Part 17

Justice was not slow to overtake the criminals. In less than two months Colonel Warren, to whom the direction of the search-expedition was entrusted[108], had discovered who they were, and had found some scattered remains of their unfortunate victims in the gulf which they hoped would conceal them for ever. In January 1883 he read the solemn burial service of the Church at the spot in the presence of the brother and sister of Lieutenant Charrington; after which, according to military custom, the officers present fired three volleys across the torrent. On the hill above they raised a huge cairn, 17 feet in diameter, and 13 feet in height, surmounted by a cross, which the Bedouin were charged, at their peril, to preserve intact. Of the actual murderers three were executed, as also were two headmen for having incited them to the crime. Others were imprisoned for various terms of years, and the Governor of Nakhl, who was proved to have been privy to the murder, and near the place at the time, was imprisoned for a year and dismissed the service. The end of Meter ibn Sofieh was strangely retributive. He had led the party out of their way into an ambuscade[109], probably for the paltry gain of £3000, for we have seem that his nephew escaped with the gold, and £1000 was afterwards found in the place where he knew it was hid; he had betrayed the man with whom he had solemnly eaten bread and salt in Misleh’s camp only a month before; he hid himself in the Desert for awhile, then he gave himself up, and told as much of the story as he probably dared to tell; then he fell ill—his manner had been strange ever since the murder, it was said—he was taken to the hospital at Suez, and there he died. These, however, were only instruments in the hands of others. The influence which Sheikh Abdullah was exercising in the Desert was soon known at Cairo, and the Governor of El Arish was sent out to bring him in dead or alive; the Bedouin swore that Arabi had promised £20 for every Christian head; the murder itself was planned at Cairo, by men high in place, for Colonel Warren complains over and over again that the Shedides thwarted his proceedings, and let guilty men escape. And after the guilt of Egypt comes the guilt of Turkey: Hussein Effendi, a Turkish notable at Gaza—a man who might have been of the greatest service—was not allowed by the Porte to help in bringing the guilty to justice; and there were other indications that further inquiry was not desired. The murder in the Wady Sudr is one more count in the long indictment against the Turk which the Western Powers will one day be compelled to hear; and, after hearing, to pronounce sentence.

The remains discovered by Colonel Warren were reverently gathered together and sent home to England, and in April, 1883, they were interred in the crypt of S. Paul’s Cathedral. A single tablet, placed near the grave, records the names of the three Englishmen and their faithful attendants who died for their country in the Wady Sudr, and now find a fitting resting-place among those whose deeds have won for them a world-wide reputation.

Not once or twice in our rough island-story The path of duty was the way to glory.

FRANCIS MAITLAND BALFOUR.

On Sunday evening last the news reached Cambridge that Professor Balfour had met with a fatal accident in the Alps near Courmayeur[110]. It was only in November of last year that we drew attention to the extraordinary merits of his _Treatise on Comparative Embryology_, then just completed[111]. We felt that a ‘bright particular star’ had risen on the scientific horizon; and we expected, from what we knew of the great abilities and unremitting energy of the author, that year by year his reputation would be increased by fresh discoveries. But

Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo’s laurel bough;

the pride which the University took in one of her most popular and distinguished members is changed to an outburst of passionate regret; and all that his friends can do is to attempt a brief record of a singularly brilliant career, a tribute of affection to be laid upon his grave.

Mr Balfour was a younger son of the late Mr J. M. Balfour of Whittinghame, near Prestonkirk, and of the late Lady Blanche Balfour, a sister of Lord Salisbury. He entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, from Harrow, in October 1870. He brought from school the reputation of being a clever boy, whom the masters liked and respected, but of not sufficient ability to distinguish himself remarkably at Cambridge. Those who expressed this opinion overlooked the fact that he had already evinced a decided bent for Natural Science, and had published a brief memoir on the geology of his native county, Haddingtonshire. In his very first term he was fortunately induced to attend the biological lectures of the Trinity Prælector in Physiology, Mr Michael Foster; he made rapid progress, and at Easter 1871 he obtained the Natural Science Scholarship at Trinity College. He at once commenced original research in the direction in which he was afterwards to be so distinguished; and after two years’ work published a paper on _The Development of the Chick_ in the _Microscopical Journal_ for July, 1873. Indeed, we believe that the time spent on this and kindred investigations diminished somewhat the brilliancy of his degree, for he was placed second instead of first, as had been expected, in the Natural Sciences Tripos of 1873.

