SCENE IV.

In the Hall of Magnitude. This, the most magnificent public building in Infantlonia, is packed from floor to ceiling with an immense crowd, all assembled to hear the proclamation of King Hector, proposing a new Constitution to his people, the repeal of old and effete laws, and the substitution in their place of laws suited to the immediate requirements of the times. It has been announced that Vergli, Prince of Scota, will be its mouthpiece, and the excitement and expectation of the vast throng is intense. Enter Vergli, attended by the Prince of Bernia and Vulnar, Lord of Avenamore, various high functionaries and friends, amongst whom are Maxim, Scrutus and Verita. A scene of wild enthusiasm greets him, and the welcome accorded him is unprecedented in the annals of Saxscoberland, as ever having been accorded to any other public favourite or prince of the Saxscober dynasty.

Vergli (raising his hand to command silence) exclaims: “To some men, moments come into their lives, Which toiling for, they little dreamt to see. Though I have toiled for Right, I never thought That I should see its triumph and behold Dawn breaking in upon the brains of men. I thought to sow good seed and see it root, But dared not hope to reap the golden grain. Yet lo! we stand with sickles in our hands, Ready to reap the produce of our toil. It seems quite wonderful, it seems a dream, Yet ’tis not so, my friends. See you this scroll, It is the message of my lord, the King, A message to his people far and wide, Wherever floats Saxscober’s crimson flag, There will these words be wafted to our kin, And indirectly through them to the world. It is my proud and honoured task to-day To be the mouthpiece of Saxscober’s King. Yet ere I read his words I fain would say They are an echo of another’s voice, Who pleaded hard to have them realized, And died to win the Cause of Right and Truth. Hector shall reign, but by his side shall reign The deathless voice which pleaded thus for them, While memory remains let none forget The glorious victory of Isola.”

Tumultuous cheering greets this assertion. When silence is restored, Vergli proceeds to read King Hector’s message to his people. It reads as follows:

“TO MY PEOPLE.

