"easily payable to you for any purpose to which you might see fit to apply it," had quite as much weight with the prophet as Miss le Strange's cry for light and guid

ance.

The marriage at length took place in June 1872, and after a year's residence in Paris, where Oliphant continued to represent the Times,' a sudden summons from Brocton broke up their household, and Oliphant with his wife and mother set out for America. A greater trial of his faith could scarcely have been made than to ask him to bring the young wife of a year to the life which he knew awaited her at Brocton-and such a life! but Oliphant must have been still firm in his trust in Harris. At first Harris seems to have dealt rather leniently with the newcomers. Oliphant, for the good of his soul and the benefit of the community, was sent to Wall Street to wrestle with the bulls and bears of New York finance, and had the honour of crossing swords, non sine gloria," with the great Jay Gould himself. The best outcome of this experience was the "Autobiography of a JointStock Company," the memory of which must still remain green in the minds of readers of Maga.' Another American contribution in a similar vein of scarcasm was "Irene Macgillicuddy," which produced a scarcely less powerful sensation on the other side of the Atlantic than Piccadilly' had done in England. There is a buoyancy about Oliphant's writings during his Brocton life which we are tempted to ascribe to a reaction against his environments: they afforded a safety-valve for the feelings of disillusionment which, we think, must have speedily followed upon his second arrival at Brocton.

66

VOL. CL.-NO. DCCCCIX.

While he was in Wall Street, his wife and mother were washing the pocket-handkerchiefs of the community or working in their cottage garden. Mrs Laurence Oliphant, however, appears to have been occasionally allowed to join her husband in New York, and even to accompany him on a visit to Lord and Lady Dufferin in Canada. But this happiness was too great to last. The prophet's fiat went forth, and husband and wife were separated. Mrs Oliphant makes a very shrewd guess at the reasons:—

these two likely to act upon each "As iron sharpeneth iron, so were other, perhaps to a consciousness of the wonderful character of their subjection, perhaps to independent plans of their own, both of which would have weakened the master's hold upon them, and made their emancipation merely a question of time." Harris had meanwhile opened up a new settlement in California, "where he cultivated vines and swayed the souls who had committed themselves into his hands;" and thither Mrs Laurence Oliphant was ordered to repair, while her husband was to stand fast in New York. Mrs Laurence Oliphant did not remain long in the Santa Rosa establishment. When Laurence went to California to visit his wife, he was positively refused permission to see her, and promptly ordered back to Brocton; and his wife soon after quitted Santa Rosa, and endeavoured to earn her living as a teacher. Though aided by kind friends of her husband's, her life for some years was one of hard toil and of considerable privation. Although away from Harris, she was still under his influence, and very probably working under his commands.

In 1878, Oliphant was back in England alone. By this time

B

opened, and though he had not yet directly revolted, he was look ing about him for an independent sphere of action. Events at that time were directing prominent attention to the Turkish empire and to Palestine, and Oliphant conceived the project of carrying out a colonisation of the Holy Land by Jews from the countries where the oppression of the race was most prevalent. With his usual With his usual energy he at once set out for Palestine, and the interest in the country which this visit inspired led him ultimately to select it as his future home. The literary results of this journey took the form of the 'Land of Gilead,' a considerable portion of which appeared in the Magazine, and in which Laurence Oliphant's wonderful descriptive powers are seen at their best. But his project, like all others that depend upon the concurrence of the Sublime Porte, ended in failure.

On his return to England he was joined by Mrs Laurence Oliphant, who had seen the necessity of shielding her husband from the aspersions to which their separation and her condition in California had exposed him in society. She must have taken this step in despite of Harris, and from their union in London the date of their emancipation from his despotism may be calculated. But when the final quarrel came, when Oliphant was obliged to assert his independence, and claim his rights in defiance of the prophet, it was a sore trial to his feelings. He had gone out to America to see his mother, who was dying of a painful malady, aggravated by the mortifying discovery that her faith had been misplaced, and that her idol was after all but clay, for rumours had reached Brocton regarding the Santa Rosa settlement sufficient to

who had been left in the former community. Oliphant took his mother with him to Santa Rosa in hopes of benefit to her health, and they visited Harris, but were far from graciously received. Mrs Oliphant mentions a significant incident, characteristic of the Harrisian system, which occurred during this visit :

"The sight of a valuable ring belonging to Lady Oliphant, which had been given over with all other treasured things into the keeping of the prophet, upon the finger of a member of his household, brought a keen gleam of conviction, both to the one who doubted already and the other who did not know whether to doubt, or, as on former occasions, to gulp down every indignity and obey."

