Owen's friends when he was, after | Plantes, if he was ever in Paris, and much doubt and difficulty, called upon the following year the latter went over to fill the post of director of the natural there, taking lodgings at an old-fashhistory department of the British Mu- ioned hotel near the Jardin. seum. The opening lecture was given on the 27th of February; I was present and have a vivid recollection of the scene, for it was a very brilliant gathering. Nearly all the geologists, and not a few of the leaders of fashion, had come to hear the professor speak-not read, for he was suffering from ophthalmia, and White Cooper had forbidden him to look at a single note! The audience gained thereby; for Owen was full of his subject. The power of eloquence to enforce conviction was never more happily shown in a scientific statement. The fossil bones that he selected by way of illustration became living structures to the mind's eye, and the illimitable periods of geologic time rolled away into a vastness that held us spellbound. Owen had a manner of gesticulating with outstretched arm and distended hand that was quite peculiar in its expression of insistence. When there was an opponent in the lists a Huxley for his foe then there might be a tournament of words that would suggest "chunks of old red sandstone" flying about; on this occasion, however, Owen was in his scientific pulpit and had everything his own way even then he was grand ! "I had free admission," said Owen, "to the gardens, and used to go there at six o'clock in the morning, where I generally found Cuvier at work in a dirty linen apron and sleeves. At that time he was engaged in the examination of fish." Owen's lecture the day after this conversation was a defence of the Cuvierian system, and an exposition of the "Power of God" as manifested in the high antiquity of this world. White Cooper's enthusiastic account of the reception of the lecture entirely agrees with my own recollection. The prince consort attended a subsequent lecture, when Owen dwelt principally on the building up of the glyptodon and megatherium. The Marquess of Lansdowne-Tom Moore's marquess Iwas on this occasion seated next the prince, and, owing perhaps to the crowded state of the theatre, fell asleep. We all saw that he received divers suggestive nudges from his royal neighbor, but continued in blissful repose. Presently his hat slipped from his hand and fell with obtrusive clatter; the fine old gentleman was equal to the occasion; he picked up his hat, bowed to the prince, and immediately, with an air of assiduous interest, adjusted his glasses as if he had been interrupted in an examination of the diagrams on the screen. After the lecture the prince remained in conversation with Professor Owen, visiting the museum under his direction, closely examining illustrated the subject of the discourse. Science was in the height of fashion in those days, and preened her wings under the observance of the most cultured of royal princes. Professor Owen did not return to Richmond after the lecture, but slept at Mr. White Cooper's. During the quiet evening the friends passed together, "Owen was in a very commu- certain fossils and other objects that nicative mood, talking, amongst other matters, of Cuvier," whose acquaintance he made in 1830. The distinguished Frenchman being "a far-seeing man," and not liking the political aspect at home, took the timely opportunity of coming over to London for purposes of study. This was shortly before "the glorious three days of July," when barricades and bullets were the order of the day. When Cuvier left England he asked Owen to come and see him at the Jardin des In 1859, Mr. White Cooper had the honor of being selected by Sir James Clark, on the recommendation of Sir Benjamin Brodie, for the post of surgeon-oculist to the queen. The year following was also a year of mark, for circumstances permitted Mr. Cooper to make for himself and family the coun After try retreat he had so long desired. He tioned his recollection of his father telling found a cottage with delightful possi- him, that when he was a little boy he bilities, a place surrounded by an open helped to lead his grandfather, who was common on one side, and rich wood- nearly blind, down to the fish-ponds at lands on the other. Fernacres Cot- Fulmer Place, to feed the carp. tage, Fulmer, is only four miles from passing the village and turning across the fields, the six large fish-ponds came into Slough, and here, in convenient prox-view. We turned down towards them, imity to town, some of the happiest Owen walking with eager steps. 