“We stand upon the meeting of two ways. One leads to Peace and Comfort, Right and Truth, The other to the very opposite. Which shall we take, my people, which pursue? I counsel that the first shall be our choice. Counselling this, I now propose to you, An altered and a higher constitution, A Magna Charter giving Human Rights, Not to a few, but unto ev’ryone, The fact of birth into this life, the sole, The only proof of right to such a claim, Shall be required, and opportunity To every human being shall be given To live, and thrive, and never be in want. The Slums of Infantlonia and elsewhere Must by the law become prohibited. All men must dwell in decent tenements, In towns there must be gardens for the people, Each child, no matter what its birth, shall learn To be a useful member of the state, By being taught a trade, of which it can Make choice itself approved of by its parents. When work is scarce, the State must give employment, Not the nigh penal work of the Poor House, But work where work shall be Co-operative, Men reaping as they sow, their proper share. Co-operative law must be the law, Wherever groups of human beings work, It is not right that one should benefit And on men’s toil become a millionaire, Reaping where others have not had a share Except in paltry doles, which we call wage. Vast ownership in land or property Should bear its duty of ‘wealth in excess,’ And be a taxable commodity. Wealth must contribute to the public good. A millionaire is an unjust creation, The base result of wasted human toil, The offspring of a living Man Machine, Made to produce this creature’s holiday. Co-operative law disgorges wealth And makes it useful and distributable, Men who grow rich upon excessive toil, And give not to that toil its proper share, Are Master Murderer millionaires, unfit To be the holders of this hoarded wealth, Which, miser-like, they neither spend nor share. Only one remedy can heal this sore, It is that which we call Co-operation. So long as angry Nations stand like dogs, Facing each other with their grinders showing, Saxscoberland must be prepared for war, And spend thereon, alas! much of its wealth, But, be it my Life’s task to advocate The institution of Appealing Courts, Where Arbitration shall decide disputes And deftly patch up human differences. If our Erth’s Governments would all agree To melt their armies and wage bloodless war In all things International; then war Could never raise its grinning head again, Starved by the disappearance of its food— The human flocks and herds we breed and raise, Fatten and decorate expensively, In order to provide this Monster’s feast. Be it my task to plead that he shall die, My people, help me to exterminate him. We are the greatest Nation on our Erth, Surely, if we are earnest in endeavour, We can accomplish this desired end? Co-operate with me and let us strive, And we shall be successful in the end. Now to the matter of our Government, Saxscober calls its ruler a Monarch. What’s in a word? A mere form of letters. Hereditary is this Monarchy, Yet we unjustly give the male first call And make the eldest male born our Monarch. This is unjust. While Primogeniture Is the acknowledged law of Saxscober, The heir shall be the eldest born, and sex Should not be made a Disinherited. Let this injustice be removed at once. And give each Sex equality of rights, Let law applying to all Succession Be altered to deny sex privilege— Which we so arrogantly arrogate. Another point connected with this matter Earnestly demands an alteration, Children should not usurp a parent’s power; Children should not stand in a parent’s place. The parents both should be the ruling pow’r, And so remain until Death takes them hence. ’Tis monstrous that a child should occupy The place that parent has a right to fill. Out on such partial, inconsiderate law, Born of immatured brains and puny thought. The King and Queen should both be reigning powers And the survivor hold the reins till death. This law, applying as it did of yore When William, Prince of Citron, was consort— And this law should apply to all Succession. Perish the unjust law which gives the child The right to occupy its parent’s place. This being so, let Monarchs have fair play— Let them be human beings not mere dolls, Let them have pow’r to vote and speak with you, Let them be otherwise than dressed-up shapes To be the objects of barbaric shows. Let the cheers greeting Monarchs be sincere, Given as to a fellow-worker, pray; Not to mute flesh and blood nonentities But part of an acting Constitution. Monarchs should not be absolute, but free, Co-operation be the principle. I counsel, too, the House of Bores should be Elective like the