THE NEW BOOKS.

GOSSIP OF THE CENTURY.*

Someone (was it Bagehot?) has asserted, with a pleasant touch of Hibernianism, that the people who can write are mostly those who have nothing to tell-or something to that withering effect. This irreverent dictum certainly does not apply to the author of the two matterful, sumptuously-appointed volumes before us. So far from having nothing to tell, he may, in a way, be said to have had too much; for he tantalizingly informs us in the closing chapter that his "best and most interesting reminiscences are those he has been "obliged to reserve for another volume." For this reservation the writer probably has personal reasons, sound and sufficient to which the fact that the volumes issued contain a minimum of "gossip" as to people now living furnishes, perhaps, the clue. The work as it stands, good as it is, would, however, have been materially strengthened by the omission of some of the lesser chitchat in favor of the weightier matter withheld. The narrative is written, very properly, currente calamo, with the single purpose of setting before the reader as directly and as pleasantly as possible the author's personal recollections of men and women notable for their social rank, ability, or personal singularity, during the first seventy odd years of the present century. The writer has wisely abstained from diluting his recital with moral or other extraneous comment, the reader being handsomely credited throughout with intelligence enough to note a bearing or to draw an inference for himself. The interest of the book rests solely in the interest of its matter. The author is merely the raconteur, treating his material objectively, without effort at style, and without those piquant displays of personal temper-or ill-temper-which furnish the zest, one may almost say the substance, of so many similar works. Most of the stories given are, to the best of our recollection, fresh, though the reader familiar with Greville and other diarists will recognize here and there an old favorite. Like the recently-reviewed "Diary of an Englishman in Paris," the "Gossip of the Century" is issued anonymously, (and we may take occasion to say of the former work that the surmise crediting it to the pen of Sir Richard

GOSSIP OF THE CENTURY: Personal and Traditional Memories - Social, Literary, Artistic, etc. By the author of "Flemish Interiors." In two volumes, illustrated. New York: Macmillan & Co.

Wallace has been upset by the not inconsiderable testimony to the contrary of Sir Richard Wallace himself). While our author has written, as we have said, off-hand, he has, nevertheless, carefully classified his material; the arrangement is excellent, and greatly enhances the convenience and practical usefulness of the book. A word should be added as to the ad

mirable way in which the publishers have done their part. The volumes are throughout notable examples of correct, elegant book-making, and might well allure one to the perusal of matter less interesting than that they contain. The text is enlivened by a great number of illustrations, portraits, cuts from rare prints, etc., a fine frontispiece portrait of Monckton Milnes and one of Walter Seott as a child being especially noteworthy.

The first planet of magnitude that swam into our diarist's ken was His Majesty George IV., styled by some the "first gentleman," by others the "first blackguard" of Europe; and a number of anecdotes are given illustrative of the two main phases of the royal character. The author remembers being taken by his father in 1829 to obtain a glimpse of the King as he drove by:

"Leaning back in the carriage and nearly covered by the leather apron, were two gentlemen enveloped in fur-lined coats; for, beside the King, sat the unpopular Duke of Cumberland, his countenance strongly unprepossessing, and his defective eye plainly discernable. The King's face, though bloated, wore a pleasant expression, and he bowed courteously, with a bland smile, when my father lifted his hat. Both princes were muffled up in those wonderful rolls of neck-cloth, having the effect of bandages round the throat, and apparently requiring throats of peculiar length to suit them; but the fur collars in this case concealed a good part of this now antiquated attire."

A curious delusion of George IV.'s later years was that he had been present at Waterloo and had himself gained the battle; indeed, one day at a dinner not long before his death, he not only re-asserted this, but appealed to the Duke of Wellington for confirmation. The Duke discretely replied, "I have heard your Majesty say so before."

So notorious were George's habits of gallantry, says the author, that people were scarcely surprised to find after his death that"He had had sixteen accredited mistresses, and the packets of billet-doux, gloves, garters, locks of hair, faded flowers, etc., found stowed away, bore testimony to the multiplicity of his adventures in the 'pays du tendre.'"

