being the everything from morning to night; until, result of races to be run by horses on as we neared New York, a large number laod, but the amount of miles our ship of victims were “cleaned out," and the would make in the twenty-four hours from “smoking saloon” got less crowded. I poon to noon. The way of doing busi. remember one unfortunate Down-Easter ness was for the bookmakers — and they for whom we made a collection when the were legion to give a certain margin of ship got to New York. I believe that that miles for the non-professional to make his is by no means an uncommon occurrence.
If it was a tolerably calm day Glad, indeed, was I to see the pilot-boat, twenty-five miles was considered a fair a speck on the far horizon. Glasses were margin; and if you guessed, say, from at once turned on her. There was imtwo hundred and fifty to two hundred and mense excitement when she was first seventy-five knots as a twenty-four hours' sighted. It was like the “ Leger," the run, and it was anything within those last big race of the season, and afforded a numbers, you won; if not, you had to pay. last chance for speculators to increase Large sums of money changed hands their winnings or get back their losings. daily at this game; the bookmakers hav. The betting fraternity had got up a sweepbaving by far the best of it, on account of stakes of £r each, to be taken by the man the uncertain state of the weather. Ow- who should draw the number of the pilot. ing, I believe, to a betting squabble which boat which was coming out to us. had occurred on a previous voyage, the well known by some of the New Yorkers captain declined to allow an official log to that there were twenty-four pilot-boats at be put up; so the "run" had to be ob. New York. Twenty-four numbers were tained from the engineer. As some of therefore put into the hat, and the rest the runs were far from corresponding with were blanks. Some one also knew the the anticipations of the losers, serious most likely numbers, and speedily bought imputations were not whispered, but them up. When the boat was first sighted shouted, against the engineer, who was it was decided that she was No. 8. The supposed by many to have been bribed. number of these hoats is marked on the It was impossible for the unfortunate man mainsail in gigantic figures which can be to please everybody, and an authorized read miles off. Then a very clever man log would have been far more satisfactory, indeed betted that she was not No. 8, and both to betting men and their clients; nor she was soon found to be No. 3. The was it possible that gambling could have “3” was sewn on both sides of ihe sail, been thereby increased. On the first day and showed through. A short distance that I entered the “smoking saloon” í off it was exactly like an “8.” and some was looked upon as likely to prove a of the betting men may have played the pigeon. More than one of the bookmak. same trick before. The pilot-boat was a ers came forward politely with book and beautiful schooner, which rode quite com. pencil, and offered to give me twenty, or foriably on the waves, which had still asked if I would take fifteen. When it some effect on our big steamer. A tiny was discovered that I had no intention of boat was soon let down into the rough betting, all sorts of rudeness was offered sea; and into it descended a gentleman me, with the intention, doubtless, of dis. in a new tall bat, a shining frock coat, with gusting me, and so causing me to give kid gloves and everything to match. And place to some one who might prove more now for the last piece of excitement. The profitable. Indeed, the “smoking saloon” gentleman in tal hat and kid gloves was soon got too small for the speculators and close at hand. Would he first touch the their prey, which last besieged the en- deck with his left or right foot? A large trance, holding up their sovereigos in sum of money was wagered on this event. vain. Non-betting men were soon sick of We got very quiet after this. The betting the perpetual cry of "Give you twenty," men went below to pack up, and look for and retired for a quieter pipe to the vicin- a clean paper collar. We landed at New ity of the smoke.stack.
York, and I saw them no more - I hope When one came to examine these sea I never shall. On land one can keep clear betting men, one could not help suspect of these gentry. To be cooped up with ing that they were “ welchers” who could them at sea is a very sore affliction. no longer ply their trade on land. I think
Fifth Series, Volume XLVIII.
No. 2105.- October 25, 1884.
CONTENTS. 1. THE PHILOSOPHY OF JOHN INGLESANT, Modern Review, IL. THE HERMIT OF SAINT-EUGENE, .
Longman's Magazine, III. LORD LYNDHURST,
London Quarterly Review, IV. AT ANY Cost. Part II.,
Sunday Magazine, V. THE SANATORIUM OF THE SOUTHERN OCEAN, Cornhill Magazine, VI. ON THE READING OF BOOKS,
Temple Bar, VII. MOORISH AMBASSADOR IN SPAIN,
Athenæum, VIII. CURIOUS NEWSPAPERS,
195 206 213 223 235 247 251 255
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TWO DEVONSHIRE SONNETS.
The hills lie purple in haze
All thy days,
The cloud sleeps over its shadow;
As a ghost in raiment of white
All the night Nay, doth not poesy excel ? You hear,
The mist keeps watch o'er the meadow. Smell, see, when waves the rod we poets bear.
The splendor thou hast, yet the spleen Look! sunset's shafts the Otter marshes Alush
Of a queen ; While drowsy scents distil from tree, mead,
For oft when the woods are fairest bush,
Thou darkenest heaven with a frown, Brightning th' autumnal tints their wild
And thy crown flowers wear,
With a tempest of passion tearest. Nor step nor word the moaning culvers
Yet hast thou a kindly hest, scare, As even falls benign with gracious hush.
Wayward guest, Behind, gloom rounded elms, wheat-tufted
And gently breakest the message, farms,
That days more niggard of light Red cliffs, gray church-tow'rs, orchard strips,
And the flight
Of gathering swallows presage. That winds 'neath old-world gardens. Here have met
O child of the summer past, Two sedgy streams whose murmured music
Though the last, charms;
Yet dearest of all we find thee ! Admire you not my picture? And 'tis set, Oh, stay with us, and by thy stay See there!- in blue illimitable sea!