In November of that year he was nominated by the Board of Natural Science Studies to work at the Zoological Station at Naples, then lately established by Dr Anton Dohrn. His object in going there was to continue his investigations on Development, and before starting he had determined to study the Elasmobranch Fishes (Sharks and Rays), as it seemed likely, from their pristine characters, that their development would throw great light on the early history of vertebrate animals. The result showed how wisely he had made his selection. He made discoveries of the highest value in reference to the development of certain organs, and the origin of the nerves from the spinal cord—points which had baffled the most acute previous observers. These were not merely valuable for the history of the special group from which they were derived, but threw a flood of light upon the connexion between vertebrates and invertebrates, and their derivation from a common ancestry; views which he expanded afterwards in his work on Embryology. The results of his Neapolitan researches were embodied in the dissertation upon which he rested his candidature for a Fellowship at Trinity College; and were afterwards printed in the _Philosophical Transactions_ for 1875. Fortunately for him, a Natural Science Fellowship was vacant in 1874, to which he was elected, in consequence of the value of this dissertation. It is what is called an open secret that its great merits were at once recognized by Professor Huxley, to whom it had been referred.

From that time forward Balfour devoted himself unremittingly to continuous research in preparation for his systematic treatise on Embryology, the plan of which he had already sketched out, and which was finally completed and published in 1881. Before this appeared, however, he had published numerous papers of great value, covering nearly the whole range of his subject. Many of these will be found in the _Quarterly Journal of Microscopical Science_, of which he was one of the editors. As an original investigator he had no equal. He was skilful in manipulation, and observed rapidly and exactly, so that no point escaped his notice. His mind was calm and wholly free from prejudice, with a singularly broad and original grasp, which enabled him to seize, with readiness and sureness, the principle which lay under a number of apparently discordant facts. At the same time, like every true genius, he was singularly modest and retiring, always ready to depreciate the value of his own work, and to put forward that of others, especially of men younger than himself. We know of many students, now rising to distinction, who owe their first success to his generous encouragement, and, we may add, in some cases to his bountiful assistance, given with a delicacy which doubled the value of the gift. It was this strong desire to encourage others to work at Natural Science that induced him, in 1875, to undertake a class in Animal Morphology, or, as it used to be called, Comparative Anatomy. At first only a few students presented themselves, and one small room at the New Museums was sufficient for their accommodation. The class, however, grew with surprising rapidity; and, after Mr Balfour’s appointment as Natural Science Lecturer to Trinity College, it became necessary to build new rooms for his use. During the year 1881 the numbers had reached an average of nearly sixty in each term; and just before he left England for the excursion which has ended so fatally he had superintended the plans for a yet further extension of the Museum Buildings.

His reputation as a successful teacher soon became known far and wide; students came from a distance to work under his direction; and he received tempting offers to go elsewhere. It need no longer be a secret that, after the death of Professor Wyville Thompson, the Chair of Natural History at Edinburgh was offered to him; or that, after the death of Professor Rolleston, he was strongly urged by the leading men in Natural Science at Oxford to accept the Linacre Professorship of Anatomy and Physiology. But he was devoted to Cambridge, and nothing would induce him to leave it. His refusal of posts so honourable induced the University, somewhat tardily perhaps, to recognize his merits, and a new Professorship was established in the course of last term for that especial purpose. We extract a few sentences from the Report in which the Council of the Senate recommended this step[112]:

The successful and rapid development of biological teaching in Cambridge, so honourable to the reputation of the University, has been formally brought to the notice of the Council. It appears that the classes are now so large that the accommodation provided but a few years ago has already become insufficient, and that plans for extending it are now occupying the attention of the Museums and Lecture-Rooms Syndicate.

It is well known that one branch of this teaching, viz. that of Animal Morphology, has been created in Cambridge by the efforts of Mr F. M. Balfour, and that it has grown to its present importance through his ability as a teacher and his scientific reputation.

The service to the interests of Natural Science thus rendered by Mr Balfour having been so far generously given without any adequate Academical recognition, the benefit of its continuance is at present entirely unsecured to the University, and the progress of the department under his direction remains liable to sudden check.