Among other oddities developed by this liberal Lothario was a raven-like proclivity for hiding

things away. Despite his usually reckless and extravagant ways, a secret hoard of cast-off clothing was found in his wardrobe that might have moved the envy of Wardour Street; and more than fifty pocket-books were found scattered about in odd nooks, each containing money in smaller or larger amounts, the entire sum amounting to £10,000. Sir Thomas Hammond, who was aware of the King's hoarding propensities, stated that he must have saved up in this way at least £600,000 during his reign. George IV. was by no means without cultivation, and proved himself a competent patron of art, and a skilled connoisseur of articles of virtù, of which he had one of the finest collections ever made by an individual. He was not devoid of wit and good-feeling, and the author remembers hearing in his youth of the following incident illustrative of both qualities: Driving one day through the Avenue in Windsor Park, he met a coarse, blustering fellow, one of those who entertained no admiration for Royalty; on being told by a companion who sat beside him that the King's phaeton was approaching and that he must uncover, he replied with an oath, and loud enough to be heard by His Majesty, I won't take off my hat to anybody.' The King drew up, lifted his own hat, and said with a smile worthy of Prince Florizel,' I would take off mine to the meanest of my subjects.' The man was dumbfounded, but by the time he had sufficiently recovered himself to return the salute, the King had driven off."

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A still neater example of the royal retort courteous was that on the occasion of the King's visit to Dublin in 1821.

"At a court held there, Lord Kinsale thought fit to air his ancient hereditary privilege of remaining covered when before the Sovereign. George IV., whose sense of propriety was wounded by this breach of good taste on the part of the Irish peer, said to him, My Lord of Kinsale, we recognize your privilege to wear your hat in the presence of your King, but it does not appear whence you draw your authority for covering your head in the company of ladies.""

Among the amusing stories related of George's family, the following of the Duke of Cambridge - who had inherited his royal father's habit of repeating three times, ingeniously described by Walpole as "triptology is worth reprinting. The Duke, who habitually attended the Sunday morning services at St. Paul's, Knightsbridge, often audibly expressed his approbation of the proceedings, to the great delight of the irreverent ; and the author remembers on one occasion, when the clergyman had pronounced the exhortation "Let us pray," hearing the Duke cheerfully respond from his pew "Aye, to be sure; why not? let us pray, let us pray, let us pray!" Again,

while the commandments were being read, he was heard to remark approvingly — “Steal! no, of course not; musn't steal, musn't steal, musn't steal." The Duke of Brunswick, brother of Queen Caroline, and son of "Brunswick's fated chieftain" who, at Waterloo

"Rushed to the field, and, foremost fighting, fell ". was a still more eccentric specimen. "The detail of his unconventional practices and habits would require a volume to itself. . . . He possessed a collection of silk wigs of various hues, but all consisting of small tire-bouchon curls; his face was liberally painted with both red and white, and his toilet was painfully elaborated, while diamonds of the finest water glittered upon his garments wherever they could possibly be applied. Of course when he wore evening dress he had a better opportunity for displaying these gems, of which he had the largest and finest collection in the world. It is said that one night in Paris, being at a fashionable soirée, the ladies crowded round him to an extent which at first flattered his vanity considerably ; but at last their persistent curiosity became troublesome, and to one of the fair bevy who remarked, Mais, mon Dieu, Monseigneur, vouz en avez partout!' he replied, 'Oui, Madame, jusque sur mon caleçon; voulez vou que je vous les fasse voir?' His diet was as curious as the rest. It was wonderful how he would go into one confectioner's after another, if anything in the étalage took his fancy, and he would eat daintily, but plentifully, of bonbons and petits fours at any hour of the day. He was constantly to be seen at Tortoni's, where he would consume an unlimited number of ices, and when there, instead of ordering up any specified confectionary, preferred lounging into the store-rooms, and tasting here and there, often as much to kill time as to indulge his palate.”

Yet, strange to say, this begemmed and bepainted fop, this ringletted devourer of sweets, had, in point of personal bravery, the heart of a Paladin—bearing out the Duke of Wellington's experience that the dandies in his army made the best soldiers. The warlike episodes and hairbreadth 'scapes in which the Duke of Brunswick figured, his gallant attempts to regain his lost principality and his political standing, read more like fable than reality. He was a dangerous man to affront. Shortly after coming of age he conceived an intense hatred for Count Münster ("Le Monstre," he styled him), vowing nothing would satisfy him but taking that minister's life. While awaiting his opportunity, he had an effigy made of the Count, and spent two hours daily in the Quilplike diversion of firing at it with a pistol. In 1827 he sent a cartel, of which the Count very properly took no notice, his semi-royal challenger having selected, as his second, Tattersal the horse-dealer.