House of Commonpersons, And that no Righ or Ardrigh have a seat Claiming such as our Spiritual peers. This brings me to the matter of the Church And the religion which now reigns supreme. There should be no State Church, but liberty To every man to feel that his own creed Was not an outcast one and unendowed. Let conscience have its freedom and all creeds Be self-supporting, not ignored by State, While one alone is bolstered up as right. I counsel, therefore, Disestablishment; First giving compensation to the Clergy. Let all men pray in secret and display Fade, as should fade barbaric practices. Force not upon your Sovereigns the disgrace Of swearing false allegiance to a lie, What greater Moral crime than to exclaim ‘I do believe that which I don’t believe’? Is not such utterance a sacrilege? Away, my people, with the reign of Lie, Let Truth prevail, let Honest Truth be law. Another urgent law requires attention, The Marriage law I mean. Marriage should be The Act which makes the Man and Woman one, Accompanied by the solemn declaration ‘I am thy husband and thou art my wife,’ ‘I am thy wife and thou art my husband,’ Uttered in presence of two witnesses. This is the law of Scota and is fair, But Saxen law insists on marriage ties Being tied by its religious ceremony; Which makes the Woman utter slavish words, Which self-respecting women hate and loathe And some have absolutely scorned to say. My Merani refused to utter them And was, in consequence, adjudg’d unwed By the exacting laws of Saxenland. I say that she was wed by law of God, And, being wed, was lawfully my wife; The son she bore is Prince of Scota now, Made so by a late Act of Parliament, Specially drafted and passed into law At my most earnest prayer and intercession. It is my hope that our new Parliament Will sweep away every impediment To civil marriage, and destroy the law Which forces royalty to wed with such, Ordaining that the heir shall royal be. ’Tis an unnatural law and maketh sad The wedded life of many Sovereigns. In all we do let us be natural, Laws born of selfishness or ignorance Flout Nature and create unhappiness. Laws, to be fair, must recognise the fact That all men must have Opportunity, And none shall be a Disinherited. Parliament is dissolved and I appeal, With all my heart, unto my countrymen To give me unmistakable response That my desire for justice shall prevail. By law, my women subjects cannot vote, More shame to such a law is all I say; Next Parliament shall sweep that law away And give us one with equal rights for all. Capacity and Merit are the tests Of human fitness which should e’er prevail; Nature and circumstances will select The fittest to perform Life’s many functions, Seek not to force on women Motherhood— A vast mistake which breeds the puny Man. Some women are not fit to bear a child, Some men are unfit to be Sires at all; To breed unhealthy offspring is a Crime Which our religion has concealed from men. To bring disease into the world is bad, To force this on a child is a foul shame. It is a sacred trust which Nature gives, That trust of giving Life, and should command The reverence of those to whom ’tis giv’n; Let this be plainly taught to either sex, Bring up the sexes to respect each other. Give lessons in the schools how Health is made And how ’tis kept, and how it bringeth joy. When Men believe that sickness need not be, That human beings can be well and strong By living lives in keeping with good sense, A Nation of fair beings will arise With senses purified and thought increased— And knowledge drawing nearer day by day To those veiled secrets of the Universe Which we believe so foolishly are closed, And hidden mysteries for aye and aye; Hidden from feeble sight and clouded brain, From Thought as yet in an imperfect state, But when the Mind becomes a mighty pow’r Its eyes will penetrate the misty veil And clearly read what now it cannot do. Let education, therefore, elevate; Let it accomplish a vast revolution By giving children Nature’s noble truths, And focussing them on their pliant brains. Teach Kindness in the schools. Before all things Teach its vast virtue to the youthful mind. Let the religion taught, be just this thing Mingled with Justice, Fair Play and Sweet Love; Love to all things that feel and, like ourselves, Are sentient and possess the gift of Life. Perish, Cold Cruelty! the hugest bar To Progress and Perfection on this Erth. Thus, have I spoken to my countrymen, And ask them to return a Parliament Which shall not fear to work for Evolution; Strike down oppressive laws, creating those Which shall inaugurate The Golden Age Of Peace, Good Health and Happiness to all— That living Life for which Isola died.”

