"We'll die together, eh?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Jest not, Azrael. I am ready to do what I say."
"And I am ready to die," replied the girl. "Come, I'll show thee something,"—and with that, drawing aside the carpet, she lifted up a trap-door, beneath which was visible through the gloom a deeper, lower room, supported by short, stout, arched columns, close beside which a number of large barrels had been placed.
"Yes," said Banfi, "I know. In that cellar I have hidden the gunpowder which I saved after John Kemeny's fall."
"Look at this long nitrous linstock," said Azrael, drawing up the end of a thick cotton coil out of the cellar; "the barrels are connected with it, and many a time when thou hast been with me have I had the end of this lunt under the cushions of my couch, and held in my couch the torch which was to have kindled it whilst thou wert sleeping with thy head upon my breast, and I lay and listened calmly for the explosion which was to send us both to heaven or to hell."
"And you were afraid to do it?"
"Not for myself. But I reflected that thou wert not thine own but thy country's."
"I belong to no one now."
"Thy mind was so full of lofty plans. Destiny chose thee to be a Prince among men, a hero among the kings of the earth whose name should fill the pages of history."
"All that is over now," cried Banfi, with drunken self-forgetfulness. "I am nobody and nothing. The vault beneath this floor is all that belongs to me. In the world without I am a fugitive and a vagabond."
"Ha!" hissed Azrael. "Then thy enemies have triumphed over thee?"
"My curse be upon their heads! I had compassion upon them, so I have perished."
"Is Csaky also among thy persecutors?"
"Yes; he is my most pitiless pursuer."
"And have all thy faithful friends deserted thee?"
"The fallen has no faithful friends."
"Thou mightst hire mercenaries and begin the struggle anew. Thou art rich enough."
"My wealth has gone."
"Thou mightst beg for help from foreign lands."
"That would be treason against my country. I have fallen and know what awaits me. I must die. But my enemies shall not triumph at my death as at a festival, or laugh aloud to see me go pale and downcast to my doom. I will die alone."
"By Allah, thou shalt not die alone! Come, let us fill our glasses. Accursed be the world! we'll speak of it no more. Come, stifle thy soul in the delirium of joy, and when thy drooping head sinks down upon my breast, I will light the end of this lunt. Thou shalt dream of bliss, of paradise, of kisses ravished and returned; the twofold throbbing of our hearts shall beat the minutes; here below, the stillness of death; there above, the howling of the tempest and of thy foes; and then an earthquaking thunder, rending and scattering the rocks, shall proclaim to heaven and hell that none shall ever find Denis Banfi here on earth again!"
"Azrael, thou art a devil, and I love thee!" cried Banfi, and he clasped the girl in his arms as if she had been a little child.
An hour has passed, and the room has grown dark. The torches are expiring. In the huge vaulted chamber no other light is visible but the red vapour streaming from the orifices of the censer, which gleams like a many-eyed monster, and the burning end of the linstock, lit by Banfi in the midst of his mad orgy, crawling slowly along the room like a fiery serpent.
Naught is to be heard in the deep silence but the sighs of two lovers, and the throbbing of two hearts.
Suddenly he awoke. Pitch-black darkness surrounded him. It was some time before his reeling brain could realize where he was, or why he was there. He felt an icy wind streaming through the room, but it was only after a long interval that he grasped the fact that a door was open somewhere, and that the cold night air was rushing in from outside.
Gradually the scenes of the by-gone night and the vows of death came back to his mind, and he felt that he still lived. "The girl has certainly repented of her wish to die," thought he, and he began to grope about for her. The couch was empty.
"Azrael! Azrael!" he cried repeatedly; but there was no answer.
At last he tottered to his feet, and snatching some embers from the hearth, lit a torch. The solitary, feeble light did not penetrate far, but as far as it extended Azrael was nowhere to be seen.
The first thing he perceived was the linstock cut in two by a pair of shears.
"Coward soul!" he growled, and, pierced through and through by the air, would have put on his mantle, when a roll of parchment fell at his feet, and picking it up he recognized Azrael's handwriting, and read as follows—
"My lord, you read not hearts aright. We give our love for our own sakes, but we do not give ourselves for love's sake. You have frittered away your power, and, deserted by all the world, think to find me faithful who loved your power and that only: I am his who has inherited that power. He who is in the ascendant I adore, but I hate and despise the fallen. Corsar Beg's fate should have warned you that one day you too might fare like him ..."
Banfi could not read it to the end. His face grew dark with shame. "To sink so low as this! This wretched slavish soul even while embracing me was devising treachery! And I to wish to spend my last moments in the arms of such a monster——" At that moment he loathed himself.
"Cowardice and infamy! A man who has lived as I have lived, to desire such a death! He who has always been wont to meet his foes face to face, to hide himself from them in his last moments!—to hide himself in the arms of a slave! Shame upon him!
