work on it in my room at Jerusalem. More appreciative spectators it was my good fortune to find among some English travellers. Lord and Lady Napier and Ettrick, who had come from Constantinople on political business, cheered me by a serious interest in my work, which their genuine love of art made of living value to me, cut off as I was so completely from the counsel of sympathetic critics.

While finishing the picture of "The Scapegoat" I found that the interdict against the Jews helping me by sitting as models had been withdrawn through the influence of a Jewish friend; consequently, I was able to stay and progress with the Temple picture.

It had been a vexation to me during the progress of this picture in Jerusalem to have no opportunity of seeing the distant slope of the northern Olivet from the platform of Moriah, which came into the background. Since 1244, when the successors of Godfrey de Bouillon were chased by the Turks from Jerusalem, no Christian but in disguise, or by stratagem, in risk of very probable death, had entered its precincts. Montefiore had indeed quite recently been admitted, but with an Israelite the concession was not so shocking to the sons of Ishmael. His offence was rather to his nearer brethren. The Rabbis had pronounced against the part which their benevolent visitor had taken in availing himself of the opportunity, because, it not being now known which was the spot covered by the Holy of Holies, he, not being the High Priest, might have offended in treading on the proscribed ground. I had envied him and his followers, but still felt the possibility of getting in myself was as far off as ever. Quite late in the autumn of 1855, however, it was known that the Duke of Brabante was a visitor in Jerusalem, and that the very enlightened and francophile Pasha of the day was making great efforts to gratify his utmost expectations. He had come with a firman to enter the Mosque area, but it was probable that, as with many previous travellers coming from Constantinople, his highness had been told that it would be fatal to the lives of all who attempted to act on the Sultan's order, intended only as a formal compliment. Still, perhaps because

gossip had so little to indulge in, it was said the Duke would be allowed to enter the haram, so I sought information at the fountain-head, and pleaded to be allowed to enter with the Prince's suite. Mr. Finn, our consul, promised to do his best for me, and let me know in good time if the opportunity offered.

Suddenly, at seven o'clock, a few mornings later, I received notice to go forthwith to the room of the Pasha's secretary; on arriving I was astonished to see a room full of people-visitors, missionary clergymen, doctors, Protestant converts, and, what was more remarkable, the wives of many of these, and certain unmarried ladies engaged in the city on charitable work. That all of these should persuade themselves they cared enough about the Mosque to incur the risk of entering astonished me; but while we were waiting we were told it was not certain we should be admitted. An hour or two passed in tedious delay. During this time it transpired that the Pasha was intent upon the success of a summons issued to all the dervishes of the Mosque to assemble in a certain chamber of the haram to discuss a point of great moment, which had to be considered by the highest authorities. Thinking it was the question of admitting the Belgian prince which had to be debated, they thronged into the building to utter their loudest protests. Delays arose in making certain that all had arrived, and then the doors were locked, and a company of soldiers was posted there to turn the councilchamber into a prison for an hour or so.

It was a moment in life to make one's heart stir as the door was turned on its hinges, and the way into this long dreamed of and ever forbidden sanctum was declared to be open. On my first arrival in Jerusalem, wandering alone, by mistake I had entered the gates, but before I had realized my position I was set upon by one, by two, and threatened by an approaching crowd of wild and dark Indians and Africans, whom I happily escaped by a hasty retreat. This time I rejoiced that the place was empty, and I gazed with boundless delight on the beautiful combination of marble architecture, mellowed by the sun of ages, of mossy-like cypresses, and porcelain slabs bearing the hues of

jewels; but at once we were told that no one must linger. At the foot of the steps we were ordered to remove our boots. Having come in Turkish shoes, for me there was no difficulty, but many were unprepared; and it was one of the grim mockeries of fate that at so solemn an epoch, with such sacred associations in mind, a body of ladies and gentlemen should intensify the hideous effect of European costumes by limping about in their stockings, soon lacerated, carrying Wellington and other boots and shoes in hand. Unfortunately the Prince, it was soon evident, cared nothing for the wonders about him; he sometimes turned his royal head to the right or the left as the guide referred to the different objects generally regarded with devotion, but never once did he pause from his march through the Mosque Assakhrah and that of Al Aksa, or at any of the intervening objects, nor did he turn aside to examine anything out of the direct line of his walk-an Arab in Westminster Abbey could not have been more supremely unaffected. Once Dr. Sim and I ran off to look at the interior of the Beautiful Gate, but we were quickly summoned back by a messenger, with a caution that, although the band of dervishes had been shut up, individuals might have escaped who would attack us. We represented that we were armed and would take the chance, but the Pasha still objected, and we had to abandon our hope. On emerging from the gate to Via Dolorosa we saw a body of Moslems in the street, who glared with hatred, such as only religious rancor could inspire, but they left us to disperse in peace.