[Loud and prolonged cheers.

Vergli. “This is King Hector’s message, countrymen, In which the Spirit of Isola breathes— A Spirit whose chief element was love, Love the Creator of true happiness. Let this appeal go forth throughout the world And pierce into the brains and hearts of men. It shall prevail, because it is The Truth. It shall bear fruit, because it is pure seed. It shall establish its real Sovereignty, Because it is Reality not Sham. If all true hearts declare it shall prevail And work to bring about the Victory, That Victory will come with leaps and bounds, And bring rejoicing into ev’ry heart. Ah! yes, it will come. It was prophesied By lips whose last word echoed Victory, It was Isola’s message to the world Wherever moan The Disinherited. Arouse, ye Children of Saxscoberland, Hark to her Spirit speaking out aloud. The sound is Hector’s but his words are hers, His Message but the Echo of Isola’s.”

[As Vergli ceases speaking, the immense audience rises and cheers him again and again with intense enthusiasm. Acquiescence in the King’s wishes is carried unanimously, and the meeting comes to an end.

“RESULTANT.”

Once, long ago, Death came and took my soul And bore it far away through boundless space, And left Earth turning round within that space Moving along its path of Evolution. “Where takest thou me, Death?” my soul enquired. “To look on Life where perfect laws prevail,” Made answer he whom my Earth fears so much. And so I sped with Death on to a world Where everywhere Love and Delight prevailed. Death called it Erth. It was like my own Earth, And yet how different in every way. Everywhere Peace prevailed and Love enthralled, The Men were handsome and the Women fair. Bright fields of waving grain and fruits and flow’rs Made beautiful the human dwelling-places. There was no blood apparent anywhere— The moans of vivisected animals, The groans of millions slaughtered to make food, The awful cruelties of War and Strife, Had no existence on this planet Erth. Women and Men did not disgrace each other, But revelled in a sweet companionship, Sharing in all things as the sexes should. The children’s schools did not divide each sex But taught to both a pure and natural law, So that the very thought, in after-life, Of Prostitution had no place or part Within the brains of Nature’s true nurselings. Health was apparent in the multitude; Vast kitchens, groaning stomachs were unknown; Hunger alone proclaimed the feeding hour And pure and bloodless food gave sustenance, Partaken of in moderation and Never indulged in after hunger ceased. On Erth the secret of Real Health was known, To eat as Nature bade and not to gorge. And everywhere pure air prevailed and dwelt By night and day within a people’s lungs, And dwelling-places overlooked fair scenes, The people living on their own loved land And drawing from its nurture health and strength. There lived on this bright Erth a King and Queen Whose names were Escanior and Isola, Who loved each other, whom the people loved And who in turn truly loved their people. Said Death unto my Soul: “In ages past Thought woke the mind of Isola the first, She whom the Erthians call their deathless Queen, Because the Spirit which lit up her mind Lives on and permeates the whole of Erth. This Isola lived when this Erth was gross, Cruel and Sensual, and fed on lies. She, too, loved a fair youth—Escanior called— Whom uncouth men murdered before her eyes, Giving her to a King to be his slave, And hold degrading post as Consort Queen. But Isola’s spirit would not be a slave, And so with others she opposed foul Wrong And, dying for the Right, won the King’s heart To raise aloft the flag of Evolution. Rest here awhile and I will tell the tale Of how Isola lived, and ruled, and died; But lives again in the resultant thought Which found its birth in her evolving pow’r.” I sat and listened while Death told the tale, And learned how Erth had answered Hector’s prayer, And given him and Vergli, and Vulnar The pow’r to build on Erth a perfect State Which it has been my joy to look upon, And which here, or elsewhere, I’ll see again. For Thought is Life, it cannot die, it lives, And, in my Memory, I see that scene, Not in a dream but in Reality, When Vision wakes to Life my Thoughtful Soul. As Erth is, so shall this Earth be in time When Men believe the words of Isola.

COMPANION VOLUME TO IJAIN.

Ready, Part I. and Part II. of Lady Florence Dixie’s Book:

The Songs of a Child.

IT CONTAINS THREE COLOURED PORTRAITS.

May be ordered of Messrs. W. H. SMITH & SON, 186, Strand, W.C.; J. MENZIES, Edinburgh; or of any other Bookseller or Library.

PRICE FIVE SHILLINGS.

or from Charles Scribner’s Sons, 153–757, Fifth Avenue, New York. Price 2 dols.

The following are a few reviews of Part I. and of Part II.

The Leamington Spa Courier and Warwickshire Standard of Jan. 31st, 1902, concluding a long review, writes:—“Lack of space prevents us giving one tithe of its fine passages. In the ‘Death of Robespierre’ we have a lurid scene from the Reign of Terror that might have come from the pen of a Macaulay or an Aytoun. Another vivid historical picture is to be found in the story of Nigel Bruce, brother of the heroic King Robert Bruce. The death-song of Wallace has the true heroic ring. For romance, tragic yet delightful, we must turn to the ‘Lure Witch of the Alpine Glen’—a very fine poem. Pantheists will appreciate ‘A Child’s Search for God.’... Perhaps the most delightful and refreshing of the longer poems is an exquisitely told narrative of the Bavarian Highlands (‘The Wandering Waif and the King’).... And ‘I Wandered in the Market’ is a powerful plea for the dumb-stricken animal. For an original and pleasingly put advocacy of the sacred rights of bird and beast, ‘The Judgment of Airielle’ stands prominent.... This book is really a real, living, human production, and one which must ever be a joy to the man or woman whom the cares of this world have not robbed of all that is natural and unaffected.”

The Literary World of Dec. 30th remarks:—“‘Esterelle; or, The Lure Witch of the Alpine Glen,’ fills fifty-six pages, and contains passages that would do no discredit to poets of riper age and more mature mind. Pathetic and beautiful thoughts are expressed on every page.”