"This lesson has done me good. It was meet that I who could forget a wife who sacrificed herself to deliver me out of the hands of my enemies, should fall into the power of a harlot who would have betrayed me to them. Yet even now it is not too late. My life is forfeit, but at least I can save my honour. None shall be able to boast that he has betrayed me. My enemies shall never say that I hid myself from them and they found me out. I'll appear before them boldly, as I ought to have done at first."
Full of this resolution, Banfi went straightway into the secret courtyard, where he had left his horse. He was surprised to find it no longer there. The odalisk had taken it away with her.
He smiled disdainfully.
"What matters it, so long as she has not stolen me also."
He returned into the rocky chamber, rekindled the lunt, came out, and closing the iron door behind him made his way along the banks of the cold Szamos.
Towards midday he sat down on the bank to rest, and he had scarcely been there a quarter of an hour, when he heard the trampling of horses, and looking up—the bushes completely concealed him—beheld Ladislaus Csaky and Azrael on horseback, side by side, at the head of an armed band. The girl seemed to be pointing out something to Csaky on the rocks above, and the worthy gentleman was beside himself for joy.
Banfi smiled scornfully.
"Poor Tartars!"
As soon as the band had passed by, Banfi continued his journey. He had not gone far when he came upon a poor peasant cleaving wood.
"Dost know whither that armed band has gone?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. They have gone to capture Denis Banfi, on whose head a great price has been set."
"How much?"
"If a noble capture him he will receive an estate, if a peasant, two hundred ducats."
"Little enough, but enough for you, I dare say. I am Denis Banfi."
The peasant took off his cap.
"Does my lord wish to be led anywhither?"
"Lead me to the place where they will pay you two hundred ducats."
A quarter of an hour afterwards a tremendous explosion resounded through the mountains, which shook the earth for half-a-mile around. The enchanted garden of the Gradina Dracului had collapsed into an inaccessible chaos.
Csaky had fortunately lingered on the road, or he and his company would have perished utterly.
On returning, he found Banfi already under arrest, and was thus deprived of the glory of having captured his foe with his own hand. He immediately hastened to accost him, and, with exquisite malice, brought with him the odalisk, who looked at Banfi as if she had never seen him before.
Banfi, however, since his voluntary surrender, had quite resumed his former sangfroid, and looking contemptuously over his shoulder at Csaky, said—
"So your Excellency means in future to wear my cast-off clothes, eh?"
At this bitter jest Azrael hissed like a snake upon whose tail one has suddenly trodden, whilst Csaky blushed up to his ears and tried hard to smile.
"Does your Excellency desire any favour from me?" asked Csaky presently, with insulting commiseration.
"None from your Excellency. I came here of my own free will, and have been arrested I know not why. My wife, therefore, can now be set free."
"So at last we begin to whine for our wife, eh?"
"On the contrary. So far from wishing to meet her, I desire that as soon as I am put in prison she should be let go."
"It shall be as you desire, my lord!" replied Csaky, with ironical benevolence.
Banfi requited him with a look of the most withering contempt, and turning to the jailers entered into conversation with them: the magnates he no longer regarded.
When Teleki heard of the capture of Banfi, he ordered him to be sent at once to Bethlen Castle, to make the world believe that the anti-Banfi faction was headed, not by him, but by Beldi, to whom the castle belonged.
On his way thither, the captive magnate learnt that his consort had already been released, and thus relieved of his one remaining anxiety, cared little for the rest.
On reaching Bethlen Castle he was received by the Rev. Stephen Pataky, Rector of Klausenburg, to whom he cried jocosely—
"So they've appointed you my father confessor, eh?"
Pataky wept bitterly, but Banfi only smiled.
The jailer conducted Banfi up the steps with every demonstration of respect.
Banfi turned round to him.
"I hope you will let Reverend Master Pataky remain with me all the time?" said he.
Pataky was understood to say through his sobs—
"Truly your Excellency will find far better company awaiting you than any my poor self can offer."
Banfi, not knowing what to say to this, only shrugged his shoulders and hastened towards the door of his prison, but remained standing on the threshold transfixed with astonishment. In the room was a lady in deep mourning, who turned very pale on perceiving him, and clung to the table unable to utter a word.
Banfi felt all his blood rush to his heart. The next moment he darted impetuously forward and cried—
"My wife! Margaret!"
The lady threw herself upon her husband's breast and sobbed aloud.
"What! have they not released you?" inquired Banfi anxiously.
"I would not be released," answered Margaret. "How could I forsake you in your prison?"
The tears came to Banfi's eyes. Speechless he sank to the ground, and covered her hands with glowing kisses.
"While we were what the world calls happy we might avoid each other," said Margaret, with a choking voice, "but misfortune has brought us together again," and she bowed her head to kiss her husband's forehead.
Banfi fell senseless at her feet. It was more than even his strong soul could bear.
CHAPTER X.
THE SENTENCE.
The Diet, hastily summoned to Fehervár, strongly disapproved of the secret proceedings against Banfi. Paul Beldi was the first to declare that even if Banfi could be arrested by means of a league, a Diet was the only tribunal which could try him, and insisted that he should have every opportunity of defending himself.