to

Lady Oliphant died soon after this visit, and Harris seems have taken the initiative of declaring war, and to have telegraphed to Mrs Laurence Oliphant requesting her permission to have her husband placed in a lunatic asylum. No such sanction was of course given, and Oliphant set about to recover his property in Harris's hands, a portion of which it is satisfactory to know the prophet was compelled piecemeal to disgorge. In a letter to the

Standard' of June 8, Mr J. D. Walker, a Californian friend of Laurence Oliphant, who was of great assistance in disentangling his pecuniary relations with Harris, writes:—

"On the plea that the money placed by the Oliphants with Mr Harris was placed subject to withdrawal by them, should they at any time sever their connection with him, I insisted on Mr Harris making restitution. After considerable correspondence, a personal visit from my lawyer, and threats of legal proceedings, Mr Harris deeded to Oliphant the Brocton property; this, Oliphant informed me, represented some fifteen thou

sand pounds, placed with Mr Harris by him and his wife. The property has been sold within the past few months for some eight thousand pounds, and the proceeds distributed in terms of Oliphant's will, so that they are still large contributors to the Harris community.”

In spite of all they had suffered at the hands of Harris, and of the active hostility which they had good reason to believe their revolt had brought upon them, it is remarkable that the Oliphants ever afterwards continued to speak of him with respect, and to extenuate any charges that were brought against him and his system. Even in discussing matters which had directly affected themselves, and regarding which an expression of resentment would have been both justifiable and expected, Laurence Oliphant was wont, if he did not take the blame wholly to himself, at least to find plausible excuses for the prophet's share of the transaction. Harris unquestionably did supply some traits for the character of Masollam, but we have good reason to believe that Laurence Oliphant did not intend Masollam to be received as either a caricature or a likeness of the Brocton prophet.

Before finally quitting the Brocton episode, we must congratulate Mrs Oliphant upon the skill with which she has traversed this delicate and complicated episode of Laurence Oliphant's life. She has preserved a rare moderation when dealing with passages which must have prompted the indignation of any author; she has spared no pains to get at the truth, and has had scruples in telling it; and she has applied her rivalled power of mental analysis to lay bare the aims and motives on both sides with an impartiality that it must have been very difficult to preserve. We shall prob

un

ably never know the exact truth regarding the relations of Harris with Laurence Oliphant ; but should it ever come out, it will, we believe, be found that Mrs Oliphant has penetrated into its essence, and done substantial justice to all parties.

It

In 1882, Laurence Oliphant settled at the little town of Haifa on the Bay of Acre, and there and in his mountain home on Carmel, at the Druse village of Dalieh, the remainder of his life was spent, varied with occasional trips to England. There can be no doubt that these years in Palestine were the best and happiest of his life. They were full of literary activity. Contributions came steadily pouring into 'Maga' upon all sorts of topics, and all characterised by Oliphant's peculiar vivacity and power. was there that Altiora Peto' and 'Masollam' were written, and later on the two works 'Sympneumata and 'Scientific Religion,' which embodied the peculiar views of his mature years. The life which was lived at Haifa was at least free from the degrading and objectionable features of the Brocton usage; and, as far as Oliphant and his wife were concerned, it seems to have been one of active benevolence and practical philanthropy. Into the religious principles which regulated the little family at Haifa, whither some few of the remaining members of the Brocton community were soon attracted, we do not choose to enter. England too contributed a small band of inquirers, the most distinguished tinguished of whom was Mr Haskett Smith, an author and clergyman of the Church of England, who became Oliphant's righthand man in his work. The Haifa community never got beyond the experimental stage, and Laurence Oliphant was still obviously feeling his way towards a

faith when his career was cut short whether or not, had he been spared to perfect his views, they would have made a wider impression upon thinkers, it is impossible to say. To us both 'Sympneumata' and and Scientific Religion' are as unintelligible in their teaching as they are mysterious in their ascribed origin; and it would be of little profit to discuss speculations which had no better foundation than an individual imagination, and which never got farther than the rudimentary stage. The death of his wife undoubtedly affected Laurence Oliphant's view of things spiritual in a very marked manner, and induced him to translate dreams into actual experiences; but it also deepened the seriousness of his views of life, as well as led him to indulge in wilder conjectures regarding futurity and the unseen. Yet the old fire of genius burned brightly, and Oliphant was probably never more his natural self than when penning those records of his eventful career which appeared in the Magazine under the title of "Moss from a Rolling Stone."

