Eastern Railway Company on its formation; and he was also concerned in financing the loan of £20,000,000 by which the objects of the Slave Emancipation movement of 1833 were carried out.

On his retirement Mr. Montefiore sold his residence in New Court, St. Swithin's Lane, to the Alliance Insurance Company, and, as befitted a gentleman of fortune and leisure, took a house in the fashionable West. This was in Green Street, Park Lane. He afterwards removed to his present address, 35, Park Lane, then 10, Grosvenor Gate. Mr. Rothschild appears to have taken a house about the same time in Piccadilly, and the brothers-in-law were, consequently, still neighbours. The district was then comparatively new, and as open and suburban as Kilburn and Willesden at the present day. The row of houses in which Mr. Montefiore took up his abode was unfinished, and where the Marble Arch now stands were tea-houses and the booths of donkey and pony-keepers, who hired out their cattle to children for a gallop down the Bayswater Road.

CHAPTER III.

FIRST VISIT TO THE HOLY LAND.

May Day, 1827-The start from Park Lane-London to Dover in twelve hours-Posting through France-Aged poor on the route -Dangers of Eastern travel-The Greek insurrection and the Powers-Pirates in the Mediterranean-Mr. Montefiore engages a schooner and is convoyed to Alexandria by a sloop of war— Chase of a pirate-From Alexandria to Cairo-Interview with Mehemet Ali-New Year at Alexandria-Journey to Jaffa disguised as Turks-Reception at Jerusalem―The Jews of the Holy Land-The return journey-Battle of Navarino-Admiral Sir William Codrington entrusts Mr. Montefiore with despatches— Home again-Mr. Montefiore and H. R. H, the Duke of Clarence.

Ir is May-day in the year 1827—a typical May-day. Not a speck is visible in the gleaming sky, and the trees of Hyde Park are clad in their full robes of green. A concert of carolling and chirping songsters comes from the leafy shadows, and the air is laden with perfume from the flower gardens of the neighbourhood. Eight o'clock has not yet struck, but notwithstanding the earliness of the hour one of the houses in Park Lane is already astir. A capacious travelling carriage with four horses stands at the door, and servants are busy packing away valises and trunks, and all the requisites for a protracted journey.

Mr. and Mrs. Montefiore are about to undertake

their long-contemplated visit to the Holy Land, the cradle of their race, the theatre of the most remarkable episodes in its stupendous history. Many a time in the brief holidays snatched from the absorbing occupations of their City life, the worthy and pious couple had laid out plans for a visit in the following year to the hallowed soil in which so much of their historic sympathy centred, but when the time came something always occurred to prevent it—either political complications rendered travelling in the Mediterranean unsafe, or Mr. Montefiore could not be spared from the Stock Exchange-and so they were obliged to content themselves with another peep at Paris, or a short stay at Rome, or a visit to the birthplace of the Montefiores in the city of the Medicis, or sometimes only with a ramble along the South coast, amid scenes consecrated by the recollections of their honeymoon. Now, however, the City had ceased to have an imperative claim on Mr. Montefiore's time, and the cherished project was to be realised.

At six o'clock Mr. Montefiore had gone, as was his wont, to attend early morning service in the synagogue, and thither, as soon as the travelling carriage was ready, his wife proceeded, first stopping for a moment in Piccadilly to wave her adieux to young Hannah Rothschild,* who had risen thus early to bid her beloved aunt and uncle God speed. The carriage clattered

* Afterwards wife of the Right Hon. Henry Fitzroy, and mother of the present Lady Coutts Lindsay of Balcarres.

CH. III.]

Posting through France.

31

into the City, took up Mr. Montefiore in Bevis Marks, and made its way towards the Dover Road. Breakfast was taken at Dartford and dinner at Canterbury, and at the end of twelve hours the travellers alighted at Dover.

Very interesting is Mrs. Montefiore's diary* of the journey which commenced so auspiciously on this bright May morning; particularly as showing how primitive still were the conditions of foreign travel fifty years ago. It is not surprising to learn that, when it took twelve hours to journey to Dover, three months were required to reach Malta, and that only after seven weeks more could Jerusalem be entered. Nor were the circumstances of this voyage less striking and romantic than one might expect from its primitive character, albeit its date is so comparatively recent.

Mr. and Mrs. Montefiore embarked from Dover under a salute of guns in honour of their fellowpassenger, the Prussian Ambassador, who was about to take leave of absence. The travelling carriage was put on board, and served as a cabin during the passage. Arrived at Calais, the Montefiores were joined by their relatives, Mr. and Mrs. David Salomons, and together they proceeded to post through France. Boulogne, Montreuil, Abbeville, Grandvilliers, Beaumont, and Charenton were reached in rapid succession, the outskirts of Paris were passed, a brisk run was enjoyed on the Melun road, the Autun mountain was scaled, and

on the 11th May Lyons was reached. Here the happy party was saddened by the receipt of letters announcing the death of a relative, and their depression was not relieved when, in the course of the evening, Mr. Montefiore discovered that they were stopping in the hotel in which his brother Abraham had breathed his last three years before. So far, however, the journey had been a happy one. Every now and then we read of Mrs. Montefiore enjoying "a stage outside the coach with dear M-," "a little variety," adds the diarist, with almost girlish archness, "which made it pleasing to all parties." Little dreaming of the old age that one of their party was destined to attain, the travellers took an especial delight in relieving the wants of the aged poor on their route. Chambery they assisted a poverty-stricken woman who was stated to be 114 years old; at Lans-le-bourg one of the applicants for their bounty was 93; and at a village on the dreary mountain side of Radicofani," which seems the asylum of poverty, Montefiore gave the curate a dollar for the oldest person in the place, who they said had only the heavens for his covering and the earth for his couch."

At

Having traversed the Mont Cenis without accident, and written a few grateful sentences in their prayer books for their "safe passage across the Alpine barrier," the travellers arrived at Florence in time to celebrate Shebuoth (the Feast of Weeks). The gentlemen went to the synagogue at seven in the morning, but the heat was so great that the ladies were obliged