The Red City: A Novel of the Second Administration of President Washington

by S. Weir Mitchell

  XXVII

  Both mothers had accepted a situation which neither entirely liked; butthe atmosphere was cleared, and the people most concerned were wellsatisfied and happy. Miss Gainor joyously distributed the news. Gaycousins called, and again the late summer afternoons saw in the gardenmany friends who had sturdily stood by De Courval in his day ofdiscredit.

  If Randolph was cool to him, others were not, and the office work andthe treaty were interesting, while in France affairs were better, andthe reign of blood had passed and gone.

  The warm days of August went by, and De Courval's boat drifted on theriver at evening, where he lay and talked to Margaret, or listened, awell-contented man. There were parties in the country, dinners with thePeters at Belmont, or at historic Cliveden. Schmidt, more grave thanusual, avoided these festivities, and gave himself to lonely rides, orto long evenings on the river when De Courval was absent or otherwiseoccupied, as was commonly the case.

  When late one afternoon he said to Rene, "I want you to lend me Margaretfor an hour," she cried, laughing, "Indeed, I lend myself; and I make mylord vicomte obey, as is fitting before marriage. I have not yetpromised to obey after it, and I am at thy service, Friend Schmidt."

  Rene laughed and said, "I am not left much choice," whereupon Schmidtand Margaret went down to the shore, and soon their boat lay quiet farout on the river.

  "They are talking," said the young lover. "I wonder what about."

  In fact they had not exchanged even the small current coin ofconventional talk; both were silent until Schmidt laid down his oars,and the boat silently drifted upward with the tide. It was the woman whospoke first.

  "Ah, what a true friend thou hast been!"

  "Yes, I have that way a talent. Why did you bring me out here to flatterme?"

  "I did think it was thou proposed it; but I do wish to talk with thee.My mother is not well pleased because the other mother is ill pleased. Ido want every one I love to feel that all is well with Rene and me, andthat the love I give is good for him."

  "It is well for you and for him, my child, and as for that grim fortressof a woman, she will live to be jealous of your mother and of Rene. Aneast wind of a woman. She will come at last to love you, Pearl."

  "Ah, dost thou really think so?"

  "Yes."

  "And thou art pleased. We thought thou wert grave of late and less--lessgay."

  "I am more than pleased, Margaret. I am not sad, but only grieved overthe coming loss out of my life of simple days and those I love, becausesoon, very soon, I go away to a life of courts and idle ceremonies, andperhaps of strife and war."

  For a moment or two neither spoke. The fading light seemed somehow tothe girl to fit her sense of the gravity of this announcement of a vastloss out of life. Her eyes filled as she looked up.

  "Oh, why dost thou go? Is not love and reverence and hearts that thankthee--oh, are not these enough? Why dost thou go?"

  "You, dear, who know me will understand when I answer with oneword--duty."

  "I am answered," she said, but the tears ran down her cheeks.

  "Rene will some day tell you more, indeed, all; and you will know why Imust leave you." Then, saying no more, he took up the oars and pulledinto the shore. Rene drew up the boat.

  "Will you go out with me now, Margaret?"

  "Not this evening, Rene," she said, and went slowly up to the house.

  On one of these later August days, Mr. Hammond, the English minister, athis house in the country was pleased, being about to return home, to askthe company of Mr. Wolcott of the Treasury. There were no other guests,and after dinner the minister, to add zest to his dessert, handed toWolcott the now famous intercepted Despatch No. 10, sent back by LordGrenville after its capture, to make still further mischief. Having beentold the story of the wanderings of this fateful document, the Secretaryread it with amazement, and understood at once that it was meant byHammond to injure Randolph, whose dislike of the Jay treaty and what ityielded to England was well known in London. Much disturbed by what hegathered, Wolcott took away the long document, agreeing to give acertified copy to Hammond, who, having been recalled, was well pleasedto wing this Parthian arrow.

  The next day Wolcott showed it to his colleagues, Pickering and theAttorney-General. As it seemed to them serious, they sent an urgentmessage to the President, which brought back the weary man from his restat Mount Vernon. On his return, the President, despite Randolph's desirefor further delay, called a cabinet meeting, and with a strongremonstrance against the provision clause which yielded the hated rightsof search, decided to ratify the treaty with England.

  The next day he was shown the long-lost, intercepted Despatch No. 10.

