Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 687

Little less general and varied is the announcement 'Admission One Shilling.' There may be select accommodation at higher terms in some instances, and 'back seats' at lower terms in others; but a shilling marks the most prevalent charge. We have pretty well outlived the shilling panoramas, dioramas, cosmoramas, and needlework exhibitions; nevertheless, a constantly increasing supply of other kinds tempts the public. The Royal Academy, the summer and winter exhibitions at the British Institution, the French Gallery, the German Gallery, several watercolour exhibitions, are each 'One Shilling;' as are likewise special pictures of note, and the collected works of particular artists. If we long for a little science made easy, a shilling will unlock the gates of the Polytechnic Institution, the Zoological Gardens, Westminster Aquarium, and many another place. Perhaps the best shillingworth is the Crystal Palace; but it is only necessary to glance down the advertising columns of the daily papers to see how varied are the temptations of a similar kind, all alike in this if in no other particular – that a shilling secures admission to any and all. Shilling promenade concerts are quite notable; while classical and choral concerts are likewise brought within the same category. Shilling 'Entertainments,' as they are called – neither theatres nor operas, neither exhibitions nor concerts, but comprising something of two or more of these – are now so numerous amongst us that they cannot easily be counted: black (or blackened) minstrels, Psychos and other automata, conjurers, music-halls, monopolologue entertainments, Tom Thumbs, 'Two-headed Nightingales,' &c.

These characteristics of everyday life and its doings are to a considerable extent applicable to most of the great towns of England; but we are treating them in special relation to the widely stretching and ever-growing metropolis. And this leads us to draw attention to a circumstance which renders shilling entertainments and amusements more and more accessible every year. In days which some among us will remember, London attractions were available to few except those who for the time sojourned within its limit. No suburban railway trains, few suburban omnibuses, and still fewer stage-coaches, there was a deficiency in the means for bringing the public to the central regions of the metropolis, and of taking them home again when the day's pleasuring was ended. It is not too much to say that, for all practical purposes of locomotion, Kensington and Westbourne, Kennington and Walworth, Hackney and Stepney, Holloway and Kilburn, were farther out of town then than Richmond and Croydon – nay, Windsor and Gravesend – are now. Saying nothing of omnibuses and cabs, we are within the truth in stating that a hundred railway stations are easily reached from the metropolis by trains starting at eleven or twelve o'clock at night at cheap fares. What is the consequence? The father of a family can arrange for wife and senior children (juniors of course included in the pantomime season) a visit from the near suburbs and the more distant environs, to places of interest in the metropolis; knowing that there will be the means of returning home after the enjoyments of the evening are ended. How this tells upon the shilling will be readily understood by those who know the prevalent prices of admission to public places.

May we not find a clue to the solution, at the Mint? We all know that it is more convenient to make our payments, so far as possible, in one coin than in two or more, let it be of gold, silver, or copper. Now, as a matter of ascertained fact, the Mint produces a larger number of shillings than of any other denomination of silver coin. For instance, in ten recent years, twenty-six million shillings were produced at the Mint, against seventeen million sixpences and nine million florins – the other silver coins being relatively few in number. Why it is that the Mint puts eighty-seven and a quarter grains of sterling silver into each and every shilling, and never deviates from that quantity (rigorously 87.27272 grains), we are not here called upon to inquire; but unquestionably the determination exerts some effect on prices, within the limit, at anyrate, of the matters discussed in the present article – intensified by the predominance of this particular kind of silver coin over others. If we were to abolish the shilling from our coinage, and to substitute the franc (worth about tenpence), there is much reason to believe that we should gradually change from 'Price One Shilling' to 'Price One Franc;' and the same with 'Admission' instead of 'Price.' Very likely we should receive less in quantity, less number or less dimensions, of articles or enjoyments included in each purchase; but this would be borne with more patience than a change in the opposite direction – in other words, it would be found more easy to adjust our dealings to the altered value of the coin, than to give the troublesome amount of one franc in silver plus twopence in copper or bronze to make up a shillingworth; for a dislike to 'bother' is prevalent with most of us. But how about 'Admission One Franc?' Should we obtain only five-sixths as much instruction or amusement as we now obtain; and if so, in what manner would the curtailment be carried into effect? Would the shilling gallery, for instance, share in the enjoyment of less splendour and less fun when it became a franc gallery? Would a franc concert-caterer give a smaller number of songs, and the Polytechnic give fewer dissolving views and scientific lectures on each evening?