The Yorkshire Herald, Jan. 2nd, 1902, concludes an appreciative review:—“Her longer pieces are written with power and poetic fervour, and had the gifted authoress devoted her talents solely to the composition of poetry, the world of literature would have been all the richer for it.”

The Banff Journal, Feb. 1st, 1902, concluding a long review, says:—“The book possesses elements which will ensure for the name of the gifted authoress a permanent place among the poets of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.”

In a lengthy review The Dumfries Standard says:—“The whole volume is richer in the promise of poetic greatness than most great poets can show at so early an age; better than any extract the book itself will be, and for the nobility of its sentiment, for the vein of genuine poetry that is in it we have no word too cordial to recommend it.”—Dec. 4th, 1901.

“Ouida” writes:—“I am much moved by the pathos and beauty of many of your poems. Thanks from my heart for the ‘Prayer for the Dogs,’ and ‘Janet Lees’ is lovely. It should be reprinted everywhere, and ‘Averille.’”—Dec. 3rd, 1901.

Marie Corelli says:—“Your charming book of poems which I find very fascinating.”—Dec. 6th, 1901.

The Herald of the Golden Age for December says:—“This volume of poems contains many gems of thought. There is a freshness and versatility about the book that is quite unique. There can be no doubt that the author possesses the poetic gift in a most marked degree.”

The Northern Scot of Feb. 15th, 1902, says:—“The whole volume is rich in poetic greatness, and the yearnings of the child’s soul are beautifully and pathetically expressed in every page. It is a fascinating book.”

A Sailor writes from one of H. M. ironclads, Feb. 2nd, 1902:—“We know many of the ‘Songs of a Child’ by heart. I can say every word of ‘Love Knots’ and ‘Why I Kissed the Soldier Boy’ and ‘Towards Sadowa.’ I have never touched a drop of drink since I read ‘Drink’s Curse.’ God bless the child who wrote these songs.”

A soldier writes from one of tho blockhouses in South Africa:—“Will you let another ‘soldier boy’ thank you for that grand poem ‘Why I Kissed the Soldier Boy’? It goes to every soldier’s heart straight as a die. I simply love it. It is human to the backbone. What a splendid poem ‘The Lure Witch of the Alpine Glen’ is; and I have read ‘The Wandering Waif and the King’ over and over again. How I and my mates have laughed over ‘The Raid of Ruby Roses’ from Sandringham. We all hope Part II. will soon find its way here.”

Under date June 15th, 1902, Mr. George Jacob Holyoake writes:—“Dear Lady Florence, ‘Abel Avenged’ is a splendid heresy, splendidly set forth. It supplies what Milton omits, and what only a free spirit could conceive, only an intrepid mind could express. The wealth of thought in that epic and in the ‘Sceptic’s Defence’ is wonderful.”

The Herald of the Golden Age for June says:—“This additional volume of poems, written by Lady Florence Dixie between the ages of twelve and seventeen years, is a phenomenal production for one so young, and it will, apart from the additional poems which are still awaiting publication, establish her reputation as a poet. The dramatic tragedy, entitled ‘Abel Avenged,’ evidences the doubts which orthodox religious teaching produces in the minds of many children. It reminds one so strongly of Milton’s style and depth of thought as to make one wonder how a girl of fourteen could have been the author. Some of the poems which are written in lighter vein are very charming and idyllic; two of the best of these are ‘Before the lights come in,’ and ‘King Taija.’ A strong humanitarian note is sounded in the poem entitled ‘A Ramble in Hell,’ which is an impassioned protest against the iniquities of Vivisection, and demonstrates how early in life the gifted authoress became a champion on the rights of animals.”

