It is a pleasure to turn to the essayists and writers of the Augustan age, whose works are reviewed by Mr. Gosse in two pleasant chapters with the misleading titles "Swift and the Deists" and "Defoe and the Essayists." The first of these is almost entirely occupied with an admirable sketch of Swift and his writings; and notwithstanding the short space at his disposal, Mr. Gosse has given one of the best critical memoirs of the famous dean which have yet come to our notice. It is hardly necessary to allude to an error in the dates of the birth and death of Stella, but we must point out a curious slip in the description of the Bickerstaff pamphlets. We entirely share Mr. Gosse's appreciation of the humour and genuine wit of these amusing productions, but we cannot understand the statement that "the greatresult of this astrological absurdity was the foundation of the Tatler." Steele in publishing the Tatler borrowed (with Swift's approval) the pseudonym of Bickerstaff, which had been so successful on a former occasion; but there was no similarity or connexion between the periodical and the Bickerstaff pamphlets, and we doubt if Steele had anything to do with the latter. It is rather surprising, it may be added, that Mr. Gosse has not noticed that in 'An Argument against Abolishing Christianity,' one of Swift's most characteristic pieces, the treatment of the subject is clearly suggested by Defoe's 'The Shortest Way with Dissenters,' but this is a matter of no great moment. An error of more importance is committed by Mr. Gosse when he asserts that Bentley's reply to Boyle convinced the public of the spuriousness of the 'Epistles of Phalaris.' Mr. Jebb has proved that the true view only slowly gained acceptance even among professed scholars.

The short description of the witty and indolent Arbuthnot, "the man who could do everything but walk," is decidedly happy, and we should be glad if Mr. парру Gosse had indulged his wish to loiter longer in such good company. Scant justice, however, is meted out to Arbuthnot's friend Bolingbroke, and many readers of the volume will learn with surprise that the author of the 'Letters on History' and The Idea of a Patriot King' wrote in "slipshod" English. The study of Defoe's writings, on the other hand, is an excellent piece of criticism. In speaking of the romances, "written always in the style of a publicist," Mr. Gosse remarks that although Defoe has been always considered as a realist of great power his realism is seldom antiquarian. His heroes and heroines, to whatever epoch they belong, are always purely eighteenth century personages, and we may add that, even when he is writing about his own times, he is too careless to make his descriptions accurate. This has been recently proved by Col. Parnell's 'War of the Succession in Spain' in the appendix on Capt. Carleton's 'Memoirs.' The genuineness of these 'Memoirs' has been long a matter of controversy, but, as was pointed out in our impression of August 25th, 1888, Col. Parnell's researches have made it almost impossible to accept the 'Memoirs' as authentic history. In the War Office lists of the regiments in which Capt. Carleton is sup

appear, and these regiments, moreover, were not present at actions in which they are stated to have been engaged. A very little trouble on Defoe's part, if, as we believe, he was the author of the book, would have enabled him to make the details exact.

With the remarks on Steele and Addison we are generally in accord, and we agree that neither of these writers can be placed "at the summit of the literary life of their day." It may, too, be correct that the Tatler and Spectator still "hold an extraordinary place in the affections of Englishmen," but the admiration of these famous essays in the present day appears to be rather academic. Addison was not, as here stated, the inventor of Sir Roger de Coverley. The first sketch of this character was by Steele, though the finished portrait owes much to Addison.

There are two more chapters given to the writers of prose, "Johnson and the Philosophers" and the "Prose of the Decadence." The memoir of Johnson is almost as good as that of Swift, though a wrong impression is conveyed of Johnson's zest for "political pamphleteering." "Having once plunged into the giddy waters of political pamphleteering," we are told, the old Tory veteran could not induce himself to withdraw." Johnson never willingly took up his pen, and was always glad to lay it aside. The composition of his political tracts was particularly distasteful to him, and his motive for writing them is very well known. Mr. Gosse is not justified in stating that the "indignant Thales" of Johnson's 'London' is "usually recognized as Savage." It must always be a doubtful question, but the person alluded to is probably Steele. To the "Prose Writers of the Decadence," as they are here called, we can only briefly allude. Mr. Gosse's short notice of Goldsmith is delightful, and he does well to point out that Goethe was one of the first critics to give the 'Vicar of Wakefield' its "full and unstinted measure of praise." This admiration was perfectly genuine, and has made the book known to many foreign readers who would otherwise perhaps never have heard of it. But Goethe's delight in the 'Vicar,' a delight which he retained to the end of his life, was in the first instance caused by the associations of his early days, which the story vividly recalled. Mr. Gosse has a good deal that is interesting to say about the novelists. He considers that the foundation of modern fiction was the most permanent work of the eighteenth century writers. He alludesbut too slightly, we think-to the part which some critics assign to Steele and Addison

as the real founders of the modern novel.