If in the breasts of all the Christian visitors to the Mosque that day the tenderness burned, which the sight of its reverent conservation had kindled in mine toward Mahommedans, and the sons of Hagar assembled at its doors had then been able to read the newly written inscription on our hearts; the feeling toward us would scarcely have been other than brotherly pride in according that hospitality which all the followers of the prophet of Mecca are enjoined to extend to strangers, and which on this occasion they would discern had not been abused. From the day when Salem was first spoken of as

the city of Melchisedec, when Abram was blessed by the possessor of heaven and earth, this very spot had been the centre of inspiration to the three races -the Jewish, the Christian, and the Mahommedan · who worshipped the God of Abraham. Had the Jews still possessed it, there would have been signs of bloody sacrifice such as the modern world could not tolerate as part of the service of God. Had any sect of Christians held it, the place would have been desecrated either by tinselled dolls and tawdry pictures, or else by the staring ugliness and class vulgarity of the English and Prussian service. In the case of the Moslem there was not an unsightly, not a shocking object in the whole area, it was guarded, oh! so fearingly and lovingly; and it seemed a temple so purified from the pollution of perversity that involuntarily the text, "Here will I take my rest forever," rang in my ears. The past, so many pasts, stood about, and the immediate present was a pregnant wonder. The military forces of the greatest Powers were afar marshalled against each other, to settle the future domination of the city; our presence there indeed marked the moving of the index to a turning-point. The Ishmaelites' sands were running fast away; but I could feel that the sons of Hagar had been appointed for the great purpose of keeping the place sacred until the sons of Sarah had by their long suffering and by their influence upon the outer world prepared the way for resuming their charge of it.

The visit had been a great delight to me, but I had not attained my object. I had not been able to make even the slightest scribble of the landscape for my picture. I had, however, gained distinct knowledge that the only point from which it could be obtained was the roof of the Mosque of the rock. Some of my acquaintances asked me whether I had succeeded in my obejct. Mr. James Graham, the secretary of the Mission, knew my anxiety, and in a visit shortly afterward he spoke to the Pasha's amanuensis of this, whereupon the latter undertook, if I made a portrait of him, to admit me to draw on the roof as well as to see the place farther, as far as time would allow in the one visit, an offer I at once closed with.

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On the appointed morning I went by eight o'clock to the Pasha's office, and there, with ceremonies of coffee and tobacco, I was received cordially by the agent and his friends. I did my best to hasten these formalities, to get to work at the portrait. I knew that sketchiness would not be appreciated, so I drew with fine lines, and I took the opportunity to add a little color by way of beautifying the likeness. All agreed that it was wonderful," and the amanuensis, as I handed it over to him, admitted that I had performed my part of the bargain liberally and satisfactorily. For his part he sent away a messenger, and quickly the custodian of the Mosque came a handsome, tall man of about forty-five. He was the descendant of the family appointed in perpetuity by the Caliph Omar to the office, as a short time before he had shown, when the Sultan had sent a placeman from Constantinople to take his post; and the official in authority proved that not even the present head of the faithful had power to oust him. Into his charge I was now given, and he alone led the way into the sacred enclosure.

It was a singular example of the Moslem's submissiveness to the inevitable, that so few days after the religious world of Islam were ready to die to defend the Mosque enclosure from intrusion, no steps were to be taken to guard me while I entered dressed, all but the feet, in English costume, and with a large sketch-book under my arm, following the unsupported custodian.