  Greatly disturbed, he waited for several days, and then again calledtogether his advisers, naming for Randolph a half-hour later.

  On this, the 19th of August, De Courval, being at his desk, was asked tosee an express rider who had come with a report of Indian outrages onthe frontier. The Secretary of State having gone, as he learned, to acabinet meeting, De Courval made haste to find him, being well aware ofthe grave import of the news thus brought. Arriving at the house of thePresident, he was shown as usual into the drawing-room, and sat down towait among a gay party of little ones who were practising the minuetwith the young Custis children under the tuition of a sad-looking, old_emigre_ gentleman. The small ladies courtesied to the new-comer, themarquis bowed. The violin began again, and Rene sat still, amused.

  Meanwhile in the room on the farther side of the hall, Washingtondiscussed with Pickering and Oliver Wolcott the fateful, intercepteddespatch. A little later Randolph entered the hall, and desiring DeCourval to wait with his papers, joined the cabinet meeting.

  As he entered, the President rose and said, "Mr. Randolph, a matter hasbeen brought to my knowledge in which you are deeply concerned." Hespoke with great formality, and handing him Fauchet's despatch, added,"Here is a letter which I desire you to read and make such explanationin regard to it as you choose."

  Randolph, amazed, ran his eye over the long report of Fauchet to hishome office, the other secretaries watching him in silence. He flushedwith sudden anger as he read on, while no one spoke, and the Presidentwalked up and down the room. This is what the Secretary of State saw inFauchet's despatch:

  Mr. Randolph came to see me with an air of great eagerness just before the proclamation was made in regard to the excise insurrection, and made to me overtures of which I have given you an account in my despatches No. 6 and No. 3. Thus with some thousands of dollars the French Republic could have decided on war or peace. Thus the consciences of the pretended patriots of America have already their prices [_tarif_].

  Then followed abuse of Hamilton and warm praise of Jefferson andMadison.

  "The despatches No. 6 and No. 3 are not here," said the Secretary. Againhe read on. Then at last, looking up, he said, "If I may be permitted toretain this letter a short time, I shall be able to answer everything init in a satisfactory manner." He made no denial of its charges.

  The President said: "Very well. You may wish at present, sir, to stepinto the back room and further consider the matter." He desired to doso, the President saying that he himself wished meanwhile to talk of itwith his other advisers. Mr. Randolph, assenting, retired, and in halfan hour returned. What passed in this interval between the chief and hissecretaries no one knows, nor what went on in the mind of Washington.Mr. Randolph finally left the meeting, saying, "Your Excellency willhear from me." As he was passing the door of the parlor De Courval cameforward to meet him and said, "These papers are of moment, sir. Theyhave just come." The violin ceased, the marquis bowed. The Secretarysaluted the small dames and said hastily: "I cannot consider thesepapers at present. I must go. Give them to the President." Upon this hewent away, leaving De Courval surprised at the agitation of his manner.

  In a few moments Mr. Wolcott also came out, leaving the office dooropen. Meanwhile De Courval waited, as he had been desired to do, untilthe President
should be disengaged.

  The violin went on, the small figures, as he watched them, moved in theslow measures of the dance. Then during a pause one little damecourtesied to him, and the old violinist asked would Monsieur le Vicomtewalk a minuet with Miss Langdon. De Courval, rising, bowed to theanticipative partner, and said, "No; the President may want me." Andagain the low notes of the violin set the small puppets in motion. Of asudden, heard through the open door across the hall, came a voiceresonant with anger. It was Washington who spoke. "Why, ColonelPickering, did he say nothing of moment? He was my friend PeytonRandolph's nephew and adopted son, my aide, my Secretary. I made himAttorney-General, Secretary of State. I would have listened, sir. Neverbefore have I allowed friendship to influence me in an appointment." Thevoice fell; he heard no more, but through it all the notes of the violinwent on, a strange accompaniment, while the children moved in theceremonious measures of the minuet, and Rene crossed the room to escapefrom what he was not meant to hear. A full half hour went by while DeCourval sat amazed at the words he had overheard. At last the Secretaryof War, entering the hall, passed out of the house.

