of the ballads of Goethe (1858). The Bon Gaultier Ballads-whimsical but not unkindlymeant parodies and imitations of many poets and many styles-well-nigh rivalled the Rejected Addresses or the Ingoldsby Legends in popularity; and though some of them are rather futile, they are still constantly reissued, and have themselves become models for the imitator. Aytoun wrote poems on subjects as various as 'Enone,' 'Blind old Milton,' and 'Hermotimus,' translated from Romaic as well as from German and the classics, and edited a collection of Scottish ballads. There is a Life by Sir Theodore Martin (1867); and see Miss Masson's Pollok and Aytoun (1899).

WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN. After the Bust by P. Park.

From 'The Burial March of Dundee.'
On the heights of Killiecrankie
Yester-morn our army lay:
Slowly rose the mist in columns

From the river's broken way; Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, And the Pass was wrapped in gloom, When the clansmen rose together

From their lair amidst the broom. Then we belted on our tartans, And our bonnets down we drew, As we felt our broadswords' edges, And we proved them to be true; And we prayed the prayer of soldiers, And we cried the gathering-cry, And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, And we swore to do or die!

Then our leader rode before us,

On his war-horse black as night

Well the Cameronian rebels

Knew that charger in the fight!

And a cry of exultation

From the bearded warriors rose ;
For we loved the house of Claver'se,

And we thought of good Montrose.
But he raised his hand for silence-
'Soldiers! I have sworn a vow;
Ere the evening-star shall glisten
On Schehallion's lofty brow,
Either we shall rest in triumph,

Or another of the Græmes
Shall have died in battle-harness

For his country and King James ! Think upon the royal martyr

Think of what his race endure-
Think on him whom butchers murdered
On the field of Magus Muir:
By his sacred blood I charge ye,

By the ruined hearth and shrine-
By the blighted hopes of Scotland,
By your injuries and mine-
Strike this day as if the anvil

Lay beneath your blows the while,

Be they covenanting traitors,

Or the brood of false Argyle! Strike! and drive the trembling rebels Backwards o'er the stormy Forth; Let them tell their pale Convention How they fared within the North. Let them tell that Highland honour Is not to be bought nor sold, That we scorn their prince's anger As we loathe his foreign gold. Strike! and when the fight is over, If you look in vain for me, Where the dead are lying thickest

Search for him that was Dundee !'

Loudly then the hills re-echoed
With our answer to his call,
But a deeper echo sounded
In the bosoms of us all.
For the lands of wide Breadalbane,
Not a man who heard him speak
Would that day have left the battle.
Burning eye and flushing cheek
Told the clansmen's fierce emotion,

And they harder drew their breath;
For their souls were strong within them,
Stronger than the grasp of Death.
Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet
Sounding in the Pass below,
And the distant tramp of horses,
And the voices of the foe:
Down we crouched amid the bracken,
Till the Lowland ranks drew near,
Panting like the hounds in summer,
When they scent the stately deer.
From the dark defile emerging,

Next we saw the squadrons come, Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers

Marching to the tuck of drum ; Through the scattered wood of birches, O'er the broken ground and heath, Wound the long battalion slowly,

Till they gained the field beneath; Then we bounded from our covert.

Judge how looked the Saxons then,

When they saw the rugged mountain

Start to life with armed men ! Like the tempest down the ridges Swept the hurricane of steel, Rose the slogan of Macdonald—

Flashed the broadsword of Lochiel ! Vainly sped the withering volley

Amongst the foremost of our bandOn we poured until we met them

Foot to foot, and hand to hand.

Horse and man went down like drift-wood
When the floods are black at Yule,
And their carcasses are whirling
In the Garry's deepest pool.

Horse and man went down before us-
Living foe there tarried none
On the field of Killiecrankie,

When that stubborn fight was done!

