"Them palpable to touch and view."

I have "tinkered" it by adding the two syllables "and clear" to make the line complete.

In writing this sonnet Butler was no doubt thinking of a note he made in 1891:

"It is often said that there is no bore like a clever bore. Clever people are always bores and always must be. That is, perhaps, why Shakespeare had to leave London—people could not stand him any longer."

xiv. The Life after Death

Butler began to write sonnets in 1898 when he was studying those of Shakespeare on which he published a book in the following year. (Shakespeare's Sonnets Reconsidered, &c.) He had gone to Flushing by himself and on his return wrote to me:

24 Aug. 1898. "Also at Flushing I wrote one myself, a poor innocent thing, but I was surprised to find how easily it came; if you like it I may write a few more."

The "poor innocent thing" was the sonnet beginning "Not on sad Stygian shore," the first of those I have grouped under the heading "The Life after Death." It appears in his notebooks with this introductory sentence:

"Having now learned Shakespeare's Sonnets by heart—and there are very few which I do not find I understand the better for having done this—on Saturday night last at the Hotel Zeeland at Flushing, finding myself in a meditative mood, I wrote the following with a good deal less trouble than I anticipated when I took pen and paper in hand. I hope I may improve it."

Of course I liked the sonnet very much and he did write "a few more"- -among them the two on Handel which I have put after "Not on sad Stygian shore" because he intended that they should follow it. I am sure he would have wished this volume to close with these three sonnets, especially because the last two of them were inspired by Handel, who was never absent from his thoughts for long. Let me conclude these introductory remarks by reproducing a note made in 1883:

"Of all dead men Handel has had the largest place in my thoughts. In fact I should say that he and his music have been the central fact in my life ever since I was old enough to know of the existence of either life or music. All day long—whether I am writing or painting or walking, but always—I have his music in my head; and if I lose sight of it and of him for an hour or two, as of course I sometimes do, this is as much as I do. I believe I am not exaggerating when I say that I have never been a day since I was 13 without having Handel in my mind many times over."

i—Translation from an Unpublished Work of Herodotus

And the Johnians practise their tub in the following manner: —They select 8 of the most serviceable freshmen and put these into a boat and to each one of them they give an oar; and, having told them to look at the backs of the men before them, they make them bend forward as far as they can and at the same moment, and, having put the end of the oar into the water, pull it back again in to them about the bottom of the ribs; and, if any of them does not do this or looks about him away from the back of the man before him, they curse him in the most terrible manner, but if he does what he is bidden they immediately cry out:

"Well pulled, number so-and-so."

For they do not call them by their names but by certain numbers, each man of them having a number allotted to him in accordance with his place in the boat, and the first man they call stroke, but the last man bow; and when they have done this for about 50 miles they come home again, and the rate they travel at is about 25 miles an hour; and let no one think that this is too great a rate for I could say many other wonderful things in addition concerning the rowing of the Johnians, but if a man wishes to know these things he must go and examine them himself. But when they have done they contrive some such a device as this, for they make them run many miles along the side of the river in order that they may accustom them to great fatigue, and many of them, being distressed in this way, fall down and die, but those who survive become very strong and receive gifts of cups from the others; and after the revolution of a year they have great races with their boats against those of the surrounding islanders, but the Johnians, both owing to the carefulness of the training and a natural disposition for rowing, are always victorious. In this way, then, the Johnians, I say, practise their tub.

ii—The Shield of Achilles—With Variations

And in it he placed the Fitzwilliam and King's College Chapel and the lofty towered church of the Great Saint Mary, which looketh towards the Senate House, and King's Parade and Trumpington Road and the Pitt Press and the divine opening of the Market Square and the beautiful flowing fountain which formerly Hobson laboured to make with skilful art; him did his father beget in the many-public-housed Trumpington from a slavey mother and taught him blameless works; and he, on the other hand, sprang up like a young shoot and many beautifully matched horses did he nourish in his stable, which used to convey his rich possessions to London and the various cities of the world; but oftentimes did he let them out to others and whensoever any one was desirous of hiring one of the long-tailed horses he took them in order, so that the labour was equal to all, wherefore do men now speak of the choice of the renowned Hobson. And in it he placed the close of the divine Parker, and many beautiful undergraduates were delighting their tender minds upon it playing cricket with one another; and a match was being played and two umpires were quarrelling with one another; the one saying that the batsman who was playing was out and the other declaring with all his might that he was not; and while they two were contending, reviling one another with abusive language, a ball came and hit one of them on the nose and the blood flowed out in a stream and darkness was covering his eyes, but the rest were crying out on all sides:

"Shy it up."