  Then De Courval asked a servant in the gray and red of the Washingtonlivery to take the papers to the President. Hearing him, Washington,coming to the door, said: "Come in, sir. I will see you." The face DeCourval saw had regained its usual serenity. "Pray be seated." He tookthe papers and deliberately considered them. "Yes, they are ofimportance. You did well to wait. I thank you." Then smiling kindly hesaid, "Here has been a matter which concerns you. The despatch you werecharged with taking was captured at sea by an English frigate and sentto us by Mr. Hammond, the British minister. It has been nine months onthe way. I never, sir, had the least doubt of your honor, and permit menow to express my pleasure. At present this affair of the despatch mustremain a secret. It will not be so very long. Permit me also tocongratulate you on your new tie to this country. Mistress Wynne hastold Mrs. Washington of it. Will you do me the honor to dine with us atfour to-morrow? At four."

  Coming out of the room with De Courval, he paused in the hall, havingsaid his gracious words. The violin ceased. The little ladies inbrocades and slippers came to the drawing-room door, a pretty dozen orso, Miss Langdon, Miss Biddle, Miss Morris, and the Custis children.They courtesied low, waiting expectant. Like most shy men, Washingtonwas most at ease with children, loving what fate had denied him. He wasnow and then pleased, as they knew, to walk with one of them the slowmeasure of the minuet, and then to lift up and kiss his small partner inthe dance. Now looking down on them from his great height he said: "No,"with a sad smile at their respectful appeal--"no, not to-day, children.Not to-day. Good-by, Vicomte." As the servant held the door open, Renelooked back and saw the tall figure, the wreck of former vigor, gowearily up the broad staircase.

  "'Not to-day, children, not to-day'"]

  "What has so troubled him?" thought De Courval. "What is this thatEdmund Randolph has done?" Standing on the outer step and taking off hishat, he murmured, "My God, I thank thee!" He heard faintly through theopen window as he walked away the final notes of the violin and thelaughter of childhood as the lesson ended.

  It was only a little way, some three blocks, from the house of thePresident to the State Department, where, at 287 High Street, half adozen clerks now made up the slender staff. De Courval walked slowly tothe office, and setting his business in order, got leave from hisimmediate superior to be absent the rest of the day.

  As he went out, Mr. Randolph passed in. De Courval raised his hat, andsaid, "Good morning, sir." The Secretary turned back. In his hour ofhumiliation and evident distress his natural courtesy did not deserthim.

  "Monsieur," he said in ready French, "the despatch which you sent on itsway has returned. I desire to ask you to forget the injustice I didyou." He was about to add, "My time to suffer has come." He refrained.

  "I thank you," said De Courval; "you could hardly have done otherwisethan you did." The two men bowed, and parted to meet no more. "What doesit all mean?" thought the young man. Thus set free, he would at oncehave gone home to tell of the end of the troubles this wandering paperhad made for him. But Margaret was at Merion for the day, and othersmight wait. He wished for an hour to be alone, and felt as he walkedeastward the exaltation which was natural to a man sensitive as to theslightest reflection on his honor. Thus surely set at ease, with theslow pace of the thoughtful, he moved along what we now call MarketStreet. Already at this time it had its country carts and wide marketsheds, where Schmidt liked to come, pleased with the colors of the fruitand vegetables. Rene heard again with a smile the street-cries,"Calamus! sweet calamus!" and "Peaches ripe! ripe!" as on his first sadday in the city.

  Aimlessly wandering, he turned northward into Mulberry Street, with itsDoric portals, and seeing the many Friends coming out of theirmeeting-house, was reminded that it was Wednesday. "I should like," hethought, "to have said my thanks with them." Moving westward at DelawareFifth Street, he entered the burial-ground of Christ Church, and for awhile in serious mood read what the living had said of the dead.

  "Well, Rene," said Schmidt, behind him, "which are to be preferred,those underneath or those above ground?"

  "I do not know. You startled me. To-day, for me, those above ground."

  "When a man has had both experiences he may be able to answer--or not. Ionce told you I liked to come here. This is my last call upon thesedead, some of whom I loved. What fetched you hither?"

  "Oh, I was lightly wandering with good news," and he told him of thelost Despatch No. 10, and that it was to be for the time a secret.

  "At last!" said Schmidt. "I knew it would come. The world maycongratulate you. I am not altogether grieved that you have been throughthis trial. I, too, have my news. Edmund Randolph has resigned within anhour or so. Mr. Wolcott has just heard it from the President. Oh, thewild confusion of things! If you had not sent that despatch on its way,Randolph would not have fallen. A fatal paper. Let us go home, Rene."

