ceed? Can no means be found other than the use of the soldiery to prevent "what is practically civil war in another form"?

So long as labour leaders are free to advocate and support "sympathetic" and national strikes without endangering the funds of the trade unions, the problem appears to be insoluble; but upon the lowest grounds of personal advantage and self-preservation labour leaders would act with greater caution and an increased sense of responsibility if, through their advice, trade unions were liable to be mulcted in damages for the wrongs which the leaders had instigated the members to commit. The repeal of the Trade Disputes Act would destroy the vehicle of revolution, and would put trade unions in a position similar to that occupied by other corporate bodies with rights and corresponding obligations. It would advance the position of true trade unionism, and would probably meet with a surprisingly large measure of support among the trade unionists themselves.

The spirit of revolt fostered by the "new morality," and developed through the Trade

Disputes Act, presents a political phenomenon pregnant with danger to the State and highly embarrassing to the Radical Government. It will not be dissipated by panic legislation nor suppressed by military demonstrations. Its appearance is generally viewed with feelings of surprise and alarm, because the source of its existence does not lie on the surface of polities. The meaning of the "new morality" will only be appreciated by those who are not themselves inoculated with its principles. His Majesty's present advisers will most certainly prove unequal to the task of apprehending its meaning, for modern Radicalism renders its adherents oblivious to the perils which beset modern democracy.

As it is the privilege of the Unionist party alone to appreciate the dangerous condition into which the English proletariat is drifting, so it is the duty of the Unionist party to apply the remedy without flinching. Let them in this matter be true to their principles theirs is the opportunity, and theirs will be the great reward.

:

ARTHUR PAGE.

My first sight of Monsieur Héger was on a beautiful warm sunny day in late September, and he was on a ladder in the cour pruning the grape-vines that grew up the sides of the house. Grapes growing out of doors at all—even if they never arrived at anything very grand -appeared in my eyes, accustomed only to a big, cold, northern town, a wonderful, beautiful thing, so to get my first look at Charlotte Brontë's hero, the original of Paul Emmanuel, in such a setting seemed to me particularly delightful.

The school buildings formed a kind of long parallelogram, incomplete certainly, for they stopped half-way on one side and were there joined to the opposite side by a large and charming hall, too wide to be called merely a corridor, which was designated as "la galérie." This had a fine floor, tesselated in black and white, and the sides were all big windows and doors. One side thus looked out on a quadrangle surrounded by the school buildings, and the other on the garden, so well known from the description in 'Villette.' It was large for a town garden. On one side was the back of Monsieur Héger's private house and then a very high wall, on the other the vine clad, rose - covered berceau and a corresponding wall. In summer the berceau was filled with tables and chairs, and small classes were VOL CXCI.—NO. MCLVIII.

occasionally held in it; much plain and fancy needlework was accomplished there, and many a pleasant game played in its "chequered shade."

There was room for many large trees, pear and cherry, lilac and laburnum, between the berceau and Monsieur Héger's house, and still more between the boundary walls. At the extreme end of the garden there was in my time a most interesting building,in fact, to us young people it seemed almost a hallowed spot. This was Mdlle. Louise Héger's studio. What a shrine beauty and mystery it seemed to my uncultured youthful eyes! I suppose it must have been of wood, but I cannot remember exactly; certainly a wooden staircase led up to it. How elated I felt when I was first invited there! That was an honour about on a par with being noticed favourably by Monsieur Héger.

of

Monsieur Héger was short, but dignified in carriage. His hair was white and long, though he was bald from forehead to crown. He was cleanshaven, and had keen piercing blue eyes. He could read the finest print without spectacles then, in his old age, but he had been extremely short-sighted in his youth and obliged to wear very strong glasses. This he told me himself. He generally wore a little white necktie, such as our clergy used to wear. I was not presented to him on 2 I

that first occasion, but merely to have seen Charlotte's Monsieur Paul was enough for

once.

Before I did meet him I was warned that I was never to speak of the Brontës to him or his daughters, as he had been greatly incensed at Charlotte's having drawn such an untruthful picture of his wife as Madame Beck. When I had known him for a good while, however, of his own accord he spoke to me about them. He was very good to me, and advised me what French books to read and what not to read, relegating some that had been permitted me to the "trentecinquième rang"! I think he could read English quite well, but did not speak it much, -unlike his daughters, who spoke it excellently. He liked, however, to make a little sensation sometimes by his use of what he could say. This consisted of confronting me, halfembarrassed, half- amused, in some passage or room, where he was surrounded by satellites, and giving utterance in a clear, staccato tone to some witty sally or piquant exaggeration. Once when it was "I-love-you," his daughter, Mdlle. Louise, the artist, laughingly expostulated with him, calling him "petit père," and told him he must go no further than "I-like-you"; but having seen how scandalised the onlookers appeared, he was delighted and repeated

his effort!

Sometimes, after some pithy or whimsical remark to me in

French, he would turn away in simulated haste, saying, "Mais, time-is-money.' In fact, he pretended to think that was the motto of all English people.