It has been urgently represented to the Council that the welfare of biological studies at Cambridge demands that Mr Balfour’s department should be placed on a recognized and less precarious footing, and in this view the Council concur. They are of opinion that all the requirements of the case will be best met by the immediate establishment of a ‘Professorship of Animal Morphology’ terminable with the tenure of the first Professor.

It is a melancholy satisfaction, when we think how short his life was—for he would not have been thirty-one years of age until November next—that so many honours had been showered upon him. He became a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1878; in the autumn of 1881 he received the Royal Medal; and in 1882 he was elected a member of the Council. He was President of the Cambridge Philosophical Society, and became General Secretary of the British Association at the York Meeting in August 1881.

But it is not merely as a man of science that Mr Balfour will be remembered. He was not one of those enthusiasts who can see nothing beyond the limits of their own particular studies. He was a man of wide sympathies and interests. He devoted much time and attention to College and University affairs; and was an active member of numerous Syndicates, to whose special business he applied himself with infinite energy. He was also a keen politician on the Liberal side, and an ardent University reformer. His complete mastery of facts, his retentive memory, and his admirable powers of reasoning, made him a formidable antagonist in argument; but, though he rarely let an opportunity for vindicating his own opinions go by without taking full advantage of it, we never heard that he either lost a friend or made an enemy. He was so thoroughly a man “who bore without abuse the grand old name of gentleman,” that he could never be a mere disputant. He approached every subject with the earnestness of sincere conviction, and he invariably gave his opponents credit for a sincerity equal to his own. It was only when he found himself opposed to presumption, shallowness, or ignorance, that the natural playfulness of his manner ceased, his mild and delicate features darkened to an unwonted sternness, and his habitually gentle voice grew cold and severe. We have heard it said that he was too uniformly earnest, that he took life too seriously, and that he lacked the saving grace of humour. But his earnestness was perfectly genuine, and he would have joined hands with the Philistines in scorning the follies of the “intense.” With the undergraduates he was immensely popular. Besides his great success as a teacher, he had the inestimable gift of sympathy; they felt that they had in him a friend who thoroughly understood them, and they trusted him implicitly; while the members of his own special class regarded him with a veneration which it has been the lot of few teachers to inspire. Nor was his influence upon men older than himself less remarkable. They were fascinated by his exquisite courtesy; his quiet, high-bred dignity; his respect for the opinions and feelings of others. No one of late years has exerted so strong a personal influence in the University. It was the vigour of this personality which enabled Natural Science to take the place it now occupies in Cambridge life. He began to teach at a time when the rising popularity of science was regarded with dislike and suspicion by not a few persons. He left it accepted as one of the studies of the place. What will happen now that he has been taken away it is hard to foresee. We hope and believe that Natural Science is too deeply rooted at Cambridge to be permanently affected by even his loss. We trust that the strong efforts which will be made to keep together the school which he had created may be successful; but we fear that it will soon be evident that the members of the University have lost not merely a very dear friend, but also a master.

_29 July, 1882._

HENRY BRADSHAW.