In a long review of an advance copy of the book in The Agnostic Journal of May 10, “Saladin” remarks in his “At Random” sketch:—“The lyric [of the poem ‘Saladin’] is deft and musical, but it is the little schoolgirl’s chivalrous treatment of him who was Christendom’s most formidable foe that entitles the lines to distinction. To try a person or a cause by his or its intrinsic merits, and not in the light of the extrinsic prejudices with which it has come to be encrusted, is, in addition to the function of a poet, the deed of a heroine.... The child’s precocious rejection of religious orthodox is recorded in the ambitious dramatic effusion, ‘Abel Revenged,’ an earnest and gifted child’s succedaneum for Byron’s ‘Cain.’ The assault upon Orthodoxy is, of course, delivered not from the critical or historical, but from the moral side. The teaching of the Church is impugned on the ground of its incompatibility with truth and justice, and—nobly characteristic of the writer—for its disregard of the sufferings of sentient creatures.... Any really educated lady of rank and fortune can secretly hold unpopular tenets, but it takes a Douglas to avow them. The volume here is of gold.”

The Dumfries Standard, under date June 28, says:—“These poems exhibit a degree of intellectual daring and a maturity of speculative thought in the realms of religion and morals that are amazing, and a literary talent hardly less so. In ‘Abel Avenged’ one reads with a feeling of astonishment the inexorable directness of the child’s logic and the skill with which she discharges her function of critic in the action of a drama.”

The Northern Weekly of July 19 remarks:—“‘Songs of a Child’ shows a passionate love of Nature, high ideals and a noble longing for truth, and sympathy with all living things.... ‘A Ramble in Hell’ you cannot forget once you have read it. Lady Florence has fronted the riddle of the Universe in many poems and asked questions that are daring and heterodox. ‘The Sceptic’s Defence’ is full of questions prompted by the mystery and the misery of the world. ‘Abel Avenged’ is amazing as the production of one so young.”

Young Oxford for July says:—“In these songs the golden thread of genius runs alike through tender lyric and daring drama. That a girl of fourteen should have written ‘Abel Avenged’ is one of the marvels of literature. Orthodoxy has created more than one epic, but let us hope that never again will it have opportunity to fashion one from the brain and nerve tissue of a child, for in the vigorous, sympathetic sketch of ‘Cain’ we see a free, truthful spirit beating in defiant despair against the bars of a narrow theology ... the old belief in a vengeful deity were not dead, surely it would be killed by the remorseless logic of the child whose ponderings resulted thus.”

In a letter dated May 1, the Editor of The Golden Age writes:—“Please accept my warmest thanks for the pleasure you have given me, and let me offer you my sincerest congratulations. The world has certainly been the poorer in consequence of the delay in the publication of the poems, for they are both beautiful and remarkable in many ways, to say nothing of the helpful thought and sentiment contained in them. If ‘Abel Avenged’ had been issued as a lost manuscript (re-discovered) by Milton, no one would have doubted the authenticity. Are you Milton re-incarnated? I wonder! The manner in which you have thought out the deepest problems of life and handled them in this poem and in ‘The Sceptic’s Defense’ is remarkable.”

Reviewing an advance copy of this book, The Literary Guide for May says:—“The perusal of the Second Part of Lady Florence Dixie’s poems increases our astonishment at the extraordinary development of her mental powers in early life. The present volume possesses special interest.... Her poetic drama, ‘Abel Avenged’ was written at the age of fourteen, and one knows not whether to be most astounded at the boldness of the language or the fact that at so early a period of life the doubts and obstinate questionings which the work reveals should have arisen at all. The chief personage is Cain, whose character is conceived with striking power and sympathy.... Lady Florence Dixie is a writer who dares to think for herself—one who can, moreover, express her ideas with refreshing vigour and in most cases in unmistakable clearness. The Poetry of Revolt and the Poetry of Sympathy for animal life are distinctly enriched by the publication of this volume. To have performed such a service is an achievement of which any author might be proud. That it should have been done by a child is one of the most remarkable facts in present-day literature.”

The Review of Reviews for July says:—“There is great pathetic interest attaching to these poems and to the opening chapters of ‘Ijain,’ ... and there is something touching in the longing desire so manifest in every page of Lady Florence’s writings to save other children from the misery through which she has emerged.... The story of Lady Florence’s pilgrimage from the first plank in her atheistic platform to her present position is told in ‘The Story of Ijain,’ which promises to be of considerable interest. It is a kind of demonstration in vivisectional anatomy of the living soul, from which most people would shrink ... and those who read it cannot fail to sympathise even if they do not agree.”