Our author's "Court Gossip" occupies only about a third of Volume I., the remainder of it

being devoted to social, political, and literary celebrities, and the liberal professions, while Volume II. is wholly given over to recollections of the stage and the atelier. We may here leave the menagerie of royal and noble personages, and pass on to people whose claims are less adventitious.

That vigorous character, John Horne Tooke, had a strong repugnance to matrimony, and he often tried to inspire his friends with his own sentiments on the subject. One of them, bent upon perpetrating the fatal blunder, received from Tooke some sagacious advice as to preliminaries:

"This consisted in urging upon him the absolute necessity of obtaining from reliable sources every possible detail of his intended wife's antecedents, moral, material, and financial, and then of devoting as long a period as possible to the most scrutinizing personal vigilance, in order to ascertain the exact truth for himself; when absolutely satisfied on every point, the only allowable course for him was to provide himself with a fleet horse, to be ready saddled and bridled on the weddingday, and to ride away from the church as swiftly as possible before the ceremony took place."

When Tooke was on trial for high treason, he suddenly resolved that he would speak in his own defense, and sent word to that effect to his counsel, Erskine :

"I'll be hanged if I don't,' said Tooke, by way of emphasizing his intention. "You'll certainly be hanged if you do," was the smart retort.

Though our author never saw Byron's Countess Guiccioli, his friends who had furnished him with data for a very unflattering portrait:

"One of these gentlemen assured me that her complexion reminded him of boiled pork (!) and another asserted that her figure was absolutely shapeless; that she was not beautiful, and that so far from possessing any grace or elegance of style she had the appearance of a short bolster with a string around its middle. Worse than this, it seems that the Guiccioli waddled like a duck; her feet, which were as large and flat as Madame de Stael's-immortalized by her enemy Napoleon, when he described her as standing on her 'grand pied de Stael'―aiding in the suggestion of this simile." We are sorry to add that our author, incited thereto perhaps by Napoleon's example, comments upon Byron's "in-fat-uation for his stout charmer!

Some interesting facts are furnished as to

George Eliot, in a description given of that rather abnormal establishment, The Priory, where the great novelist and her "friend" George Henry Lewes entertained so many literary and artistic notabilities and their Mæcenases. The text, we may add, is accompanied by an especially hideous portrait of "Mrs." Lewes, inspiring one with a higher opinion of George

Henry's hardihood than of his taste. George Eliot, says the writer,

"Was by no means sparkling in conversation, indeed her social attributes were rather of the heavier, almost Johnsonian, order, and her remarks were often sententious, though apparently not designedly so, for there was obviously no intentional arrogation of superiority, though perhaps an almost imperceptible evidence of self-consciousness. The impression she left was that of seriousness and solid sense, untempered by any ray of humor, scarcely of cheerfulness—Lewes, on the other hand, was really witty, interspersing his conversation with natural flashes of humor, quite spontaneous in character, which would continually light up his talk; even when he said bitter things he had a way of putting them amusingly."

Toward Dickens, the writer is anything but friendly, animadverting severely upon his "heartlessness," his "recognized lack of the instincts of a gentleman," his "immoral life," etc., etc. He and Dickens were once chance fellow-travellers on the Boulogne packet:

"Travelling with him was a lady not his wife, nor his sister-in-law, yet he strutted about the deck with the air of a man bristling with self-importance; every line of his face and every gesture of his limbs seemed haughtily to say Look at me; make the most of your chance. I am the great, the only Charles Dickens; whatever I may choose to do is justified by that fact.'" This description is coupled with an anecdote that, to our thinking, rather takes the sting out of it:

"A friend of mine whose countenance-perhaps it was the cut of his beard-might by a stretch of imagination be said to bear some resemblance to that of Charles

Dickens, told me that having lunched at a Station refreshment-bar one day, he had drawn out his purse to settle the account, when the 'young lady' of the counter, with bashful gestures, absolutely declined accepting any payment; she had shown herself obsequiously attentive, and now begged he would freely help himself to anything he required free, gracious (sic), for nothing.' His astonishment was great, and was not diminished when he found that he had been actually mistaken for Charles Dickens, and in that character was not required to liquidate his expenses!"