A subject of much solicitude to the financial and commercial world just at present may, for aught we can tell, be wrapped up in this very problem. The price or value of pure or bullion silver has fallen materially. The purchasing power of (say) an ounce of silver is less than it was a year ago, as compared with gold and with general commodities; and perchance the amount of 'value received' may have to be readjusted to our friend the shilling in some way not at present perceptible.

A question has been asked, What is the real or intrinsic value of a shilling? and a good question it is, like the late Sir Robert Peel's, 'What is a pound?' The matter seems simple, but it intimately involves many important considerations. So far as concerns the Mint, the government, or the state, the value of a shilling is honestly expressed; no profit is made on its manufacture; on the contrary, a certain sum has to be provided annually out of the general taxation of the country, to make up a small deficiency. The chemical and mechanical processes of coining cost so much, the unavoidable (though trifling) waste amounts to so much, the wear of the coin costs so much for recoining after a few years, and so much for putting in new silver to make up the deficiency from 'light weight;' and all these items swell the cost of the shilling to the Mint. If the coin were made much below its intrinsic value in pure silver, it would not pass on the continent; if above, it would be melted down as bullion; and thus the Mint or the state has many points to consider in the matter. A bronze penny pays its full expense of manufacture; a gold sovereign and a silver shilling do not. Whether, at the present time, when the Mint can buy silver bullion and old silver at a cheaper rate than was the case a few years ago, the silver coinage just now pays its own expenses, is a question on which possibly the Master of the Mint may have something to say in his next annual Report.

THE BIG TREES OF MARIPOSA

M. le Baron De Hübner in his interesting work, A Ramble Round the World, gives an account of an excursion from San Francisco to the Yosemite Valley, in the Sierra Nevada, for the purpose of seeing what are known as the 'Big Trees of Mariposa.' It is a toilsome journey by stage-wagons with relays of horses, through a wild country, and the distance going and returning is four hundred and forty miles. The journey took place in June, when the weather was fine, as it generally is in California near the coast of the Pacific. At the rancho or farm establishment of a hospitable planter, the wheeled carriages could go no farther, and the party were provided with little Indian horses, harnessed and saddled in the Mexican fashion, to complete the excursion. There were now, however, only a few miles to be travelled.

The Big Trees of Mariposa, which are reported to be the most gigantic trees in the world, were discovered as lately as 1855. The stories told of their gigantic dimensions seemed almost incredible. It was represented that they exceeded in height the tallest church steeples; were in fact as high as the top of St Paul's in London, and that is three hundred and fifty-six feet, reckoning from the marble floor to the cross. Another circumstance that seemed surprising was that these marvellously tall trees grew in a valley among mountains, at a height of eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. Such a circumstance in itself conveys an impressive idea of the magnificent climate in California, it being difficult in any part of England to grow trees successfully at a greater elevation than a thousand feet above sea-level, and seldom at that. Reaching the spot where the large trees grew, the Baron and his companions began to observe various trees fallen on account of age or the force of the winds, while at the same time infant trees were springing spontaneously up, and which, after growing for hundreds of years, will perish in their turn. Of the trees generally, the Baron says: 'The Big Trees of Mariposa well deserve their world-spread reputation. A law lately passed, and voted unanimously by the legislature, shelters them both from speculation and from the devastation of the mining companies. Unfortunately, however, it cannot protect them from the incendiary fires of the Indians. But none of these trees can be cut down. There are more than four hundred, which, thanks to their diameter of more than thirty feet, their circumference of upwards of ninety feet, and their height of more than three hundred feet, are honoured with the appellation of the Big Trees. Some of them have lost their crown and been in part destroyed by fire, that scourge of Californian forests. Others, overthrown by tempests, are lying prostrate on the soil, and are already covered with those parasitic creeping plants which are ever ready to crop up round these giant corpses. One of these huge hollow trunks makes a natural tunnel. We rode through it in all its length on horseback without lowering our heads. Another, still standing and green, enables a horseman to enter it, turn round, and go out of it by the same opening. These two trees form the great attraction of the tourists. Like the Russian pilgrims in Palestine who have bathed in the Jordan, the tourists, after having passed on horseback through the tunnelly trunk of one of these trees and the interior of the other, strong in the consciousness of having done their duty, think of nothing but instant departure. The greater part of these trees are marked by the inscriptions of different celebrated persons. One of them bears the name of Ferdinand de Lesseps.