And the evening-star was shining

On Schehallion's distant head
When we wiped our bloody broadswords,
And returned to count the dead.
There we found him gashed and gory,
Stretched upon the cumbered plain,

As he told us where to seek him,
In the thickest of the slain.
And a smile was on his visage,
For within his dying ear
Pealed the joyful note of triumph,

And the clansmen's clamorous cheer: So, amidst the battle's thunder,

Shot, and steel, and scorching flame, In the glory of his manhood Passed the spirit of the Græme !

Halt! Shoulder arms! Recover! As you were!
Right wheel! Eyes left! Attention! Stand at ease!
O Britain! O my country! words like these
Have made thy name a terror and a fear
To all the nations. Witness Ebro's banks,
Assaye, Toulouse, Nivelle, and Waterloo,
Where the grim despot muttered Sauve qui peut!
And Ney fled darkling-silence in the ranks;
Inspired by these, amidst the iron crash
Of armies, in the centre of his troop
The soldier stands-unmovable, not rash-
Until the forces of the foeman droop;
Then knocks the Frenchmen to eternal smash,
Pounding them into mummy. Shoulder, hoop!
(From Bon Gaultier.)

" From Firmilian.'

Three hours of study-and what gain thereby?

My brain is reeling to attach the sense

Of what I read, as a drunk mariner

Who, stumbling o'er the bulwark, makes a clutch
At the wild incongruity of ropes,
And topples into mud!

Good Aristotle !

Forgive me if I lay thee henceforth by,
And seek some other teacher. Thou hast been,
For many hundred years, the bane and curse
Of all the budding intellect of man.
Thine earliest pupil, Alexander-he
The most impulsive and tumultuous sprite
That ever spurned old systems at the heel,
And dashed the dust of action in the eyes
Of the slow porers over antique shards—
Held thee, at twenty, an especial fool.
And why? The grand God-impulse in his heart
That drove him over the oblique domain
Of Asia and her kingdoms, and that urged
His meteor leap at Porus' giant throat—
Or the sublime illusion of the sense
Which gave to Thais that tremendous torch
Whence whole Persepolis was set on fire-
Was never kindled surely by such trash

As I, this night, have heaped upon my brain!
Hence, vile impostor! [Flings away the book.
Who shall take his place?

What hoary dotard of antiquity
Shall I invite to dip his clumsy foot
Within the limpid fountain of my mind,
And stamp it into foulness? Let me see-
Following Salerno's doctrine, human lore
Divides itself into three faculties,

The Eden rivers of the intellect.
There's Law, Theology, and Medicine,
And all beyond their course is barren ground.
So say the Academics; and they're right,
If learning's to be measured by its gains.
The Lawyer speaks no word without a fee-
The Priest demands his tithes, and will not sing
A gratis mass to help his brother's soul.
The purgatorial key is made of gold:
None else will fit the wards;-and for the Doctor,
The good kind man who lingers by your couch,
Compounds you pills and potions, feels your pulse,
And takes especial notice of your tongue;
If you allow him once to leave the room
Without the proper greasing of his palm,
Look out for Azrael!

So, then, these three
Maintain the sole possession of the schools;
Whilst, out of doors, amidst the sleet and rain,
Thin-garbed Philosophy sits shivering down,
And shares a mouldy crust with Poetry!

And shall I then take Celsus for my guide,
Confound my brain with dull Justinian's tomes,
Or stir the dust that lies o'er Augustine?
Not I, in faith! I've leaped into the air,
And clove my way through æther, like a bird
That flits beneath the glimpses of the moon,
Right eastward, till I lighted at the foot
Of holy Helicon, and drank my fill
At the clear spout of Aganippe's stream.