We must now glance at the pages which discuss the writers of poetry in the prosaic period between 1700 and 1780. Among these, we are told, Pope was "the greatest artist in verse, and perhaps the greatest poet." But in the consideration of Pope's works Mr. Gosse is not so successful as in other parts of the volume where much less

liantly polished, the limited field of burlesque never more brilliantly filled than by this little masterpiece in Dresden china." All this is quite true, but Mr. Gosse is needlessly distressed at Mr. Leslie Stephen calling the poem "wearisome" and "effete," and even venturing to reprove Pope's want of delicacy. But that critic, as we understand him, praises the piece almost as highly as Mr. Gosse himself. It is not the poem, but the heroic style, which Mr. Leslie Stephen calls "effete"; and some of Pope's allusions in the 'Rape of the Lock' certainly deserve reproof. The motto, which, we are told, is "a happy reminiscence of Martial," was an impertinence and an absurdity. It implied that the poem was written at Miss Fermor's request, but its acknowledged object was to appease her anger, and it is ridiculous to pretend that the lady herself should request a poem to be written for that purpose.

In the strictures on the 'New Dunciad' Mr. Gosse appears to have been inspired by the very critic with whom just before he was so indignant, and the poem is unjustly depreciated. The verse is forcible and melodious, and whatever blunders Pope may have made in referring to scholarship and science, no one was better informed about the passing events of the social world, and the attacks on the follies of that day are models of bright and effective satire. We cannot agree, moreover, with Mr. Gosse that Theobald, the original hero of the poem, deserves to be called a dunce. His edition of Shakspeare was by far the best of Pope's time; indeed, he was one of the ablest of Shakspearean editors, and his palmarian emendation of the passage in Henry V.' describing the death of Falstaff should make his name dear to all lovers of poetry. A little further on in the chapter we are told, as an undoubted fact, of the 1,000l. paid to Pope by the Duchess of Marlborough to suppress the character of Atossa. The story is an old one, but Mr. Gosse can hardly be aware that a copy of the edition of the Ethic Epistles,' printed during Pope's lifetime and ready for issue, was not many years ago discovered, and described in these columns. This volume contains the lines on Atossa, and in face of this evidence it is hardly possible to credit the old scandal. We hear, too, that Mr. Courthope's forthcoming Life of Pope' proves by evidence from the Blenheim MSS. that the accusation is groundless. Before concluding this notice we must refer to one more passage in the remarks on Pope. After the publication of the dialogues now known as the 'Epilogue to the Satires,' Pope wrote, we are told, "one more satire, 1740,' but wisely did not publish it." He certainly did wisely in not publishing it, as it was never finished, and, indeed, scarcely begun. It is a mere fragment of a design for a satire. Pope never wrote a line not intended for publication, and when he received a hint that the work on which he was engaged might get him into trouble, he at once put it

،

aside, though he utilized

one or two couplets for the 'New Dunciad.' appears nearly irresistible, and his enthusiasm is infectious. In fact, Eighteenth Century Literature' is far from being exclusively adapted to students. The criticisms are never tedious or dry, and the short biographies contain interesting personal details of writers some of whom are little known. We shall be surprised if the work is not as popular with the general public as with those who may claim a special knowledge of its subject.

The Last Voyage, to India and Australia, in the Sunbeam. By the late Lady Brassey. Illustrated by R. T. Pritchett and from Photographs. (Longmans & Co.)

