Part 3

James Dutton, who rode into town, was punctual, and, as always of late, flurried, excited, nervous--not, in fact, it appeared to me precisely in his right mind. The dinner passed off as dinners usually do, and the after-proceedings went on very comfortably till about half-past nine o'clock, when Dutton's perturbation, increased perhaps by the considerable quantity of wine he had swallowed, not drunk, became, it was apparent to everybody, almost uncontrollable. He rose--purposeless it seemed--sat down again--drew out his watch almost every minute, and answered remarks addressed to him in the wildest manner. The decisive moment was, I saw, arrived, and at a gesture of mine, Elsworthy, who was in my confidence, addressed Dutton. 'By the way, Dutton, about Mrs Rivers and Annie. I forgot to tell you of it before.'

The restless man was on his feet in an instant, and glaring with fiery eagerness at the speaker.

'What! what!' he cried with explosive quickness--'what about Annie? Death and fury!--speak! will you?'

'Don't alarm yourself, my good fellow. It's nothing of consequence. You brought Annie and her governess, about an hour before I started, to sleep at our house'----

'Yes--yes,' gasped Dutton, white as death, and every fibre of his body shaking with terrible dread. 'Yes--well, well, go on. Thunder and lightning! out with it, will you?'

'Unfortunately, two female cousins arrived soon after you went away, and I was obliged to escort Annie and Mrs Rivers home again.' A wild shriek--yell is perhaps the more appropriate expression--burst from the conscience and fear-stricken man. Another instant, and he had torn his watch from the fob, glanced at it with dilated eyes, dashed it on the table, and was rushing madly towards the door, vainly withstood by Elsworthy, who feared we had gone too far.

'Out of the way!' screamed the madman. 'Let go, or I'll dash you to atoms!' Suiting the action to the threat, he hurled my brother-in-law against the wall with stunning force, and rushed on, shouting incoherently: 'My horse! There is time yet! Tom Edwards, my horse!'

Tom Edwards was luckily at hand, and although mightily surprised at the sudden uproar, which he attributed to Mr Dutton being in drink, mechanically assisted to saddle, bridle, and bring out the roan mare; and before I could reach the stables, Dutton's foot was in the stirrup. I shouted 'Stop' as loudly as I could, but the excited horseman did not heed, perhaps not hear me: and away he went, at a tremendous speed, hatless, and his long gray-tinted hair streaming in the wind. It was absolutely necessary to follow. I therefore directed Elsworthy's horse, a much swifter and more peaceful animal than Dutton's, to be brought out; and as soon as I got into the high country road, I too dashed along at a rate much too headlong to be altogether pleasant. The evening was clear and bright, and I now and then caught a distant sight of Dutton, who was going at a frantic pace across the country, and putting his horse at leaps that no man in his senses would have attempted. I kept the high-road, and we had thus ridden about half an hour perhaps, when a bright flame about a mile distant, as the crow flies, shot suddenly forth, strongly relieved against a mass of dark wood just beyond it. I knew it to be Dutton's house, even without the confirmation given by the frenzied shout which at the same moment arose on my left hand. It was from Dutton. His horse had been _staked_, in an effort to clear a high fence, and he was hurrying desperately along on foot. I tried to make him hear me, or to reach him, but found I could do neither: his own wild cries and imprecations drowned my voice, and there were impassable fences between the high-road and the fields across which he madly hasted.

The flames were swift this time, and defied the efforts of the servants and husbandmen who had come to the rescue, to stay, much less to quell them. Eagerly as I rode, Dutton arrived before the blazing pile at nearly the same moment as myself, and even as he fiercely struggled with two or three men, who strove by main force to prevent him from rushing into the flames, only to meet with certain death, the roof and floors of the building fell in with a sudden crash. He believed that all was over with the child, and again hurling forth the wild despairing cry I had twice before heard that evening, he fell down, as if smitten by lightning, upon the hard frosty road.