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It may be needless to add that the "Station refreshment-bar" in question was not the celebrated one at "Mugby Junction." The writer has not much to say of Carlyle, but quotes with evident relish Greville's curt dismissal of that pseudo-philosopher-who may be said to have kept his philosophy, as Heine kept his brilliancy, for the printer:

I had never seen before. He talks the broadest Scotch, "Dined at the Ashburton's, where met Carlyle, whom and appears to have coarse manners, but might perhaps be amusing at times."

Assuredly, in the "diarist," Death has an added sting for notable people.

The second volume-considerably the larger of the two, by the way is devoted, as we have

said, to the stage and the studio, the painters taking up rather more than a third of it. To this portion of our author's reminiscences— rich in memories of Braham, Malibran, Vestris, Lablache, Liston, Macready, Paganini, Vernet, Turner, Landseer, and a throng of names scarcely less brilliant- we shall not attempt to do justice in the way of extracts. The description of Paganini is especially graphic. Between this "Michael Angelo of Music" and the great Mme. Malibran an amusing tilt once took place. It was once reported to Paganini — "That the great songstress, while recognizing in him a 'violiniste au delà de la première force' had added: 'mais il ne fait pas chanter son instrument.' Deep was the maestro's indignation: Ha, ha!' said he; 'c'est comme ça; attendez que je lui fasse voir'; and he forthwith challenged his fair critic to perform a duet with his violin which should take either part, and that with the limited resources of one string. Malibran thought it prudent to decline this contest, but the violinist could not thus swallow the affront. Shortly after, both were to perform in the same concert. Malibran was down for Di piacer, one of her most splendid successes; Paganini was to follow; he chose the same music, and divesting his violin before the public, of all but one string, he called forth all his genius, all his skill, and so marvellously simulated the prima donna's voice and execution, that the audience, mystified beyond expression, were persuaded that the tones could only be vocal, and that Paganini was not simply an instrumentalist of magic power, but a vocalist who, moreover, owned a splendid falsetto.

In the literature of Evolution, Dr. August Weismann occupies an unique position. With the single exception of Herbert Spencer, no other of the followers of Darwin has shown such boldness of hypothesis or originality in discussion. The writings of no one else have been so freely criticised, or have in such a degree acted as a stimulus to research.

* ESSAYS UPON HEREDITY AND KINDRED BIOLOGICAL PROBLEMS. By Dr. August Weismann. Edited by Edward B. Poulton and Arthur E. Shipley. Authorized translation. Oxford: At the Clarendon Press. New York: Macmillan & Co.

In two series of essays, Weismann has treated the subject of Heredity and its relations to Evolution. In the first series the author challenged the truth of certain doctrines in Biology which had in greater or less degree been taken for granted by previous authors. The so-called Lamarckian principles of the inheritance of acquired characters, Weismann denied in toto. This principle has been admitted by Darwin as a large factor in Evolution. It was recognized by Herbert Spencer as one of the foundationstones in his system of philosophy, while many of the later evolutionists, especially in France and America, had emphasized it even to the degree of belittling or ignoring the "Darwinian principle" of Natural Selection. While the tendency to Lamarckism was at its height, and the greatest stress laid on the inherited results of use and disuse, effects of environment, habit and experience, the absolute denial of the existence of any evidence of such inheritance on the part of a trained naturalist and able writer could not fail to produce a decided sensation.

At the same time Dr. Weismann gave a denial of two still older dogmas, the first, that natural death is a necessary attribute of all living beings; and the second, that the purpose or essence of the process of fertilization is a process of vitalization or rejuvenescence, or in any way a process to which these metaphorical terms could properly apply. These negative assertions accompanied a most remarkable piece of constructive work,— the development of a theory of the physical basis of heThis theory is so simple and so beautiful as to redity, of which all these negations form a part. create the impression that, if not true, it must lie in the direction of the truth. At the same time, the testing of its validity opens a multitude of new fields for investigation, some of which have already yielded most important re

turns.