The Prince came to the Diet with red eyes, an aching head, and a very irritable temper—the usual witnesses of a drunken debauch.
Teleki, finding the Diet beyond his control, got Apafi to dissolve it, by persuading him that if Banfi were brought before it he would escape altogether, and even turn the two-edged sword of justice against the Prince himself.
In the Privy Council itself, Kozma Horvath's opposition to the extra-judicial prosecution was all in vain. The league drew up thirty-seven articles of accusation against Banfi, and the magnate was impeached.
Most of these articles were so utterly frivolous as to need no reply. Banfi's real offence was his pretension to the throne, and this they dared not bring forward at all.
Banfi manfully replied on every count. In vain. Defend himself as he might, his adversaries knew only too well how much they had offended him: they could not afford to let him live.
The matter came to the vote.
Banfi was condemned to death.
On the day when this took place, no one could get at the Prince except the members of the league, who were constantly going in and out of Apafi's apartments with hasty steps and eager faces.
Towards evening they succeeded in bringing the besotted Prince to sign the sentence. It was no longer possible to recognize in the spectre-haunted drunkard the mild and gentle Prince, who had had a tear for the sorrows of the meanest of his servants.
Saddled horses and long rows of carriages had been standing before the castle gates since midday. Suddenly Ladislaus Csaky came very hastily out of the castle with a document hidden in the folds of his pelisse, and calling for his horse, mounted, nodded significantly to the other gentlemen who had followed him out, and galloped away. The other gentlemen thereupon leapt into their carriages, or on to their horses, with as much expedition as if some one was pursuing them, and exchanging hurried whispers, decamped so swiftly that in a few moments the Prince was left entirely alone.
Teleki was the last who quitted him. The Prince accompanied the minister to the very end of the ante-chamber. Black care was written in his face. He would hardly let Teleki go.
Teleki coldly withdrew his hand from the Prince's grasp.
"You have no need to brood over it, sir. It is not a question of the life of a man, but of the welfare of a state. If my own neck had stood in the way, I would have said, Hew it off! I say the same when it is another's."
With that he took his leave.
Apafi could not remain in his room. He was obliged to go out into the fresh open air. Inside something seemed to choke him, the air was so oppressive—or was it his own conscience? He went into the garden. The cool night air soothed his throbbing head; the sight of the starry heaven did good to his darkened soul. Leaning over the balcony, he looked amazedly out into the quiet night, as if he expected a star larger than all the rest to fall from heaven, or some one miles and miles away to call him by name.
Suddenly a scream fell on his ear.
He looked around with a shudder, and terror made him speechless—before him stood his consort, whom his counsellors had kept away from him for weeks.
The moment the last magnate had departed, her own faithful servants told her that the Prince had signed the death-warrant, and the terrified woman, breaking through the castle guards, rushed after Apafi, found him in the garden, seized him roughly, and shrieking rather than speaking in her agitation, exclaimed—
"Oh, accursed, accursed wretch! Thou hast shed innocent blood!"
Apafi tried to avoid his wife. He feared her.
"What do you want with me?" he asked in a hollow voice. "What do you mean?"
"You have signed Banfi's death-warrant."
"I!" cried Apafi feebly, trying to catch hold of his wife's hand.
"Away with that hand, monster! It is stained with my kinsman's blood."
"Then you don't consent to it?" stammered the abject creature. "Neither did I, but the magnates constrained me."
The Princess smote her hands together, and looked at her consort despairingly.
"You have brought blood on our family! You have brought a curse on the land and on me! Oh, why did I not let you perish in the hands of the Tartars? Where you are concerned virtue itself becomes a sin."
Apafi was crushed. Alone with his wife, he was something less than a man.
"I did not wish to kill him," he blurted out, "nor do I now; and if you wish it, I'll reprieve him. Here, take my signet-ring. Send a horseman after Csaky to Bethlen Castle. Reprieve your cousin and leave me in peace."
"What ho, there! Who is without?" shrieked the Princess.
The domestic servants came pouring in, headed by the pantler.
"Take four of the Prince's swiftest horses with you," cried Anna, as she wrote out the pardon with her own hand and made her husband sign and seal it. "Take this letter and hasten to Bethlen Castle. If one of the horses falls under you, take the others. Stop not an instant on the road! A man's life is in your hands!"
The grooms led forward the swift horses; the pantler swung himself into the saddle, and, leading the other three horses by the bridles, galloped away.
The Princess impatiently followed him with her eyes till he was out of sight, and then went up to her room again; but unable to rest there long, she came down once more, sent for her faithful old servant Andrew, and giving him an old piece of green velvet,[56] set him on horseback and sent him after the pantler.
[56] Green velvet was the symbol of the princely dignity in Transylvania.
"If the Prince's reprieve arrives too late, this will be a cere-cloth wherein to wrap the murdered man."