  "But how, sir, does it concern Mr. Randolph?"

  "Pickering has talked of it to Bingham, whom I have seen just now, and Iam under the impression that Fauchet's despatch charged Randolph withasking for money. It was rather vague, as I heard it."

  "I do not believe it," said Rene.

  "A queer story," said Schmidt. "A wild Jacobin's despatch ruins hisSecretary for life, disgraces for a time an _emigre_ noble, turns out acabinet minister--what fancy could have invented a stranger tale? Come,let us leave these untroubled dead."

  Not until December of that year, 1795, did Randolph's pamphlet, known ashis "Vindication," appear. This miserable business concerns us heresolely as it affected the lives of my characters. It has excited muchcontroversy, and even to this day, despite Fauchet's explanations toRandolph and the knowledge we now have of the papers mentioned as No. 3and No. 6, it remains in a condition to puzzle the most astutehistorian. Certainly few things in diplomatic annals are moreinteresting than the adventures of Despatch No. 10. The verdict of "notproven" has been the conclusion reached by some writers, while despiteRandolph's failure to deny the charges at once, as he did later, it ispossible that Fauchet misunderstood him or lied, although why he shouldhave done so is difficult to comprehend.

  The despatch, as we have seen, affected more persons than theunfortunate Secretary. Dr. Chovet left the city in haste when he heardof Schmidt's return, and Aunt Gainor lamented as among the not minorconsequences the demise of her two gods and the blue china mandarin. Shewas in some degree comforted by the difficult business of Margaret'smarriage outfit, for Schmidt, overjoyed at the complete justification ofDe Courval, insisted that there must be no delay, since he himself wasobliged to return to Germany in October.

  Mrs. Swanwick would as usual accept no money help, and the preparationsshould be simple, she said, nor was it a day of vulgar extravagance inbridal presents. Margaret, willing enough to delay, and happy in thepresent, was slowly making her way to what heart there was in theHuguenot dame. Margaret at her joyous be
st was hard to resist, and nowmade love to the vicomtesse, and, ingenuously ready to serve, wooed herwell and wisely in the interest of peace.

  What Madame de Courval most liked about Margaret was a voice as low andas melodious in its changes as her own, so that, as Schmidt said, "It ismusic, and what it says is of the lesser moment." Thus one day atevening as they sat on the porch, Margaret murmured in the ear of thedark lady: "I am to be married in a few days; wilt not thou make me alittle wedding gift?"

  "My dear Margaret," cried Rene, laughing, "the jewels all went inEngland, and except a son of small value, what can my mother give you?"

  "But, him I have already," cried Margaret. "What I want, madame has--oh,and to spare."

  "Well, and what is it I am to give?" said madame, coldly.

  "A little love," she whispered.

  "Ah, do you say such things to Rene?"

  "No, never. It is he who says them to me. Oh, I am waiting. A lapful Iwant of thee," and she held up her skirts to receive the gift.

  "How saucy thou art," said Mrs. Swanwick.

  "It is no affair of thine, Friend Swanwick," cried the Pearl. "I wait,Madame."

  "I must borrow of my son," said the vicomtesse. "It shall be ready atthy wedding. Thou wilt have to wait."

  "Ah," said Rene, "we can wait. Come, let us gather some peaches,Margaret," and as they went down the garden, he added: "My mother said'thou' to you. Did you hear?"

  "Yes, I heard. She was giving me what I asked, and would not say so."

  "Yes, it was not like her," said the vicomte, well pleased.

  The September days went by, and to all outward appearance Madame deCourval accepted with no further protest what it was out of her powerto control. Uncle Josiah insisted on settling upon Margaret a modestincome, and found it the harder to do so because, except Mistress GainorWynne, no one was disposed to differ with him. That lady told him it wasshabby. To which he replied that there would be the more when he died.

  "Get a permanent ground-rent on your grave," said Gainor, "or never willyou lie at rest."

  "It is our last ride," said Schmidt, on October the first, of this, thelast year of my story. They rode out through the busy Red City and upthe Ridge Road, along which General Green led the left wing of the armyto the fight at Germantown, and so to the Wissahickon Creek, where,leaving their horses at an inn, they walked up the stream.