An American Appreciation.—The Boston Press Writer, the organ of the American Press Writers’ Association, Nov. 1902, says:—“We always like to think of the great Iconoclasts as a Roman Gladiator, striding into the arena armed with sword and shield hurling defiance at Cæsar and the world; but what picture can imagination conjure up when a child steps upon the scene and throws down the gauntlet which defies Cæsar and all the world. Kindness steals up from every page like perfume from a flower.... After reading the rubbish called poetry published to-day in newspaper and magazine; oceans of words nicely joined together, but a desert of ideas; it is refreshing to reach this oasis called ‘Songs of a Child.’ Sweet mingling of sentiment and philosophy.... You will find that which rings as true as ‘A MAN’S A MAN, FOR A’ THAT.’... Why should Humanity wait till its best friends have departed for ever, before paying them a fitting tribute. Let us while they are still with us, gather from the fields of thought the fairest flowers they have sown, and weave them in a chaplet—‘Let us wreath the living brow.’ All thinkers, liberal, progressive people, friends of ‘The New Thought,’ and those who love Humanity and worship truth, should purchase this book and place it in their libraries where it belongs, beside Burns, Byron and Shelley.”

The Rev. J. P. Hopps, in The Coming Day, writes:—“A truly astonishing book is ‘Songs of a Child and other Poems,’ by ‘Darling,’ (Lady Florence Dixie), published by The Leadenhall Press, London, in two parts, now issued in one volume. The writings of this wonderful child, the story of whose childhood is promised, suggest the presence and inspiration of a master spirit, fierce for freedom, daring in criticism, and splendid in spiritual adventure. The poems are full of dash and fire, whether treating of Nature and her wild delights or the mind-world with all its possibilities of rapture and depression, joy and anguish, trust and horror. But the wonder of it! The strenuous ‘Dramatic Tragedy’ of ‘Abel Avenged’ was written at fourteen and a half, and the militant ‘Sceptic’s Defence’ at sixteen—both crammed with the rankest imaginable heresies. Throughout the whole book there is hardly a line—perhaps not a line—which is mere composition. It is all powder and shot, and morning and evening stars.”

The Daily Chronicle, Quebec, says:—“The poems represent the lyrical activity of Lady Florence from the age of ten years to seventeen, and they are presented to the public in the form in which they first appeared, untouched and unrevised. Many of them are really so good, so musical, so original in choice of topic, so vigorous in execution, so rich in allusion, and often, so spirited, that one may well wonder how so youthful a poet could turn out such work, and such creations. In the compass of six hundred pages we have here the product of her pen for seven years,—only a selection from a mass of manuscripts.”

PUBLISHERS:

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IJAIN;

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The Evolution of a Mind.

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In an Epilogue on Ijain “Saladin” (W. Stewart Ross) writes:—

“The breezy freshness of Ijain’s character is replete with simple but insinuating charm. Her spirit, genial and generous, was never meant for a cage. Hardly emerged from her cradle, her unsophisticated commonsense, on its own initiative, anticipated the propositions of ‘the Higher Criticism.’ She looked upon the dogmas of the popular faith, not through conventionally-coloured spectacles, but with the vision of her own clear, honest, fearless eyes; and the Father of Mercy have mercy upon Dogma when it is thus surveyed!

“When Ijain first threw down her play-things and began to regard the world on her own account, with her new, not second-hand, type of mind, she found, to her distress, that, before she had come into the world at all, everything had been cut and dried for her. The thinking had all been done for her by heads in the grave; and, to question the findings of those heads in the grave meant obloquy here, and hell elsewhere.