The same hour, perhaps at the self-same moment, Paul Beldi called his chief groom, bade him mount his swiftest horse, ride to Bethlen Castle, and inform the castellan there that he would cut his head off if the slightest harm happened to Banfi at Bethlen. He too dared not face his wife at that moment.
The same hour, perhaps at the self-same moment, Michael Teleki pressed the hand of his future son-in-law Tököli, and whispered in his ear, "We are a step nearer." And beneath the pressure of the youth's iron hand, the engagement ring which knitted him to Teleki's daughter snapped in two, and Teleki took it as an omen[57] that, one day, the hand of this youth would be stronger than his own.
[57] The omen was justified when, nearly thirty years later, Tököli defeated and slew Teleki at the battle of Zernyes, 1691.
That night all Transylvania was greatly disturbed. Farkas Bethlen could not sleep in his bed all night. Stephen Apor was so unwell that he had to send for his confessor, and Kornis lost himself so completely on his way home that he was forced to sleep in his carriage.
And what was going on in heaven? Towards midnight a storm arose, the like of which the oldest men could not call to mind. The lightning set forests and castles on fire; the falling clouds drove the rivers out of their beds. The alarm bells resounded everywhere. God sat in judgment over the land that night. The whole population was sleepless.
Only the reconciled consorts slept calmly.
With one arm under her husband's head and the other embracing him, the pale and fragile lady fell asleep. At times she wept in her dreams, and her tears fell on the pillow. She was dreaming of her happy bridal days, and of that sweet moment when she had laid her first and only child in her husband's arms, and she pressed him more closely to her, while he lay sleeping there so calmly, at enmity with the world, but reconciled to himself and to the better-half of his soul. Happiness, which had fled him in his palace, sought him out in his dungeon.
The night lamp cast its pale rays on the sleeping forms.
Through that terrible night, four horsemen, scarcely a thousand paces apart, are galloping at full speed towards Bethlen Castle. During the lightning flashes they sometimes catch a glimpse of each other, and then each of them digs his spurs more deeply into his horse's sides.
The first horseman reaches the castle gate and winds the signal horn. The drawbridge sinks groaning down; the horseman springs into the courtyard and places a letter in the hands of the flurried castellan. It is Paul Beldi's messenger.
The horseman who next arrives at the castle orders the gates to be opened in the name of the Prince. He hands the castellan a second letter. It is Ladislaus Csaky.
The castellan grows pale as he reads this letter.
"My lord," says he, "I have just received a message from Paul Beldi, threatening us with death in case any harm befalls the prisoner."
"You have your choice," answered Csaky. "If you obey me, Beldi may perhaps cut off your head to-morrow; but if you don't obey me, I'll cut off your head myself this instant."
The trembling castellan bowed submission.
"Up with the drawbridge!" commanded Csaky. "None must enter this castle without my permission. Whoever acts against my orders is a dead man!"
The spouses lay tranquilly sleeping in each other's arms. A minute later the door creaked on its hinges, and the Rev. Stephen Pataky, tearful and terrified, entered the dungeon. His heart died within him when he saw the consorts sleeping so calmly side by side.
He stepped up to Banfi to rouse him. As he touched his hand, Banfi awoke, and perceiving Pataky, who could not speak for emotion, tried to disengage his head from his wife's encircling arm without awakening her. At that very moment Lady Banfi opened her eyes. Pataky, wishing to conceal the fatal message from her, addressed Banfi in the Latin tongue—
"Surge Domine! sententia lethalis adest!"[58]
[58] Arise, sir, the death-warrant has come!
Lady Banfi, terrified by these mysterious words, the meaning of which Pataky's face so ill concealed, asked in mortal fear what was the matter.
"Nothing, my darling! nothing!" said Banfi, embracing her with a tender smile. "A pressing message which I must attend to at once. I'll be back again soon! Lie down and sleep gently!"
With these words he persuaded his wife to fall back upon her pillow, kissed her repeatedly with great tenderness, and soothed her caressingly between each kiss—"My soul! my delight! my love! my heaven!"
The wife little suspected that this was the parting kiss of a man about to meet his doom; Banfi looked at her so smilingly, feigning a joyful countenance as he stood on the threshold of death.
Then the castle horn again sounded. The Princess's first messenger had arrived, and demanded admittance in her Highness's name.
Csaky rushed hastily up-stairs, and just as Banfi, after half reassuring his consort, was about to quit her, suddenly burst open the door, and cried—
"Why so long a leave-taking? Get ready! The sentence stays for execution!"
Lady Banfi with a piercing scream rose from her couch, and stretching out both her arms towards Banfi, gazed speechlessly at him for a moment, then, clutching at her heart, fell back dead upon her pillow with wide-open eyes.
Banfi looked at his enemy with the bitterness of death, his streaming eyes hurled more curses at him than any lip could have uttered.
"Base, cowardly wretch!" he moaned, "was it then part of your mandate to murder my wife also?"
Csaky turned his head away, and said in a hoarse voice—
"Hasten! the time is short!"