And he could not; him, then, was his companion addressing with scornful words:

"Arnold, why dost thou strive with me since I am much wiser? Did not I see his leg before the wicket and rightly declare him to be out? Thee, then, has Zeus now punished according to thy deserts and I will seek some other umpire of the game equally-participated-in-by-both- sides."

And in it he placed the Cam and many boats equally rowed on both sides were going up and down on the bosom of the deep rolling river and the coxswains were cheering on the men, for they were going to enter the contest of the scratchean fours; and three men were rowing together in a boat, strong and stout and determined in their hearts that they would either first break a blood vessel or earn for themselves the electroplated-Birmingham-manufactured magnificence of a pewter to stand on their ball tables in memorial of their strength, and from time to time drink from it the exhilarating streams of beer whensoever their dear heart should compel them; but the fourth was weak and unequally matched with the others and the coxswain was encouraging him and called him by name and spake cheering words:

"Smith, when thou hast begun the contest, be not flurried nor strive too hard against thy fate, look at the back of the man before thee and row with as much strength as the Fates spun out for thee on the day when thou fellest between the knees of thy mother, neither lose thine oar, but hold it tight with thy hands."

iii—The Two Deans

Scene: The Court of St. John's College, Cambridge. Enter the two deans on their way to morning chapel.

JUNIOR DEAN: Brother, I am much pleased with Samuel Butler, I have observed him mightily of late; Methinks that in his melancholy walk And air subdued when'er he meeteth me Lurks something more than in most other men.

SENIOR DEAN: It is a good young man. I do bethink me That once I walked behind him in the cloister, He saw me not, but whispered to his fellow: "Of all men who do dwell beneath the moon I love and reverence most the senior Dean."

JUNIOR DEAN: One thing is passing strange, and yet I know not How to condemn it; but in one plain brief word He never comes to Sunday morning chapel. Methinks he teacheth in some Sunday school, Feeding the poor and starveling intellect With wholesome knowledge, or on the Sabbath morn He loves the country and the neighbouring spire Of Madingley or Coton, or perchance Amid some humble poor he spends the day Conversing with them, learning all their cares, Comforting them and easing them in sickness. Oh 'tis a rare young man!

SENIOR DEAN: I will advance him to some public post, He shall be chapel clerk, some day a fellow, Some day perhaps a Dean, but as thou sayst He is indeed an excellent young man -

Enter Butler suddenly without a coat, or anything on his head, rushing through the cloisters, bearing a cup, a bottle of cider, four lemons, two nutmegs, half a pound of sugar and a nutmeg grater.

Curtain falls on the confusion of Butler and the horror-stricken dismay of the two deans.

iv—On the Italian Priesthood

(Con arte e con inganno, si vive mezzo l'anno; Con inganno e con arte, si vive l'altra parte.)

In knavish art and gathering gear They spend the one half of the year; In gathering gear and knavish art They somehow spend the other part.

v—A Psalm of Montreal

The City of Montreal is one of the most rising and, in many respects, most agreeable on the American continent, but its inhabitants are as yet too busy with commerce to care greatly about the masterpieces of old Greek Art. In the Montreal Museum of Natural History I came upon two plaster casts, one of the Antinous and the other of the Discobolus—not the good one, but in my poem, of course, I intend the good one—banished from public view to a room where were all manner of skins, plants, snakes, insects, etc., and, in the middle of these, an old man stuffing an owl.

"Ah," said I, "so you have some antiques here; why don't you put them where people can see them?"