66 Ah,' days of our friend's life were spent in said he, "I can fancy that was the very spot the congenial occupation of tending his where the old man stood as he fed the fish." roses with an amount of zeal and suc- We lingered hereabouts for some time, cess worthy of Dean Hole. When a then strolled to the garden almost in silence guest at "the cottage" I remember to the garden where stands an enormous thinking how rich the neighborhood tree, known as the Balm of Gilead Pine. was in associations. Denham is within This, likely enough, was planted by Owen's a drive, Sir Humphry Davy delighted great-grandfather, Richard Eskrigge, and certainly from its age was coeval with him. in the place, calling it his "beloved The house had been completely remodelled pastoral retreat." In the course of an with great taste-but it was with the past afternoon my hostess pointed out to that Owen was most interested. He exme places connected with Waller, Dry-amined the outline of the boundary wall, den, Burke, and Gray Gray's church- | which could not have been altered; he put yard - truly a sweet and time-honored a fragment of a brick in his pocket, and I district ! gathered a twig of an old Scotch fir, which he carried away. We then walked through the village home, my friend expressing the satisfaction he felt at having realized at length that which had been ever since he came to London his most earnest hope. It was a curious coincidence that a house in the immediate neighborhood of the cottage was connected with the forebears of Cooper's life-long friend, Owen. Fulmer Place had been built in 1742 by the great-grandfather of the During his summer sojourn at the scientist, and had descended to Richard cottage, it was White Cooper's habit to Owen's father; but he was forced to come up to town every day, often travsell the estate, having been ruined by elling in company with his neighbor at the American War. The note-book I Upton, Mr. George Bentley. In a lethave so often referred to gives an ac-ter under date March 27th, 1894, my count of a visit paid by Owen to the friend Mr. Bentley thus responds to an home of his ancestors. White Cooper inquiry of mine relative to his recollechad driven his friend from the station, tion of the late Sir William White and shortly after their arrival at the Cooper : cottage they walked off to see Fulmer Place. It was an afternoon in those early days of November, which have a charm all their own. Above were broken clouds fringed with opalescence, on the earth lingered in decay the rich golden hues of autumn, over all was the tender grace of what hath been but is no more! A fitting time and season to revisit a passed-away ancestral home. We paused for a moment [writes White Cooper] on crossing the Common where the tower of the church first comes into view in the centre of the beautifully wooded hollow. As he walked on, Owen men He and I for many years travelled up and down in summer and autumn time. He was always an interesting companion, observant, not hasty in speech, a kind and considerate man. A man to whom you could entrust a secret, certain of its preservation. He told me several interesting matters in connection with his profession, in the course of which he saw and treated Lord Palmerston, whose nerve under a painful operation he spoke highly of. At Mr. White Cooper's house I met Owen, and had the opportunity of observing the child-like simplicity of that interesting man. Those who knew Mr. Cooper slightly could scarce believe the dramatic power he had. A story in his hands gained wonder fully by his telling it, and by the mobility and expression of his face. He was an allround good fellow, and a gentleman in the high Christian sense of the word. more Mr. White Cooper is never amusing than when he hits off a character in a few lines. It appears that Mr. S. C. Hall consulted him from time to time, and Mr. Cooper invariably refused to take any fees. Amongst the anecdotes told by our host that evening was one given on the authority of Chief Justice Erle. He told Mr. White Cooper that when Lord It was said of Fontenelle that he had Campbell was summing up at the trial as good a heart as can be made out of of Palmer, the Rugeley poisoner, the brains; this sort of heart never makes following incident occurred: When the true friends. A far more genuine judge continued to state the case source of courtesy and kindness strongly against Palmer, the latter brought round White Cooper a num- wrote on a scrap of paper, "I should ber of valued and attached friends. like to give the old rascal two grains of Amongst these were the Buckland fam-strychnine." This was handed up to ily, Mr. and Mrs. Bompas, the Brodies, Serjeant Shee, his counsel, who subseMr. Herbert Spencer, Geraldine Jews- quently told Sir William Erle. bury, and Mr. Sidney-the squirerector of a Suffolk parish, who wrote the life of his relative, Lord Hill. Mr. Sidney was one of the many good talkers at the dinners at 19 Berkeley Square. He had a fund of anecdote, and delighted in telling a good rustic Professor Ella, remembered story. the chiefly for making 66 Musical Union," a fashionable institution in its day, was also not an infrequent guest. I remember once sitting next to him at dinner, when I bethought me from his conversation that he must certainly know every single being whose