"Short for me, but it shall be long for you! For a time is coming when you will curse the day of your birth, and will not be able to die as calmly as I do!—Leave me!—I would fain pray; but I cannot call upon my God while you are nigh!"
Csaky, overcome despite himself, quitted the room.
Banfi laid his hand on his forehead and prayed.
Outside the heavens were thundering.
"O God! who dost thunder on high, take my blood as a sacrifice for my sins, but let not a drop of it fall on the heads of those who shed it! Suffer not my native land to pay the price of my blood! Guard this poor land from every ill! Visit not this people in Thy anger, but be their refuge and their sure defence in the evil day! Forgive my enemies my death, as I forgive them!"
The thunder roared terribly. God was wroth that day. He would not hearken to such a prayer.
"Is your Excellency ready?" inquired Csaky impatiently, whilst the Princess's messengers hammered furiously at the gates, and demanded instant admission.
Banfi stepped up to his lifeless consort and kissed her cold, pale face for the last time; then, turning calmly to Csaky, he said—
"Yes; I am ready now!"
A quarter of an hour later Csaky admitted the messengers.
"What do you bring?" he asked the pantler.
"The Prince's pardon for the prisoner."
"You are too late!—And you?"
"A cere-cloth for the corpse!"
"You have brought it very opportunely."
The highest head of the Transylvanian nobility had already fallen in the dust.
The tragedy ends with the hero's death.
The tide of history brings other shapes and other leaders to the surface. The fate, the fashion, and the history of Transylvania are no longer the same.[59] The sword-stroke which slew Banfi cut short an epoch only half begun. The body of that dominating form reposes in the crypt of the church at Bethlen, and no one has inherited his spirit.
[59] The subsequent fortunes of Apafi, Csaky, Teleki, Tököli, Azrael, and Feriz are related in Jokai's second historical novel, Törökvilag Magyarorzagbán (The Turks in Hungary), which is a sequel to the present story, and ends with the collapse of the Turkish power in Hungary.
But the chronicles say that whenever danger threatens Transylvania, the blood of the buried patriot flows from his simple tomb, a terror to the people, and a wonder to the world.
THE END.
Richard Clay & Sons, Limited,
London & Bungay.
11, HENRIETTA STREET, W.C.,
May, 1894.
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BEYOND THE SEAS; Being the surprising Adventures and ingenious Opinions of Ralph, Lord St. Keyne, told by his kinsman, Humphrey St. Keyne. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
COLLEGE AND CORPORATION PLATE. A Handbook for the Reproduction of Silver Plate. With numerous Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.
A MIRROR OF THE TURF; or, The Machinery of Horse-racing Revealed; showing the Sport of Kings as it is To-day. Crown 8vo, 8s.
DAIRY FARMING. To which is added a Description of the Chief Continental Systems. With numerous Illustrations. By James Long. Crown 8vo, 9s.
DAIRY FARMING, MANAGEMENT OF COWS, etc. By Arthur Roland. Edited by William Ablett. Crown 8vo, 5s.
GERMANY AND THE GERMANS. Social Life, Culture, Religious Life, Politics, Labour and Socialism, Makers of Germany, etc., etc. In 2 vols. Demy 8vo, 26s.
THE RACEHORSE IN TRAINING, with Hints on Racing and Racing Reform, to which is added a Chapter on Shoeing. Seventh Edition. Demy 8vo, 9s.
THREE MONTHS' TOUR IN IRELAND. Translated and Condensed by Mrs. Arthur Walter. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 6s.
TAPESTRY. With numerous Woodcuts. Cloth, 2s. 6d.
MEMOIRS OF A ROYALIST. Edited by C. B. Pitman. 2 vols. With Portraits. Demy 8vo, 32s.
SOME FRENCH WRITERS. Crown 8vo, 5s.
AROUND TONKIN AND SIAM. With 28 Illustrations and Map. Demy 8vo, 14s.
MADAME DE STAEL: Her Friends and Her Influence in Politics and Literature. By Lady Blenner-Hassett. Translated from the German by J. E. Gordon Cumming. With a Portrait. 3 vols. Demy 8vo, 36s.
SIBERIA AS IT IS. With an Introduction by Madame Olga Novikoff. With numerous Illustrations. Demy 8vo, 18s.
A RIDE TO INDIA ACROSS PERSIA AND BALUCHISTAN. With numerous Illustrations and Map. Demy 8vo, 16s.
FROM PEKIN TO CALAIS BY LAND. With numerous Illustrations. New and Cheap Edition. Demy 8vo, 7s. 6d.
CROSS CURRENTS: a Novel. A New Edition in One Volume. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.; in boards, 2s.
ART IN THE MODERN STATE. With Facsimile. Demy 8vo, 9s.
THE NESTS AND EGGS OF NON-INDIGENOUS BRITISH BIRDS. [In the Press.
THE NESTS AND EGGS OF BRITISH BIRDS: When and Where to Find Them. Being a Handbook to the Oology of the British Islands. Crown 8vo, 6s.