"Well, sir," answered the custodian, "you see they are rather vulgar."

He then talked a great deal and said his brother did all Mr. Spurgeon's printing.

The dialogue—perhaps true, perhaps imaginary, perhaps a little of the one and a little of the other—between the writer and this old man gave rise to the lines that follow:

Stowed away in a Montreal lumber room The Discobolus standeth and turneth his face to the wall; Dusty, cobweb-covered, maimed and set at naught, Beauty crieth in an attic and no man regardeth: O God! O Montreal!

Beautiful by night and day, beautiful in summer and winter, Whole or maimed, always and alike beautiful - He preacheth gospel of grace to the skin of owls And to one who seasoneth the skins of Canadian owls: O God! O Montreal!

When I saw him I was wroth and I said, "O Discobolus! Beautiful Discobolus, a Prince both among gods and men! What doest thou here, how camest thou hither, Discobolus, Preaching gospel in vain to the skins of owls?" O God! O Montreal!

And I turned to the man of skins and said unto him, "O thou man of skins, Wherefore hast thou done thus to shame the beauty of the Discobolus?" But the Lord had hardened the heart of the man of skins And he answered, "My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon." O God! O Montreal!

"The Discobolus is put here because he is vulgar - He has neither vest nor pants with which to cover his limbs; I, Sir, am a person of most respectable connections My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon." O God! O Montreal!

Then I said, "O brother-in-law to Mr. Spurgeon's haberdasher, Who seasonest also the skins of Canadian owls, Thou callest trousers 'pants,' whereas I call them 'trousers,' Therefore thou art in hell-fire and may the Lord pity thee!" O God! O Montreal!

"Preferrest thou the gospel of Montreal to the gospel of Hellas, The gospel of thy connection with Mr. Spurgeon's haberdashery to the gospel of the Discobolus?" Yet none the less blasphemed he beauty saying, "The Discobolus hath no gospel, But my brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon." O God! O Montreal!

vi—The Righteous Man

The righteous man will rob none but the defenceless, Whatsoever can reckon with him he will neither plunder nor kill; He will steal an egg from a hen or a lamb from an ewe, For his sheep and his hens cannot reckon with him hereafter - They live not in any odour of defencefulness: Therefore right is with the righteous man, and he taketh advantage righteously, Praising God and plundering.

The righteous man will enslave his horse and his dog, Making them serve him for their bare keep and for nothing further, Shooting them, selling them for vivisection when they can no longer profit him, Backbiting them and beating them if they fail to please him; For his horse and his dog can bring no action for damages, Wherefore, then, should he not enslave them, shoot them, sell them for vivisection?

But the righteous man will not plunder the defenceful - Not if he be alone and unarmed—for his conscience will smite him; He will not rob a she-bear of her cubs, nor an eagle of her eaglets - Unless he have a rifle to purge him from the fear of sin: Then may he shoot rejoicing in innocency—from ambush or a safe distance; Or he will beguile them, lay poison for them, keep no faith with them; For what faith is there with that which cannot reckon hereafter, Neither by itself, nor by another, nor by any residuum of ill consequences? Surely, where weakness is utter, honour ceaseth.

Nay, I will do what is right in the eye of him who can harm me, And not in those of him who cannot call me to account. Therefore yield me up thy pretty wings, O humming-bird! Sing for me in a prison, O lark! Pay me thy rent, O widow! for it is mine. Where there is reckoning there is sin, And where there is no reckoning sin is not.

vii—To Critics and Others

O Critics, cultured Critics! Who will praise me after I am dead, Who will see in me both more and less than I intended, But who will swear that whatever it was it was all perfectly right: You will think you are better than the people who, when I was alive, swore that whatever I did was wrong And damned my books for me as fast as I could write them; But you will not be better, you will be just the same, neither better nor worse, And you will go for some future Butler as your fathers have gone for me. Oh! How I should have hated you!