“Ijain laid down these play-things that she might, without undue distraction, think this finality over—and it did not meet with her endorsement. There was nothing in her of the rebel for rebellion’s sake; but there was much in her of the mettle of the martyr for Truth’s sake. She adopted the more than Golden Rule, ‘To thine own self be true.’ She took it for granted that it is with our own individual faculties we must work out our own salvation, and that not with fear and trembling, but with modest self-reliance and simple sincerity. She precociously grasped the principle of Human Brotherhood, involving a repudiation of all racial and credal prejudice. In the whole composition of the little heroine there is no vestige of the braggart. There is the mortification of finding herself in an environment in which all the vital questions of existence had been finally settled thousands of years before she had been born, and that by credulous hierophants thousands of years behind the highest tide-mark of the intelligence of the present hour.

“The record of Ijain, with inimitable directness and simplicity, exemplifies what everyone who really knows and sympathizes with children knows, that the mind of the child is, naturally, in revolt against our popular dogmas, ay, and in revolt against theism itself as held by the orthodox. The affirmation that it was not Jesus, but Nigel, that, in a certain crisis, saved Ijain from drowning, is an argument as forceful as it is simple; and the mind, till, by the Nans and Miss O’Learies, it has been warped and sophisticated, does not in an anthropomorphic deity find the Œdipus to read the riddle of the cosmos. The child instinctively knows what the philosopher, after his mind has been subjected to theologic distortion, requires all his mental faculties to rediscover, and all his moral courage to avow. Ijain, susceptibly intuitive child though she was, did not find the god-idea instinctive. She anticipated Darwin, which at the time, she had not read.

‘The belief in God has often been advanced as not only the greatest, but the most complete of all the distinctions between men and the lower animals. It is, however, impossible, as we have seen, to maintain that this belief is innate or instinctive to man. On the other hand, a belief in all pervading spiritual agencies seems to be universal; and apparently follows from a considerable advance in man’s reason, and from a still greater advance in his faculties of imagination, curiosity and wondre. I am aware that the assumed instinctive belief in God has been used by many persons as an argument for his existence. But this is a rash argument, as we should thus be compelled to believe in the existence of many cruel and malignant spirits, only a little more powerful than man; for the belief in them is far more general than in a beneficent deity.’

“Moreover, in the immaculate simplicity of her soul, Ijain anticipated an admission in one of the sermons of John Wesley which probably she has not read even up to the present hour.

‘After all that has been so plausibly written concerning “the innate idea of God”; after all that has been said of its being common to all men, in all ages and nations, it does not appear that man has naturally any more idea of God than any of the beasts of the field; he has no knowledge of God at all; no fear of God at all; neither is God in all his thoughts. Whatever change may afterwards be wrought (whether by grace of God, or his own reflections, or by education), he is by nature a mere Atheist.’

“And, even were the orthodox deity taken for granted, with her girlish heart and tender sympathy with every living creature, Ijain’s whole nature rose in revolt against the savage truculence of the deity of the churches. She, instinctively, endorsed the sentiments of the philosopher of Ferney:—

‘Whoever dares to say “God has spoken to me,” is criminal before God and men; for would God, the common father of all men, have communicated himself to an individual? God to walk! God to talk! God to write upon a little mountain! God to become man! God-man to die upon the cross! Ideas worthy of a Punch! To invent all these things is the last degree of rascality; to believe them, the extreme of brutal stupidity!’

“Yes, Ijain, if, in the reading of the Riddle of the Universe, we must postulate deity, let us have God expressive of the ripest knowledge, the loftiest aspirations, the most transcendental spiritual vision of modern humanity, not the coarse and barbaric eidolon of credulous and unlettered savages. In respect of our intelligence, in mercy upon our feelings, give us God up to date.

“The lesson the ‘story’ teaches is that

He prayeth best who loveth best,

All things both great and small;

that the world, in its noblest aspect, is an arena for generous and unselfish endeavour; that, in service to your brother man, you are offering the very service to God that any god born of a noble and spiritual ideal would most readily accept. Ijain’s lesson is, Help Man, and, if it so please you, call it worshiping God. The most divine of all the sayings attributed to the Nazarine is, in regard to a kindly, helpful deed, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’”

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]

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

  1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling.
  2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.