The

He paid a final visit to America in the spring of 1888, and, to the astonishment of his friends, returned to be married to Miss Rosamond Dale Owen. But the hand of death was upon him. "loss of spiritual influx," of which he had for some time complained since the death of his first wife, was really the loss of vital power under an internal malady. A few days after his marriage he was struck down with illness, and though he rallied repeatedly, he was never able to shake off his mortal disorder. "His last conscious moment on Sunday," says his wife, "was one of hope and effort lifewards. He passed

away as into a tranquil sleep, and woke four hours after in another world, or rather under another form, without having tasted death either physically or spiritually.”

Was Laurence Oliphant's a wasted life? The answer to that question will depend upon the view we take of the work to which he specially devoted himself, and which he had little more than begun when he was called away. If literary fame be a legitimate aim in life, he certainly earned a fair share of it. If active goodness within one's own sphere and possibilities be a duty to the world, then Oliphant duly discharged his part. If social distinction be an honour worth striving for, then Oliphant with slender advantages outstripped most of his equals in the race. If self-sacrifice confers a title to public respect, then comparatively few can boast of having surrendered more than Laurence Oliphant did. And if we believe that his views were mistaken, that he himself was the victim of a delusion, it detracts nothing from the generous nobility of his character. He was a man who well deserved so admirable a memorial as these volumes supply; and there is no one who ever met him who will not heartily endorse the eloquent words with which Mrs Oliphant lays down her pen:

"The generation, not only of his contemporaries but of their children, must be exhausted, indeed, before the name of Laurence Oliphant will cease to conjure up memories of all that was most brilliant in intellect, most tender in heart, most trenchant in attack, most eager to succour in life. There has been no such bold satirist, no such cynic philosopher, no such devoted enthusiast, no adventurer so daring and gay, no religious teacher so absolute and visionary, in this Victorian age, round towards its end, and which now beginning to holds in its brilliant roll no more attractive and interesting name."

A

IT was a beautiful day. grey mist curled up from the lake and clung to the dark ravines of the mountains. As the sun grew warmer, a gentle breeze fanned the still water, and the mists rolled up to the mountain-tops. A few lazy patches lingered behind, lost in the deep gorges of the hills, where, blindly rubbing against the dark pines, they gradually melted before the mid-day heat, as luckless jelly-fish stranded on a sandy beach slowly evaporate under the fierce sun.

The steamer was crowded with tourists,-girl-schools, spectacled Germans, smart young Frenchmen, the usual sprinkling of English, the inevitable curate or country rector, two friars, and one Swiss pasteur. This latter was a curious fossil. He was short, wizened, and decrepit. He wore a tall hat on the back of his head like the hatter in 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'; his coat was long, his waistcoat low, and his neck-tie meagre and not clean. It was difficult to look at him and then at the friars without thinking of history. I never can see a friar, with his corded frock, sandalled feet, and bare head, without seeming to see romantic pictures of the past. All other costumes change. If I were intimately acquainted with the cut of the friar's dress in past ages, perhaps I should notice slight differences; but in the main the clothes they wore when the monks tore Hypatia to pieces, when Peter the Hermit preached, when Bernard and Abelard ruled their monasteries, when Chaucer wrote, when the fires of Smithfield blazed and the Inquisition terrified, are much the same

clothes they wear now. The colour may be different; but black, brown, or grey, a friar centuries ago would be a friar now.

They are no anachronism but a reality. I could not help being struck at the contrast they afforded, those men apart, with their bleared eyes, sensual lips, dirty beards, as they came on board amid a crowd of simple schoolgirls and startled English matrons. Living assertors of eighteen centuries of celibacy, they moved about amid that ship-load of nineteenth-century frivolity. Their power was gone, but their picturesqueness remained.

And that insignificant comic little figure was the representative of the power that had supplanted them. How well he seemed to typify the dry syllogisms of that dreary controversy of Predestination and Free-will! Could any

spark of poetic fire come from so wizened and matter-of-fact a being? Vates and Sacerdos are near akin, and those poetic souls who like mystery in their religion will always prefer a priesthood whose garb is poetic. And those who think a religion cannot be typified by a garb will prefer the dull prose of common dress.

At the end of the lake I left the steamer. I intended to walk over the mountains by a little path marked in the Swiss Ordnance Survey, and which would lead me across the frontier into Savoy. The girl-school landed also. It is curious the way mothers dress their fair daughters abroad. Many of these girls were undoubtedly English. Fortunately they disguised the fact very well.

What shapeless frocks, what