But you, Nice People! Who will be sick of me because the critics thrust me down your throats, But who would take me willingly enough if you were not bored about me, Or if you could have the cream of me—and surely this should suffice: Please remember that, if I were living, I should be upon your side And should hate those who imposed me either on myself or others; Therefore, I pray you, neglect me, burlesque me, boil me down, do whatever you like with me, But do not think that, if I were living, I should not aid and abet you. There is nothing that even Shakespeare would enjoy more than a good burlesque of Hamlet.

viii—For Narcissus

(A)

(To be written in front of the orchestral score.)

May he be damned for evermore Who tampers with Narcissus' score; May he by poisonous snakes be bitten Who writes more parts than what we've written. We tried to make our music clear For those who sing and those who hear, Not lost and muddled up and drowned In over-done orchestral sound; So kindly leave the work alone Or do it as we want it done.

(B)

Part II

Symphony

(During which the audience is requested to think as follows:)

An aged lady taken ill Desires to reconstruct her will; I see the servants hurrying for The family solicitor; Post-haste he comes and with him brings The usual necessary things. With common form and driving quill He draws the first part of the will, The more sonorous solemn sounds Denote a hundred thousand pounds, This trifle is the main bequest, Old friends and servants take the rest. 'Tis done! I see her sign her name, I see the attestors do the same. Who is the happy legatee? In the next number you will see.

ix—A Translation

(Attempted in consequence of a challenge.)

"'Mrs. Harris,' I says to her, 'dont name the charge, for if I could afford to lay all my feller creeturs out for nothink I would gladly do it; sich is the love I bear 'em. But what I always says to them as has the management of matters, Mrs. Harris,'"—here she kept her eye on Mr. Pecksniff—"'be they gents or be they ladies—is, Dont ask me whether I wont take none, or whether I will, but leave the bottle on the chimley piece, and let me put my lips to it when I am so dispoged.'" (Martin Chuzzlewit, Chap. XIX).

[Translation in Greek]

x—In Memoriam

Feb. 14th, 1895

To

H. R. F.

Out, out, out into the night, With the wind bitter North East and the sea rough; You have a racking cough and your lungs are weak, But out, out into the night you go, So guide you and guard you Heaven and fare you well!

We have been three lights to one another and now we are two, For you go far and alone into the darkness; But the light in you was stronger and clearer than ours, For you came straighter from God and, whereas we had learned, You had never forgotten. Three minutes more and then Out, out into the night you go, So guide you and guard you Heaven and fare you well!

Never a cross look, never a thought, Never a word that had better been left unspoken; We gave you the best we had, such as it was, It pleased you well, for you smiled and nodded your head; And now, out, out into the night you go, So guide you and guard you Heaven and fare you well!

You said we were a little weak that the three of us wept, Are we then weak if we laugh when we are glad? When men are under the knife let them roar as they will, So that they flinch not. Therefore let tears flow on, for so long as we live No such second sorrow shall ever draw nigh us, Till one of us two leaves the other alone And goes out, out, out into the night, So guard the one that is left, O God, and fare him well!

Yet for the great bitterness of this grief We three, you and he and I, May pass into the hearts of like true comrades hereafter, In whom we may weep anew and yet comfort them, As they too pass out, out, out into the night, So guide them and guard them Heaven and fare them well!

. . .

The minutes have flown and he whom we loved is gone, The like of whom we never again shall see; The wind is heavy with snow and the sea rough, He has a racking cough and his lungs are weak. Hand in hand we watch the train as it glides Out, out, out into the night. So take him into thy holy keeping, O Lord, And guide him and guard him ever, and fare him well!

xi—An Academic Exercise

We were two lovers standing sadly by While our two loves lay dead upon the ground; Each love had striven not to be first to die, But each was gashed with many a cruel wound. Said I: "Your love was false while mine was true." Aflood with tears he cried: "It was not so, 'Twas your false love my true love falsely slew - For 'twas your love that was the first to go." Thus did we stand and said no more for shame Till I, seeing his cheek so wan and wet, Sobbed thus: "So be it; my love shall bear the blame; Let us inter them honourably." And yet I swear by all truth human and divine 'Twas his that in its death throes murdered mine.