THE warmest admirers of Lady Brassey's books will not assert that their great popularity is due to literary merit alone. Their popularity in truth is due to a combination of causes. There is first (and, we think, foremost) the sense of pleasure derived from a display of material resources almost as boundless as those of Oriental fiction, and directed with intelligence and energy; again, the reader is pleased by the frequent expression, no doubt sincere, of the writer's wish to share her good fortune-so far as this can be done by freely imparting her experiences with her less favoured fellow mortals; and he is further flattered and finally won over by the appeal to his sympathy implied in her confidentially imparting to him the simple, intimate details of their family life. The effect, too, of all this is heightened by the charm of the illustrations. Amid all these attractions, then, it is not clear whether, after all, the merits of the mere writing are as much appreciated as they deserve to be. They seem to consist mainly in a certain simplicity and unconscious directness. There is no superfluous verbiage, on the other hand there is much facility of expression, while an instinct for seizing on the salient and more telling incidents gives point and picturesqueness to the descriptive passages.

No critic will be insensible to the pathos which attaches to a book appearing under the circumstances of this last volume, nor to the natural impulse which would deal leniently with shortcomings; but it may be truly said that the book stands little in need of any such indulgence. The early part of the Indian journal, indeed, consists mainly of notes too short and concentrated to be of much interest, unless as showing incidentally-and viewed in relation to the sequel this has its melancholy side-how much hard work can be compressed into twenty-four hours by unlimited energy and skilful organization. But in the latter part of the journey through India, and in the Australian colonies, the writer's interest in her subject and powers of description show no sign of diminution or flagging, even to the very last chapter. Only the progress of the struggle with the inevitable is painfully marked by the increasingly frequent allusions to pain and weariness, alternating with feverish energy and with the record of expeditions which though the path was lavishly smoothed with the most ingenious care-would have been fatiguing even for persons in ordinary health. One matter which the writer had greatly at heart, and lost no opportunity during the journey of bringing forward, was

In Borneo the party made a long and arduous expedition, capitally described, to the famous bird's-nest caves, and also visited our new protégé, the Sultan of Brunei,

tainly the fame of the Sunbeam has, owing mainly to Lady Brassey's chronicle of its friends and acquaintances were found in every doings, a wide circulation; accordingly, port, and colonial governors, Malay sultans, volunteer corps, mayors and corporations, vied with each other in their cordial reception of her. In every port, especially in Australia, streams of visitors invaded the yacht, and within the bounds of the possible were hospitably entertained. No doubt there were some compensations for this trouble. At Moulmein

we found the deck, as usual when we are about to leave a port, cumbered by an incon

venient crowd of unwelcome visitors, consisting in the present instance of dhobis, gharrywallahs, hotel people, and loafers and idlers generally, all of whom we at once proceeded to get rid of as soon as possible. Among the authorized visitors were the servants of some of our friends on shore, who had kindly sent us parting presents fruit, jams, curries, curios,

and the most lovely orchids, the latter in such profusion that they were suspended all along the boom, causing the quarter-deck to look more like one of Mr. Bull's orchid exhibitions than part of a vessel. We photographed some of them with great success, and with our gods from the caves in the background, they will make an effective picture."

Perhaps the most enjoyable and not the least interesting part of the voyage was while sailing in the tropical seas of India and the Malay islands. Here we still have touches of the old sense of tranquil happiness, and satisfaction with the mere pleasure of existence, which, along with pictures of "our usual life-at-sea habits," characterized the former volumes :

"In the morning we go on deck at a very early hour, to enjoy the exquisite freshness of the dawn of the tropical day. Tom and the Doctor help to man the pumps, sometimes assisted by the children, who appear to like the work of scrubbing decks as much as they did in the old days of our first long voyage round the world. Then we are most of us hosed. An openciated anywhere so thoroughly as in these troair salt-water bath is a luxury not to be apprepical climates. After an early breakfast we settle down to our several occupations-the children to lessons, till it is time for sights to be taken and calculations made; Mr. Pritchett elaborates the sketches which he has made on shore during our recent wanderings; the Doctor makes himself generally useful, and has plenty of time to

devote to this benevolent work, for at present

"an ugly, smiling, feeble old man......who received us affably......after which he ordered large wax candles to be placed in front of Tom and me, Tom's candle, however, being much the bigger of the two. This was intended as a great scarce, the candles would, we were

informed, have been of even greater size." At Brunei, by the way, the visitors' list does not seem to have been restricted by any narrow, conventional limits :

"Some members of another tribe of Dyaks came on board to-day, with seven heads which they had

captured, not on the war path, but while engaged in a nominally peaceful expedition into the

jungle in search of gutta-percha, camphor, and beeswax. They had chanced to come across some natives belonging to a hostile tribe, and had promptly secured as many heads as they

could."