I could afford but little time for a general survey. Photographs and the great discussion as to the building of the dome have now made familiar to the world the startling unlikeness of the outside and inside of this Mosque. Remarking on this to the Rev. J. Nicolayson after my first visit, he had said, "I see you are a convert to Mr. Fergusson's the ory." I had then never heard of this view which the architectural critic had formed from examination of exact drawings-made under the most extraordinary circumstances-by Mr. Catherwood and Mr. Bonomi. It was not my purpose to settle this question, but I hurried from point to point to examine some of the wonders of the whole court (many I could not even look for).

When I turned to my guide, asking to be taken to the roof of the northern Mosque, he hesitated, for he had to get the key of the stairs. He made me go with him that I should not be left alone, and then we ascended to the leads. The dome gave me the protection from the sun which I wanted, and there, on tinted paper, I gained the forms of my backgrounds, the colors for which I could get from my own terrace. I regarded the feat as a triumph, while I completed the work on the canvas itself with the same hills before my eyes from my own roof.

My unbroken stay in Jerusalem for sixteen months after six spent in Egypt was now affecting my health, and the doctor advised me to seek change, so I set to work to complete all parts of my picture, which could be done best in the East. Before I left Jerusalem I had painted the heads of all the doctors save the one close to the arm of the Saviour. I had also finished the head of St. Joseph, that of the wine-carrier, and the figure of the youth holding a sistrum. For the principal two figures I had cautiously made separate studies to determine racial type, knowing that the discovery that my picture was more than an assemblage of Jewish Rabbis-which I truly explained it as being-would, in the temper then existing, prevent any other Israelites from sitting to me then or on future visits. In October or November 1855, I sent all my pictures and traps straight to Oxford. "The Scapegoat" had already gone, but it had arrived too late for that year's Exhibition. The design for its frame was made from a drawing sent home by me. I was then free to bring my residence in Jerusalem to a close.

I have already said that I came home by way of the north of Syria, the Archipelago, Constantinople, visiting the armies as they were encamped in the Crimea. Here I saw some little of naval life on board the flag-ship as the guest of Admiral Lyons, who afforded me every opportunity of witnessing the field of strife. I returned by France, and arrived in England in February, 1856, after an absence of two years.

The story of my work in Jerusalem in 1854-55 has already been referred to in previous articles on Pre-Raphaelitism,

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together with the reception of "The Scapegoat" in 1856. From this it will be understood that the new departure in my art (which the study of Orientalism for fuller insights into Biblical history had provoked) put me again in the position of a beginner in the eyes of the public, although I had already exhibited some eight years. The fashion is so strong for an artist to repeat himself continually, that my fresh productions were regarded for years with the greatest shyness. While the "Dead Sea" subject was with Mr. Combe, he did all he could to get it sold, but all those, who, after The Light of the World and Claudio and Isabella" had won their way, had expressed themselves as anxious to possess some future work of mine, when they saw this new one, objected to the subject as not characteristic of me the atmosphere, the color, and the whole scene were perfectly incredible and unlike my previous pictures, moreover it should have been done by an animal painter, Ansdell or Landseer, they said. On my private view day a great picture-dealer called to see my contributions for the Exhibition; he objected to the subject as unsuitable, and also as unknown and unintelligible. I argued that he must have heard of the scapegoat, if only in raillery, but he declared it was perfectly unknown to him. I then accounted for this by the fact that he was a Frenchman, at which he proposed to test English intelligence by asking up his wife and another English lady. We left them to guess the subject, but they had no sort of idea what it could be. When the title was given, they were not one whit the wiser, for they also declared their ignorance of the fact that any goat had ever been chased away into the wilderness as part of an atonement ceremony; so the dealer went away triumphant in his verdict against the picture. The painting, I may repeat, was well placed at the Academy, and attracted great attention from high and low, of those well-guided beings who trusted to their deep and impartial instincts in questions of Art; well-guided by this alone, if without the training of perfect tuition, and unable to expose the littleness of that learning which consists mainly of the cant and slang of our study and the profession.

Unfortunately, too many of the purchasers of pictures-as Canova said of English patrons-" see with their ears," and hence they fight shy of all work new in idea and novel in execution. In thirtytwo years I may say that the world sanctions my innovating spirit, in this particular instance; for now the ingenious mouthpieces of tradition, who wish to insinuate the most damaging suggestions for the passing day, make capital out of "The Scapegoat," and other pictures of the time, acknowledging their excellence, declaring their merits to be absent in my later works; just as men used to say of Dickens' much greater inventions of later days, that he would never again write anything equal to "Pickwick.'