xii—A Prayer

Searcher of souls, you who in heaven abide, To whom the secrets of all hearts are open, Though I do lie to all the world beside, From me to these no falsehood shall be spoken. Cleanse me not, Lord, I say, from secret sin But from those faults which he who runs can see, 'Tis these that torture me, O Lord, begin With these and let the hidden vices be; If you must cleanse these too, at any rate Deal with the seen sins first, 'tis only reason, They being so gross, to let the others wait The leisure of some more convenient season; And cleanse not all even then, leave me a few, I would not be—not quite—so pure as you.

xiii—Karma

(A)

Who paints a picture, writes a play or book Which others read while he's asleep in bed O' the other side of the world—when they o'erlook His page the sleeper might as well be dead; What knows he of his distant unfelt life? What knows he of the thoughts his thoughts are raising, The life his life is giving, or the strife Concerning him—some cavilling, some praising? Yet which is most alive, he who's asleep Or his quick spirit in some other place, Or score of other places, that doth keep Attention fixed and sleep from others chase? Which is the "he"—the "he" that sleeps, or "he" That his own "he" can neither feel nor see?

(B)

What is't to live, if not to pull the strings Of thought that pull those grosser strings whereby We pull our limbs to pull material things Into such shape as in our thoughts doth lie? Who pulls the strings that pull an agent's hand, The action's counted his, so, we being gone, The deeds that others do by our command, Albeit we know them not, are still our own. He lives who does and he who does still lives, Whether he wots of his own deeds or no. Who knows the beating of his heart, that drives Blood to each part, or how his limbs did grow? If life be naught but knowing, then each breath We draw unheeded must be reckon'd death.

(C)

"Men's work we have," quoth one, "but we want them - Them, palpable to touch and clear to view." Is it so nothing, then, to have the gem But we must weep to have the setting too? Body is a chest wherein the tools abide With which the craftsman works as best he can And, as the chest the tools within doth hide, So doth the body crib and hide the man. Nay, though great Shakespeare stood in flesh before us, Should heaven on importunity release him, Is it so certain that he might not bore us, So sure but we ourselves might fail to please him? Who prays to have the moon full soon would pray, Once it were his, to have it taken away.

xiv—The Life After Death

(A)

[Greek text]

Not on sad Stygian shore, nor in clear sheen Of far Elysian plain, shall we meet those Among the dead whose pupils we have been, Nor those great shades whom we have held as foes; No meadow of asphodel our feet shall tread, Nor shall we look each other in the face To love or hate each other being dead, Hoping some praise, or fearing some disgrace. We shall not argue saying "'Twas thus" or "Thus," Our argument's whole drift we shall forget; Who's right, who's wrong, 'twill be all one to us; We shall not even know that we have met. Yet meet we shall, and part, and meet again, Where dead men meet, on lips of living men.

(B)

HANDEL

There doth great Handel live, imperious still, Invisible and impalpable as air, But forcing flesh and blood to work his will Effectually as though his flesh were there; He who gave eyes to ears and showed in sound All thoughts and things in earth or heaven above. From fire and hailstones running along the ground To Galatea grieving for her love; He who could show to all unseeing eyes Glad shepherds watching o'er their flocks by night, Or Iphis angel-wafted to the skies, Or Jordan standing as an heap upright - He'll meet both Jones and me and clap or hiss us Vicariously for having writ Narcissus.

(C)

HANDEL

Father of my poor music—if such small Offspring as mine, so born out of due time, So scorn'd, can be called fatherful at all, Or dare to thy high sonship's rank to climb - Best lov'd of all the dead whom I love best, Though I love many another dearly too, You in my heart take rank above the rest; King of those kings that most control me, you, You were about my path, about my bed In boyhood always and, where'er I be, Whate'er I think or do, you, in my head, Ground-bass to all my thoughts, are still with me; Methinks the very worms will find some strain Of yours still lingering in my wasted brain.