'The Big Trees, with their smooth, dead-red trunks and short horizontal branches, are of a coniferous race, well known in Europe. One sees specimens in all our botanical gardens and in most of the "pinetums" of private persons. The first discoverer, an Englishman, gave them the name, which has stuck to them in Europe, of Wellingtonia. This name, which was offensive to the Americans, was changed by them into Sequoia gigantea, after an Indian chief of Pennsylvania, who distinguished himself by his kindness to the whites and by his civilised habits. These Sequoias would have a far grander effect to the eye if they were isolated, instead of being crowded with other trees, many of which have attained to almost the same size. Without the help of a guide, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish them from one another. The great indefinable charm of this spot lies in the poetic beauty of the site and the extraordinary fecundity of nature.'

The Wellingtonia gigantea, or Mammoth pine, as it is sometimes called, is a tree perfectly hardy and of rapid growth. Its leaves resemble those of the Arbor vitæ. Introduced by seeds into Great Britain, it is grown successfully as an ornamental tree, though we have not yet had sufficient experience to say whether it will attain anything like the dimensions and height it does in California. We planted one in 1865, when it was about a foot high, and now it has attained a height of twelve to thirteen feet. It grows about a foot in the year. We watch its progress with considerable interest.

MRS PETRE

IN TWO CHAPTERS. – CHAPTER II

'Twelve hours afterwards Janet Heath was stunned and horrified to hear, from a strange source, that Mrs Petre was dead – had died in the middle of the night from an overdose of laudanum. Fortunately for Janet, the woman who lived next door to her cottage was possessed of great good sense; and when Janet rushed into her house wildly denouncing Mrs Danton, Mrs Dixon said: "Just have a care what you say; if her heart is anything like her face, you'll have a slippery customer to deal with in Mrs Danton. There'll be an inquiry, and plenty chance to speak then."

'But Janet, though cautioned, went straight up to Hilton Lodge, did not pause to be announced, but walking into the dining-room, faced Mrs Danton, who, with an air half-defiant, half-cringing, said: "This is a sad business; isn't it?"

"Sad?" cried Janet; "shameful. How did it happen? How could it have happened?"

"An overdose of laudanum," returned Mrs Danton.

"Laudanum!" exclaimed Janet, a new light flashing across her. "What was that the doctor said to you yesterday about the laudanum? I did not hear your answer."

"You were not meant to hear my answer," responded Mrs Danton, who bringing her evil face upon a level with Janet's, and tapping her sharply on the shoulder, added: "You don't come here to censure me." Her look was so terrible, Janet said she felt her knees tremble beneath her; she involuntarily turned away whilst Mrs Danton added: "It is not my wish that Mr Aubrey Stanmore should be made acquainted with this event. I will communicate with Mrs Petre's friends. I warn you of my severest displeasure and vengeance if you inform him."

'The words fell blankly upon Janet's ears; she simply left the room and made her way up to the drawing-room, where lay all that was mortal of her poor old friend.

'Meanwhile the authorities came upon the scene; and now I must endeavour to be very explicit. You know no body can be buried without a certificate from the doctor as to the cause of death; and on this occasion Mrs Danton knew a coroner's inquest would be absolutely necessary. But in the meantime a letter was speeding up to the Aubrey Stanmores, written in wild excitement by Janet, simply stating that Mrs Petre was dead; that they said it was from an overdose of laudanum taken by herself; but added Janet: "I was with her half an hour before she is said to have taken it, and I never saw her calmer or more sensible. Pray, do something!" concluded Janet, "for all is not right."