JOTTINGS ABOUT BIRDS. With Coloured Frontispiece by J. Smit. Crown 8vo, 6s.
THE GAME BIRDS AND WILD FOWL OF THE BRITISH ISLANDS. Being a Handbook for the Naturalist and Sportsman. With Illustrations by A. T. Elwes. Demy 8vo, 18s.
THE MIGRATION OF BIRDS. An Attempt to reduce Avian Season Flight to Law. Crown 8vo, 6s.
THE BIRDS OF OUR RAMBLES: A Companion for the Country. With Illustrations by A. T. Elwes. Large crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
IDLE HOURS WITH NATURE. With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, 6s.
ANNALS OF BIRD LIFE: A Year-Book of British Ornithology. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
SKETCH OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHYSIOGRAPHY. With Maps and numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 6s.
THE HISTORY OF ANCIENT CIVILISATION. A Handbook based upon M. Gustave Ducoudray's "Histoire Sommaire de la Civilisation." Edited by the Rev. J. Verschoyle, M.A. With Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, 6s.
THE HISTORY OF MODERN CIVILISATION. With Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, 9s.
DRAWING-BOOK OF THE GOVERNMENT SCHOOL OF DESIGN. Fifty selected Plates. Folio, sewed, 5s.; mounted, 18s.
ELEMENTARY OUTLINES OF ORNAMENT. Plates I. to XXII., containing 97 Examples, adapted for Practice of Standards I. to IV. Small folio, sewed, 2s. 6d.
OLD COURT LIFE IN SPAIN. 2 vols. Demy 8vo, 24s.
THE YORUBA-SPEAKING PEOPLES OF THE SLAVE COAST OF WEST AFRICA: their Religion, Manners, Customs, Laws, Language, etc. With an Appendix and Map. Demy 8vo, 10s. 6d.
HISTORY OF THE GOLD COAST OF WEST AFRICA. Demy 8vo, 10s. 6d.
THE EWE-SPEAKING PEOPLE OF THE SLAVE COAST OF WEST AFRICA. With Map. Demy 8vo, 10s. 6d.
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SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES. Crown 8vo, 6s.
THE HISTORY OF THE FIRST WEST INDIA REGIMENT. Demy 8vo, 18s.
MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. With numerous Woodcuts. Large crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.
POLITICS AND LETTERS. Demy 8vo, 9s.
ENGLAND: ITS PEOPLE, POLITY, AND PURSUITS. New and Revised Edition. Demy 8vo, 3s. 6d.
EUROPEAN POLITICS, THE PRESENT POSITION OF. By the Author of "Greater Britain." Demy 8vo, 12s.
AUTUMN SONGS. Crown 8vo, 6s.
THE STORY OF HELEN DAVENANT. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.; in boards, 2s.
QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES (A Village Story), and other Poems. Crown 8vo, 6s.
ANTHONY BABINGTON: A Drama. Crown 8vo, 6s.
HENRY IRVING: A Record of Twenty Years at the Lyceum. With Portrait. Demy 8vo, 14s.
THE HISTORY OF PICKWICK. An Account of its Characters, Localities, Allusions, and Illustrations. With a Bibliography. Demy 8vo, 8s.
ANIMAL PLAGUES: THEIR HISTORY, NATURE, AND PREVENTION. 8vo, cloth, 15s.
PRACTICAL HORSE-SHOEING. With 37 Illustrations. Fifth Edition, enlarged. 8vo, sewed, 2s.
RABIES AND HYDROPHOBIA: THEIR HISTORY, NATURE, CAUSES, SYMPTOMS, AND PREVENTION. With 8 Illustrations. 8vo, cloth, 15s.
THE HIGHLANDS OF CENTRAL INDIA: Notes on their Forests and Wild Tribes, Natural History and Sports. With Map and Coloured Illustrations. A New Edition. Demy 8vo, 12s.
MAIOLICA. With numerous Woodcuts. Large crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.
BRONZES. With numerous Woodcuts. Large crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.
ROUND ABOUT THE CROOKED SPIRE. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo.
JAPANESE POTTERY. Being a Native Report, with an Introduction. With Illustrations and Marks. Large crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
IRONWORK. From the Earliest Time to the end of the Mediæval Period. With 57 Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, 3s.
FRENCH POTTERY. With Illustrations and Marks. Large crown 8vo, 3s.
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PRACTICAL METALLURGY. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 3s.
A LAND OF MOSQUES AND MARABOUTS. Illustrated. Demy 8vo, 14s.
SECRETS OF THE PRISON HOUSE: Gaol Studies and Sketches. With Illustrations by G. D. Rowlandson. 2 vols. 30s.
FRENCH REVOLUTIONARY GENERALS. Large crown 8vo, 6s.
SHOOTING AND SALMON FISHING: HINTS AND RECOLLECTIONS. With Illustrations. Second Edition. Demy 8vo, 16s.