Footnotes



{16} "The doctrine preached by Weismann was that to start with the body and inquire how its characters got into the germ was to view the sequence from the wrong end; the proper starting point was the germ, and the real question was not 'How do the characters of the organism get into the germ-cell WHICH IT produces?' but 'How are the characters of an organism represented in the germ WHICH PRODUCES IT?' Or, as Samuel Butler has it, the proper statement of the relation between successive generations is not to say that a hen produces another hen through the medium of an egg, but to say that a hen is merely an egg's way of producing another egg." Breeding and the Mendelian Discovery, by A. D. Darbishire. Cassell & Co., 1911, p. 187-8.

"It has, I believe, been often remarked that a hen is only an egg's way of making another egg." Life and Habit, Trubner & Co., 1878, chapter viii, p. 134.

And compare the idea underlying "The World of the Unborn" in Erewhon.

{26} The two chapters entitled "The Rights of Animals" and "The Rights of Vegetables" appeared first in the new and revised edition of Erewhon 1901 and form part of the additions referred to in the preface to that book.

{30} On the Alps It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh, Which some did die to look on: and all this - It wounds thine honour that I speak it now - Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek So much as lank'd not.—Ant. & Cleop., I. iv. 66-71.

{31} Walks in the Regions of Science and Faith, by Harvey Goodwin, D.D., Lord Bishop of Carlisle. John Murray, 1883.

{32a} This quotation occurs on the title page of Charles Dickens and Rochester by Robert Langton. Chapman & Hall, 1880. Reprinted with additions from the Papers of the Manchester Literary Club, Vol. VI, 1880. But the italics are Butler's.

{32b} This is Butler's note as he left it. He made it just about the time he hit upon the theory that the Odyssey was written by a woman. If it had caught his eye after that theory had become established in his mind, he would have edited it so as to avoid speaking of Homer as the author of the poem.

{41} Life and Habit is dated 1878, but it actually appeared on Butler's birthday, 4th December, 1877.

{92} The five notes here amalgamated together into "Croesus and his Kitchen-Maid" were to have been part of an article for the Universal Review, but, before Butler wrote it, the review died. I suppose, but I do not now remember, that the article would have been about Mind and Matter or Organs and Tools, and, possibly, all the concluding notes of this group, beginning with "Our Cells," would have been introduced as illustrations.

{106} Cf. the note "Reproduction," p. 16 ante.

{107} Evolution Old & New, p. 77.

{128} Twelve Voluntaries and Fugues for the Organ or Harpsichord with Rules for Tuning. By the celebrated Mr. Handel. Butler had a copy of this book and gave it to the British Museum (Press Mark, e. 1089). We showed the rules to Rockstro, who said they were very interesting and probably authentic; they would tune the instrument in one of the mean tone temperaments.

{131} Mr. Kemp lived in Barnard's Inn on my staircase. He was in the box-office at Drury Lane Theatre. See a further note about him on p. 133 post.

{136} If I remember right, the original Jubilee sixpence had to be altered because it was so like a half-sovereign that, on being gilded, it passed as one.

{147} Raffaelle's picture "The Virgin and child attended by S. John the Baptist and S. Nicholas of Bari" (commonly known as the "Madonna degli Ansidei"), No. 1171, Room VI in the National Gallery, London, was purchased in 1885. Butler made this note in the same year; he revised the note in 1897 but, owing to changes in the gallery and in the attributions, I have found it necessary to modernise his descriptions of the other pictures with gold thread work so as to make them agree with the descriptions now (1912) on the pictures themselves.

{151} Cf. the passage in Alps and Sanctuaries, chapter XIII, beginning "The question whether it is better to abide quiet and take advantages of opportunities that come or to go further afield in search of them is one of the oldest which living beings have had to deal with. . . . The schism still lasts and has resulted in two great sects—animals and plants."

{153} Prince was my cat when I lived in Barnard's Inn. He used to stray into Mr. Kemp's rooms on my landing (see p. 131 ante). Mrs. Kemp's sister brought her child to see them, and the child, playing with Prince one day, made a discovery and exclaimed:

"Oh! it's got pins in its toes."