'Mr Stanmore's first step was to proceed at once to his solicitor, an extremely worthy man, who, on hearing the circumstances, at once consented to start for Lynton, whither he was accompanied by both Aubrey and his wife. They judged it prudent, after seeing Janet, to go direct to the doctor's house, in order to ascertain particulars from him, as, from Aubrey's position with his aunt, it was not quite easy for them to go direct to her house now she was dead, when she had not received them there during her lifetime. How vividly did Aubrey now recall his last interview with her, when Mrs Danton was absent; how he had knelt down by her side and beseeched her to send her off, and in her place to install the faithful Janet. "When Arthur Dumaresque comes home," had been her feeble promise; and now, how true his words to his wife and Janet had turned out: "That woman will never let my aunt live until Arthur Dumaresque comes home."

'This doctor whom they were about to visit was a new importation to Lynton. He had obtained a fair share of practice, but it was more than doubtful how long he would continue to retain it, for neither his manner nor his appearance was in his favour. However, the Stanmores and Mr Westmoreland the lawyer merely knew that he had attended Mrs Petre; and it was simply to hear his account of the melancholy affair that they troubled him with a visit.

'Much to their amazement, nothing could have been more brusque or discourteous than Dr Harper's manner. He received them in the most extraordinary way, and flatly refused to be, as he called it, "interrogated" as to the circumstances of Mrs Petre's death.

"Had you ordered the laudanum?" asked Mr Westmoreland.

"No; I had not," he answered. "I knew nothing about it till I was sent for, and told to bring the stomach-pump."

"And how had she taken it?" pursued Mr Westmoreland. "Who bought it? Where was it got?" "I tell you I am not going to be questioned; the inquiry will give you all particulars;" and without even the civility of a bow to the Stanmores, he ushered them out of his room.

'The police-office was the next place to be visited. There every question was answered with alacrity and politeness, and the following particulars given by the constable whose duty it was to ascertain the facts where such occurrences took place. The inquiry, he told them, was fixed for the following day. The jury were all summoned; and the coroner, at some inconvenience to himself, had consented, in order to accommodate the relatives of the late Mrs Petre, to allow it to take place at the house.

'It appeared that Mrs Danton had lodged the following statement with the constable: About ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after Janet Heath had left, the drawing-room bell rang violently; the housemaid – the old woman I have described – went to answer it; but before she could get up-stairs it pealed again. Mrs Petre was sitting in her chair when she entered, and said: "Send Danton up to me."

'Danton – who always raged at this abbreviation – accordingly went up-stairs; and on getting into the drawing-room, Mrs Petre exclaimed, holding out a large bottle: "See what I have done! I have emptied this bottle of laudanum. What effect will it have?"

"It will make you drowsy; you must keep awake," replied Danton.

'It was a bottle capable of holding four ounces of laudanum, which, according to Mrs Danton's testimony, Mrs Petre had herself bought a few days before, for the purpose, it was supposed, of applying to her rheumatic limbs.

'Mrs Petre, whose horror of death was well known, at once exhibited the greatest alarm. "Send for the doctor – send for the doctor!" was her entreaty; and Mrs Danton sent the housemaid – the old woman who was supposed to wait on Mrs Petre – off in the carriage, which happened to be at the door then; not direct to Dr Harper's house, but to another patient's, "to see if he was there;" at that house the housemaid lingered, and it was not until fully three-quarters of an hour had elapsed that Dr Harper reached Hilton Lodge with the stomach-pump. For that three-quarters of an hour surely a strict account would be required at the inquest.

'Mrs Petre lingered on until the middle of the night, by which time several of Mrs Danton's own relatives had arrived upon the scene – notably one who volunteered the information that previous to the old lady's death she had stood in readiness, handkerchief in hand, ready to tie up the poor old face.