He had long ago been the Professor of Literature in the Brussels University, but had retired years before I knew him. He used, however, to give an occasional literature lesson, which was much enjoyed by the majority. I have had to qualify my last statement, for once in a while some poor luckless victim would fall under his ire because of some particularly stupid answer. Ah! then there was unhappiness, for, not to speak of words, he could wither you with a scarcely perceptible movement of lip and nostril—or exalt you with the faintest flicker of an eyelid.

These lessons were often just on a simple fable by La Fontaine, but with his reading and interpretation they became veritable drama. What the whole school perhaps one hundred and fifty in number -enjoyed immensely was to be specially invited to an afternoon reading by Monsieur Héger. He read sometimes a drama, sometimes a narrative poem, and we absolutely lived in it for those two or three hours. He was a magnificent reader-you saw, you felt, you laughed, you cried, you grew hot, you grew cold, you joyed, you mourned, you went through a riot of emotion, exactly in proportion as he wished. He was compelling. His face was the most mobile possible; he

could express anything he liked in it. He made "petits yeux to perfection; but in talking, perhaps he made his profoundest impression by a long deliberate pause after each word, accompanied by a steadfast, often half-mocking, gaze at the person whom he was honouring with his conversation. I believe he liked to watch the emotions he could produce with his ever-changing facial expressions and his amazing turns of thought and temper.

On one of the rare occasions when he spoke to me about the Brontës, while acknowledging the genius of 'Villette,' he said it was "bien vilain "of Charlotte to have written that way about them,-"mais," he added in his impressive staccato way, "c'est le meilleur vin qui fait le vinaigre le plus acide."

He had quantities of Charlotte's and Emily's French exercises. With girlish stupidity I asked him how he had come to keep them. "Comment?" said he; "mais, parceque j'y ai vu le génie," and thereupon he gave me one of Emily's compositions, which has ever since been one of my most treasured possessions. It has travelled with me across the ocean, and over the mountains and down to the Golden Gate to be shown to American girls who cared to see and touch something actually written by a Brontë. It was corrected in pencil by Monsieur Héger himself, and was not at all on the subject asked for. They hardly ever wrote on the given subject, he said, but chose their own,

saying they could not write on his.

Most of this has touched more on his intellectual side, but I many a time saw his keen eyes softened to the gentlest expression, and his whole rugged face vivid with benevolence as he called out of a window on an upper storey of his house down to some child in the garden, "Viens donc, vite, tiens ton tablier," and then dropped some chocolate or a brioche into the outspread apron of some happy little girl.

That was Monsieur Constantin Héger.

when I knew

Madame Héger, who was the "Directrice" of the school in the Brontës' day, had long ago given over the management to two of her daughters, middleaged women them. Madame Héger at that time was very old, but stately, and, they said, did little but attend to her prayers and read books of devotion. She never came into the school premises, and when I met her sometimes it was by invitation to the private house, which communicated with the school. Naturally she did not care much about English young women, since one had so distorted her character that a Madame Beck had been evolved out of her. She was nevertheless very nice to me and gave me her photograph. Her daughters always addressed her as "Vous," though they called their father "Tu." She would not accept any English girls in the school for a great many years after the publication of 'Villette, and issued the strictest injunc

tions refusing entrance to the crowds of English and Americans who flocked to the house, hoping to see the places rendered so interesting through the story of Paul Emmanuel and Lucy Snowe.

Monsieur and Madame Héger had then living four daughters and one son. Monsieur Héger once spoke to me about another son who had been ill and went to the south of England for a change, but had died there. The surviving son, Monsieur Paul Héger, was a physician in Brussels. He and his wife and their little child used to come sometimes to visit the old people.

One of the daughters, too, was married and settled in Brussels. She had several nice little children, and seemed very pleasant, kindly inviting me to her house several times.

The other three ladies I, of course, knew much better, as Mdlle. Maria and Mdlle. Claire were the heads of the school; and Mdlle. Louise, the artist, painted in her studio at the bottom of the garden-and invited me in.

Mdlle. Claire's work was principally with the day-girls, so that I did not come into much intimate contact with her; but when I did meet her she was always very agreeable. If I remember rightly, I think she was fond of a jest, which naturally establishes a friendly relation.

was a splendid organiser, and everything went like clockwork; and she knew everything that went on in her house by day and by night. When the weekly or fortnightly I forget now which it was-reports were read out her comments were most apposite; and her little talks on religion, ethics, and savoir vivre were excellent in tone and pithily delivered. She had a dread of fire, and long after everyone else was in bed and asleep she would go round the whole house with a little lamp in her hand, visiting bedrooms and dormitories to see if her sixty or seventy girls were all right, gases extinguished, and night-lights burning properly. She liked people to be frank. In fact, she used to speak of frankness almost as if it were a cardinal virtue. Although, owing to her position, she had to be very strict, she was kind and just and very human. I have seen her deeply touched by little demonstrations of loyalty that she had not expected.

Her

an