Butler put this into The Way of all Flesh.

{162} Philippians i. 15-18:-

Some indeed preach Christ even of envy and strife; and some also of good will:

The one preach Christ of contention, not sincerely, supposing to add affliction to my bonds:

But the other of love, knowing that I am set for the defence of the gospel.

What then? notwithstanding, every way, whether in pretence, or in truth, Christ is preached; and I therein do rejoice, yea, and will rejoice.

{176} Narcissus, "Should Riches mate with Love."

{235} Butler gave this as a subject to Mr. E. P. Larken who made it into a short story entitled "The Priest's Bargain," which appeared in the Pall Mall Magazine, May, 1897.

{203} All things have I seen in the days of my vanity: there is a just man that perisheth in his righteousness, and there is a wicked man that prolongeth his life in his wickedness.

Be not righteous over much; neither make thyself over wise: why shouldest thou destroy thyself?

Be not over much wicked, neither be thou foolish: why shouldest thou die before thy time? (Eccles. vii. 15, 16, 17).

{204} Cf. "Imaginary Worlds," p. 233 post.

{225} "So, again, it is said that when Andromeda and Perseus had travelled but a little way from the rock where Andromeda had so long been chained, she began upbraiding him with the loss of her dragon who, on the whole, she said, had been very good to her. The only things we really hate are unfamiliar things." Life & Habit, Chapter viii, p. 138/9.

{251} This note is one of those that appeared in the New Quarterly Review. The Hon. Mrs. Richard Grosvenor did not see it there, but a few years later I lent her my copy. She wrote to me 31 December, 1911.

"The notes are delightful. By the way I can add to one. When Mr. Butler came to tell me he was going to stay with Dr. Creighton, he told me that Alfred had decided he might go on finding the little flake of tobacco in the letter. Then he asked me if I would lend him a prayer-book as he thought the bishop's man ought to find one in his portmanteau when he unpacked, the visit being from a Saturday to Monday. I fetched one and he said:

"'Is it cut?'"

{261} "Ramblings in Cheapside" in Essays on Life, Art and Science.

{263} Edmund Gurney, author of The Power of Sound, and Secretary of the Society for Psychical Research.

{279} Cf. Wamba's explanation of the Saxon swine being converted into Norman pork on their death. Ivanhoe, Chap. I.

{282} See "A Medieval Girl School" in Essays on Life, Art & Science.

{333} "Above all things, let no unwary reader do me the injustice of believing in ME. In that I write at all I am among the damned. If he must believe in anything, let him believe in the music of Handel, the painting of Giovanni Bellini, and in the thirteenth chapter of St. Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians" (Life and Habit, close of chapter II).

{343} "No one can hate drunkenness more than I do, but I am confident the human intellect owes its superiority over that of the lower animals in great measure to the stimulus which alcohol has given to imagination—imagination being little else than another name for illusion" (Alps and Sanctuaries, chapter III).

{364} There are letters from these people in The Life and Letters of Dr. Samuel Butler.

{369} Butler made this note in 1899 before the publication of Shakespeare's Sonnets Reconsidered, which was published in the same year. The Odyssey Rendered info English Prose appeared in 1900 and Erewhon Revisited, the last book published in his lifetime, in 1901. He made no analysis of the sales of these three books, nor of the sales of A First Year in Canterbury Settlement published in 1863, nor of his pamphlet The Evidence for the Resurrection, published in 1865. The Way of all Flesh and Essays on Life, Art, and Science were not published till after his death. I do not know what he means by A Book of Essays, unless it may be that he incurred an outlay of 3 pounds 11s. 9d. in connection with a projected republication of his articles in the Universal Review or of some of his Italian articles about the Odyssey.

{376} Butler had two separate grounds of complaint against Charles Darwin, one scientific, the other personal. With regard to the personal quarrel some facts came to light after Butler's death and the subject is dealt with in a pamphlet entitled Charles Darwin and Samuel Butler: A Step towards Reconciliation, by Henry Festing Jones (A. C. Fifield, 1911).

THE END