It was many days ere the unhappy, sinful man recovered his senses, many weeks before he was restored to his accustomed health. Very cautiously had the intelligence been communicated to him, that Annie had not met the terrible fate, the image of which had incessantly pursued him through his fevered dreams. He was a deeply grateful, and, I believe, a penitent and altogether changed man. He purchased, through my agency, a valuable farm in a distant county, in order to be out of the way, not only of Hamblin, on whom he settled two hundred a year, but of others, myself included, who knew or suspected him of the foul intention he had conceived against his son-in-law, and which, but for Mrs Rivers, would, on the last occasion, have been in all probability successful, so cunningly had the evidence of circumstances been devised. 'I have been,' said James Dutton to me at the last interview I had with him, 'all my life an overweening self-confident fool. At Romford, I boasted to you that my children should ally themselves with the landed gentry of the country, and see the result! The future, please God, shall find me in my duty--mindful only of that, and content, whilst so acting, with whatever shall befall me or mine.'

Dutton continues to prosper in the world; Hamblin died several years ago of delirium tremens; and Annie, I hear, _will_ in all probability marry into the squirearchy of the country. All this is not perhaps what is called poetical justice, but my experience has been with the actual, not the ideal world.

MEMORIALS OF THE DODO.

Among the thousand-and-one marvels displayed in the far-famed Palace of Crystal during part of the last ever-memorable year, not the least puzzling to the majority of visitors, was an object resembling a stuffed bird more than any other production of art or nature, but very unlike any bird previously observed by the wondering spectators in either museum or menagerie, or even on the painted panels that emblazon the crude and extravagant conceptions of mediæval heraldry. In the catalogue, the really ingenious piece of workmanship was entitled a 'Life-size model of the dodo'--a name, our readers know, appertaining to a now extinct bird, the very existence of which was at one time denied by shrewd men and good naturalists. Perhaps the following history of this curious creature, from its first to its last appearance before the eyes of men, will not be considered devoid of interest.

In the year 1598, a division of a Dutch squadron on its way to Bantam, rediscovered what was then called the island of Cerne; and a boat's crew having been sent ashore to reconnoitre, returned with nine great birds, a number of smaller ones, and the welcome intelligence of a secure and convenient harbour. Those nine great birds were the first of the doomed dodo race that ever came in contact with their destined destroyer, man; at least, this is undoubtedly their first appearance on record. The exact date of such an event is note-worthy: it occurred on the 18th of May. De Warwijk, the Dutch admiral, brought his ships into the harbour; and finding no traces of man--the birds being so unused to his presence, that they suffered themselves to be caught by hand--took formal possession of the island, changing its name to Mauritius, in honour of Prince Maurice, then Stadtholder of Holland. Immense tortoises, delicious fish, thousands of turtledoves, and dodos _à discrétion_, regaled the half-starved and scurvy-stricken seamen. The name dodo, however, had not then been given. Warwick's men, revelling in the luxuries of this virgin isle, became fastidious. Finding, after a hearty meal on the newly-discovered bird, that its extreme fatness disagreed with them, they gave it the name of _walghvogel_[1]--the nausea-causing bird. With our own experience--and that is somewhat extensive--of sailors in general, and Dutch ones in particular, we must infer that these dodos were very, very fat, indeed. A narrative of this voyage[2] was published in Dutch at Amsterdam in 1601, went through many editions, and has been translated into various languages. The work contains an engraving, representing the landing-place at the Mauritius; the carpenters, coopers, and blacksmiths, busy at work; the preacher and his orderly congregation; while tortoises, a dodo, and other animals, wander about, heedless of the presence of man. This is the first engraving of the dodo, and, judging from more pictures of greater pretension, by no means a bad likeness; indeed, the whole sketch bears strong evidence of its having been taken from nature. In the letter-press, the walghvogel is described as a large bird, the size of a swan, with a huge head furnished with a kind of hood; and in lieu of wings, having three or four small pen-feathers, the tail consisting of four or five small curled feathers of a gray colour.