I've rolled my limbs in ecstasy along
The self-same turf on which old Homer lay
That night he dreamed of Helen and of Troy :
And I have heard, at midnight, the sweet strains
Come quiring from the hill-top, where, enshrined
In the rich foldings of a silver cloud,
The Muses sang Apollo into sleep.
Then came the voice of universal Pan,

The dread earth-whisper, booming in mine ear-
'Rise up, Firmilian-rise in might!' it said;
'Great youth, baptised to song! Be it thy task,
Out of the jarring discords of the world,
To recreate stupendous harmonies
More grand in diapason than the roll
Among the mountains of the thunder-psalm!
Be thou no slave of passion. Let not love,
Pity, remorse, nor any other thrill

That sways the actions of ungifted men,
Affect thy course. Live for thyself alone.
Let appetite thy ready handmaid be,

And pluck all fruitage from the tree of life,
Be it forbidden or no. If any comes
Between thee and the purpose of thy bent,
Launch thou the arrow from the string of might
Right to the bosom of the impious wretch,
And let it quiver there! Be great in guilt!
If, like Busiris, thou canst rack the heart,

Spare it no pang. So shalt thou be prepared
To make thy song a tempest, and to shake
The earth to its foundation-Go thy way!'
I woke, and found myself in Badajoz.

But from that day, with frantic might, I've striven
To give due utterance to the awful shrieks
Of him who first imbued his hand in gore-
To paint the mental spasms that tortured Cain !

Sir Theodore Martin, K.C.B., born in Edinburgh in 1816, was educated at the High School and university, and in 1846 settling in London, became a prosperous parliamentary solicitor. Besides his poetical labours in collaboration with Aytoun (see page 475), he translated Horace, Catullus, Virgil, and Goethe's Faust; the Vita Nuova of Dante; the Correggio and Aladdin of the Danish poet Ehlenschläger; King René's Daughter, a Danish lyrical drama by Henrik Hertz; and Poems and Ballads by Heine. He was selected by Queen Victoria to write the Life of the Prince Consort (5 vols. 1874-80), on its completion being made a K.C.B. He wrote Lives also of Professor Aytoun (1867), of Lord Lyndhurst (1883), of the Princess Alice (1885), and of his own wife (1901), whom he married in 1851-Helen Faucit (18201898), the accomplished actress, and author of the delightful studies On Some of Shakespeare's Female Characters (1885).

Sir Arthur Helps (1813-75), born at Streatham in Surrey, passed from Eton to Trinity College, Cambridge, where he was a member of the famous Apostles' Club, along with Maurice, Trench, Monckton Milnes, and Tennyson. He was private secretary first to Spring-Rice, then Chancellor of the Exchequer ; next to Lord Morpeth, the Irish Secretary; and on the fall of

the Melbourne Ministry he retired to enjoy twenty years of lettered leisure. Appointed Clerk to the Privy-Council (1860), he became well known to Queen Victoria, who formed a high opinion of his character and talents. Thus he was employed to edit the Principal Speeches and Addresses of the late Prince Consort (1862), and the Queen's own Leaves from a Journal of Our Life in the Highlands (1868). His first work was a series of aphorisms, Thoughts in the Cloister and the Crowd, published as early as 1835; his next, Essays written in the Intervals of Business (1841). Two poor plays followed, then The Claims of Labour (1844). Friends in Council (two series, 1847-59) was a collection of wonderfully attractive discussions on social questions, thrown into a conversational form. The same familiar speakers (Milverton, Ellesmere, and Dunsford) reappeared in Realmah (1869), Conversations on War and General Culture (1871), and Talk about Animals and their Masters (1873). His strong interest in the question of slavery prompted his Conquerors of the New World (1848–52), and the greater work, The Spanish Conquest in America (4 vols. 1855-61). Out of his studies for this history grew his admirable biographies of Las Casas, Columbus, Pizarro, and Cortes. Other books were a Life of Thomas Brassey, Companions of my Solitude, Casimir, Maremma, Brevia, and treatises on government and social pressure. Helps, who was made successively D.C.L., C.B., and K.C.B. (1872), was a most suggestive essayist, revealing everywhere acuteness, humour, a satire which gives no pain, and a keen sense of man's social responsibilities; his style is unusually clear and graceful. But though many of his works-especially Friends in Council and Realmah-were eminently popular, his message was mainly to his contemporaries.