CHINA AND HER NEIGHBOURS. France in Indo-China, Russia and China, India and Thibet, etc. With Maps. Demy 8vo, 9s.
A TRAVELLING ATLAS OF THE ENGLISH COUNTIES. Fifty Maps, coloured. Roan tuck, 10s. 6d.
ELDER CONKLIN, AND OTHER STORIES. Crown 8vo.
THE NEW ACADEME: An Educational Romance, Crown 8vo, 5s.
ELEMENTARY DESIGN: being a Theoretical and Practical Introduction in the Art of Decoration. With 110 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
INDUSTRIAL ARTS OF SCANDINAVIA IN THE PAGAN TIMES. With numerous Woodcuts. Large crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
NAVAL ARCHITECTURE AND SHIP BUILDING. [In the Press.
MARINE ENGINES AND BOILERS. With 69 Woodcuts. Large crown 8vo, 3s.
BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE COMÉDIE FRANCAISE, AND OTHER RECOLLECTIONS. Translated from the French. Demy 8vo, 14s.
THE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE: LINGUISTICS, PHILOLOGY, AND ETYMOLOGY. With Maps. Large crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
TURENNE. With Portrait and Two Maps. Large crown 8vo, 4s.
BIRDS IN A VILLAGE. Square crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA. With numerous Illustrations by J. Smit and A. Hartley. Demy 8vo, 14s.
THE NATURALIST IN LA PLATA. With numerous Illustrations by J. Smit. Second Edition. Demy 8vo, 16s.
HALF A CENTURY OF MUSIC IN ENGLAND. 1837-1887. Demy 8vo, 8s.
A WEEK'S TRAMP IN DICKENSLAND. With upwards of 100 Illustrations by F. G. Kitton, Herbert Railton, and others. Second and Cheaper Edition. Demy 8vo, 7s. 6d.
CREATURES OF OTHER DAYS. With Illustrations by J. Smit and others. [In the Press.
EXTINCT MONSTERS. A popular Account of some of the larger forms of Ancient Animal Life. With numerous Illustrations by J. Smit and others, and a Preface by Dr. Henry Woodward, F.R.S. Third Thousand, revised and enlarged. Demy 8vo, 12s.
INDUSTRIAL ARTS: Historical Sketches. With numerous Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, 3s.
DECORATIVE DESIGN. An Elementary Text Book of Principles and Practice. With numerous Illustrations. Second Edition. Large crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
HANDBOOK TO PERSPECTIVE. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
PERSPECTIVE CHARTS, for use in Class Teaching. 2s.
PRETTY MICHAL. Translated by R. Nisbet Bain. Crown 8vo, 5s.
HANDBOOK OF THE JONES COLLECTION IN THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM. With Portrait and Woodcuts. Large crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
HINTS TO AMATEURS. A Handbook on Art With Diagrams. Crown 8vo, 1s. 6d.
TRAVELS IN AFRICA. Translated from the German by Professor A. H. Keane, F.R.G.S. 1875-1886. Profusely Illustrated. 3 vols. Demy 8vo. 21s. each.
THE LIFE OF MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA: A Biographical, Literary, and Historical Study, with a Tentative Bibliography from 1585 to 1892, and an Annotated Appendix on the "Canto de Calíope." Demy 8vo, 16s.
CONVIVIAL CALEDONIA: Inns and Taverns of Scotland, and some Famous People who have frequented them. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
PHILISTINES AND ISRAELITES: A New Light on the World's History. Demy 4to, 6s.
JESUS CHRIST; GOD; and GOD AND MAN. Conferences delivered at Notre Dame, in Paris. Seventh Thousand. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
HUMAN ORIGINS: EVIDENCE FROM HISTORY AND SCIENCE. With Illustrations. Twelfth Thousand. Demy 8vo, 3s. 6d.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE AND ESSAYS. Thirteenth Thousand. Demy 8vo, 3s. 6d.
MODERN SCIENCE AND MODERN THOUGHT. Nineteenth Thousand. Demy 8vo, 3s. 6d.
A MODERN ZOROASTRIAN. Eighth Thousand. Demy 8vo, 3s. 6d.
RUSSIAN CHARACTERISTICS. Reprinted, with Revisions, from The Fortnightly Review. Demy 8vo, 14s.
EVOLUTION: ITS NATURE, ITS EVIDENCES, AND ITS RELATIONS TO RELIGIOUS THOUGHT. A New and Revised Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.
PHILOSOPHY, Historical and Critical Translated, with an Introduction, by A. H. Keane, B.A. Large crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
PAPACY, SOCIALISM, AND DEMOCRACY. Translated by B. L. O'Donnell. Crown. 8vo, 7s. 6d.
THE SEA BOAT: HOW TO BUILD, RIG, AND SAIL HER. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 4s. 6d.
LIFE ABOARD A BRITISH PRIVATEER IN THE TIME OF QUEEN ANNE. Being the Journals of Captain Woodes Rogers, Master Mariner. New and cheaper Edition. Large crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
A SEA-PAINTER'S LOG. With 12 Full-page Illustrations by the Author. Large crown 8vo, 12s.