De Bry, an engraver of considerable eminence, and a bookseller at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, being in England in 1587, was induced by our famous compiler, Hakluyt, to commence the publication of an illustrated series of voyages, which, after his death, was continued by his sons. Amongst bibliographers, this compilation is well known as the _Collection of Great and Little Voyages_. The volumes comprising the 'little voyages,' relating exclusively to the East, are entitled _Indiæ Orientalis_; they were issued in parts, and their period of publication extended from 1598 to 1624. The walghvogel is merely mentioned, but an engraving gives a fanciful representation of the doings of another Dutch crew on the island. Two gallants, elaborately attired, are represented riding on a tortoise; while ten others, seated in a tortoise's shell, are holding a grand symposium. Three birds are depicted in this plate, which the letter-press says are walghvogels, but which our eyes tell us are cassowaries, then termed emeus. It is evident, then, that De Bry had not, at that time, seen a sketch or description of the dodo: if he had, he would not thus have confounded it with the cassowary. Moreover, in the letter-press explanatory of the engraving, it is stated that a living walghvogel had been brought to Holland, which clearly proves that he had erroneously confounded the two birds; for a living cassowary, even at that early date, had actually been transported thither. But though there can be little doubt, that one or more living dodos were subsequently brought to Europe, it is certain that such an event did not take place till after L'Ecluse wrote, in 1605. About the same time that De Bry published this _fourth_ part of _Indiæ Orientalis_, the Dutch work appeared containing the account of the voyages of the whole eight ships; and then De Bry, in his _fifth_ part, which came out later in the same year, was enabled to give a correct representation of the dodo, and a complete account of the voyages of the whole squadron. We have been more precise on this part of our subject than might seem necessary; but by being so, we have smoothed over an inequality that has been a stumbling-block to almost all previous writers on the dodo.

L'Ecluse, professor of botany at Leyden, one of the greatest naturalists of his age, published his _Exoticorum_ in 1605. In it he gives an engraved likeness and description of the dodo, which he obtained from persons who had sailed in De Warwijk's fleet, stating that he had himself seen only the leg of the bird--a sure proof that no live specimen had, at that time, been brought to Holland.

Passing over the visits to the isles of four old Dutch navigators, who all describe the dodo under different names, we come to the quaint old traveller, Sir Thomas Herbert, who touched at the Mauritius in 1627. In his _Relation of some Yeare's Travaile_, he thus describes the bird:--'The dodo; a bird the Dutch call walghvogel or dod eersen; her body is round and fat, which occasions the slow pace, or that her corpulencie; and so great as few of them weigh less than fifty pound: better to the eye than stomack: greasy appetites may perhaps commend them, but to the indifferently curious in nourishment, prove offensive. Let's take her picture: her visage darts forth melancholy, as if sensible of Nature's injurie in framing so great and massie a body to be directed by such small and complementall wings, as are unable to hoise her from the ground; serving only to prove her a bird, which otherwise might be doubted of. Her head is variously drest, the one-half hooded with downy blackish feathers; the other perfectly naked, of a whitish hue, as if a transparent lawne had covered it. Her bill is very howked, and bends downwards; the thrill or breathing-place is in the midst of it, from which part to the end the colour is a light green mixed with a pale yellowe; her eyes be round and small, and bright as diamonds; her clothing is of finest downe, such as you see on goslins. Her trayne is (like a China beard) of three or four short feathers; her legs thick, black, and strong; her tallons or pounces sharp; her stomach fiery hot, so as she easily can digest stones.'

As a 'China beard' consists of only a few hairs under the chin, the above simile is correct; but in the French edition of these travels, the translator erroneously rendered the words _oiseau de Chine_, Chinese bird, and subsequently, a celebrated French savant raised a magnificent hypothetical edifice on the basis of the mistranslation.