Discovery of the Pacific by Balboa. Early in September 1513 Vasco Nuñez de Balboa set out on his renowned expedition for finding 'the other sea,' accompanied by a hundred and ninety men well armed, and by dogs, which were of more avail than men, and by Indian slaves to carry the burdens. He went by sea to the territory of his father-in-law, King Careta, by whom he was well received, and accompanied by whose Indians he moved on into Poncha's territory. This cacique took flight, as he had done before, seeking refuge amongst his mountains; but Vasco Nuñez, whose first thought in his present undertaking was discovery and not conquest, sent messengers to Poncha, promising not to hurt him. The Indian chief listened to these overtures, and came to Vasco Nuñez with gold in his hands. It was the policy of the Spanish commander on this occasion to keep his word we have seen how treacherous he could be when it was not his policy; but he now did no harm to Poncha, and, on the contrary, he secured his friendship by presenting him with looking-glasses, hatchets, and hawkbells, in return for which he obtained guides and porters from among this cacique's people, which enabled him to prosecute his journey. Following Poncha's guides, Vasco Nuñez and his men commenced the ascent of the mountains, until he entered the country of an Indian chief called

Quarequa, whom they found fully prepared to resist them. The brave Indian advanced at the head of his troops, meaning to make a vigorous attack; but they could not withstand the discharge of the firearms; indeed, they believed the Spaniards to have thunder and lightning in their hands-not an unreasonable fancy-and, flying in the utmost terror from the place of battle, a total rout ensued. The rout was a bloody one, and is described by an author, who gained his information from those who were present at it, as a scene to remind one of the shambles. The king and his principal men were slain, to the number of six hundred. In speaking of these people, Peter Martyr makes mention of the sweetness of their language, and how all the words might be written in Latin letters, as was also to be remarked in that of the inhabitants of Hispaniola. This writer also mentionsand there is reason for thinking that he was rightly informed that there was a region not two days' journey from Quarequa's territory, in which Vasco Nuñez found a race of black men, who were conjectured to have come from Africa, and to have been shipwrecked on this coast. Leaving several of his men, who were ill, or over-weary, in Quarequa's chief town, and taking with him guides from this country, the Spanish commander pursued his way up the most lofty sierras there, until, on the 25th of September 1513, he came near to the top of a mountain from whence the South Sea was visible. The distance from Poncha's chief town to this point was forty leagues, reckoned then six days' journey, but Vasco Nuñez and his men took twenty-five days to do it in, suffering much from the roughness of the ways and from the want of provisions. A little before Vasco Nuñez reached the height, Quarequa's Indians informed him of his near approach to it. It was a sight which any man would wish to be alone to see. Vasco Nuñez bade his men sit down while he alone ascended and looked down upon the vast Pacific, the first man of the Old World, so far as we know, who had done so. Falling on his knees, he gave thanks to God for the favour shown to him in his being the first man to discover and behold this sea; then with his hand he beckoned to his men to come up. When they had come, both he and they knelt down and poured forth their thanks to God. He then addressed them in these words: 'You see here, gentlemen and children mine, how our desires are being accomplished, and the end of our labours. Of that we ought to be certain, for as it has turned out true what King Comogre's son told of this sea to us, who never thought to see it, so I hold for certain that what he told us of there being incomparable treasures in it will be fulfilled. God and his blessed mother who have assisted us, so that we should arrive here and behold this sea, will favour us that we may enjoy all that there is in it.' Every great and original action has a prospective greatness, not alone from the thoughts of the man who achieves it, but from the various aspects and high thoughts which the same action will continue to present and call up in the minds of others to the end, it may be, of all time. And so a remarkable event may go on acquiring more and more significance. In this case, our knowledge that the Pacific, which Vasco Nuñex then beheld, occupies more than one-half of the earth's surface, is an element of thought which in our minds lightens up and gives an awe to this first gaze of his upon those mighty waters. To him the scene might not at that moment have suggested much more than it would have done to a mere conqueror;

indeed, Peter Martyr likens Vasco Nuñez to Hannibal showing Italy to his soldiers.