  "_Ach, lieber Himmel_, this is well," said Schmidt as they sat down on abed of moss above the water. "Tell me," he said, "more about thePresident. Oh, more; you were too brief." He insisted eagerly. "I likehim with the little ones. And, ah, that tragedy of fallen ambition andall the while the violin music and the dance. It is said that sometimeshe is pleased to walk a minuet with one of these small maids, and thenwill kiss the fortunate little partner."

  "He did not that day; he told them he could not. He was sad aboutRandolph."

  "When they are old, they will tell of it, Rene." And, indeed, two ofthese children lived to be great-grandmothers, and kissing theirgrandchildren's children, two of whom live to-day in the Red City, badethem remember that the lips which kissed them had often been kissed byWashington.

  "It is a good sign of a man to love these little ones," said Schmidt."What think you, Rene? Was Randolph guilty?"

  "I do not think so, sir. Fauchet was a quite irresponsible person; butwhat that silent old man, Washington, finally believed, I should like toknow. I fear that he thought Randolph had been anything but loyal to hischief."

  For a little while the German seemed lost in thought. Then he said: "Youwill have my horses and books and the pistols and my rapier. My lifewill, I hope, need them no more. I mean the weapons; but who can be sureof that? Your own life will find a use for them, if I be not mistaken.When I am gone, Mr. Justice Wilson will call on you, and do not let thePearl refuse what I shall leave for her. I have lived two lives. One ofmy lives ends here in this free land. Mr. Wilson has, as it were, mywill. In Germany I shall have far more than I shall ever need. Keep mysecret. There are, there were, good reasons for it."

  "It is safe with me."

  "Ah, the dear life I have had here, the freedom of the wilderness, theloves, the simple joys!" As he spoke, he gathered and let fall theautumn leaves strewn thickly on the forest floor. "We shall meet no moreon earth, Rene, and I have loved you as few men love." Again he was longsilent.

  "I go from these wonder woods to the autumn of a life with duties and,alas! naught else. Sometimes I shall write to you; and, Rene, you willspeak of me to your children."

  The younger man said little in reply. He, too, was deeply moved, andsorrowful as never before. As they sat, Schmidt put his hand on Rene'sshoulder. "May the good God bless and keep you and yours through lengthof honorable days! Let us go. Never before did the autumn woodlands seemto me sad. Let us go." He cast down as he rose the last handful of thered and gold leaves of the maple.

  They walked down the creek, still beautiful to-day, and rode home insilence amid the slow down-drift of the early days of the fall.

  In the house Margaret met them joyous. "Oh, Rene, a letter ofcongratulation to me! Think of it--to me, sir, from General Washington!And one to thee!" These letters were to decide in far-away after days afamous French law-suit.

  * * * * *

  The sun shone bright on the little party which passed among the gravesinto the modest Gloria Dei, the church of the Swedes. Here were the manykinsfolk; and Washington's secretary, Colonel Lear, Alexander Hamiltonand Gouverneur Morris, with Binghams and Morrises; Whartons and Biddles,the forefathers of many lines of men since famous in our annals, whetherof war or peace. Women there were also. Mistress Gainor in the front pewwith Mrs. Swanwick and Lady Washington, as many called her, and the gayFederalist dames, who smiled approval of Margaret in her radiantloveliness.

  Schmidt, grave and stately in dark velvet, gave away the bride, and thegood Swedish rector, the Reverend Nicholas Cullin, read the service ofthe church.

  Then at last they passed into the vestry, and, as Margaret decreed, allmust sign the marriage-certificate after the manner of Friends. DeCourval wrote his name, and the Pearl, "Margaret Swanwick," whereatarose merriment and an erasure when, blushing, she wrote, "De Courval."Next came Schmidt. He hesitated a moment, and then wrote "Johan Graf vonEhrenstein," to the surprise of the curious many who followed, signingwith laughter and chatter of young tongues. Meanwhile the Germangentleman, unnoticed, passed out of the vestry, and thus out of mystory.

  "What with all these signatures, it does look, Vicomte," said young Mr.Morris, "like the famous Declaration of Independence."

  "Humph!" growled Josiah Langstroth, "if thee thinks, young man, that itis a declaration of independence, thee is very much mistaken."

  "Not I," said Rene, laughing; and they went out to where MistressGainor's landau was waiting, and so home to the mother's house.

  Here was a note from Schmidt.

  DEAR CHILDREN,

  To say good-by is more than I will to bear. God bless you both! I go at once.