'However, to be as brief as possible. The Stanmores were so completely convinced that there had been foul play, that, by dint of strenuous exertions, they succeeded in persuading the coroner to defer the inquest until the Monday. Janet must be called as a witness; and Mr Stanmore, as the nearest relative, declared that he must identify the body. Accordingly, the constable who had previously arranged with Mrs Danton for the immediate inquest, proceeded to the house; now anxious to elicit further particulars, and also to intimate to her the postponement. He wanted the second bottle – for Mrs Danton had stated the laudanum had been purchased in separate ones. That was not forthcoming. It had been broken or mislaid; so only one – a good-sized one without any label – was handed over to him.

'Upon informing her of the new arrangement, Mrs Danton started violently, but recovering herself, said to a relation of her own, in a half aside, but quite audibly: "I know who is at the bottom of this, but I shall know what to do."

'The constable then left; and Mr Stanmore meanwhile was not idle as regarded efforts to collect all the evidence he could relative to his aunt's death. The case appeared a very clear one to him. Mrs Danton had, if not all his aunt's bonds in her own name, at anyrate a sum of money in amount quite impossible to guess at. Mrs Petre had declared her intention to get rid of her, and Major Dumaresque was coming home shortly, when a proper account would no doubt be demanded; and with Mrs Petre's aid, all would have to be disgorged, and Mrs Danton would return to her old life of needy dependence, with only censure and disgrace attached to her. There was no lack of motive; and looking at the case in any light, nothing could seem more conclusive than it was.

'Monday soon came; and at eleven o'clock the coroner with his twelve jurymen assembled in the best parlour of the Royal George, amidst great excitement; the witnesses collected in an adjoining room; and after the body had been viewed by the jury and identified by Aubrey Stanmore, proceedings fairly began. It was a long low-roofed room, with a narrow table, at the head of which the coroner sat; close by him were the solicitors, one for the Stanmores, the other for Mrs Danton; on one side of the table were the jurymen; whilst at the end of it were standing a group of officials, a police inspector; and the summoning constable, whose duty it was to call the witnesses separately, and to hand them the Bible to kiss whilst the coroner rapidly read over the required oath.

'The Stanmores were in the waiting-room with Janet Heath, when in walked Mrs Danton, alone; her cadaverous face looking yellower and more repulsive than ever, her black eyes glancing from side to side, betraying a nervousness she evidently tried hard to conceal. "Would she go out alone?" wondered Mrs Stanmore. "Would not the hand of the law be upon her, and the death of the poor old lady avenged?" Who could tell!

'But at last all was in readiness. Mrs Stanmore not being required as a witness, was ushered first into the room, and accommodated with a seat by the coroner. Aubrey was then called, merely to identify the body. It was that, of Mrs Petre his aunt. The last time he had seen her she was in good health. Her money matters were arranged by Mrs Danton, of whom she intended soon to get rid. And a host of other information quivered on his lips, when the coroner dismissed him.

'Then came the housemaid, Margaret Penn, who stated she was in Mrs Petre's service partly as nurse partly as housemaid. She knew Mrs Petre had bought the laudanum to rub her rheumatic limbs with. She had noticed Mrs Petre had taken a small quantity on the preceding night, and fearing danger, had carried the bottle down to Mrs Danton, who, uncorking and tasting it, had said: "Take it back and place it where you found it, so that Mrs Petre may not miss it;" accordingly she did so. She verified Mrs Danton's first statement to the constable, that soon after Janet's departure Mrs Petre's bell had rung twice; that on answering it, however, Mrs Petre had exhibited nothing unusual beyond a demand for "Danton." Danton had gone up, and soon afterwards called Margaret, telling her Mrs Petre had accidentally taken some laudanum, and desired her to go for the doctor. That was all she knew.

'The doctor's evidence was the next taken. He had merely attended Mrs Petre for a slight cold. He knew she had got some laudanum to rub her limbs with. She was an old lady, suffering from considerable depression of mind, and somewhat feeble in body. He had been called in to see her, having received a message to say she had taken an overdose of laudanum. He took the stomach-pump and applied it; but she was too far gone. No emetics had been administered previous to his arrival. The amount she had taken was not sufficient to act as its own emetic. She was slightly conscious when he saw her, and gave him to understand that she had herself taken the dose. He did all he could for her; he considered she had died from narcotic poisoning.