Sir William Smith (1813-93), who by his dictionaries of classical and Christian learning rendered great service to general culture in the nineteenth century, was the son of an Enfield householder. He studied classics at University College, London, after being articled to a solicitor, and becoming a teacher, was soon editing classical manuals and writing for the Penny Cyclopædia. His Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities, largely his own work, with contributions from scholars like J. W. Donaldson, Benjamin Jowett, Henry George Liddell, and George Long, appeared in 1842, and was ultimately much extended. Other dictionaries of which he was mainly editor were those of Greek and Roman biography and mythology (1849), of ancient geography (1857), of the Bible (1860-65), of Christian antiquities (with Cheetham, 1875-80), and of Christian biography (1877-87). He also edited smaller dictionaries of classical subjects, a 'Principia' series of schoolbooks, students' manuals of various kinds, and an annotated Gibbon; he wrote a 'student's' history of Greece; and from 1867 till his death he edited the Quarterly Review. LL.D., D.C.L., and Ph.D. of Leipzig, he was knighted in 1892.

Mark Pattison (1813–84) was born at Hornby in the North Riding of Yorkshire, and brought up in the neighbouring parish of Hauxwell, of which his father had become rector. The eldest of twelve children (of whom ten were daughters), he was educated at home until he entered Oriel College, Oxford, in 1832. A shy and awkward lad, diffident and hesitating, he suffered much in his first years as an undergraduate, but duly took his Bachelor's degree in 1836 with a second-class in classics, was elected a Fellow of Lincoln College, and ordained deacon. Under the dominant influence of Newman he gave himself first to the study of theology, wrote two Lives of the Saints, translated for the 'Library of the Fathers,' and almost followed his master into the fold of Rome. We have his own account of his spiritual growth out of the Puritanism of his home into Anglicanism, and see how the still wider horizon of the Catholic Church opened itself up before his eyes, only to disappear before 'the highest development, when all religions appear in their historical light as efforts of the human spirit to come to an understanding with that Unseen Power whose presence it feels, but whose motives are a riddle.' The reaction from Newmanism reawakened his zeal for pure scholarship; he became a tutor of exceptional influence, and acting head of the college as sub-rector, under Dr Radford. At Radford's death (1851) Pattison was kept out of the headship which was his right, and a further unsuccessful attempt was made to deprive him of his fellowship on a technical plea. The result of his disappointment was that for ten years he took little real interest in the life of Oxford. He published

an article on education in the Oxford Essays, acted on a commission on education in Germany, and served for three months of 1858 as Times correspondent at Berlin. Meanwhile he gave himself to severe and unbroken study, and scholars soon came to recognise his Roman hand in the columns of the Quarterly, the Westminster, and the Saturday Review. His report on German education appeared in 1859; his paper on 'Tendencies of Religious Thought in England, 1688– 1750,' was one of the famous Essays and Reviews (1860). At length in 1861 he was elected Rector of his college, but, though he made an exemplary head, the spring and elasticity of earlier days were gone. In 1862 he married the accomplished Emilia Frances Strong, afterwards Lady Dilke, who helped him to make Lincoln a social and intellectual centre for a world much wider than the walls of Oxford. Down to his last illness he lived wholly for study, maintaining the mediæval rather than the modern ideal of the scholar's life. Everything he wrote was characteristic; nowhere else among contemporaries could be found such fullness of knowledge set in such terse and vigorous English. Yet his standard of perfection was so high that his actual achievement is rather suggestive than representative of his powers, and the greatest project of his life-the study of Scaliger-remains a fragment printed in his collected Essays (1889). He actually published Suggestions on Academical Organisation (1868); admirably annotated editions of Pope's Essay on Man (1869) and Satires and Epistles (1872); the monograph on Isaac Casaubon (1875), which grew out of his Scaliger studies; Milton, almost the best book in the 'English Men of Letters' series (1879); the Sonnets of Milton (1883); and a collection of Sermons (1885). His volume of posthumous Memoirs (1885) was a strikingly frank judgment of himself and others, and a remarkable revelation of a singular moral and intellectual personality.