Omitting minor matters and technical details, the theory of Weismann may be stated as follows, the first two paragraphs being given in his own language:

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Organic bodies are perishable, while Life maintains the appearance of immortality in the constant succession of similar individuals, the individuals themselves passing away.

A single cell out of millions is specialized as a sexual cell. It is thrown off from the organism and is capable of reproducing all the peculiarities of the parent body, in the new individual which springs from it by self-division and the complex process of differentiation."

Experiments show that the laws and methods of heredity are essentially the same in all

organized beings. They show also that the physical basis of heredity is located in certain parts of the plasm of the germinal cell, being confined to certain structures in the nucleus of the cell. The continuity of the germ-plasm from generation to generation is the basis of heredity. The process of fertilization is essentially the mingling of the germ-plasm of two reproductive cells. Its essential purpose is the production of variation through the mingling of two strains of ancestral qualities.

The continuity or immortality of the germcells is comparable to the "immortality" of one-celled organisms. These undergo change by cell-division, one animal splitting into two or four creatures similar to itself, the original organism disappearing in the process but not dying. These organisms are not subject to natural death, as to die involves the leaving behind of a dead body or corpse, while their cell-division and change leaves only live products. Accidental death as a result of injury or mutilation could of course come to all living structures. A one-celled organism must be wholly well or wholly ill, as it is a single life-unit. A many-celled organism may suffer loss or injury in one organ while others are in a normal condition. So natural death may come to compound organisms as the result of gradual wearing away of important organs.

The new organism is "made up bit by bit of inherited structures, as a new house is made up of fragments of an old one." A large part of our heritage is unused, and may remain latent for one or more generations, and is yet susceptible of being transmitted.

Infusoria

The process of conjugation among Infusoria (the sexual union of two like organisms followed by an interchange of nuclear substance) is not for purposes of "rejuvenescence" but for the purpose of producing variation. From this simple process arises sexual reproduction (called by Weismann " Amphimixis," double crossing), as a specialized condition of the same process, and existing for the same purpose of the production of variation.

Differentiation of sex in the process of specialization is to the advantage of the species, the sexes and the sex-cells (ova and spermatozoa) having been primitively alike.

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Whatever is useful becomes necessary as soon as it is possible.

Whatever (structure, instinct, habit, or quality) ceases to become useful shrinks away until it is harmless. The process of " Panmixia" (universal crossing) or cessation of selection

largely accounts for this disappearance of structure no longer useful.

Parthenogenesis (the development of eggs without fertilization) exists wherever for any reason Amphimixis is not useful to the species, as where (among plant-lice, etc.) very many similar individuals should appear at one time and "on short notice.'

Natural death is a necessary result of complexity of structure and specialization of cells into organs with different functions. It becomes necessary so soon as it is useful to the species. Thus, in the process of Evolution of the higher forms, simplicity, ignorance, and immortality have been exchanged for specialization, sensibility, pain, and death.

be ac

Thus far the views of Weismann may cepted as in possible accord with the results of most workers in this field at present. But the following propositions have been strongly controverted by able writers, and the discussion of their truth or falsity is the present battleground of Evolution :

The germ-cells are fundamentally different from the cells which make up the body. While the body-cells in the multicellular organisms (ontogenetic or somatogenic cells) change and disappear, the germ-cells (phylogenetic) persist unchanged, and from them is built up the next generation. They are analogous to the immortal bodies of one-celled organisms. These germ-cells are sheltered from outside influences within the body (soma) to which they give rise. They are in no way affected by the environment of the soma or body, and they remain unchanged by any incident in its experience. rience. Consequently," Acquired characters are never inherited.”

It is generally admitted that the inheritance of acquired characters has been taken for granted, rather than proved, by Darwin and Spencer, and their followers. It is admitted that the evidence for such inheritance is comparatively scanty, and most of it susceptible of interpretation on the basis of the Darwinian principle of Natural Selection. On the other hand, there are many cases of Evolution which seem to be more naturally explained by inherited experience, or the "transmission of reaction tendencies," in accord with the Lamarckian principle, rather than by the hypothesis of Natural Selection. However few the cases of such transmission may be, a single one would prove the contention. If inherited characters are even once transmitted, it cannot be true that the process is imaginary.