  JOHAN GRAF VON EHRENSTEIN.

  There were tears in the Pearl's eyes.

  "He told me he would not say good-by. And is that his real name, Rene?No, it is not; I know that much."

  Rene smiled. "Some day," he said, "I shall tell you."

  In a few minutes came his honor, Mr. Justice Wilson, saying: "I fearedto be late. Madame," to Margaret, "here is a remembrance for you fromour friend."

  "Oh, open it!" she cried. "Ah, if only he were here!"

  There was a card. It said, "Within is my kiss of parting," and as shestood in her bridal dress, Rene fastened the necklace of great pearlsabout her neck, while Madame de Courval looked on in wonder at theprincely gift.

  Then the Judge, taking them aside into Schmidt's room, said: "I am togive you, Vicomte, these papers which make you for your wife the trusteeof our friend's estate, a large one, as you may know. Mycongratulations, Vicomtesse."

>   "He told me!" said Margaret. "He told me, Rene." She was too moved tosay more.

  In an hour, for this was not a time of wedding breakfasts, they were ontheir way to Cliveden, which Chief-Justice Chew had lent for theirhoneymoon.

  * * * * *

  So ends my story, and thus I part with these, the children of my mind.Many of them lived, and have left their names in our history; others,perhaps even more real to me, I dismiss with regret, to become for me,as time runs on, but remembered phantoms of the shadow world offiction.

  _L'envoi_

  Before De Courval and his wife returned to France, the Directory hadcome and gone, the greatest of soldiers had taken on the rule, and thegrave Huguenot mother had gone to her grave in Christ Church yard.

  Mrs. Swanwick firmly refused to leave her country. "Better, far better,"she said, "Margaret, that thou shouldst be without me. I shall live tosee thee again and the children."

  In after years in Penn's City men read of Napoleon's soldier, Generalthe Comte de Courval and of the American beauty at the Emperor's court,while over their Madeira the older men talked of the German gentlemanwho had been so long among them, and passed so mysteriously out of theknowledge of all.

  * * * * *

  Transcriber's note:

  1. All punctuation inconsistencies between the "List of Illustrations"and the "Illustrations" themselves have been retained as printed.

  2. Footnotes have been moved to the end of the paragraph where thefootnote anchor appears.

  3, Punctuation corrections:

  p. 72, removed leading double quote (In the hall Dr. Chovet....)

  p. 121, changed comma to period (of what was to come.)

  p. 145, changed period to comma (will laugh, and soon it will be)

  p. 345, added closing quote ("...waiting in New York Harbor.")

  p. 375, changed comma to period (I do not need anything.)

  p. 394, removed ending double quote (figure and the occasion.)

  p. 415, changed period to comma (I want of thee,)

  4. Spelling corrections: (number in parentheses) indicate the number oftimes the word was spelled correctly in the original text.

  p. 22, "Mon dieu!" to "Mon Dieu!" (26) (translated: my God!)

  p. 73, "himslf" to "himself" (86) (he could avenge himself)

  p. 169, "mon dieu" to "mon Dieu" (26)

  p. 275, "mon dieu!" to "mon Dieu!" (26)

  p. 320, "Angles" to "Angels" (the Angels find the marge)

  5. Word variations used in this text which have been retained:

  "Ach" (unitalicized p. 1-95) and "Ach" (always italicized thereafter) "a-foot" (1) and "afoot" (2) "appal" (1), "appalled" (4), "appalling" (2) "bed-room" (1) and "bedroom" (1) "candle-light" (1) and "candlelight" (2) "match-making" (1) and "matchmaking" (1) "practice" (2) and "practise(ed)" (2) "Shakspere" (1) and "Shakespeare" (2) "ship-master" (1) and "shipmaster" (1) "vandoo" (1) and "vendue" (1) (in W.E.D. "auction") "vendue-master" (1) and "vendue master" (1)

  6. Words using the [oe] ligature in the original text are: [OE]il de B[oe]uf, c[oe]ur, and man[oe]uvered. This ligature has been replaced with "oe".

  7. General notes:

  All punctuation inconsistencies between the "List of Illustrations" and the "Illustrations" themselves have been retained as printed.

  p. 120, in the phrase (..., Who will shew us) the capitalization of "Who" after a comma has been retained as printed. Used as a noun.

  The printer inconsistently italicized phrases and names. All have been retained as printed in the original text.