George Gilfillan (1813–78), son of the Secession minister at Comrie, studied at Glasgow University, and from 1836 till his death was minister of a Secession (later United Presbyterian) congregation in Dundee. But it was by a series of papers on the literary men of the time that he became known. These, ultimately published as a Gallery of Literary Portraits (3 vols. 1845-54), were originally contributed to a Dumfries newspaper edited by Gilfillan's friend Thomas Aird, and from the first were immensely popular and stimulating. He had a high reputation as an eloquent preacher and genial-liberal theologian, but henceforward wrote, edited, and compiled incessantly, being remarkable rather for the warmth and width of his literary sympathies than for his critical acumen. For Nichol, an Edinburgh publisher, he edited a comprehensive series of British poets, with memoirs, dissertations, and notes (48 vols. 18531860). He celebrated the Scottish Covenanters, the English Puritans, and the Secession preachers

in volumes; wrote Lives of Burns, Scott, David Vedder, and others; published, besides sermons, lectures, and smaller theological works, Alpha and Omega (1850), a volume of Bible studies, and Bards of the Bible (1851), which reached a seventh edition in 1887; and in his History of Man (1856) produced a curious melange of autobiography and fiction. (The Sketches Literary and Theological, published in 1881 after his death, were excerpts from an unfinished continuation of this work.) His only poem in verse-though much of his prose was dithy rambic, rhetorical, and full of audacious flights of fantasy-was Night, a Poem (in nine books, 1867), which, spite of many years' polishing, turned out to be less poetic and popular than his prose.

David Livingstone (1813-73), greatest of missionary explorers, was born at Blantyre in Lanarkshire, and from ten till twenty-four years old worked in a cotton-mill there. Resolving to become a missionary, he was trained for the service of the London Missionary Society; and sailing for Africa a fully-equipped medical missionary in 1840, he laboured for years amongst the Bechuanas. Repulsed by the Boers when he attempted to establish native missionaries in the Transvaal, he struck north and discovered Lake Ngami; and between 1852 and 1856 made his famous journey westward across the continent to the Atlantic, amidst sicknesses, perils, and difficulties without number. The story of his adventures and of his discovery of the Victoria Falls of the Zambesi awakened extraordinary enthusiasm, and was recorded in his Missionary Travels (1857). He next took service under Government as chief of an expedition for exploring the Zambesi, and between 1858 and 1863, when he was recalled, studied the Zambesi, Shiré, and Rovuma rivers; discovered Lakes Shirwa and Nyassa; and became convinced that, spite of Portuguese officials and slave-traders, Nyassa and its basin was the best field for missionary and commercial enterprise. His second book, The Zambesi and its Tributaries (1865), was largely designed to expose the Portuguese slave-dealers. His next journey, begun in 1866, was undertaken on behalf of the Royal Geographical Society, to settle vexed questions as to the sources of the Nile and the watershed of Central Africa. He discovered Lakes Moero and Bangweolo; saw the Lualaba, which he supposed to be the upper Nile, though not certain it was not (what it proved to be) the upper Congo; and, after severe illness, found Mr Stanley, or was found by him, at Ujiji on Tanganyika (in November 1871). Stanley had been sent by the New York Herald to look for and succour him, and the two examined Tanganyika and decided it was not part of the Nile basin. But spite of illhealth determined to solve the problem, he returned to Bangweolo, and in Ilala was found dead by his attendants (1st May 1873), who, faithful to the last, carried his body to the coast. By his strenuous and self-denying labours and his singularly great