The hungering winter behind thee !
F. W. B. BEER HEAD. 'Tis twenty summers since I saw thy face
And still the same thou frontest sun and sea
The winter wind is wailing, sad and low, For harvest, and a year destroys each trace;
Across the lake and through the rustling Ages ago Time scored those rents that brace
sedge; Thy forehead's purpose, and with cruel glee The splendor of the golden after-glow, Wrote wrinkles o'er it for eternity,
Gleams through the blackness of the great And scathing thunders scarred thine eld with
yew hedge; grace.
And this I read on earth and in the sky,
“We ought to be together, you and I.”
Fades all the west, and through the shadowy Then sweep adown the cliffs to Portland
And in the silent uplands of the park, So wait we both till glory be revealed,
Creeps the soft sighing of the rising breeze ; Ac emy.
M. G. WATKINS.
It does but echo to my weary sigh,
My ear is tired, waiting for your call;
I want your strength to help, your laugh to
cheer, [“ Avril, l'honneur et le ris de Cypris.”]
Heart, soul, and senses need you, one and O GOLDEN child of the year
all. That is sere,
I droop without your full frank sympathy With robe of gossamer twining;
We ought to be together, you and I.
We want each other so, to comprehend
seen, or wrought; Thy rippling laugh is the breeze
Companion, comforter, and guide, and friend, In the trees,
As much as love asks love, does thought Thy voice is the starling calling ;
need thought. Thy golden dower are the sheaves, Life is so short, so fast the lone hours fly, And the leaves
We ought to be together, you and I. From wall and from woodland falling.
All The Year Round.
From The Modern Review.
presses a warm sympathy with this branch THE PHILOSOPHY OF JOHN INGLESANT. of literature. His preface is a short and
When, in the seventh century, Ead. valuable essay on philosophy treated wine called together the wise men of through narrative fiction. “John Ingle. Northumbria to give him their rede touch. sant” might, with more exactitude, be ing the adoption of Christianity, one sadly termed a psychological romance, since it thoughtful earldorman spake these words deals with the drama of a soul's strivings; and said:
but Mr. Shorthouse prefers the title of
philosophical, and is, at least, in so far So seems the life of man, O King! as a sparrow's flight through the hall when one is right that the particular soul which he sitting at meat in winter-tide, with the warm
analyzes and depicts finds its resting-place fire lighted on the hearth, but the icy rain- in a philosophy which falls something storm without. The sparrow flies in at one short of religion. The author is evidently door, and tarries for a moment in the light and desirous of rendering his romance heat of the hearth-fire; and then, flying forth charming as his philosophy is deep. He from the other door, vanishes into the darkness wishes to delight by fiction as well as to whence it came. So tarries, for a moment, the instruct by thought. He maintains a nice life of man in our sight; but what is before it, balance between character and incident. what after it, we know not. If this new teach- He has made a fitting selection of that ing tell us aught certainly of these things, let historical period which best suited his us follow it.
partly picturesque purpose. Incident may And Eadwine and the wise men of be somewhat subordinated to higher in. Northumbria, impelled by a desire to terests; but the romance remains a work know the truth about the mysteries which of art, and does not sink into a mere phil. surround human life, elected to try the osophical or didactic treatise. He has dew teaching and became Christians. the power of revivifying bygone times,
Twelve centuries have flowo since this and of re-creating characters which years wise rede was given to the king by the agone lived, and loved, strove and suf. earldorman; but, although the then new fered, aspired and acted. When a long. teaching has, broadly speaking, been buried body is exposed to the light and adopted by all England during that long air it sometimes crumbles into dust; and period, men still strain after fuller knowl, when an inferior artist tries to summon edge, and yearn for clearer light. The up the images of the unforgotten dead, his new teaching even has not brought to all figures are stiff and lifeless, and turn to men the full comfort of conviociog cer- dust before our wearied eyes.
Not so tainly; has not wholly explained the be with Mr. Shorthouse. He has the life. fore and after of the sparrow's flight; has giving power of vital art. He has full not assuaged the sorrow of hopeless ques. command of romantic narrative fiction; tion, or satisfied the pangs of ceaseless and his work lives, moves, breathes, and doubt. It is still true that swift souls has its being in the clear atmosphere of struggle after deeper insight; that doubt fine imagination. oppresses, and that inscrutable mystery Nevertheless, to the mere un-ideaed shadows many lives with sadness and with novel-reader “ John Inglesant” must be a gloom. This perpetual spiritual drama of thing of sheer naught. For him it can the soul's aspirations, sorrows, and strain. have little charm and less value. With ings toward divine truth, finds, naturally, all the picturesque use of incident and and has often found, expression in litera- event, with all Mr. Shorthouse's skilful ture; and the latest work of mark which employment of the adventitious in human treats of this high argument, which has life, “John Inglesant” must remain a for its hero a warrior in the divine con. weariness to the ordinary vulgar reader flict, is Mr. Shorthouse's romance, “ John who seeks trivial amusement or coarse Inglesant.” Mr. Shorthouse defines his excitement which shall be obtained withwork as a philosophical romance, and he out an exercise of thought. To such defends this classification while he ex. I readers such a spiritual romance is barren,