Herbert was the first who used the word dodo as the name of this bird, stating it to be derived from the Portuguese _doudo_, a simpleton; but as he is generally somewhat wild and vague in his etymologies, and as we have no intelligence whatever of the dodo through the Portuguese, we may safely conclude that the name is of Dutch derivation. In the old black-letter Dutch and English dictionary now before us, we find the word _dodoor_ translated a humdrum, which, Dr Johnson tells us, means 'a stupid person.' Now, if the name be derived from the bird's simplicity, the Dutch _dodoor_ is as near the mark as the Portuguese _doudo_. But it may be that the name was given on account of the peculiar form of the bird, and not in illusion to its mental capacity; and, consequently, even _dodoor_ may not be the true origin. We more than suspect that it is really derived from a vulgar, compound epithet, used by Dutch seamen to denote an awkward, clumsily-formed, inactive person. This inquiry, however, is beyond our humble powers, and should be prosecuted by some learned professor--such, for instance, as Jonathan Oldbuck's friend, Dr Heavysterne, of the Low Countries.

We next hear of the dodo, in a curiously indirect manner, through an uneducated French adventurer named Cauche, who passed several years in Madagascar and the adjacent islands. His narrative, edited by one Morissot, an _avocat_, was published in 1651, and created great interest in France. In 1638, he was at the Mauritius, and there saw a bird which he describes under the name of the bird of Nazareth--_oiseau de Nazaret_--so termed, as he states, from its being found on the island of Nazareth, which lies to the northward of the Mauritius. The description is an accurate one of the dodo, with the exception of two particulars--one, as to the number and position of the toes; the other, as to the creature having no tongue--a prevalent opinion then amongst the vulgar with respect to several other birds. Though there is no record of this bird of Nazareth having been seen by any one but Cauche, yet, ever since, his phantom-like picture has skulked in the obscurity, adding to the mystery which enveloped the dodo. Time, however, has now exorcised it. There never was a bird of Nazareth. What Cauche saw was undoubtedly a dodo; and his errors of description are what any person, not a naturalist, might commit. _Oiseau de Nazaret_ is simply a corruption of _oiseau de nausée_--the original French name of the dodo, a literal translation of the original Dutch walghvogel. It is a curious coincidence, that as the bird of Nazareth has been found in books only, so the island of Nazareth has been found only on paper. At first, it appeared quite a respectable island; as maritime discovery progressed, it degenerated to a reef, and from that to a shoal; till at last, expunged from the more correct charts of modern hydrographers, it no longer can boast of a local habitation or a name.

About the same time that Cauche was at the Mauritius, the citizens of London were gratified by the sight of a living dodo. Of this very interesting event, there is only one solitary record at present known, but it is an authentic one. In a manuscript commentary on Sir Thomas Browne's _Vulgar Errors_--preserved in the British Museum--written by Sir Hamon L'Estrange, father of the more celebrated Sir Roger, there occurs the following passage:--

'About 1638, as I walked London streets, I [3] the picture of a strange fowle hung out upon a cloth [3]vas, and myselfe, with one or two more then in company, went in to see it. It was kept in a chamber, and was somewhat bigger than the largest turkey-cock, and so legged and footed, but stouter and thicker, and of a more erect shape, coloured before like the breast of a young cock-fesan, and on the back of a dunne or deare colour. The keeper called it a dodo; and in the end of a chymney in the chamber there lay a heap of large pebble-stones, whereof hee gave it many in our sight, some as big as nutmegs; and the keeper told us shee eats them (conducing to digestion); and though I remember not how farr the keeper was questioned therein, yet I am confident that afterwards she cast them all againe.'

We next, in order of time, come to the famous Tradescant dodo. When or where the Tradescants procured it, is unknown; it is first mentioned in the catalogue of their museum, published by the surviving Tradescant, in 1656, as 'a dodar from the island Mauritius; it is not able to flie, being so big.' We shall presently have occasion to detail the subsequent history of this interesting specimen.