I had spent £1,200 in the East in two two years" The Scapegoat" had taken more than one-third of the time; and, reserving the copyright, I asked 400 guineas for it; but the whole Exhibition went by without a purchaser, and then I had to give up the copyright to obtain my price.* My inability to regain sufficient means made a return to Syria impossible for many years.

It was not without interest to me that an artist, who had more than once been very actively generous in praising my works, met one of my companions at this time, saying, "Has your friend Hunt gone quite mad?" Not that I know of," replied the other. "Why?" "Well, I have been looking at his picture of The Scapegoat,' and for background he has painted the plain and mountains of the Dead Sea. Now my conception of the Lake Asphalt is that it should be gloomy and terrible, full of clouds and darkness, with only lurid lights about it to make the blackness more impressive; but he has gone and painted the scene with all the colors of the rainbow, and with light spreading everywhere!"'

How much more the actual facts of the spot were appropriate than this conception by a half-informed, albeit he was an imaginative man, I leave the reader of this story to determine.

The scene with the castle of Wady Zuara, which so entranced me, I have never been able to paint, neither the

*It was sold at Christie's a few weeks back for £1,400.

pictures of Engeddi nor Masada, which I wished to undertake, have I been able to execute. Life moves too swiftly when the taste of patrons needs so long to take the form of action.-Contemporary Review.

[Never again have I seen my son Soleiman, although at Jerusalem and Bethlehem I have sent messages to him and received his greet

ing in return. I was told that he had been wounded and was feeble in health, that the certain that my informants were quite clear sheikship was held by another, but it was not about his identity. Nicola had disappeared from Jerusalem when I returned; the last I saw of him was in 1854, when we met by chance on board the French Messagerie boat, Tancred, where his destiny to get into peril fol. lowed him. He was on his way to the Crimea to serve under the British flag in the Commissariat Service.]

GRAVE, strong, and fearless as the warlike white-armed woman of the north, but with that richer splendor of beauty which comes from the summer sunneither so closely cloistered as the Athenian wife nor so lovely in her bounteous grace as the Corinthian hetaira-the matron of old Rome is as impressive a figure in history as the one, and she was a more important person in family life, if less seductive in society, than the other. She had as much personal freedom as had the women of the north, though with less acknowledged political power, and she had more legal consideration than the Hellene; and both by the weight of her own character and the value of her family alliance, her influence in affairs was direct and important. In early times that influence was valiant, patriotic, heroic. In a few instances it was elevating and refining. But, as time went on, and the stern purity necessary to a young people fighting for its existence passed into the corruption always accompanying luxury and stability, the women, following the law of their sex, became even more profligate than the men, and the influence which had once made for righteousness was used only for the increase of civic degradation and the more rapid dissolution of social virtue.

In the early days the strictest kind of marriage conferred on the Roman wife privileges which were considerable in extent and honorable in degree. When married by the law of "cum conventione'' and with the form of "confarreatio'-the two eating together the sacred salted cake, and she, the bride,

promising to share with her husband water and fire-she was set in a place of personal dignity and moral power; and though she belonged to the family more than to the community, the State took care of her interests and provided for her welfare. Her legal personality was certainly merged in that of her husband, who was emphatically the master of the household; she was counted as one of his family, and was no longer under the protection of her own; but she was secure from his caprice and could not be divorced at his pleasure. Nor might she be ill used; and she was as much mistress in the house as he was master. "Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia," she said to her bridegroom when she was lifted over his threshold as a reminiscence of the time when she had been won by violence and carried off by force. Where thou art lord I am lady," was her half-threatening promise of self-assertion. And the Roman woman was not one to use this formula falteringly-not one whose dignity of command could be easily softened or deflected by love.

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Bound by this double link of law and religion, the wife's legal position was that of her husband's child; but she was protected against that breadth of paternal power *which made the father both the law and the executive in his own household and enabled him to sell his children into slavery, or to put them to death for certain offences. She was free from the domination of her own father, and her husband's was restricted.

* Lessened and restricted by Marcus Aurelius Antoninus.