We, of course, assume that no overtures were made towards transferring this booty to the Sunbeam's miscellaneous collections! For, as on former voyages, the collection of curios of every kind, natural and manufactured, was still the ruling passion. Nothing stood in the way. Only on one occasion, after the purchase of some "small rhinoceros horns. considered to be worth their weight in gold," the next item, some beautiful pink-tipped pearl shells, was, "I am obliged to admit, frightfully expensive." The question sometimes suggests itself how, seeing that the Sunbeam has only a carrying capacity for coals of seventy tons, all these acquisitions could be stowed away. At all events, there is no doubt that the museum to be based on these collections will be of much value and interest.

The characteristic of Australian travelling which seems to have most impressed the writer was the danger from reckless driving and untrained horses. It may be thought that her enfeebled condition may have had something to do with this, but after the numerous critical situations she describes during her short stay, she could hardly have come to any other conclusion :

"I am not sure that I should enjoy my time in Australia so much if I had not a certain belief in kismet; for travelling out here is certainly very full of risk. What with unbroken horses, rickety carts, inexperienced drivers, rotten and ill-made harness put on the wrong way, bad roads, reckless driving, and a general total indifference to the safety of life and limb, a journey is always an exciting, and sometimes a risky, experience. A little excitement is all very well, but when it becomes absolutely dangerous, a little of it goes a long way. I dislike seeing a horse's hoofs quite close to my head, with a trace or two trailing in the dust, or to hear the ominous crack of splinter-bar bolt; yet these are things

drives."

hide-and-seek and romps during the short twilights until the dressing bell gives warning to prepare for dinner."

Lord Brassey's skill as a navigator receives naturally its due, but not undue, meed of praise; and off the Australian coasts, especially in Torres Straits, it was severely tested. The editorial work undertaken by Lady Broome appears to have been carried out with excellent judgment. A brief narrative of the last part of the voyage, i. e., from Darnley Island home vid the Cape, is contributed by Lord Brassey, and contains some interesting notices of the defensive capacities and value of St. Helena, Sierra Leone, and other points on the route. The illustrations, though of more than average merit, are hardly equal to those in the previous volumes. Still, the book before us is not unworthy to close a series which will be long remembered as having made for themselves a characteristic place among modern books of travel.

Chrosticle of King Henry VIII. of England: being a Contemporary Record of some of the Principal Events of the Reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VI. Written in Spanish by an Unknown Hand. Translated, with Notes and Introduction, by Martin A. Sharp Hume. (Bell & Sons.) THE work of which this is a translation first attracted attention in 1873, when the Marquis de Molins undertook to examine for the Madrid Academy of History a parchment MS. of the seventeenth century, bearing the title 'Cronica del Rey Enrico Octavo de Inglaterra.' He found it a narrative of considerable interest, extending not only over Henry VIII.'s reign, but to the execution of the Lord Admiral Seymour, three years after Henry's death. But before he had completed his report he was almost overwhelmed by the discovery of eleven other copies, all earlier in point of date, and some more interesting, especially as containing additional matter, several of them continuing the narrative to the execution of the Protector Somerset and of Paget, while some carried it down even into Mary's reign. The last addition, however, bore distinct evidence of coming from a very different pen, and it was determined to print the work without it.

duction of a man of letters at all. There is a total absence of literary art discernible from beginning to end, and a want of accuracy besides which can only have been due to carelessness. The author doubtless had some intention, when he began, of writing a connected narrative; but he has left nothing more than a set of reminiscences, sadly confused as to order and date, with strange unconscious anachronisms, and an occasional "By-the-by, I should have told you," or words to that effect, bringing back the story to a point which had been passed many chapters before. The style is more like that of a sailor's yarn or an old soldier's experiences written down to dictation than a regular literary composition; and among the various conjectures that have been hazarded as to the authorship, attributing it to a priest, a merchant, or a mercenary soldier in the service of England, there is a good deal of plausibility on other grounds in favour of the last, which is the hypothesis of the Marquis de Molins. Who else, indeed, but a mercenary soldier would have written after the death of Henry VIII., "Oh, what a good king! how liberal thou wert to every one, and particularly to Spaniards!" And yet, as Mr. Hume most justly remarks, it is difficult to attribute this sentiment to the writer who, in his previous pages, had recorded some of the most scurvy tricks of which royalty could well be conceived capable. Nay, he relates an act of meanness the most despicable on Henry's part, even towards a Spaniard-Francisco Felipe, the brave and loyal attendant on Queen Katha

rine, whom, after his mistress's death, he sent back to Spain without payment of his long arrears of wages.