SOCIOLOGY. Based upon Ethnology. Demy 8vo, 3s. 6d.
BIOLOGY. With 83 Illustrations. A New Edition. Demy 8vo, 3s. 6d.
THE CLAIMS OF CHRISTIANITY. Demy 8vo.
ON SHIBBOLETHS. Demy 8vo, 12s.
ON RIGHT AND WRONG. Second Edition. Demy 8vo, 12s.
A CENTURY OF REVOLUTION. Second Edition. Demy 8vo, 12s.
CHAPTERS ON EUROPEAN HISTORY. 2 vols. Demy 8vo, 21s.
ANCIENT RELIGION AND MODERN THOUGHT. Second Edition. Demy 8vo, 12s.
TEXT BOOK OF MECHANICAL ENGINEERING. With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo. [In the Press.
THE STREET OF HUMAN HABITATIONS. Fully Illustrated. Crown 8vo, 6s.
THE WAIF FROM THE WAVES: a Story of Three Lives, touching this World and another. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
THE CHILD OF STAFFERTON. Twelfth Thousand. Crown 8vo, boards, 1s.; in cloth, 1s. 6d.
THE BROKEN VOW. Seventeenth Thousand. Crown 8vo, boards, 1s.; in cloth, 1s. 6d.
ON ACTIVE SERVICE. Printed in Colours. Oblong 4to, 5s.
SKETCHES OF INDIAN LIFE. Printed in Colours. 4to, 6s.
BRITISH EAST AFRICA: A History of the Formation and Work of the Imperial British East Africa Company. With Maps and Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 6s.
OUR OCEAN RAILWAYS; or, the Rise, Progress, and Development of Ocean Steam Navigation, etc, etc. With Maps and Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 6s.
THE LIFE OF WARREN HASTINGS. [In the Press.
PRINCE EUGENE OF SAVOY. With Portrait and Maps. Large crown 8vo, 6s.
LOUDON. A Sketch of the Military Life of Gideon Ernest, Freiherr von Loudon. With Portrait and Maps. Large crown 8vo, 4s.
A HUMAN DOCUMENT. One Volume. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
REMINISCENCES OF A REGICIDE. Edited from the Original MSS. of Sergent Marceau, Member of the Convention, and Administrator of Police in the French Revolution of 1789. By M. C. M. Simpson. With Illustrations and Portraits. Demy 8vo, 14s.
RUSSIAN ART AND ART OBJECTS IN RUSSIA. A Handbook to the Reproduction of Goldsmith's Work and Other Art Treasures. With Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, 4s. 6d.
IVORIES: ANCIENT AND MEDIÆVAL. With numerous Woodcuts. Large crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
HANDBOOK TO THE DYCE AND FORSTER COLLECTIONS. With Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
LIFE IN ANCIENT EGYPT AND ASSYRIA. Translated by A. P. Morton. With 188 Illustrations. Third Thousand. Crown 8vo, 5s.
(For List of Works see page 16.)
ADVANCED PHYSIOGRAPHY (PHYSIOGRAPHIC ASTRONOMY). Designed to meet the Requirements of Students preparing for the Elementary and Advanced Stages of Physiography in the Science and Art Department Examinations, and as an Introduction to Physical Astronomy. Crown 8vo, 4s. 6d.
ELEMENTARY PHYSIOGRAPHIC ASTRONOMY. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
ALTERNATIVE ELEMENTARY PHYSICS. Crown 8vo, 1s. 6d.
QUANTITATIVE ANALYSIS (INTRODUCTORY LESSONS ON). With numerous Woodcuts. Crown 8vo, 1s. 6d.
HANDBOOK OF QUANTITATIVE ANALYSIS. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
THE EMANCIPATION OF SOUTH AMERICA. Being a Condensed Translation, by William Pilling, of "The History of San Martin." With Maps. Demy 8vo, 12s.
HISTORY OF ENGLAND FROM THE YEAR 1830 TO THE RESIGNATION OF THE GLADSTONE MINISTRY, 1874. Twelfth Thousand. 3 vols. Crown 8vo, 18s.
ABRIDGED EDITION. Large crown, 7s. 6d.
CONGO FREE STATE AND ITS BIG GAME SHOOTING, TRAVEL AND ADVENTURES. Illustrated from the Author's sketches. Demy 8vo. [In the Press.
GLASS. With numerous Woodcuts. Large crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
THE VICTORIES OF THE BRITISH ARMY IN THE PENINSULA AND THE SOUTH OF FRANCE from 1808 to 1814. An Epitome of Napier's History of the Peninsular War, and Gurwood's Collection of the Duke of Wellington's Despatches. Crown 8vo, 5s.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE PRINCIPAL NATURAL ORDERS OF THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM, prepared for the Science and Art Department of Council of Education. With 109 Coloured Plates by W. H. Fitch, F.L.S. New Edition. Royal 8vo, 16s.