name is in the book of life as some irreverent person designated "the Peerage.' One of his stories I remember: "Her Grace" asked Mr. Ella for advice in musical language for her daughter, who was about to be introduced. His reply, he told me, was "C sharp and B natural." On another occasion I was present in Berkeley Square at a dinner given specially in honor of the eminent German oculist, Liebreich. It was not long after the horrors of the Paris Commune. Liebreich, who had practised in Paris for more than twenty years, had been obliged to seek shelter in England on the outbreak of the Franco-German war. His house, including his valuable books, collections, and instruments, was destroyed by the mob. Great sympathy was shown to this distinguished man by his English confrères. I shall never forget the expression of Liebreich's face there was an air of profound melancholy behind the forced smile of sociability. His verbal gratitude was very effusive; he appeared almost to weep with emotion when we met. But though I supplied him with many "recollections" for his book, especially in reference to the Countess of Essex (née Miss Stephens), he never even gave me a copy. After the death of his wife, he told me that "her spirit was constantly with him." I asked him "how?" In the early morning a cloud appeared at One might add that though by illusion she was sent-like Johnny Gilpin's wife she had a thrifty mind. But the note-book has more noteworthy records; as time goes on it tells of weekly dinners at the Athenæum, when choice spirits met, and Charles Hawkins, Ogle, Farr, and Owen told incidents of Whewell, Sedgwick and others. There is a brief record of Cooper being at Sheen Lodge, when Carlyle, accompanied by Mr. Froude, called to take "final leave" of Owen. The man who had blown the loud blast before the fortress of shams and humbug was no longer himself; he "groaned as he walked up the path, supported on either side by Froude and Owen." It is better there should be no lingering record of those failing days, when the | to infer that your dear wife and the chilsilver cord is loosed, and the pitcher dren, now grown up, were all in good force. broken at the fountain ! We may turn rather to an earlier page, where occurs the incident of the meeting of three men, all at the time in the vigor of their intellect. I remember [writes White Cooper] finding George Lewes and Huxley at Sheen Lodge. A sharp discussion was going on between Owen and Huxley about the brain of apes and man. Lewes argued in favor of Huxley's view, and pressed Owen so closely that I saw the (to me) well-known shadow of annoyance in his face, and he abruptly closed the subject. Lewes was a man of great information; no one could advance a proposition or opinion without being called upon to support it, and sometimes this was rather vexing. The mention of Lewes recalls to my mind what a friend of mine said who knew him well. "Lewes is clever very clever — but his intellectual ac count is closed." With respect to the dispute about the brain of apes and man, I remember, as long ago as the meeting of the British Association in 1854, Owen gave a paper showing the vital difference between ourselves and our poor relations. Sir Roderick Murchison, who walked out of the lecture-room with me, observed laughingly: "Well, I never knew till this day that apes and men were so much alike." A whisper to the Past through the telephone of Memory brings many echoes, but I must remember that my pen is still within the limitations of time and space. I can only give one more extract a letter, the last letter White Cooper was destined to receive from Sir Richard Owen. The younger man was already nearing the valley of the dark shadow. SHEEN LODGE, RICHMOND PARK. MY DEAR OLD FRIEND,- When I recall our adventures in the Dutch Museum with the whales and their dislocated shoulders, the excursion to Baden Weiler, etc., it seems as if we had lived an unusually long time in this varied scene of existence. Your allusion to the lecture on Egyptian medical skill brought to mind the loss which the British Museum has sustained in one of my much-esteemed colleagues there, Dr. S. Birch, to whom the rich and instructive collections from Egypt and Babylon are mainly due. I had not heard of the failure of Tyndall's health; as a lively and instructive lecturer Albemarle Street will feel his loss, if by Gull's skill he be not restored to his old force. I am, and have been quietly by the fireside, contemplating, as on the 1st of March, the brilliant snow-garment of my surround-. ings. Occupation is not wanting. The Natural History Museum sent for me to inspect a series of fossils from Lord Howe's Island" -a desert tract of six miles by one mile in extent, about 250 miles from Australia. The results, geological, of a Government Mission from Sydney were transmitted thence to South Kensington. My neighbor, Chadwick, drove me there in his close carriage, and after noting the larger specimens