The genuineness of the whole chronicle, if we were disposed to question it, seems almost sufficiently vouched for by the fact that passages like these often afford corroborative evidence of the accuracy of a writer who was yet careless enough, trusting merely to his memory, to make Henry VIII. marry Katharine Howard before he married Anne of Cleves, and to make Cromwell, who had been dead for nearly a year and a half, take the principal part, instead of Cranmer, in investigating Katharine Howard's guilt. Blunders like these do not in the least impair the value of the writer's testimony when he speaks as the only foreigner who managed to get into the Tower to see Anne Boleyn executed; for we know from other evidence that orders were given that no strangers

were to be admitted. Nor will the student of bygone usages doubt the truth of the following incident recorded of Thomas Cromwell, the King's Secretary and Lord Privy Seal, just before his arrest for high treason:

"As usual, they all went to the Parliament at Westminster, and when they came out and were going to the palace to dinner, the wind blew off the Secretary's bonnet, and it fell to the ground. The custom of the country is, when a gentleman loses his bonnet, for all those who are with him to doff theirs, but on this occasion, when Cromwell's bonnet blew off, all the other gentlemen kept theirs on their heads; which being noticed by him, he said, 'A high wind indeed must it have been to blow my bonnet off and keep all yours on."

This long-forgotten chronicle had been

succeeding its composition, for only had it been frequently copied, but it had been used by Father Rivadeneyra, the Jesuit historian, who transcribed

some

passages of it verbally in his history of

the Reformation; and Mr. Hume has been able to identify with great probability not

only the copy which the used, but even the very date-about thirty years before he wrote his history-when he first made acquaintance with the work. As to its authorship little is known, except that it was certainly written by a Spaniard who resided in London during the period treated of, and was an eye-witness of several of the events which he describes. Further information is, indeed, supplied

The Marquis de Molins thought he had identified the author with some degree of

not altogether unknown to history as a general in Philip II.'s service, whose earlier career in England (unsuspected hitherto) is described in the latter part of the work. But the conjecture, as Mr. Hume shows,

does not harmonize with many points of internal evidence; for it appears this cap

tain, far from being capable even of such literary composition as the present chronicle, was hardly able to write his own name, and the author, moreover, seems to have been an eye-witness of many remarkable scenes in England before Romero set foot in the country. For instance, his description leaves little room for doubting that he saw with his own eyes the procession of Anne Boleyn through the streets

weighed and taken for what it is worth. Indeed, we may venture upon the assertion that there are many cases where the evidence counts for very little as to the mere matter of fact, in which, nevertheless, it is well worthy of some consideration as reflect ing prejudices which are not those of

modern Protestants or Roman Catholics, and helping to elucidate a state of feeling which has long since passed away. But we trust that we have sufficiently indicated the general character of this little volume and the real interest of its contents to induce our readers to make acquaintance with it for

themselves.

early copy, in which it is attributed to "a Valencian man of letters," who came to England at the time of Henry VIII.'s

saw her beheaded in the Tower, when he says that only one foreigner managed to

Chaloner W. Chute, of the Vyne. Illustrated. (Winchester, Jacob & Johnson.)

the Spaniards who waited on Blackheath at he describes in like manner a thing which

long before most of the events took place

demnation, which there can be very little

readers of Walpole have pleasant recollec tions, and therefore they will be glad that a descendant of Chute, and the present owner of his house, has prepared this excellent book on aansien phich is fondly supposed to derive its picturesque name from the Roman Vindomis (Vini domus), contracted form in a deed of a. D. 1268, now preserved at the Vyne. In giving John Chute the entrance eagles whicsion he often visited, big stone which yet stand before the Walpole meant, no doubt, to refer to the

tive.