The past twelve months have been singularly fatal to Cambridge; but no loss has caused grief so widespread and so sincere as that of the distinguished scholar and man of letters who passed quietly away while sitting at his library-table on the night of last Wednesday week[113]. If proof were needed of the respect in which he was held, we have only to point to the vast assemblage of past and present members of the University which filled the chapel of King’s College on Monday last to do honour to his funeral. Nor will the grief be confined to Cambridge. Though Mr Bradshaw rarely quitted his own University, and took no trouble to bring himself into notice, few men were more highly appreciated, both at home and abroad. It is hardly necessary to observe that this recognition of his merits was of no sudden growth. We can recall the time when he was working silently and unknown, and when even a small circle of devoted friends had not realised the extent and thoroughness of those studies which he carefully kept in the background. But gradually the world of letters became aware that there were many points in bibliography and kindred subjects which could not be set on a right footing unless the inquirer were willing to pay a visit to him. No one who did so had any cause to regret his journey. He was certain to be received with a courtesy which, we regret to say, is nowadays commonly called old-fashioned, and to find himself before he left far richer than when he came. Mr Bradshaw was the most unselfish of men; and the stores of his knowledge were invariably laid open, freely and ungrudgingly, to every inquirer, provided he was satisfied that the work proposed would be thoroughly well done. He was modest to a fault; and we believe that he really preferred to remain in the background, while others, at his suggestion and with his help, worked out the subjects in which he took special interest. It was no fault of theirs if his share in their work remained a secret. His generous wish to help others forward made him refuse more than once, as we well know, to allow his name to appear in connexion with work that he had really done; and posterity will have to tax its ingenuity to discover, from a few words in a preface or a line in a note, how much belongs of right to him. Nor was it only in subjects with which he was specially familiar that his help was valuable. He seemed equally at home in all branches of knowledge. He knew so thoroughly how materials should be used, and in what form the results would be best presented, that, whether the subject were art, or archeology, or history, or bibliography, or early English texts, his clear and accurate judgment went straight to the point, and reduced the most tangled facts to order. But, devoted student as he was, he was no bookworm. He took the liveliest interest in all that was going on around him. His strong common sense, his kind, charitable nature, and his habit of going to the bottom of every question presented to him, enabled him to sympathize with those who had arrived at conclusions widely different from his own. As a younger man he was too reserved, too diffident of himself, to feel at ease in the society of men of his own standing. He thought they disliked him, and this idea increased his natural sensitiveness and his love of retirement. The truth was that he was too honest to be popular. Like Alceste in _Le Misanthrope_, he would rebuke insincerity and pretentiousness with a few blunt stern words that made the offender tremble; and, if he disliked anybody, as happened sometimes, he took no pains to conceal it. Hence he was respected, but he was not liked. By slow degrees, however, the natural geniality of his disposition gained the upper hand, and the warm heart which beat under that calm exterior was allowed to assert itself. The old severity of denunciation, instead of being exercised on individuals, was reserved for slovenly work, unjust criticism, or unfair treatment. He began to go more into society, in which he took a keen pleasure, though he would rarely allow himself to spend what he called an idle evening. At all times he had sought the company of young people. At a period when undergraduates hardly ventured to speak to men older than themselves, his quiet kindness attracted them to him, and obtained their confidence. In him they were certain of a friend whose sympathy never failed them, and from whom, no matter what trouble or difficulty had befallen them, they were sure of advice and help. Many a man now successful in life may thank him for the influence which, exercised at a critical time, determines a career for good; and not a few have been enabled by his generosity to begin the studies in which they are now distinguished.

The events of such a life are not numerous. Mr Bradshaw was born 2 February, 1831. He was educated at Eton College, on the foundation, and came up to King’s College, Cambridge, in February, 1850. He proceeded to the degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1854. At that time members of King’s College were not obliged to submit themselves to University examinations, but he and some others availed themselves of the permission then accorded to them to do so, and he was placed tenth in the second class of the Classical Tripos. Soon afterwards he accepted a mastership at S. Columba’s College, near Dublin, then under the direction of his old friend, the late Mr George Williams; but finding tuition, after a few months’ trial, uncongenial to his tastes, he returned to Cambridge, and to those studies which ended only with his life. His connexion with the University Library began two years afterwards. In 1856 he was appointed principal assistant, a post which he resigned in 1858. In 1859 he returned to the Library as Keeper of the Manuscripts, an office specially created for the purpose of retaining his services, the value of which had even then been discovered. This office he held until 1867, when, on the resignation of Mr J. E. B. Mayor, he was elected librarian. From a boy he had been distinguished for a love of books; but it was not until his return to Cambridge from Ireland that he was able to devote himself seriously and systematically to the study of bibliography in its widest sense, with all that is subsidiary to it. Most of us know what a dreary subject bibliography is when treated from the ordinary point of view. In his hands, however, it acquired a human interest. He studied specimens of early printing, not for themselves, but for the sake of the men who produced them. In following out this system he went far more thoroughly than an ordinary bibliographer cares to do into every particular of the book before him. Paper, type, signature, tailpiece, were all taken into account, so as to settle not only who printed the volume, but in what relation he stood to his predecessors and successors.

Bradshaw had an unerring eye for detecting small differences in style, a memory which never failed him, and an instinct of discovery little short of marvellous. Again and again in well-known libraries, both in England and on the Continent, he has been able, after a brief examination, to point out important facts which scholars who had worked there for the best part of their lives had failed to notice.