The last notice of the dodo's existence is found in a manuscript journal--in the Sloane Collection--kept by a 'Mr Ben. Harry,' who was chief officer of the English ship _Berkley Castle_, on a voyage to and from India in 1679. It appears that, the ship becoming leaky on their return voyage, they 'made for the Marushes,' where they repaired the vessel, and landed and dried the cargo. At this point of their proceedings, we shall let this intelligent mariner speak for himself: 'Now, having a little respitt, I will make a little description of the island, ffirst of its producks, then of its parts: ffirst, of all winged and feathered ffowle, the less passant are dodos, whose fflesh is very hard. The Dutch, pleading a property in this island because of their settlement, have made us pay for goates one penny per pound.'

Though the Dutch did not form a regular settlement on the Mauritius till 1644, yet their vessels and those of other nations frequently called for supplies; and many persons--runaway seamen and others--lived on the island. It is not surprising that the awkward, slow-paced dodo, incapable of flight, and whose nest, as we are told by Cauche, never contained more than one egg, became totally extinct soon after coming into contact with man. Nor would man alone be directly the dodo's destroyer; his immediate followers, the cat, hog, and dog, must have been fatal neighbours to its young. Leguat, a gentleman of education, spent several months on the Mauritius in 1693, but makes no mention of the dodo. He says: 'This island was formerly full of birds, but now they are becoming very scarce;' and further adds: 'Here are pigs of the China breed. These beasts do a great deal of damage to the inhabitants, by devouring all the young animals they can catch.' Less than a century, then, sufficed to extirpate the dodo. It was first seen in 1598--it was last noticed in 1679; and as Leguat, in 1693, does not mention it, we may conclude that it became extinct at some period between the last two dates. In 1712, the Dutch evacuated the Mauritius, and three years afterwards the French took possession, naming it l'Ile de France. With this change of population, the very tradition of the dodo's existence on that island was completely lost.

The relics of the dodo, still left to admiring naturalists, are few, but, in a scientific view, very precious. They consist in all of a head and leg in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, a leg in the British Museum, and a head in the Royal Museum (_Kunst-Kammer_) at Copenhagen. The head and leg at Oxford are the sole remains of Tradescant's dodo. After the death of the last of that family, Ashmole obtained possession of their museum, which he subsequently presented to the University of Oxford. This dodo can be clearly traced to have been in the Ashmolean Museum until the year 1755, when, having been suffered to fall into decay, it was, by the order of the vice-chancellor of the university, and a majority of the visitors, condemned to be burned! For a long time after, the dodo was forgotten, or the fact of its once having existed was treated as a mere myth, till Dr Shaw, in 1793, rummaging among the refuse of the museum, rediscovered this identical head and leg. The question arises: How were these relics preserved? Did some university magnate desire their retention from the flames? Did some conservative curator slily conceal them before the fatal mandate was executed? No! Even this paltry palliation must be refused to the learned Vandals. It is to Ashmole himself that science is indebted for these remains of the last specimen of a whole species. That litigious old Chancery lawyer, when he presented his museum to Oxford, did so under certain restrictions, which he drew up with his own hands, and which the university was bound to obey. One of these rules decrees, that any specimen in a bad condition should not be totally destroyed; but any hard parts, such as the head, horns, or feet, should be put away in a closet. This head is still in tolerable preservation. The singular form of the beak and nostrils, the bare skin of the face, combined with the partly feathered head, which the old writers compared to a hood, are still strikingly apparent. Of the history of the leg in the British Museum, little is known. It formerly belonged to the Royal Society, and is in all probability the same that is mentioned in the catalogue of a museum that was offered for sale in London by a person named Hubert, in 1664. It is certain that the leg at Oxford, and that at London, did not belong to the same bird; for though they are right and left, and their perfect agreement in character proves their identity of species, yet one is nearly an inch longer than the other. The head at Copenhagen was described by Olearius as early as 1666, in the catalogue of the museum of the Duke of Schleswig at Gottorf. In 1720, that museum was removed to Copenhagen, but it was not till within the last few years, when the history of the dodo excited so strongly the attention of naturalists, that this head was successfully sought for, and disinterred from a mass of rubbish, by Dr Reinhardt.