alleged Roman lineage of the estate. Among Other Roman remains a knight's ring of gold has been found close to the Vyne, and this ring, which is inscribed "Seniciane vivas IInde," has curious history at

a

tached to it. It must have been lost late in the Roman period of Britain, for at Lydney, in Gloucestershire, seventy miles from the Vyne, has been turned up a small leaden tablet of the fourth century A.D. advertising its loss, and "imprecating woe upon Senicianus until he should restore it." The matter is not quite clear, because, according to the tablet, one Silvianus claimed the trinket and invoked the British sea god Nodens against Senicianus, who is supposed to have borrowed or stolen a ring from Silvianus, and put his own name upon it.

But whatever the probability of the theory that identifies Vindomis and the Vyne, there is certainty that Ulveva held the place in fee when Domesday Book was compiled. The next record is the deed of foundation of a chantry chapel close to the present Vyne by John de Port of Basing, and William Fitz Adam, his tenant, not long before 1202, when the Bishop of Winchester confirmed the deed. The De Ports assumed

the name of St. John with the estates of an heiress of the latter race early in the thirteenth century; the place remained with them until it passed to the Cowdrays of Sussex, whose chief house stands in ruins near Midhurst. Sir Fulke de Cowdray leased the manor (then called Sherborne Cowdray) to Richard de Barton, Archdeacon of Winchester, in the twenty-fourth of Edward III. Then, by marriage, the Fyffhides entered upon possession of the estate, and in 1362 it seems to have been described as "a manor house of no value beyond the outgoings, and the advowson of the chapel. In 1386 the manor passed, again by marriage, to the Sandys family, and thenceforth resumed the name of the Vyne." So says Mr. Chute, and we trust he may be right, but there is no proof that it had ever before then been called the Vyne at all. The assumption that it was the ancient Vindomis is only a clever guess, nothing more. However, it was called the Vyne more than five hundred years ago, and this is something to boast of.

From the time of Richard II. till the Commonwealth the Vyne remained, with a partial break, in the possession of the Sandyses. Sir John Sandys obtained the Vyne by marrying Joanna Fyffhides; ; his son Sir Walter gave the

house to his daughter, another Joanna, on her marriage (c. 1420) with William Brocas, grandson of the famous Sir Bernard Brocas, Lord of Beaurepaire. William Brocas died 1456, and was buried at Sherborne Abbey. After his son's death the Vyne was "recovered" by Sir W. Sandys, grandson of Sir Walter above named, who was distinguished by Shakspeare as "exceeding mad in love." His son William was the first Lord Sandys of the Vyne (created 1523), K.G., Lord Chamberlain of the Household to Henry VIII., Captain of Guisnes, and Treasurer of Calais. He enlarged the Vyne, but it is doubtful if he can have had much aid from his father-inlaw, Sir Reginald Bray, who designed Henry VII.'s Chapel, and the greater part

of St. George's Chapel, Windsor, as Sir Reginald died in 1503. Lord Sandys was the third of the family mentioned by Shakspeare, who made him describe himself to Lord Worcester as "an honest country lord," and say to Anne Boleyn:--

If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
I had it from my father.

Disgusted by the anti-Papal proceedings of the king, Sandys retired from court, and seems to have intrigued to induce Charles V. to invade England, and until his death at Calais, December 4th, 1540, he kept aloof from the court. Nevertheless, Henry and Anne Boleyn were his guests at the Vyne. The inventory (1541) of his plate, linen, armour, horses, and furniture has lately been found at Belvoir, and is exceedingly curious. It shows that he had pawned his collar of the Garter for sixty pounds! The third Lord Sandys's wife was the "Fair Brydges" (born Chandos), whom Gascoigne praised in the best of his verses. This lord was succeeded in the Vyne by Col. Henry Sandys, mortally wounded at Alresford, fighting for Charles I. His son William sold the Vyne to Chaloner Chute, a successful Chancery barrister, and

died without issue in 1688.