I brought away some smaller fossils, sent for Engleben to draw them, and have finished a paper for the R. S. on a genus of toothless six-horned dragon. Its remains were completely petrified in a rock of coral sandstone, indicating the island to be a remnant of a larger tract in old times. The post brings me daily letters, tracts, books from all quarters of the world. í keep up pleasant correspondence also with my grandchildren. So with kindest regards to you and all with you, I rest affectionately yours, RICHARD OWEN. This interesting letter is a transcript of the writer's vivid and sustained interest in life, though already in the eighty-third year of his age! Owen's valued friend, to whom so many bright letters had been written during their fifty years of intimacy, was at this time in very failing health. In the autumn of 1884 White Cooper fell seriously ill and remained for several weeks at Fernacres Cottage. It was during this trying time that he received a kind and most gracious visit from the queen. In White Cooper, the Lancet mentions the their obituary notice of Sir William circumstance: The sight of your handwriting always gives me pleasure, and both sister and I were glad When White Cooper was confined to his bed at his country residence near Slough, | weighed a certain character of amateurthe queen drove over from Windsor to see ishness and novitiate. Not till within him and condescended to pay him a visit in his room, such was her regard for him and such was the interest her Majesty evinced in his recovery and welfare. White Cooper received the honor of knighthood only a few days before his death, which took place on the 1st of June, 1886. His threescore years and ten bear the record of True service rendered, duties done In charity; soft speech, and stainless days. From Macmillan's Magazine. I. THE DAYS OF IGNORANCE. the present century, in the hands of Miss Austen and Scott, did prose fiction of any kind shake itself entirely free from the trammels of secondary purpose, without at the same time resigning itself to the mere concoction of amusing or exciting adventure. Even Fielding, though he would let nothing interfere with his story, thought it desirable to interlard and accompany it with moral and philosophical disquisitions. he was a It is not therefore wonderful that Xenophon, who was quite a different person from Fielding, and was moreover simply exploring an untried way, should have subordinated his novel to his political purpose. In fact it is perhaps rather excessive to regard him as having intentionally written a novel, in our sense, at all. He wanted to write a political treatise; pupil of Socrates; and vastly as the Socrates of Plato and the Socrates of Xenophon differ, they agree in exhibiting a strong predilection for the use of fictitious, or semi-fictitious literary machinery for the conveyance of philosophical truth. The Cyropædia is in fact a sort of "Emile" of antiquity, devoted to the education of a king instead of a private person. It may even be argued that such romantic elements as it does contain (the character, or at least personage, of Panthea, the rivalry of Araspes and Abradatas, and so forth), are introduced less for any attraction they may give to the story than for the opportunities they afford to Cyrus of displaying the proper conduct of a ruler. And it is scarcely necessary to say that the actual histor WHO wrote the first historical novel? The orthodox, and perhaps on the whole the sufficient, answer to this is, Xenophon. And indeed the "Cyropædia "does in many ways answer to the description of a historical novel better than anything, at least anything extant, before it, and as well as most things for more than two thousand years after it. It is true that even nowadays hardly the most abandoned devotee of the instructive novel, would begin a book with such a sentence as, "It occurred to us once upon a time how many democracies have come to an end at the hands of those who wished to have some kind of constitution other than a democracy.' But perhaps that is only because we are profoundly immoral and sophisticated, while the Greeks were straightforward and sincere. For the very novelist who art-ical element in the book is very small fully begins with a scrap of dialogue, or a description of somebody looking over a gate, or a pistol shot, or a sunset, or a tea-party, will before many Such as the book is, however, it is pages are turned plunge you fathoms the nearest approach to the kind that deeper than ever classical plummet we have from classical times. Some can have sounded in disquisition and dulness. Still, there is no doubt that not merely on this earliest, but on every early example of the kind there indeed, scarcely extending beyond the parentage, personality, and general circumstances of the hero. indeed would have it that Quintus Curtius has taken nearly as great liberties with the destroyer as Xenophon did with the founder of the Persian mon |