It was the first Lord Sandys of the Vyne who somewhere about 1530 built the existing chapel, which Horace Walpole described to Mann as "the most heavenly Chapel in the World; it only wants a few pictures to give it a true Catholic air," which is not surprising considering that the building was not less than two centuries and a quarter old, that it had been built by a Roman Catholic peer, and had remained quite unaltered since his time. Walpole's notions of a chapel in heaven were, of course, not particularly ambitious or well defined. The inventory of its furniture in the first Lord Sandys's time, which this volume contains, affords ample evidence of its splendour in 1541. There were vestments of cloth of gold, of crimson and green velvets, while some of the orphreys were garnished with pearls, and there were other vestments of red satin and damask. The plate amounted to nearly seven hundred and thirty ounces. In the three Perpendicular windows above the altar, in stained glass of the fifteenth century, are represented, besides other subjects, Margaret, daughter of Henry VII., the king himself, and Elizabeth of York, all kneeling and attended by their tutelars. The chapel of the Vyne was deprived of its lands in 1548, but the Sandys family preserved the building, although they had already forgotten, or pretended to have forgotten, the name of its founder when the Certificates of Chantries described it, and its "ornaments and goods" were valued at two shillings!

The Vyne had the distinction of its name being inscribed on the Great Seal of England made by T. Simon in 1651, which bears on its obverse a map of Great Britain and Ireland, with the names of places of note; six only, including the seat of Chaloner Chute, belong to Hampshire. Chute became Speaker of the House of Commons, January 29th, 1659. He did not sit long, and being overcome with fatigue and anxiety he retired to Sutton Court, Chiswick, where he died in the same year.

Mr. Chaloner Chute traces the descent of the Chutes till he comes to John, the friend of Horace Walpole, Mann, and Gray. He was born in 1701, and succeeded to the estate in 1754. This brings us to a portion of the book which will commend it to a large class of readers. From the archives of the Vyne, Mr. Chaloner Chute has printed letters from Gray to John Chute: 1, dated September 7th, 1741; 2, May 24th, 1742; 3, October 25th, 1743; 4, July, 1745; 5, October, 1746; 6, the same month; 7, the same; 8, August 4th, 1755; 9, 1762. None of these letters is printed in Mitford's collection. More interesting still are two letters not before printed of Horace Walpole to John Chute. In the first of them Walpole congratulates his friend on succeeding as "the rich Chute of the Vyne," who had

"fat mares of your own and strong port of a thousand years old, got on purpose for you at Hackwood because you will have lent the Duke thirty thousand pounds. Oh, you will be insupportable, shan't you. I find I shall detest you. En attendant I do wish you joy. Yrs ever,

H. W."

At

These two letters from Walpole to Chute were well worth printing. It was not for everybody the lord of Strawberry reserved constantly a bedroom and his "College of Arms" in the tower. the Vyne Chute built a staircase (see plate ix.) the style and taste of which seem wonderfully like those of the similar structure, attributed to Inigo Jones (?), at Ashburnham House, Little Dean's Yard, Westminster.

After all this, need we thank Mr. Chaloner Chute for a model book, which is full of new things?

NOVELS OF THE WEEK.

For Faith and Freedom. By Walter Besant. 3 vols. (Chatto & Windus.)

Violet Vyvian, M.F.H. By May Crommelin and J. Moray Brown. 3 vols. (Hurst & Blackett.)

Esther Denison. By Adeline Sergeant. 3 vols. (Bentley & Son.)

One for the Other. By Esmè Stuart. 3 vols. (Ward & Downey.)

French Janet. By the Author of 'Citoyenne Jacqueline.' 2 vols. (Smith, Elder & Co.) Le Docteur Rameau. Par Georges Ohnet. (Paris, Ollendorff.)

MR. BESANT has availed himself in his For Faith and Freedom' of an episode which has been well utilized by romancers from Macaulay downwards; but it must be admitted that his story of Monmouth's rebellion and of the captivity of certain of his adherents on the isle of Barbadoes is written with much skill in the matter of style, and both in point of characters and incident is more readable than the average historical novel. The Challis family and their friends the Eykins are worthy representatives of the Puritanism of their day, not exaggerated specimens of bitter Dissent, but Protestant members of the Church of England, of that school which James II. soon afterwards found to be the most formidable opponents of his schemes of absolutism. The heroine's father is an exception, being a most uncompromising Independent divine. His daughter Alice is less a heroine than a saint, in both capacities most lovable, and tells her part of the strange experiences of her family